Category: gen, some shippy hints
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Disclaimer: It's their universe, not mine.
"Eight? How...? It's nine."
Elizabeth heard the voices of John Sheppard and Rodney McKay echo from the briefing room. She couldn't resist but taking a look at what was going on.
"Major, I don't know who you would spell it with eight letters. E-I. God, the American education system as bad as its reputation. Don't you have to pass some sort of test when you enlist?" Elizabeth heard McKay's usual cranky voice.
"You sure, McKay? Last I knew you didn't have a degree in English." This time, Sheppard, sounding pissy.
Elizabeth rounded the corner and looked in the door.
The two members of her senior staff were sitting at the big table, which was covered in papers, some of them trashed. A laptop stood at the edge.
"What's going on, Gentlemen?" She asked.
"We're trying to write our mission report, the one for to...“ John started.
"P5X-612." McKay finished.
"And you are practising your new stand-up routine while you are at it?"
"Ahm, no. We thought we'd work together to provide a more complete report," John explained quickly
"Yes, a more complete report," Rodney agreed maybe a bit too enthusiastically.
"All right. For once, I'm allowing it. I already received Teyla's and Ronon's reports and they were both puzzling to say the least. I’m not sure they have been to the same planet. I'm looking forward to your report." She turned to leave. "And just a suggestion; there is spell-check on your computer."
Once he was sure that Elizabeth was out of earshot, John leaned back. "Maybe we should leave out 'conceited' part entirely. Maybe 'the natives believed they were superior to us'. That even makes the report longer." John grinned.
"You’re counting the words in your reports?" Rodney was incredulous. "I sometimes need an index."
"What for? The only things of value on... whatever were the cute, short dresses. We should have bought one for Teyla. Or even for Weir. Not that I think she'd ever wear it," John mused.
"You are still stoned on that wonder weed the chief passed around after dinner."
"That's why I need you to fill in the time that I missed. And you were gone for three hours with that space bimbo while she showed you her 'artefacts'." John grinned slyly. "Now get the laptop and write."
Half an hour, and many suggestions from John later, the masterpiece was done.
"See, not a single mistake. That proves that I'm the one who can spell," Rodney gloated.
John reached over to the laptop and changed something on the menu. Suddenly, Rodney's flawless text littered with red wiggle lines.
A frown settled on his face as he stared at the screen.
"Don't tell me you have never run spell check? With all the papers that you have published?"
"I haven't." Rodney didn't look up.
"Ran spell check or published?" John asked sharply.
"I have been the governments golden boy since I was twenty-two. Classified research isn't exactly a lot to write home about," Rodney huffed.
"And there I thought only my career sucked," John commented dryly.
"Now that's an understatement if there ever was one. I was never stationed in Antarctica."
"Siberia comes to mind. What exactly did you do to Colonel Carter?"
Rodney blushed and changed the topic.
"Look on the bright side, space bimbos, moonshine, Power Bars, space ships and two new planets every week. You even have the first office of your life."
"I have an office?" John raised an eyebrow.
"Where have you been keeping your laptop?"
"Under the armchair in the corner," John admitted.
"Should I ask Ronon to give you a few pointers or maybe Teyla? She might not master eighth grade maths, but I know for a fact that she keeps her laptop on her desk."
"How do you know that?" Not even John had seen the inside of Teyla quarters. Not that he wasn't dying to do so.
"Simple, I helped her out with a computer problem," Rodney said and grinned with satisfaction. "And I think I can help you out with yours."
"I didn't know I had one." John said, the mission report already forgotten.