[fic] Four Things from Earth that John Sheppard Misses
TITLE: Four things from Earth that John Sheppard misses
RATING: G
SUMMARY: (Stargate: Atlantis) . . . four things. From Earth. That John Sheppard misses. You know.
14 Valentines: Peace Movement
1. Driving. Hot sticky-sweaty summer driving with all the windows down, the radio blasting classic rock into the thick air. The wind in his hair the only air conditioning he needs. Maybe a bottle of Coke beside him, ice-cold and dripping from the gas station cooler. Shades on, speeding in the sun, pounding the steering wheel and yelling at the top of his lungs because that's the only way he's ever gonna hit the top notes on Livin' on a Prayer.
He misses it, yeah, but there is this one time that about three hours into a mind-numbing jumper trip, they got bored enough to teach Teyla some Earth songs, and she'd listened very carefully to him saying You gotta hold on to what you got and said, "My people have a similar proverb," and Ford had almost fallen over laughing.
2. Pizza delivery. Grease, spicy tomato sauce--pepperoni, cheese, mushrooms, onions--he'd take anything at this point if it was delivered to his door in a cardboard box with hot peppers in the corner. And not topped with anything that he personally had to endure long diplomatic talks to trade for, either. You give them a twenty, they give you the pie. Simple, and he'd kill for a slice.
They keep trying in the mess hall, God love 'em, so sometimes there's a nice hot round flatbread covered with cheese. And it's nothing like the real thing, but they try, and he's even willing to overlook that the cheese is pink.
3. Bob Edwards. Just once, John would like to get his news the morning it happened, and delivered by someone whose job it is to remain calm while talking about things going to hell. Now he gets his news from Rodney or Elizabeth or whoever's gate tech that day, and when they give him urgent news they're not calm about it. Rodney is Rodney and freaks out like fireworks; Elizabeth gets very tense like if she can hold herself together maybe the world won't fall apart, either.
But then he learned that Edwards left NPR for some satellite station, so never mind.
4. Football. He misses watching games live, screaming yelling drinking beer in cool autumn air; he misses doing the same thing on his own couch. They get the games in the weekly databurst, true, but they get the scores too in the news, so it's only sort of half as fun.
Except for the Superbowl, when the SGC reschedules that week's databurst so they can send the game the minute it's over, heavily encrypted, no final scores anywhere, and they set up a huge screen and all crowd into the room they've turned into a movie theater and eat pink mini-pizzas and this dip that John really loves but does not want to ask about. Everybody's yelling at the screen and making wild bets and a couple of people fall asleep in the back because Superbowl Sunday equals 0300 AST on a Wednesday, and John forgets that football is supposed to be watched any other way.
RATING: G
SUMMARY: (Stargate: Atlantis) . . . four things. From Earth. That John Sheppard misses. You know.
14 Valentines: Peace Movement
1. Driving. Hot sticky-sweaty summer driving with all the windows down, the radio blasting classic rock into the thick air. The wind in his hair the only air conditioning he needs. Maybe a bottle of Coke beside him, ice-cold and dripping from the gas station cooler. Shades on, speeding in the sun, pounding the steering wheel and yelling at the top of his lungs because that's the only way he's ever gonna hit the top notes on Livin' on a Prayer.
He misses it, yeah, but there is this one time that about three hours into a mind-numbing jumper trip, they got bored enough to teach Teyla some Earth songs, and she'd listened very carefully to him saying You gotta hold on to what you got and said, "My people have a similar proverb," and Ford had almost fallen over laughing.
2. Pizza delivery. Grease, spicy tomato sauce--pepperoni, cheese, mushrooms, onions--he'd take anything at this point if it was delivered to his door in a cardboard box with hot peppers in the corner. And not topped with anything that he personally had to endure long diplomatic talks to trade for, either. You give them a twenty, they give you the pie. Simple, and he'd kill for a slice.
They keep trying in the mess hall, God love 'em, so sometimes there's a nice hot round flatbread covered with cheese. And it's nothing like the real thing, but they try, and he's even willing to overlook that the cheese is pink.
3. Bob Edwards. Just once, John would like to get his news the morning it happened, and delivered by someone whose job it is to remain calm while talking about things going to hell. Now he gets his news from Rodney or Elizabeth or whoever's gate tech that day, and when they give him urgent news they're not calm about it. Rodney is Rodney and freaks out like fireworks; Elizabeth gets very tense like if she can hold herself together maybe the world won't fall apart, either.
But then he learned that Edwards left NPR for some satellite station, so never mind.
4. Football. He misses watching games live, screaming yelling drinking beer in cool autumn air; he misses doing the same thing on his own couch. They get the games in the weekly databurst, true, but they get the scores too in the news, so it's only sort of half as fun.
Except for the Superbowl, when the SGC reschedules that week's databurst so they can send the game the minute it's over, heavily encrypted, no final scores anywhere, and they set up a huge screen and all crowd into the room they've turned into a movie theater and eat pink mini-pizzas and this dip that John really loves but does not want to ask about. Everybody's yelling at the screen and making wild bets and a couple of people fall asleep in the back because Superbowl Sunday equals 0300 AST on a Wednesday, and John forgets that football is supposed to be watched any other way.