Tea Party
Title: Tea Party
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: John/Elizabeth
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate: Atlantis, the characters, or any part of the Stargate Franchise--that honor goes to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (herein after "MGM"), Syfy, Gekko Media, Acme Shark and all other ancillary production companies. This is their world, I just play in it.
Summary & Inspiration: John is roped into a tea party with his girls. Except it's not quite the tea party he is expecting. Fluff to the fluffity fluffiest.
Author's Notes: Written because I felt like Fluff to the Max. This is also stretching my wings a little, as I don't write much 'beyond canon' stuff or Sparky family and this is definitely beyond-canon-with-Sparky-family.
The classical music floating out of her room should have clued him in.
But of course, he’d not thought about it, which had resulted in the dilemma he was now facing-join the fun, or disappear and play the part of an inattentive, unfeeling father.
Elizabeth watched him with a coy smile from her position at the table. A large, floppy hat sat perched on her head, slightly askew.
“Come on, Dad!” Emma piped, pointing at the seat to her left.
“Yes, come on, Dad,” Elizabeth echoed, plopping her chin in her hand, her grin growing. “Join the fun.”
He smiled uncomfortably. “Uh, tea parties aren’t really my thing.”
Emma’s face crumpled into a pout, her crown-thing slipping forward onto her forehead. She shoved that and the mass of black curls that fell with it up with her hand. “Says who?”
“Says the Air Force.”
“Really? I didn’t think they had rules on tea party attendance,” Elizabeth murmured, still smiling. He shot her a displeased looked, which she returned with a raised eyebrow.
If I have to do this, so do you.
“Five minutes,” he said, scooting the chair out. He felt incredibly awkward, but Emma’s happy smile was enough to make him forget, for a moment, the absurdity of the Commander of the Atlantis military force and Atlantis’s Head of Diplomatic relations squeezed into the tiny frame of a four-year-old’s tea table.
He drew the line at pink feather boas, however, and he said as much when Emma reached into her dress-up chest and pulled it out. She pouted, but even she knew when asking too much was asking too much.
“Okay, then,” she slid back from the table, her little Athosian gown drifting around her like a cloud. “You can wear this.”
She came back with a strange looking mask, white-faced with long white hair. He picked up, holding it awkwardly. “What’s this?”
“Torren and I use it for wraith-not wraith.”
Elizabeth’s smile disappeared. “You play wraith-not wraith?”
So did John’s. “You play with Torren?”
“When Teyla brings him,” she said innocently, reaching for her teapot. “Or Kanaan.”
“Emma…”
“So,” she continued, ignoring Elizabeth’s semi-chastising tone and looking up at them with a smile. “Mommy’s a Lantean and I’m an Athosian warrior leader, and we’re having tea.”
“Okay,” he glanced over at her, still holding up the mask. “And what am I?”
“You,” she looked at him, her eyes narrowing, “are the Wraith who is going to try to attack us. Until I kill you with my laser gun.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened, turning to him in shock.
John choked, clearing his throat. “What?”
“We’ll call you Tony.”
“Okay, that's enough!” Elizabeth suddenly chirped. “Bedtime!”
“What? Why? It’s early!”
“It’s not that early. And after we brush your teeth, we’ll have a little talk on why we don’t go around killing-or even pretend-killing-Wraith.”
“Especially at tea parties,” John echoed, scooping her up in his arms. “Bad form.”
“Not helping,” Elizabeth said, removing her hat.
He smiled. “Well, ladies, this was fun while it lasted.”
Emma held on to him for a minute. “Will you come to the next one?”
“Maybe…what kind of tea are we having?”
“Athosian red-leaf brew. It’s the tea ceremony…” she lowered her head, staring him in the eyes, “for the dead.”
He glanced over at Elizabeth slowly, who closed her eyes and raised a hand to her forehead.
“All right, that does it. No more tea parties with Teyla and Ronon for you.”
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: John/Elizabeth
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate: Atlantis, the characters, or any part of the Stargate Franchise--that honor goes to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (herein after "MGM"), Syfy, Gekko Media, Acme Shark and all other ancillary production companies. This is their world, I just play in it.
Summary & Inspiration: John is roped into a tea party with his girls. Except it's not quite the tea party he is expecting. Fluff to the fluffity fluffiest.
Author's Notes: Written because I felt like Fluff to the Max. This is also stretching my wings a little, as I don't write much 'beyond canon' stuff or Sparky family and this is definitely beyond-canon-with-Sparky-family.
The classical music floating out of her room should have clued him in.
But of course, he’d not thought about it, which had resulted in the dilemma he was now facing-join the fun, or disappear and play the part of an inattentive, unfeeling father.
Elizabeth watched him with a coy smile from her position at the table. A large, floppy hat sat perched on her head, slightly askew.
“Come on, Dad!” Emma piped, pointing at the seat to her left.
“Yes, come on, Dad,” Elizabeth echoed, plopping her chin in her hand, her grin growing. “Join the fun.”
He smiled uncomfortably. “Uh, tea parties aren’t really my thing.”
Emma’s face crumpled into a pout, her crown-thing slipping forward onto her forehead. She shoved that and the mass of black curls that fell with it up with her hand. “Says who?”
“Says the Air Force.”
“Really? I didn’t think they had rules on tea party attendance,” Elizabeth murmured, still smiling. He shot her a displeased looked, which she returned with a raised eyebrow.
If I have to do this, so do you.
“Five minutes,” he said, scooting the chair out. He felt incredibly awkward, but Emma’s happy smile was enough to make him forget, for a moment, the absurdity of the Commander of the Atlantis military force and Atlantis’s Head of Diplomatic relations squeezed into the tiny frame of a four-year-old’s tea table.
He drew the line at pink feather boas, however, and he said as much when Emma reached into her dress-up chest and pulled it out. She pouted, but even she knew when asking too much was asking too much.
“Okay, then,” she slid back from the table, her little Athosian gown drifting around her like a cloud. “You can wear this.”
She came back with a strange looking mask, white-faced with long white hair. He picked up, holding it awkwardly. “What’s this?”
“Torren and I use it for wraith-not wraith.”
Elizabeth’s smile disappeared. “You play wraith-not wraith?”
So did John’s. “You play with Torren?”
“When Teyla brings him,” she said innocently, reaching for her teapot. “Or Kanaan.”
“Emma…”
“So,” she continued, ignoring Elizabeth’s semi-chastising tone and looking up at them with a smile. “Mommy’s a Lantean and I’m an Athosian warrior leader, and we’re having tea.”
“Okay,” he glanced over at her, still holding up the mask. “And what am I?”
“You,” she looked at him, her eyes narrowing, “are the Wraith who is going to try to attack us. Until I kill you with my laser gun.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened, turning to him in shock.
John choked, clearing his throat. “What?”
“We’ll call you Tony.”
“Okay, that's enough!” Elizabeth suddenly chirped. “Bedtime!”
“What? Why? It’s early!”
“It’s not that early. And after we brush your teeth, we’ll have a little talk on why we don’t go around killing-or even pretend-killing-Wraith.”
“Especially at tea parties,” John echoed, scooping her up in his arms. “Bad form.”
“Not helping,” Elizabeth said, removing her hat.
He smiled. “Well, ladies, this was fun while it lasted.”
Emma held on to him for a minute. “Will you come to the next one?”
“Maybe…what kind of tea are we having?”
“Athosian red-leaf brew. It’s the tea ceremony…” she lowered her head, staring him in the eyes, “for the dead.”
He glanced over at Elizabeth slowly, who closed her eyes and raised a hand to her forehead.
“All right, that does it. No more tea parties with Teyla and Ronon for you.”