In honor of our very first spam, I give you fluff.... Unbeta'd, no determined time (probably around Undergroundish)

We'll Always Have Ice Water by Ana Lyssie Cotton


Elizabeth barely looked up from the document she was typing at Sheppard's yelp. "What?"

"You sent me spam?" His voice was accusing.

"No I didn't." The tap-tap of her fingers continued. This treaty might actually garner them more food stuffs that could last them a year.

"Yes you did." Oh, he was SO 12.

"No I didn't." Okay. Maybe they were both 12.

"Yes. You. Did."

"Major." She stopped typing and looked at him. "Is this going to degenerate into insulting each other and putting ice down the back of my shirt?"

He blinked, "No?"

"Good." Elizabeth resumed typing. "Because I hate ice down the back of my shirt."

"But you did send me spam."

She stopped again. "John," she began, then stopped. "What kind of spam?"

"It's a get rich quick scheme. Kind of useless, here in the Pegasus Galaxy don't you think?"

She frowned. "Hrm. Maybe there's a virus loose in the intranet."

"You just don't want to admit it."

Twelve. He was... No, they were both twelve, because she was considering putting ice down the back of his shirt now. "Major, the last thing I sent to you was my report on the Kelar."

"Oh. That was spam, too."

"No it wasn't." Oh, this was going to degenerate fast.

"Yes it was." There was a smirk around the edges of his lips.

Maybe she should re-think her tactics. "I'm not going to argue with you, Major. I have a treaty to finish writing."

He pouted. "That's not important."

"If you want to be able to eat in a week, it is."

"Maybe we can start eating the scientists. I'm sure a few of them are a little tough, but with the right tenderizing..."

"If that were actually a serious suggestion, I'd have to consider you mentally incompetent and relieve you of duty."

"And then you could lock me in Steve's cell."

She groaned. Steve. She'd forgotten, just for a little bit, that he'd named their Wraith prisoner Steve. At least Steve--no. The Wraith. At least the Wraith was dead. "Major--"

"I know, I know, be quiet."

"Yes. Thank you."

"I still think you sent me spam."

Her glass of ice water was just too tempting. She took a sip, then stood and leaned over him. "No I didn't."

"Yes, you--" His words cut off in a yelp as the piece of ice in her mouth went down the front of his shirt. "Dr. Weir!"

She was already back in her seat, looking innocent. "Yes, Major?"

"You play dirty, Elizabeth."

"That's what they teach you in ambassador school."

"Hrm. I thought you were born devious."

"Probably." Removing her eyes from the captivating sight of Sheppard squirming around to get the ice cube out, she resolutely went back to typing.

"Hey, Lizzie?"

"Hrm?" Damnit, she'd told him not to call her that.

"You're it."

Cold water flowed down the back of her shirt. Oh. Hell. He was smirking. He was SO paying. This was war.