Now... well, now, in Jack's opinion, Teal'c looked like an all-in wrestler on a 70s night, but Carter, Janet, and Cassie seemed to approve. Jack looked down at himself. Apparently his opinion didn't count - although they cruelly withheld the secret of what exactly was wrong with his lovely yellow sweater with the little flags, and his comfortably baggy chinos. Or perhaps it was the Birkenstocks they didn't like...

 

Mentally, Jack shrugged, and then forgot all about it the next second as Teal'c scored another strike. "Oh, for-!"

 

Teal'c turned. His expression said, 'I am kicking your ass, puny human.' "I believe that is another strike, O'Neill."

 

Grumbling, Jack marked it on the electronic score sheet (and that was still kind of fun, even after all these years. You wrote on a computer screen! It was way cool). "You know, bowling's so passé. We should've gone..." he tried to think of a sport at which Teal'c wouldn't kick his ass, "...to mine and watched hockey. I have popcorn." It was about the only edible thing in his cupboards at the moment, purely because it never went off. Like, ever. It was the miracle foodstuff – good for any time of the day.

 

Teal'c's expression now said, 'You're so lame.' "We have done that," he informed Jack, tartly. "Many, many times in the past."

 

"Because it's fun!" Teal'c's 'You're so lame' expression went into Allcaps. "Ah, you know you enjoy it. Don't you?" Jack tried to look hurt, and it worked (he so had the Puppydog Eyes of Doom), at least a little bit. Tea'c's expression now said 'You are small and pitiful. I will endeavour not to hurt your feelings.'

 

"I believe that it is your turn, O'Neill," said Teal'c, changing the subject.

 

Jack hopped up, and grabbed his bowling ball. He had game. He had game. He had game. Or anyhow, he had the hope that if he recited it often enough, it'd come true. Honestly, his inner barber had better game than Jack – and it was just sad when a character from his imagination could kick his ass.

 

He put his toe carefully on the correct side of the line (the incident when Sam had 'accidentally' slipped over had nearly put an end to team bowling nights), and hefted the ball to his chin, mentally measuring the distance and how hard he'd have to hurl the damn thing. He tipped his head to either side, trying to gage the slope of the lane.

 

Behind him came the sound of a Jaffa pointedly clearing his throat. But Jack was made of sterner stuff. He didn't panic before such intimidation tactics.

 

He took a step back, keeping his left foot fixed to the line, and swayed either way, bouncing gently, loosening up his knees. It'd be humiliating for them to give out just at the crucial point – and he wasn't fooling himself about how crappy they were.

 

He glanced behind him to check that Teal'c was watching. Teal'c wore his 'You are wasting my time, tiresome human,' look. Oh yeah, Jack had him on the ropes.

 

Jack backed up slowly, fixing his eyes on the target. One strike, and he'd be... well, not losing quite so drastically. He stopped when he was as far back as he could get, feeling Teal'c radiating impatience behind him. Then, in a sudden flurry, he was off. He took two long strides, and hurled the ball, feeling it leave his fingers as he came to a perfect stop, freezing as he watched it rumble away down the lane. There was a breathless hush. And then a clattering of pins.

 

"Steee-RIKE!" yelled Jack, jumping up triumphantly and punching the air. Yes! He was SO the man! He bounded back to the seats and grabbed the pen, putting a great big X on his scorecard. "We should go bowling more often, you know! I don't know why you always want to sit around watching TV."

 

Teal'c gave him a speaking look.

 

---

 

END.