Baseball was an infuriating sport, he decided. The Rockies sucked. The Cubs sucked. The White Sox sucked. Even the Twins sucked. Every sports team from anywhere he had ever even thought about living was losing, there was absolutely nothing else on TV, and his girlfriend was timing the toaster with a stopwatch.

His toaster, once only a mild daily annoyance in Sam Carter's life, appeared to have become, in the last five hours, her personal nemesis. She hadn't even come up for food because she'd spent the evening nibbling toast from her failed attempts at supercharging the appliance. His wonderful plans for an evening of fun and nakedness had completely gone to seed.

"Dammit!" she cursed in the dining room, drowning out the sounds of the Rockies getting their butts soundly kicked.

"Still no luck?" Even the announcers were beginning to sound depressed, so he flicked off the TV and went to investigate. Maybe she would run out of bread to test with. He could always hope.

She looked astonished as much as frustrated. "It's actually taking 36 seconds longer now!"

He had to admit he was pretty surprised as well. He never would have expected Sam "Never Met A Piece Of Alien Technology I Couldn't Make My Bitch" Carter to be defeated by a household appliance, and one from her own planet, no less. He figured she would have the thing capable of space flight by now. Oh, well. "Are you done, then?"

"I have to at least get it back the way it was." She yanked out the plug and pried the plastic casing back off with a determined huff. She jerked her hand back with a yelp when she touched a part that was still hot, and spoke through fingers in her mouth. "It shouldn't take that long."

"Oh, no. Nononono." He pulled her singed hand out of her mouth and examined it. It looked all right, but still. She was wounding herself now. And it was late. And he was bored. What the heck had he done with his time before Carter? "You've had your fun with the toaster. We're calling it a night."

"I can fix it!"

"Carter."

She looked up, appearing thoroughly confused as to why he was annoyed with her.

"It toasts, right?"

She blinked. "Yes, but-"

He raised a hand. "Ah! Good enough."

"But-"

He pointed toward the stairs leading to the basement. "I'll shut off the electricity," he threatened.

She glared at him, glared at the toaster, and relented. "Okay." Half a smirk. "I guess I got a little carried away." At least she realized when she was being ridiculous.

"Good." He handed her the casing, and she stuck it back in place. He snatched the toaster away and returned it to the kitchen before she changed her mind about stopping.

"I still could've fixed it," she muttered from behind him.

He turned to look at her and narrowed his eyes. "If I catch you sneaking out here in the middle of the night to take it apart again-"

"I won't!" Her eyes were wide and far too innocent for her to not have been already planning that.

Staring. Staring.

Her gaze broke away and slid past him to the offending appliance.

"It's a toaster, Carter."

"I know."

"You could just start eating cereal, or something."

Her shoulders sagged as she accepted her temporary defeat. "What do you want to do now?" She checked her watch. "How did it get to be eleven?"

He deliberated internally for a moment, but no, the mood for tearing her clothes off, knees be damned, right there on the floor, had well and truly been spoiled. "I'm going to bed." Tomorrow. Tomorrow would suck less.

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