Cassie's little league baseball team is the Colorado Springs Mischief, which Jack thinks is fantastic because it's a great excuse to wear a t-shirt that says "mischief." The team is about as good as a group of 12ish year-olds can be expected to be, but Cassie is surprisingly good for a child who has only been on Earth for about a year. She's especially good at bat and is a fast runner, which makes her a team favorite because she's responsible for a lot of the runs scored. Jack had really hoped she would pick up hockey, but so far she's only marginally interested in her skating lessons and is skittish on the ice.

So here he is, sitting in a creaky camping chair along the third base line of a community baseball diamond, Sam to his right and Teal'c to his left, Doc Frasier pacing in front of them ready to yell at the umpires. Daniel is at a conference. It's hot and there are bugs, but at least he has a cup holder for his smuggled beer that is barely disguised in a koozie.

He reaches for another beer in their cooler and his fingers graze against Sam's as she does the same. "Ladies first, Carter," he says, abandoning his grip on the beer but not her hand at first. He smiles and pulls up another, shoving it into the neon koozie with ease. "She looks good out there today, yeah?"

"She does, Sir," Sam agrees, shifting her glance toward Cassie, who is crouched low on second base, clearly thinking about going for a steal of third. "Looks like she's gonna go for third."

"Yes, it does. The pitcher is watching, though."

"In this game does not the pitcher determine the success of the opposing team, Samantha Carter?"

"I mean, yeah, but also the skill of the batter and a lot of other things like the angle of the-"

"Yes, Teal'c," Jack says. "The pitcher is important and their choices and skill will determine a lot about the game."

The pitcher in question is a boy several inches shorter than Cassie, but with an arm that's no joke, so the showdown could go either way. He eyes Cassie twitching on second base and then stares down the batter and then looks back at Cassie, not sure what move to make. Eventually, he decides to throw toward the batter and Cassie jumps at the chance to steal third. She does.

Doc Frasier bounces off the earth to a height that seems impossible for someone her size. Jack, Sam, and Teal'c all cheer and yell congratulations toward their young charge who is now only 20 or so feet from them. The pitcher kicks the dirt of the mound and grunts in frustration. He regains his composure and begins his windup again, but is interrupted by the familiar voice of Cassie.

"Hit it hard; hit it fast; knock that pitcher on the grass!" Cassie yells toward her teammate at bat.

Jack smiles. Good, she's learned trash talking, and it wasn't even his fault. Cassie's chant continues and is picked up by her team's dugout and, hilariously, Doc Frasier.

The pitcher throws and it's high, a Ball. He gets the ball back and it happens again, then again.

"Someone get a bucket 'cause he's throwing up!" Cassie shouts toward her dugout, and her team laughs and repeats it. Jack tries not to spit beer out of his mouth as he watches this 12 year old roast her peer, but it's difficult because that was a solid burn.

The kid on the mound is pissed, and it shows as he tosses another ball and walks Cassie's teammate. Jack is now tense because the bases are loaded and it's a tie game, and if this next kid can get an RBI, Mischief wins. He only barely remembers this is a fucking little league game.

"Jesus, Carter, I'm invested."

"Me too, Sir."

"Who taught Cassie to talk smack like that?" Janet asks, looking toward Jack with an accusation in her eyes.

"Hey, it wasn't me, Doc!"

They both look at Sam, who has the grace to share a guilty smile. "It was me. I, uh, taught her some of the things we said when I was a kid."

Jack is delighted. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam says, an attractive blush creeping up from her collar bones into her cheeks.

"Well this is just a delight to hear, Carter. I'd love to know-"

Teal'c interrupts the conversation when he stands and shouts, "This pitcher is inadequate and will fail in his endeavor to throw strikes!"

Jack's eyes flick from Sam's to Janet's and then up to Teal'c and over to the rest of the adults attending the little league baseball game. Then to the child on the pitcher's mound, who is admirably still standing up after hearing that come from basically a giant stranger. Cassie is grinning.

Later, when the Colorado Springs Mischief is victorious by one run and the umpire invites them to never attend future games lest they traumatize another child, Cassie is laughing and all smiles around her Capri Sun and goldfish crackers. "Uncle Murray, I can't believe you yelled that!"

"I am sorry, Cassandra; I did not mean to inhibit your future participation in this game." Teal'c looks toward Jack and does the closest thing a Jaffa does to shrugging. "Jaffa children are not coddled."

"I don't mind," Cassie laughs. "I'm kinda tired of it, anyway." Janet sighs like only a mother who has already paid for all the fees and equipment can.

"Oh, yeah?" Jack asks.

"Yeah," she says, looking up at him with eyes so adoring it can't be missed. "I was thinking it's time for me to learn more about hockey."

"Oh… yeah?" Jack asks again, but this time his voice is softer and filled with a tenderness even he didn't expect.

Cassie nods and reaches to tug on his shirt. "Do you think you can help me pick out some gear, Uncle Jack?"

His lips turn up into a half smile, the rare one that reaches his eyes. He drops a hand to clasp hers and his eyes mirror her adoration. "Yeah, Cass," he says. "Actually, I think I have a stick just your size. It used to belong to someone else very important, but he would want you to have it. Sound good, kiddo?"

"It sounds awesome."

"Sweet," he says. Not feeling comfortable with this kind of raw exposure for too long, he jumps to the easiest distraction he can imagine and for some reason grabs Sam by the shoulder as he belts out, "Hey ice cream, anyone?"