a/n: There is a pattern emerging: I tell Polly Lynn "Oh, wouldn't it be funny if this thing happened in a fic?" and then somehow she mentally tricks me into writing that thing. I suspect she has a me-shaped voodoo doll chained to a laptop.

South Glen Academy, est. 1857
South Glen, VA

"Hey, Ronon." John slid into a chair beside the athletic director. "Any word on the new dean?"

"Nothing. Caldwell's playing it close to the vest, but I'm assuming he's announcing today." Ronon slouched back in the stiff, uncomfortable lecture hall chair. "Hope they found someone good."

"God knows he interviewed enough candidates." John loosened his tie and unbuttoned his top button. "If we're lucky, this'll be the world's shortest meeting. 'Hi. Here's the dean. Have a nice day.'"

"Fingers crossed, man."

Colonel Caldwell strode past them, down to the podium at the front of the lecture hall. The academy president was a tall, clean-cut man, brisk and slightly grumpy and eternally starched and pressed.

Ronon elbowed John in the side. "Look. He's almost smiling. Must be good news."

"Maybe they figured out how to surgically remove the rod from his ass," John mumbled.

Ronon snorted loudly, drawing confused looks from the other faculty around them. John sighed, craning his neck to see an unfamiliar head up ahead of them, in the front row. "Wait. Who's that?"

Ronon shrugged. "New dean, maybe? I didn't see her come in."

For now, all he could ascertain was female and brunette, so John settled back in his chair. May as well get comfortable.

"All right." Caldwell glanced at his watch. "It's 1600 hours, so let's -"

The heavy wooden door at the back of the hall flew open with a bang.

"Sorry! Sorry, everyone."

Daniel Jackson - brilliant history teacher, avid scholar, and walking mess - shuffled in, arms full of books and folders, and collapsed in the closest unoccupied chair. Caldwell let out a frustrated noise, but otherwise ignored it. John hid a grin. Daniel lived in a world of his own. Long, long ago. Possibly even a galaxy far, far away.

"As I was saying." Caldwell cleared his throat. "Now that we're all here, I'd like to introduce our newest staff member. This is our new academic dean, Dr. Elizabeth Weir. Dr. Weir comes to us from St. George College out in Colorado, and we're very lucky to have her. Welcome to South Glen Academy, Doctor."

John grudgingly joined the polite smattering of applause as Dr. Weir stepped to the podium, finally giving him more of a view than the back of her head. She wore a simple grey skirt and soft, silky red blouse, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

She was gorgeous in an understated way, the kind of woman who carried her authority easily. Curly dark hair, long legs. Bright eyes, a wide smile.

"Thank you, Colonel," she replied graciously. "It's an honor to be here, at this prestigious academy. I look forward to working with all of you."

John was half-expecting a standard administrative monologue, but she surprised him - she smiled, shook Caldwell's hand, and returned to her seat.

He joined the applause, leaning over to whisper to Ronon, "Shortest damn speech I've ever heard."

Ronon nodded. "She's my new favorite person."

"No kidding."

Dr. Elizabeth Weir was an efficient woman; it was less than twenty-four hours later that John got called into her office for a budget meeting.

Like the rest of the administrative offices, hers was a beautiful, spacious room in one of the oldest buildings on campus: tall windows, hardwood floors, dark wood paneling. The door was open, and he looked in to find her organizing the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves across from her desk. She was stretched up on her toes, balancing somewhat precariously as she maneuvered a heavy volume into place.

He tapped on the doorframe. "Dr. Weir?"

"Mr. Sheppard. Please, come in."

She brushed her hands on her skirt, stepping forward to offer a firm handshake. "Thank you for coming. Have a seat."

John settled in the chair across from her desk as she pulled out the math department budget sheets, paging through the brief report.

"Your budget is impeccable." She waved a hand at the chart. "I suppose that's not surprising, coming from the math department."

"I'm pretty good at adding."

He should probably tone down the smartass attitude - she was his boss, and even if that weren't an issue, she was hot - but to her credit she actually grinned, a real smile that brightened her face. "That's good to hear."

"Thank you."

John decided then and there that he was fairly certain he liked her. She didn't mind his stupid sense of humor and she appreciated a well-written budget.

After a moment, she set her pen aside and leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "So is there anything your department needs? Any long-term wish list?"

"Really?"

Her smile widened. "Really."

Unexpected.

"Uh. Well. If you're asking -" he shifted in his chair - "it'd be great if we could get smartboards."

"Smartboards?"

"Interactive whiteboards. They have touch sensors, so you can interface them with a computer and run software. They've got great application potential, particularly in upper-level classes. You can do a lot with graphing functions, which would be helpful in calculus."

"Mmhmm." She scribbled something down at the bottom of his budget paperwork. "Is there a particular model you're looking for?"

He shrugged. "There are a few types that'd work. I can - put together a cost comparison, if that'd help?"

"That would be great." She nodded, jotting down a few more things. "I can't promise anything, but I'll keep this in mind while we compile the budget."

"Right." He paused. "Thank you."

"I like the new dean," Rodney announced, flopping into the seat across from John and digging into his lunch.

John blinked. "Hello to you too, Rodney."

"Hi. She's great. Very smart. And she seems to appreciate the finer points of physics, you know? It really is the queen of the sciences."

"After math, of course," John assured him. "Physics is just a less perfect version of math."

Rodney sputtered. "What are you - that is absurd. Physics is the pinnacle of scientific inquiry."

"Physics is what math does on its off days."

"That is a lie." Rodney glared at him. "You're just trying to irk me, aren't you?"

"It seems to be working."