blue flamingos

First Kiss: Cam/Jack

Fandom: Stargate SG1

Category/Rated: Slash, PG

Year/Length: 2009/~645 words

Pairing: Cam/Jack

Disclaimer: No, I don't own them, for which I should think they're profoundly grateful.

Feedback: Yes please. Even if it's bad. Especially if it's bad.


Cam sighs, too tired to pretend he's not.

"When this is over, I'm instituting a rule," he says, leaning back until he can look at his apartment ceiling rather than Jack O'Neill next to him on the couch. He always thought life with SG1 was the limit of his capacity to bother about weirdness, but Jack O'Neill in his apartment, drinking his beer, is turning that theory into a lie.

"A rule?" Jack asks, sounding something close to amused.

Cam nods, even though he's not sure Jack's looking at him. "No more than one member of SG1 can go missing at any given moment."

"How's that going to work on missions?" Jack asks, definitely amused this time.

"No more than one member of SG1 can go missing at any given moment, unless accompanied by one or more members of said SG1," Cam amends. He feels drunk, like this is a drunk conversation, but half a beer is not enough to get him even close to drunk, not matter how tired, how drained, he feels. He's running out of things to say to Sam, trapped in the wrong dimension; most of the time, he sits there quietly, trying not to think about how she's probably cursing his inability to hear her brilliant suggestions for finding Jackson.

He can tell her about his weird evening with her old CO instead, about how Jack showed up at the SGC and invited himself home with Cam. How Cam doesn't know why Jack did, or why he said yes to it, and how Cam wishes he'd gotten around to buying a spare bed, because he doesn't know which would be weirder, offering his own to Jack or asking Jack to sleep on the couch.

"That's a good rule," Jack says. "Not sure I like your chances with Daniel around, though."

"Or Teal'c, or Vala." Cam sighs again. He loves his team, but, God, some days he'd really like to put the lot of them on a leash. Subcutaneous transmitters aren't much good when he doesn't even know which planet someone's scampered off to.

"I feel your pain," Jack says, mocking. "Talk to me when you've got admirals on your back for your paperwork every hour on the hour and you know your team's missing."

Cam's brain stumbles on 'your team,' the possessiveness in the words. Not like he doesn't feel the flipside of it sometimes, the way Sam and Jackson and Teal'c are waiting for a voice that isn't his, even after two years, but knowing that Jack feels the same is something he could have lived without.

"So how's Vala working out for you?" Jack asks, quick push to get them through the awkwardness, and the conversation keeps going.


Jack stands up a little after midnight, announces his intention to go back to the mountain, even when Cam offers him a bed for the night. Cam calls him a cab instead, walks him to the door. He's still not sure what Jack wanted out of the evening, or what he was trying to give Cam. Maybe Cam's just reading into it too much.

Jack steps out into the corridor, stops, turns back. He's standing very close, and Cam holds onto the door frame, feeling off-balance. Jack just looks at him for a long moment, then nods.

Cam's not expecting the hand cupping his cheek. He's really not expecting Jack to use that hand to draw him close, kiss him, not wild, but not chaste either, mouths opening together, tasting beer.

Cam sways a little when Jack lets go, and blinks. Jack's still looking at him, still and calm. Then he nods again, says, "You're doing okay, Mitchell," and walks away.

Cam goes back inside, locks the door, collects up the empty bottles.

The worst part is, that's not even the weirdest thing that's happened to him that week.

Read Comments | Post Comments |

| Home | Email bluflamingo |

Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional