blue flamingos

See Me, Feel Me tag

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG1

Category/Rated: Slash, G

Year/Length: 2009/ ~878 words

Pairing: John/Cam

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

Series: Tag to See Me, Feel Me

Author's Notes: Inspired by spillingvelvet and Mitchell's Magical Macaroons (sadly lacking any actual macaroons)

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

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"You should go to bed," Cam says, almost before he's closed the door behind them.

"Only if you're coming with me." John tries to leer at Cam, but he's pretty sure it doesn't come across, between the stitches and his cracked cheek bone, his black eye and that one missing tooth.

As it turns out, being beaten up then blown up really isn't good for you.

"You're in a wheelchair," Cam says, disapproving, stepping behind it to push John further into Cam's apartment, even though John's perfectly capable, his arms being about the only part of him that are still completely functional. More or less. "And probably in too much pain to get it up."

"Wow, way to make a guy feel wanted," John grumbles. It's possible Cam might have a point, since John's literally counting down the minutes to his next dose of pain killers, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't like to try.

Every time he closes his eyes, he sees sixteen year old Cam grinning at him with a purple tiger over his shoulder. He hates remembering how close he came to giving up this Cam for that one.

"If I promise to get into bed with you, will you go?" Cam asks. He sounds tired and patient, and John feels guilty all over again for letting himself be talked into recuperating on Earth. He normally fights it harder, so he's mostly better before Cam sees him, but he wanted to see Cam more than he wanted to spare Cam seeing him, and he was too doped up on pain killers to fight it.

"Will you tell me a story?" he asks, close enough to saying yes. His back hurts from being in the wheelchair too long, and even the soft sweatpants he's wearing are starting to rub against the mostly healed burns up his left leg. Cam's bed is wide and cool, soft comforters and softer blankets.

Cam stops pushing, almost at the bedroom doorway, and touches the back of John's neck. "You could tell me one," he says, quietly. John wonders what Cam would say if John told him that he nearly died, that apparently his idea of Heaven is Cam and a fair, and that he gave it up so he could be with Cam, so Cam wouldn't be without him.

Actually, he doesn't really wonder at all, because he knows Cam. Cam would say something sweet and reassuring and not at all like John's going crazy, and then tell John that he loves him. It's almost enough to make John tell him what happened. He'd kind of like to hear that right now.

"I keep forgetting the endings," he says instead.

Cam's hand lingers, then draws away slowly. "You can always make it up," he says.

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Getting into bed hurts more than it should, and Cam's face, when he gives in and fetches John's pain killers, is drawn and worried.

"No macaroons?" John asks, trying for a laugh and getting a weak smile.

"No coconut," Cam says. "I'll go shopping later."

That's really not a good sign. Macaroons are Cam's idea of comfort food, and he's always got ingredients to make them at a moment's notice. If he's run out, he's having a bad few weeks, and now he's got John's damaged ass to take care of and worry about as well.

John reaches for Cam's wrist, pulls hard enough to force him to sit on the edge of the bed. It jolts under the sudden movement, shaking up all John's aches and pains all over again, but he schools his face clear and says, "I'm fine. You don't have to worry."

"You don't lie very well," Cam says. He touches the edge of John's black eye, his fingers cool and light. "I hate this."

John's not a big fan of it either, and he knows exactly what it's like to be in Cam's shoes. "You promised to come to bed," he says, because there's nothing he can say, no promise he can make that will make this better.

"Maybe I should go buy coconut instead," Cam offers, cracking a slightly stronger smile than before.

"Later," John says firmly. "I want my story."

Cam strips down to boxers and t-shirt, climbs under the covers, and lies next to John, not touching him at all. John rolls his eyes, and wriggles closer until Cam gets the hint and carefully pulls John into him, body heat enough to soothe some of John's pain. Or maybe that's the pain killers, making everything fuzzy at the edges.

John thinks about asking for a story again, but the quiet's kind of nice. He can hear Cam's heart beat and his breathing, and even when he closes his eyes, he knows it's the right Cam. Something tense inside him starts to relax at the thought, even more when Cam strokes a careful hand down the length of his spine.

"Love you," John says, before he can over-think himself out of it.

Cam kisses his forehead. "I know," he says softly. "Love you too."

And maybe coming here wasn't the kindest thing John could do to Cam, but lying in Cam's bed, hearing the words, makes John feel better than anything else has since he woke up.


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