blue flamingos

Place On Earth

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG1

Category/Rated: Slash, NC-17

Year/Length: 2010/ ~3646 words

Pairing: Cam/Daniel/John

Spoilers: Post-Outcast

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

Summary: "I'm not planning to get him drunk and take him back to our harem," Cam says. "Dinner, couple of beers, no strings comfort sex, if he wants to. Unless you really don't want to."

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


"Heads up," Cam says quietly, stepping up close to Jackson as they walk into the half-empty mess. "Sheppard's back."

"Hmm?" Jackson asks distractedly, not looking up from the journal he's been reading the whole way down.

Cam rolls his eyes, doesn't even know why he's bothering. "Colonel Sheppard. Back. Here."

That actually gets Jackson to look up, though in the wrong direction. Cam shakes his head and points subtly to where John's sitting alone in a corner with a cup of coffee and a daunting looking paperback. "Oh," Jackson says. "From Atlantis?"

Cam sighs in despair. "Just how interesting is that journal? Crazy scientist, replicators on the loose, NID and IOA called in to hunt it down? Any of this ringing a bell?"

"I've been off-world," Jackson says, pouring himself a cup of coffee, then another for Cam when he nods instead of pointing out that he knows this, since the entire team was off-world together. "Sheppard came back for that?"

"No," Cam says, lowering his voice a little more. "His father died, he just got caught up in the rest."

"Oh," Jackson says, frowning over at John.

Cam takes his coffee. "Let's go see if he wants some company."


John looks up, startled, when Cam says, "Hey. We join you?"

"Um," John says, eyes flicking from Cam to Jackson and back. He doesn't look like a man who just buried his father, but Cam's seen him after he watched two of his closest friends get shot down. John never looks anything but fine. "Sure," he says hesitantly. "Um. Here."

He closes the book, giving Cam a look at the cover. "Lord of the Rings?" Cam says, turning it. It's obviously well-loved, the cover curled, the edges of the pages worn smooth. "I loved this when I was a teenager."

John smiles, almost shy. "Me too. My dad gave it to me." He looks away as soon as he says that.

Cam hesitates, not sure if he should admit to knowing John's dad died, but Jackson reaches across him to touch John's wrist, getting his attention, and says, "My condolences for your loss." It should sound at best overly formal and at worst sarcastic; instead, it just sounds sincere.

"Thanks," John says, sounding surprised but pleased.

Jackson shrugs, picks up his coffee cup, and like that cued it, an awkward silence descends, John turning his empty mug in his hands and looking at the table.

Cam definitely didn't come over here to make him feel worse, so he says, "When are you going back to Atlantis?"

John relaxes at the question, or maybe the change of subject. "Tomorrow morning. Said it'd break Ronon's quarantine at Midway for me to go before."

"Guess he didn't like that plan," Cam says.

John shakes his head. "Not so much."

"So you're stuck here overnight."

"Guest quarters," John agrees.

Cam doesn't even think before he opens his mouth and says, "You want to get out of here?" Both Jackson and John look over sharply at the question, and Cam adds quickly, "Hit a bar or something. Get dinner. We'll bring you back here after."

John raises his eyebrows slightly at ‘we,' but nods. "Sure. Now?"

Cam catches Jackson's eye as he drains his own coffee. "Now's good." It's even a reasonable time to be leaving, only just after six. "Jackson?"

Jackson hesitates, then says, "I need to grab a couple of things from my office. Mitchell, you want to give me a hand?"

"Um," Cam says uncertainly. It doesn't sound like Jackson's crying off, but that's never certain with him.

"Go on," John says, standing up. "I'll meet you at security." He walks off with his book and his mug before Cam can argue.

As soon as John's disappeared, Jackson grabs Cam's wrist, pulling him down the corridors towards Jackson's office. He doesn't let go until they're behind the closed door, Jackson leaning against it, glaring, arms crossed, as Cam tries to make himself comfortable on one of Jackson's high stools.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jackson asks.


They hooked up for the first time not long after Emerson was killed, but it took months for Cam to feel comfortable enough in bed with Jackson to talk after. It was worth waiting for, even if some of their post-coital conversations were pretty stupid.

Like the one a few days after Sam left for Atlantis, Cam sprawled exhausted but wide awake over Jackson when Jackson said, "If you could sleep with anyone on Atlantis, who would you choose?"

Cam still had no idea why Jackson asked those kinds of questions – weird attempt to get to know him better? Random pillow talk? – but he'd gotten used to answering them without thinking about it too much, and said, "Sheppard," pretty much immediately.

"I thought he used to be married," Jackson said.

Cam laughed. "He's not the only one. It's called bisexuality, Dr Jackson." He didn't even want to know how Jackson had found that out.

"How do you know he is?" Jackson asked.

"Same way I know you are." Cam felt Jackson still under him, and lifted his head to look at Jackson's face, almost comically surprised. "It's a pretty small Air Force."

"I know that," Jackson said. "I'm just surprised."

"That I slept with John?" Cam asked. "Or that I slept with another guy before you? I'm in the closet, I'm not a monk."

"I know that," Jackson said again, not quite meeting Cam's eyes.

Cam couldn't keep from teasing him, just a little. "You thought I spent all those years in repressed celibacy, until you came along and I just couldn't resist you any longer –"

"I get it," Jackson said, starting to smile.

Cam batted his eye lashes. "Be gentle with me, Dr Jackson."

Jackson rolled them suddenly, straddling Cam. "Shut up."

"Make me."

Jackson did.


"You're the one who was fantasizing about a threesome," Cam points out.

"Post-orgasmic fantasizing," Jackson corrects, like that makes any difference. "And I don't think the week of his father's funeral is exactly the time to be trying to seduce him."

"I'm not planning to get him drunk and take him back to our harem," Cam says. "Dinner, couple of beers, no strings comfort sex, if he wants to. Unless you really don't want to."

Jackson makes the same face he did when the inhabitants of M5T 608 asked for a naked demonstration of trustworthiness, the one that Cam's learned means ‘I'll say I'm just doing this for you, but really I find it incredibly hot.' At least if the bruises and the brain melting sex were anything to go by. "I suppose you know what you're doing."

"Hell, yeah," Cam says, wishing he could kiss Jackson to prove it.


John's quiet through dinner, only really speaking when one of them addresses him directly, but he's always got a real answer, paying attention, not drifting. Cam's more worried about the way his eyes keep flicking between Cam and Jackson, like he's trying to figure out what he's missing. He sort of didn't think about the exact details of propositioning a fellow Air Force officer into a threesome, which he suspects now won't be as easy as doing it on his own.

Particularly since John's drunk maybe half his beer.

"Get you boys anything else?" their waitress asks. She's been attentive since they got to the bar, which Cam puts down to the place being nearly empty – she certainly looks bored.

Cam and Jackson both shake their heads, but John smiles at her, all surface charm, and says, "Do you have any ice cream? We don't get it where I'm stationed."

Colorado Springs is a military town, so it doesn't work as well as it might elsewhere, familiarity breeding contempt and all that, but she smiles warmly enough at him. "I'll see what I can do."

"Ice cream?" Cam asks when she's gone.

"You'd miss it too if all you got was freeze-dried mint chocolate chip."

"Point," Cam agrees. He hates that stuff. "What else do you miss out there?"

"Why, you going to start sending care packages?"

"Maybe," Cam says, already contemplating how he can sneak booze onto the Daedalus.

John shrugs. "I dunno. Eighteen years in the Air Force, I'm kind of used to it."

Cam frowns. He doesn't know much about John's family, just enough to know that they're not close to him, but the thought of him slowly getting used to not having anything from home makes Cam's heart hurt. "That's pretty tragic, Shep."

The waitress comes back with a heaped bowl of vanilla and chocolate ice cream for John, who smiles at her, then at Cam. "Yeah," he says when she's gone. "But I have ice cream, so it could be worse."

"Easy to please," Jackson says lightly.

John swirls the chocolate and vanilla together, looking at Jackson from under his eyelashes. "Mostly just easy," he says, and Cam chokes on his beer.

Jackson pounds him on the back until Cam fights him off. John's watching them and smugly spooning up his ice cream. "You timed that on purpose," Cam accuses him.

John just looks at him for a long moment, then smiles a little. "Guess you're not as subtle as you think."

Cam drops his head into his hand with a groan, Jackson rubbing his back reassuringly.

"So?" Jackson says while Cam tries to decide whether he's more embarrassed or amused. "Want to go home?"

"Your home?"

Jackson taps Cam's shoulder. "His home," he corrects. "Bed's bigger."


"Home sweet home," Cam says, guiding John into his apartment with a hand in the small of his back, John's skin warm under his shirt. Jackson toes his boots off and heads into the kitchen, where Cam hears the faucet turn on – Jackson making coffee, as usual.

"Better than a room under a mountain," John says, drifting into Cam's den and over to the window, Cam's view of the lights downtown.

"You could get a place on Earth," Cam says. "It's not like you're never here."

John makes a non-committal noise.

"Or a hotel room at least. More privacy."

"Hmm," John says again, still watching the street.

Cam steps up behind him, tugs gently on his wrist to bring him round to face Cam. John looks a little distant, but he offers a smile, lets Cam pull him a little closer, enough to kiss. It's familiar enough, neither of them changed all that much, except that Cam's used to kissing Jackson, and that makes this strange, even when John shifts, settles against him, fitting together.

"Guess there's not point asking if anyone wants coffee," Jackson says, amused. When Cam looks over, he's leaning in the kitchen doorway, coffee mug in hand, watching them.

"Come here," Cam says, holding out a hand to him.

Jackson shakes his head. "I'm not giving your neighbors a free show."

"I'm with him," John agrees, easing out of Cam's arms. "I got thrown around a warehouse by a replicator, no sex on the floor."

"Who knew the two of you were such traditionalists?" Cam asks. Not that he doesn't prefer being able to spread out and fall asleep afterwards without waking up too stiff to move. "But you're not bringing your coffee."

Cam leaves the overhead light off, ducks round his bed to close the curtains and turn on the bedside lamp. When he turns around again, John and Jackson are standing just inside the open doorway, Jackson's hand in John's hair, John's hands tight in Jackson's shirt, kissing.

Yeah, this was definitely a good idea.

It's a little tempting to sit back and just watch, but Cam's not real good at sitting still. He steps up behind John instead, presses in to hold him close for a minute before starting on his shirt buttons. John laughs when Cam's fingers skate over his stomach, and he leans back from Jackson to catch Cam's eye. "You trying to have your way with me?"

Cam pulls John's shirt off. "What was your first clue?"

John shrugs, slides his hands under Jackson's t-shirt. "I'm not gonna be the only one naked here."

"Sounds good to me," Jackson agrees, raising his arms so John can remove his t-shirt. To Cam's surprise, he hooks a hand round Cam's neck when John's done, and kisses him, not John. It's jarring to kiss Jackson when he's pressed against John, but not in a bad way. Even less when John moves, kissing Jackson's neck. Jackson makes an interested sound against Cam's mouth, and Cam guesses John got lucky, found the one spot Jackson actually likes to be kissed there.

It's all good, right up until John shifts his footing and bumps Cam with his hip. Cam loses his balance, stumbles half a step back, and it's only Jackson's grip on his arm that keeps him from going down in an undignified heap.

"Someone mention a bed?" Jackson asks drily, releasing Cam's arm slowly.

John takes a step away from both of them. "Maybe get undressed first? Before Mitchell does one of us a grievous injury trying to get his socks off?"

Cam would really like to argue, but it's not like John doesn't have a point – Cam's coordination is always the first thing to go when he's turned on, and they all know it.

He's down to his boxer briefs when Jackson strips off the last of his own clothes and apparently decides he's not prepared to wait, wrapping his hands round Cam's arms and bearing him down to the bed, straddling Cam and ducking his head to suck at Cam's nipples. Cam moans, drops his head back and closes his eyes, his cock hardening. He can't quite help the instinctive urge to struggle against Jackson holding him down, and Jackson releases his arms immediately, hands on either side of Cam's shoulders instead, and that's better, so he pulls Jackson closer, until Jackson's half-lying over him, cock stiffening against Cam's thigh.

It's a brief shock when he feels a hand on his thigh, before he remembers John. He opens his eyes, turns his head, and John's propped up on one elbow next to him, stroking idly over Cam's thigh as he watches Jackson take Cam apart with just his mouth.

"Okay?" Cam asks, since John's face is as unreadable as ever. John nods. "So come here and kiss me then," Cam says, grabbing John's shoulder, careful of the bruise spreading over his upper arm, and pulling him in.

It takes him longer than it should to realize that John's still soft where he's pressed against Cam, and apparently they're not sharing all that well after all. Thing is, Cam knows John, not as well as he knows Jackson, but well enough to know what he wants that Cam can easily give.

"Jackson," Cam says, pushing him away as gently as he can. Jackson goes, giving Cam a betrayed glare as he sits back on his heels. Cam just rolls his eyes, pushing John onto his back, careful, because he does know John, but he doesn't know him now, except in reports, and the reports don't say anything good when John's had issues as long as Cam's known him. John goes, but his hands fall against the mattress and he's gone tense all over again; Cam can't tell if it's discomfort from his bruises, or discomfort from the position.

"Relax," Cam says, which doesn't seem to help at all, though John doesn't tell him to stop, something he's never been hesitant about doing.

Cam slides round, nudges John's legs open a little, and takes John's soft cock into his mouth. John makes a little noise of contentment, and his thigh muscles relax under Cam's hands. If he could, Cam would smile, pleased it worked, even more pleased when John's cock twitches in his mouth. He can feel Jackson somewhere near him, probably kissing John – Jackson likes to kiss, which is no hardship whatsoever to Cam.

He's settled into a rhythm, John fully hard on his tongue, when the bed shifts. It has to be Jackson, John pliant under Cam's hands, unsurprisingly content to let Cam blow him till he comes, but Cam still starts a little when Jackson presses against him, curves around the shape of his body. He kisses Cam's neck, right where the collar of his t-shirt will just cover it if he leaves a mark, right where Cam loves to be touched, and just as Cam's figuring out if he can tip his head into it and still bring John off, Jackson pushes against Cam's ass. Cam's got no idea what he and John have been doing, but Jackson's rock hard, sliding between Cam's cheeks, dragging the material of his underwear damply over sensitive skin.

Cam shivers, moves to give Jackson more room, and John says, "Fucks, that's hot," sounding very far away. Jackson makes a noise of agreement, rubbing against Cam. If Cam wasn't already hard, that'd be more than enough to do it; instead, he rocks back into Jackson's thrusts, then forward to rub against John's leg, not caring what he looks like. Jackson's already seen him at his most vulnerable, his most dumb and humiliated, in bed and out, and he doesn't care what John thinks.

Assuming John's even thinking anything right now; his hips are shifting with Cam's rhythm, fucking into Cam's mouth a little, then a little more when Cam moves back to let him do it. He groans when Cam tightens his hands on John's thighs, not hold him down but giving him something to push against, polar opposites on that, and Cam can taste John on his tongue, ready to come.

"Stop," John says breathlessly. "Cam, stop, I'm gonna – we didn't use a condom."

Cam's not going to ask, because if it bothers John enough to mention it, it'd be enough to stop things anyway. He lets John's cock slide out of his mouth, ducks lower to suck at his balls instead, and John says, "Fuck, fuck," and comes against Cam's skin. It's messy and hot, and Jackson's thrusting faster against him, fingers tight on Cam's hips, and Cam's fucking desperate to come, except his hands are locked against John's skin as John shudders and pants, cock twitching with every pass of Cam's mouth over his skin.

"Come on," Cam says, not even sure who he's talking to. "Come on, please."

Someone's listening anyway – Jackson pushes him down onto his stomach, his face pressed against John's thigh, and shoves his cock between Cam's legs, dragging damp cotton over his balls. Cam lets out a noise that's close to a sob; all it gets him is John's fumbling fingers petting his hair, and he doesn't want that, he wants someone to touch him, wants to get off.

"Jackson," he says, muffled against John's skin, but it's too late – Jackson rubs against him once more, and comes with a low moan right in Cam's ear. It's almost, almost enough to push Cam over as well, if he could just move enough to rub himself off against the mattress, but Jackson's holding him down too well, and, great, there's the edge of panic that's ruined more than one sexual encounter.

"Cam," John says, tugging lightly at Cam's hair like it's not the first time he's tried to get Cam's attention. "Stop it, come up here."

Jackson half rolls away, enough for Cam to wriggle up the length of John's body, his forehead pressing into the small of Cam's back.

"Got you," John says, eyes blurry as he meets Cam's gaze. He pushes his hand into Cam's boxer briefs, wraps it firm and warm around Cam's cock, and Cam comes, finally, perfect.


Cam dozes a little, but he's a mess of sweat and come that's really only hot until it starts to dry, and in the end, he has to climb out from between his slumbering bed-mates and take a shower. When he goes back into the bedroom, only Jackson's left in bed, mouth open slightly, fast asleep, and John's jeans are missing. Cam hopes that doesn't mean he's left; pulls on fresh clothes and pads barefoot out of the room.

He finds John sitting at the kitchen table, mug of coffee in his hands, wearing an old sweatshirt of Cam's. He's left the lights off, but the streetlights below are enough for Cam to see his face, especially when he looks up.

"Did I wake you?" Cam asks quietly.

John shakes his head. "Restless. Hope you don't mind…" He makes a vague gesture that somehow encompasses coffee and sweatshirt, and maybe Cam himself.

"Course not." Cam pours his own cup of coffee. "You hungry?"

John shakes his head again. "You don't have to sit up with me."

"S'okay. I'm awake now anyway." He sits opposite John, just watches him for a minute. He looks tired now, worn, the last few days settling over his face and body. "You okay?"

John nods absently, meaningless, automatic response, then looks up, more serious. "You okay? You and Dr Jackson?"

Cam can't help laughing a little. "You just had sex with us, you could call him Daniel."

"You don't," John says, still serious, and Cam gets it, a beat late – John's worried about him.

"Not like that," he says. "I dunno. Jackson's habit. Daniel doesn't sound right any more." John just keeps looking at him. "Seriously. We're good. I wouldn't have suggested this if we weren't."

John's face clears a little and he nods slowly. "Okay. I don't want to fuck up whatever the two of you have going."

"You haven't," Cam promises. "Come on, let's go back to bed. You look worn out."

"Rough few days," John agrees, following Cam, and Cam knows it's true when John lets himself be manhandled between Cam and Jackson, and falls asleep there, Cam holding him safe.

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