blue flamingos

Necessary Precautions

Fandom: SG1/SGA

Category/Rated: Slash/PG

Year/Length: 2010/636 words

Pairing: Cam/John

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

Prompt: clandestine

Summary: future fic

Author's Notes: for skieswideopen

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


John's almost through security and out of the mountain when Dr Jackson catches up to him. "Colonel Sheppard, I was hoping you might have a minute to -"

He's already turning back, like he expects John to follow him, and John's late. "Sorry, Doc. Maybe tomorrow."

"You've -" Jackson looks at John, takes in his jeans and shirt, the car keys in his hand. "You're leaving."

"Yes," John says. Then he puts on his very best innocent face and lies: "Nothing like six months in another galaxy to make you crave ice cream."

"Of course," Jackson says. He looks half a second away from launching into some sort of lecture about this, or maybe a reminiscence about the year he spent living on another planet, a decade and a half ago.

"We can talk tomorrow," John promises, before Jackson can start, and high-tails it out of there.

He finds his car, bought during their six weeks back on Earth, tucked in the far corner of the lot, and does a couple of circuits around the neighborhood, checking for anyone following him, before he turns right and heads for the road he really wants.

Mindful of the lie he told Jackson, he stops at an ice cream parlor on his way and buys a double chocolate cone. The first taste makes it less of a lie – now he has it, he really misses real ice cream.

He parks in an underground lot a couple of blocks away from where he's going, nicely surrounded by SGC personnel apartments, a couple doors down from a bar and in walking distance of a hotel, trying not to feel too foolish as he does it.

He's really running late by then, so he forgoes an on-foot circuit around the block, just heads straight for the building he wants and buzzes the intercom. "It's me," he says as soon as it connects, and the door clicks open without a response.

He bypasses the elevator, buzzing with anticipation after six months apart, and takes the stairs two at a time to the third floor. The familiar, nondescript apartment door opens just as he hits the landin, and Cam sticks his head out, smiling. "Colonel Sheppard," he says, holding out a hand.

John bites his lip to keep from laughing at how absurd this feels and shakes Cam's hand. "Colonel Mitchell. Thanks for the offer of a guest bed."

"No problem," Cam says. He checks both ways down the corridor, then tugs John inside, nudges the door closed with his foot and pushes John up against it to kiss him stupid. John just holds on for the ride – literally, since Cam's still holding his hand, and John really has no desire to let go.

"You know," he says, when they eventually break apart. "We'd have something like a whole extra half hour together if I didn't go through all that first."

Cam shrugs, grinning. "Rituals should be observed."

"Pointless rituals," John emphasizes, skipping over the part where, even when they were necessary, they made him feel paranoid and silly. "This has been officially within the rules for a year and a half."

"Yeah," Cam says, pressing close to John again, "But I know how you like to pretend you're a maverick, breaking all the rules. I'm just helping you keep up the illusion."

"For completely selfless reasons," John half asks, raising an eyebrow.

Cam doesn't even bother faking repentance, just nudges John's legs apart so he can feel Cam's 'selfless reasons.' "I like the anticipation," he says.

John's not going to argue with that one. "I like the part we're waiting for," he says.

On that, they're in complete agreement.

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