blue flamingos

The Morning After

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG1

Category/Rated: Slash, PG

Year/Length: 2007/ ~789 words

Pairing: John/Cam

Spoilers: The Return

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

Series: The Return 'verse

Author's Notes: For the International Fuzzy Bathrobe Day Challenge!

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


John's got used to the feeling of disorientation that comes from waking up underground instead of in Atlantis, but it's actually even worse to wake up to natural light. He blinks cautiously, waiting for the shadows to resolve into meaningful shapes.

He's still lying there, trying to figure out why he's alone in bed in a strange place, when he hears a familiar voice somewhere else in the apartment. The bedroom door's open just far enough to let in a little light, but not far enough for him to be able to hear what Cameron's saying. It sounds like he's on the phone, long pauses between the murmur of his voice.

John scrubs his hands over his face and through his hair then drags himself out of bed. The clothes he was wearing last night are in a heap by the bed, mixed with Cameron's, but his own jeans and t-shirt are easy to pick out. He ducks quickly into the bathroom to brush his teeth – because of course Cameron Mitchell is the kind of person who has spare toothbrushes for unexpected overnight guests – then pads after the sound of Cameron's voice, the carpet soft under his bare feet.

He finds Cameron in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, stirring milk into his coffee, nodding at whatever the person on the other end of the phone is saying. He's got his back to John, so he leans in the doorway, waiting. He feels weirdly reticent about wandering around uninvited, considering he had Cameron's dick in his mouth last night – he's pretty sure that at least gives him permission to make himself some coffee for the mild hangover he can feel threatening.

Cameron's wearing a red and white striped bathrobe that stops just above his knees and John suspects he's not wearing anything under it. He's hit by a sudden visceral flashback, Cameron's skin smooth under his palms as he pushed Cameron's shirt away, kissing hard on Cameron's couch, a little drunk from Cameron's first attempt to comfort him after Rodney left for Area 51.

"John?" John blinks back into the room, Cameron frowning at him from the other side of the kitchen, his phone call over. "You OK?"

"Yeah." John nods. He's suddenly unsure what to do with his hands; he doesn't usually stay the night unless he's involved with the person and has to. Doesn't remember agreeing to stay either, which means they fell asleep.

"You want some coffee?" Cameron flicks the kettle on again before John's finished reflexively nodding. "You didn't have to – that was Sam on the phone, Landry's put our briefing back to this afternoon so..."

He trails off and John realises that this is Cameron's version of his own desire to shove his hands into his pockets. It's oddly reassuring, makes it much easier to move close enough to Cameron to take the mug of coffee he holds out. "I'll call a cab back to the Mountain," he offers.

Cameron runs a hand through his hair before picking up his coffee again, leaving it sticking up the way John's usually does. In his robe, with his unsure expression, he doesn't look anything like the golden boy of the Air Force.

"I can give you a ride, when I go in," he says, his head tilted down so John can't see his expression.

John hesitates – he's probably going to be seeing a lot of Cameron from the way Landry was talking – but he's already spent the night and he can't really imagine things getting any worse than they are. Being thrown off the Stargate programme wouldn't even be in the top ten of bad things that could happen right now.

He puts his mug down firmly. "That thing makes you look like a fuzzy candy cane," he says. Cameron smiles. "You should take it off."

It sounded pretty dumb in his head, and even worse out loud, but Cameron's eyes, when he looks up, are dark and interested, He takes a step towards John, near enough to touch, though he doesn't. He runs a hand round the back of his neck instead. "You'd, er... you'd be a little overdressed," he says, and his face does something weird, like he's heard what he just said and wishes he hadn't.

John really doesn't know Cameron all that well, but he kind of likes him, and not everyone takes mockery as a sign of affection. Cameron's smiling though, biting his lip a little.

"Can we pretend we didn't just say that?" Cameron asks.

John nods, reaching up to replace Cameron's hand with his own on the back of Cameron's neck. "Let's start over," he suggests, and pulls Cameron in to kiss him.

Next: Storm

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