blue flamingos

Storm

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG1

Category/Rated: Slash, PG

Year/Length: 2007/ ~979 words

Pairing: Cam/John

Spoilers: The Return II

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

Series: The Return 'verse

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

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"Um," Cam says intelligently when he opens his front door. He's not surprised to see John standing there – he did just buzz him up – but he is a little surprised to see John standing there in jeans and leather jacket, dripping wet. His hair is flat under the weight of water in it, the collar of his shirt is curled up and almost see-through, his jeans are a couple shades darker than Cam thinks they were originally, and he's left a trail of boot-prints from the elevator to Cam's door.

"It's raining," John says, wiping at the water drops running into his eyes.

"Yes," Cam agrees. The storm obliges with a crack of thunder to punctuate his comment. "It's been raining for the last three hours."

"I know." John wipes at his face again, then runs his hand through his hair, sending water in every direction, including Cam's.

"So you decided it was a good time for a walk?" he asks, and John just looks at him, the way he looks when he talks about his new team, like Cam's so stupid John despairs of him. Cam figures it comes from two and half years of spending every day with McKay.

"Should I be worried that you think I'm an emo teenager?" John asks. Cam actually thinks he should be more worried that John's using the word in casual conversation, but he knows better than to say this.

"I'm not the one walking around the city in the rain," he says instead. "You coming in?"

Johns nods, brushes past him. Cam closes the door; when he turns, John's crouched down, battling with his sodden boot laces. "I'll get you a towel," he offers. "And some dry clothes."

He comes back with sweats and a towel to find John sitting against the wall, still struggling with the same boot. He looks up, gives Cam a tired smile.

"You all right?" Cam asks, crouching down to start on John's other boot, picking apart the firmly tied knot. When John doesn't answer, he tries again. "You want to tell me why you walked here in the rain?"

John gives up on his boot and reaches for the towel, rubbing his hair. Cam suspects it's not a coincidence that this lets him cover his face, especially when he says, "I forgot I could get a cab until I was halfway here."

It should be funny – it is funny, distantly, or will be, eventually – but John sounds worn down. It's the first time Cam's heard him sound anything other than relentlessly normal and fine since he followed his people back through the gate, barely a week ago, and it's that more than anything else that stops him asking why John's in his apartment. They've only been sleeping together for a matter of days, and they don't have enough previous history for him to expect John to seek him out.

He finally gets John's lace untied and pulls his boot off, then starts on the one John abandoned. "How's the apartment hunting going?"

John drops the towel, his hair drier, but sticking up in a way that makes him look several years younger than he really is, even with the sardonic smile on his face. "Aside from the guy the SGC found me being convinced that windows are an optional extra, great." He shrugs, watching Cam's hands. "No, fine. One more place to see, but I'm probably gonna take the one I looked at yesterday."

Twenty minute drive from the Mountain, Cam remembers, close enough to get there fast in an emergency. Not that Landry's likely to call him; no-one below SG-5 gets hauled in unless the end of the world is *really* imminent. "If you need a hand moving, I know a guy who'll lend me his truck."

"Thanks. Figured I'd bribe a couple of marines into helping me. I haven't got that much stuff."

The Daedalus is due by the end of the week, bringing everything that couldn't come through the wormhole. Cam's never seen John's room on Atlantis, but he's seen his quarters on a couple of different bases on Earth, before their careers diverged. John takes travelling light to extremes.

He tugs off John's other boot and sets them on the doormat to dry, then takes John's hand and pulls him to his feet. John sways into him slightly and puts a hand on his waist, catching his balance. "You all right?" Cam asks again. "What've you been doing all day?"

"Training run with SG-13," John says. Cam knows them – two geologists who run marathons for fun, and a couple of Air Force officers who should have been marines and kind of scare him a little bit. No wonder John looks ready to keel over, running around any planet with the four of them for the day; they consider it their duty to try and break any new recruit, and apparently two years on Atlantis haven't exempted John from this.

"Get changed," he tells John, taking the towel back from him. The thunder crashes again, followed by a burst of lightning that has the overhead light flickering; the storm's set in for the night.

John pulls the hood up on Cam's sweatshirt and pads after him, barefoot, until Cam pushes him onto the sofa. "Sit. Stay. Find something decent to watch. I'll make some coffee."

When he walks back in, coffee mugs in one hand, tin of brownies from his mom in the other, John's got the remote in one hand, the other supporting his head on the arm of the sofa. His eyes are closed, and he's almost snoring.

Cam stares at him for a long moment, wondering what the hell he's getting himself into here, then leaves the coffee and brownies on the table, and goes to throw John's wet clothes in the dryer.

Next: (Mis)Adventures in the Milky Way Galaxy


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