blue flamingos


Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG1

Category/Rated: Slash, PG

Year/Length: 2008/ ~782 words

Pairing: Cam/John

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

Series: The Return 'verse

Author's Notes: For [info]skieswideopen, who wanted something seven years after the last story in the Return'verse

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


"Christ, where's a Wraith attack when you really need one?" John grumbles, adjusting his tie again.

"Be careful what you wish for." Cam pushes his hands away and straightens the tie, then keeps hold of John's hands when he looks like he's planning on going for it again. "I have to stand next to you for an hour talking about alien planets, the least you can do is look the part."

"I look the part," John complains, gesturing down to his dress uniform, taking Cam's hand with him.

Cam leans in close; they're on their own, finally. The SGC press officer (which, for the record, will never be a normal thing to say, even when declassification in years instead of weeks behind them) is out front giving the press potted service histories of him and John by way of introduction. "You look like you should be on an Air Force calendar," he says, keeping his voice low, because there's no such thing as privacy this close to the mountain's press room, and neither of them wants this to become public knowledge. "It's hard enough to keep my hands off you like that, without you getting all... mussed up."

"Yeah?" John asks, one eyebrow going up as he grins. "I never knew uniforms did it for you."

"You in uniform does it for me," Cam corrects, sliding his hands up John's arms. He's not blushing; after coming up on a decade with the guy, he should be well over the tendency to flush, talking about sex with John.

"Now you tell me," John says. His eyes are locked on Cam's, but his hand goes up anyway, messing his hair even more than it was before. Cam swallows, hard, feeling like an idiot. He has no idea what they'd look like if someone comes in. They're barely touching, just his hands on John's shoulders, plenty of space between them, but John's eyes are bright, and Cam's skin feels tight.

"I'm not going in front of the world's press with a hard-on," he tells John firmly.

"That doesn't really seem like the impression General Hodges was hoping for, no," John agrees. "Though it'd probably give half the room a thrill."

Cam just looks at him, waiting for whatever comes next to make that make sense. It's a feeling he's gotten very used to over the past few years, between SG-1 and John.

"How you can have gotten to your age and be so clueless is beyond me," John says, which Cam thinks is pretty rich, considering John's oft-stated never-sees-it-coming. "You're every woman's ideal of an Air Force pilot. They start fantasizing about you sweeping them away the moment you set foot in the room."

"Couldn't have told me this years ago, could you?" Cam teases. He knows what John means, even if he doesn't understand it; if John in uniform, never quite neat, does it for him, then his own compulsion to perfect neatness in dress blues seems to do it for other people. He'll never get it.

"I wasn't good enough with the sticks then," John says, grinning. "Couldn't have fought them all off."

Cam's halfway to replying when the press officer's aide steps into their little ante-room. "Colonels? They're ready for you now."

"Great," Cam says as sincerely as he can manage. He always thought the nice thing about working for a top-secret project was that he didn't have to talk about it to anyone in public. Now, as leader of SG-1, even if it's not the original version, he's almost as in demand as John. The press officer is talking this question and answer session up as a chance to meet the leaders of the SGC's two flagship off-world teams. Really, it's a chance for the two of them to get as many questions out of the way as they can, so they can go back to the leading they're supposed to be doing, before John goes insane with the need to be back on Atlantis.

"Here goes nothing," John says brightly, but there's a hint of nerves under the cheer, skating around his eyes and the corner of his mouth. Cam's one of a very small number of people who'd be able to see it, or even know to look.

"You'll be fine," he says. "You'll be back being attacked by the Wraith before you know it."

John just raises his eyebrows, running a hand through his hair again. Cam doesn't think it's on purpose this time, but he reaches up to smooth it down anyway.

"Colonels?" the aide says again.

"After you," John says, making an exaggerated gesture for Cam to lead the way.

Cam does, protecting John, for once.

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