(no subject)
Title: Macaroons
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Cam
Ratings: PG
Words: 907
Disclaimer: Not mine! Hrmf.
That.... nasty thing was the start of their friendship that soon led to the spark that began their relationship. Sam never liked macaroons, but Cam grew up with them, loving every single flavour that his grandmother could come up with.
She never liked it, but since Cam loves it, she had actually learned how to bake it. If she could make a soufflé, she can bake the damn macaroons.
So now, at least once a week, Sam bakes Cam a batch of macaroons. He had given up his career for a chance of “them”. He took the leap of faith, or the leap of trust-in-the-Universe. He could never ask Sam to give up her career, knowing how much it meant to her, and she never did ask him to give up his. It was solely his decision. One he had never regretted.
His dad had always told him, “Son, when you find something you want, you’ve got to go for it. Even if it means giving up everything else, because if you don’t try, you will think back on the day where you stood at that crossroad thinking if you should, and what if you did.”
So he did.
Three years after, Samantha Carter now works in the Pentagon and Cameron became a pilot instructor for a private sector.
*
“Are we getting chocolate ones this week?” Cameron asked, ruffling the hair of his little boy as he crossed the kitchen and planted a kiss on his wife’s lips. Baking macaroons was a small gesture, a way of thanks for everything Cam had given up for them.
“Ronan wanted cookies and cream.” Sam said with an apologetic shrug.
Cameron turned to his son with a feigned look of shock on his face. “Did you, now? But isn’t it Daddy’s turn to pick this week?”
Ronan giggled and fiddled with the ends of his shirt. “It can be your turn next week.” He promised in a small voice.
“You promise?” Cameron asked, gathering the boy up in his arms. He nodded, receiving a big kiss on his cheek from his father.
“Alright, give mummy a big kiss and we’ll be on our way to school.” Cameron instructed, as he put him down again.
Ronan ran to Sam and wrapped his small arms around her legs, giggling. She bent down, embracing her son. He laid a wet kiss on her cheek and buried his face in the side of her neck.
“I love you, mommy.”
“I love you too sweetheart. Be good,” she said, kissing him on the top of his head.
*
Bed time stories were probably the easiest thing when it came to parenting Ronan-he would only ask for one story: The Macaroon Story, as he named it. He would wear a silly grin on his face as either of his parents told the story about what brought them together, like any little boy would grin at the story of the adventures of a mystical train.
“Mommy hates it,” Cameron will always begin the story that way, stirring giggles from the little boy as he hugged his stuffed teddy and listened on eagerly, looking up at his father with his big, blue eyes.
“But Daddy just had to bring her a batch. Maybe she has had bad ones, and she would love the ones Daddy brought her.” He said, and Ronan would always ask, “What flavour were they?”
They were vanilla and milk chocolate, but every night, Cameron and Samantha would substitute the flavour for a different one.
“Strawberry,” Cameron said with a smile.
“I love the strawberry ones!” Ronan’s eyes lit up.
“Me too,” Cameron grinned. “So Daddy thought since strawberry ones are my favourite they should be the flavour that I would bring first. But mommy looked into the bag,” he made a face and pretended to sniff into an invisible bag. “And she took one out and bit into it,” he cringed, and Ronan burst into laughter.
“That’s because the ones Mommy baked are much better,” Sam would stand by the doorway and tease, often interjecting mid-story if she managed to finish her work before Cameron finishes the story.
When the both of them told the story together, it would often trail off to something else. Sometimes it would be Cameron’s famous chocolate mousse cake, or Sam’s perfect soufflé, other times it would be how many times Cameron tried to master his grandmother’s roast chicken recipe and Sam got it right the first try.
Ronan would giggle, and then he would turn to his side and stare lovingly at his parents as he hugged his stuffed teddy a little tighter, then half his little face will bury deeper into pillow and his knees will bend into a curl. It won’t be too long before his eyes drift close towards the end of the story.
Cam and Sam would kiss Ronan softly on forehead, ruffle his hair gently and whisper “Good night” before turning off the lights.
Sometimes, Ronan would mutter a soft “goodnight” in his sleep.
They often wondered if they could ever steer his interest into other directions. Both his parents are in the military, one of them a also brilliant scientist and another one of the top fighter pilots in the country, but all their son was interested in were stories about their experiments with food.
Perhaps he would grow up to be an excellent chef. Cameron's grandmother would be proud.
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Cam
Ratings: PG
Words: 907
Disclaimer: Not mine! Hrmf.
That.... nasty thing was the start of their friendship that soon led to the spark that began their relationship. Sam never liked macaroons, but Cam grew up with them, loving every single flavour that his grandmother could come up with.
She never liked it, but since Cam loves it, she had actually learned how to bake it. If she could make a soufflé, she can bake the damn macaroons.
So now, at least once a week, Sam bakes Cam a batch of macaroons. He had given up his career for a chance of “them”. He took the leap of faith, or the leap of trust-in-the-Universe. He could never ask Sam to give up her career, knowing how much it meant to her, and she never did ask him to give up his. It was solely his decision. One he had never regretted.
His dad had always told him, “Son, when you find something you want, you’ve got to go for it. Even if it means giving up everything else, because if you don’t try, you will think back on the day where you stood at that crossroad thinking if you should, and what if you did.”
So he did.
Three years after, Samantha Carter now works in the Pentagon and Cameron became a pilot instructor for a private sector.
*
“Are we getting chocolate ones this week?” Cameron asked, ruffling the hair of his little boy as he crossed the kitchen and planted a kiss on his wife’s lips. Baking macaroons was a small gesture, a way of thanks for everything Cam had given up for them.
“Ronan wanted cookies and cream.” Sam said with an apologetic shrug.
Cameron turned to his son with a feigned look of shock on his face. “Did you, now? But isn’t it Daddy’s turn to pick this week?”
Ronan giggled and fiddled with the ends of his shirt. “It can be your turn next week.” He promised in a small voice.
“You promise?” Cameron asked, gathering the boy up in his arms. He nodded, receiving a big kiss on his cheek from his father.
“Alright, give mummy a big kiss and we’ll be on our way to school.” Cameron instructed, as he put him down again.
Ronan ran to Sam and wrapped his small arms around her legs, giggling. She bent down, embracing her son. He laid a wet kiss on her cheek and buried his face in the side of her neck.
“I love you, mommy.”
“I love you too sweetheart. Be good,” she said, kissing him on the top of his head.
*
Bed time stories were probably the easiest thing when it came to parenting Ronan-he would only ask for one story: The Macaroon Story, as he named it. He would wear a silly grin on his face as either of his parents told the story about what brought them together, like any little boy would grin at the story of the adventures of a mystical train.
“Mommy hates it,” Cameron will always begin the story that way, stirring giggles from the little boy as he hugged his stuffed teddy and listened on eagerly, looking up at his father with his big, blue eyes.
“But Daddy just had to bring her a batch. Maybe she has had bad ones, and she would love the ones Daddy brought her.” He said, and Ronan would always ask, “What flavour were they?”
They were vanilla and milk chocolate, but every night, Cameron and Samantha would substitute the flavour for a different one.
“Strawberry,” Cameron said with a smile.
“I love the strawberry ones!” Ronan’s eyes lit up.
“Me too,” Cameron grinned. “So Daddy thought since strawberry ones are my favourite they should be the flavour that I would bring first. But mommy looked into the bag,” he made a face and pretended to sniff into an invisible bag. “And she took one out and bit into it,” he cringed, and Ronan burst into laughter.
“That’s because the ones Mommy baked are much better,” Sam would stand by the doorway and tease, often interjecting mid-story if she managed to finish her work before Cameron finishes the story.
When the both of them told the story together, it would often trail off to something else. Sometimes it would be Cameron’s famous chocolate mousse cake, or Sam’s perfect soufflé, other times it would be how many times Cameron tried to master his grandmother’s roast chicken recipe and Sam got it right the first try.
Ronan would giggle, and then he would turn to his side and stare lovingly at his parents as he hugged his stuffed teddy a little tighter, then half his little face will bury deeper into pillow and his knees will bend into a curl. It won’t be too long before his eyes drift close towards the end of the story.
Cam and Sam would kiss Ronan softly on forehead, ruffle his hair gently and whisper “Good night” before turning off the lights.
Sometimes, Ronan would mutter a soft “goodnight” in his sleep.
They often wondered if they could ever steer his interest into other directions. Both his parents are in the military, one of them a also brilliant scientist and another one of the top fighter pilots in the country, but all their son was interested in were stories about their experiments with food.
Perhaps he would grow up to be an excellent chef. Cameron's grandmother would be proud.