Beginnings (1/1)
Title: Beginnings
Author: somehowunbroken
Fandom: SGA
Characters: John and Cam, AR-1
Word Count: 3,022
Rating: PG-13
Notes: For susnn , who bought me in the help_japan auction and asked for John and Cam, gen, background. Thanks for being so patient!
Summary: They met twenty years ago, under slightly hilarious circumstances.
“Ow,” John complains, glaring at Cam, who smiles cheerily in return.
“If you’re glaring that hard, it can’t hurt too much,” Cam points out, taping the bandage more firmly in place. “And it would hurt less if you’d stop moving around so much, Sheppard.”
“It would hurt less if you stopped touching it, Mitchell,” John says through his teeth, and Cam feels bad about it for a moment. John had caught a bullet in his thigh as they’d been running away from the latest “friendly” natives, on a planet that John had assured him would be great for a quick look at Pegasus. It had gone great until the guns had come out. John had turned to provide cover fire for McKay, who had tripped in the thick brush, and his thanks had been a fairly ugly wound.
“You’ll be fine,” Cam says, mostly because John’s got that slightly haunted look that he gets when things get a little too close for comfort, and if there’s one thing that Cam has learned about his friend in the years since they’ve met, it’s that the quickest way to wipe that look from John’s face is to make him feel like you’re coddling him in some way.
Sure enough, John bristles and scowls. “Of course I will. We’ll just wait here for nightfall, and then we’ll sneak back to the Gate and get home. Piece of cake.”
“Piece of insanity,” McKay rebuts from the other side of the cave. His ankle is wrapped in something that isn’t quite an Ace bandage, but looks to be holding all the same. Teyla is sitting nearby, narrowing her eyes as McKay moves around like he’s trying to get up. “I mean, okay, Sheppard, I understand that you think you’re some kind of superhero, and God knows I’ve seen you pull off enough stunts that I might actually be starting to believe it.” He tilts his head. “You’re not the only one with an injury, though. I very much doubt I’ll be doing a lot of sneaking around until this heals up.”
“It’ll be fine in a few hours,” Ronon says from the cave’s entrance. “By the time night falls, you’ll be ready to run again.”
“I doubt it,” McKay sniffs, glaring at Ronon’s back. Cam has the distinct feeling that Ronon knows that McKay is glaring and is ignoring him as a form of baiting. Miraculously, though, McKay just sniffs again and slumps back into the rock beneath him. “I’ll probably need crutches.”
“Rodney, I do not think that your injury is that grave,” Teyla says evenly, but the exchange has brought a small smile to John’s face. Good. The pain can’t be too bad, then, and John doesn’t seem to be going into shock.
“This Hey, do you remember the time Connors messed his knee up?” John asks. Cam can’t hold back the snort of laughter as the memory makes him grin.
“I’m pretty sure that even McKay can’t whine as much as Connors did,” Cam counters. “Nine hours to hike out of the jungle and he didn’t stop moaning about how much it hurt, how he hoped he’d be able to come back to active duty after the multiple surgeries he was so sure he’d need-”
“-and the doc took one look at him, popped the joint back in the right way, and gave him an Advil,” John finishes, laughing. “Yeah, Rodney, you sound like a real trooper after that guy.”
McKay switches his glare from the back of Ronon’s head to John’s face. “Very funny, Sheppard.”
“It really is,” John agrees, still smiling. “At least you’re not sitting here talking about how you’re pretty sure it’s going to fall off before we get you back to the base.”
Cam snorts again as Teyla smiles. “You have known each other for a long time,” she observes.
“Yeah,” Cam agrees. “It’s been quite a while.”
“How did you meet?”
John groans as Cam laughs long and loud. “Please don’t,” he almost begs. “There’s no reason to tell them, Mitchell. We met while I was in college,” he says to Teyla. “It was about twenty years ago.”
Ronon settles himself so he can glance over at the rest of the group while still keeping an eye on the mouth of the cave. “Sounds like there’s more to that story,” he says with a smirk that rivals John’s usual one. “I’m interested.”
“Oh, yeah,” McKay says, leaning forward with an attentive look on his face. He seems to have forgotten all about his injury. “This I have to hear. Cough it up, Mitchell. What sort of embarrassing thing did Sheppard do when you met?”
“Nothing,” Cam grins, and John lets out a tiny sigh of relief. “It wasn’t any one thing he did, really. It was a few smaller things combined that really did it.”
John groans again and buries his face in his hands as Cam smiles more widely and settles in to face the rest of the group. “So I was twenty-one years old…”
-0-
Cam is in a fantastic mood.
He’s got plenty of reason to. Graduation had been four days ago, and Cam’s got the diploma and the memory of the Commandant’s firm handshake to prove that he’s sharp enough to be an officer. It hadn’t been easy, his four years at the Academy, but he’s got a degree in Military and Strategic Studies, his Mandarin and Arabic are damn near fluent, and he’s staring his future right in the face. It’s a bright picture, made even brighter by the week of leave he’s halfway through, a week of freedom before he has to report to Vance for more flight training.
Most of the guys Cam had graduated with had gone home before moving on to their various postings. Cam had thought about it, and there’s a part of him that wishes he’d done just that, spent the week with his parents and his brother, soaking up as much family as he could before really getting into his career. This, though, this is something that’s been burning inside him for a while now, this need to get out and get away and go unnoticed for a time. He’s accomplished a lot, sure - he’s a freshly-minted second lieutenant in the United States Air Force, and he’s going to get the chance to serve his country like he’s dreamed about since childhood, but there’s a part of him that the military doesn’t accept. Cam knows what he’s giving up, and he’s made his peace with it, but he’s a thousand miles from anyone who might recognize him and feels like he’s earned a reprieve.
Cam leans back in his chair and smiles easily as he glances around the bar. It’s dimly lit without being too dark, and it’s not overly crowded. He’s in a college town, or close to one - Stanford isn’t too far off, but it’s not near enough that undergrads are going to wander in without knowing the type of establishment they’re entering. In short, it’s exactly what Cam is looking for tonight, somewhere that he can have a little bit of fun before he puts his nose to the grindstone and takes to the air.
There’s a guy at the bar that keeps drawing Cam’s eye. He’s about Cam’s age, maybe a little younger, and he’s drinking steadily if not quickly. He’s also stunningly attractive, dressed in clothes that fit him like they were made for him, his hair sticking up in a way that makes him look like he’s just rolled out of bed. After a very good night, Cam’s mind supplies, and he knows he’s smirking in the guy’s general direction, but hey, looking is free. It might even be appreciated.
It’s about an hour and most of two beers later before Cam stands from his chair and makes his way to the bar. He slides in next to the guy and nods to the bartender, who trades Cam’s empty for a fresh bottle. “Quiet tonight,” Cam comments, taking a swig and leaning into the bar a little.
“Sure,” the guy answers after a moment, as if he’s surprised Cam’s talking to him. “If you say so.”
Cam gestures around them. “I’m just reporting on our surroundings, is all. Cam. Nice to meet you.”
“John,” they guy replies, eyes flicking longingly to the beer bottle in his hand. It’s no longer sweating onto the bar, which means it’s either empty or too warm to be any good, so Cam nods at the bartender again. It’s only a moment before there’s a fresh beer plunked in front of John, who looks up at Cam with a flash of surprise. “Um. Thanks.”
“No problem,” Cam replies easily, taking another sip from his bottle. They sit in silence as John takes a long pull. “So what are you trying to forget?”
John flinches, but Cam waits him out. He figures John will either tell him to fuck off or tell him what’s going on; either way, Cam will have a clearer idea of where he stands. It’s a long minute before John sighs and drops his shoulders.
“I had a rough semester,” he replies. “Calling it rough is an understatement, actually. I had an absolutely shitty semester, and I’m trying to drown myself in alcohol instead of facing my grades.”
“I think you’d be better off with something a little stronger, with how slowly you’re going,” Cam says mildly. “What are you studying?”
“Math honors major, aero/astro minor,” John says, sipping at his beer again. “You?”
Cam shakes his head. “I just graduated. Military studies and foreign languages.”
John shoots him a sideways glance. “You’re not from Stanford.”
“Air Force Academy,” Cam says, and he can’t keep the note of pride from his voice, nor the instinctive straightening of his spine. “I’m just on a bit of leave before I report to flight school.”
“Congratulations, man,” John says, his face breaking into an honest-to-God smile. “I always thought I’d fly, one way or the other. It seems like I’ll be building the planes instead of going up in them, though.”
Cam shrugs. “Enlist.”
John laughs a little. “I’m not exactly the type who would fit in well with the military.” He gestures to himself. “I’d do better as a civilian contractor.”
Aero/astro, he’d said. Cam figures that that might be John’s goal anyway. “So classes sucked this term?” he asks sympathetically. With a program like the one John is in, it’s not a surprising thought.
John scowls and shakes his head, though. “I lost my funding,” he says, voice clipped. “The program is challenging but not overly so on its own. Add in a full-time job and a girlfriend who can’t understand why you suddenly aren’t going out as much, though, and it adds up fast.”
“Sucks, man,” Cam says, clinking his bottle against John’s. “That had to be hard enough without your girl adding to it.”
“Yeah,” John responds, “well, she won’t be worrying about it any more.”
Cam shakes his head. “Is that why you’re here?”
“Because Maureen left me? Partially,” John agrees. He raises his bottle to his lips before adding, “I really just came out to get smashed and feel sorry for myself for a little while, you know?”
“I get that,” Cam agrees. “Still, man, going to a gay bar as a rebound after your girlfriend dumps you takes balls.”
John had just raised his bottle to his lips, but he chokes and splutters at Cam’s words, his face going red all the way up into his hair. “I’m sorry,” he coughs as Cam reaches down behind the bar and grabs a pile of napkins to sop up the mess. “What?”
Cam feels the grin tugging at his mouth and thinks about his decision to come to this particular bar, how he’d figured nobody would not know where they were going. Apparently he’d been mistaken. “You seriously didn’t know?”
“It just looked like a place where I wasn’t going to get mobbed by drunk college kids celebrating summer break,” John defends, somehow going even redder as Cam tosses the soggy napkins towards a garbage bin behind the bar. “I didn’t realize-”
Cam leans back. “Is that a problem?”
“No!” John exclaims, flinging a hand out. He smacks into his beer and grabs for it wildly, but he ends up knocking Cam’s over with his own. He sits very, very still, as if doing so for long enough might actually make him disappear. Cam shakes his head with a grin after a minute, leaning over the bar to pick up more napkins. He quickly mopped up the beer from the counter.
“Sorry, sorry,” John babbles, resting his head in his hands briefly. “I’ll buy two rounds to make up for it.”
“You’re not leaving?” Cam’s a little surprised. Most guys who hadn’t meant to come in would have made a beeline for the door upon finding out what kind of bar they had inadvertently chosen.
“I’ve already made a fool of myself here,” John mutters, signaling to the bartender, who delivers their new beers with a grin. “I might as well stay. It might prevent me from embarrassing myself in front of any more strangers today.”
“Hey, the night is young,” Cam grins, clinking his beer against John’s. “To not caring.”
“Amen,” John agrees, and they drink.
-0-
“You didn’t know?” McKay exclaims. “Seriously, Sheppard, and I thought you were a smart guy!”
John glares. “It was very inconspicuous!”
“Incon- that’s the best you can come up with? Seriously?” McKay snorts. “Unbelievable.”
“In his defense,” Cam cuts in, “it’s not like it was labeled. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, it honestly did just look like a bar.”
“You managed to find it,” McKay snipes.
“Yes,” Cam says mildly. “That’s probably because I knew what I was looking for.”
“If I may,” Teyla interjects. Cam turns to face her, taking in her slightly confused expression. “This bar was meant for men to find relationships with other men?”
“Pretty much,” Cam confirms.
“Is this not allowed in other bars?”
Cam sighs. “Yes and no.”
“In other bars, a guy hitting on another guy isn’t always going to be welcome,” John tries to explain. “Our country can be a little - behind. In a bar like that, though, everyone knows what’s going on, and attention like that isn’t a problem.” He laughs a little. “Well, that’s the idea, anyway.”
“And you just walked in,” Ronon grins. “Typical.”
“How is that typical?” John splutters as everyone laughs. John leans forward, planting his hands on the rock beneath him. “It’s not like I’ve done it more than once!”
“You not noticing things going on around you is typical,” Ronon replies, still smiling. “I trust you with my life in combat, Sheppard, but when it comes to personal matters, you’re kind of hopeless.”
“I’m not hopeless,” John mutters, but he’s got his arms crossed over his chest and Cam can see the corners of his mouth twitching with the need to smile.
“Right,” Ronon says flatly, and everyone bursts into laughter again, John included.
“Anyway,” John continues, “we drank for a while and then Cam called us each a cab. We parted ways. He went off to flight school, and I went back to Stanford and managed to bring my grades up enough in the summer term to get a scholarship, so I graduated on time. I was sitting around after the ceremony thinking about what I could do, and I think hey, flying, that’s always sounded cool. I went by the recruitment office the next day, signed my papers, and found myself in the Air Force.”
“I was his theory instructor in flight school,” Cam takes over. “Imagine the looks on both of our faces when he walks in and sits down on the first day.”
“It was weird,” John confirms. “I wasn’t sure if I should bring it up, or if we were going to just ignore the fact that we had met before.”
“So after class, I called him up front as everyone was leaving and asked him if he wanted to go find a beer,” Cam grins. “Said it was my turn to buy a round.”
“The rest is history,” John finishes. “So now you know.”
“And knowing is half the battle,” Cam agrees solemnly. There’s a half beat of silence, and then both Cam and John snort.
“What, what’s the laugh?” McKay demands. “There’s more to the story, isn’t there? What aren’t you telling us?”
“The other half is missiles,” John supplies, which doesn’t explain anything, as Cam is well aware. He snickers again, though, because it’s been funny since they came up with it, halfway to drunk and watching reruns at three in the morning with G. I. Joe shooting wildly inaccurate guns and flying craft that would never lift off the ground outside of a cartoon. It’s another one of those things, Cam thinks, that marks how long they’ve been friends, the easy way they reference things that they started talking about two decades ago without missing a beat. John is grinning widely at McKay, whose face is twisted into something that’s half-frown and half-amusement.
“I don’t want to know, do I,” he remarks. It’s not even a question, not really.
“We can move,” Ronon says suddenly, just as John is opening his mouth. Cam wonders if he was going to agree with McKay or bait him further - knowing John, it was probably a comment designed to do both.
“Let’s get going, then,” John says, and Cam knows he’s not going to be able to get up on his own, but it won’t stop John from trying. Cam sighs as he bends to help John stand - better to assist him now than scrape him up when he falls in a few minutes. He’ll insist on going either way, and at least with some help now he’ll be able to bear part of his own weight on the trek back to the Gate.
“Let’s get going,” Cam agrees, and they make their way out into the night.
Author: somehowunbroken
Fandom: SGA
Characters: John and Cam, AR-1
Word Count: 3,022
Rating: PG-13
Notes: For susnn , who bought me in the help_japan auction and asked for John and Cam, gen, background. Thanks for being so patient!
Summary: They met twenty years ago, under slightly hilarious circumstances.
“Ow,” John complains, glaring at Cam, who smiles cheerily in return.
“If you’re glaring that hard, it can’t hurt too much,” Cam points out, taping the bandage more firmly in place. “And it would hurt less if you’d stop moving around so much, Sheppard.”
“It would hurt less if you stopped touching it, Mitchell,” John says through his teeth, and Cam feels bad about it for a moment. John had caught a bullet in his thigh as they’d been running away from the latest “friendly” natives, on a planet that John had assured him would be great for a quick look at Pegasus. It had gone great until the guns had come out. John had turned to provide cover fire for McKay, who had tripped in the thick brush, and his thanks had been a fairly ugly wound.
“You’ll be fine,” Cam says, mostly because John’s got that slightly haunted look that he gets when things get a little too close for comfort, and if there’s one thing that Cam has learned about his friend in the years since they’ve met, it’s that the quickest way to wipe that look from John’s face is to make him feel like you’re coddling him in some way.
Sure enough, John bristles and scowls. “Of course I will. We’ll just wait here for nightfall, and then we’ll sneak back to the Gate and get home. Piece of cake.”
“Piece of insanity,” McKay rebuts from the other side of the cave. His ankle is wrapped in something that isn’t quite an Ace bandage, but looks to be holding all the same. Teyla is sitting nearby, narrowing her eyes as McKay moves around like he’s trying to get up. “I mean, okay, Sheppard, I understand that you think you’re some kind of superhero, and God knows I’ve seen you pull off enough stunts that I might actually be starting to believe it.” He tilts his head. “You’re not the only one with an injury, though. I very much doubt I’ll be doing a lot of sneaking around until this heals up.”
“It’ll be fine in a few hours,” Ronon says from the cave’s entrance. “By the time night falls, you’ll be ready to run again.”
“I doubt it,” McKay sniffs, glaring at Ronon’s back. Cam has the distinct feeling that Ronon knows that McKay is glaring and is ignoring him as a form of baiting. Miraculously, though, McKay just sniffs again and slumps back into the rock beneath him. “I’ll probably need crutches.”
“Rodney, I do not think that your injury is that grave,” Teyla says evenly, but the exchange has brought a small smile to John’s face. Good. The pain can’t be too bad, then, and John doesn’t seem to be going into shock.
“This Hey, do you remember the time Connors messed his knee up?” John asks. Cam can’t hold back the snort of laughter as the memory makes him grin.
“I’m pretty sure that even McKay can’t whine as much as Connors did,” Cam counters. “Nine hours to hike out of the jungle and he didn’t stop moaning about how much it hurt, how he hoped he’d be able to come back to active duty after the multiple surgeries he was so sure he’d need-”
“-and the doc took one look at him, popped the joint back in the right way, and gave him an Advil,” John finishes, laughing. “Yeah, Rodney, you sound like a real trooper after that guy.”
McKay switches his glare from the back of Ronon’s head to John’s face. “Very funny, Sheppard.”
“It really is,” John agrees, still smiling. “At least you’re not sitting here talking about how you’re pretty sure it’s going to fall off before we get you back to the base.”
Cam snorts again as Teyla smiles. “You have known each other for a long time,” she observes.
“Yeah,” Cam agrees. “It’s been quite a while.”
“How did you meet?”
John groans as Cam laughs long and loud. “Please don’t,” he almost begs. “There’s no reason to tell them, Mitchell. We met while I was in college,” he says to Teyla. “It was about twenty years ago.”
Ronon settles himself so he can glance over at the rest of the group while still keeping an eye on the mouth of the cave. “Sounds like there’s more to that story,” he says with a smirk that rivals John’s usual one. “I’m interested.”
“Oh, yeah,” McKay says, leaning forward with an attentive look on his face. He seems to have forgotten all about his injury. “This I have to hear. Cough it up, Mitchell. What sort of embarrassing thing did Sheppard do when you met?”
“Nothing,” Cam grins, and John lets out a tiny sigh of relief. “It wasn’t any one thing he did, really. It was a few smaller things combined that really did it.”
John groans again and buries his face in his hands as Cam smiles more widely and settles in to face the rest of the group. “So I was twenty-one years old…”
-0-
Cam is in a fantastic mood.
He’s got plenty of reason to. Graduation had been four days ago, and Cam’s got the diploma and the memory of the Commandant’s firm handshake to prove that he’s sharp enough to be an officer. It hadn’t been easy, his four years at the Academy, but he’s got a degree in Military and Strategic Studies, his Mandarin and Arabic are damn near fluent, and he’s staring his future right in the face. It’s a bright picture, made even brighter by the week of leave he’s halfway through, a week of freedom before he has to report to Vance for more flight training.
Most of the guys Cam had graduated with had gone home before moving on to their various postings. Cam had thought about it, and there’s a part of him that wishes he’d done just that, spent the week with his parents and his brother, soaking up as much family as he could before really getting into his career. This, though, this is something that’s been burning inside him for a while now, this need to get out and get away and go unnoticed for a time. He’s accomplished a lot, sure - he’s a freshly-minted second lieutenant in the United States Air Force, and he’s going to get the chance to serve his country like he’s dreamed about since childhood, but there’s a part of him that the military doesn’t accept. Cam knows what he’s giving up, and he’s made his peace with it, but he’s a thousand miles from anyone who might recognize him and feels like he’s earned a reprieve.
Cam leans back in his chair and smiles easily as he glances around the bar. It’s dimly lit without being too dark, and it’s not overly crowded. He’s in a college town, or close to one - Stanford isn’t too far off, but it’s not near enough that undergrads are going to wander in without knowing the type of establishment they’re entering. In short, it’s exactly what Cam is looking for tonight, somewhere that he can have a little bit of fun before he puts his nose to the grindstone and takes to the air.
There’s a guy at the bar that keeps drawing Cam’s eye. He’s about Cam’s age, maybe a little younger, and he’s drinking steadily if not quickly. He’s also stunningly attractive, dressed in clothes that fit him like they were made for him, his hair sticking up in a way that makes him look like he’s just rolled out of bed. After a very good night, Cam’s mind supplies, and he knows he’s smirking in the guy’s general direction, but hey, looking is free. It might even be appreciated.
It’s about an hour and most of two beers later before Cam stands from his chair and makes his way to the bar. He slides in next to the guy and nods to the bartender, who trades Cam’s empty for a fresh bottle. “Quiet tonight,” Cam comments, taking a swig and leaning into the bar a little.
“Sure,” the guy answers after a moment, as if he’s surprised Cam’s talking to him. “If you say so.”
Cam gestures around them. “I’m just reporting on our surroundings, is all. Cam. Nice to meet you.”
“John,” they guy replies, eyes flicking longingly to the beer bottle in his hand. It’s no longer sweating onto the bar, which means it’s either empty or too warm to be any good, so Cam nods at the bartender again. It’s only a moment before there’s a fresh beer plunked in front of John, who looks up at Cam with a flash of surprise. “Um. Thanks.”
“No problem,” Cam replies easily, taking another sip from his bottle. They sit in silence as John takes a long pull. “So what are you trying to forget?”
John flinches, but Cam waits him out. He figures John will either tell him to fuck off or tell him what’s going on; either way, Cam will have a clearer idea of where he stands. It’s a long minute before John sighs and drops his shoulders.
“I had a rough semester,” he replies. “Calling it rough is an understatement, actually. I had an absolutely shitty semester, and I’m trying to drown myself in alcohol instead of facing my grades.”
“I think you’d be better off with something a little stronger, with how slowly you’re going,” Cam says mildly. “What are you studying?”
“Math honors major, aero/astro minor,” John says, sipping at his beer again. “You?”
Cam shakes his head. “I just graduated. Military studies and foreign languages.”
John shoots him a sideways glance. “You’re not from Stanford.”
“Air Force Academy,” Cam says, and he can’t keep the note of pride from his voice, nor the instinctive straightening of his spine. “I’m just on a bit of leave before I report to flight school.”
“Congratulations, man,” John says, his face breaking into an honest-to-God smile. “I always thought I’d fly, one way or the other. It seems like I’ll be building the planes instead of going up in them, though.”
Cam shrugs. “Enlist.”
John laughs a little. “I’m not exactly the type who would fit in well with the military.” He gestures to himself. “I’d do better as a civilian contractor.”
Aero/astro, he’d said. Cam figures that that might be John’s goal anyway. “So classes sucked this term?” he asks sympathetically. With a program like the one John is in, it’s not a surprising thought.
John scowls and shakes his head, though. “I lost my funding,” he says, voice clipped. “The program is challenging but not overly so on its own. Add in a full-time job and a girlfriend who can’t understand why you suddenly aren’t going out as much, though, and it adds up fast.”
“Sucks, man,” Cam says, clinking his bottle against John’s. “That had to be hard enough without your girl adding to it.”
“Yeah,” John responds, “well, she won’t be worrying about it any more.”
Cam shakes his head. “Is that why you’re here?”
“Because Maureen left me? Partially,” John agrees. He raises his bottle to his lips before adding, “I really just came out to get smashed and feel sorry for myself for a little while, you know?”
“I get that,” Cam agrees. “Still, man, going to a gay bar as a rebound after your girlfriend dumps you takes balls.”
John had just raised his bottle to his lips, but he chokes and splutters at Cam’s words, his face going red all the way up into his hair. “I’m sorry,” he coughs as Cam reaches down behind the bar and grabs a pile of napkins to sop up the mess. “What?”
Cam feels the grin tugging at his mouth and thinks about his decision to come to this particular bar, how he’d figured nobody would not know where they were going. Apparently he’d been mistaken. “You seriously didn’t know?”
“It just looked like a place where I wasn’t going to get mobbed by drunk college kids celebrating summer break,” John defends, somehow going even redder as Cam tosses the soggy napkins towards a garbage bin behind the bar. “I didn’t realize-”
Cam leans back. “Is that a problem?”
“No!” John exclaims, flinging a hand out. He smacks into his beer and grabs for it wildly, but he ends up knocking Cam’s over with his own. He sits very, very still, as if doing so for long enough might actually make him disappear. Cam shakes his head with a grin after a minute, leaning over the bar to pick up more napkins. He quickly mopped up the beer from the counter.
“Sorry, sorry,” John babbles, resting his head in his hands briefly. “I’ll buy two rounds to make up for it.”
“You’re not leaving?” Cam’s a little surprised. Most guys who hadn’t meant to come in would have made a beeline for the door upon finding out what kind of bar they had inadvertently chosen.
“I’ve already made a fool of myself here,” John mutters, signaling to the bartender, who delivers their new beers with a grin. “I might as well stay. It might prevent me from embarrassing myself in front of any more strangers today.”
“Hey, the night is young,” Cam grins, clinking his beer against John’s. “To not caring.”
“Amen,” John agrees, and they drink.
-0-
“You didn’t know?” McKay exclaims. “Seriously, Sheppard, and I thought you were a smart guy!”
John glares. “It was very inconspicuous!”
“Incon- that’s the best you can come up with? Seriously?” McKay snorts. “Unbelievable.”
“In his defense,” Cam cuts in, “it’s not like it was labeled. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, it honestly did just look like a bar.”
“You managed to find it,” McKay snipes.
“Yes,” Cam says mildly. “That’s probably because I knew what I was looking for.”
“If I may,” Teyla interjects. Cam turns to face her, taking in her slightly confused expression. “This bar was meant for men to find relationships with other men?”
“Pretty much,” Cam confirms.
“Is this not allowed in other bars?”
Cam sighs. “Yes and no.”
“In other bars, a guy hitting on another guy isn’t always going to be welcome,” John tries to explain. “Our country can be a little - behind. In a bar like that, though, everyone knows what’s going on, and attention like that isn’t a problem.” He laughs a little. “Well, that’s the idea, anyway.”
“And you just walked in,” Ronon grins. “Typical.”
“How is that typical?” John splutters as everyone laughs. John leans forward, planting his hands on the rock beneath him. “It’s not like I’ve done it more than once!”
“You not noticing things going on around you is typical,” Ronon replies, still smiling. “I trust you with my life in combat, Sheppard, but when it comes to personal matters, you’re kind of hopeless.”
“I’m not hopeless,” John mutters, but he’s got his arms crossed over his chest and Cam can see the corners of his mouth twitching with the need to smile.
“Right,” Ronon says flatly, and everyone bursts into laughter again, John included.
“Anyway,” John continues, “we drank for a while and then Cam called us each a cab. We parted ways. He went off to flight school, and I went back to Stanford and managed to bring my grades up enough in the summer term to get a scholarship, so I graduated on time. I was sitting around after the ceremony thinking about what I could do, and I think hey, flying, that’s always sounded cool. I went by the recruitment office the next day, signed my papers, and found myself in the Air Force.”
“I was his theory instructor in flight school,” Cam takes over. “Imagine the looks on both of our faces when he walks in and sits down on the first day.”
“It was weird,” John confirms. “I wasn’t sure if I should bring it up, or if we were going to just ignore the fact that we had met before.”
“So after class, I called him up front as everyone was leaving and asked him if he wanted to go find a beer,” Cam grins. “Said it was my turn to buy a round.”
“The rest is history,” John finishes. “So now you know.”
“And knowing is half the battle,” Cam agrees solemnly. There’s a half beat of silence, and then both Cam and John snort.
“What, what’s the laugh?” McKay demands. “There’s more to the story, isn’t there? What aren’t you telling us?”
“The other half is missiles,” John supplies, which doesn’t explain anything, as Cam is well aware. He snickers again, though, because it’s been funny since they came up with it, halfway to drunk and watching reruns at three in the morning with G. I. Joe shooting wildly inaccurate guns and flying craft that would never lift off the ground outside of a cartoon. It’s another one of those things, Cam thinks, that marks how long they’ve been friends, the easy way they reference things that they started talking about two decades ago without missing a beat. John is grinning widely at McKay, whose face is twisted into something that’s half-frown and half-amusement.
“I don’t want to know, do I,” he remarks. It’s not even a question, not really.
“We can move,” Ronon says suddenly, just as John is opening his mouth. Cam wonders if he was going to agree with McKay or bait him further - knowing John, it was probably a comment designed to do both.
“Let’s get going, then,” John says, and Cam knows he’s not going to be able to get up on his own, but it won’t stop John from trying. Cam sighs as he bends to help John stand - better to assist him now than scrape him up when he falls in a few minutes. He’ll insist on going either way, and at least with some help now he’ll be able to bear part of his own weight on the trek back to the Gate.
“Let’s get going,” Cam agrees, and they make their way out into the night.