This is sort of from the kids'verse.somehowunbrokenSeptember 7 2010, 02:20:51 UTC
“Does he know?”
Cam jumped at the voice and grabbed for his keyboard, trying to nonchalantly act as if he hadn’t been staring at his screen without doing anything for the past ten minutes or so.
“Sam,” he breathed once he got his heartbeat back under control. “You startled me.”
“Sorry,” she smiled, completely unapologetic as she slid into the seat in Cam’s office. “Does he?”
Cam’s heart rate picked back up as he glanced at Sam, at his computer screen, and back at Sam. She was giving him that impossibly blue-eyed stare, the one that made him feel like he was six years old again and being asked who’d taken the nickel out of the church plate. He tried to cover anyway, leaning back in a mockery of nonchalance. “Does who know what?”
Sam rolled her eyes and gestured to the back of his monitor. “I know what you’re doing, Cam. Or, should I say, what you’ve been trying to do for the last hour or so.”
Cam blinked. “It’s been an hour?” He knew he was caught as soon as he said it; Sam’s smile widened, and she leaned back in her own chair, preening like a cat. Cam sighed in defeat. “No.”
“Cam,” and now her voice was the epitome of caring, the voice of a friend who knows better than you do. “Write the email. Send it.”
“I can’t.” He closed his eyes and rubbed at them, shoulders dropping. “I’ve been sitting here for God-knows-how-long, and I just don’t know how to say it.”
Sam’s voice was teasing now. “It’s three words, Cam. I think you probably know which ones they are.”
Cam half-smiled, the corners of his mouth tilting up. “I’ve never said them, though,” he admitted, and Sam tilted her head, surprised. “To my momma and daddy, sure. But never to someone who - meant something to me.”
Sam smiled at him sympathetically and reached across the desk to squeeze his hand as she stood. “Say it some other way, then,” she suggested. “The two of you - you’re funny, you’re smart, you’re clearly over the moon about each other, for all that the rest of us don’t get it.” She rolled her eyes. “Find something to say and say it. I’ll stall General Landry for you, but I can probably only buy you half an hour, tops.”
“Thanks,” he said as she left, returning to his task of staring at the screen and not writing.
He started something, erased it, wrote it again, deleted it again. Finally, with four minutes to spare, Cam dashed out the truest thing he could think of, checked it through to make sure he hadn’t mistyped anything, and hit send. He watched as the email sat in his outbox for another two minutes, and then, with a cheery little sound, it was gone.
From: cam.mitchell@sgc.af.mil To: john.sheppard@sgc.af.mil Subject: Your weekly status report from the Milky Way
I’m hoping that none of this is a surprise to you by this point, but I figured I should let you know that I think you’re absolutely amazing, incredibly hot, and I’m stupid in love with you.
Also, they officially repealed DADT as of yesterday, so stop hyperventilating. Neither of us is about to lose our job.
There’s other news but none of it’s important. Come Earthside after the New Year. I’ll tell you then.
Cam
The next databurst was, as usual, two weeks form that date, and Cam found himself once again not doing anything important as he waited for the dial-in. He heard the klaxons start and tried not to drum his fingers on his desk. His inbox filled up, mostly with mission reports, but right there, the last thing tacked on (timestamped three minutes ago, in fact) was a reply.
From: john.sheppard@sgc.af.mil To: cam.mitchell@sgc.af.mil Subject: news from pegasus
same here. always.
i’ll be home on the third. and now we don’t have to make excuses for why i never get a hotel room.
john
Cam’s smile stayed with him for the rest of the day.
Cam jumped at the voice and grabbed for his keyboard, trying to nonchalantly act as if he hadn’t been staring at his screen without doing anything for the past ten minutes or so.
“Sam,” he breathed once he got his heartbeat back under control. “You startled me.”
“Sorry,” she smiled, completely unapologetic as she slid into the seat in Cam’s office. “Does he?”
Cam’s heart rate picked back up as he glanced at Sam, at his computer screen, and back at Sam. She was giving him that impossibly blue-eyed stare, the one that made him feel like he was six years old again and being asked who’d taken the nickel out of the church plate. He tried to cover anyway, leaning back in a mockery of nonchalance. “Does who know what?”
Sam rolled her eyes and gestured to the back of his monitor. “I know what you’re doing, Cam. Or, should I say, what you’ve been trying to do for the last hour or so.”
Cam blinked. “It’s been an hour?” He knew he was caught as soon as he said it; Sam’s smile widened, and she leaned back in her own chair, preening like a cat. Cam sighed in defeat. “No.”
“Cam,” and now her voice was the epitome of caring, the voice of a friend who knows better than you do. “Write the email. Send it.”
“I can’t.” He closed his eyes and rubbed at them, shoulders dropping. “I’ve been sitting here for God-knows-how-long, and I just don’t know how to say it.”
Sam’s voice was teasing now. “It’s three words, Cam. I think you probably know which ones they are.”
Cam half-smiled, the corners of his mouth tilting up. “I’ve never said them, though,” he admitted, and Sam tilted her head, surprised. “To my momma and daddy, sure. But never to someone who - meant something to me.”
Sam smiled at him sympathetically and reached across the desk to squeeze his hand as she stood. “Say it some other way, then,” she suggested. “The two of you - you’re funny, you’re smart, you’re clearly over the moon about each other, for all that the rest of us don’t get it.” She rolled her eyes. “Find something to say and say it. I’ll stall General Landry for you, but I can probably only buy you half an hour, tops.”
“Thanks,” he said as she left, returning to his task of staring at the screen and not writing.
He started something, erased it, wrote it again, deleted it again. Finally, with four minutes to spare, Cam dashed out the truest thing he could think of, checked it through to make sure he hadn’t mistyped anything, and hit send. He watched as the email sat in his outbox for another two minutes, and then, with a cheery little sound, it was gone.
From: cam.mitchell@sgc.af.mil
To: john.sheppard@sgc.af.mil
Subject: Your weekly status report from the Milky Way
I’m hoping that none of this is a surprise to you by this point, but I figured I should let you know that I think you’re absolutely amazing, incredibly hot, and I’m stupid in love with you.
Also, they officially repealed DADT as of yesterday, so stop hyperventilating. Neither of us is about to lose our job.
There’s other news but none of it’s important. Come Earthside after the New Year. I’ll tell you then.
Cam
The next databurst was, as usual, two weeks form that date, and Cam found himself once again not doing anything important as he waited for the dial-in. He heard the klaxons start and tried not to drum his fingers on his desk. His inbox filled up, mostly with mission reports, but right there, the last thing tacked on (timestamped three minutes ago, in fact) was a reply.
From: john.sheppard@sgc.af.mil
To: cam.mitchell@sgc.af.mil
Subject: news from pegasus
same here. always.
i’ll be home on the third. and now we don’t have to make excuses for why i never get a hotel room.
john
Cam’s smile stayed with him for the rest of the day.
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Lovely ficlet. Really hit the spot!
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