Comment fic = awesome.
So, um. I might be addicted to comment_fic. I blame camshaft22 (look, clwilson2006, Rule One doesn't apply!) but in that way that sort of means thank you.
I've written a bunch of it this weekend. Like 5,727 words of it. I'm going to say the highest one is rated R. So here it is, all in one go for you...
Scars: John Sheppard/John Crichton, author's choice
The man looks like Cameron, sounds like Cam, but he can't be Cam, can't be because Cam's been dead and gone for years and John still has the scars to prove it. His fingers run absently down the twisted line on his forearm as he studies Not-Cam.
"Where the frell am I?" Not-Cam asks, and the hard line of his jaw, the glint in his eyes, the way his fingers grasp reflexively at his gun, it's all Cam at his most military, and John can't help taking a step forward.
"I'm Sheppard," he says, and Not-Cam's eyes swivel to him, focus, and widen in surprise. His hand falls away from his gun, and he takes the same sort involuntary half-step towards John.
"Brendan?" Not-Cam asks, and his voice has lost the hard edge completely. He sounds like John feels, like he's seeing a ghost and wondering if he should laugh or cry.
"Only if you're Cameron," John answers, and he sees the other man's shoulders slump the exact moment his own do.
"Crichton," Not-Cam says a moment later. "John. Human."
"Well, yeah," John drawls, spreading his arms. "Sheppard, also John, also human. So's he," he says, pointing to Ronon, "and so's she," and Teyla nods her head.
Crichton stares. "You're - not Sebacean."
"I don't even know what that is," John tells him, and when Crichton smiles, John feels his gut twist because it's Cam's smile beaming out of Cam's face with a stranger's mind inside.
"Is this Earth?"
"No," John tells him. "You're in the Pegasus galaxy. We're close enough, though."
And then Crichton's talking about IASA and his father and a woman - Erin, John thinks? - and John can begin to see the differences, how Crichton waves his hands around when he talks and how his drawl isn't quite Cam's and how the scar on the back of Cam's left hand is absent, and he tells himself not to break again, because Cam's been dead and gone for years, and he's still got those scars to prove it.
Found: Cameron Mitchell/John Sheppard - We all wear masks
John never sees it coming, and yeah, everyone makes fun of him for it, but it's the truth. Every time women fling themselves at his feet he trips over them, and he has to give them the flattered-but-I-can't talk that he's almost got down pat by now. It's easy enough: a charming smile, dropping his eyes, looking off into the distance, and they all draw their own conclusions and that way he doesn't have to lie, not really.
He doesn't have a preplanned response to this situation, though, because he's never in his wildest dreams pictured Cameron Mitchell, Golden Boy and Down Home Hero, to be smiling at him like that, like he wants to do things with John that would make his mother gasp. What's maybe worse is that he doesn't want to brush Cam off, doesn't want to feed him the thanks-but-no-thanks line. No, he wants to lean in and push his mouth right against the other man's, pull their bodies flush together, find out what else Cam's got to go with that smirk.
"I never see this coming," he says at some point later, in the lazy laying-around-after-sex portion of the night.
Cam's quiet beside him for a few long moments before replying. "It's hard to see, sometimes."
Giddy: John/Cam, happy
She feels sadness, because she is leaving her home again. And just when she'd gotten the chance to get herself used to her new accomodations, as well.
There is a lightness in Him, though, one she has never felt before, and she does not understand, because the battle rages on. Terra is in danger, and she is its only hope, but it will take a miracle for this to work.
Or the Second, she later thinks, because the Second put his hands on her and his cold tools as well and she cries when he bends her, but when he leans back, she feels what she can do, and so she does.
She feels His lightness again, stronger this time, when she settles as gracefully as she can manage in the waters of Terra. He feels - giddy, she identifies, and she almost fears for Him, because the last time one of her own had been so light, the Pretender had brought his sickness into her walls and poisoned their minds.
But no, she soon realises, there is no sickness in Him. No, He is simply happy, giddy, and she knows why as soon as the Other steps within her borders. Their blood sings through their veins, their minds connect in a way she can see but they cannot, and their hands clasp together briefly before they pull away from each other. The feeling inside Him makes her happy, and everywhere He walks, she brightens.
"Think She likes me?" the Other says, laughing, and He turns and smiles.
"I'm sure She does," He replies, taking the Other's hand again. "She usually likes what I like."
She evaluates the statement, runs it against their history together, and realises the truth in it. She likes what He likes, and as she watches Him with the Other, she knows this is because His choices, the ones that really matter, make Him... giddy.
She finds that she quite likes it.
Ghost: Cameron Mitchell/John Sheppard, Even in Death: Evanscence
There's death, and then there's this, Cam thinks as he looks at his hands, shimmering a little and mostly transparent. He's not alive, but he's pretty sure he's not dead, either. There's really a lot more wiggle room between the two than he'd thought originally.
John, though, John thinks he's dead, and Cam had spent two straight days screaming and begging and swearing and everything, everything he could think to do, but John can't hear him. He's just been going through the motions, moving from task to task with the brisk efficiency that means he's trying too hard to not think, and he hasn't eaten since he got the news, since Cam suddenly found himself here.
The chimes to John's quarters ring, even though it's easily 0300, but John's lights are on and he's sitting on his bed, staring blankly at the wall. Cam's been sitting beside him, wishing he could actually be there, because it looks like John's about to collapse and there's nobody here who can put him back together, not really.
Dr. Keller pokes her head in when John tells Atlantis to open the door, a bottle of pills in hand. She walks forward uncomfortably, twirling the pill bottle around.
"You're not sleeping," she blurts before thrusting the pills at him. "You need to. I'm sorry, Colonel, I know it's terrible to lose someone you-"
John's glare stops her before she can say love, and he can feel the sick relief in the room he's not sure he's even in. "Thanks," he says, putting the bottle on his bedstand. He won't take them.
Keller, though, she just puts her hands on her hips and scowls. "Two," she orders, walking over and shaking them from the bottle. "Now. While I watch."
Ah, Cam realises, she's dealt with John before. It really says a lot about the whole situation that John just nods and swallows he pills.
Keller leaves and John lays down with the lights off, but it still takes a long time for his eyes to close and breathing to even. Cam lays beside him, holding his hand over John's hip and arranging himself as if he could really pres against John's back.
There's got to be something, some way to fix this. He's going to find it, get all the way Ascended or whatever, because then he can Descend and find John and hold him, hold him for real, and everything will be okay again.
Snowed In: Cam/Sheppard, target practice
"That hardly counts."
Cam snorted. "I hit it, fair and square. That's six for me, two for you."
John scowled. "You're cheating."
"How?" Cam countered as John lined up his shot.
"Not sure yet," John replied as he flicked the marshmallow from the table towards the target pinned to the wall. It hit the outer ring and bounced to the floor.
"Little to the left," Cam offered, and John flipped him the finger as he sat back and tossed Cam a marshmallow. It flew straight and true, right to the center of the target, before falling to join the pile accumulating on the floor.
"Being snowed in sucks," John commented as his next shot missed the target entirely. "This game sucks."
Cam very carefully didn't make the obvious joke, but he couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. John grinned right back and stood, grabbing Cam's hand and walking from the kitchen, marshmallow wars already forgotten.
Compromise: John/Cam, sunshine or snow?
John hears the phrase two weeks off and thinks of snow, of skis and boards and mugs of hot chocolate and clothing so insulated it feels like you're in the tropics. Cam hears the same words and thinks of a beach, somewhere with umbrellas and water and pineapples, where the most they'd have to worry about would be suntan lotion and towels.
They talk about it and talk about it, and it doesn't cause a fight, but they both realise that they're going to have to come to some sort of compromise. A week here, a week there, maybe, or somewhere else entirely.
"We could just stay here," Cam suggests that night, when John's flopped across the bed with a lazy smile on his face, naked as the day he was born. Cam's tracing idle patterns into his hip, and John's eyes open.
"Stay here for two weeks," he muses. "We wouldn't even have to leave the apartment."
"We'll just tell them we packed up and went to North Carolina." Cam continues. "But we'll hang around here in our pajamas."
"We sleep naked," John counters, and Cam grins.
"Exactly."
Chase: Cam/John, this is all Vala's fault
"Remind me why this was a good idea," John grunts as he hits the ground, having narrowly avoided an arrow to his left shoulderblade.
"Told you it wasn't, but Vala insisted," Cam points out as he dives after John. He lands next to the other man and rolls off the path, tugging John along with him. They end up out of view, under the brush along the road, John's body atop Cam's. Cam loops his arms around John and pulls him in as close to his body as he can manage while they both hold their breath, listening as the villagers pound down the road and eventually fade into the distance.
"Gonna let go of me?" John drawls, and Cam remembers that he's got one arm tightly wrapped around John's waist and another around his back. He drops his arms quickly as his face flushes.
"Sorry," he mumbles, but John doesn't move. He just smirks, his face inches from Cam's, and leans down slowly enough that Cam has the chance to roll away or shove him back but he doesn't, just waits until John brushes their lips together and pulls his head back.
"Yeah," Cam murmurs, and his hands come back up to rest in the small of John's back as John leans back in and kisses him again, hotter, deeper-
"Cameron!" Vala's voice sounds a little frantic, and Cam can hear footsteps on the path again. "John!"
Cam's head thunks into the ground, and John snickers as he rolls to lay beside Cam. "Vala," he calls, sitting up in the brush. Cam hears the footsteps pause, and then they're crashing through the brush in his and John's direction. Cam sits up next to John just as Vala drops to her knees beside them.
"I'm so sorry," she's babbling, reaching out to pick a stick out of John's hair. "I had no idea they would-"
"No worries," John says smoothly. His hand finds Cam's under the brush, and his fingers drum across Cam's skin. "I've had worse missions."
Cam tries very hard not to blush.
Choice: Cam/John, Catch-22
WARNING: character death.
It's an impossible choice, John thinks: he's got to choose, somehow, between the life of the man he loves more than he ever thought he could and the life of a child, no more than four years old. He can't think of any way to get out of it, and he's stalled for as long as he could, hoping, praying that the rest of their team would be able to track them down, blow the door away, keep John from having to do this.
They've handed John his sidearm and told him to choose who lives and who dies, and the child is shaking in Cam's arms as he leans in and murmurs to her soothingly. He glances over at John, and there's acceptance and understanding in his eyes, and John wants to choke, to scream, to gasp in air, because if he kills the child Cam might never forgive him but if he kills Cam he will never forgive himself.
"Three have entered," the High Priest tells him. "Only two can leave."
"I know," John snaps, and he wants to vomit. He closes his eyes and thinks in circles, round and round and round, and then it clicks, so simple, so elegant.
John opens his eyes and smiles at Cam. "Cover her eyes," he says, and Cam pulls the girl into his chest.
"I love you," Cam says, pure and honest, and he's said it a thousand times but John holds it and clings to it now and nods.
"I know," he replies. "I love you, too."
And for as many times as Cam's said it, John's never been able to force the words out. It's easy now, though, and John sees the realisation flash through Cam's face in an instant.
"John-" he says, reaching out with one hand across the space between them, leaning forward, still clutching the girl to him with his other hand.
"I love you," John repeats, more firmly this time, and he raises the gun in one swift motion and points it at his own head and pulls the trigger.
Pretty: Cam/John, pretty
John makes a pretty woman. He makes a beautiful fucking woman, actually, and Cam's pretty sure his boyfriend becoming his girlfriend isn't supposed to be such a goddamned turn-on, but there it is.
But John's face has rounded a little, his cheekbones are a little more pronounced, his hair's a little softer-looking, wavy, still short but longer. He's still tall and thin, but he has breasts now, proportional to the rest of his body, and legs that won't quit, and Cam hasn't been attracted to a woman in a long time, but he damn well is now.
"Hey," John says, and his - her? No, Cam decides, he can't handle that, his - voice is a little higher but definitely still the same voice. "This has got to be weird for you."
"Weird for me?" Cam can only snort. "Gotta tell you, Sheppard, you're kinda pretty as a woman."
He means it, but it's safe enough to say in the SGC where it could easily be overheard. John hears what he means, though, and smirks and leans back just like he always has, but now that he's a woman it accentuates the line of his back, sticks his chest out a little, shows off his hips. "That so?"
Cam swallows. "Don't let it go to your head."
John's eyes flick to Cam's crotch and back to his face, and his smirk ratchets up a notch. "You, either."
"Fuck you," Cam tosses off, trying to regain control of the situation, but John snickers and Cam can only close his eyes and take a deep breath. When he opens them back up, John's standing closer, leaning over his desk. Cam can see straight down his shirt to where John's breasts sit in a bra.
A black, lacy bra.
Cam has to swallow pretty damn hard when John's smirking face stops mere inches from his own. "Let's go," John says, and Cam stands without thinking and walks to the door, long-ingrained instincts making him hold it for John before following him down the hallway to the elevator.
The doors to the elevator close, and for once, nobody else has climbed in with them. John rests his elbows on the railing in the cab and smirks.
"So," he drawls. "Lee says it'll be a few days before he can switch me back. We're on stand-down til he figures it out."
He leaves the idea hanging, and Cam fills in the rest for himself. Let's go home. Let's lock the door. Let's not leave til we get called to come back.
"A few days?" he says aloud, and John nods. "Sounds good to me."
John's grin is decidedly wicked as the doors open. "Figured it might."
Surprise: Cam/John, "This is my brother, Dave."
"He's going to flip," John mutters as he yanks his tie out of its knot again and reties it for the fifth time. It was fine before, it's fine now, and Cam slaps his hands away when he tries to undo it again.
"Stop stressing," Cam tells him gently, grabbing John's hand and holding it in his own to keep him from fussing with his tie again. John's always looked good in his dress blues, and this time is no exception. Cam thinks it's even better that it's for a good reason: John's finally made full bird colonel.
"He's going to freak out," John continues. "He's only just talking to me again."
"John," Cam says. "We don't have to tell him now."
"No," John replies instantly, and for some reason it calms him. "No. I want to."
"Okay," Cam says, smiling reassuringly. He'd like to tell John that it'll be fine, that Dave won't be as upset as John thinks he will, but Cam thinks about John's father all but disowning him and Dave not talking to him for years and knows that John might not be overreacting.
"Colonels?" Harriman pokes his head into the room. "General O'Neill says, quote, get your asses into gear, unquote." He pushes his glasses up his nose with one finger. "He told me to tell you exactly that."
"Mission accomplished," Cam tells him as he and John stand together. He squeezes John's hand once more before dropping it, and John smiles at him, and then they walk down the hallway and into the room.
The ceremony goes smoothly; it's edited for company, since there are people in the room who have no idea that the Stargate exists, and Cam can't help but feel like John's been cheated, because O'Neill can't say half of what John's done. He gets his new insignia, though, and as Cam pins the bird to John's shoulder, John smiles at him again, and Cam smiles back just because he can.
Later, they're doing the meet-and-greet thing with the politicians and assorted military officials. John looks bored, but Cam's pretty sure nobody can tell that but him. He's looking at John's face when he sees John's expression freeze, and when Cam turns, there's a man standing in front of them.
"John?"
John lets out a breath and sucks another in. "This is my brother, Dave. Dave, Colonel Cameron Mitchell."
"Cam," he says, offering his hand. Dave's grip is firm and efficient, a practised businessman's handshake.
"Congratulations," Dave says to John, who nods. "Full Colonel. I know how terrible it sounds when I say it, John, but I really never thought-"
"Yeah," John cuts him off. "Neither did I."
There's an awkward moment while someone struggles to find something to say. Finally, John takes a breath. "Dave, Cam's - I'm - we're sort of -"
And then he turns and grabs Cam's face in his hands and kisses him. With tongue. Right there, in front of God and everybody and Dave.
There's complete and total silence when John finally pulls back, face flaming red, and he drops his head to Cam's shoulder.
Cam loops his arm firmly around John's waist as he turns to Dave. "Together," he supplies as the end to John's attempt at an explanation.
"So I see," Dave says, and the smirk he flashes for an instant makes him look more related to John. "How long?"
"Fourteen years," Cam replies, and there are murmurs from the rest of the room but Dave's frowning.
"Nancy?" he questions, turning to John, who finally lifts his head, His cheeks have mostly returned to their normal shade.
"She knew," John tells him quietly. "We got married because she was my friend and I needed to not be so..."
"We sort of got caught," Cam tries to explain. "We talked about it, talked to Nancy. She was..."
"Got it," Dave cuts him off, and there's more silence, a lot of it, and Cam's never thought of silence as loud before but it sure is now. Dave finally shakes his head a little and holds his hand out to Cam again.
"Welcome to the family," Dave says, the smile on his face is sincere as he shakes Cam's hand.
John turns, settling against Cam's side comfortably, and the expression on his face is confused and surprised and a little disbelieving. "You're not pissed?"
"You're happy," Dave counters. "Good enough."
Yeah, Cam thinks as he squeezes John's hip lightly in his hand. It really is.
Drapes: John/Cam, "either the drapes go, or I do!"
John hates the fucking drapes.
They're dark blue, which isn't bad at all, but they're made of some really heavy material and there's some sort of other material in them, something fuzzy and in swirls and patterns down the drapes, and he really fucking hates them without quite knowing why.
"Hey," he tries one day, "where'd the drapes come from?"
"Momma sent 'em," Cam replies absently. "Great Gran'ma Edith made them for her and Daddy when they got married."
Fuck. Wedding drapes. It's not like John can tell Cam that his parents' wedding drapes - hell, he realises, their wedding drapes - are terrible.
He hates them, though. He starts avoiding the living room, because when he's in there it's like the light's being sucked out, and the air, and he knows it's patently ridiculous but he spends less time in there anyway.
Cam notices, finally, when preseason starts and John watches the game in their room instead of sitting on the couch with him. He appears in the doorway during the first commercial break. "You okay?"
"Yeah," John says. "Watching the game."
"So'm I," Cam says slowly, jerking his thumb back towards the living room. "In the living room. With the couch and the big television."
"Yeah," John says, and there's a second of weird silence before Cam blurts, "What did I do?"
"What?" John's confused. "I don't know, what did you do?"
"I don't know." Cam looks confused too. "But lately, it's like you don't want to spend time with me outside of work or sex. I don't - I'm not trying to whine about it, John, and I'm not begrudging you some space, but I'd like to apologise for whatever it is I did."
John laughs a little as he walks over to stand next to his partner. "I'm sorry," he apologises instead.
"What?" Cam's confusion is clearly growing, and John grabs his hand and pulls him to the bed and mutes the television.
"I don't want to watch in the living room," John sort-of confesses, but Cam's not getting it, so John sighs and decides that enough's enough. "I hate those fucking drapes, Cam. I don't even know why, but every time I go in there I see them and they choke all the life out of the room and I hate them and stop laughing at me, asshole!"
"You've been avoiding the living room for a month because you don't like the drapes?" Cam sounds way too amused.
John definitely doesn't cross his arms. "Yes."
"We can take them down," Cam tells him, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the effort of not laughing.
"Fine," John snaps, happy enough but still a little irritated about the whole laughing thing.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Cam asks at halftime, when they're curled up in the bed watching the Colts trounce the Jaguars.
"Why didn't I want to tell you that I hate the drapes that your great grandmother made for your parents' wedding? The ones your mother gave to us when we moved in together?" John pretends to think. "Gee, I'm not sure."
"Don't be a dumbass," Cam tells him affectionately. "They're drapes, John. Drapes. We'll take them down tomorrow."
"When the game's over," John mutters.
Cam laughs again. "When the game's over," he agrees.
Have This Dance: Cam/John, ballroom dancing - who leads?
To say that John's surprised when he realises that his partner of twelve years can dance - really dance - is an understatement. It's true, though, because he's out there with Carter, beautiful in her wedding dress, and he's spinning her elegantly around the room. John's known how to dance since childhood, a product of his social upbringing, but his hazy vision of Cam's past includes things like square dancing and hoe downs, not the way his hand curls against Carter's back as he leads almost effortlessly. The dance ends with a dip, low enough to be impressive, and Carter pecks him on the cheek when he pulls her back up. He leads her back to her seat with a flourish, and makes his way back over to John.
"I had no idea you could dance like that," John tells him as he approaches. "You've been holding out on me, Mitchell."
Cam grins and grabs his hand from where it's resting on the table and before John can really form a protest they're on the edge of the dance floor, Cam's hand strong on John's shoulderblade just it had been on Carter's, and John glares as he puts his hand on Cam's deltoid. "Dip me at the end and I'm leaving you," John growls at him, and Cam just laughs as the music starts, a dizzying Viennese waltz, and they're off.
Cam doesn't lead any complicated moves, which is just fine by John, because the Viennese waltz had never been his strong point, and he hasn't done it in years anyway. It's complicated enough to put his feet in the right places at the right time, to remember the rise and fall, to do it backwards because he's the woman here, and he's a little amazed that they make it to the end of the dance without either of them tripping. Cam doesn't dip him, but his eyes crinkle with laughter as the music ends and John knows he's only just resisting the urge.
They break apart and turn to go back to their seats, and only then notice that there's nobody else on the dance floor. John thinks back to the beginning of the dance - there had definitely been a few other couples out there - but no, they're alone now. John feels his face heat.
Someone - probably Vala - wolf-whistles, and someone else - or it might still be Vala - starts clapping, and Cam grins and bows grandly. John rolls his eyes and smacks the back of Cam's head when he stands back up.
"Idiot," he mutters affectionately, and they walk back to their seats as the music starts again, something slow and easy that John identifies as a rumba but refuses to be swayed into. "Where'd you learn to dance like that?"
"Germany," Cam tells him. "Thirteen months at the world's most boring base. Thought I'd go crazy if I didn't find something to do."
"What else don't I know about you?" John asks suspiciously. "Got any other hidden talents I'm going to find out about at some moment I'm going to find potentially embarrassing?"
Cam's smile is bright as he replies. "You're just gonna have to wait and see."
Baby: Cameron Mitchell/Wee-John Sheppard, Cam plays Dad to a deaged Sheppard
Cam's not sure what he's expecting when his doorbell rings, but he's pretty sure it's not General O'Neill in civvies, carrying a baby.
"Here," O'Neill says, holding the infant out to him. Cam takes it automatically, supporting head and neck and back the way he's done with nieces and nephews and cousins for years, and when he looks down, the baby's eyes are open and staring at him and, oh, hell no.
"Tell me this isn't-"
"It is," O'Neill confirms. He hesitates. "Look, for whatever reason, you've got his medical power of attorney. He clearly trusts you, so I figured I'd see if you were willing to keep track of him until McKay figures out which piece of tech did this and finds a way to reverse it."
Cam looks down at the two-month-old version of his husband and sighs. "You are never going to live this down," he tells the baby, before meeting O'Neill's eyes. "You've got nappies and formula?"
O'Neill gives him everything he might need, from crib to nappies to clothing to car seat, and Cam settles in to be the dad he didn't figure he'd ever get the chance to be.
It's hard, Cam thinks two weeks later, to be a dad at all, and being a single dad is even harder. He's got to handle all the feedings and changings by himself, and bathing is an issue he dreads. At least his presence seems to calm the baby, and Cam likes to think that there's some part of who John will be in there somewhere, that he's comforted by being near Cam.
He kind of likes the attention he gets, too, walking through the grocer's or at the bank with baby John, who's been smiling and blowing bubbles in the past few days, and generally being cute as all hell. Women have been cooing over John, which John would get the largest kick out of if he could see, and Cam doesn't mind that people let him skip in line or just treat him more nicely in general. He's glad, though, that he has a ring to wear, the one he usually keeps on his dogtags, because there's attention and then there's attention, and that's something he wouldn't be able to deal with right now.
It's also nice to be able to sit with John, to talk to him so freely. There's a lot of things Cam's wanted to say to John for years now, things he thinks about, things he wishes for both of them. It's something he's going to miss when John's back to himself, being able to hold John close every night and whisper how much Cam loves him without John blushing or things getting awkward. They might be married, but John's never been good with emotions, his own or someone else's.
It's a month before McKay shows up at Cam's apartment with a box. "Where is he?" the man demands loudly. John starts crying in the other room, and Cam gives McKay a weary look.
"I just got him down," he grouses, going to fetch John from the crib. McKay looks at Cam curiously as he enters the room with John tucked into his arm, squirming slightly, sucking on one fist.
"I forgot how little he was," McKay says more quietly. He looks up at Cam. "How - this has to have been weird for you."
"Yeah," Cam says succinctly. It has. There's really not much more that could be added to that; at least, not anything that Cam really wants McKay to know about. "You here for a reason, or..."
"Oh!" McKay blinks and opens the box he's holding, dumping its contents onto the table. It's a small rectangular thing, made of the blue-green stuff that screams Ancient, and Cam knows what it is before McKay says anything.
"You figured it out," Cam breathes, reaching out to grab the box. McKay smacks his hand away with an irritated look on his face.
"If you touch it, you'll be in the same situation that Sheppard's in," he warns. "God knows why, but the Ancients made a device that will turn anyone with the gene into an infant."
"That's really weird," Cam agrees. "Will it turn him back?"
McKay nods. "He just has to touch it."
Cam sits at the table, John tucked into his arm, and uses the cardboard box McKay had transported the device in to scoot the device closer to himself. He considers their positions, that John will soon be his 180-pound self again, and flips the device back into the box before settling on the floor. He looks up at McKay after getting everything into place.
"Um," he says. "Could we have a little privacy?"
McKay's nostrils flare. "I'm his best friend, Colonel," he begins, but Cam cuts him off.
"I'm his husband, and he's about to be naked," Cam says levelly, and McKay's eyes widen and he nods as he leaves the kitchen.
Cam takes a deep breath, uncurls John's tiny fist, and presses it to the device.
There's a second where nothing happens, but as Cam lets go of John's hand, there's a soft popping sound and a flash of light. When it recedes, John's on the floor, the John Cam married, forty-something John, not infant John, and Cam's never been happier to see his husband than he is right now.
"Cam?" John says, hazy and distant, and Cam grabs him by the shoulders and hauls him upright, wrapping his arms around John's frame and hugging him tightly.
"God, John," he breathes. "You're back."
John hugs him back, just as tightly. "Thank you," he says back softly, over and over. "Thank you."
"I love you," Cam says, and he's said it a thousand times that John would remember, plus several times every day for the past month, but he needs John to hear it now.
John tilts his head and smiles crookedly. "I know. You've been saying it a lot lately."
Cam feels his eyes widen. "You heard? You remember?"
John nods and leans in to brush his lips against Cam's. "Thank you," he says again. "And hey. I love you, too."
So yeah, I might need an intervention. Or something.
I've written a bunch of it this weekend. Like 5,727 words of it. I'm going to say the highest one is rated R. So here it is, all in one go for you...
Scars: John Sheppard/John Crichton, author's choice
The man looks like Cameron, sounds like Cam, but he can't be Cam, can't be because Cam's been dead and gone for years and John still has the scars to prove it. His fingers run absently down the twisted line on his forearm as he studies Not-Cam.
"Where the frell am I?" Not-Cam asks, and the hard line of his jaw, the glint in his eyes, the way his fingers grasp reflexively at his gun, it's all Cam at his most military, and John can't help taking a step forward.
"I'm Sheppard," he says, and Not-Cam's eyes swivel to him, focus, and widen in surprise. His hand falls away from his gun, and he takes the same sort involuntary half-step towards John.
"Brendan?" Not-Cam asks, and his voice has lost the hard edge completely. He sounds like John feels, like he's seeing a ghost and wondering if he should laugh or cry.
"Only if you're Cameron," John answers, and he sees the other man's shoulders slump the exact moment his own do.
"Crichton," Not-Cam says a moment later. "John. Human."
"Well, yeah," John drawls, spreading his arms. "Sheppard, also John, also human. So's he," he says, pointing to Ronon, "and so's she," and Teyla nods her head.
Crichton stares. "You're - not Sebacean."
"I don't even know what that is," John tells him, and when Crichton smiles, John feels his gut twist because it's Cam's smile beaming out of Cam's face with a stranger's mind inside.
"Is this Earth?"
"No," John tells him. "You're in the Pegasus galaxy. We're close enough, though."
And then Crichton's talking about IASA and his father and a woman - Erin, John thinks? - and John can begin to see the differences, how Crichton waves his hands around when he talks and how his drawl isn't quite Cam's and how the scar on the back of Cam's left hand is absent, and he tells himself not to break again, because Cam's been dead and gone for years, and he's still got those scars to prove it.
Found: Cameron Mitchell/John Sheppard - We all wear masks
John never sees it coming, and yeah, everyone makes fun of him for it, but it's the truth. Every time women fling themselves at his feet he trips over them, and he has to give them the flattered-but-I-can't talk that he's almost got down pat by now. It's easy enough: a charming smile, dropping his eyes, looking off into the distance, and they all draw their own conclusions and that way he doesn't have to lie, not really.
He doesn't have a preplanned response to this situation, though, because he's never in his wildest dreams pictured Cameron Mitchell, Golden Boy and Down Home Hero, to be smiling at him like that, like he wants to do things with John that would make his mother gasp. What's maybe worse is that he doesn't want to brush Cam off, doesn't want to feed him the thanks-but-no-thanks line. No, he wants to lean in and push his mouth right against the other man's, pull their bodies flush together, find out what else Cam's got to go with that smirk.
"I never see this coming," he says at some point later, in the lazy laying-around-after-sex portion of the night.
Cam's quiet beside him for a few long moments before replying. "It's hard to see, sometimes."
Giddy: John/Cam, happy
She feels sadness, because she is leaving her home again. And just when she'd gotten the chance to get herself used to her new accomodations, as well.
There is a lightness in Him, though, one she has never felt before, and she does not understand, because the battle rages on. Terra is in danger, and she is its only hope, but it will take a miracle for this to work.
Or the Second, she later thinks, because the Second put his hands on her and his cold tools as well and she cries when he bends her, but when he leans back, she feels what she can do, and so she does.
She feels His lightness again, stronger this time, when she settles as gracefully as she can manage in the waters of Terra. He feels - giddy, she identifies, and she almost fears for Him, because the last time one of her own had been so light, the Pretender had brought his sickness into her walls and poisoned their minds.
But no, she soon realises, there is no sickness in Him. No, He is simply happy, giddy, and she knows why as soon as the Other steps within her borders. Their blood sings through their veins, their minds connect in a way she can see but they cannot, and their hands clasp together briefly before they pull away from each other. The feeling inside Him makes her happy, and everywhere He walks, she brightens.
"Think She likes me?" the Other says, laughing, and He turns and smiles.
"I'm sure She does," He replies, taking the Other's hand again. "She usually likes what I like."
She evaluates the statement, runs it against their history together, and realises the truth in it. She likes what He likes, and as she watches Him with the Other, she knows this is because His choices, the ones that really matter, make Him... giddy.
She finds that she quite likes it.
Ghost: Cameron Mitchell/John Sheppard, Even in Death: Evanscence
There's death, and then there's this, Cam thinks as he looks at his hands, shimmering a little and mostly transparent. He's not alive, but he's pretty sure he's not dead, either. There's really a lot more wiggle room between the two than he'd thought originally.
John, though, John thinks he's dead, and Cam had spent two straight days screaming and begging and swearing and everything, everything he could think to do, but John can't hear him. He's just been going through the motions, moving from task to task with the brisk efficiency that means he's trying too hard to not think, and he hasn't eaten since he got the news, since Cam suddenly found himself here.
The chimes to John's quarters ring, even though it's easily 0300, but John's lights are on and he's sitting on his bed, staring blankly at the wall. Cam's been sitting beside him, wishing he could actually be there, because it looks like John's about to collapse and there's nobody here who can put him back together, not really.
Dr. Keller pokes her head in when John tells Atlantis to open the door, a bottle of pills in hand. She walks forward uncomfortably, twirling the pill bottle around.
"You're not sleeping," she blurts before thrusting the pills at him. "You need to. I'm sorry, Colonel, I know it's terrible to lose someone you-"
John's glare stops her before she can say love, and he can feel the sick relief in the room he's not sure he's even in. "Thanks," he says, putting the bottle on his bedstand. He won't take them.
Keller, though, she just puts her hands on her hips and scowls. "Two," she orders, walking over and shaking them from the bottle. "Now. While I watch."
Ah, Cam realises, she's dealt with John before. It really says a lot about the whole situation that John just nods and swallows he pills.
Keller leaves and John lays down with the lights off, but it still takes a long time for his eyes to close and breathing to even. Cam lays beside him, holding his hand over John's hip and arranging himself as if he could really pres against John's back.
There's got to be something, some way to fix this. He's going to find it, get all the way Ascended or whatever, because then he can Descend and find John and hold him, hold him for real, and everything will be okay again.
Snowed In: Cam/Sheppard, target practice
"That hardly counts."
Cam snorted. "I hit it, fair and square. That's six for me, two for you."
John scowled. "You're cheating."
"How?" Cam countered as John lined up his shot.
"Not sure yet," John replied as he flicked the marshmallow from the table towards the target pinned to the wall. It hit the outer ring and bounced to the floor.
"Little to the left," Cam offered, and John flipped him the finger as he sat back and tossed Cam a marshmallow. It flew straight and true, right to the center of the target, before falling to join the pile accumulating on the floor.
"Being snowed in sucks," John commented as his next shot missed the target entirely. "This game sucks."
Cam very carefully didn't make the obvious joke, but he couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. John grinned right back and stood, grabbing Cam's hand and walking from the kitchen, marshmallow wars already forgotten.
Compromise: John/Cam, sunshine or snow?
John hears the phrase two weeks off and thinks of snow, of skis and boards and mugs of hot chocolate and clothing so insulated it feels like you're in the tropics. Cam hears the same words and thinks of a beach, somewhere with umbrellas and water and pineapples, where the most they'd have to worry about would be suntan lotion and towels.
They talk about it and talk about it, and it doesn't cause a fight, but they both realise that they're going to have to come to some sort of compromise. A week here, a week there, maybe, or somewhere else entirely.
"We could just stay here," Cam suggests that night, when John's flopped across the bed with a lazy smile on his face, naked as the day he was born. Cam's tracing idle patterns into his hip, and John's eyes open.
"Stay here for two weeks," he muses. "We wouldn't even have to leave the apartment."
"We'll just tell them we packed up and went to North Carolina." Cam continues. "But we'll hang around here in our pajamas."
"We sleep naked," John counters, and Cam grins.
"Exactly."
Chase: Cam/John, this is all Vala's fault
"Remind me why this was a good idea," John grunts as he hits the ground, having narrowly avoided an arrow to his left shoulderblade.
"Told you it wasn't, but Vala insisted," Cam points out as he dives after John. He lands next to the other man and rolls off the path, tugging John along with him. They end up out of view, under the brush along the road, John's body atop Cam's. Cam loops his arms around John and pulls him in as close to his body as he can manage while they both hold their breath, listening as the villagers pound down the road and eventually fade into the distance.
"Gonna let go of me?" John drawls, and Cam remembers that he's got one arm tightly wrapped around John's waist and another around his back. He drops his arms quickly as his face flushes.
"Sorry," he mumbles, but John doesn't move. He just smirks, his face inches from Cam's, and leans down slowly enough that Cam has the chance to roll away or shove him back but he doesn't, just waits until John brushes their lips together and pulls his head back.
"Yeah," Cam murmurs, and his hands come back up to rest in the small of John's back as John leans back in and kisses him again, hotter, deeper-
"Cameron!" Vala's voice sounds a little frantic, and Cam can hear footsteps on the path again. "John!"
Cam's head thunks into the ground, and John snickers as he rolls to lay beside Cam. "Vala," he calls, sitting up in the brush. Cam hears the footsteps pause, and then they're crashing through the brush in his and John's direction. Cam sits up next to John just as Vala drops to her knees beside them.
"I'm so sorry," she's babbling, reaching out to pick a stick out of John's hair. "I had no idea they would-"
"No worries," John says smoothly. His hand finds Cam's under the brush, and his fingers drum across Cam's skin. "I've had worse missions."
Cam tries very hard not to blush.
Choice: Cam/John, Catch-22
WARNING: character death.
It's an impossible choice, John thinks: he's got to choose, somehow, between the life of the man he loves more than he ever thought he could and the life of a child, no more than four years old. He can't think of any way to get out of it, and he's stalled for as long as he could, hoping, praying that the rest of their team would be able to track them down, blow the door away, keep John from having to do this.
They've handed John his sidearm and told him to choose who lives and who dies, and the child is shaking in Cam's arms as he leans in and murmurs to her soothingly. He glances over at John, and there's acceptance and understanding in his eyes, and John wants to choke, to scream, to gasp in air, because if he kills the child Cam might never forgive him but if he kills Cam he will never forgive himself.
"Three have entered," the High Priest tells him. "Only two can leave."
"I know," John snaps, and he wants to vomit. He closes his eyes and thinks in circles, round and round and round, and then it clicks, so simple, so elegant.
John opens his eyes and smiles at Cam. "Cover her eyes," he says, and Cam pulls the girl into his chest.
"I love you," Cam says, pure and honest, and he's said it a thousand times but John holds it and clings to it now and nods.
"I know," he replies. "I love you, too."
And for as many times as Cam's said it, John's never been able to force the words out. It's easy now, though, and John sees the realisation flash through Cam's face in an instant.
"John-" he says, reaching out with one hand across the space between them, leaning forward, still clutching the girl to him with his other hand.
"I love you," John repeats, more firmly this time, and he raises the gun in one swift motion and points it at his own head and pulls the trigger.
Pretty: Cam/John, pretty
John makes a pretty woman. He makes a beautiful fucking woman, actually, and Cam's pretty sure his boyfriend becoming his girlfriend isn't supposed to be such a goddamned turn-on, but there it is.
But John's face has rounded a little, his cheekbones are a little more pronounced, his hair's a little softer-looking, wavy, still short but longer. He's still tall and thin, but he has breasts now, proportional to the rest of his body, and legs that won't quit, and Cam hasn't been attracted to a woman in a long time, but he damn well is now.
"Hey," John says, and his - her? No, Cam decides, he can't handle that, his - voice is a little higher but definitely still the same voice. "This has got to be weird for you."
"Weird for me?" Cam can only snort. "Gotta tell you, Sheppard, you're kinda pretty as a woman."
He means it, but it's safe enough to say in the SGC where it could easily be overheard. John hears what he means, though, and smirks and leans back just like he always has, but now that he's a woman it accentuates the line of his back, sticks his chest out a little, shows off his hips. "That so?"
Cam swallows. "Don't let it go to your head."
John's eyes flick to Cam's crotch and back to his face, and his smirk ratchets up a notch. "You, either."
"Fuck you," Cam tosses off, trying to regain control of the situation, but John snickers and Cam can only close his eyes and take a deep breath. When he opens them back up, John's standing closer, leaning over his desk. Cam can see straight down his shirt to where John's breasts sit in a bra.
A black, lacy bra.
Cam has to swallow pretty damn hard when John's smirking face stops mere inches from his own. "Let's go," John says, and Cam stands without thinking and walks to the door, long-ingrained instincts making him hold it for John before following him down the hallway to the elevator.
The doors to the elevator close, and for once, nobody else has climbed in with them. John rests his elbows on the railing in the cab and smirks.
"So," he drawls. "Lee says it'll be a few days before he can switch me back. We're on stand-down til he figures it out."
He leaves the idea hanging, and Cam fills in the rest for himself. Let's go home. Let's lock the door. Let's not leave til we get called to come back.
"A few days?" he says aloud, and John nods. "Sounds good to me."
John's grin is decidedly wicked as the doors open. "Figured it might."
Surprise: Cam/John, "This is my brother, Dave."
"He's going to flip," John mutters as he yanks his tie out of its knot again and reties it for the fifth time. It was fine before, it's fine now, and Cam slaps his hands away when he tries to undo it again.
"Stop stressing," Cam tells him gently, grabbing John's hand and holding it in his own to keep him from fussing with his tie again. John's always looked good in his dress blues, and this time is no exception. Cam thinks it's even better that it's for a good reason: John's finally made full bird colonel.
"He's going to freak out," John continues. "He's only just talking to me again."
"John," Cam says. "We don't have to tell him now."
"No," John replies instantly, and for some reason it calms him. "No. I want to."
"Okay," Cam says, smiling reassuringly. He'd like to tell John that it'll be fine, that Dave won't be as upset as John thinks he will, but Cam thinks about John's father all but disowning him and Dave not talking to him for years and knows that John might not be overreacting.
"Colonels?" Harriman pokes his head into the room. "General O'Neill says, quote, get your asses into gear, unquote." He pushes his glasses up his nose with one finger. "He told me to tell you exactly that."
"Mission accomplished," Cam tells him as he and John stand together. He squeezes John's hand once more before dropping it, and John smiles at him, and then they walk down the hallway and into the room.
The ceremony goes smoothly; it's edited for company, since there are people in the room who have no idea that the Stargate exists, and Cam can't help but feel like John's been cheated, because O'Neill can't say half of what John's done. He gets his new insignia, though, and as Cam pins the bird to John's shoulder, John smiles at him again, and Cam smiles back just because he can.
Later, they're doing the meet-and-greet thing with the politicians and assorted military officials. John looks bored, but Cam's pretty sure nobody can tell that but him. He's looking at John's face when he sees John's expression freeze, and when Cam turns, there's a man standing in front of them.
"John?"
John lets out a breath and sucks another in. "This is my brother, Dave. Dave, Colonel Cameron Mitchell."
"Cam," he says, offering his hand. Dave's grip is firm and efficient, a practised businessman's handshake.
"Congratulations," Dave says to John, who nods. "Full Colonel. I know how terrible it sounds when I say it, John, but I really never thought-"
"Yeah," John cuts him off. "Neither did I."
There's an awkward moment while someone struggles to find something to say. Finally, John takes a breath. "Dave, Cam's - I'm - we're sort of -"
And then he turns and grabs Cam's face in his hands and kisses him. With tongue. Right there, in front of God and everybody and Dave.
There's complete and total silence when John finally pulls back, face flaming red, and he drops his head to Cam's shoulder.
Cam loops his arm firmly around John's waist as he turns to Dave. "Together," he supplies as the end to John's attempt at an explanation.
"So I see," Dave says, and the smirk he flashes for an instant makes him look more related to John. "How long?"
"Fourteen years," Cam replies, and there are murmurs from the rest of the room but Dave's frowning.
"Nancy?" he questions, turning to John, who finally lifts his head, His cheeks have mostly returned to their normal shade.
"She knew," John tells him quietly. "We got married because she was my friend and I needed to not be so..."
"We sort of got caught," Cam tries to explain. "We talked about it, talked to Nancy. She was..."
"Got it," Dave cuts him off, and there's more silence, a lot of it, and Cam's never thought of silence as loud before but it sure is now. Dave finally shakes his head a little and holds his hand out to Cam again.
"Welcome to the family," Dave says, the smile on his face is sincere as he shakes Cam's hand.
John turns, settling against Cam's side comfortably, and the expression on his face is confused and surprised and a little disbelieving. "You're not pissed?"
"You're happy," Dave counters. "Good enough."
Yeah, Cam thinks as he squeezes John's hip lightly in his hand. It really is.
Drapes: John/Cam, "either the drapes go, or I do!"
John hates the fucking drapes.
They're dark blue, which isn't bad at all, but they're made of some really heavy material and there's some sort of other material in them, something fuzzy and in swirls and patterns down the drapes, and he really fucking hates them without quite knowing why.
"Hey," he tries one day, "where'd the drapes come from?"
"Momma sent 'em," Cam replies absently. "Great Gran'ma Edith made them for her and Daddy when they got married."
Fuck. Wedding drapes. It's not like John can tell Cam that his parents' wedding drapes - hell, he realises, their wedding drapes - are terrible.
He hates them, though. He starts avoiding the living room, because when he's in there it's like the light's being sucked out, and the air, and he knows it's patently ridiculous but he spends less time in there anyway.
Cam notices, finally, when preseason starts and John watches the game in their room instead of sitting on the couch with him. He appears in the doorway during the first commercial break. "You okay?"
"Yeah," John says. "Watching the game."
"So'm I," Cam says slowly, jerking his thumb back towards the living room. "In the living room. With the couch and the big television."
"Yeah," John says, and there's a second of weird silence before Cam blurts, "What did I do?"
"What?" John's confused. "I don't know, what did you do?"
"I don't know." Cam looks confused too. "But lately, it's like you don't want to spend time with me outside of work or sex. I don't - I'm not trying to whine about it, John, and I'm not begrudging you some space, but I'd like to apologise for whatever it is I did."
John laughs a little as he walks over to stand next to his partner. "I'm sorry," he apologises instead.
"What?" Cam's confusion is clearly growing, and John grabs his hand and pulls him to the bed and mutes the television.
"I don't want to watch in the living room," John sort-of confesses, but Cam's not getting it, so John sighs and decides that enough's enough. "I hate those fucking drapes, Cam. I don't even know why, but every time I go in there I see them and they choke all the life out of the room and I hate them and stop laughing at me, asshole!"
"You've been avoiding the living room for a month because you don't like the drapes?" Cam sounds way too amused.
John definitely doesn't cross his arms. "Yes."
"We can take them down," Cam tells him, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the effort of not laughing.
"Fine," John snaps, happy enough but still a little irritated about the whole laughing thing.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Cam asks at halftime, when they're curled up in the bed watching the Colts trounce the Jaguars.
"Why didn't I want to tell you that I hate the drapes that your great grandmother made for your parents' wedding? The ones your mother gave to us when we moved in together?" John pretends to think. "Gee, I'm not sure."
"Don't be a dumbass," Cam tells him affectionately. "They're drapes, John. Drapes. We'll take them down tomorrow."
"When the game's over," John mutters.
Cam laughs again. "When the game's over," he agrees.
Have This Dance: Cam/John, ballroom dancing - who leads?
To say that John's surprised when he realises that his partner of twelve years can dance - really dance - is an understatement. It's true, though, because he's out there with Carter, beautiful in her wedding dress, and he's spinning her elegantly around the room. John's known how to dance since childhood, a product of his social upbringing, but his hazy vision of Cam's past includes things like square dancing and hoe downs, not the way his hand curls against Carter's back as he leads almost effortlessly. The dance ends with a dip, low enough to be impressive, and Carter pecks him on the cheek when he pulls her back up. He leads her back to her seat with a flourish, and makes his way back over to John.
"I had no idea you could dance like that," John tells him as he approaches. "You've been holding out on me, Mitchell."
Cam grins and grabs his hand from where it's resting on the table and before John can really form a protest they're on the edge of the dance floor, Cam's hand strong on John's shoulderblade just it had been on Carter's, and John glares as he puts his hand on Cam's deltoid. "Dip me at the end and I'm leaving you," John growls at him, and Cam just laughs as the music starts, a dizzying Viennese waltz, and they're off.
Cam doesn't lead any complicated moves, which is just fine by John, because the Viennese waltz had never been his strong point, and he hasn't done it in years anyway. It's complicated enough to put his feet in the right places at the right time, to remember the rise and fall, to do it backwards because he's the woman here, and he's a little amazed that they make it to the end of the dance without either of them tripping. Cam doesn't dip him, but his eyes crinkle with laughter as the music ends and John knows he's only just resisting the urge.
They break apart and turn to go back to their seats, and only then notice that there's nobody else on the dance floor. John thinks back to the beginning of the dance - there had definitely been a few other couples out there - but no, they're alone now. John feels his face heat.
Someone - probably Vala - wolf-whistles, and someone else - or it might still be Vala - starts clapping, and Cam grins and bows grandly. John rolls his eyes and smacks the back of Cam's head when he stands back up.
"Idiot," he mutters affectionately, and they walk back to their seats as the music starts again, something slow and easy that John identifies as a rumba but refuses to be swayed into. "Where'd you learn to dance like that?"
"Germany," Cam tells him. "Thirteen months at the world's most boring base. Thought I'd go crazy if I didn't find something to do."
"What else don't I know about you?" John asks suspiciously. "Got any other hidden talents I'm going to find out about at some moment I'm going to find potentially embarrassing?"
Cam's smile is bright as he replies. "You're just gonna have to wait and see."
Baby: Cameron Mitchell/Wee-John Sheppard, Cam plays Dad to a deaged Sheppard
Cam's not sure what he's expecting when his doorbell rings, but he's pretty sure it's not General O'Neill in civvies, carrying a baby.
"Here," O'Neill says, holding the infant out to him. Cam takes it automatically, supporting head and neck and back the way he's done with nieces and nephews and cousins for years, and when he looks down, the baby's eyes are open and staring at him and, oh, hell no.
"Tell me this isn't-"
"It is," O'Neill confirms. He hesitates. "Look, for whatever reason, you've got his medical power of attorney. He clearly trusts you, so I figured I'd see if you were willing to keep track of him until McKay figures out which piece of tech did this and finds a way to reverse it."
Cam looks down at the two-month-old version of his husband and sighs. "You are never going to live this down," he tells the baby, before meeting O'Neill's eyes. "You've got nappies and formula?"
O'Neill gives him everything he might need, from crib to nappies to clothing to car seat, and Cam settles in to be the dad he didn't figure he'd ever get the chance to be.
It's hard, Cam thinks two weeks later, to be a dad at all, and being a single dad is even harder. He's got to handle all the feedings and changings by himself, and bathing is an issue he dreads. At least his presence seems to calm the baby, and Cam likes to think that there's some part of who John will be in there somewhere, that he's comforted by being near Cam.
He kind of likes the attention he gets, too, walking through the grocer's or at the bank with baby John, who's been smiling and blowing bubbles in the past few days, and generally being cute as all hell. Women have been cooing over John, which John would get the largest kick out of if he could see, and Cam doesn't mind that people let him skip in line or just treat him more nicely in general. He's glad, though, that he has a ring to wear, the one he usually keeps on his dogtags, because there's attention and then there's attention, and that's something he wouldn't be able to deal with right now.
It's also nice to be able to sit with John, to talk to him so freely. There's a lot of things Cam's wanted to say to John for years now, things he thinks about, things he wishes for both of them. It's something he's going to miss when John's back to himself, being able to hold John close every night and whisper how much Cam loves him without John blushing or things getting awkward. They might be married, but John's never been good with emotions, his own or someone else's.
It's a month before McKay shows up at Cam's apartment with a box. "Where is he?" the man demands loudly. John starts crying in the other room, and Cam gives McKay a weary look.
"I just got him down," he grouses, going to fetch John from the crib. McKay looks at Cam curiously as he enters the room with John tucked into his arm, squirming slightly, sucking on one fist.
"I forgot how little he was," McKay says more quietly. He looks up at Cam. "How - this has to have been weird for you."
"Yeah," Cam says succinctly. It has. There's really not much more that could be added to that; at least, not anything that Cam really wants McKay to know about. "You here for a reason, or..."
"Oh!" McKay blinks and opens the box he's holding, dumping its contents onto the table. It's a small rectangular thing, made of the blue-green stuff that screams Ancient, and Cam knows what it is before McKay says anything.
"You figured it out," Cam breathes, reaching out to grab the box. McKay smacks his hand away with an irritated look on his face.
"If you touch it, you'll be in the same situation that Sheppard's in," he warns. "God knows why, but the Ancients made a device that will turn anyone with the gene into an infant."
"That's really weird," Cam agrees. "Will it turn him back?"
McKay nods. "He just has to touch it."
Cam sits at the table, John tucked into his arm, and uses the cardboard box McKay had transported the device in to scoot the device closer to himself. He considers their positions, that John will soon be his 180-pound self again, and flips the device back into the box before settling on the floor. He looks up at McKay after getting everything into place.
"Um," he says. "Could we have a little privacy?"
McKay's nostrils flare. "I'm his best friend, Colonel," he begins, but Cam cuts him off.
"I'm his husband, and he's about to be naked," Cam says levelly, and McKay's eyes widen and he nods as he leaves the kitchen.
Cam takes a deep breath, uncurls John's tiny fist, and presses it to the device.
There's a second where nothing happens, but as Cam lets go of John's hand, there's a soft popping sound and a flash of light. When it recedes, John's on the floor, the John Cam married, forty-something John, not infant John, and Cam's never been happier to see his husband than he is right now.
"Cam?" John says, hazy and distant, and Cam grabs him by the shoulders and hauls him upright, wrapping his arms around John's frame and hugging him tightly.
"God, John," he breathes. "You're back."
John hugs him back, just as tightly. "Thank you," he says back softly, over and over. "Thank you."
"I love you," Cam says, and he's said it a thousand times that John would remember, plus several times every day for the past month, but he needs John to hear it now.
John tilts his head and smiles crookedly. "I know. You've been saying it a lot lately."
Cam feels his eyes widen. "You heard? You remember?"
John nods and leans in to brush his lips against Cam's. "Thank you," he says again. "And hey. I love you, too."
So yeah, I might need an intervention. Or something.