Without a Scratch (Cam/Daniel) PG-13
For the Cameron Mitchell ficathon, run by dirty_diana. You can find the links to stories HERE if you'd like to read some Cam fic. :)
Without a Scratch
by surreallis
Pairing: Cam/Daniel
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: adult language
Category: Ummm. Huh. I guess the correct label would be pre-slash? Smarm? Friendship?
For gigerisgod. I hope this isn’t too fluffy! I wasn’t sure if you wanted actual slash/smut for this prompt or not, so I sort of made it in-between.
Prompt: Cam/Daniel, Cam’s black Mustang & alcohol. No fluff please.
A/N- Thanks to Courser for looking it over and giving me all the advice. : )
++
The can appeared suddenly, coming from above and settling carefully on top of his half-finished lab report.
Daniel raised his eyebrows at the beer and stared at it, even as he said into the seemingly empty room, “I thought General Landry told you no more beer in the mountain.”
There was a slight scuff of boots on cement, and then Cam swung around from behind him and leaned over his lab table, open can in hand. Mitchell’s blue eyes held his. “No, he said I couldn’t have it on duty, and I couldn’t keep it in Sam’s lab fridge. He didn’t say anything about actually keeping it in my quarters.”
Daniel tilted his head back and gazed speculatively at him. “Actually, I think it was Sam who warned you about keeping beer in her lab fridge. Something about contaminating her results… And then something else about putting hair remover in your shampoo next time?”
Cam shrugged and then used his can of beer to make a dismissive gesture. “Water under the bridge.”
Daniel gave him a wry smile. “Right.” He watched as Cam took a long swallow of the beer, throat working. “How many of these have you had?”
“This is my second.” He pointed to the beer in front of Daniel. “That’s my last one.”
Daniel stared down at it with a frown. “And you chose to give it to me. I’m honored.”
“Really?” Cam’s voice was dry. “Because you don’t sound honored.” He took another swig.
“No, no,” Daniel insisted absently, using his pen to push the can off his report. “I’m honored.”
Cam gave him an irritated glance and scooped the unopened can back up again. “Forget it. You don’t deserve my last beer.”
Daniel relented. “I’m sorry, Mitchell, really. I’d love to have a beer with you, but I’m not staying on base tonight. I have to drive home.”
“Hot date?” Cam raised one eyebrow in a very Teal’c-like manner, and Daniel glared at him.
“Yes. With a hot shower and my bed. Since we have tomorrow off I plan on sleeping about twelve hours to make up for the past week.” With Vala finally gone, and Sam just barely returned to the band, their missions had been routine and somewhat tedious. The most recent mission had run far longer than usual, and the planet had been overrun with annoyingly loud insects.
“Great,” Cam exclaimed. “Then you won’t mind giving me a ride. We can stop for more beer in town.”
Daniel sighed and looked up at him from under lowered lashes.
“Oh, come on,” Cam protested. “Sam took off and disappeared nearly two hours ago, and Teal’c ‘wished to be alone’.'”
Daniel sighed again. It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse and send Mitchell off to his own quarters to finish his beer and sleep it off, when he hesitated. There was something in the set of Mitchell’s shoulders, in the tightness of his jaw and the depth of his eyes: weariness. Or maybe just loneliness. Something. He'd had a whirlwind initiation into the life of SG-1 over the past couple months.
“Hey,” Daniel said, quietly. “You okay?”
“Sure,” Mitchell answered with a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He reached into his pocket and brought out a ring of keys, slapping them down on the table. “In fact, I’ve got another honor for you.”
Daniel frowned down at the keys. “You’re giving me your car?”
Cam blinked at him and then spoke slowly. “No. Jackson. I’m not giving you my car. I’m going to let you drive the Mustang.”
“Oh.” Daniel nodded and then glanced back down at his lab report. “I’d rather just take mine.”
Cam just shook his head in disbelief and grabbed the keys up again. “You’re a mystery, Jackson.”
Daniel smiled and stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. “Why does everybody always say that?”
They walked along the corridors in relative silence, and Cam jingled his keys in his pocket. Daniel glanced at him as they approached the elevator. “Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer…”
“Jackson.” Cam swiped his card through the elevator’s reader and turned to face him. “You do realize that I don’t let anyone drive The ‘Stang, right? Not even Sam.”
Daniel let his expression morph into faux confusion. “That’s funny, because I thought it was more like you begging Sam to drive-“ He raised his fingers and made quotation marks in the air. "-The Stang, and Sam not being interested.”
Cam stared at him a moment and then scowled. “I do not understand that woman! My car is a classic!”
Daniel almost laughed. The elevator doors slid open, and they both stepped in. Daniel punched the button for the exchange level. “She works with naquada generators and jet engines all day. It takes more than a generic Ford Mustang to impress her.” Like rebuilding rare motorcycles from the ground up.
“Generic?” Cam sounded grievously wounded, and Daniel shrugged. Cam narrowed his eyes and pulled the keys from his pocket again, holding them up in front of Daniel’s face. “Fine, Sam might not be interested in the pleasures of generic machinery, but what about you?”
Daniel watched the keys swing with the movement of the elevator. “Never felt the need. You know what they say about fast cars and compensating…”
Cam wasn’t phased by the jab. “The people who say that have never tried it.” He leaned closer, until Daniel could almost feel the heat radiating off of him. “Have you ever driven a sleek, fast, perfectly balanced machine that responds to every touch as if you’re one, giant beast; every vibration, every mile faster, every excited heart beat just one more wicked thrill?”
Daniel stared at him, speechless, trying to look bored although his mouth had suddenly gone dry.
Cam smirked. “Not counting Vala that is…”
Daniel rolled his eyes and grabbed the keys away from him. “Bite me, Mitchell. You're lucky she's gone or she’d kick your ass if she heard you say that.”
He looked suddenly pensive. “I know. If she comes back, don't tell her.”
It was Daniel’s turn to smirk.
++
The 'Stang was indeed a sleek piece of machinery. Daniel could almost smell the testosterone as he slid into the driver's seat. The car was almost older than he was, and despite the careful restoration, he felt like he'd stepped into a time machine. The old fashioned speedometer, the racing steering wheel, the thick, folding seatbelts, all of it made him shift uncomfortably and yet held him fascinated at the same time. He glanced up as Mitchell slid into the passenger seat. "I'm assuming this thing doesn't have airbags."
Cam shot him an annoyed glance. "No. Don't crash."
"Okay."
When he stepped on the clutch and turned the key, the car rumbled to life with a deep, almost threatening growl. It sounded fast and powerful, and he felt an answering stab of excitement in his gut despite his determination to be above it all. He thought he managed to hide it well as he shifted into reverse and backed the car out of the parking space.
It was an odd feeling, being in the midst of so much black, menacing leather and accessories. Quasi-kinky and reminiscent of Mad Max, if he really wanted to think about it. He had a feeling Mitchell would take exception to that though...
He hadn't driven a manual transmission in a while, and as he shifted into first and let up on the clutch the car jerked forward. He quickly got on the throttle, trying to smooth it out and managed to keep from killing it. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Cam staring at him. "Shut up," he muttered, trying to head off the sarcastic comment.
Mitchell just grinned and made a show of checking that his seat belt was fastened tight.
Once they were out on the road, he took it easy, trying to slide back into the automatic movements of driving a stick. The roads down the mountain were curvy and low speed, and he relaxed a bit as he drove.
"Smooth as silk," Cam declared proudly, patting the dashboard. "Right, baby?"
"If you say so," Daniel said, glancing at him with a frown as he tried to shift into fourth gear. He couldn't find it...
"Right and then pull back," Mitchell ordered as the car drifted a bit, Daniel's foot on the clutch.
Daniel struggled with it another moment before the stick slid right and then straight back, and then the Mustang leapt forward again. "Your baby's a little cranky," he muttered as Cam shook his head and swore softly.
It was early evening in autumn, and Mitchell rolled his window down as they drove into Colorado Springs, leaning back against the seat with a sigh. Daniel remembered his first year on SG-1 very well, and despite his obsession with finding Sha're, he'd still found time to be overwhelmed by everything he’d seen and experienced. And he hadn't been trying to lead the team like Mitchell was... Although Jack might have disagreed with that. Daniel lifted one corner of his mouth in amusement.
"What's so funny?"
Daniel glanced over and saw Cam lazily studying him, head resting back against the seat. "Nothing. Just remembering my first year on SG-1."
"Ah." Cam closed his eyes again and tilted his face into the wind.
Daniel glanced between him and the road. "You sure you're okay?" It really hadn't been all that long since he'd been declared fully recovered from his arctic crash.
"Nnhmm." Mitchell gave a wordless grunt of approval. He cracked one eyelid open and motioned with his hand. "Turn right here."
Daniel turned and the road took them to Mike's Liquor where Mitchell climbed out of the car and went in while Daniel waited, engine running. He watched through the store's big window as Mitchell paid at the counter and talked to the clerk. He wasn't completely convinced that everything was okay, but he wasn't sure how to make the man talk about it. He'd managed to do something that none of them had ever thought would happen. He'd managed to get them all back together as a team under someone who wasn't Jack O'Neill. But Jack had had an advantage when he'd started out. He'd been more seasoned, and he'd already had an inkling of what was in store for him through the 'gate.
Mitchell had been mostly blind.
Daniel gripped the steering wheel and looked over the dark interior of the car with interest. Everything that wasn't black was covered in silver chrome. The thick, leather padding of the wheel had depressions worn into the sides where Mitchell rested his hands, and Daniel absently fit his fingers into the grooves. Through the window, Mitchell was laughing with the clerk, and Daniel watched him, amused and pensive. Mitchell reminded him of one those popular, easy to like guys from high school. A good guy, not the kind that beat the shit out the guys who were smaller than they were. Like the jock who used to talk to him, despite Daniel's glasses and sarcastic tongue and the fact that he took all the advanced college prep courses, Cameron was just so damned earnest...
Mitchell slid back into the car with a twelve-pack of Coors in his hands, and for an instant Daniel really felt like he was back in school, riding with the one friend who'd had his own car, trying to find the upperclassman who'd buy them a six-pack and not rat them out.
"Did you play football in school?" He asked as he eased the Mustang out of Mike's parking lot.
Mitchell looked surprised. "Yeah, in high school. Wasn't good enough to play in college, but I didn't care. By then I knew I wanted to join the Air Force and fly anyway."
Daniel just smiled.
"Turn left up here." Cam pointed out the windshield.
Daniel furrowed his brows. "You live east."
"It's early, Jackson. Turn left."
"Why?"
"Jackson." Cam turned a long-suffering glance on him. "Do you have to question everything?"
Daniel shrugged. "Yes." He glanced at Cam. "Surely you already knew that."
Cam just shook his head, but Daniel turned left. Cam led him up several familiar mountain roads, and Daniel knew instantly where they were going. He pulled onto the gravel road leading to the bluff looking out over the city. "How easy do you think I am?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "You do know what the kids use this place for around here, right?" He was well versed with the curves and dips in the unpaved road, having been recruited more than once to drive up here with Janet when Cassie was going through a difficult teenage period and staying out late with boys.
"It's a school night, Jackson. Trust me, we'll have it all to ourselves."
Daniel gave him a curious glance, but as they drove up to the leading edge and looked out over the city lights, he forgot about it. It was a beautiful sight. It wasn't a city with the scope or the skyline of New York or Los Angeles or even Denver, but it had its own charm and it didn't feel as overwhelming and empty as some.
They got out and Mitchell cracked open another beer, shedding his boots and sliding up onto the hood of his car. He leaned back against the windshield and sipped from the can. Daniel watched him for a moment and then rested his hip against the front side panel of the Mustang and folded his arms across his chest. Maybe Mitchell did need to talk... Maybe this was the build up. He waited patiently and stared out over the city.
Cam finished one beer and started another before he started talking. "I'm sorry you didn't get to go to Atlantis," he said, quietly. "I mean... I wanted you to stick around, but I know how much you wanted to go, and I think if things had happened differently you'd probably be there right now. In spite of me, that is."
Daniel thought about that a moment. He'd been furious at first, but later... He gave a shrug. "Maybe."
"It's just... been a rough couple of months, and I didn't get the chance to tell you before. But I am sorry."
"Thanks." He watched as Cam gave a curt nod and settled back, beer can resting on his stomach, eyes a little sleepy and gazing out over the field of lights. "Honestly? If I can't go to Atlantis then this is where I want to be."
"Glad to hear it."
Daniel hesitated and then took the plunge. "What about you?"
"Hm?"
"How are you doing... with all of this?"
Cam shrugged, lifting his can to his mouth and taking a deep draw. "Okay. It's definitely not a regular day at the office yet, but a year ago I was struggling to even piss by myself, so... by comparison? It's a fucking cake-walk."
"You came back really quick. Really quick."
Cam gave a pensive nod. "Damn right."
"There's more to recovery than just the physical aspect."
Cam finally turned his head to look at him. "What are you saying, Jackson? You think I'm nuts?"
Daniel grinned. "Well... you were offered your choice of assignment, and you chose to fight aliens with SG-1."
Cam smiled, but wryly. "Please... as if half the world wouldn't choose the same thing."
Daniel sobered. "Not once they saw everything we had to go through, everything we had to do and the people we had to lose. It takes a toll. A big toll. And we can't even tell anyone about it..."
Cam quieted, growing thoughtful, and he slid a hand beneath his head. Daniel watched him and felt a pang of envy. Mitchell always seemed effortlessly comfortable with himself. In the way he talked, moved, dressed... everything. Even resting on the car hood he sprawled in an easy confidence, relaxed and yet somehow managing to look ready and able. His T-shirt wasn't too tight or fitted. His belt buckle was tarnished and cocked off to the side, yet it still managed to look fashionable. His jeans fit him like they were made specifically for him, not tight but not loose, masculine. He had an ease in his own skin that Daniel still couldn't manage some days, despite years of change from a floppy-haired geek to a strongly built soldier.
In the silence, Daniel walked around and slid up onto the car hood, sitting next to Cam’s feet, careful to keep his boots clear of the metal. He motioned at Cam to pass his can over, and Cam leaned forward with a grunt and gave it up freely. Daniel took a long, cool drink and then passed it back. He still had to drive them home. Cam took it and drank without wiping the top. As they watched the lights, Cam's bent knee, propped up on the hood, gradually rested more and more solidly against Daniel's side. Daniel turned slightly and glanced back at him but didn't move away.
"I thought after flying jets for so many years that a Mustang would pale in comparison.," he teased.
Cam stared up at the stars for a moment in thought, and then, "You can't feel the speed when you're in the air. Think of an airplane. You can only really feel how fast you're going when the wheels are in touch with the ground." He jerked his head toward the sky. "Up there it's more like you're suspended in space. Down here, where the wheels meet the ground, it's much more... " He frowned, trailing away.
"Visceral?" Daniel offered.
Cam nodded slowly. "Yeah. You can really feel how fast you're hurling your body along. You can see the trees whipping past. Up there, you don't feel that same sensation." He swallowed. "Not until you see the ground coming up in front of you like a brick wall, and you hit. And it turns you inside out..." His voice trailed off.
Daniel watched as Mitchell faded away from him into the past. Into the arctic snow. He grabbed Cam's knee, shaking it slightly. "Hey, still okay?"
Mitchell shifted his gaze to him, and Daniel could see the blue of his eyes even in the darkness. "Yeah." He paused. "Didn't get much sleep last night."
"Bad dreams?" Daniel hesitated. "The crash?"
"Always," Cam answered with a shrug. "Don't think that'll ever go away."
Daniel nodded in agreement. "If you're lucky you'll get killed a few times, or maybe tortured, and then you'll dream about that instead."
It was a testament to the bond of SG-1 that Cam found that funny and laughed. To anyone else it would have sounded callous or just plain mean. But to SG-1... there was always a dark edge to their humor. You couldn't ignore that imminent threat of death and nightmares. When you could die at any time, you learned to deal with it the only way you could, without losing your sanity.
"You know, the next time I have a nightmare, I'm going to call you." Cam smirked at him.
Daniel smiled. "You should."
Cam held his gaze and his smirk faded slowly. It always felt like Cam was searching for more when he stared at you. Daniel glanced away. Cam brought a knee back and then planted a foot in his back and shoved, pushing him off the car's hood. "You need a beer, Jackson. Let's get going."
Daniel turned and put his own smirk on. "Your place or mine?"
"Mine," Cam answered immediately as he slid off the hood and into his boots. "I always feel like a bull in a china shop at your place."
"Yeah, there's a lot of bull in you alright."
Cam shot him a wry glare, and Daniel grinned.
The Mustang rumbled to life again under Daniel's fingers, and he eased the car down the gravel road toward the pavement. It did feel different, he realized, as the ride smoothed out on the real road. When he hit a straight, remote stretch between the mountain and the city, he downshifted and stepped on the throttle. The Mustang began picking up speed, and Daniel could feel each mile per hour as the speedometer climbed. Beside him, Cam shifted in his seat and looked at him.
"You've got 3 miles to risk it, Jackson, and then there's a wicked curve."
Daniel glanced at him, thoughtfully. Normally, he wouldn't... Cam was watching him with glittering eyes. Daniel stepped on the gas, and the car surged forward. He up-shifted and accelerated through third gear, the car racing along the road, the engine-roar growing steadily higher in pitch. Daniel's stomach leapt up into his throat, and his heart pounded. Jesus... we’re flying. The shifter bounced in the gear box as he tried to find fourth gear, and he swore out loud as the car leveled off. A warm hand closed tightly over his, jerking his hand and the shifter to the right and then pulling it straight back into gear. He let off the clutch and hit the gas, gaining speed again.
Cam's hand stayed wrapped around his on the shifter, and Daniel couldn't help the grin that tugged at the edges of his mouth. The street lights were few and far between this far out, and the headlights illuminated their path, the dotted yellow line in the middle of the road a rapid blur as they ate up the pavement. Crashing now would mean instant death, and he could feel every inch, every second, of the car's velocity. It felt distinctly like his body was hurtling through the air at a million miles an hour.
"Fuck," he muttered, finding himself strangely breathless. When he glanced (oh so briefly) over at the passenger seat, Mitchell had his head against the headrest, relaxed except for the smile on his lips.
Daniel found himself wanting to laugh.
++
"Mitchell, no more!" Daniel shoved the can of beer, and the hand offering it, away from him. "It's one in the fucking morning. I'm tired!"
Cam shook his head in disappointment and took a swig of the beer himself. "Jackson, you're letting me down!"
Daniel laid the video game controller down and collapsed back against the sofa, reaching up to rub at his eyes. "Go to bed already. I'll crash here."
"One more game."
Daniel turned to stare at Cam, his vision swimming a bit as the alcohol in his system sloshed over his senses. "I can't even keep track of the score anymore. I keep making my little guy punch himself and run into the wall."
Cam gave a snort of laughter at that.
Daniel shoved at him. "Go to bed."
Cam didn't move. He took another sip and then stared at the coffee table.
Daniel heaved a long, weary sigh. "What's wrong?"
Cam turned his head and held Daniel's gaze. "Just one more game. Then I might be okay."
"Okay for what?" Daniel really was tired, and beer never agreed with him.
"Okay to sleep. Without dreams."
Daniel stared at him. Cam stared at the television and took another swig, waiting.
"Okay," Daniel finally said, softly. "One more."
Cam handed him the beer.
++
The metal spear was three feet long and as thick around as his wrist. The honed, razor-edged tip was so sharp that he didn't even feel it as it pierced his gut and slid straight through. It only opened the way for the thicker shaft though, and there wasn't so much pain as there was an unyielding pressure. His breath died in his lungs. He stared up at the blue eyes above him. Sam...
No, not Sam. Sam would never do this to him because she loved him. The cruelty in the eyes... Cold. Robotic. Replicator...
He was suffocating.
Daniel came violently awake, whole body jerking up and aching. He couldn't get air! He was dying...
"Jackson!"
Hands were holding him down, and he was straining against them. Oh... fuck, his stomach was in knots...
"Daniel." The voice was calmer. "It was a dream."
He blinked, and then realized he could breathe again. He always could. His stomach was still knotted in anxiety, but the dream faded. He collapsed back against the mattress, fully awake. Cam's worried face appeared above his in the darkness.
"Sorry," he tried to reassure Cam. His voice sounded thick and rough from sleep.
"You okay?"
"Mm." He didn't feel like he could manage words right then. Cam watched him for a moment, hand resting warmly on Daniel's chest. Daniel tasted the stale beer in the back of his throat, and he had fleeting memories of tilting one bottle after another to his lips. Of Cam's laughing face, and then the hazy cloud of drunkenness and collapsing tiredly into Cam's bed, losing consciousness almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
"Let it go and breathe through it," Cam murmured beside him.
Daniel raised a hand to rub at his stomach, feeling the skin whole and uninjured. He looked up. Cam’s hair was tousled, his eyes sleepy, his chest bare. "Thanks." He tried a casual laugh, but it came out sounding thin and strained. “And here we were all worried about you having nightmares tonight.”
"Want to talk about it?"
"No. Same old, same old."
Cam nodded, understanding. "Go back to sleep," he ordered, quietly.
Daniel turned onto his side, feeling the dream slip completely away. Behind him, Cam settled back down, and suddenly pushed an arm around Daniel's side, palm sliding up to rest against Daniel's chest and pull him back tight into the concave warmth of Cam’s solid body. Daniel tightened up for a moment, confused, until the warmth and the security soaked into him. He could feel the hard planes of muscle in Cam's chest against his back, the bulge of Cam’s bicep against his ribs.
"S'okay," Cam mumbled against his hair, and his breath slowed into sleep again, puffing out lightly against the back of Daniel's neck, cooling the misting sweat there.
Daniel sagged back against him, feeling that knot in his stomach finally let go and fade.
It was still a few hours until dawn. Maybe they could both get some sleep. Tomorrow, maybe they'd take a drive...
~end~
++
This is such a pretty pairing...
Without a Scratch
by surreallis
Pairing: Cam/Daniel
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: adult language
Category: Ummm. Huh. I guess the correct label would be pre-slash? Smarm? Friendship?
For gigerisgod. I hope this isn’t too fluffy! I wasn’t sure if you wanted actual slash/smut for this prompt or not, so I sort of made it in-between.
Prompt: Cam/Daniel, Cam’s black Mustang & alcohol. No fluff please.
A/N- Thanks to Courser for looking it over and giving me all the advice. : )
++
The can appeared suddenly, coming from above and settling carefully on top of his half-finished lab report.
Daniel raised his eyebrows at the beer and stared at it, even as he said into the seemingly empty room, “I thought General Landry told you no more beer in the mountain.”
There was a slight scuff of boots on cement, and then Cam swung around from behind him and leaned over his lab table, open can in hand. Mitchell’s blue eyes held his. “No, he said I couldn’t have it on duty, and I couldn’t keep it in Sam’s lab fridge. He didn’t say anything about actually keeping it in my quarters.”
Daniel tilted his head back and gazed speculatively at him. “Actually, I think it was Sam who warned you about keeping beer in her lab fridge. Something about contaminating her results… And then something else about putting hair remover in your shampoo next time?”
Cam shrugged and then used his can of beer to make a dismissive gesture. “Water under the bridge.”
Daniel gave him a wry smile. “Right.” He watched as Cam took a long swallow of the beer, throat working. “How many of these have you had?”
“This is my second.” He pointed to the beer in front of Daniel. “That’s my last one.”
Daniel stared down at it with a frown. “And you chose to give it to me. I’m honored.”
“Really?” Cam’s voice was dry. “Because you don’t sound honored.” He took another swig.
“No, no,” Daniel insisted absently, using his pen to push the can off his report. “I’m honored.”
Cam gave him an irritated glance and scooped the unopened can back up again. “Forget it. You don’t deserve my last beer.”
Daniel relented. “I’m sorry, Mitchell, really. I’d love to have a beer with you, but I’m not staying on base tonight. I have to drive home.”
“Hot date?” Cam raised one eyebrow in a very Teal’c-like manner, and Daniel glared at him.
“Yes. With a hot shower and my bed. Since we have tomorrow off I plan on sleeping about twelve hours to make up for the past week.” With Vala finally gone, and Sam just barely returned to the band, their missions had been routine and somewhat tedious. The most recent mission had run far longer than usual, and the planet had been overrun with annoyingly loud insects.
“Great,” Cam exclaimed. “Then you won’t mind giving me a ride. We can stop for more beer in town.”
Daniel sighed and looked up at him from under lowered lashes.
“Oh, come on,” Cam protested. “Sam took off and disappeared nearly two hours ago, and Teal’c ‘wished to be alone’.'”
Daniel sighed again. It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse and send Mitchell off to his own quarters to finish his beer and sleep it off, when he hesitated. There was something in the set of Mitchell’s shoulders, in the tightness of his jaw and the depth of his eyes: weariness. Or maybe just loneliness. Something. He'd had a whirlwind initiation into the life of SG-1 over the past couple months.
“Hey,” Daniel said, quietly. “You okay?”
“Sure,” Mitchell answered with a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He reached into his pocket and brought out a ring of keys, slapping them down on the table. “In fact, I’ve got another honor for you.”
Daniel frowned down at the keys. “You’re giving me your car?”
Cam blinked at him and then spoke slowly. “No. Jackson. I’m not giving you my car. I’m going to let you drive the Mustang.”
“Oh.” Daniel nodded and then glanced back down at his lab report. “I’d rather just take mine.”
Cam just shook his head in disbelief and grabbed the keys up again. “You’re a mystery, Jackson.”
Daniel smiled and stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. “Why does everybody always say that?”
They walked along the corridors in relative silence, and Cam jingled his keys in his pocket. Daniel glanced at him as they approached the elevator. “Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer…”
“Jackson.” Cam swiped his card through the elevator’s reader and turned to face him. “You do realize that I don’t let anyone drive The ‘Stang, right? Not even Sam.”
Daniel let his expression morph into faux confusion. “That’s funny, because I thought it was more like you begging Sam to drive-“ He raised his fingers and made quotation marks in the air. "-The Stang, and Sam not being interested.”
Cam stared at him a moment and then scowled. “I do not understand that woman! My car is a classic!”
Daniel almost laughed. The elevator doors slid open, and they both stepped in. Daniel punched the button for the exchange level. “She works with naquada generators and jet engines all day. It takes more than a generic Ford Mustang to impress her.” Like rebuilding rare motorcycles from the ground up.
“Generic?” Cam sounded grievously wounded, and Daniel shrugged. Cam narrowed his eyes and pulled the keys from his pocket again, holding them up in front of Daniel’s face. “Fine, Sam might not be interested in the pleasures of generic machinery, but what about you?”
Daniel watched the keys swing with the movement of the elevator. “Never felt the need. You know what they say about fast cars and compensating…”
Cam wasn’t phased by the jab. “The people who say that have never tried it.” He leaned closer, until Daniel could almost feel the heat radiating off of him. “Have you ever driven a sleek, fast, perfectly balanced machine that responds to every touch as if you’re one, giant beast; every vibration, every mile faster, every excited heart beat just one more wicked thrill?”
Daniel stared at him, speechless, trying to look bored although his mouth had suddenly gone dry.
Cam smirked. “Not counting Vala that is…”
Daniel rolled his eyes and grabbed the keys away from him. “Bite me, Mitchell. You're lucky she's gone or she’d kick your ass if she heard you say that.”
He looked suddenly pensive. “I know. If she comes back, don't tell her.”
It was Daniel’s turn to smirk.
++
The 'Stang was indeed a sleek piece of machinery. Daniel could almost smell the testosterone as he slid into the driver's seat. The car was almost older than he was, and despite the careful restoration, he felt like he'd stepped into a time machine. The old fashioned speedometer, the racing steering wheel, the thick, folding seatbelts, all of it made him shift uncomfortably and yet held him fascinated at the same time. He glanced up as Mitchell slid into the passenger seat. "I'm assuming this thing doesn't have airbags."
Cam shot him an annoyed glance. "No. Don't crash."
"Okay."
When he stepped on the clutch and turned the key, the car rumbled to life with a deep, almost threatening growl. It sounded fast and powerful, and he felt an answering stab of excitement in his gut despite his determination to be above it all. He thought he managed to hide it well as he shifted into reverse and backed the car out of the parking space.
It was an odd feeling, being in the midst of so much black, menacing leather and accessories. Quasi-kinky and reminiscent of Mad Max, if he really wanted to think about it. He had a feeling Mitchell would take exception to that though...
He hadn't driven a manual transmission in a while, and as he shifted into first and let up on the clutch the car jerked forward. He quickly got on the throttle, trying to smooth it out and managed to keep from killing it. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Cam staring at him. "Shut up," he muttered, trying to head off the sarcastic comment.
Mitchell just grinned and made a show of checking that his seat belt was fastened tight.
Once they were out on the road, he took it easy, trying to slide back into the automatic movements of driving a stick. The roads down the mountain were curvy and low speed, and he relaxed a bit as he drove.
"Smooth as silk," Cam declared proudly, patting the dashboard. "Right, baby?"
"If you say so," Daniel said, glancing at him with a frown as he tried to shift into fourth gear. He couldn't find it...
"Right and then pull back," Mitchell ordered as the car drifted a bit, Daniel's foot on the clutch.
Daniel struggled with it another moment before the stick slid right and then straight back, and then the Mustang leapt forward again. "Your baby's a little cranky," he muttered as Cam shook his head and swore softly.
It was early evening in autumn, and Mitchell rolled his window down as they drove into Colorado Springs, leaning back against the seat with a sigh. Daniel remembered his first year on SG-1 very well, and despite his obsession with finding Sha're, he'd still found time to be overwhelmed by everything he’d seen and experienced. And he hadn't been trying to lead the team like Mitchell was... Although Jack might have disagreed with that. Daniel lifted one corner of his mouth in amusement.
"What's so funny?"
Daniel glanced over and saw Cam lazily studying him, head resting back against the seat. "Nothing. Just remembering my first year on SG-1."
"Ah." Cam closed his eyes again and tilted his face into the wind.
Daniel glanced between him and the road. "You sure you're okay?" It really hadn't been all that long since he'd been declared fully recovered from his arctic crash.
"Nnhmm." Mitchell gave a wordless grunt of approval. He cracked one eyelid open and motioned with his hand. "Turn right here."
Daniel turned and the road took them to Mike's Liquor where Mitchell climbed out of the car and went in while Daniel waited, engine running. He watched through the store's big window as Mitchell paid at the counter and talked to the clerk. He wasn't completely convinced that everything was okay, but he wasn't sure how to make the man talk about it. He'd managed to do something that none of them had ever thought would happen. He'd managed to get them all back together as a team under someone who wasn't Jack O'Neill. But Jack had had an advantage when he'd started out. He'd been more seasoned, and he'd already had an inkling of what was in store for him through the 'gate.
Mitchell had been mostly blind.
Daniel gripped the steering wheel and looked over the dark interior of the car with interest. Everything that wasn't black was covered in silver chrome. The thick, leather padding of the wheel had depressions worn into the sides where Mitchell rested his hands, and Daniel absently fit his fingers into the grooves. Through the window, Mitchell was laughing with the clerk, and Daniel watched him, amused and pensive. Mitchell reminded him of one those popular, easy to like guys from high school. A good guy, not the kind that beat the shit out the guys who were smaller than they were. Like the jock who used to talk to him, despite Daniel's glasses and sarcastic tongue and the fact that he took all the advanced college prep courses, Cameron was just so damned earnest...
Mitchell slid back into the car with a twelve-pack of Coors in his hands, and for an instant Daniel really felt like he was back in school, riding with the one friend who'd had his own car, trying to find the upperclassman who'd buy them a six-pack and not rat them out.
"Did you play football in school?" He asked as he eased the Mustang out of Mike's parking lot.
Mitchell looked surprised. "Yeah, in high school. Wasn't good enough to play in college, but I didn't care. By then I knew I wanted to join the Air Force and fly anyway."
Daniel just smiled.
"Turn left up here." Cam pointed out the windshield.
Daniel furrowed his brows. "You live east."
"It's early, Jackson. Turn left."
"Why?"
"Jackson." Cam turned a long-suffering glance on him. "Do you have to question everything?"
Daniel shrugged. "Yes." He glanced at Cam. "Surely you already knew that."
Cam just shook his head, but Daniel turned left. Cam led him up several familiar mountain roads, and Daniel knew instantly where they were going. He pulled onto the gravel road leading to the bluff looking out over the city. "How easy do you think I am?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "You do know what the kids use this place for around here, right?" He was well versed with the curves and dips in the unpaved road, having been recruited more than once to drive up here with Janet when Cassie was going through a difficult teenage period and staying out late with boys.
"It's a school night, Jackson. Trust me, we'll have it all to ourselves."
Daniel gave him a curious glance, but as they drove up to the leading edge and looked out over the city lights, he forgot about it. It was a beautiful sight. It wasn't a city with the scope or the skyline of New York or Los Angeles or even Denver, but it had its own charm and it didn't feel as overwhelming and empty as some.
They got out and Mitchell cracked open another beer, shedding his boots and sliding up onto the hood of his car. He leaned back against the windshield and sipped from the can. Daniel watched him for a moment and then rested his hip against the front side panel of the Mustang and folded his arms across his chest. Maybe Mitchell did need to talk... Maybe this was the build up. He waited patiently and stared out over the city.
Cam finished one beer and started another before he started talking. "I'm sorry you didn't get to go to Atlantis," he said, quietly. "I mean... I wanted you to stick around, but I know how much you wanted to go, and I think if things had happened differently you'd probably be there right now. In spite of me, that is."
Daniel thought about that a moment. He'd been furious at first, but later... He gave a shrug. "Maybe."
"It's just... been a rough couple of months, and I didn't get the chance to tell you before. But I am sorry."
"Thanks." He watched as Cam gave a curt nod and settled back, beer can resting on his stomach, eyes a little sleepy and gazing out over the field of lights. "Honestly? If I can't go to Atlantis then this is where I want to be."
"Glad to hear it."
Daniel hesitated and then took the plunge. "What about you?"
"Hm?"
"How are you doing... with all of this?"
Cam shrugged, lifting his can to his mouth and taking a deep draw. "Okay. It's definitely not a regular day at the office yet, but a year ago I was struggling to even piss by myself, so... by comparison? It's a fucking cake-walk."
"You came back really quick. Really quick."
Cam gave a pensive nod. "Damn right."
"There's more to recovery than just the physical aspect."
Cam finally turned his head to look at him. "What are you saying, Jackson? You think I'm nuts?"
Daniel grinned. "Well... you were offered your choice of assignment, and you chose to fight aliens with SG-1."
Cam smiled, but wryly. "Please... as if half the world wouldn't choose the same thing."
Daniel sobered. "Not once they saw everything we had to go through, everything we had to do and the people we had to lose. It takes a toll. A big toll. And we can't even tell anyone about it..."
Cam quieted, growing thoughtful, and he slid a hand beneath his head. Daniel watched him and felt a pang of envy. Mitchell always seemed effortlessly comfortable with himself. In the way he talked, moved, dressed... everything. Even resting on the car hood he sprawled in an easy confidence, relaxed and yet somehow managing to look ready and able. His T-shirt wasn't too tight or fitted. His belt buckle was tarnished and cocked off to the side, yet it still managed to look fashionable. His jeans fit him like they were made specifically for him, not tight but not loose, masculine. He had an ease in his own skin that Daniel still couldn't manage some days, despite years of change from a floppy-haired geek to a strongly built soldier.
In the silence, Daniel walked around and slid up onto the car hood, sitting next to Cam’s feet, careful to keep his boots clear of the metal. He motioned at Cam to pass his can over, and Cam leaned forward with a grunt and gave it up freely. Daniel took a long, cool drink and then passed it back. He still had to drive them home. Cam took it and drank without wiping the top. As they watched the lights, Cam's bent knee, propped up on the hood, gradually rested more and more solidly against Daniel's side. Daniel turned slightly and glanced back at him but didn't move away.
"I thought after flying jets for so many years that a Mustang would pale in comparison.," he teased.
Cam stared up at the stars for a moment in thought, and then, "You can't feel the speed when you're in the air. Think of an airplane. You can only really feel how fast you're going when the wheels are in touch with the ground." He jerked his head toward the sky. "Up there it's more like you're suspended in space. Down here, where the wheels meet the ground, it's much more... " He frowned, trailing away.
"Visceral?" Daniel offered.
Cam nodded slowly. "Yeah. You can really feel how fast you're hurling your body along. You can see the trees whipping past. Up there, you don't feel that same sensation." He swallowed. "Not until you see the ground coming up in front of you like a brick wall, and you hit. And it turns you inside out..." His voice trailed off.
Daniel watched as Mitchell faded away from him into the past. Into the arctic snow. He grabbed Cam's knee, shaking it slightly. "Hey, still okay?"
Mitchell shifted his gaze to him, and Daniel could see the blue of his eyes even in the darkness. "Yeah." He paused. "Didn't get much sleep last night."
"Bad dreams?" Daniel hesitated. "The crash?"
"Always," Cam answered with a shrug. "Don't think that'll ever go away."
Daniel nodded in agreement. "If you're lucky you'll get killed a few times, or maybe tortured, and then you'll dream about that instead."
It was a testament to the bond of SG-1 that Cam found that funny and laughed. To anyone else it would have sounded callous or just plain mean. But to SG-1... there was always a dark edge to their humor. You couldn't ignore that imminent threat of death and nightmares. When you could die at any time, you learned to deal with it the only way you could, without losing your sanity.
"You know, the next time I have a nightmare, I'm going to call you." Cam smirked at him.
Daniel smiled. "You should."
Cam held his gaze and his smirk faded slowly. It always felt like Cam was searching for more when he stared at you. Daniel glanced away. Cam brought a knee back and then planted a foot in his back and shoved, pushing him off the car's hood. "You need a beer, Jackson. Let's get going."
Daniel turned and put his own smirk on. "Your place or mine?"
"Mine," Cam answered immediately as he slid off the hood and into his boots. "I always feel like a bull in a china shop at your place."
"Yeah, there's a lot of bull in you alright."
Cam shot him a wry glare, and Daniel grinned.
The Mustang rumbled to life again under Daniel's fingers, and he eased the car down the gravel road toward the pavement. It did feel different, he realized, as the ride smoothed out on the real road. When he hit a straight, remote stretch between the mountain and the city, he downshifted and stepped on the throttle. The Mustang began picking up speed, and Daniel could feel each mile per hour as the speedometer climbed. Beside him, Cam shifted in his seat and looked at him.
"You've got 3 miles to risk it, Jackson, and then there's a wicked curve."
Daniel glanced at him, thoughtfully. Normally, he wouldn't... Cam was watching him with glittering eyes. Daniel stepped on the gas, and the car surged forward. He up-shifted and accelerated through third gear, the car racing along the road, the engine-roar growing steadily higher in pitch. Daniel's stomach leapt up into his throat, and his heart pounded. Jesus... we’re flying. The shifter bounced in the gear box as he tried to find fourth gear, and he swore out loud as the car leveled off. A warm hand closed tightly over his, jerking his hand and the shifter to the right and then pulling it straight back into gear. He let off the clutch and hit the gas, gaining speed again.
Cam's hand stayed wrapped around his on the shifter, and Daniel couldn't help the grin that tugged at the edges of his mouth. The street lights were few and far between this far out, and the headlights illuminated their path, the dotted yellow line in the middle of the road a rapid blur as they ate up the pavement. Crashing now would mean instant death, and he could feel every inch, every second, of the car's velocity. It felt distinctly like his body was hurtling through the air at a million miles an hour.
"Fuck," he muttered, finding himself strangely breathless. When he glanced (oh so briefly) over at the passenger seat, Mitchell had his head against the headrest, relaxed except for the smile on his lips.
Daniel found himself wanting to laugh.
++
"Mitchell, no more!" Daniel shoved the can of beer, and the hand offering it, away from him. "It's one in the fucking morning. I'm tired!"
Cam shook his head in disappointment and took a swig of the beer himself. "Jackson, you're letting me down!"
Daniel laid the video game controller down and collapsed back against the sofa, reaching up to rub at his eyes. "Go to bed already. I'll crash here."
"One more game."
Daniel turned to stare at Cam, his vision swimming a bit as the alcohol in his system sloshed over his senses. "I can't even keep track of the score anymore. I keep making my little guy punch himself and run into the wall."
Cam gave a snort of laughter at that.
Daniel shoved at him. "Go to bed."
Cam didn't move. He took another sip and then stared at the coffee table.
Daniel heaved a long, weary sigh. "What's wrong?"
Cam turned his head and held Daniel's gaze. "Just one more game. Then I might be okay."
"Okay for what?" Daniel really was tired, and beer never agreed with him.
"Okay to sleep. Without dreams."
Daniel stared at him. Cam stared at the television and took another swig, waiting.
"Okay," Daniel finally said, softly. "One more."
Cam handed him the beer.
++
The metal spear was three feet long and as thick around as his wrist. The honed, razor-edged tip was so sharp that he didn't even feel it as it pierced his gut and slid straight through. It only opened the way for the thicker shaft though, and there wasn't so much pain as there was an unyielding pressure. His breath died in his lungs. He stared up at the blue eyes above him. Sam...
No, not Sam. Sam would never do this to him because she loved him. The cruelty in the eyes... Cold. Robotic. Replicator...
He was suffocating.
Daniel came violently awake, whole body jerking up and aching. He couldn't get air! He was dying...
"Jackson!"
Hands were holding him down, and he was straining against them. Oh... fuck, his stomach was in knots...
"Daniel." The voice was calmer. "It was a dream."
He blinked, and then realized he could breathe again. He always could. His stomach was still knotted in anxiety, but the dream faded. He collapsed back against the mattress, fully awake. Cam's worried face appeared above his in the darkness.
"Sorry," he tried to reassure Cam. His voice sounded thick and rough from sleep.
"You okay?"
"Mm." He didn't feel like he could manage words right then. Cam watched him for a moment, hand resting warmly on Daniel's chest. Daniel tasted the stale beer in the back of his throat, and he had fleeting memories of tilting one bottle after another to his lips. Of Cam's laughing face, and then the hazy cloud of drunkenness and collapsing tiredly into Cam's bed, losing consciousness almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
"Let it go and breathe through it," Cam murmured beside him.
Daniel raised a hand to rub at his stomach, feeling the skin whole and uninjured. He looked up. Cam’s hair was tousled, his eyes sleepy, his chest bare. "Thanks." He tried a casual laugh, but it came out sounding thin and strained. “And here we were all worried about you having nightmares tonight.”
"Want to talk about it?"
"No. Same old, same old."
Cam nodded, understanding. "Go back to sleep," he ordered, quietly.
Daniel turned onto his side, feeling the dream slip completely away. Behind him, Cam settled back down, and suddenly pushed an arm around Daniel's side, palm sliding up to rest against Daniel's chest and pull him back tight into the concave warmth of Cam’s solid body. Daniel tightened up for a moment, confused, until the warmth and the security soaked into him. He could feel the hard planes of muscle in Cam's chest against his back, the bulge of Cam’s bicep against his ribs.
"S'okay," Cam mumbled against his hair, and his breath slowed into sleep again, puffing out lightly against the back of Daniel's neck, cooling the misting sweat there.
Daniel sagged back against him, feeling that knot in his stomach finally let go and fade.
It was still a few hours until dawn. Maybe they could both get some sleep. Tomorrow, maybe they'd take a drive...
~end~
++
This is such a pretty pairing...