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And one for good luck!
Five New Year's Resolutions Cam made.
(This prompt was used in January of 2007. You can write sequels and updates to the previous responses, or brand-new responses ... just make sure you post them as comments to this entry. :-))
Participation is open to all. If this is your own prompt, you're free to write to it (please do!). Post your list as a comment to this post, adding additional comments if you exceed the character limit. It's OK to post as Anonymous, then come out later or not as you choose. Responses will be screened until midday U.S. Pacific time January 7 to see what people come up with independently. You can still respond to the prompt after the unveiling, but January 7 is the official due date.
General info and a place to ask questions: the comm 'welcome' post.
Technical-support questions: tech help.
Suggestions: the suggestion box.
To supply a new prompt: the open call for prompts.
Subject-line spoiler warnings for new SGA eps and the SG-1 movies, thanks!
If you're posting a response after the unveiling announcement, please copy the link to your comment, click on the 'set 35' tag, and reply to the post 'Set 35 Unscreened' with the link to your new comment-response. That helps people find and read and comment on responses that weren't there when they cruised through right after the reveal. :-)
Five New Year's Resolutions Cam made.
(This prompt was used in January of 2007. You can write sequels and updates to the previous responses, or brand-new responses ... just make sure you post them as comments to this entry. :-))
Participation is open to all. If this is your own prompt, you're free to write to it (please do!). Post your list as a comment to this post, adding additional comments if you exceed the character limit. It's OK to post as Anonymous, then come out later or not as you choose. Responses will be screened until midday U.S. Pacific time January 7 to see what people come up with independently. You can still respond to the prompt after the unveiling, but January 7 is the official due date.
General info and a place to ask questions: the comm 'welcome' post.
Technical-support questions: tech help.
Suggestions: the suggestion box.
To supply a new prompt: the open call for prompts.
Subject-line spoiler warnings for new SGA eps and the SG-1 movies, thanks!
If you're posting a response after the unveiling announcement, please copy the link to your comment, click on the 'set 35' tag, and reply to the post 'Set 35 Unscreened' with the link to your new comment-response. That helps people find and read and comment on responses that weren't there when they cruised through right after the reveal. :-)
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2. call or e-mail his parents more
3. date more
4. get in touch with some old friends
5. play less video games
#2 is the only one he'll end up keeping
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1. That he will kick Teal’c’s ass in sparring. Genuinely kick it, none of the pity submission holds Teal’c has pretended work on him when he loses interest in continuing. (He made this resolution last year, too.)
2. That he will at all times be aware of the location of his pants and at no time will be involuntarily separated from them. Unless there’s a pretty girl involved, in which case the first half of the resolution still holds true. Further, that he will have a spare pair of BDU pants in his pack at all times, such that can be used to substitute any misplaced pants before Sam Carter finds out about it.
3. That he will at all times be aware of the location of his teammates and at no time will be involuntarily separated from them. No matter which one decides to go off half-cocked, no matter what piece of Ancient technology is involved, and no matter which one has a fully cooked death-wish, it is not happening this year.
4. That he will at some point separate Jackson and Vala from their pants and lock them in some kind of enclosed space from which they cannot escape and force them to address the inevitable. It might make them mad, but they both seem to get off on that, so really he’s vowing to initiate foreplay for them. And he doesn’t believe that they’ll fight any more or less after getting it over with, so really he can’t lose. (Note to self: Check plan repeatedly for possibility of still losing.)
5. That he will at some point lock himself in an enclosed space with a pretty girl and initiate the voluntary removal of all pants involved, because damn, it’s been too long.
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3: Awww.
5: Poor guy! *pets him*
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These are great, really enjoyed them.
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Well, You Didn't Make It Easy (1/4)
SG-1 // Cameron/Daniel // NC-17 // 2800 words
For Five New Year's Resolutions Cam Made at
1. Don't jump your archaeologist.
An eight-month dry spell would make anybody look good to Cam; he'd been through enough celibate stretches to know how that felt. Like most of them, this wasn't by choice--there was the crash and the physical therapy, first off, and then just being so damned busy with SG-1--and hell, he'd field-tested the gear himself, and it all still worked, so it wasn't like he had something to prove, right?
Yeah, but. There was the I'm-only-human twitch of interest a guy got in his dick when seeing someone covered over with sweat from a workout (or, for that matter, Vala in her leather whenever), and there was repeating over and over, get your eyes off the man's shoulders, son, forcing himself not to look at Jackson like he was a cool drink of water and Cam was thirsty as all hell.
Parched or not, the last thing Cam wanted was to fuck up his brand-new team by putting the moves on one of them. That was the sort of thing you couldn't take back if it went wrong, and it'd lead to a hell of a lot of distraction if it went right.
If he spent a lot of time thinking about Jackson's ass while he was jerking off, well, that was a long way away from actually doing anything about it. Man couldn't help who he got a hard-on for; what he could help was what he did about it.
Jackson wasn't military, but Cam sure as hell wasn't gonna ask him and wasn't gonna tell him, and that, he decided, would be that. He hadn't gotten the hang of looking away before Jackson started looking back, yet, but he'd pick it up sooner or later. So far, all he'd gotten from Jackson was a curious expression, the same kind of thing Jackson directed at old books and wall carvings. Nothing to worry about. It'd sort itself out eventually.
2. Don't let Vala pick who's participating in the "bonding ritual".
"Oooh, me!" Vala said, holding up her hand and batting her eyelashes at the Nualivan medicine man.
He gave her a sorrowful look and shook his head. "No, you cannot, I fear. The bonding ritual is for men only."
"Oh." Vala pouted for a moment, then eyed Jackson, then Cam. "All right, but do we get to watch?"
"All may watch."
Cam frowned, and Jackson glanced back at him. Vala was beaming again, though, and she pointed at both of them. "Daniel volunteers."
"Wait a--"
"And so does Cameron."
"No, hold on, I--"
"So be it," said the medicine man. He walked over to Jackson and Cam and put a hand on each of their shoulders. "The bonding ritual begins."
Twenty minutes later, Cameron was dressed according to the ritual, which was to say he was butt-ass naked. He was also stretched out flat on his back and trying to remember that smell in his garage--no mental image of unattractive desk-bound generals in bikinis was going to save him this time. Jackson, wearing the same ritual birthday suit, was bending over him, painting symbols on his chest and chanting in Nualivan, and Cam knew he'd have jerkoff material for weeks if he could just get through this without humiliating himself.
He made it all the way until Jackson painted a squiggly little curve under his navel, and then he grunted and closed his eyes and held his breath. Jackson paused, and when Cam got his eyes open, Jackson was giving him a wry grin.
"Well, I did wonder how I was going to fit seven symbols on that," he murmured.
"Just hurry the hell up already."
Jackson didn't; there was a rhythm to each of the symbols, a specific length of time each one was supposed to take, and by the time Jackson was finished, Cam wasn't the only one who could fit seven symbols down his dick.
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Well, You Didn't Make It Easy (2/4)
He made it a point to ask Jackson out for a beer, after they got home. Jackson sounded cranky when he turned Cam down, and Cam agonized for a day or two about whether Jackson had thought he'd been asking for more than that beer. He'd thought he'd been perfectly clear about it--"it'd take more than some funky alien paint job to make us act weird with each other, right?"--but who the hell knew what Jackson thought about things like alien paint rituals? Maybe he just wanted to remember it and get it down in his mission reports in peace.
3. For God's sake, don't drink unidentified booze out of a horn. Also: Do not let Jackson drink said unidentified booze.
Jackson relaxed and happy was an unfamiliar sight. Cam liked it--more than he'd admit in public, that was for sure--and he plopped himself down on the ground, elbowing Jackson in the ribs once he got there.
"I can see why y'all like this place," he said. Jackson handed him the horn full of whatever-in-hell, and Cam shrugged and took a swig. It went down smoother than he'd expected; it tasted like a good beer and had an after-the-fact kick like a hit of neat scotch. He expected a cough to come any second; when it didn't, he raised both eyebrows and looked into the horn. "How much of this stuff have you had?"
"Enough," Jackson said. He nudged Cam's shoulder with his own and took the horn back. "Well, not enough, the horn's not empty."
"I can help with that."
"Uh-uh. Get your own."
Cam shrugged and made his way over to the buffet tables, nodding and smiling at everybody he passed--it was nice, for once, to be on a planet full of people who were sane and friendly, and who didn't want to kill them, strip them, steal from them, or sell them into slavery. He managed to find his own horn full of beer-scotch-whatever, and he took it back to Jackson, who stood up--wobbling only a little--once Cam got there.
"Going somewhere?" Cam asked.
"I think we'd better get a tent before they all fill up."
"Sam and Teal'c probably have one--"
"Trust me," Jackson said, and he led Cam off to a tent on the outskirts of the celebration. It was quiet, it was warm enough, there was room for two; Cam took a few long drinks out of his horn, ignoring the way it made the tent spin just a little, and he undid the laces on his boots one-handed, pushing his boots off as soon as he could.
"Oh, damn, that feels good," he mumbled, wriggling his toes. "You don't mind, do you?"
"No." Jackson polished off what was left in his horn and set it aside, unlacing his own boots and kicking them aside. Somewhere along the way he'd gotten a flashlight out, turned it on; most of the light was buried in the blankets, but there was enough illumination to let him keep an eye on Jackson as he drank.
He kept watching Jackson as his horn went from mostly-full to three-quarters full to half-full (a lot less than half-full, now that he thought about it, given the way volume of a cone worked), and at the halfway point he offered it to Jackson again. "You want some more?"
"No," Jackson said, and he moved closer, giving Cam just enough time to think wait, what the fuck before he fucking bit Cam's shoulder.
Cam dropped the horn, booze spilling over the blankets, and jerked away. "Jackson--"
"Mitchell," Jackson said, grabbing Cam by the front of his shirt and levering him onto his back. "So you know who I am. And I know who you are. We're one up on most of the people in these tents."
Jackson was stretching out all over Cam, pushing a thigh between Cam's legs, and Cam groaned, eyes closing. "You are so piss-fucking-drunk," Cam groaned. "And you're gonna hate the both of us in the morning. Get off me."
"Believe it or not, yalatta wine doesn't lead to hangovers," Jackson said, bending his head down and biting the side of Cam's neck.
From:
Well, You Didn't Make It Easy (3/4)
"Back off," Cam said quietly. "I'm asking you as a friend. Please."
Jackson gave him an odd, puzzled look--the kind of expression he got on his face when a translation turned up exactly the phrase he wasn't expecting--and he nodded. "I'll see where Sam and Teal'c got off to."
As soon as his footsteps faded out into the distance, Cam took advantage of his small pocket of privacy to get his dick out and jerk off--fast, silent, ruthless, remembering Jackson's teeth on his shoulder, on his skin. Jackson was a biter, hell, in a million years Cam never would've guessed that one--
He'd just gotten himself cleaned up when the tent flap at his feet opened and Jackson poked his head in. "Hey," he murmured. "Sam and Vala and Teal'c are about all that tent can hold without exploding. Will you kill me in my sleep if I stay with you?"
"Naw," Cam murmured back. "You're safe with me."
Jackson smiled--it didn't quite reach his eyes--and reached for the flashlight he'd left behind. He turned it off, and in the morning, Cam was startled--and grateful--that Daniel had been telling the truth about yalatta wine and its miraculous lack of hangovers.
He sure as hell wasn't going to touch the stuff again, though.
4. Posing as a teammate's husband had damn well better only go so far.
It wasn't Cam's fault, goddamnit. He'd followed Jackson's lead, he'd done everything Sam and Jackson told him to do on P2G-108, he'd kept his eyes lowered, he hadn't asked for seconds at dessert.
And still some councilman bozo had decided Cam would make a good husband for his daughter, and now Jackson was talking a mile a minute trying to explain why that just wasn't gonna happen. Cam had tried to step in on his own behalf, but it'd done more harm than good--bringing himself to the attention of the interested parent just was not a good idea at all--and finally he'd been shoved out of meeting room altogether.
He leaned up against one of the marble pillars here in the entryway and sighed. A few minutes later, Jackson stepped out of the meeting room and walked over to Cam.
"Tell me I didn't just fuck up this planet for us altogether," Cam pleaded.
"You didn't just fuck up this planet for us altogether," Jackson said.
"Thank God."
"The councilman was very disappointed to hear that you're already married."
"I--uh, okay, of course. My wife's back on Earth and all, but--"
"Husband," Jackson corrected. "Or, actually, not exactly a husband, um, more of--their word for it is kel'mish. It's an arrangement where one man pledges himself to another, and his kel'mish can assign him wives if he wants, but ultimately, the kel'mish is in control of the day'mish's other relationships--"
"But the point is I don't have to marry anybody's daughter. Right?" Cam prodded. When Jackson didn't say anything, Cam gritted his teeth. "Right?"
"No..." Jackson pursed his lips. "But."
"Oh, hell, there's always a 'but'--"
"In order to prevent them from taking offense, your kel'mish is going to have to turn it down for you."
"Okay. Uh." Cam's eyebrows twitched up. "Who's my kel'mish?"
"That would be me."
Cam sucked in a breath so hard he ended up coughing. "Okay. Okay, fine. So you tell them I can't get married to anybody else, and--"
"Well, we actually tell them."
"'We' tell them," Cam repeated, eyes narrowing. "What's that involve, exactly?"
When Jackson didn't answer, Cam groaned and covered his face with one hand. "Just how many people do we have to do this thing in front of?"
"I love how you're assuming the worst--"
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Well, You Didn't Make It Easy (4/4)
"We don't have to have sex. But I like the image of the Tau'ri as the galaxy's prude spinster aunt."
"Oh." Cam frowned. "Okay. Then what?"
And that was how Cam found himself on his knees, with Jackson's hand on the back of his neck, squeezing harder than Cam thought was strictly necessary in order to sell this little act. He listened while Jackson said all the words that were apparently necessary, and he stayed quiet while everyone nodded, the councilman looked disappointed, and Jackson--bastard--scratched his fingernails down Cam's neck and just under his collar.
It took weeks before he could take a shower while Jackson was in the room. At first, he'd been afraid it'd play hell with their workouts, but Jackson had picked up the habit of showering at home lately, so no worries there. Post-mission cleanup, well, he'd discovered a couple dozen little excuses to either get into the showers fast or dawdle while Jackson was finishing up himself, and nobody seemed to pay it any mind. He'd lucked out on that.
5. Save the fighting for things that are actually bad (Goa'uld, the Ori, Clemson), and stop protesting when things you actually want fall into your lap.
Jackson was standing on Cam's doorstep, a six-pack in one hand and a grocery sack in the other, and Cam raised both eyebrows at him. "What's all this?"
"I hear there's some kind of big game today. I thought I'd make guacamole."
Cam blinked. "You want to watch the Carolina/Clemson game?"
"Mostly I just felt like beer and guacamole." Jackson grinned. "You can always send me away if you want..."
"Oh, hell no," Cam said, "Mama Mitchell didn't raise any fools. You're early, though, the game's not starting for another hour."
He led Jackson inside, down the hallway to the kitchen; Jackson put his grocery sack down and stashed his beer in the fridge. "Hey, say that again," he said, leaning up against the counter.
"Uh, which part? Game doesn't start for another hour, or--"
"Hmm, no--the part about your mother not--"
"Raising any fools?" Cam grinned. "I wouldn't turn down--"
"Well, I was hoping not," Jackson said, and he pushed right into Cam's space, held him tight against the counter, and kissed him. Cam groaned, tried to reach up and push Jackson back a step, but Jackson grabbed him by both wrists and pinned him down. It was a pretty even match, except it seemed like every inch of Jackson wanted Cam right where he was, and only about half of Cam was willing to fight.
When Jackson finally pulled back, Cam took a deep breath. "Hell," he whispered.
"Bad hell or good hell?"
"Oh, good hell. Definitely going to the good hell."
Jackson kissed him again; this time Cam kissed back. Jackson finally let his wrists go; Cam let himself reach out and get a handful of Jackson's ass, two hands full, as he rocked forward.
"I was about ready to break out a two-by-four," Jackson murmured.
"My head's pretty thick," Cam said, resting his head against Jackson's shoulder and trying--oh, and it was so damn hard, no pun intended--not to just squeeze Jackson's ass and rock up until he came in his pants. "You might not've gotten anywhere that way."
"I had a feeling. You said we had an hour?"
Cam checked the clock on his microwave; it was only after he'd confirmed it--"yeah, an hour and ten minutes"--that he groaned at himself. Getting laid should really have been a higher priority than a football game, but hell, Carolina/Clemson--which Jackson knew when he came over, that sneaky son of a bitch--
"I can work with an hour." Jackson stepped back and started pulling Cam in the direction of Cam's bedroom. "It's not like you're going anywhere afterwards."
And Cam had to admit that no, he wasn't.
-end-
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Cam tries so, so hard to be a good guy, a stand-up guy, the right guy for the job and the right guy for his team, but I love that he has a sense of humor about himself and doesn't always take everything seriously. *pets him* :)
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I'd quote my favorite part but so much of it made me smile. Sealing all diplomatic agreements with sex...hah!
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hell, he'd field-tested the gear himself LOL! Nice phrasing!
Totally enjoyed this. :-)
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Five New Year's Resolutions Cam made - UPDATED
2. Wipe out the last remaining System Lords. Still working on it.
3. Keep the Wraith away from this galaxy. Still working on it.
4. Lose five pounds. Actually gained five pounds, but who cares.
5. Be a better lover. Not hearing any complaints.
1. I hereby resolve to wipe that smirk off your face... ooh! You wanna play dirty? I'll show you dirty....
*time elapses*
Nope, no complaints.
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*g*
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