|your misfortune and none of my own
Follows immediately on the heels of And If The Answer's No, Can I Change Your Mind?.
This isn't where Cam thought he would end up. This isn't what he thought he'd end up wanting.
He thought he'd end up wanting something ordinary -- a pretty girl with an office job, someone to come home to as though his job didn't take him halfway across the galaxy three times a week. Someone Midwestern and pretty in the corn-fed way the girls at his high school were. Something normal.
But the thing is, he's read all of the reports and he knows SG-1's facts and figures, if not their secrets and truths. They've never been ordinary. He doesn't know why he thought he'd end up any different.
Cam knows that if Vala had her way, they'd all just strip down butt-ass naked and roll around until everyone was satisfied, for their own personal definitions of satisfied. Standing frozen in Jackson's living room, he almost wishes it was that easy, because while he's got some answers -- yes, they want me, yes, they want me together, yes, I want them -- they're not nearly answers enough, and this isn't easy. It's never going to be easy.
Nobody mentioned to him that SG-1 was going to be the exact opposite of easy, either, and he doesn't know why he assumed it would be.
He can feel Vala's eyes on the back of his neck, and there's something that's warm and affectionate in the way she's looking at him, underneath the predatory look she always wears. And Jackson's sitting on the couch, elbows propped on his knees and glasses loose in one hand, looking at Cam with a face that's so wide open, Cam knows he should know what Jackson's thinking about.
But he doesn't, and the only thing he can do is stand there and wait for their current to take him wherever it's going to take him.
Vala pushes past him, leans over to give Jackson a smacking kiss, and waltzes into the kitchen. Cam stays frozen at the doorway, staring at Jackson while Jackson stares back. Or doesn't stare back -- Jackson's not staring, he's assessing, and Cam stands still and lets Jackson look at him because he can't think of anything else to do. When Jackson's looked his fill -- and what was he looking for, Cam wonders -- he puts his glasses back on and tilts his head to the side, just a little. "Mitchell," he says, "you don't have to stay just because she brought you up here."
"No," Cam says. "I mean -- it isn't -- I mean, I want to."
"Okay," Jackson says, and take his glasses back off, tossing them on the table in front of him. Cam's always thought that Jackson was blind as a bat without his glasses, but either he's not or he knows his own apartment well enough (Cam doesn't know how Jackson knows his own apartment that well, because from what Cam can tell, Jackson spends about one night every two weeks there) that he can navigate his way to Cam without running into anything.
Jackson stands in front of him, close enough that Cam could reach out and touch him if he wasn't still frozen, and without his glasses, Jackson's face looks more open. Younger. He looks like a stranger to Cam, and like someone so completely familiar Cam can't believe he doesn't know all of Jackson's secrets.
Vala is rattling glasses against each other in the kitchen, singing something to herself, and it's the only noise in the place besides their breathing. Cam stands there, trying to will his muscles to relax, to unclench, and Vala emerges from the kitchen with a bottle of wine in one hand, three glasses in the other, and a corkscrew clenched between her teeth. Jackson doesn't say anything, and Cam doesn't say anything. She deposits them on the table and disappears again, down the hallway, and a door opens and closes behind her.
Cam says, "Okay, so." His voice is loud in the silence, and he realizes that there's some music playing in the living, quiet enough that he'd never have noticed if he'd been able to force himself to say something other than okay, so.
Jackson reaches out and puts a hand on Cam's side, his fingers hot even through Cam's uniform jacket, and says, "Unless you want to stand in the doorway all night ..."
"Yeah," Cam says, but he doesn't move. If he sits down on the couch, if he drinks a glass of wine or one of the beers he knows Jackson keeps in the fridge for O'Neill's rare visits and for Cameron, then he's making a decision. Cam's the only one of them who drinks beer regularly, and the few times they've been to Jackson's place for a team night, the fridge has always been full of Shiner Bock, which is hard to find in the Springs and which is also Cam's favorite beer ever; Cam doesn't know how Jackson figured out what Cam's favorite beer was, but he also doesn't know why he hadn't noticed that Jackson had noticed and remembered.
He doesn't want to make a decision.
Jackson's hand is still wrapped around Cam's ribs, and neither of them moves.
Vala waltzes back into the living room, wearing a button-down shirt two sizes too big for her and very little else. She looks them both up and down and says, "Well, we can do this there, but I'm not sure there's enough wall in the doorway to fuck against."
Jackson laughs, and his fingers tighten, gently, against Cam's side.
Cam takes a deep breath, thinks that Jackson's firm grip on his side doesn't feel strange, doesn't feel unnatural, feels perfectly like what he wants, and steps into the living room.
Vala uncorks the wine with a flourish and a twist that shows a glimpse of cleavage beneath the shirt she's wearing, and settles into an armchair. Cam's fingers feel stiff and awkward as he tries to strip out of his uniform coat -- Vala's in practically nothing at all and Jackson's in a t-shirt that declares him property of the US Air Force and jeans, and he's still buttoned up to his neck, sweating from nerves and all the layers of clothing he's wearing.
Jackson's got a glass of wine in his hand, nodding absently at Vala's chatter about the game, when he looks up and notices Cam. "God, I'm sorry," he says. "Is there -- you want a pair of sweats?"
"He has clothes in the backseat of his car," Vala says cheerfully, and it's true -- he did a couple of loads of laundry at the place around the corner from his apartment before changing into his uniform and picking her up from the Mountain, and the hamper's still in the backseat.
Cam's subconscious says, nearly as cheerfully as Vala, guess you were planning on not going home.
"Uh, yeah," Cam says. "I -- I'll just go get something to --"
"No, I'll go," Vala says, leaping up. "You might escape from us while you're down there."
Jackson raises his eyebrows at Vala, who looks down at her shirt and bare legs, and makes a face at him. "There's beers in the fridge, Mitchell," Jackson says, sliding his glass onto the table, holding a hand out for Cam's keys -- Cam hands them over without even thinking -- and padding quietly toward the door. Jackson doesn't ask if there's anything specific Cam wants out of the laundry in the car, which is just another reminder that Jackson's a guy and Jackson's a guy who for all intents and purposes lives with a woman, and this is not what Cam thought his life was going to be like.
The door opens and closes quietly behind Jackson, and Vala looks Cam up and down, speculatively, his uniform jacket hanging half open, his dick half hard in his pants and getting harder every second she looks at him like that.
"Mmmm," Vala says, around a mouthful of wine. Cam can't tell if it's a noise that means she likes what she sees, or just a noise to fill the silence.
He shrugs his jacket off and stands in the living room with it clutched in his hand. Cam's stuck in some kind of weird alternate universe, where he can't move unless someone tells him to, and these are two people he likes, and wants, and desires, and they seem to like and want and desire him, too.
It's what he wanted -- wanted to be part of the team, wanted to not be the new guy, wanted to be part of something -- but he's not sure what path he took to get here.
Certainly not one of the ones that was clearly marked.
"Closet in the hall," Vala says, and unbuttons another button on the shirt. Cam can see the curve of her breast under the shadow of the cloth, and he want to wrap his hand around it, wants to put his mouth there. He shakes himself out of his freeze and hangs the jacket up, strips his undershirt off, unlaces his boots and peels off his socks. He leaves his pants on.
When he walks back into the living room, Vala has hung her head over the back of the chair, watching him carefully, and she says, "Mmmmm," again, and this time it's an appraising noise, a pleased noise. "Come here," she says, and Cam can move if someone tells him what to do, so he goes, and she reaches a hand out backwards, pulling him closer. Her fingers are cold against his skin where Jackson's were warm, and she pulls, gently, until he kneels down on the floor and his face is at the level with hers, and then she kisses him.
She tastes like red wine and the salt from her popcorn, and her hand curls around Cam's neck. Vala still has her wine in one hand, and the glass is cool like her fingers, resting against the back of Cam's wrist when he reaches out a hand to run his thumb along the curve of her breast. She makes a pleased, breathy noise into his mouth and kisses him harder, her fingers carding through the hair at the back of his skull.
The front door opens and closes again, and Cam jerks away from Vala like he's been caught kissing someone else's wife. Which he has, in a way, and he's scrambling backwards and wishing he was still wearing a shirt, except Jackson says, sounding mild and amused, or maybe even turned on, "Don't stop on my account."
Jackson's leaning in the doorway, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt in his hands. Cam straightens up, leans back toward Vala and watches Jackson's eyes darken, pupils dilating slowly, until Cam has to pull his eyes off Jackson's face. He focuses on the clothes Jackson's holding -- Cam knows, from the way the collar of the t-shirt is torn, that it's the State football t-shirt he bought with a crumpled twenty dollar bill his first week on campus as a freshman. He wonders why Jackson picked that shirt out -- the shirt Cam wears when he feels too far from North Carolina, from a life that makes sense -- or if it was just the first shirt on the pile.
Cam says, "I don't want to ... step on anybody's toes."
"There's no toes involved, darling," Vala says, and she reaches out for Cam. He means to pull away, because there's one tiny piece of his brain left that says he can still get out of this, but the rest of his brain (and his body) are not on the get-out-of-here-alive plan at all, and instead of moving away, Cam finds himself leaning into her touch. "There's no toes involved yet," she amends, a leer in her voice and her hand skimming down Cam's chest, dragging fingernails over his nipple. He suppresses a shudder, fails miserably, and she drags her nails over his chest again.
He thinks, All in.
Cam kisses Vala again, while her fingers are still roaming across his chest, and Jackson makes a pleased, hungry sound across the room. All the blood that's not pooling in Cam's dick is pounding in his ears -- he can feel his heart racing in his chest -- but even over that noise, over all the clamor in his head, he can hear Jackson moving around the room, footsteps carrying Jackson closer to them.
Cam feels Jackson standing beside him without opening his eyes, without breaking away from Vala's kiss -- Jackson's jeans brush Cam's bare shoulder when he reaches out to take the wine glass from Vala's hand, Jackson's shadow falls across Cam's face when Jackson leans toward Vala to murmur something in her ear.
Cam can't try and make himself believe that this is just about Vala and him, because it isn't, whether or not that fact freaks him out. Cam knows he's attracted to Jackson, but knowing something ain't the same as doing something, like Cam's grandma used to say, and pretending that this wasn't taking him into deeper water than he was used to treading was a lie.
They've been here before, but that time on the car -- no matter how much Cam's thought about it, thought about Vala's breasts and Jackson's mouth -- isn't the same as taking this step. Cam wants to take the step, but it's not as easy as he wants it to be.
But Jackson and Vala don't seem to be letting Cam drown, and when Jackson pulls away from Vala, he runs a hand across Cam's shoulders, and Cam knows, fact and truth, that it feels as good as it did when Vala touched him.
So all in, deep water and all.
Vala kisses him lazily, hands roaming across his chest, and Cam follows her cues. He's kissing the side of her neck, trapped awkwardly against the arm of the couch but oh, her skin is so smooth, when he hears Jackson padding down the hallway, a door opening but not closing behind him. Jackson's footsteps come back toward them as Cam's working on the few buttons on the shirt that Vala bothered to do up. Cam is licking the exposed curve of Vala's breast while he undoes buttons, and Jackson's knees press against Cam's back when Jackson leans over him to kiss Vala.
Jackson slides one hand along the side of Vala's neck, fingers tightened in her hair, and the other hand along Cam's jawline. It's awkward and Cam's knees hurt -- and somehow, ten minutes spent kissing Vala, Jackson's blue eyes dilated wide with lust, their casual inclusion, their casual desire, all of that outweighs the awkwardness, on about six different levels, of the situation.
Jackson shifts, and his mouth is suddenly pressed against Cam's ear, Jackson's broad chest -- between the living room and the bedroom, Jackson's ditched his shirt somewhere -- pressed against Cam's back. Jackson's voice is low, hoarse with need, when he says, "You really want to tell Sam how you threw your back out, or you want to take this somewhere else?"
"Uh," Cam says. He shifts, trying to relieve the pressure of his uniform pants on his dick. Class B's weren't meant for getting hard-ons, and Cam's dick is desperate for relief.
Jackson laughs, low, and in the seconds when Cam's been distracted by Jackson's chest and by his own dick, Vala's wriggled out of the chair and she's standing in the hallway, shirt unbuttoned all the way and one breast just visible under the line of shadow the table lamp casts on her. "Come on, boys," she says, and gives a little wriggle, the half-empty wine bottle hanging from her fingers. "We've got better things to be doing."
Vala is obviously sexy -- it's campy, sometimes, and overdone, but her affectations are charming, too, and part of her sexiness is the overstated way she displays it. Jackson is -- Jackson's body, the way he grins when he's pleased by something, the way Cam has found himself staring at Jackson in the last weeks (months), it wasn't something Cam expected.
Vala's straight forward and cheerful and sexy on the outside, but Jackson is subtle. It's not overt, but with Jackson's breath on his ear, Jackson's chest plastered to Cam's back, it's not something Cam can deny.
Jackson scrambles to his feet and offers Cam a hand up. Cam takes it, because his knees are hurting and one of his feet's gone to sleep, which is what he gets for making out over the arm of a chair like a teenager at a party. When he gets to his feet, the pins and needles are bad enough that he loses his balance, goes straight over into Jackson. Jackson catches Cam, one hand on Cam's elbow and the other on Cam's back, and while Cam is still off-balance, Jackson kisses him.
Cam can't remember the last time he kissed somebody who was the same height he was, but Jackson is, and it's not as strange as Cam would expect. Jackson needs to shave, and his stubble scrapes against Cam's chin, but that doesn't stop Cam from opening his mouth and taking the kiss deeper, tongue running along Jackson's lower lip. Jackson's fingers tighten on Cam's back and he tugs Cam closer, hips pressed together and the heat in Cam's groin turning up, up, up.
"Mmmm, yes," Vala says from the hallway. Cam and Jackson pull apart and turn to look at her at the same time, and she's got the wine bottle at her lips, a tiny trail of wine dripping down into her cleavage. Cam wants to lick it away -- and when he steals a glance at Jackson, who's still got a hand on Cam's back, he can see it written clearly across Jackson's face that he wants the same thing.
She disappears down the hallway, turning into what Cam assumes is Jackson's bedroom, and Cam follows Vala and Jackson follows Cam. Jackson's fingers slide underneath the waistband of Cam's uniform, his thumb stroking slowly over the small of Cam's back, and when Cam stops in the doorway of the bedroom -- Vala spread out on the bed like a centerfold, shirt fallen away from her chest, nipples peaked in the cool air pouring from the open window -- Jackson slides up behind him, fingers splayed across Cam's belly, chin hooked over Cam's shoulder, mouth against Cam's neck.
Vala crooks her finger at Cam, like something out of bad porn, and Jackson murmurs, "Like what you see?" against Cam's skin. Cameron can't stop the laugh that bubbles up out of his chest, because this whole thing is just strange and hilarious and right, and they've set him up like a cheap house of cards, and now Jackson and Vala are just playing with him -- but not in a bad way.
He laughs, and Jackson laughs, too, and Vala grins broadly at both of them from the bed.
Cam's grandma always said that laughter was the best medicine, and he doesn't think that she meant it to be applied to this kind of situation and he doesn't really want to think about his grandma with Jackson wrapped around him and Vala getting close to naked on a bed in front of him, but she's right: the twist of panic in his stomach that never quite disappeared before this is gone. Not to say it won't be back in the morning, because everything looks different in the sunshine, but right now, it's all good.
"Well, come on," Vala says, and Jackson gives Cam a gentle push into the room before padding back out into the living room. Cam freezes again, just for a minute, watches Vala sprawl like a goddess on the unmade bed, listens to Jackson locking doors and turning off lights in the living room, and then he moves.
He strips off his uniform pants and drapes them on the back of a chair, and he's crawling toward Vala (leave it to Jackson to have a king-sized bed; who was taking up all this space before Vala came along?) when Jackson walks back into the room. Cam winks at him, Jackson raises an eyebrow and starts unbuttoning his jeans, and Cam kisses Vala.
She's warm and soft against his chest, her fingers sliding down his back, one hand squeezing his ass, and when the bed shifts, Jackson sliding onto her other side, Cam moves his mouth to her jaw. Vala turns her head, kissing Jackson and Cam closes his teeth carefully on her pulse point. She squirms against him, her hip pressed against his dick, and he slides down her body, taking his time, appreciating what's laid out before him.
When he closes his lips on a nipple, she writhes even harder, twisting so he has full access to her body without breaking the kiss with Jackson. Cam tugs gently and pulls back, sliding his fingers across her breast slick with his own spit, watching Jackson kiss her like there's no one else in the room. He can't help staring, because it's hot as hell to watch her kiss someone else when Cam himself is practically spread out on top of her, and Jackson doesn't open his eyes but he reaches out toward Cam.
All Jackson can touch is Cam's side, and he runs fingernails across Cam's ribs, which makes Cam shudder against Vala, which makes her shudder in pleasure against Jackson. He'd thought Vala would be as bossy in bed as she is out of it, but she isn't -- at least she isn't now, because she's clearly willing to lie on the bed and be the center of attention, and Cam's happy to make her that. He can't deny his attraction to Jackson, but that doesn't mean he knows what exactly the mechanics of fucking another man actually are.
The thing on the car was a preview -- a dry run, a movie preview of what he's getting now. Cam knows what Vala feels like under his hands, but the time on his car was frantic, something he couldn't avoid or escape. This isn't something he could avoid or escape, either, but it's something he chose to not escape. He picked this, remembered the feel of Jackson's mouth on Cam's neck, of Vala underneath his hands, and chose to do this again, because he wants to.
Cam lets Jackson kiss her. Cam puts his mouth back on her breast and slides a finger, carefully, into her (white, cotton, completely innocent except Vala's never been innocent) panties, and she's already wet. Not that he's slept his way across the globe (across the galaxy) but he's slept with enough women to know what they like, and he finds her clit first try, which earns him another shudder. If he's going to do this, he's going to do this right, and so he sits up and hooks his fingers at the waist of her underwear, sliding them down carefully.
Jackson breaks the kiss when Cam moves, and he's taken his glasses off at some point when Cam didn't notice. Jackson's face is wide open and completely free of all the masks he wears at work, and his pupils are blown huge with lust. Before Cam can slide down Vala's body, Jackson reaches out, pulls Cam into a kiss, and Vala turns her head from Jackson to Cam, closing her own teeth on one of Cam's nipples.
Every fiber in Cam's body is screaming with pent-up desire, and it's all he can do not to come in his underwear right then.
When Jackson's done kissing Cam, which is still a little strange but getting more interesting the more Cam does it, Vala pulls Cam's head down and kisses him, too, while Jackson's hand curls possessively along Cam's hip. It's just a big heap of naked bodies, writhing around in the quest for getting off, so it's pretty much just like Cam thought Vala would like it to be -- only with a little more polite conversation beforehand.
But they've passed the point of polite conversation, and Vala is naked except for the white shirt that's still hooked around her elbows. Cam kisses down her belly, running his tongue over her nipples to hear her gasp, and she hooks a leg over his shoulder as soon as she can.
Cam loves women; loves the way they look, the way they smell, the way they taste, and Vala is no exception. He runs his tongue carefully over her clit, following it with his thumb, and when she shudders and groans at that, he slides a finger inside her, stroking gently. He settles his mouth on her clit, broad strokes of his tongue, and someone's hand twists in his hair. Cam can't tell whose it is, Vala's or Jackson's, but it keeps him from getting lost in the situation, keeps him from falling straight into Vala's cunt and drowning there, even if that's how he'd like to go, drowning in pussy.
She twists and writhes against his mouth, his fingers, and cries out, once, twice, before her moans are muffled, and Cam knows that if he looked up, he would see Jackson kissing her silent, which is an unbelievable, incredible turn-on.
When she starts to clench, to shudder around his fingers, he slides in a second, and a third, his mouth still working her clit as well as he knows how, and when she comes, it's quiet (Jackson kissing her) and sudden. Vala digs her heel into Cam's back and he knows he'll have a bruise in the morning; he can't bring himself to care while she convulses and comes around his hand, against his mouth.
He pulls back, wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, and crawls up the bed. Vala's rumpled, hair everywhere, breasts heaving, and Cam wraps a hand around one before he leans down and kisses her. She hums into his mouth, one of her hands warm against his chest, and Cam almost forgets, kissing Vala, that Jackson is pressed against her on the other side, probably absolutely with a dick as hard as Cam's, which is about as hard as granite.
Cam breaks off the kiss, leaves his hand on Vala's breast, and looks over at Jackson. Jackson's thrown a leg over Vala's thigh, his dick pressed against her hip and his face pressed against Vala's neck. He has a condom tucked between his fingers.
Cam says, "Jackson," because Jackson's eyes are totally blown out of focus, he's not hardly there at all, and Vala's threading her fingers through Jackson's hair, like she's gotten off and doesn't care about anyone else.
Jackson's head jerks, and his eyes focus -- just barely, and Cam's dick throbs with the idea that Jackson's totally turned on from watching Cam go down on Vala, which is just an image so fucking hot that Cam doesn't really know what to do with it -- on Cam's face.
"Use it or lose it, buddy," Cam says, because yeah, he'd like to fuck Vala, but if this is an invitation to what he thinks it's an invitation to, he'll get the chance, and the way the blood keeps rushing to his dick when he thinks about watching Jackson do Vala, he's not going to give that chance up if he can get it here and now.
Somebody'll be willing to get Cam off later, too, since they all seem to be in really giving moods.
Jackson shakes his head like he's got water in his ears, and rips the condom open with his teeth before rolling it on. Cam shifts, letting Vala put half her weight on his chest and giving Cam a perfect shot at her (incredible, amazing, fantastic) breasts, and Jackson squirms until he's rolled the condom on and slid between Vala's legs. When Jackson enters her, she drops her head back onto Cam's shoulder, and Jackson drops his own head down, panting where he's braced himself above both of them.
"Well, go on, darling," Vala says, and Jackson starts to thrust, eyes closed and chin practically against his chest, and every time Jackson thrusts, Vala's hip brushes against Cam's dick, not nearly enough friction. Cam's panting as hard as Jackson, as hard as Vala, by the time a couple of minutes have passed, and he's desperate enough to either come or not come, he can't decide which, that he reaches a hand down and squeezes his cock, hard, just to keep himself from blowing his load all over Vala's hip like a kid.
Vala huffs laughter when she feels his hand move, and twists her own wrist, nudging Cam's hand out of the way and wrapping her own around his dick. "God," Cam says.
"Jesus Christ," Jackson says.
"No, just me," Vala says, and Jackson shudders, starts to laugh, and comes like a freight train, which sets Vala off again, and she tightens her hand around Cam just hard enough, just long enough, that he doesn't shoot his load everywhere.
Jackson moves, rolls off Vala and strips off the condom and tosses it in the trash can. Cam still hasn't gotten off, but Vala's gone limp beside Cam, her head resting on his chest and her hand sliding from his dick to his thigh. Cam knows that it's just bad to form to jerk himself off in this situation, but he doesn't know what the polite thing to say in this situation is, either.
Vala mumbles something, turning her face against his shoulder, and then she turns her face up to him and kisses him, slow and sweet. Cam's thinking about rolling over and putting his dick to good use, but before he can do anything, somebody -- Jackson, because Vala's hands are occupied, one on Jackson's hip and one in Cam's hair, but Cam's got almost no blood left in his head, it's all in his dick, and he can't quite process as fast as he normally does -- settles between Cam's legs, nudging Cam's knees up and apart, wrapping a mouth around Cam's dick.
Cam jerks, because he's surprised, and then Vala's hand on his hip slows, stroking over his skin gently, and she keeps kissing Cam while she twists out of Jackson's way.
If Cam was in his right mind, he'd maybe freak out about the fact that Jackson was a guy, and Jackson was sucking his cock, but the fact of the matter was, Cam didn't really care who was doing what right now, because he's getting his dick sucked and Vala's kissing him, warm and soft and (for once) pliant against his side.
Either Jackson's sucked cock before, or he's just a really fast learner, and it's Jackson -- Cam would put even money either one, and then he can't think anymore because Jackson's swallowed Cam's dick all the fucking way down, and Cam's brains are about to leak out of his ears.
Cam lasts about two minutes, he figures, before Jackson runs the flat of his tongue over the head of Cam's cock, and Cam comes so hard -- he's been waiting so damn long for this, for someone's hands other than his own, for Jackson and Vala, for feeling like he's not still the new guy, though he certainly didn't think that not being the new guy meant this, not that he's complaining -- he sees stars, stops kissing Vala because he forgets how to work his own mouth.
Jackson swallows -- not something Cam had considered about the guy, but given the way Jackson lives off the adrenaline of new experiences, not something that surprised Cam -- and wipes his mouth. He stretches out like a cat, his eyes sleepy and sated, and props his chin on Cam's hip. "God," Cam says.
"Mmmm," Vala says, sounding agreeable, her hum rumbling against Cam's chest.
Jackson doesn't say anything, just watches Cam with those sleepy eyes, and even when he looks well-fucked and rumpled, Jackson still notices more about the people around him than most people who're awake and haven't just fucked an alien and blown an Air Force colonel.
"It's good," Cam says, because right now, after midnight, shades pulled closed and Vala sleepy beside him, it is. It might look different in the morning, but right now, it's good.
Jackson nods, his chin digging into Cam's hip, and Cam grins at him, because he doesn't know what else to do. He doesn't know what else to say, except thank you, which seems a little strange in the situation.
They rearrange body parts until everyone's on the bed; Vala falls asleep between them almost immediately, lamp still lit on the bedside table. She has an ankle hooked around Cam's leg, one arm thrown across Jackson's chest, and she's as beautiful still as she is in motion. Jackson slides out from under grip and shimmies into a pair of boxers before rifling a dresser drawer and tossing Cam a pair of sweats, property of the USAF like the t-shirt Jackson was wearing earlier. When Cam shifts so he can pull them on, Vala moves without waking, rolling onto her side and then onto her stomach, arm still thrown out toward the spot where Jackson was before.
Jackson turns the light out, sudden darkness, and Cam feels the bed shift under Jackson's weight while he tries to untangle the comforter at the end of the bed. A king size bed is big, but not quite big enough for all of them, and Cam almost slides out, thinks about putting on his jeans and his t-shirt and going home to his own empty apartment, but before he can move, Jackson reaches out and clamps a hand on Cam's wrist.
Jackson says, "Stay."
author's notes: title and summary line from mike doughty, "your misfortune". thea did beta duty and syn. encouraged this in the first place. all remaining places it says "john" instead of "cam" are my fault. that's what i get for writing sg-1 fic while watching farscape.