Author's note: takesplace between 9x04 'The Ties That Bind' and 9x05 'The Powers That Be'. Mild language and vague sexuality. Originally written 10/17/06. Requested by/dedicated to the lovely Sarafu, who was kind enough to watch some Stargate after I poked her many, many times.
Cameron had just been idly stopping by, en route to the cafeteria, thinking about bacon and wondering if he could get Jello with breakfast. He had just meant to stick his head in, check and make sure Daniel was still alive, maybe see if he maybe wanted to take a break from reading dusty tome after dusty tome and actually ingest something.
He doesn't know if he should blame Daniel, for being nerdy and one-track-minded, or himself, for still trying to organize a reunion tour. That particular prospect was looking bleaker by the day, so he'd resorted himself to getting Daniel to like and respect him. Or, at the very least, to get Daniel to stop doing that thing where he double-takes every time Cameron talks to him, as though he keeps expecting to see Jack in his place.
While he's at it, maybe Cameron should blame Teal'c, for being back on Dakara for yet another meeting (of course, he's not SG-1 anymore, so Cameron can't hold him here, and even if he was SG-1, it's not like he'd listen to Cameron) and not there to help translate Daniel's bizarre Goa'uld cipher. Cameron of course is no help at all, because all he speaks is English, and he maybe knows three words in Goa'uld (evidence of how bad he is: for a year now, he's been calling it Jaffa-ese), and took French for two years in high school and one in college, but only because he had to take a language to graduate. (The only French he actually knows is the line from that "Lady Marmalade" song, which, he's pleased to note, actually worked once or twice in school.)
And if he's laying blame on everyone, he should include the lieutenant on duty outside of Vala's borrowed quarters, the stone-faced woman twice Cameron's size, who manages to rearrange her expressionless face into a second expressionless face that clearly states she knows Cameron is there for some sort of booty call, and not for official reasons. Or maybe she's just judging him for doing the bidding of a civilian.
He knocks on Vala's door, and she grants him entrance, wearing some distinctly non-military undergarments and a wide grin. Maybe Daniel's used to this sort of behavior from her, but Cameron's sole alien contact has thus far been limited to Teal'c, who, instead of trying to seduce Cameron, has tried to maim him. (Inadvertently, of course. He thinks.) (Also, if he ever saw Teal'c in the tank top/panties ensemble, his eyes would bleed.)
"Daniel wants you," he says, and the words are barely out of his mouth when he thinks they were a bad choice. 'Needs you' is, too; as is 'would like to see you.' There's nothing he can say, actually, that won't get twisted around by her. "He's working on that new cipher, and apparently, you're indispensable."
"I was wondering when you lovely Earthlings would start recognizing my worth," she preens, standing in such a way that he can see all of her best features at once. He asks himself how long she had practiced such a pose to get it perfect, but the thought gets lost as he realizes she has really great legs and he's probably staring. Score one for the alien chick.
"Yeah, well, you'll remember that Daniel's died a couple of times, so he's not all there," Cameron gestures vaguely at his head for emphasis. "His endorsement doesn't mean much." It does carry weight, of course, but he isn't going to say that. And come to think of it, Daniel has yet to actually endorse Vala, but he isn't going to say that, either.
"Unlike some people, Col. Mitchell," and at this, she stabs him in the chest with a finger, "I'm not looking for validation of any sort."
Psych 101 tells him that with her wardrobe and general demeanor, she's looking for something. "Of course you're not. Can we go?"
"I'd love to, but somehow I don't think your general would approve of my outfit." She flourishes in the direction of her... he's going to call it nightwear... and he struggles to remain impassive.
"Then change," he says, and with remarkable restraint, he moves for the door.
"You're just like Daniel," she pouts. "Wouldn't know fun if it came up and bit you."
That's not true, he's the only one on the team (he's determined to continue calling it a team, even though the idea gets lambasted on a regular basis; the power of positive thinking) who has anything resembling a sense of humor about anything. "Whatever," he says petulantly, "I'll be in the hall." Vala already has an escort for that sort of thing, but Cameron needs to feel like he's a little useful.
"Col. Mitchell," she says, and there's something about her voice, unusually low, making him stop with his hand on the doorknob. Or maybe it's her fingers scraping the back of his collar. Or maybe it's just utter lack of common sense altogether. "Do you have a mate, colonel?"
He wants to laugh, because he knows she's choosing the phrasing just to screw with him. She's probably just tired of provoking Daniel all the time, since he seems to have developed an immunity. "No," says Cameron, and adds, mostly to reassure himself of the power in this situation, "not that it concerns you in the slightest."
It's probably more defensive than is necessary, and she picks up on that gleefully. "I admire your dedication to your job," she says, and when he looks at her, her lids are lowered. Cameron severely doubts she admires work ethic of any sort. "But doesn't a man have needs?"
What he wants to do is leave, but Daniel asked him to get Vala, and while he doesn't have an earthly clue why he's doing a favor for a man who can barely even acknowledge his existence, he knows that him storming out will only ensure her victory. If Cameron can't win over this nutjob woman, then he should just pack up and head home. "My needs aren't your concern," he points out, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. He wants to do any of three things: leave, whap her, or something he won't even let himself think about. "Actually, your only concern is doing exactly what you're told, so I don't send you through the 'gate to that frozen tundra planet."
"You wouldn't do that," she assures him with grand cheer. "You can't separate me and Daniel, remember?"
"Yeah, I'll just send him through, too," Cameron says, thinking maybe it's not a bad idea.
Or maybe he'll just send himself, because seriously, he spent a year in the hospital, under the guidance of a personal trainer who reminded him more of his commanding officer at the Academy, thinking about how great it would be once he was at Stargate Command. To think he'd been beside himself when O'Neill consented that he'd "see what he could do" as far as getting Cameron on SG-1 went. Compared to the ideal, the reality is unusually cruel: Teal'c won't talk to him, Daniel won't listen to him, Landry doesn't even like him, and the only one who actually might think he's a contributing member of society comes from another goddamn planet.
He misses Sam. She'd give him some kind of respect, and maybe try to smooth things out with the others (because they'll listen to her), but she's off on the Prometheus, trying to reverse-engineer that sun she blew up, or whatever. He doesn't even know; it's not like she ever calls him. All of that, for this, and he's losing his mind.
Vala sidles up to him with a panther-like gait, sleek and black and fluid like a shadow. One hand is on his shoulder, the other on his hip, and her eyes are focused somewhere around the area of his jaw. "You'd miss me," she says, and he doesn't answer, because she's right. He doesn't trust her, and he's not altogether convinced he even likes her, but she's the only one here treating him like a person, whatever that even means anymore.
He's too busy being bitter and childish to even consider who she is and what she's doing, and that's probably why he doesn't see it coming until it's too late.
She kisses pretty much exactly like he thought she would. That is to say, slippery, but not in a bad way. More like... movement. Vala is sultry, liquid movement, sliding against him, completely in control of her every limb, not to mention his. She's got her hands on his ass, and her tongue so deep in his throat he can't help but think he hasn't been laid in an embarrassingly long time, and he's not entirely certain he even remembers how his dick works. But he figures it's just like riding a bicycle, you just have to get back on the horse—
Mixing his clichés, poor ones at that; he's not thinking clearly.
He's not thinking clearly, and he's glanced twice now in the direction of the bed (in between getting her thick hair caught between his fingers, and kissing her so intensely he could use scuba gear), and he's seriously considering this, on the base, on-duty, with an alien.
She tastes... he wants to say exotic, but it's not the right word, doesn't fully embrace how spicy and foreign she does taste, so after careful experimentation, he determines she's flavored like some moonshine imported from god-knows-what-planet. He feels like he's the one that's drunk, and he's worked too hard and too long to lose all of his credibility for a dalliance with the woman he's been cavalierly referring to as Daniel's girlfriend for the past few weeks. He's supposed to be respectable, or at least responsible, and this is a bad, bad idea. His whorls of his fingertips catch on the scratchy lace hem of her panties, low on her hips, as he pushes her off of him with considerable care. "Put some real clothes on," he says, meaning it, but not really. "This is a military base."
He doesn't know what's changed, but Vala is actually complacent enough to not complain or protest, and does what he says. She's the first person that doesn't have to be coerced into following a suggestion of his, and the notion makes him want to kiss her again. He is losing his goddamn mind in this mountain, he knows he is.
He doesn't leave, but keeps his back turned (or maybe it's the other way around), and he hears the rustling of Vala shimmying into borrowed BDUs. When he finally dares to look at her again, he's meeting her eyes for the first time in minutes, and he can see in her expression that she won't give him up. At least, not until it's useful for her, in which case, he'll be swinging in the breeze. The notion doesn't surprise him in the slightest, but he's grateful that she'll play along for a little while.
When she and Daniel woke up from the alien device coma, Daniel looked at her with an expression Cameron couldn't understand. He read the report, and he knows about the fire, and the guy with the headgear, and the other fire, but no matter how candid and wordy Daniel is in his reports (and he is; it always amused Cameron greatly to read them in the hospital), Cameron knows there is something about that particular mission Daniel is hiding, something pertinent to him, and Vala, and him and Vala.
Cameron doesn't know why he feels allegiance to Daniel —who was ready to leave him behind without a second thought (Sam, at least, would've given him a second thought, he thinks acrimoniously, and misses Sam profusely for the second time that hour), and who doesn't dislike him, but merely doesn't notice or consider him— but there is subtext there Cameron feels he really shouldn't alter (particularly if he ever wants Daniel to start holding him in any esteem).
So far for them, Cameron has sacrificed his dignity, and bits of his self-esteem, and now his libido. But as they return to Daniel's office, Vala leaps upon the good archaeologist, throws her arms around his shoulders (knocking him off-balance), and squeals, "I understand you need me, Daniel darling," and Cameron knows he made the right choice. Maybe not a good choice, not for him, but one that will benefit the team (there's that word again) as a whole. Daniel glances at Cameron and rolls his eyes, and Cameron responds with a commiserating grin, and feels like he's accomplished something.