Archive of Our Own

1.

The first sign of just how weird Cam Mitchell's life was going to be came just after he graduated from the Air Force Academy. He was riding high on life, and with good reason: he had graduated first in his class, had been commissioned as a second lieutenant, and most importantly he was now about to start flight school. There had been a suitably large party for him and the others graduating for their various schools and even after a month cards and letters were still trickling in from around the country.

One envelope in particular came from home, with Momma's handwriting on the outside. Inside he found a second envelope, this one stiff and faded with age with just his name and a date on the outside. It only took him a moment to realize it probably from the dead drop, a filing cabinet full of letters and other items that Momma kept where people could leave messages for their kids or grandchildren or whoever else, just in case they weren't there to say it themselves for whatever reason. Cam had already gotten some, one from his granddad and a whole stack that his daddy had written over the years and had sheepishly handed over when he'd turned eighteen. Inside this particular envelope, he found a letter:

Cam -

Congratulations on graduating from the Academy. I know you'll be a real credit to the Air Force and to the family. There may be some rough spots in your future, but trust me when I say it'll all work out in the end as long as you have faith in yourself and your friends.

Best of luck,

Cameron (Senior)

Cam was mildly bemused to get a letter from his namesake and filed it away for safekeeping. It didn't occur to him until later to wonder why someone who had disappeared at sea in 1939 would know about the Air Force, that he'd be graduating from the Academy this year, or for that matter that he would exist at all.

Trouble found its way to Cam's door shortly after he arrived at Columbus Air Force Base for flight school. He had moved into his new apartment well before he was scheduled to report so that he could get settled in. For a time he had toyed with the idea of living alone and enjoying some space to himself for the first time in his life, but in the end he figured it'd be better if he had someone to split rent and other costs with. He stuck some fliers up around base and it didn't even take a whole day before there was a knock on the door.

"Hey there," said the man Cam found on the other side. He held up a flyer. "Name's John Sheppard. Still looking for a roommate?"

"Cam Mitchell, and yeah, I am," Cam said, shaking John's hand. "Come on in and take a look around."

John poked around the mostly-empty apartment for a few minutes, asking questions about rent, utilities, and whether they'd split the food bill. Only the last seemed to really concern him and, as John sheepishly admitted, he would be more than willing to do all the other chores so long as he didn't have to cook and risk killing them both with food poisoning. Cam was fine with that, as he'd take cooking to cleaning or doing laundry any day. Even better was that John was in flight school as well and more than likely in Cam's own class, which meant there wouldn't be any problems arising from weird scheduling.

It did give Cam a bit of a pause, though. John just didn't seem the sort to be in the military. He had a constant slouch and seemed to saunter around rather than walk; when he came to a stop he'd usually find something to lean against. It made Cam wince just to look at him, imagining the reaction he would have gotten at the academy for that kind of posture. John's hair was pushing the boundaries of regulation as well, because despite being cut short there were still little tuffs sticking up here and there. Only his clothes were somewhat normal, a plain blue polo shirt with open buttons and nice hip-hugging jeans, and his attitude had all the smug, casual arrogance Cam had seen in every pilot he'd ever met.

Not, mind you, that Cam had a habit of watching how other guys walked around or how nice their clothes looked on them, at least not since joining the service. He was just sizing up a possible roommate and colleague, was all.

"Uh, Mitchell?"

Cam blinked and found John looking at him. "Yeah?"

"Is that a yes or a no on the moving in thing?"

"Oh. Yeah, sure. When can you do it?"

John flashed him a brilliant grin. "Now, if that's okay. I've just got here today, all my stuff's still packed in the car."

"What, did you just check in on base and come straight here?"

"Pretty much."

"Well, if you don't mind sleeping on a mattress on the floor, I don't see why not." Cam shrugged and waved around the empty living room. "I've got some bedding and inherited kitchenware from about fifty mismatched sets, but I was planning on picking up furniture from a couple sales and auctions this weekend."

John looked puzzled for a moment then nodded. "That's fine."

"Cool."

Over the next few hours and days, Cam learned quite a bit about John. First and foremost, he drove a '67 Corvette. Second, while he was fine with buying furniture second-hand, he also waved off Cam's protests about the expense of the TV and stereo system while muttering something about trust funds. Third, he liked "football, Ferris wheels, and anything that goes faster than 200 MPH." Cam could get behind that.

It also didn't take long for Cam to realize that he had a slight problem on his hands. It wasn't that he didn't get along with John or like him. Quite the opposite. John was smart and witty. John loved everything that flew, even if he had an unnatural fixation on helicopters. He laughed at Cam's bad jokes and made had a weird but awesome sense of humor of his own. He loved to pull pranks with a zeal directly proportion to the size of the stick up the target's ass. He was flippant and irreverent to superiors and toed the line at every opportunity, unless the person in question had earned John's respect, in which case he was attentive, well-behaved, and even downright worshipful at times. Last, while there hadn't been many cases to test it, Cam was sure that John had an intensely strong sense of justice, loyalty, and honor, and a genuine desire to help and protect others.

In short, John was exactly the sort of person that, had he been a woman, Cam would have a gigantic crush on and would be doing his best to hook up with. No, that wasn't right - he was the person Cam did have a gigantic crush on and wanted to hook up with, despite the fact that trying to do so could very well mean getting kicked out of the service before he even got to lay eyes on a jet. It didn't help that John was extremely fit and cute in a gawky kind of way. More than once Cam found himself eying John and getting aroused, especially when he was in clingy exercise shorts and a tight sweat-soaked t-shirt.

Cam was pretty sure that he was screwed.

A package came for Cam two weeks after John moved in. There was a wooden box inside, and within that was a letter on top of an old leather-bound journal.

Cam -

So, you probably think you're pretty much screwed right now. Believe me, I understand. John's a tricky little son of a bitch and hard to figure out. It certainly took me long enough. Fortunately, you've got me to help you.

First and foremost: Don't panic.

No one has found out about you. I'm actually you from the future, stuck in the past for reasons that aren't worth going into right now. Yes, it sounds insane, but it's true. I'm probably taking a huge risk sending this, but the fact of the matter is that I'm an old man and I don't see what it'll hurt to make a few changes here and there. You may feel differently - feel free to chuck this in the trash if you're worried about destroying the universe.

The book in this box has some information that might help now and then. I'm trusting you to keep this to yourself, and to follow instructions. I'm playing this a bit fast and loose, but there's some things that have to happen, and while they may be painful I'm pretty sure they're unavoidable, at least without causing bigger issues. If that'll be problem, burn the journal and forget it ever existed. There's more explanations, warnings, and proof of who I am on the first couple pages. I'm sure you'll make the right decision one way or another.

Oh - be careful about handling the book. It'd react a bit poorly to anyone but you messing with it. Seriously.

- Cam (Senior)

Cam's first instinct was to think that it was some kind of joke, except even his brother wouldn't dare screw around with Momma's filing system for a prank. For that matter, he was hundreds of miles away and barely even knew John existed. Cam had never told anyone that he liked guys as well as girls, not even Ash, and there was no way they could know what was going on inside his head.

Cam pursed his lips and took the box and its contents to his room, locking the door behind him. John wasn't going to be home for at least an hour or two, but Cam figured it was better to be safe than sorry. It only took a few minutes of reading to confirm that either the journal really was from him or it was from someone who could read his mind. There was just too much that the writer knew about Cam. Sure, there were a couple things off here and there - the name of the star quarterback he'd had an embarrassing crush on when he was fifteen was Bill Johnson, not Bob Jackson - but that only made it seem more real. Cam was holding a genuine message from a time-traveling future version of himself.

There were more warnings about how he'd have to be careful to keep the timeline close to what it should be, and a long, apologetic section on how Cam Senior had deliberately left information out to insure certain things would happen that would be "vital for planetary security". Other things he had detailed, though, either in the self-proclaimed Flyboy's Guide to John, The Universe, and Everything, or in messages yet to come, things that Cam Senior thought it would be safe to meddle with. Cam didn't know if he bought that line of reasoning, because he had read enough stories and watched enough Star Trek to know that meddling in time might cause butterfly effects and result in the Nazis winning World War Two or something like that. Cam Senior's occasional rambling wistfulness didn't exactly sound completely stable, either, which made sense for someone stuck in the past. Really, the best course of action Cam could take would be to burn the book, and then on his next trip home search the drop and burn anything suspicious there as well.

Except... well, what could it really hurt to see what else was in the Guide? After all, Cam was just a second lieutenant, while Cam Senior was a full-bird colonel and an experienced time traveler to boot. If he said it was okay, it probably was, and it wasn't like it was against regulations to meddle with causality. Not yet, at least.

The most important thing to remember, the Guide said, was, "Don't Panic". It even had those words branded onto the cover in bold letters. Cam was glad to see he would keep his sense of humor in his unspecified-but-implied-to-be-old age, even if the advice was unhelpfully vague.

"Don't panic," it said. "John isn't asexual. In fact, he likes sex quite a bit, when he can be bothered to look for it or is caught by surprise." That was a bit reassuring, because when Cam had (not) been paying attention on nights out, John had never seemed to actively seek out any action.

"Don't panic," it said. "John's gay, or at least further along that side of the scale than you are. Just look at the faces he makes when women touch him." That fit Cam's observations as well. John was perfectly comfortable working with women - if anything, he was a lot better about it than most guys - but that one time a bar gal angling for a pilot had wrapped herself around John, he'd all but stroked out on the spot.

"Don't panic," it said. "John is the emotional equivalent of a snapping turtle - prone to pulling into his shell and occasionally biting a toe off. Physical intimacy at turns scares him, confuses him, or annoys him, except for when you manage to get past his defenses, at which point he enjoys it quite a lot. His first time at a Mitchell family holiday scared him more than being captured by evil space aliens. His own family has left him with more issues than National Geographic. He occasionally has burst of self-destructive selflessness where he'll do what he thinks is best for everyone else, even if it's bad for him." That went double for anything relationship-related; it was entirely possible he might bolt not because of fear for himself, but fear for his partner.

Cam really wasn't sure why those were reasons not to panic; if anything, they seemed like perfectly valid reasons to be worried. He also had other doubts. For one thing, finding all this out seemed a bit skeevy; for another, the more he read the more he was convinced most of Cam Senior's information came from observation rather than any (successful) relationship on his own part. That did not inspire confidence.

It was still better than nothing, though, and so he started to form and implement a plan. The Guide didn't have any sort of step-by-step instructions, and even if it had Cam would have ignored it. Using it to get intelligence was one thing, but Cam knew that if he wanted to make this thing work he had to be fully invested in it and either succeed or fail on his own merits.

Phase One in the Plan was already well underway. That was making sure that Cam and John could be friends and live together without killing each other. Cam had seen more than enough relationships based on fiery passion crash and burn because once it started to wear off it turned out both sides couldn't stand each other. A healthy, stable relationship was based as much on friendship as romance. That went pretty smoothly; in fact, by the time their actual report-by date came and classes began, they were all but living out of each other's pockets.

It wasn't all perfect, of course. John had an annoying habit of leaving stuff lying around the living room, he held beliefs about college football that were quite frankly sacrilegious, and he had a disturbing fascination with rotor craft. He was also damned smart but preferred to pretend he wasn't, which just rankled Cam, who'd grown up in a family where you used the gifts God gave you. John in turn thought that Cam needed to lighten up a little, stop worrying about whether John was applying himself enough, and remember self-discipline didn't mean having a stick up the ass. They occasionally butted heads over other things, too, because they were both headstrong, opinionated, and often cranky after long days of work, but hell, a little bit of friendly bickering was a good thing. It kept people open and honest, and none of their differences were deal breakers or irreconcilable with a bit of compromise.

Phase Two involved getting John used to Cam's presence. They were already spending the majority of their time around each other for one reason or another, but Cam was more concerned with getting him acclimated to physical proximity. He started standing a little closer here, sitting closer there, and in general just sticking to John like glue. Their couch was Cam's greatest ally. It was already a little on the small size for two guys, and whenever they were watching TV or studying together Cam started to spread out a little more, sit a little closer, and slowly but surely invade John's personal space. It didn't take long before John stopped flinching and shying away when Cam brushed past him to grab some chips or tussled with him for the remote. The moment of victory came late one Friday night after grueling week of sixteen-hour days, when John just plain fell asleep in the middle of a show and slumped over against Cam.

Phase Three was the dating step. Cam was of the opinion that if they did things a couple would do, sooner or later John might start to catch on and realize what Cam was trying to accomplish. Cam wasn't an expert on gay relationships, but you could only do dinner and a movie so many times with a guy before you realized he might have intentions, right?

The Guide had this to say about people hitting on John: "He never sees it coming."

At first Cam thought it was an exaggeration. Then Cam wondered if John was either deliberately obtuse because he wasn't interested or because he was fucking around with everyone. He was definitely smart and sneaky enough to pull it off, but Cam didn't think he'd be so cruel as to deliberately lead a friend on. In the end, Cam was forced to admit John really was a bit clueless and didn't actually think anyone - at least any guys - would be interested in him for more than just sex.

He tried going out and getting drunk with John, while glaring at any girls who ventured too close. He tried taking John to football games. He tried dinner and movies - although honestly, it was probably best that John hadn't realized that watching Alien 3 was supposed to be a date. He tried using one of their precious weekends to hit the beach. He tried just about every trick his daddy, uncles, and cousins had ever taught him and watched them all bounce off John's dense head.

Cam ended up having to a lot of digging to find out John's birthday, at which point he pulled out all the stops. He baked a cake, made John's favorite dinner, broke out the best alcohol his Uncle Jock and Aunt Sophie could make, and even hastily retrofitted one of the USAF afghans he'd been working on for the twins to a more appropriate size. Knowing John wouldn't want a huge party, he waited to present it all until the Friday evening immediately after his actual birthday.

John's response, once he was stuffed full of food and sprawled on the couch in a contented haze, was to shake his head and chuckle. "You know, Mitchell, if I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to seduce me."

"Finally!" Cam exclaimed. "It's about time you got it."

John frowned. "Got what?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake. That's it, no more Lt. Subtle Cam," Cam said. He leaned over and kissed John square on the lips. Then, seeing John's wide-eyed and dazed look, he got off the couch and onto his knees in front of John. "You have about thirty seconds to tell me to stop," he said, fumbling with John's fly.

"Uh. Mitchell? I really don't think you should be doing that," John said, quickly following up with, "Scratch that, keep doing what you're doing."

It had been a long while since Cam had last given a guy a blowjob, and he'd only had a couple awkward high school encounters to begin with. What he lacked in experience he made up with enthusiasm, though; that, and he'd carefully read over several pages of helpful tips that saved him the painfully embarrassing trouble of approaching one of his cousins for advice. John certainly didn't have any complaints, if the way he was moaning and his fingers were digging into the cushions were any sign. He came fast and without warning, leaving Cam sputtering and wiping come off his mouth and chin.

Cam sat back and waited a minute for John to recover, and when John didn't speak he finally said, "Happy birthday."

John turned bright red and chuckled. "Best. Present. Ever."

"Have anything else to say?"

"Uh, maybe." John ducked his head and looked away from Cam. "It's come to my attention that you might have... what's the southern hillbilly word for it? Intentions?"

"I believe the damn Yankee term would be 'dating you for a month'," Cam answered. He sat back and crossed his legs. "I'd've thought it was pretty obvious, but I forgot you're denser than a brick."

Still looking away, John said, "We can't do this."

"Yes, we can."

"If anyone finds out, they'll kick us out of the service. We won't be able to fly."

It sent a shiver up Cam's spine, that last sentence, but he pressed on. "I know. We'd have to be careful. Doesn't mean it's not worth giving it a shot."

"How can you be sure of that?"

"John. John, look at me." Cam waited until John raised his face and looked him in the eye. "I can't be sure, but I think it might be. I am sure that I like you a lot, and that I'd like to see if there could be something more. I'd rather take a little risk than never know."

"Even though there'd be a chance we could get screwed over?"

"Even though," Cam confirmed.

John frowned and bit his lower lip. "And you do realize that I'm probably going to suck at the relationship thing, right?"

"I guessed," Cam said with a grin. "My Gran'ma always says that nothing worth doing is easy."

"Everyone's grandmother says that sort of thing," John said.

"Also, I've been assured that the power of young love conquers all," Cam said, carefully applying the four-letter L-word in only a joking manner. He didn't need the Guide to know that he'd have to be careful about using it in any other way. Not, mind, that Cam was anything but attracted to and mildly infatuated with John at that stage. Really.

John started to chuckle, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "I should have known you'd be a hopeless romantic, Mitchell."

"I won't deny it. If I wasn't, I'd have jumped you long ago. Instead I tried to do things right and proper."

"Mmm." John thought for a moment and took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll admit that I might - might! - like you as more than just a close friend. I might not. And I suppose I don't see why I should let this stupid reg get in my way any more than I do others. But I'll still want to think about it."

Cam knew John could dither right up until the day they split up for fighter and rotor training if allowed to. "How about you come to my bedroom and I show you a couple persuasive arguments?"

John licked his lips. "I suppose a, um, demonstration of the positive side of a relationship might not be out of line. I need to express my gratitude for all the gifts anyways, especially that last."

"I like the way you think," Cam said, climbing to his feet.

Cam was very persuasive that night, and the next, and so on until even if John never actually said the words it was clear he was giving it a shot. They took things slow, sticking mostly to blowjobs, handjobs, and frottage for a while, and kept spending the nights in their own beds. It was like learning to have sex all over again as they figured out what each other liked. By the time they finally worked their way past fingering each other to full-on screwing, they were genuinely sleeping with each other, too.

In public, nothing much changed. They just kept doing the same things they had been doing the whole time, and if there was any difference no one seemed to notice. Outside their apartment they were just best friends and the best damned pilots their instructors had seen, and inside it, well, they were friends there, too, just with something extra added.

The Guide had this to say about the family: "Sink or swim is a good way to get John drowned. Caution is advised."

In the normal course of events, a Mitchell, Griffith, or so on and so forth would bring home a prospective partner on one of the major family holidays, usually Thanksgiving or Christmas, so that they could see exactly what sort of trouble they were getting into. It often resulted in said partner hiding out in the attic, bathroom, or another small, enclosed space at some point during their stay, driven to the brink of collapse by the hurricane-strength intensity of the family. It was all in good fun and no one meant any harm by it, except for those rare occasions where the family collectively decided they didn't like the interloper and took it upon themselves to make sure the relationship hit a brick wall. Cam was fairly certain they'd like John; on the other hand, he was also certain John was the sort to take one look at them and start running for the hills. Possibly literally, like what happened with one of cousin Sarah's poor beaus.

Labor Day was coming up, and as holidays went it was about as low-key as they got. Summer was over and most of the kids would be heading back where they belonged, and only the local family was likely to be there; for that matter, even some of them might be taking actual vacations or visiting the in-laws instead. The only problem was that Cam and John had been officially together barely more than a month, which was not so much a problem because of the family as because of John.

"I was thinking of heading home for Labor Day," Cam said idly one night about a week in advance.

"I - ah - okay?" John replied.

"I want you to come with me," Cam continued. "You can meet my folks."

"Wait, you want - mmm, do that again."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes! Yes, damn it. Oh, thank God."

The Guide had absolutely nothing to say about getting John to agree with you by asking in the middle of a handjob. Cam figured that out all by himself.

It wasn't until they were packing on Friday that John started throwing him pensive glances, finally asking, "What have you told them about us?"

"Nothing yet," Cam said after a moment. "I figured I'd tell them when we got there."

"Look, I don't think we should say anything," John said. "I don't want to get you in trouble."

"They're not going to care," Cam assured him. "At worst, Momma's just going to insist on feeding you even more."

"I'm serious. We haven't been dating for that long. What if it doesn't work out? I'm not going to risk ruining your reputation this early in the game."

"You're not going to ruin my reputation."

"Cam," John said, soft but firm. "Please. Just this once, okay?"

Cam sighed and nodded. "Okay. I don't like it, though." He didn't admit that he was almost glad John was reluctant, because he honestly wasn't sure what he should say to his family himself. It wasn't so much that he thought they would react poorly as how incredibly awkward it would be to explain how he'd not-so-suddenly acquired a taste for men.

It was about an eight hour drive in John's Corvette to get from Columbus AFB in Mississippi to Black Mountain and the homestead, which wasn't bad at all with two people driving even if it did mean listening to Johnny Cash the entire way. There were only seven cars in the driveway when they arrived a little after lunch on Saturday, which Cam took as a good sign. Almost as soon as they were out of the car the twin terrors came flying around the latest addition to the house.

"Uncle Cam!" they shouted, and nearly bowled him over when they flung themselves at him. Skipper and Spencer were getting big, right at the cusp of was probably going to be one hell of a growth spurt if they held true to Cam and Ash's history. That'd bring other things with it, and for all he loved them, Cam was glad he wasn't going to be around to deal with them when they discovered girls.

"Hey, hey, off!" he said, laughing and trying to hug them without loosing hold of his bag. "Guys, this here's John. He works with me." The half-truth slipped off his tongue easier than he'd expected; hopefully it'd stay that way.

"Hey there," John said with an easy smile.

"Hi," Skipper said. "I'm Spencer."

"I'm Skipper," Spencer added, because of course they'd be in one of those moods. Cam was just glad they weren't pulling their identical clothing routine.

John eyed them suspiciously and said to Cam, "Is it just me, or are those grins of theirs a bit too big?"

"They're lying out their teeth," Cam said. "That's Skipper, that's Spencer. Don't believe anything they say."

"That hurts, Uncle Cam," Spencer said, face suddenly deathly serious. "Are you... are you saying you don't trust us?" He looked like he was about to burst into tears for a few moments, until he realized that Cam wasn't buying it at all and started to smile again.

"So you guys must be, what, thirteen?" John said, knowing damn well that wasn't the answer.

"Twelve!" Skipper replied.

"Wow, you're are big for your age." The boys puffed up with up pride at that, unable or unwilling to realize they were being played by someone after their own heart. Cam eventually had to separate them from John before they could drag him off to do who knew what. He finally managed to get him into the house and through to the kitchen, where a few of the women were still at work, preparing for supper or getting a head start for the holiday itself. Cam knew before too long he'd probably get drafted himself.

"Hey Momma," Cam said. "Gran'ma. Aunt Lavinia." He hugged them each in turn: Momma tightly, Gran'ma a little less so because for all that she was still going strong her body wasn't what it used to be, and a swift pat to the back for Lavinia.

"Well, who's this handsome young man, then?" Gran'ma asked, nodding to where John was lurking half in, half out of the kitchen door.

John stepped forward. "John Sheppard, ma'am. It's a real pleasure to meet you. I must say, you're much younger than I had been imagining."

"Oh really," Gran'ma said, looking mildly amused. "So you thought I was some wrinkled old biddy?"

"Uh..."

"Or has Cam been telling you how ancient I am?"

"That's... not what I meant, although I can see how you might interpret it those ways," John said, quickly recovering his smile. "I was simply so stunned by your beauty that I was at a loss for words."

Cam waited with wide eyes to see how that would go over and was relieved when Gran'am laughed. "You're certainly a bold one, I'll give you that."

"Boldness is the key to airpower, ma'am," John said.

"Where's dad?" Cam asked.

"Out in the barn, showing off that contraption he and Bayliss are working on," Momma replied. "John's in the bedroom next to Aunt Claire, by the way."

"Thanks."

They dumped their gear and went out the back door, pausing a moment just outside to say hi to Great Aunt Claire and Great Aunt Suzette, who were knitting on the porch swing. They had to detour before they got halfway to the barn, pulled away so Cam could introduce John to the small army of kids running around the backyard and the pair of teenagers charged with keeping them clear of the creek. John's expression upon being introduced to Sleen-Goo and Bubba-Goo was, in a word, priceless.

Finally they managed to get inside the barn, where Cam's father Everett and several uncles and cousins were gathered around bits and pieces of what was supposedly going to be an Egyptian war chariot some day. Even if Cam had been unsure about John before, his reaction to meeting his daddy would have sealed the deal for sure. He didn't flinch, didn't glance down or do a double-take, didn't hesitate, just stepped forward and shook his hand.

"Honor to meet you, sir," John said. "I've heard a lot about you."

Cam's daddy gave John an appraising look. "Good to meet you, John. You're in flight school too?"

"Yes, sir," John answered. "They're just about to start letting us get behind the stick."

"Gonna be a fighter pilot?"

"Actually, sir, I prefer helicopters."

"Helicopters," Cam's daddy repeated, shooting Cam an incredulous look. He could only shrug in response.

"Yes, sir, helicopters," John confirmed.

"Lord have mercy. Cam, are you sure you should be hanging around with this boy?"

Cam doubted anyone else saw the wince that flashed across John's eyes, but he should as hell did. Smoothly he said, "He grows on you, sort of like a fungus."

"Hmph."

"Nothing wrong with flying a helicopter. They're a damned sight more useful than any of your fancy jets," Bayliss opined. "Got any idea what you want to do besides fly choppers, John?"

"I was planning to try and get into AFSOC, sir," John said.

"Mmm, like Cam's brother," Cam's daddy said. He couldn't keep complaining, of course, not when Ash was trying his best to become a pararescueman. "I suppose that's all right. At least you have the smarts to fly the plane instead of jumping out of the thing."

"Yes, sir," John said.

"I still blame Cam for that decision. Poor Ash got clonked over the head a few too many times by his brother and got all the common sense knocked right out of him."

"Oh, no," Cam said with a laugh. "You don't get to go and claim that's my fault. I tried my best to make him see reason. You want to blame someone, talk to your own brothers and cousins about all those stories they filled his head with."

"Oh, believe me, I have," Cam's daddy said, aiming a glare at various relatives of the ground-pounding variety. That set them into defending their honor, of course, and in short order there was a good-natured free-for-all 'debate' in progress, Round 729 of Fighter Mafia vs Rest of Air Force. That, as usual, quickly spilled into the age-old three-way of Air Force vs Marines vs Army, with the few Navy adherents sitting off to the side and laughing their asses off.

John did his best to keep his head down, saying little more than "yes, sir" or "no, sir", so polite and respectful and just not-John that Cam was left wondering if he'd been replaced by a robot duplicate or something. Cam ended up pulling him aside and saying, "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm great," John said.

"You sure?" Cam said. "I haven't heard you drop so many sirs in, well, ever, I think."

"I'm just trying to be polite, that's all."

"You don't need to be polite." Cam waved around the barn. "Uncle Roy just called Jock a mud-sucking sumbitch, you think that's polite? Be yourself, no one's gonna mind. Watch your mouth around the women and you'll be fine."

John kept acting the same the rest of the weekend, though, no matter how much Cam tried to reassure him. He stuck close to Cam when he could and stayed at the edge of the group when he couldn't, especially once the holiday itself rolled around and a couple dozen more people showed up. He only truly relaxed when he was out horsing around with the kids out in the yard.

Late in the afternoon on Monday, not long before they'd have to leave, Cam dragged John off into the woods and took him to a secluded little ravine he and Ash had often hidden in as kids. It was as close to privacy as they could get without walking halfway across the county, and there was a rocky shelf where they could lay down side by side and sun themselves. Just doing that and putting his hand around John's brought a momentary pang at the reminder of what he'd been missing, even for a couple days.

"Glad you came?" Cam asked after they'd laid there in silence.

"I guess," John said. "Food was good. Nice bunch of kids, too."

"What about the rest of the family?"

"They're..." John trailed off and Cam grinned.

"Loud? Exuberant? Overbearing? Insane? Go on, say whatever you want. It'll be nothing that some other poor soul hasn't said."

"All of that, yeah," John said, "And there's a lot of them."

This time Cam laughed. "John, this isn't even half of them. You'll see what they're really like on Thanksgiving."

"Mmm," John replied, a small contemplative noise that was neither agreement nor disagreement.

Quietly, Cam asked, "Any chance you'll let me tell my parents before we leave?"

"Mmm," John went again. "Maybe next time?"

"Joooohn," Cam grumbled. He scooted closer to John, rolled onto his side, and nuzzled at John's neck. "I'm not asking for a grand announcement. Just Momma, Daddy, and maybe Gran'ma."

"Cam, no," John said firmly. "Not today."

"Gran'ma likes you, and my parents think you're nice. Now, that might be because you've been like a mouse the last few days, but they managed to get through twenty-some years with me, Ash, and a half-dozen cousins at one time or another without killing one of us, so I think they won't mind normal you."

"That's not the point, Cam. Plenty of people suddenly change their mind when they find out someone's a queer."

"Did it look like they had a problem with Susie Mae and Maria?"

John snorted softly. "You're their son. It'd be different." Then he gently cuffed the top of Cam's head. "And stop with the touching. Don't think I don't know what you're up to."

Cam grinned against John's skin and put a hand over his crotch. "What's that?"

"Getting me distracted so I'll say yes. That only works once. Well, once a month."

"I'm not doing anything of the sort.

"Uh huh," John replied.

"I haven't gotten any for days, I think I'm allowed to be horny," Cam said, rubbing against John.

"Right," John said, "and when we show up looking like we got laid, it won't clue anyone in at all."

Cam let off what he was doing, but only for long enough to get up and lay back down on top of John. "You can always tell me to stop if you want."

John didn't say anything for a moment, then started to lean up to kiss him. Cam had just a moment to congratulate himself for coming up with a cunning plan before John stopped with his lips just a hairsbreadth from Cam's. He looked over to the side.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yeah, I did," Cam said with a sigh. He rolled off John and glared off into the woods. "You may as well come out!" he called. "You've already ruined the moment!"

Skipper and Spencer's heads popped out from either side of a thick tree and with hangdog looks they walked over to them. It would have been funny if Cam wasn't horny and annoyed.

"We didn't know you were here!" Skipper blurted.

"We were just out on a walk," Spencer added.

"Really," Cam said. "Just a walk."

"Yeah," Skipper said, with a momentary glance sideways at his twin. Cam's eyes narrowed and he stared at Skipper until he finally cracked and said, "Okay, we came out here to ge-"

"Find you," Spencer finished hurriedly, talking over Skipper.

Cam was positive that it wasn't what Skipper had been going to say, which made him wonder what they were up to that admitting to stalking was better than the alternative. Fortunately for them, Cam didn't care, because he could use the situation to his own advantage, and he wouldn't be around for whatever they had planned.

"Well, so much for not telling," Cam said, trying to look sad.

John sat up and waved Skipper and Spencer closer. He lowered his voice and said, "How good are you guys at keeping a secret?"

Cam buried his face in his hands and groaned. The twins lapped it up, of course, because there were few things they liked more than conspiracies. The fact that they were being trusted with a Real Adult Secret - and Cam could hear the capitals even when the words were just being thought by the two of them - sealed the deal and probably earned John their unswerving loyalty. It was certainly enough to prompt them to show off the mini-blimp they were building in a nearby shed as a show of trust and goodwill. Exactly what the blimp was for, even they were unsure of, but they said it was going to be awesome.

When Cam and John hit the road that night, they still hadn't told anyone. It wasn't perfect, but Cam figured he'd have plenty of time to get things settled by the next time they came, if not earlier.

As it turned out, that was horribly optimistic.

John proved to be incredibly hard to pin down for a conversation on the topic. He would always find some way to change the subject, have something else to do, or distract Cam. Their schedules weren't helping, either; they were soon pulling fourteen-hour or longer days and when they got home they were barely in the mood to watch TV or get off, let alone have a serious conversation. Before Cam knew it, first September and then October and most of November slipped past, and he suddenly needed to call Momma to confirm John was coming so she could make up the sleeping arrangements.

John, when asked, just shrugged and said, "Things worked fine last time. I don't see why we need to change things."

"Because I don't like lying to my family, that's why," Cam said.

"We're not lying to them."

"They think you're just a friend."

"We are friends, just... more," John replied. "It's not lying."

"It's close enough," Cam said. Trying to compromise, he suggested, "Look, how about this. We only tell my parents, but still have Momma put you in my room. The house will be full anyways, no one else will think anything of it."

"Your parents are exactly the ones I don't want to say anything to!"

"John, they're my parents, I think I have the right to make the decision about whether to come out to them!"

"No!" John shouted. His expression instantly turned guilty and he closed his eyes. After several deep breaths, he said in a tense, hushed voice, "Sorry. But I am not ready for this at all, and if it's a choice between going to Thanksgiving and not telling, then I'll just stay here. That way you won't have feel wrong for not saying anything to them."

"I guess you're not going then," Cam said, fighting to keep his own voice under control. "Because I'm not going to look them in the face and lie anymore."

John crossed his arm and nodded. "Fine."

"All right. I'll let Momma know."

Except an hour later, when Cam made the call, he found himself saying they'd both be coming. He couldn't lie to his family anymore, but he couldn't just leave John on his own, either. If he did it once, he could all to easily see it happening again and again, and he would not let that happen. His family was too big a part of who he was and he cared too much about John to let it go without a fight, especially without knowing why John was so dead set against anyone knowing.

Cam was supposed to leave on Wednesday. Right before his departure time, he waited until he was sure John was safely out of earshot and he used the phone in his bedroom to call home.

"Hey, Momma," he said once she was on the line. "I've got some bad news."

"Something wrong, honey?" Momma replies, a slight worry tinging her voice.

"Nothing major," he quickly assured her. "John and I just aren't gonna be able to make it tomorrow."

"Why's that?"

"We've both gone and caught some kind of bug that's been going around. It's got us sick as dogs. Fever, stomach aches, the whole nine yards."

"That so?" she said sharply.

He winced and knew at once that she could tell something was up. Gamely, he tried, "Yeah. We're pretty miserable and trying to drive that far's would be just asking for trouble, and it wouldn't be a good idea to have us around the kids and old folks anyway." He threw in a cough for good measure.

Momma huffed in disbelief. "Cameron Everett Mitchell, I've been tending you when you've gotten sick for twenty-two years now. I can damn well tell when you're actually ill and when you're faking it. Do us both a favor and don't pretend otherwise.

"I'm serious," he protested. "Even if we made it, we'd be miserable company."

"Now that sounds like God's honest truth. Are you and that boy in some kind of trouble?"

"No! It's... complicated."

"Complicated enough that you'd rather lie to your own mother than explain."

"I swear, Momma, I'd tell you in a heartbeat, but it's not up to me alone."

She sighed long and deep. "All right, if that's the way of things, then so be it. I'll expect to see you for Christmas, though, and if you try to pull this again then I'll get an answer even if I have to come up there and drag it out of you in person. You hear?"

"I hear."

"Good." Her voice softened a little. "I love you, Cam. Take care."

"Love you too, Momma."

Cam hung up the phone and rubbed his forehead with his palms. He couldn't believe he'd thought for a second she would just buy his story and knew that he was in for it come Christmas. God help them all if he couldn't get the situation resolved by then. If he skipped that holiday, even fleeing to another planet wouldn't save him from an ass whooping.

He went out to the car after saying goodbye to a miserable-looking John, but instead of heading for the highway he drove to the grocery store instead. It was way too late to get a turkey, but he wouldn't trust their oven with one anyway. He got everything else he would need for a decent meal, though, potatoes, noodles, chicken, and a few other things. He took a couple hours to do it and get back to the apartment.

"Get out here and help me carry these bags in," Cam said to John when he answered Cam's knock at the door.

"But. You're not," John stammered in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"Having Thanksgiving with my boyfriend, that's what," Cam said. "Come on, move."

As soon as everything was inside and the door was safely shut, John said, "When I said the choices were to not go or not tell them, I meant I wasn't going to go. You should be with your family."

"Yeah, I should be," Cam said, harsher than he intended. "But if you won't go, then I'm not going either. It's that simple."

"Cam, get out of here."

"No."

"Okay, you know what? Fuck it," John said, throwing up his hands and stomping off to his bedroom.

Their problem, Cam decided as he put the groceries away, was that they were both entirely too stubborn for their own good. John wasn't going to give in easy and neither was Cam, but at the same time neither of them wanted to risk actually hurting the other by letting their tempers loose. Passive-aggressive was the name of the game. Cam could do that just fine.

They got through the rest of Wednesday without saying much more than 'please' and 'thank you' to each other and ended up sleeping in separate beds. Thursday quickly started to shape up into the most uncomfortable Thanksgiving in history. John hesitantly crawled out of his hole to help cook, although all he could be trusted with was cutting vegetables, mashing potatoes, or other things that required no skill at all. They ate lunch in silence, cleaned up in silence, and watched football and drank booze in something that, if not silence, wasn't really communication either. Given the circumstances, Cam broke out the good stuff.

They were well on their way to being completely smashed when John suddenly and very carefully said, "You're miserable."

"Yep," Cam said.

"Because you're not with your family."

"Pretty much."

"But you could have gone anyways."

"Would have been just as miserable without you."

"Well, fuck." John shook his head rapidly, then stopped and winced. "Ow."

Cam sighed. "You want to tell me what your problem is?"

"You love your family. Like, really, truly love them. And you're miserable without them. Did I mention that already?"

"You did."

"Good. See, your problem is that you trust people too much. You want to see the good in everyone, especially in your family. You see that no one had a problem with Sarah and Maria."

"Sallie Mae," Cam corrected.

"Sallie Mae, and Hunter and what's-his-name, and you think, 'oh, they won't mind'. And maybe most of them won't. But just 'cause your Momma and your daddy are fine with cousins being gay doesn't mean they'll like it when it's you." John laughed, dark and subtly angry, and took a deep drink. "No, it could very well be that your dad is perfectly happy when your cousin's holding hands with another girl but if he finds that his own son's a cocksucker, a fucking faggot, he'll blow his top. Maybe there'll be no screaming and shouting or anything, but you'll just know from the way he looks at you that he's disgusted."

"Oh, John," Cam said softly, because even with all he'd had to drink he wasn't so out of it that he couldn't make the connection between what John was saying and how he'd barely heard two words about John's own family since meeting him.

"And I am not going to let that happen with you," John finished. "I'm not going to let you tell them, because even if you're miserable now you'll be even more miserable if it all turns to shit. That's just the way it is. I care way too much about you to let you hurt yourself."

Cam sat there for a minute, letting it all sink in. Slowly he said, "I get what you're saying. I even get why you might believe it's true. Sometime this weekend, once I can think more clearly, we're gonna have to talk it over, because not talking isn't working and I think you're worrying too much. But I can tell you this. I'm not going to hide you away like I'm ashamed of you, not from my family. If my daddy has a problem, well, I love him, but I love you too, and if it comes to you or him I'll choose you."

John's eyes went comically wide and his expression went through several contortions before settling on dismay. "You do not get to say that sort of thing when a guy's drunk, Mitchell."

"What? Say I love you?"

"Yes!"

"Don't blame me, it's your fault," Cam said. "'M just sayin' what I feel."

"Don't," John insisted. "I hate it when people are all, all, mushy and shit."

"You'll have have to learn to deal, 'cause I've been told by certain people that I'm a hopeless romantic."

"You are. It's horrible."

"Just tryin' to treat you right." Cam grinned. "I can treat you right in other ways, if ya want."

"Suppose that'd be alright."

Cam would say one thing about the never-ending hours of class and training: it was definitely giving them both the ability to function even when halfway out of it, be it from exhaustion or drunkenness.

Friday went more smoothly, with almost all the built-up tension gone. They took their day off as an opportunity to laze about watching TV and playing video games, and if John seemed content to pretend the previous night's conversation had never happened Cam didn't comment. He finally had a handle on what John's problem was, and if he couldn't quite think of how to reassure him he was positive he'd find some way to do it.

It actually turned out remarkably easy, mostly because on Saturday morning - well, Saturday afternoon, really - Cam got up to find his brother poking around inside the refrigerator.

"Boy, didn't anyone ever teach you to knock?" Cam asked while blinking blearily.

"I did knock, but you didn't answer so I let myself in," Ash replied. "I should have known better than expect pilots not to laze around all day."

"Don't you go mouthing off."

"Sir, I would never dream of mouthing off to an officer, sir."

Cam's sleep-fogged brain finally caught up with reality and with three big steps he rushed forward and pulled Ash into a tight hug. "Good to see you," he said.

"You too, Cam," Ash replied. "It's been way too long."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, you see, I'd been looking forward to seeing my brother over the holidays, only then I hear that you're ill," Ash looked him over with a decidedly dubious expression, "and so I volunteered to bring you some leftovers."

"Oh, God," Cam groaned. "Tell me Momma didn't send you."

"No, but she's well and truly pissed off at you. She wouldn't say why, though."

Just then John came stumbling out of Cam's bedroom, clad only in his boxers. He stopped suddenly and stared at them. "Cam, why's there a younger you standing there?"

Cam chuckled. "John, this is my brother Ash. Ash, John."

"Uh, hi," John said, holding out his hand and looking like he'd much rather run and find some pants.

"Hi, sir," Ash said. He grinned as he shook John's hand. "I've been looking forward to meeting the boyfriend."

"What?" John and Cam said simultaneously. John glared at Cam, who shrugged helplessly and looked to Ash for an explanation.

"You didn't seriously expect Gran'ma not to notice, did you?" Ash asked. "She pretty much pulled me aside and told me to come up here to find out if you were having relationship issues, and believe me, that wasn't a fun conversation at all."

"Well, shit," John said.

Cam took a deep breath and let it out after a minute. "Has she told anyone else?"

"Don't think so, although I think about half the family is speculating about how he's got you in some kind of trouble, what with Momma on the warpath and all." Ash grinned at John. "Apparently people think you were too polite to be true. Oh, and I think you about broke Skipper's heart by not showing up. He's moping."

"Well, shit," John repeated. "They don't even know and they're gossiping about me. This is exactly what I was worried about."

"On the bright side, that pretty much means you're family," Cam offered. "You should have heard them talking about Carson the first time Bella Jo brought him home."

"Or there's always Uncle George," Ash said. Cam caught his eye and subtly shook his head, because while John only knew Uncle George the sergeant sooner or later he'd find out about that Uncle George too. The last thing he wanted was for John to think people were associating the two of them.

"You know," Cam said, seeing an opportunity and seizing it. "If even Gran'ma knows and apparently approves, I'm pretty sure you can't say that Momma and Daddy wouldn't."

Ash frowned. "Is that why you didn't come?"

John squeezed his eyes shut and turned around, announcing, "I'm going to take a shower. I'm not awake enough or wearing enough clothes to deal with this right now."

Ash waited until John had wandered off to the bathroom to say, "So. A guy?"

"Yeah."

"Not exactly what I would have expected, what with the way you mooned over Amy Vandenberg."

"Oh, shut up," Cam said, cuffing the back of Ash's head. "At least I'm sticking with one person."

Ash smirked. "There's nothing wrong with playing the field a little while looking for someone to settle down with." More seriously, he added, "You do realize how much trouble you could get in, right?"

Cam rolled his eyes. "The thought has crossed my mind, yes."

"Just checking. I had to make sure, since God knows you don't have a bit of sense in your head when you get one of your crazy ideas."

"Says the man who thinks jumping out of planes is a good career choice."

"Someone has to look out for you crazy-ass pilots."

After a few more minutes Cam got around to putting on some pants and heating up the food Ash had brought with him. They spent the rest of the day catching up, with John joining in as well, hesitant at first and increasingly confident as it became clear that Ash didn't give a shit about them being gay except as good source for a few obligatory jokes. Ash spent far more time making fun of them for thinking their training was grueling when his own pararescue course was far worse and even more competitive for positions. John listened with interest to Ash's stories; Cam was pretty sure that if there had been an equivalent program for officers John would have joined in heartbeat, which just went to show how nutty the man was.

By the time Ash headed back home on Monday, John seemed finally convinced that he wasn't going to turn Cam into a pariah if the rest of the family found out about them. When it came time to call up Momma about arrangements for Christmas and New Years, John shrugged and held up a single finger.

"You two feeling better?" Momma asked once all the usual chit-chat and family updates were out of the way. Cam knew he was going to be in the doghouse a long time for that stunt, no matter how justified it turned out to be.

"Yeah, a lot better," he said. "By the way, John will be coming with me again and, uh, we'll just be needing the one bed."

Momma made a thoughtful noise. "I thought that might be the way of things. You want me to let people know, or you want to wait?"

"Just say I'm bringing my partner -"

'Partner?' John mouthed from the other end of the couch. Cam shrugged, rolled his eyes, and waved away the possible terminology debate.

"- and that they should try not to scare him off. Let 'em think whatever they want."

"You know there's no point in trying not to scare him," Momma said with a small laugh. "Not with these folks."

"Good point. I'll make sure to bring a rope to keep him from running away, then."

Rope proved unnecessary, even if Cam did have to pry John out from under the bed a couple times over the two weeks of leave they had. John was himself and no one so much as batted an eye at them, beyond a few usual suspects who were completely incorrigible and would have found reason to be grumpy the perfect woman. Cam's daddy wasn't completely happy, no, but that was from worry about their careers, not the fact that John had a dick. All in all, Cam thought things with the family worked out pretty well.

The Guide had this to say about absence: a whole fucking lot.

Once you got past the how-to parts, most of the journal was filled with wistful rambling stories from both before and after Cam Senior got stuck in the thirties, with paragraphs blacked out or pages removed here or there. For the most part they weren't about anything important or world-shaking, just whatever happenings Cam Senior had been reminded of while writing. Cam didn't know who T, S, D, and V were but he knew he would be glad to meet them and call them friends. He knew also that they were close as family and that Cam Senior has missed them sorely during the long years he had lived hermit-like before the too-brief year on the Achilles.

Cam gleaned what he could from the stories, tucking away details here and there in case he could use them some day. He wasn't supposed to meddle, of course, but it was too late to worry over much about that and he didn't want to be too bound by what had happened before. The contradiction between some of Cam Senior's warnings and the fact that he'd left messages in the first place was not lost on Cam. It was just a string a little things scattered through the text that painted a picture about the man who had written it. He was worn down by years of loneliness and who missed his family terribly; he had a single-minded devotion to duty and was bone-achingly tired from shouldering a tremendous burden by himself; he had spent most of a decade living alone for fear of changing things for the worse but at the end had bent just a little to allow his younger self a chance at something he had always regretted missing.

There were terms for what Cam saw in the pages, like post-traumatic stress disorder and clinical depression, but there was also an incredible strength of will that Cam could only hope he'd match himself some day. Cam didn't begrudge him for sharing his burdens or for making the decisions he did, even if he did question at times why Cam Senior shared some things and left out others.

Cam learned about absence first-hand when the end of basic flight rolled around, nine months after he and John had met. He was first in his class and elected to go fighter-bomber track, of course; John was ninth and could have been higher if he'd put in a little more effort and selected helicopter track. There had been a few moments when John had seriously considered changing his mind, but in the end he stuck to his guns. The end result was that Cam stayed at Columbus, but John packed up his things and headed for Fort Rucker in southern Alabama. It was only a five hour drive, but it may as well have been five hundred for all they saw each other. Twelve hours in the air or classroom a day was not conducive to spending even more time sitting behind the wheel. They talked every night and stole what weekends they could, and Cam didn't even say a word when John kept paying his half of the rent. Finding a new roommate would have been too much of a pain, especially when they would have to be so damn careful around him or her. On long holiday weekends they often met up at the homestead and were usually so desperate for physical contact that any trace of embarrassment was quickly blown away by the need to have (very quiet) sex.

It only got worse from there.

Cam was a military brat from a military family. He had grown up with his daddy off on assignment much of the time, surrounded by cousins who's daddies were away as well. His Uncle Henry's near-constant overseas postings were half the reason Cam been the one to spend so much time raising the twins. He knew what it was like to miss someone important, but found out that he hadn't really known what it was like for the adults.

Cam ended up in Italy and flying over Bosnia; John was doing something in Japan or Korea that he couldn't talk much about. Even phone calls were a pain in the ass, a combination of the seven hour time difference and differing duty schedules. They managed to see each other for Christmas and a few other holidays, when they could manage to get leave at the same time; intercontinental tickets were far from cheap, especially on lieutenants' salaries, but John's mysterious funding source came through yet again.

It wasn't all bad. Flying F-16s was everything Cam had ever dreamed of and more, every moment in the air showing him exactly why his daddy still spoke in wistful tones about the planes that had taken his legs. He was surrounded by friends and comrades, including his current wingman and old archnemesis Sam Carter. He may have spent four years competing with her in their class standings, so close that rumor said the commandant had needed to flip a coin to choose the valedictorian, but that just assured him he was flying with the best the Air Force had to offer. After a few months of flying and occasionally getting shot at together, she was practically the sister Cam never had.

Of course, she was a sister with an annoyingly gigantic brain and could make intuitive leaps using only the most basic knowledge, which led to an extremely awkward conversation at a bar shortly after the first Christmas.

"You're moping," Carter said.

Cam raised his eyes up from the glass of beer he had been studying morosely. "I am not."

"You are," Carter said. "You've been sitting around staring off into space like a lovelorn puppy for a week. It's even worse than when Hicks got dumped by his Italian beauty."

"You're seeing things," Cam insisted.

"I'd have to be blind not to see it. Come on, what's the matter? Trouble at home? Did you meet some nice little lady and have to leave her behind?" Something in Cam's face must have given her an answer because her eyes lit up and she leaned closer. "You did."

"I did not," Cam grumbled.

It was too late, of course. Carter, once confronted with a mystery, was inherently incapable of just letting it lay. "What's her name?"

"There's no her."

"Come on, what's the matter?"

"I'm just homesick, is all. There's no girl involved."

Carter sighed. "Cam. Something's eating at you. You can talk to me about it, I swear it's not going to go any further."

"Fine, there is someone at home," Cam admitting, fibbing only a little. "And before you ask, yes, it's serious. And no, I haven't gotten anyone pregnant."

"As if," Carter said with a laugh. "You'd have already made her an honest woman if that was the case."

"Course I would have, but that's not going to be a problem." Too close to the truth, that, so Cam added, "What with us being on different continents and all that."

"Mmm-hmm," Carter went in a thoughtful tone. "She's not interested in being a nice little service wife and following you around?"

It was Cam's turn to laugh. "God, no. She's got her own career to think about."

"Good for her. Trust me, you'll both be happier this way. Some people might be fine with playing housewife, but I can't imagine anyone you'd fall for this hard being happy with that."

"There's nothing wrong with staying home," Cam gently chided. Carter had family issues of her own, he knew; nothing near as bad as John did but still there under the surface. "They also serve and all that."

"Fair enough," she replied with a tip of her head. "You still haven't told me her name, you know."

"Joan," Cam said after a moment.

He managed to get her distracted with another subject after a bit, not entirely trusting himself and more to the point not wanting to lie to her. He wasn't sure she bought the story entirely, and as the months passed and he occasionally needed to vent he was pretty sure she figured out that he wasn't being entirely on the level with her. If she figured it out she never showed a sign of it, not even when their tours ended and she came home with him for a week in May to find no girl waiting for him. The closest they ever came to talking about it for over a decade was a brief raised eyebrow and a nod one Christmas, when she happened across him with John curled up asleep against his side. He never doubted for a moment that she'd keep their secret and knew he couldn't have asked for a better friend.

Cam, John, and Sam all made captain right on schedule. For her part, Sam disappeared into some sort of top secret, very hush-hush program at the Pentagon. Cam and John managed to swing transfers to test programs at Edwards. It wasn't an ideal situation, because it was a little off the normal path for both of their career tracks and if they weren't careful it could put a crimp in their eventual promotions to major and points beyond. Cam never doubted for a second that it was worth a little risk, even without the vague feeling he got from the Guide that experience with quasi-experimental aircraft would prove useful one day.

Adjusting to actually living with John again took a while. If anything, for the first few weeks they were even more zealous about keeping up the image of two straight buddies than they had before, not quite trusting themselves not to slip up in public if they let their guard down too much in private. Eventually they did settle into a cozy domesticity and even start cautiously venturing out into town together. Working off advice from a second-removed cousin they found a local pub that, while not a gay bar in the strict sense of the word, was definitely a safe space. It gave them some place to relax and be themselves away from home. It was a small thing but to Cam it was incredibly important; John was didn't mind keeping a low profile much but it went against Cam's nature to not express his affection around others. Spending time at Lady Sally's also had the advantage of letting them actually meet other people in the same situation as them. Case in point: one Lieutenant Evan Lorne.

The Guide had this to say about Evan Lorne: "He's a good guy, great to have at your back, and one day he'll John's right-hand man. If there weren't chain of command issues, he'd have probably been sleeping with John. Hell, who knows - maybe he was." It had nothing to say about occasional threesomes. Cam supposed that was just one of those ripple effects that happened with time travel. It was certainly better than most alternatives.

They had known Lorne about a month when one Friday evening they stumbled across him coming out of a gay club. The way he suddenly came to attention with an expression of shock and dismay would have been funny it it wasn't absolutely depressing. It was John who outed them to Lorne, kissing Cam right there on the spot. It took Cam all of an hour watching John try to play experienced big brother to figure out that he was applying his increasingly fervent 'leave no one behind' principle there as well. He didn't think that Lorne was quite as naive and innocent as John appeared to believe, but the guy did seem to honestly appreciate the help John was attempting to give him in his awkward and, not the Cam would say it aloud, rather adorable way.

Lorne ended up sliding into their lives with remarkable ease, first as a friend and then as a friend with benefits. They didn't love him in the same way the loved each other, but there was certainly a deep connection there by the time they had to move on once again. With anyone else Cam might have felt threatened by a third party, but Lorne was loyal to a scary degree and that made his presence reassuring instead. Cam was no fool; he knew something could happen to him, and knowing there was someone there who could look after John if the worse happened made him feel a lot better.

Life went on. RAF Lakenheath followed Edwards for Cam, Ramstein AFB for John; it was the same continent, at least. Back home Ash managed to find a woman who would put up with him and got married. It didn't take long before before he spawned, too, which would have been frightening if little Chandler hadn't been so cute. Chandler's birth also resulted in a sudden and unexpected discussion of finances with John, because the kid magically acquired fifty grand in a college fund and further prying turned up similar funds in Skipper and Spencer's names. Cam had thought John was moderately wealthy, given the way he never thought twice about airfare; as it turned out 'moderate' was only right if you meant 'filthy rich'.

When questioned on the matter, John just shrugged and said, "It never seemed that important."

"You're sitting on ten million dollars," Cam replied, "and it's not that important?"

"Well, yeah," John said. "It's just the trust fund my grandfather left me. It's not like it's that big compared to what my dad has."

If Cam hadn't already been trying to get John reconciled with his family, he would have felt really guilty about doing it.

The metaphorical seasons turned and they hit major ahead of grade, Cam easily and John just barely squeaking in. They were stateside again, only a few hours' drive from one another. John was in a staff position at Moody AFB, taking part in the planning stages for the new Combat Rescue Officer program and, at Cam's insistence, finally making the effort to finish his damned thesis after years to fiddling with the thing. It was remarkable how much John would put up with in order to get what he wanted, even going to far as to keep his hair neatly trimmed. The new career track would offer him an out from the shadier special operations he had been working with and allow him to focus solely on pararescue, something Cam definitely thought would be good for him. He was in good company, too; Ash, in part to stay home for a few years with his wife and increasingly-numerous kids, was going mustang and joining the program once he finished a degree at UNC.

Cam, for his part, was teaching people to fly. He really hoped that he and John had never been so over-eager, egotistical, and young as the men and women he was working with. It was a scary thought.

Then, with only the barest of warnings, they were in Afghanistan. It was Bosnia all over again, only with two major differences: first, coming back to base didn't mean nights out in Italy; and second, John was there as well, right at the same base for the first time in years. It was reassuring, knowing that John was one of the men assigned to keep pilots safe; it was aggravating, having him so close but with so little privacy; it was terrifying, because John was constantly in the line of fire and Cam knew exactly how much danger he was and how close the calls were, without the mitigating 'aw shucks' wave-offs John put into letters. Cam found himself taking risks he never would have back home in order to get ten minutes for a quickie in a closet or a dark alley, just to reassure himself John was okay. John seemed to be doing better than Cam was at first, but as time wore on he seemed to get more on edge, especially on the days he didn't bring his man home alive. Neither of them said it, but it seemed like sooner or later something would have to give: either the missions or John, and it didn't seem like the operational situation was going to get better anytime soon.

Cam wasn't there when John finally gave in and fucked up big time, though. He was busy in Nevada and then stuck in the Academy hospital.

A letter from the dead drop had this to say about Project Heliotrope and the Snakeskinners: "I told you taking the position would be cool. By the way, if you're not flying spaceships about now, you've probably doomed the planet. Good going, moron."

Cam almost didn't sign up when the recruiters came around, talking about how he came highly recommended and how his skills were needed by his country. In fact, if he hadn't had a pretty good idea what they were talking about, he might not have left John. There he was, though, training to fly a genuine space fighter.

Five months later, he was leading a squadron of genuine space fighters.

By all rights he didn't have nearly the seniority to be squadron commander, but everyone with more had washed out of the program. Ironically, some of the most experienced pilots they brought in were the worst at flying the F-302. The problem was the plane itself and the environments it flew it. The 302s had inertia-dampening engines and artificial gravity generators, and worse yet it operated both in atmosphere and in space, where gravity worked in radically different ways. The end result was a plane that utterly fucked with everyone's carefully-honed reflexes and required extraordinary adaptability on the pilots' parts. Experience test pilots failed, experienced combat pilots failed, while in most cases young captains and even one anomalous lieutenant who had originally been there as part of the design team succeeded. In the end Cam was left as the senior-most pilot, and the next thing he knew he had a brevet promotion to light bird six months before he was even supposed to be thinking about a promotion board and orders to turn a gaggle of inexperienced pilots into the planet's premier aerospace fighting force.

Cam just about shit his pants at that pronouncement.

He did his best, but he also worried that his best might not be enough. He knew what would be coming in January, knew that Cam Senior had done his best and still lost most of his kids. Cam found himself pouring over the Guide for hints at what was the most important to focus on and cursed the fact that Cam Senior had been so frugal with the details. Timeline be damned, he wanted his people to live. The only reason he didn't call Hammond and sound the warning was that he couldn't be sure he wouldn't blow their best shot at winning the damn war.

January came; SG-1 went to save the world and the Snakeskinners rode to their rescue in turn. Half the squadron went down despite his efforts, but that was fewer than might have otherwise. Even knowing what was coming Cam still managed to get himself shot in the ass covering SG-1's cargo ship and crashed into a fucking glacier.

The Guide had a lot to say about physical therapy. In fact, after John it was probably the longest and most coherent single section. Mostly it was encouraging, telling him that he had made it through once and that he could make it through again, and that if he didn't then Cam Senior would find some way to travel back to the future and kick his ass.

As it turned out, Cam wasn't quite as bad off as he would have been otherwise, which was good: it meant that he woke up before anyone thought to tell John how badly he was hurt and he could do something absolutely crazy like fly all the way from Antarctica. He was pretty sure that sooner or later Momma was going to figure out that he wasn't telling John everything, but by then he would be safely off in Atlantis like he was supposed to be. Admittedly, that wasn't where Cam wanted him to be, but ten pain-filled minutes talking with John on the phone told him exactly how messed up he was. He was disillusioned and missing all the casual, cocky confidence he usually had. If Atlantis could restore that in Cam Senior's John and give him a real home to boot, then Cam would send his John off in a heartbeat. He would have gone along if he could have, but his body wouldn't cooperate.

It took four months before he could get out of a wheelchair; three more after that before he could do much more than wobble around for a few minutes. The doctors told him that some of the damage to his inner ear and nerves might never be fully repaired, even with the SGC's advanced medical technology, but the potential loss of combat piloting wasn't a huge concern to him. He had finally figured out who T, S, and D were, and while V was still missing Cam knew in his heart where he belonged. He knew he could have any job he wanted, maybe even a starship command, but the chance of exploring the galaxy with people he'd been dreaming about for damn near fifteen years was too much to pass up. So he applied himself, got his body back in shape while sucking down ever last bit of information about SG-1 and cramming classes at Air War College in between physiotherapy sessions so that he'd be ready when the time came, and counted down the days when he'd get his team and his man would come home again.

Of course, the universe could never make things that simple for Cam. When he finally was ready for duty, his team was in the process of scattering across three planets in two galaxies. He figured that was just a minor setback. Something would come up to keep them there, and if not, he'd find a way to make it happen.

Also, John punched him in the face when they were reunited, but again: that was just a detail. So was the minor matter of an intergalactic gulf between. John looked happier than Cam had seen him in years and as badly as Cam missed him that happiness was the most important thing. It wouldn't be the first time they had to spend a few years apart but for fleeting visits.

Besides, who knew? Maybe some day Cam could find his way out to Pegasus and join him.