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Don't know where this snippet came from...
Title: The Replacement
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Characters: Cam/Daniel (Implied Jack/Daniel)
Rating: PG13
Category: Owie angst.
Summary: He’s been fighting urges for so long that he can’t even remember what it’s like to give in to them anymore.
Probably shouldn’t have just walked in…
Jack is standing at the foot of Daniel’s bed, gripping the key he’s just used so hard that when he looks later, there will be a fine imprint of the teeth in the fleshy part of his palm.
He turns and stiffly leaves the room, heading for the kitchen.
Half an hour later, Cameron wanders into the sun dappled entryway and freezes, one fist in the middle of rubbing an eye and the other scratching his bare belly, just above the pajama pants he’s wearing. His eyes go round and glassy as he stares at the General sitting in the kitchen nook before him, slowly sipping a cup of steaming coffee.
Jack silently pushes a second cup over but Cameron can only stare at it mutely. “Have a seat, son,” Jack says, his voice sounding hollow and Cameron automatically crosses the room and slides into the seat opposite, like it was an order.
Cameron is still looking poleaxed.
Jack sighs, knowing that he did this, put this man here, but he can’t help feeling the rage that simmers just under the surface of his skin. He grips the coffee mug in his hands, wanting nothing more than to smash it on the table edge and drive the sharp pieces into Cameron’s face, but he doesn’t.
He’s been fighting urges for so long that he can’t even remember what it’s like to give in to them anymore.
“I still have a key,” he says by way of explanation, chuckling hollowly like it’s a sick joke.
“I didn’t…” Cameron begins and there is so many ways for that sentence to go that he seems at a loss to pick one. Cameron's eyes tick towards the hallway leading to the bedroom and back again, as if he’s deciding whether it would be better or worse for Daniel to appear at that moment.
“Are you…?” Cameron tries again, a slight tremor under his voice, but the attempt proves equally abortive as he instead stares down into the coffee mug in front of him, as if looking for answers. “I mean… Daniel didn’t tell me that you…he didn’t say that-“
“We’re not,” Jack says, the rage dialing back to a dull and miserable anger but at what, he isn’t sure anymore. “Together,” he clarifies, as if there could have been any mistaking what he was intimating.
“Right,” Cameron nods, a single bob of the head. “So this would be bad for me then.”
Jack rolls his eyes and pushes his mug away, the coffee sitting sour in his stomach. “I’m not… Jesus, I’m not going to bust you,” Jack sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Daniel and I…” He waves a hand in a helpless gesture, “Were.”
When Cameron meets his gaze, he can see the question there.
Were what?
That’s not something Jack thinks he can answer.
Not now and unfortunately not then, when it mattered.
“I should go,” Jack says, leaning sideways and sliding out of the other side of the kitchen nook. He’d always hated Daniel’s weird penchant for bench seats. There was no real dignified way to get out of them.
“Shouldn’t…don’t you want me to get Daniel?” Cameron asks, blinking slowly. He still looks a little shell-shocked and sleep addled, like maybe all this is still a nightmare he can wake up from.
“Why?” Jack asks, pausing in the entryway, one hand already on the door. Cameron actually thinks about it, studying his hands before looking up again.
“I’ll tell him-“
“No," Jack sighs. "Just... don't."
Title: The Replacement
Author:
kellifer_ficCharacters: Cam/Daniel (Implied Jack/Daniel)
Rating: PG13
Category: Owie angst.
Summary: He’s been fighting urges for so long that he can’t even remember what it’s like to give in to them anymore.
Probably shouldn’t have just walked in…
Jack is standing at the foot of Daniel’s bed, gripping the key he’s just used so hard that when he looks later, there will be a fine imprint of the teeth in the fleshy part of his palm.
He turns and stiffly leaves the room, heading for the kitchen.
Half an hour later, Cameron wanders into the sun dappled entryway and freezes, one fist in the middle of rubbing an eye and the other scratching his bare belly, just above the pajama pants he’s wearing. His eyes go round and glassy as he stares at the General sitting in the kitchen nook before him, slowly sipping a cup of steaming coffee.
Jack silently pushes a second cup over but Cameron can only stare at it mutely. “Have a seat, son,” Jack says, his voice sounding hollow and Cameron automatically crosses the room and slides into the seat opposite, like it was an order.
Cameron is still looking poleaxed.
Jack sighs, knowing that he did this, put this man here, but he can’t help feeling the rage that simmers just under the surface of his skin. He grips the coffee mug in his hands, wanting nothing more than to smash it on the table edge and drive the sharp pieces into Cameron’s face, but he doesn’t.
He’s been fighting urges for so long that he can’t even remember what it’s like to give in to them anymore.
“I still have a key,” he says by way of explanation, chuckling hollowly like it’s a sick joke.
“I didn’t…” Cameron begins and there is so many ways for that sentence to go that he seems at a loss to pick one. Cameron's eyes tick towards the hallway leading to the bedroom and back again, as if he’s deciding whether it would be better or worse for Daniel to appear at that moment.
“Are you…?” Cameron tries again, a slight tremor under his voice, but the attempt proves equally abortive as he instead stares down into the coffee mug in front of him, as if looking for answers. “I mean… Daniel didn’t tell me that you…he didn’t say that-“
“We’re not,” Jack says, the rage dialing back to a dull and miserable anger but at what, he isn’t sure anymore. “Together,” he clarifies, as if there could have been any mistaking what he was intimating.
“Right,” Cameron nods, a single bob of the head. “So this would be bad for me then.”
Jack rolls his eyes and pushes his mug away, the coffee sitting sour in his stomach. “I’m not… Jesus, I’m not going to bust you,” Jack sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Daniel and I…” He waves a hand in a helpless gesture, “Were.”
When Cameron meets his gaze, he can see the question there.
Were what?
That’s not something Jack thinks he can answer.
Not now and unfortunately not then, when it mattered.
“I should go,” Jack says, leaning sideways and sliding out of the other side of the kitchen nook. He’d always hated Daniel’s weird penchant for bench seats. There was no real dignified way to get out of them.
“Shouldn’t…don’t you want me to get Daniel?” Cameron asks, blinking slowly. He still looks a little shell-shocked and sleep addled, like maybe all this is still a nightmare he can wake up from.
“Why?” Jack asks, pausing in the entryway, one hand already on the door. Cameron actually thinks about it, studying his hands before looking up again.
“I’ll tell him-“
“No," Jack sighs. "Just... don't."
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