Work Text:
“Do you have this book in stock?”
Cam looked down at the slip of paper the man was handing out to him. In his dreams, the paper always had a phone number or a little message (maybe in hiaku) about how cute his butt was. It had happened to Vala enough, until Daniel had finally worked up the courage to ask her out instead of revealing his infatuation in notes, that Cam always considered it a possibility when he was handed a piece of paper.
But, alas, it was not to be. The slip of paper only had one word on it, Flight. “I’m going to need more information than this.” Cam made the mistake of looking up into blue eyes that snapped with humor, set in a face that was much more lined now that he was only across the desk and not across the room. “I’m a librarian. Not a mind reader.”
“My nephew recommended it. It’s a graphic novel. He thinks I might like it.” There was a pause, allowing Cam to garner all the information he could from those two sentences. And then the granddaddy of all information. “I’m a pilot.”
A cold rush of air seemed to rush straight through Cam’s heart and he turned away. The last thing he needed right now was someone reminding him of everything he couldn’t have. Wasn’t it bad enough that he saw the scars from the accident every day in the mirror or that the tremor in his hand on the keyboard, even now, was acting up just at the mention of the word? He’d been a pilot once, too. The skies had been his for the taking. And he’d taken, all right. He’d taken everything and more, right up until he’d ended up in the middle of a burning heap of metal on top of a Colorado mountain.
“We don’t have that book,” Cam mumbled, staring at his computer screen until the man finally got the hint and left.
***
John wasn’t exactly sure where he’d gone wrong. Things had looked promising until he’d opened his mouth and then the librarian with the killer smile had closed off. It wasn’t like he’d said he kicked kittens or threw rocks at small children as they walked to school. Why was he getting the cold shoulder?
“I messed up.” He all but threw himself into the seat across from Teyla, his throat burning with tears he hadn’t been aware he was needing to shed. Instead of giving in to the more dreary of his emotion cavalcade, he clung to anger. “He closed off so tightly I don’t think he’s going to unclench for an hour. Damn him for being so attractive. Librarians shouldn’t look so good in button down shirts with their sleeves rolled halfway up their arms and the top button undone so it shows just the barest hint of collarbone. And today was the Saturday shirt. You know I love the Saturday shirt with the faintest hint of distressed elbows which means he’ll probably have to get a new shirt soon and move another shirt to Saturday. God, I miss this shirt already.”
After carefully saving her work on the tiny laptop she carried with her everywhere, Teyla closed the lid and studied John as if he was one of her new recruits, scared to put on the new badge and crisp police uniform. In a way, that’s exactly what he was. John would have been more than happy to stare at Cam from across the lobby for the rest of his life. He would have been happy to never say a thing, keeping the man’s perfection a dream forever.
“Quit.”
John looked up, having expected at least a little sympathy. Instead, Teyla was glaring at him. “Ouch,” he responded, feeling a little let down that she wasn’t simpering and telling him it was going to be okay and he could get through life without the one man who made his heart beat like no other. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“I am not here to be nice, John. If you wanted nice you should have gone to Jennifer. She would be able to commiserate with you over how stupid men are and how you are better off without them. Instead, you picked me. I told you from the very start that I did not do grief counselling. I get results and this,” she slapped his cheek enough to make him sit up straight so as to get further away from her, “is not results.”
“But-”
“No buts,” she interrupted. “Tell me what happened. Just the facts, though. I do not care about what you think you were feeling at the time or what you thought he was feeling. You have a tendency to forget and embellish.”
“No embellishment.” John sighed, wishing he had gone to Jennifer with this. Instead, he stiffened his spine and gave her the facts and only the facts.
***
Cam hated Christmas. It was too stressful and he never got what he wanted. How many socks and ties did he really need? Coworkers and patrons, alike, were tightly wound and pedantic in a way that always made him tired and cranky.
But he was really tired and cranky because he hadn’t seen the one man he’d been expecting to see. Two weeks was a long time to stare at the chair across the lobby, waiting for the right man to come along. He hadn’t expected his rebuff to actually send the man away forever. What he wouldn’t give to turn back time so they were back to silently staring at each other whenever they thought the other wasn’t looking. He’d liked that.
“Hold it a little higher. Cam, I need you to concentrate just a little bit on this or we’re going to be hanging garland all afternoon.”
He glanced down at Sam, offering a small smile as an apology. “I thought we volunteered to open the new book boxes.”
“We did not. You volunteered for that duty and I unvolunteered you. Since you won’t decorate your apartment, it’ll be good for you to help decorate the library. Perhaps it can help you come to appreciate the holiday more.”
“I don’t do Christmas,” he stated in a monotone.
“That’s too bad.”
Cam jerked his head around to stare at the man who was standing behind him, gazing up with those eyes that Cam figured he’d never see again. And the hair was floppy today, not mussed or sticking out in all different directions. He missed the messy hair with an ache that he just couldn’t figure out.
Before he could formulate a response (he was torn between We don’t allow pilots in the library and My god, I’ve missed you, one of which was a blatant lie and the other was too much of the truth), the man held up a brightly wrapped package. “I come bearing presents.”
“What is it? A tie?” Cam watched as the man’s eyes strayed to the tie currently hanging loosely around his neck. It was black, a statement against the bright colors all around him during the holiday season. While he technically didn’t have to wear ties as part of the dress code, he had so many of them that he felt compelled to wear them so they didn’t hang in the closet, gathering dust.
“Nope. I thought I’d go with cliche and get you a book. You going to come down to open it or would you rather I just handed it up to you?”
Sam cleared her throat. “I’ll just go help unpack the new books. It’s nice to see you, John.”
“Nice to see you, too, Sam. Happy holidays.”
“You know his name?” Cam watched as his friend walked away without a backward glance. Traitor. All this time, he’d talked about the guy with the floppy hair and she’d gone a befriended him behind his back. “How does she know your name?”
The other man shrugged, his face set in an innocent expression that Cam didn’t buy for one second. “I have a library card. Easy enough to look up. Or, maybe she knows it because when I asked her to help me find the book my nephew wanted me to get, she asked.”
“You really wanted the graphic novel?”
John nodded, keeping silent as he set the present on the counter. After making sure it was situated just right, a moment of OCD that made him just that little bit more human and less of an impossible dream, he turned back and gave Cam a smile. “Happy holidays, Cam. I hope you have a good Christmas this year.”
Cam couldn’t think of a single thing to say to the retreating figure that might make him turn around. Instead, he stared at the present and tried to figure out why this was happening to him now that he’d finally decided he was okay with his mundane, gray life.
***
I don’t think it worked. John hit send and waited for the reply before turning the key to start his beat-up Camero. As cold as it was, he’d have to let it warm up before he even thought about pulling out of the parking lot. All the better to marinate in his defeat. He’d come to do the only thing he could think of, as subtle and yet as outgoing as he dared. His phone number was taped to the cover, an offering that he hoped the man would take.
You don’t know that yet. Give him time. Ronon, his best friend since those early days in the military when he still thought serving his country was going to be simple and fun, was surprisingly optimistic. Teyla had probably threatened him with bodily harm if he was anything but, so John wasn’t trying to read anything into it, like maybe he was feeling sorry for his friend who smiled and flirted but never touched or, heaven forbid, dated.
I’m giving him until New Years and then I’m going to find a different library.
Golly, don’t turn your life upside down or anything. John read the eye roll into Ronon’s message but then smiled as the follow up beeped in before he’d come up with a response. Did you kiss him? That would have changed his mind.
He was on a ladder.
John jumped as someone tapped on his fogged windows. The heating system in the old girl just wasn’t up to snuff for these cold winters. He rolled the window down a crack, surprised to see crystal blue eyes peering back at him.
“It’s cold out here. Care if I join you?”
John’s phone beeped and he looked down, his brain confused by what it was supposed to be doing. That shouldn’t have stopped you. I’m disappointed, Sheppard. Go get him.
***
Cam ran his hands over his upper arm, trying to figure out if he’d been an idiot for coming out in the cold just because he’d noticed that John hadn’t driven away as soon as he’d started his car. It had seemed like an invitation.
Now he wasn’t so sure as he watched John stare at his phone. After what seemed like an eternity as his skin chilled, John leaned over and unlocked the passenger side. Without thinking it through, Cam circled the car and slid into a meticulously clean interior.
“Cool car.” It was such a lame phrase that Cam’s ears instantly turned pink. He’d had such little practice at small talk lately that he was pretty sure he’d lost the knowledge of how to do it. “What, uh, year is it?”
John was still staring at his phone. It beeped a couple more times but he didn’t move to respond. After a long silence, he finally turned to Cam. “Does it really bother you that I’m a pilot? I don’t fly anything really exciting. Not since I got out of the service. Me and a friend of mine own a small charter business so I’m out of town one week out of each month. Most people are impressed.”
“I used to fly jets for the Air Force. Until I crashed.” The tension ratcheted up considerably at Cam’s admission. No one else but Sam knew the particulars and even those were just the partial facts that covered the basics of the story so that he didn’t have to hide his tremor or the scars that showed if he wore a short-sleeved shirt.
“Afghanistan?”
Cam shook his head. “No, I made it out of there in one piece which is strange, seeing how often I was in danger.”
Instead of staring at him in horror-filled awe like he’d always figured an audience would, John was nodding along. “Were you?” Cam asked, suddenly more interested in the give and take of the conversation than the pain of his admission. “In Afghanistan?”
“Twice. A few times in Korea. They wanted to give me a desk job and I turned them down. If I’m going to work behind a desk, it’s not going to be one where the military can breath down my neck all day long.”
Cam smiled. It surprised him as much as it did John. “I hear you. They make excellent trainers but horrible bosses.”
“You want to go get a drink?” John seemed surprised by his own question but he only clamped his mouth shut instead of taking it back.
It hurt to have to shake his head because Cam really wanted to buckle the seat belt and let this guy take him wherever it was that he wanted to go. “I’m technically still on the clock. They frown on drinking during work hours.”
“I meant... tonight. After work.”
“Oh.” Now it was Cam’s turn to redden. “Sure.”
“I’ll pick you up after closing.” As if to seal the deal, John leaned over and kissed Cam on the mouth. Dark eyes stared into crystal before both sets slid shut.
***
One year later...
“Will you quit whistling Christmas carols? You’re giving me a headache.” Sam glared at Cam over the reading glasses she’d only recently had to start using. These made her look like a sexy librarian but there was no way that Cam was going to say things like that when he was within striking range.
“What would you like me to whistle? I can take requests.”
“You know, I liked you so much better when you sullen. What happened to that sad man, Cam? He hated Christmas and never whistled. I liked him.”
Cam blew her a kiss as he made a face. “Dead and buried on the side of a Colorado mountain, right where he belonged. If it’ll make it easier on you, I will quit whistling for the next,” he consulted his watch, “fifteen minutes.”
“Why fifteen?”
“Because that’s when my shift ends and my ride gets here.”
Sam took off the glasses, leaning back in her chair. “Ah, yes. Your Christmas vacation. Where is he taking you again?”
“The Cook Islands and, technically, I’m taking him. His plane but I get to fly.” He stuttered a bit on the last word. It was still new, being the one behind the stick once again. It had taken months before he’d been able to follow John into one of the planes but then it had been the next natural step to start flying them again. The nightmares had been horrible but he hadn’t been alone with his demons, trembling in the middle of the night with no one around to stop the shivering. This time around hadn’t been any easier but John had never left him.
“I’m really proud of you.”
He let Sam’s soft words cut through his daydreaming. She glanced down at the ring on his left hand that he was subconsciously worrying with his fingers, unsure of the new weight there. “And yours is an equally impressive gift. Have you set a date yet?”
“Christmas, next year.” His smile was wide and genuine. “It’s my favorite holiday.”