Five times Cam trusted a teammate (before getting the band back together)
Title: Five times Cam trusted a teammate (before getting the band back together)
Fandom: SG-1
Rating: Gen
Com: sg1_five_things, Prompt 80.01 Five times Cam trusted a teammate when it seemed like a bad idea
1) Small Forward (Darrell Grimes)
The Mustangs from Blue Valley North have a center built like a brick shithouse, but their forwards are slow off the rebound and Steiner is sinking every three-point shot he takes. When the buzzer goes off at the end of the first half Cam feels like he shouldn’t dare think it but looking around he knows they are all thinking it: State Championship Finals. They are here and they are (don’t think it) winning. When Wilkins goes down with a sprained ankle three minutes into the second half and Darrell is brought off the bench, Cam ignores the sudden unease slipping a cold sweat down his neck. A point guard has to know his team, its strengths and weaknesses. It is his duty to set up plays on the court with an eye on the clock, his duty to find openings for his teammates to score, his duty to steal, to pass, to set the pace and control the ball. A point guard is the first to hustle on offense and the first to defend when the offensive play goes to shit. A good point guard is not recognized by how often he scores, but by the number of his assists. Cam has always been good on point. This is why he doesn’t sweat it when Darrell is called on four personal fouls in as many minutes. This is why he doesn’t hesitate when they are tied with only seconds on the clock and Darrell is open inside the paint. Cam smiles as he passes the ball, knowing they have already won.
2) Wingman (Cadet Bryce Ferguson)
“You are such a boy scout.”
Contrary to public opinion, Cam had never been a boy scout but he swallows the ritual protest. “I am serious Bryce. Not one word, you hear?”
Ferguson lets him squirm for a moment - pen tapping idly against the desktop - before nodding his agreement. It is enough; he knows Fergie won’t say anything. Never mind that whatever time Bryce had that wasn’t in a cockpit or classroom he spent talking. The man just can’t hold water, but Cam trusts him. Never mind the times that hadn’t worked out in the past. Never mind the Polaroids that Carter still has to prove it.
Cam’s conviction is given its first shakedown when Ferguson saunters into the Academy mess that night with Torres trailing behind him in a full on snit. There is no way to duck out fast enough.
“Mitchell!” Torres barks “Where were you yesterday? Even your girlfriend missed you.”
His “girlfriend” is a tightlipped Waffle House waitress with an iron-helmet perm and the soul of a Chief Master Sergeant. She has about as much use for cocky cadets as a senior NCO (that is to say, no use at all) but she never charges Cam for his coffee either, which is as close as anyone has ever come to an indication that she found them charming. Cam shrugs his best gosh-sorry-but-it’s-nothin’-really shrug. “Got caught up.”
Never much amenable to Cam’s brand of charm, Torres folds his arms rigidly against his chest and says “Try again”
Ferguson, the bastard, says nothing helpful. Their shadow (Eric? Evan? Fergie’s newly adopted doolie and not entirely housetrained) scents blood and chooses to pipe up: “Hot date? I heard…”
Ferguson, bless the bastard, interrupts his own minion. “Let’s hope not. A date is wasted on Camshaft. More interested in the car a woman drives than the woman driving.”
“Oh, shut your mouth.” Cam snaps back.
Ferguson claps a congenial arm around Cam. “You see this cat Shaft is a bad mother-”
“Heaven as my witness, Ferguson, one more word” Cam begins… and this time, as each of his objections are met with more badly butchered lyrics (Who is the man that would risk his neck for his brother man? You’re a dead man, brother. Can you dig it? ) even Torres laughs along, successfully distracted.
He knows the price of a virtuous Bryce is far above rubies, so he’s none too surprised when Bryce sprints across the east quarter of the Terrazzo that next Sunday, flagging him down with a ringing call of “Shaft!” Cam would not, by God, allow that name to stick to him.
“Waffle House?” Ferguson asks.
“Waffle House.” he confirms. “I’ll buy.” Bryce’s answering smile is warm and unguarded, and the honesty there flushes Cam’s cheeks with shame. The other cadets are never the wiser. The callsign, unfortunately, sticks.
3) Forward Air Control (Major Abraham Ellis)
Their target coordinates are confirmed by a FAC flying a LANTRIN-equipped F-16 in their kill box. 150 miles out he contacts the Forward Air Controller, gets the coordinated in the clear, and calculates time to target. Operation Deliberate Force is one year and sixteen hundred miles from his last rotation on Operation Southern Watch. The 510th flies out of the green fields of Aviano, Italy; the 33rd TFS of the 363rd Tactical Fighter Wing was shuttered at the beginning of ‘94 and he hasn’t seen desert since. Still - it feels like fighting against a dead limb with every target he acquires and fires; a hiccup of somatic reflexes, a knee jerk stopped mid-kick. It’s not that he doesn’t trust the FAC, even when the FAC in question is Old Abe (the ass is an ass, but he is an accurate ass). It’s not that he don’t trust Command. The mission is different, the intel is solid. Still - he hesitates every time. He can’t help but hesitate. Cam knows he has to kill this before it gets him killed.
4) Combat Systems Officer (1st Lt. Adam Banks)
Cam almost runs over his CSO when the kid slams into Major Redmond and drops the wire spools he was hauling. He shifts the case of couplings in his arms, but Cam’s heels are stepped on as the man behind him is also brought up short. “Make way!” DeLuca calls from the back of the line, as Redmond swings around straight into Adam Banks and glowers down at the hapless lieutenant, who is little more than 120 pounds of nervous jitter and Staten Island accent.
“Fish or cut bait, Red” Cam calls out sharply. The docking bay is Prometheus’ flightline, airstrip, and hanger all in one. There isn’t enough room to swing a dead cat, much less dawdle. Redmond blinks at Cam, but thinks better of whatever he was about to say. Taking the opportunity to scoop up his wire, Banks skitters out of Red’s reach. Redmond doesn’t clear out, just shifts out of the way to watch Cam and Adam help the deck crew stow the final load of gear. Cam doesn’t know what exactly Red is doing, can never really suss out what the man is thinking beyond the usual vague resentment. The last thing he expects is an invitation to a bridge tournament. Scratch that. The very last thing Cam expects when Redmond invites him to play cards is that it’s gonna be Banks who cheerfully accepts on both their behalves.
Cam already knows that Banks is more competent than anyone gives him credit for; he is Cam’s combat systems officer for a goddamned good reason. Yet when it comes down to shelling out money for the pot, watching Red shuffle the deck with reckless confidence, Cam resigns himself to being a graceful loser. The boy just wasn’t made for betting it big. Which is why, three boards into the tournament and seeing the predatory glint in his partner’s easy smile, Cam is the first to wonder what in sweet hell happened to polite, fidgety and impossibly young First Lieutenant Banks.
“1 heart”
“Double”
“3 hearts”
“3 spades”
“Pass”
“4 spades”
“Pass”
“Pass”
“Pass”
Red and Thompson lose the bidding; Cam is the dummy as Banks was the first one to call spades as the trump. Cam exposes his cards, laying them out by suit and sits back to watch Banks run the game. The dummy is not allowed to play his own hand or even comment as his partner plays for him. It’s never been a role that sits easy on Cam’s shoulders but as Adam mercilessly racks up all ten tricks they need to match their bid, Cam finds himself unusually content.
Banks flushes happily and Redmond turns a satisfying shade of crimson when they win the final trick of the evening, though it seems both men are aiming to surprise him tonight. Without a trace of resentment, Red raises his glass to Banks and Cam. “Well played.”
Cam tips back the last of his drink with a chuff of amusement, raising his own glass in salute to his CSO. “Grandma always said: seek an honest partner in marriage and a ruthless one in bridge.”
Adam just laughs. “I have a Grandma too, you know.”
5) USSPACECOM Commanding Officer (Maj Gen Jack O’Neill)
“He said you're going to be fine, Mitchell.” He wants nothing more than to believe this man, wants to believe in what he knows the General intends for him to hear in that statement. Permission. A Not-Quite-Blessing. Begrudging, hell yes, but Cam knew never to expect anything less. Maybe he could believe it (both what’s said and unsaid) if it were coming from any man other than this one. Lord, he wants to believe.
Or Part One, Part Two, and Part Three at sg1_five_things,
Fandom: SG-1
Rating: Gen
Com: sg1_five_things, Prompt 80.01 Five times Cam trusted a teammate when it seemed like a bad idea
1) Small Forward (Darrell Grimes)
The Mustangs from Blue Valley North have a center built like a brick shithouse, but their forwards are slow off the rebound and Steiner is sinking every three-point shot he takes. When the buzzer goes off at the end of the first half Cam feels like he shouldn’t dare think it but looking around he knows they are all thinking it: State Championship Finals. They are here and they are (don’t think it) winning. When Wilkins goes down with a sprained ankle three minutes into the second half and Darrell is brought off the bench, Cam ignores the sudden unease slipping a cold sweat down his neck. A point guard has to know his team, its strengths and weaknesses. It is his duty to set up plays on the court with an eye on the clock, his duty to find openings for his teammates to score, his duty to steal, to pass, to set the pace and control the ball. A point guard is the first to hustle on offense and the first to defend when the offensive play goes to shit. A good point guard is not recognized by how often he scores, but by the number of his assists. Cam has always been good on point. This is why he doesn’t sweat it when Darrell is called on four personal fouls in as many minutes. This is why he doesn’t hesitate when they are tied with only seconds on the clock and Darrell is open inside the paint. Cam smiles as he passes the ball, knowing they have already won.
2) Wingman (Cadet Bryce Ferguson)
“You are such a boy scout.”
Contrary to public opinion, Cam had never been a boy scout but he swallows the ritual protest. “I am serious Bryce. Not one word, you hear?”
Ferguson lets him squirm for a moment - pen tapping idly against the desktop - before nodding his agreement. It is enough; he knows Fergie won’t say anything. Never mind that whatever time Bryce had that wasn’t in a cockpit or classroom he spent talking. The man just can’t hold water, but Cam trusts him. Never mind the times that hadn’t worked out in the past. Never mind the Polaroids that Carter still has to prove it.
Cam’s conviction is given its first shakedown when Ferguson saunters into the Academy mess that night with Torres trailing behind him in a full on snit. There is no way to duck out fast enough.
“Mitchell!” Torres barks “Where were you yesterday? Even your girlfriend missed you.”
His “girlfriend” is a tightlipped Waffle House waitress with an iron-helmet perm and the soul of a Chief Master Sergeant. She has about as much use for cocky cadets as a senior NCO (that is to say, no use at all) but she never charges Cam for his coffee either, which is as close as anyone has ever come to an indication that she found them charming. Cam shrugs his best gosh-sorry-but-it’s-nothin’-really shrug. “Got caught up.”
Never much amenable to Cam’s brand of charm, Torres folds his arms rigidly against his chest and says “Try again”
Ferguson, the bastard, says nothing helpful. Their shadow (Eric? Evan? Fergie’s newly adopted doolie and not entirely housetrained) scents blood and chooses to pipe up: “Hot date? I heard…”
Ferguson, bless the bastard, interrupts his own minion. “Let’s hope not. A date is wasted on Camshaft. More interested in the car a woman drives than the woman driving.”
“Oh, shut your mouth.” Cam snaps back.
Ferguson claps a congenial arm around Cam. “You see this cat Shaft is a bad mother-”
“Heaven as my witness, Ferguson, one more word” Cam begins… and this time, as each of his objections are met with more badly butchered lyrics (Who is the man that would risk his neck for his brother man? You’re a dead man, brother. Can you dig it? ) even Torres laughs along, successfully distracted.
He knows the price of a virtuous Bryce is far above rubies, so he’s none too surprised when Bryce sprints across the east quarter of the Terrazzo that next Sunday, flagging him down with a ringing call of “Shaft!” Cam would not, by God, allow that name to stick to him.
“Waffle House?” Ferguson asks.
“Waffle House.” he confirms. “I’ll buy.” Bryce’s answering smile is warm and unguarded, and the honesty there flushes Cam’s cheeks with shame. The other cadets are never the wiser. The callsign, unfortunately, sticks.
3) Forward Air Control (Major Abraham Ellis)
Their target coordinates are confirmed by a FAC flying a LANTRIN-equipped F-16 in their kill box. 150 miles out he contacts the Forward Air Controller, gets the coordinated in the clear, and calculates time to target. Operation Deliberate Force is one year and sixteen hundred miles from his last rotation on Operation Southern Watch. The 510th flies out of the green fields of Aviano, Italy; the 33rd TFS of the 363rd Tactical Fighter Wing was shuttered at the beginning of ‘94 and he hasn’t seen desert since. Still - it feels like fighting against a dead limb with every target he acquires and fires; a hiccup of somatic reflexes, a knee jerk stopped mid-kick. It’s not that he doesn’t trust the FAC, even when the FAC in question is Old Abe (the ass is an ass, but he is an accurate ass). It’s not that he don’t trust Command. The mission is different, the intel is solid. Still - he hesitates every time. He can’t help but hesitate. Cam knows he has to kill this before it gets him killed.
4) Combat Systems Officer (1st Lt. Adam Banks)
Cam almost runs over his CSO when the kid slams into Major Redmond and drops the wire spools he was hauling. He shifts the case of couplings in his arms, but Cam’s heels are stepped on as the man behind him is also brought up short. “Make way!” DeLuca calls from the back of the line, as Redmond swings around straight into Adam Banks and glowers down at the hapless lieutenant, who is little more than 120 pounds of nervous jitter and Staten Island accent.
“Fish or cut bait, Red” Cam calls out sharply. The docking bay is Prometheus’ flightline, airstrip, and hanger all in one. There isn’t enough room to swing a dead cat, much less dawdle. Redmond blinks at Cam, but thinks better of whatever he was about to say. Taking the opportunity to scoop up his wire, Banks skitters out of Red’s reach. Redmond doesn’t clear out, just shifts out of the way to watch Cam and Adam help the deck crew stow the final load of gear. Cam doesn’t know what exactly Red is doing, can never really suss out what the man is thinking beyond the usual vague resentment. The last thing he expects is an invitation to a bridge tournament. Scratch that. The very last thing Cam expects when Redmond invites him to play cards is that it’s gonna be Banks who cheerfully accepts on both their behalves.
Cam already knows that Banks is more competent than anyone gives him credit for; he is Cam’s combat systems officer for a goddamned good reason. Yet when it comes down to shelling out money for the pot, watching Red shuffle the deck with reckless confidence, Cam resigns himself to being a graceful loser. The boy just wasn’t made for betting it big. Which is why, three boards into the tournament and seeing the predatory glint in his partner’s easy smile, Cam is the first to wonder what in sweet hell happened to polite, fidgety and impossibly young First Lieutenant Banks.
“1 heart”
“Double”
“3 hearts”
“3 spades”
“Pass”
“4 spades”
“Pass”
“Pass”
“Pass”
Red and Thompson lose the bidding; Cam is the dummy as Banks was the first one to call spades as the trump. Cam exposes his cards, laying them out by suit and sits back to watch Banks run the game. The dummy is not allowed to play his own hand or even comment as his partner plays for him. It’s never been a role that sits easy on Cam’s shoulders but as Adam mercilessly racks up all ten tricks they need to match their bid, Cam finds himself unusually content.
Banks flushes happily and Redmond turns a satisfying shade of crimson when they win the final trick of the evening, though it seems both men are aiming to surprise him tonight. Without a trace of resentment, Red raises his glass to Banks and Cam. “Well played.”
Cam tips back the last of his drink with a chuff of amusement, raising his own glass in salute to his CSO. “Grandma always said: seek an honest partner in marriage and a ruthless one in bridge.”
Adam just laughs. “I have a Grandma too, you know.”
5) USSPACECOM Commanding Officer (Maj Gen Jack O’Neill)
“He said you're going to be fine, Mitchell.” He wants nothing more than to believe this man, wants to believe in what he knows the General intends for him to hear in that statement. Permission. A Not-Quite-Blessing. Begrudging, hell yes, but Cam knew never to expect anything less. Maybe he could believe it (both what’s said and unsaid) if it were coming from any man other than this one. Lord, he wants to believe.
Or Part One, Part Two, and Part Three at sg1_five_things,