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Floating cities are hard to hide, so Atlantis splashing down in San Francisco harbour pretty much forced the IOA's hand, not to mention that of a bunch of world leaders.
There'd been so much advance panic about declassification that the reality was something of an anticlimax. Not the apocalyptic scenarios with world riots, xenophobia and mass uprisings the naysayers had predicted, just the usual media feeding frenzy. Decades of reality television world-wide had left Earth's population hardened to weird shit, and in the end it was just another Syfy show, another ninety-day wonder.
The main problem, John thought, standing on the pier and glaring out at the throng of boats ringing the edge of the shield, was the goddam tourists. Another copter buzzed them, cameras glinting as the news crew got their obligatory footage for the day. The shield kept them out, but it offered no protection from gawkers and the media, and it was the shield or the cloak, although Rodney was working on a way to run both functions at once, before they all went crazy.
Cam stepped up beside him. "Is that a cruise ship?"
"Yeah," said John morosely. "They pack them full of tourists and bring 'em out to circle around the city a few times. Alien-watching with champagne cocktails and finger-food."
"Awesome," said Cam, grinning. He'd been stuck in the Mountain until the worst of the excitement died down, and then forced to go on the talk-show circuit with Sam and Teal'c. After a couple of months of that shit, a week's leave in Atlantis behind the shield was a welcome respite.
Cam looked across at John, who seemed a little haggard, the silver above his ears more prominent than it had been a few months back. Cam kind of liked it though; it gave John gravitas. The media loved him, and he'd done his share of interviews – one of the big stars, the pilot hero of Pegasus. Only Ronon and Teyla were more in demand, and Hermiod. The geeks just loved Hermiod, and confirming all their conspiracy theories seemed to have cheered them up no end. It was like the whole world had turned into a giant Wormhole Xtreme con. Those old Wormhole vids were at a premium now, fast becoming collector's items.
"McKay and I used to sit out there and drink beer," John said sadly, frowning out at the end of the pier. Small boats jostled up against the transparent shield wall, filled with sightseers as they rose and fell on the waves, only meters beyond the end of the metal decking. "Can't do that any more, even at night. They’ve got spotlights, and infra-red cameras. It'd be all over the gossip blogs the next day."
"Yeah, with speculations about how close you two were sitting, and manips of you necking. I can imagine." Cam grimaced. "Speaking of which, we'd better get back inside before they get any more ammo." He hummed Let's Give Them Something to Talk About, raising his eyebrows at John meaningfully.
John smirked, and they headed back to the transporter. "I just," John sighed when they were safe inside once more and he'd hit the symbol for the level that housed his quarters. "I get stir crazy inside all day, y'know?"
"Yeah, man, I hear you. The Mountain's worse, though, now that Colorado Springs is Paparazzi Central. At least this place is big enough, and you've got windows and natural light."
John waved his hand across the door panel outside his quarters, glancing sidelong at Cam. "Coming in? We've got an hour before Woolsey brings the next bunch of bigwigs for the grand tour."
Cam followed him inside. "Where are this lot from, Outer Mongolia?"
"Siberia." John shrugged. "Maybe they'll bring us some vodka." The door hissed shut and Cam heard the locks click home. That mind control thing John had going with the city was pretty hot. John turned to him. "You wanna?"
"Oh, yeah," said Cam, pushing him up against the wall and kissing the hell out of him. John was flushed and panting, grinning like a kid, when they finally broke apart.
"Missed you," he said, pulling Cam's ass in and rubbing up against him. "Been following your spots on the talk shows, but it's not the same."
"Yeah, me too, you big old media star, you," Cam said fondly. They didn't get time together nearly enough for his liking, but it was great having John back in the Milky Way even if Cam did have to share him with the entire population of Earth.
John's ears got pinker, and Cam laughed and pushed him toward the bed. "C'mon, clothes off now, we're on a schedule here."
"Yeah, yeah," griped John, but he stripped off with alacrity, pulling Cam down as soon as he'd dumped his own BDUs on the floor.
There wasn't time for anything fancy but they were still getting used to having this again so it didn't take much. They moved together, kissing and rubbing off on each other. Kinder on their knees that way as well, and that was getting to be a real consideration as time went by. Cam took John's hands and pressed them into the mattress, up by his head.
John's eyes got even darker and he arched up, writhing a little in Cam's grip. "You like that, huh?" Cam whispered. "You like sticking it to the brass, yeah, and the tabloids? Their two hottest flyboys gettin' down and dirty in fishbowl Atlantis with the world just outside?" John moaned and thrashed a little. Yeah, he liked that.
"Bet you'd like to do it on the pier, huh, John? Right out there with all the tourists watching us and puttin' the pictures up on their facebooks. Want me to fuck you right out there in public with the world watching me claim you?"
John was jerking his hips now, pupils blown, arching back as incoherent sounds spilled from his lips and Cam licked the sweat from his throat. "I'd like it, John, yeah," he moaned, sliding one hand down between them and gathering in both their cocks. It only took a few strokes, a few more whispered words about fucking John out on the pier for all the world to see, before John cried out and convulsed, pulling Cam over with him.
"Okay," said Cam later, once he'd recollected how to speak English. "Guess there are a few advantages to living in a fishbowl." He grinned at John. "And to being so damn repressed."
John snorted and dragged him into the shower, and eventually they were decent and buttoned up again in clean uniforms, on their way to the conference room.
McKay barreled out of a side corridor, clutching the obligatory laptop. "Colonels," he said crisply, then he stopped and narrowed his eyes at John. "Looking exceptionally post-coital there, Sheppard, with the bed head and all." He rounded on Cam. "If you're going to mess him up, it's your job to tidy him afterward. Here."
Cam looked down at the pink plastic comb McKay had thrust into his hand. "McKay," whined John, his ears flushing.
"Yes, yes, thank me later for saving both your careers. Chocolate is acceptable. I'll see you there in five." And he bustled off toward his lab, muttering "Swear to god, the self-preservation instincts of a lemming," as he vanished around a bend in the hallway.
"Er," said Cam. "C'mere." John rolled his eyes but he let Cam fix his hair, not that there was much to be done about it at the best of times.
"DADT's dead in the water. Be gone within a year or two," Cam said quietly, slipping the comb into John's top pocket as they continued on their way. "You wanna go public then?"
John got that hunted look, a little white around the eyes. Cam smiled. "No, figured not, what with the media hype and all." He punched John in the arm. "It's okay, we'll work it out."
John's shoulders relaxed a little and he blew out a breath. "Sorry."
"Hey, don't sweat it," Cam said easily. "'Sides, it's hotter if it's our little secret. Just you and me, and McKay and Keller and Teyla and Ronon and Zelenka and Sam and Vala and Teal'c and Daniel and O'Neill and Landry."
John snorted. "And Carson and Lam and Woolsey and my brother and Jeannie and Kaleb and your entire fucking family."
"Like I said," Cam agreed. "Our little secret."
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