Cameron really hated it when Daniel talked about death so damned nonchalantly. He might be used to dying, but Cameron had yet to witness one of Daniel’s famous deaths, and he hoped he never did.
“Have I mentioned that I hate snow?”
Whininess he could handle. “Not in the last five minutes.”
“Well, I do. It’s cold. And wet.” Daniel wore at least two sweaters, three pairs of socks, heavy waterproof boots, an Air Force cold weather parka, and a hat. There was no way he could be cold.
“For a guy who laughs in the face of death on a regular basis, you’re kind of a weenie. Besides, I hear freezing is one of the more pleasant ways to go.”
Daniel’s look added to the chill in the air. “Much more pleasant than yours will be when Jack finds out you wrecked his new snowmobile.”
“Not a problem. I’m blaming it on you,” Cameron said cheerfully. It really was a beautiful day. The snow had laid a pristine blanket on the forest floor. Well, pristine except for the snowmobile tracks they were following back to the General’s cabin.
“How exactly is it my fault?”
“You were feeling me up while I was trying to drive.”
Daniel reached out and pulled Cameron to a stop, his whole manner screaming disbelief. “You’re really going to tell Jack, I mean, General O’Neill—and I emphasize ‘General’—that I was giving your dick a squeeze and caused you to plow into a snowbank?”
Well, when he put it that way, it really did sound like an incredibly stupid thing to do. General O’Neill was going to kill him.
“I thought not.”
That smug look. Cameron was going to wipe it off that handsome face. He grabbed Daniel, pushed him against the nearest tree and kissed him for a long, long time. When they came up for air, he gasped, “Want to give my dick another squeeze?”
Daniel laughed. How could he laugh after that kiss? “In this cold? It would fall off.”
“Aw, come on, Daniel, give the condemned man his last wish.”
Cam/Daniel, snowmobile, R
Cameron really hated it when Daniel talked about death so damned nonchalantly. He might be used to dying, but Cameron had yet to witness one of Daniel’s famous deaths, and he hoped he never did.
“Have I mentioned that I hate snow?”
Whininess he could handle. “Not in the last five minutes.”
“Well, I do. It’s cold. And wet.” Daniel wore at least two sweaters, three pairs of socks, heavy waterproof boots, an Air Force cold weather parka, and a hat. There was no way he could be cold.
“For a guy who laughs in the face of death on a regular basis, you’re kind of a weenie. Besides, I hear freezing is one of the more pleasant ways to go.”
Daniel’s look added to the chill in the air. “Much more pleasant than yours will be when Jack finds out you wrecked his new snowmobile.”
“Not a problem. I’m blaming it on you,” Cameron said cheerfully. It really was a beautiful day. The snow had laid a pristine blanket on the forest floor. Well, pristine except for the snowmobile tracks they were following back to the General’s cabin.
“How exactly is it my fault?”
“You were feeling me up while I was trying to drive.”
Daniel reached out and pulled Cameron to a stop, his whole manner screaming disbelief. “You’re really going to tell Jack, I mean, General O’Neill—and I emphasize ‘General’—that I was giving your dick a squeeze and caused you to plow into a snowbank?”
Well, when he put it that way, it really did sound like an incredibly stupid thing to do. General O’Neill was going to kill him.
“I thought not.”
That smug look. Cameron was going to wipe it off that handsome face. He grabbed Daniel, pushed him against the nearest tree and kissed him for a long, long time. When they came up for air, he gasped, “Want to give my dick another squeeze?”
Daniel laughed. How could he laugh after that kiss? “In this cold? It would fall off.”
“Aw, come on, Daniel, give the condemned man his last wish.”
So Daniel did.