Kaz (kazbaby) wrote,


You are all EVOL!

You also win. *glares at everyone in that post*

Expect spoilers for the first two seasons of Farscape and season ten of SG-1 in this. I'm also adding to this as I go along, so expect roughness with a light polish from the crack!fic gods [info - personal] ivorygates.

cam/teal'c, bad language

Pizza and Farscape Should Come with Warning Labels

"Why? Why do I have to sit through," Cam counted the number of DVDs sitting on his coffee table, "six hours of this show?"

"Because, Colonel Mitchell, it is my turn for this week's entertainment and this is my choice. I do not feel you can accurately call it a 'marathon' unless there are more than five hours of a program."

"But why Farscape? I mean, don't get me wrong but don't we get enough of this sci-fi stuff at work?"

"I chose this because I thought you would enjoy watching the protagonist's struggles as he adapts to his surroundings. And considering that what we do cannot be accurately described as fiction, the answer to your question is 'no, we do not.'"

"The main guy gets his ass whooped a lot, doesn't he?"

"Indeed, he does."

"The things I do for my boyfriend... Bring it on then."

Teal'c smiles faintly at him and puts the first DVD.

"So what happens here?" Cam asks.

"We are starting at the end of the first season. That is when I believe that the series truly begins gaining a dramatic story structure and plot. In this episode, the protagonist must impersonate an officer of the military force that is hunting him and his companions."

"That's a dig about the Kefflan deal, isn't it."

"No, I find Crichton's transformation as the final vestiges of his innocence leaves him and he becomes a soldier very interesting."

They watch as the camera pans up slowly on John Crichton, his face cold as he walks into the hanger to meet their guests.

"Oh, I get it... you like the fact he's decked out in black leather," Cam announces ingenuously.

"That is merely a bonus, Colonel Mitchell."

Cam snerks and watches as everyone on the screen seems to gear themselves up for one last stand at the O.K. Corral before the little yellow roombas begin shooting. "Jackson is so full of it, I don't look anything like this guy."

Teal'c shoots Cam the particular Jaffa Death Glare that just screams: stop talking before everyone discovers just how stupid you are before turning back to the screen.


After watching Hour 1 of Liars, Guns, and Money:

"So, T, who do you think'd win in a fight. Crichton or Jackson?"

Teal'c puts down the doubled up slice of Supreme pizza and thinks a moment. "John Crichton would not win in a fight against Daniel Jackson because John Crichton is a fictional character." Teal'c pauses for a moment, savoring silent applause. Jaffa jokes. You gotta love 'em. Or else. "However, were he not: while Daniel Jackson has become a ruthless warrior over the passage of years, I find John Crichton's mental status to be sufficiently unreliable that I cannot properly -- as you might say -- handicap the horses in this race."

"I would never say that," Cam protests piously. "Hmmm... "crazy" versus "stubborn". That is a hard fight to call."

"His insanity makes John Crichton more dangerous. So were I forced to choose, I would pick John Crichton. Were he not a fictional character."

Yeah, Cam thinks. Nice to have that cleared up. "Hey," he says, as a sudden thought strikes him -- alongside "so we're calling Jackson 'sane' this week?" "I bet it's a damn good thing this guy can't Ascend. Not that he could Ascend even if he could Ascend. I mean, it'd take a forklift and a backhoe."

Teal'c gives him a look that indicates Jackson isn't the only one whose sanity is coming under fire tonight. But all he says is: "Indeed."

"I'm grabbing some more pizza before putting on the next disc."


After watching Die Me Dichotomy:

"Fuck me…"

This earns him Jaffa Eyebrow #22: The Pretense of Feigned Disbelief. "Did you not enjoy the program, Colonel Mitchell?"

"Teal'c, please fucking tell me you brought the next disc with you."

"I did not."

"Oh you are a cruel, cruel man," Cam moans.  Not the kind of moaning he'd been thinking one or the other of them would be doing by now, but ... how could a television show be that addictive?

"I will bring more discs the next time my turn…"

"…oh no you will not. I'm going to borrow them first thing in the morning."

"That is acceptable. Would you like for me to choose those that I think you'll enjoy?"

"Oh hell, you've done your job, Teal'c. I'm fucking hooked. But I want the next episode first though," Cam doesn't even realize he's pacing at the idea of not knowing what happens to Crichton. "That bastard Scorpius just fucking left him there! And what the hell is up with Chiana and that spoiled brat of D'Argo's? He's going to go flip out on their asses. Be little bitty pieces of Nebari and Luxan all over the place…"

"It is indeed extremely disturbing."

"What's the next episode called?" Cam asks.

"Season of Death." Teal'c takes his dishes into the kitchen as Cam plops down on the couch.


"I believe you mean 'frell'."

"Yeah, that too."

To console himself, he helps Teal'c finish off the last of the pizza.  Cam always orders four extra-large pies.  Usually there are leftovers. 

Not tonight.


There's the sound of servos turning just around the bend in the corridor and Cam stops and turns in a circle. He doesn't recognize where he is, but... Why does this look so familiar?

Something small, yellow, and fast (a banana driving in the Indianapolis 500! his brother's voice crows in memory) darts across the floor, startling him as it almost runs into his feet and he jumps backward. "Watch where you're going there!"

"I apologize.  I hadn't realized you were there when I sent the DRD to repair the light fixture," a disembodied voice states.  It's coming from just below Cam's shirt collar, and it, too, is elusively familiar.

"Walter?"  Oh, please, don't let General Landry have replaced Sgt. Siler with a roomba; we'll never get decent coffee again...

He recognizes the mouse-droid now.  It's a DRD.  A DRD and Walter Harriman...  Together?  Oh something is wrong in the state of Colorado.

He hopes to hell he's still in Colorado.  Hell, at this point he'd even take Kansas.

"Commander, is everything okay?" the disembodied voice of the little sergeant with telepathic powers asks. "You seem off. Is this 'Walter' a new Earth name you've decided to give me?"

"No, I'm just confused..."

"Whatever you say, Commander Crichton..."

Cam's stomach does a good imitation of  an f-15 at US Air Force Fighter Weapons School: a  barrel roll and then a five-thousand-foot drop.  He's not completely clear on the life and times of the star-crossed Commander Crichton, but he's clear on one thing: Crichton gets hit a lot.

"I am not-"

"Crichton, where the frell have you been?" Cam turns toward Jackson's voice and almost inhales his own tongue at the sight Dr. Daniel Jackson (the man who's spent most of the past decade in BDUs and thinks fashion is for the Goa'uld) striding toward him, because from somewhere Jackson has found himself a slick pair of black leather pants to go with his snug black tank-top, and his hair is slicked straight back on his head. When he stops right in front of Cam, Cam can see that Jackson's hair isn't just slicked back, it's pulled tight into a short ponytail.

"What is your problem, Crichton?" Jackson snaps, sounding even pissier than usual.  "You're just standing in the middle of the corridor with your mouth hanging open." He sounds cranky and put out and generally in a rotten mood. Finally, something normal about this situation.

"Jackson?" Cam says hopefully.

The next thing he knows, he's lying flat on his back and there's a massive headache blooming between his eyes and spreading outward in a lovely and decorative floral pattern.

"There's no reason to curse me just because I asked you a simple question!"  Jackson taps the comm badge clipped to his shirt. "Pilot, do you know why Crichton is standing around and insulting me?"

"I'm afraid I don't, Aeryn," Pilot says, sounding -- in Cam's biased opinion -- as if he really does and will share his guesses with Jackson if the mood strikes him. "Although he did call me an unusual name a moment before you arrived at his location."

Jackson - Aeryn?  Oh, no, no, no, no, no, - stares down at Cam. "What the frell is wrong with you?"

"Noth - nothing. Nothing's wrong with me except that I shouldn't be here."

"You've been saying that for cycles, now get up," Jackson snaps, sounding like every CO Cam's ever had. "We've got work to do. There's a light fixture that needs repairing."

"I need to go," Cam points behind him. He doesn't know what's behind him but there has to be a lovely neon sign somewhere that says 'This Way to the Egress!' and he needs to find it so he can get out of this whatever-the-fuck it is.

But "Aeryn" (god this is so screwed up) shoves him back into the curve of the wall, and Jackson's in Cam's face (he's? she's? Cam does not want to follow that thought home right now.) "Is he talking to you again?" Aeryn demands harshly.

"Who? What?" It is so not fair, Cameron Mitchell thinks, that the homicidally-unbalanced impossibilities he's dealing with here are also... wonko! One crisis at a time.

"Scorpius' clone. Is he the reason why you're acting so farbot?" Jackson barks, and it doesn't sound like Jackson, and it does, and why is he thinking about nailing Jackson at a time like this? (Or, you know, ever, because Cam likes Jackson a lot but his boyfriend is the jealous type.)

"I-- I don't know what you're talking about … Aeryn." That's so freaking weird to say. He also thinks he's lied with more conviction in his time.

Jackson doesn't do anything but stare. Intently. The intensity of Jackson's stare is making Cam nervous, especially with that big damn gun strapped to his (Aeryn's) thigh and now is so very not the time to start giggling like a mortified teenybopper at the thought of big guns and firm thighs. Down boy! Down, dammit!.

"You're lying," Jackson finally announces, in a tone that makes it sound as if he's sentencing Reality to the firing squad without even a last cigarette and a goodbye blow job.

"I'm not…" Just suck it up, Mitchell, and tell the truth. How bad can it be? "You're wrong about the... clone thing, but I'm not John Cricht--" He doesn't even get to the end of the sentence before Jacksons-- Aeryn's-- somebody's elbow is pressing hard into his throat and he can't breathe.

He tries to think quickly through the lack of oxygen (Pop quiz! what would Commander Crichton do?) and he finally manages to gasp out: "Kidding! I was just kidding!" The pressure eases slightly. "I have a twisted sense of humor…sorry," he adds in something between a gasp and a groan.

"You're twisted all right," Jackson says and moves in close enough that Cam could probably count his teeth.

"Let me go. Please?" he says uncertainly. Even he isn't sure whether he doesn't want Jackson to let go of him or just knows that asking nicely won't work.

Jackson lowers his arm. "What if I don't want to let you go, Crichton?" he asks, and sweet puppies fucking Cam has never heard Jackson sound ... playful.

He jerks in surprise when Jackson starts tugging his shirt out of the waistband of those too damned tight but undoubtedly figure-flattering black leather pants he's not really surprised to find he's wearing.

"Wha - what are you doing?" And among our finalists for the Ten Dumbest Questions of All Time Award is: Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell!

"What does it look like, Crichton?" Jackson's -- no, Aeryn's. Aeryn's, Aeryn's, Aeryn's -- lips brush against Cam's, and he turns his head away. Ah oxygen. I've missed you good buddy.

Aeryn sighs in frustration. "You can't be still angry about earlier."

Cam shakes his head. "Can't remember what I was mad about," he answers quietly. His voice is still a little hoarse from his near-miss with a spontaneous tracheotomy-by-elbow.

Jackson's about to follow up on that when he's interrupted by shouting from someone Cam can't see. "Why are there no lights in my bed chamber?"

An instant later something green and bumpy comes flying by at head height. Green and Bumpy goes several more feet before whirling around to face Cam and Jackson where they're pressed against the wall. Green and Bumpy (and small!) is the inevitable Rygel (like the Spanish Inquisition, only with three stomachs), only Rygel is sitting on a floating briefcase. He's wearing horn-rimmed glasses and sporting a spiffy gray suit with a tasteful navy tie.

"So this is why I've been left to languish in the darkness!" Rygel storms, reminding Cam uncomfortably of quarterly budget meetings he's known and loathed. "You two bodybreeders, taking every spare opportunity to frell each other's brains -- or what passes for brains in your respective vastly-inferior species -- out!"

"Not. Not with hi-uh-er! I'm with someone else," Cam blurts out before he thinks.

Aeryn and Rygel both regard Cam as if he's grown a second head and started singing Bohemian Rhapsody.

"I'm taking you to Zhaan. You're getting worse," Jackson announces.

"Stop!" Cam shouts. He shoves Jackson back, and it actually works, although Jackson looks as if the little needle in his brain is ticking over from 'fuck' to 'fight' again. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I just-- I don't know what, really, but I just need a minute to fucking think."

"Crichton," Jackson pauses and Cam is pretty sure he's about to get intimate with Aeryn's arm again when the other man's face softens slightly and Cam knows that look. It's the one that says 'humor the idiot before he gets us killed and I have to save everyone's asses - again' look. Whatever Jackson is about to say is interrupted by the little green frog on the flying briefcase shouting that Crichton never thinks and did she -- (Aeryn - and really Cam has to struggle to not fucking laugh at the idea that Jackson is a girl here.)

"--Shut up, Rygel, before I decide to figure out a way of turning you into a lightbulb. It's the only frelling way you'll be useful around here anyway…"

And there is Jackson's pissy look, which is not much different than his other looks but hell, what can a guy do about that really?

"Now, Crichton, what is there to think about? You said yourself you're confused. I want to help you. You promised me that you'd let me if the time came…"

"I did?" Must have missed that episode.

"Yes, you did. Now all I want you do is walk with me to see Zhaan, she'll do a quick scan and find out why you're confused."

"I know damn well why. I don't belong here. I'm not from here. I'm stuck in some damn tv show from hell and I just want to go home.

"Great. Now the moron is pouting and acting as if he's the only one stuck on this ship," Rygel grumbles before flying off when Jackson glares at him. What the hell is he, anyway, and where did he get such a tiny little tailored suit?

Cam lets himself be gently pulled along, thankful that Jackson - Aeryn - what the hell ever - decides to keep any further questions to a minimum while not trying to think about the feel of Jackson's firm hand wrapped around his bicep.

After several minutes they take a left at another cross-section in the corridor and Cam is wishing that the ship was more like the Prometheus with one of those 'you are here' maps attached to the wall. Someone giggles behind them and asks, "Didn't know that Crichton needed for you to hold his hand all the time." Jackson stops and they both look behind them and holy mother… Sam is gray and with a really bad haircut.

"Crichton isn't feeling too well so we were just going to visit Zhaan, Chiana." Discretion, gotta love it.

She hops (Samantha Carter does not hop Cam tells himself) over to him and completely ignores the conception of personal space. Cam does his best to not stare at the pitch black eyes looming two inches from his face. "You ate the green berries, didn't you? I told you that you'd end up squatting over the nooly for arns if you did, Crichton."

"Thank you, Chiana, now go find D'Argo and irritate him for a few more arns while Zhaan takes care of Crichton." The look Aeryn gives Chiana (that is Sam in that getup) makes Cam shiver and he's not too sure if it's a good or bad shiver which gives him another one that Cam is damn sure is a good shiver and god help him.

"If by irritate you mean frell then I can't help you, Aeryn, since I irritated D'Argo most of the morning and he pulled a muscle. He's already seeing Zhaan, so Crichton will have to wait." Chiana gives them both a wide grin, gives Cam a quick squeeze around the waist and scampers off down the hall. "Meet you two there!"

"What the frell did she do to D'Argo to cause him to pull a muscle?" Jackson asks with surprise.

"You're asking me?" Cam is terrified of finding out what's happened to Teal'c on this damn pleasure cruise from hell.

Jackson just shakes his head and gives Cam's arm a gentle tug before stopping, giving Cam a side-glance, he asks, "You didn't eat the green berries, did you?"

"No…Aeryn, I didn't eat any green berries."


A few vaguely familiar curse words mixed with growls, along with Sam's voice telling someone to stop being a baby, reaches them before they reach the open doorway.

"I know that growl," Cam whispers before pushing passed Jackson. "T…I should have known better…" Everyone is looking at him and Cam is staring at Teal'c. Teal'c with tentacles. Cam can't breathe and he thinks he may be having a heart attack so he just sits right in the middle of the floor.

Everyone is shouting his name before Zhaan, who looks remarkably like a really fucking blue Dr. Lam, shouts for everyone to get back. She touches Cam's face and draws his attention to her. "Are you all right, John?"

Cam remembers to breathe finally and whispers, "My boyfriend has tentacles."

'Your boyfriend doesn't have tentacles, Cam, or should I say John? Jaffa don't have tentacles, they have little snakes and lots of muscles,' General O'Neill's voice whispers in Cam's ear and he whips around. "What?" There's no one standing behind him but Jackson. Jackson gives him a funny look.

"Crichton. Crichton, wake up…" A very large hand waves in front of Cam's face and he turns away from Jackson staring at him with that 'sucking on a lemon' purse to his lips. Teal'c/D’Argo gives Lam - Zhaan (hey, that rhymes, Cam thinks and tries not to giggle) a worried look and limps back over to the table he'd been sitting on, pulling Cam with him.

Hopping up on the table beside Teal'c - D'Argo - Cam just stares at the other man for what seems like forever. Did Teal'c always have that little dimple by his mouth? Naw, Cam's sure he would have noticed before. He wants to reach up and touch the man's chin and the tentacles (that can't be what they're really called, surely) but stops himself because he can see that D'Argo is squirming on the table next to Cam as if he's about two seconds from finding something else he has to do (like home vivisection); also Cam's personal invisible General O'Neill is piping up again and saying he wouldn't do that if he was John (which he's not, neither of them are, goddammit).

Someone clears their throat and Cam glances around him and winces at seeing his audience. Lam is still very bald and very blue. She’s reaching for something on a tray beside the table.

"Sorry," Cam mumbles and sits on his hands like a good little boy.

"Now that Little Mister Farbhot has quit getting all the attention--" Sam comes over (Cam keeps his eyes down, not going to look at her cleavage in that very very tight cat-suit, nope) to stand next to Teal'c. She lightly smacks Cam's arm, "can you finish fixing up D'Argo, Zhaan? I want to get him back before the oil cools completely on the slip-n-slide." She leans in to give him a kiss.

Get your gray mitts off him. Cam tries to look anywhere else because he's about to say something very unfriendly-like to someone who looks like one of his best friends and fuck she will not stop sticking her tongue down his throat.

"So you finally gave up on the trampoline?" Jackson asks.

"Chiana kept hitting her head on the ceiling of my room," Teal'c says and snickers after Sam moves her mouth over to his ear. Cam is more than a little freaked out at the idea of Teal'c snickering.

"So that's why Moya was complaining to Pilot about the dents."

Cam jumps off the table and moves away from the two before Sam can climb up on Teal'c's lap. "I gotta go…"

Jackson steps in front of Cam, blocking the open doorway. "Crichton, you are not going anywhere. We have things to take care of here and you're only going to ruin everything we've worked so hard for."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know anything in this damn place!"

"John, calm yourself," Teal'c/D'Argo says soothingly, moving gracefully despite the spandex wrap around his thigh.

"I am calm. I am the fucking definition of calm."

Rygel flies in on his Magic Briefcase Built for One, adjusting his glasses, he pulls out a sheet of paper from his suit. "We have an schedule to meet and if you continue behaving like this,the balloons will never arrive on time."

"Balloons?" Cam asks. Though he really should be surprised, the little green guy farts helium for Christ’s sake.

Teal’c nods his head slowly, as if he’s talking to a small child (Cam expects that from Jackson but from the big guy – that just hurts). "Yes, John. You know you said everyone loves balloons."

"And you wouldn't want to disappoint Pilot, he was so looking forward to making balloon animals for all of the Peacekeeper children," Jackson adds.

"Come on, John, you don't want to see Pilot cry do you? If he cries, then Aeryn cries, then next thing you know we're all crying and there's not enough Kleenex on Moya to keep D'Argo's sinuses at bay when he starts blubbering." Sam gives Cam a pouty look and shoves D'Argo who imitates her exactly, including prerequisite bottom lip sticking out.

Cam is looking at those big pouty lips on his boyfriend and still wondering what those tentacles feel like when Jackson suddenly plops something on his head. Quickly pulling it off, he gawks at the shiny party hat.

"Part of the itinerary?"

"Can't have Disclosure negotiations without shiny hats," Lam says solemnly before going over to the bed Cam and Teal'c had been sitting on and flipping a couple latches. Suddenly the bed's surface splits apart and she climbs in. "If no one else needs me, I'll go back to working on my tan," she says, before lying down as the lid closes.

"Tan, my eema. She just wants to get off a few more times before the party. Personally, I don't need any light to do that." Sam snuggles under Teal'c's arm and starts to stick her hand down his pants.

That. Is. It!

"Get your hands off my fucking boyfriend, Sam. He's mine, not yours. You can go play with Jackson."

He hears Rygel mutter 'oh dear' before something hits him upside the head and the room does a 180. When it rights itself it's not exactly the same room. Well, it's not the same room at all, really. Wherever they are, it's huge and there's something that looks like a humvee on steroids landing on the other side of a pair of very wide doors. Everyone is standing around waiting patiently for the other ship's doors to open. As soon as they do, confetti and streamers start floating down, shooting out of hundreds of the little yellow DRD bug-things. There's a lot of steam billowing out from beneath the smaller ship and it takes several moments for it to clear and for feet to begin stomping down the stairs. Several soldiers who look like something Cam wouldn't want to face on a damn good day unless he had a few hand grenades and a bazooka -- not the chewing gum kind either -- exit the hatch and clatter down the steps. The soldiers come to a stop on both sides of the stairway and stand at attention.

It takes a couple seconds before someone else emerges. He’s wearing black leather boots that go all the way up and don't stop really until they reach the top of the man's head. Cam shakes his head because he has to be seeing things. Nope, you're not seeing things, Johnny boy, the helpful invisible General says in his brain. That's me!

The black leather-clad General O'Neill glares at them all sternly as he approaches them. Cam doesn't want to think about what that get-up says about the General's sex life. Or Cam's opinion of the General's sex life. Everyone standing with Cam tenses and he's pretty damn sure that this is what is meant by 'girding your loins'. Suddenly the General smiles brightly and says, "Good morning, campers. Where's the balloons?"

Cam shouts so loudly he wakes himself up. He sits up in bed. Teal’c grabs his arm before he roll onto the floor.

"Mitchell, are you unwell?"

Mitchell, I'm Mitchell now. Oh, thank fuck. He nods and clears his throat. "Yeah, Teal'c, just a very bizarre dream." Cam looks over to where Teal'c is silhouetted in the dim light of the room and breathes a very real sigh of relief. Teal'c lets him go and Cam lays back down and does something he'd never really considered doing before. He snuggles up to the bigger man and rests his head against Teal'c's shoulder.

"Remind me never to eat so much pizza while watching Farscape, m'kay? You don't want to know what the hell it does to a guy's head."

"I have found that it does well to tell others about disturbing dreams in order to remove their hold on you."

"Yeah, normally I'd agree but this was… weird. I feel like damn Dorothy at end of the Wizard of Oz saying this but you were in it, so was Jackson, Sam, and," Cam shudders, "General O'Neill. We were on that ship, Moya, and you guys weren't you. You were the people from the show and you all kept calling me John Crichton and it seriously freaked me out, especially Jackson. But topper was the General."

"Oh? What was disturbing about them?"

"Jackson was that Aeryn chick and General O'Neill was that guy that put that thing in Crichton's head."


"Yeah, him."

"That is indeed very disturbing." Teal'c rolls slightly and gives Cam a comforting pat on the shoulder. "I would venture to say that you were not disturbed by my appearance in your dream?"

"Let's just say that you look damn good with tentacles."

"They are call Tenkas, Mitchell, and thank you."

Originally posted at http://kazbaby.dreamwidth.org/732629.html. You can comment there using OpenID.|comment count unavailable comments
Tags: crossover, farscape, fic, sg-1

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