A/N: Oi, sorry to all those in the Gilmore world...Terminator's been screaming at me. Anyways, this is a oneshot devoted to the whole John/Cam thing going on.
Disclaimer: The only thing that I can rightfully claim is my sorry GPA.
John Connor, the future leader of the human resistence knows that only after three seconds, he doesn't like being on the bottom; you have zilch for control and it's god awful hot. Granted, he assumes that when being on top, you're just a tad bit more airy and when you go for the other person's zipper there really isn't much room to aruge or cause a fuss.
Besisdes this, the whole pre-sex thing is rather uncomfortable within itself. Nevermind physically uncomfortable, but mentally as well. Hey, are we going to do it or not? At the moment, his hands are running up the back of her jean-clad thighs and she moves to his touch on top of him, her knee digging into his crotch. Oh, Lord.
Her fingers skillfully undo his belt buckle, promptly pulls it out of the loops that it was previously secured in and John simply lays there. Sure, he makes an attempt at kissing her back and lets out a slight groan at the right times, but he doesn't once try to lift her shirt over her head or anything of the sort. Hell, he's been dreaming of this day, moment, minute, ect. for the past two years at least. Now, he's letting it all slide by. The want to have sex with her just...left the building. Debatably, it never really entered the building. Eventually she just gives in and sits up, straddling him across the waist. John looks past her head, his green irises focusing on the figure suddenly standing in the now open door way, shotgun in hand.
"Hey, are we going to do it or not?"
He clears his throat. "Yeah," he says, making eye contact with the square-jawed figure, quirking a brow in a haughty fashion. He then diverts his gaze, grabs the girl he's supposed to be concentrating on by the waist and flips her over so he's on top. Pushing a fleeting and sudden thought out of his head, he leans down, kissing her mouth so hard that their teeth clash.
Right before Riley unbuttons his jeans, John hears Cameron walk away from the door, her combat boots clicking on the wooden floor and the distinct sounds of her taking the rounds out of the gun.
An hour later, they were all finished and Riley had passed out, her blonde hair fanned around on the pillow underneath her. Awkwardly, they never really took all their clothes off so she's just sleeping there in his single bed underneath the cheap cotton sheet. John lets out a deep breath as he looks over at her, pulling on a pair of boxer pants. That was certainly interesting. Point of the matter being that he's not in a big fat rush to do it all over again.
Sweat is gathering at his hariline and he wipes it off with the heel of his hand as he walks out into the kitchen. The smell of coffee hits him square in the face when he steps over the threshold. Confused, John looks up at the Terminator. "That's nice, Cam. Like you need that shit."
"Neither do you," she says, taking a sip from the big white mug that came with the rest of the house.
"I never said that I did."
John blinks. Another new word. "Whatever. Is there anything good to eat in here?"
She tilts head slightly to one side. "Did your thirty minutes of intercourse increase your need of carbohydrate intake?"
Retrieving a jar of peanut butter from the cabinet aboove, he slathers it thickly on a slice of bread with a steak knife. "Yup," he says, taking a huge bite and chewing with his mouth open as he talks. "Lots of carbs burned." He doesn't know why he's acting like such jock loser bragging to his friends about the new blonde chick that he banged last night. Actually, he does, but everytime he thinks about it a big brick wall rises up from the folds of his brian to block out the reasoning beind it. Jamming the rest of the sandwhich into his mouth, he says, "Riley's staying the night so don't be all metal bitch when you see her in the morning."
Cameron finishes off her coffee, walks over to the dishwasher and crams the cup in the wrong row, bending several of steel prongs in the process. "I am not going to protect her if a T-888 should--"
"Good," John interrupts. "That's my job."
"Yes." She reaches across the counter, laying her hand on the shotgun bullets. "Good." With a quick and easy motion, she loads the gun, the classic sha-shuk soundringing throughout the room.
Staring at the water stains on the ceiling, John tries to roll over but stops upon the realization that he may crush his girlfried. Wait. Hold up. Girlfriend? With a sideways glance, he makes an attempt at figuring out what she really is to him. Riley comes over every day, charms both his mother and Derek, stays habitually wary of Cameron and they wrap it all up with a heavy make out session in his room. However, a few hours ago he assumes that she's become a little more than just a friend because as soon as you throw sex into the mix, you can't just go back to holding hands like it's all okay. He runs his hands through his short-cropped hair, thinking the whole situation over again. Whoa, he's so not ready for this...Now, it'd be ludicrous to not tell her everything. Then again, it'd be ludicrous to tell her everything.
He jerks up in the bed, close to going into cardiac arrest. "What?" he hisses between clenched teeth at Derek Reese, the man looking in from around the edge of his door. "It's three in morning, man."
"I know...but..." He grins. "Congratulations."
Rolling his eyes, John slumps back onto the pillow, Riley sighing in her sleep and rolling over. Accidentally, right before she fell asleep, he'd called her 'Cam.' Luckily she was far too gone to notice. "Yeah," he says. "Thanks."
Derek walks back down the hall with his glass of water, whistling to himself.
Now he's wide awake. Great. He sits up in the bed, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. Laying on the nightstand next to the boxspring is the lego robot that Riley had made for him a few weeks ago. He picks it up, fingering the little plastic blocks. When he turns it around to look at it more thoroughly, it slips from his grasp. The sound of shattering legoes on the floor, astonishingly, doesn't bring Cameron to his calling but instead simply wakes the maker up.
Her eyes flutter open. "Hey..." she says, her voice groggy. "What was that?" She pulls the sheet around her as she sits up, brushing her hair out of her eyes.
"Just some legoes," he says, not clearifying what that legoes actually made. "Go back to sleep, you must be tired."
She laughs, her eyes smiling. "You could say that." Clapping him on the back like an old buddy, she says, "You were pretty good...for a virgin." Riley winks.
"Huh," John says, more to himself than to her. He figures that they probably should have discussed this sort of thing before going ahead and doing it.
He turns towards her. "Yeah?"
"We've never actually...you know, been out." She tilts her head to the side, giving him a searching look.
"Whaddya mean, 'been out'?"
"Like on a date."
Swallowing, he says, "Oh. Yeah. About that."
"I know your mom's all anal and what-not."
John stifles the urge to laugh seeing as Sarah would prefer him going to the movies with Riley tenfold over having sex with her. Well, under extreme supervison, that is. "I think I may actually be able to pull something. Movies, maybe."
Her face lights up. "Really?"
"But, um..." His expression contorts as he tries to finagle a way to word his next statement. How in the hell can Cameron come along without it being...weird? Substantially awakward? Just a tad fucked up? His mind starts to wrap around how that'd be between the two of them. "Cam...she's sort of..."
"Unsecure without your existence?" she completes for him.
She just shrugs as if it's the most simplest thing in the world. "Hook her up with someone and she can totally come." Leaning in to kiss him, she adds quickly, "If that's okay with you."
"Yeah, yeah. Definately." John winces when he says this, feeling her lips on his.
What kind of shit did he just get himself into?
The next afternoon, one of the sparse few that Riley had not been in attendence, John Connor tries to persuade his Terminator to see something as frivolous as a movie in a packed theater with dozens of other people just so he can go on a 'date.' For the past ten minutes, he's made a tremendous effort on the importance of this agenda. "It's a normal thing for people my age to do," he says, trying a new peg. "I'd fit in."
"How many escape routes are there?" she asks blankly, applying mascara to her lashes in the foyer mirror.
"I dunno...I've...I've...never been in one before." Oh, Dear Mary up in Heaven, that just sounded downright pitiful. He's never been to see a movie. Ever. The only thing he knows about movies is from seeing them in...movies. Never before has John sat in one of those cooshy seats with a gallon bucket full of greasy pop-corn and a Coca-cola the size of Derek's combat boot.
Cameron gives him an extremely sideways glance. "Then how do you know it's safe?"
"I don't," he says hurridly. She turns back to the mirror, Maybelline tube in hand. Where did she get that? Christ knows that Sarah didn't go out and buy it for her. The safest assumption is that she got it from someone at school, but he knows that force was most likely involved. Lately, she's become much infatuated with her physical appearence for she's constantly primping, out buying clothes and shoes with a reluctant John, putting on fresh lip gloss at least ten times a day...it's become an illusion. Her mission to become a teenage girl has definately been executed. Cameron simply is. "Can you stop that for a second?"
"I can." She sets down the mascara on the tiny table underneath the mirror.
"You're welcome." Now she's staring at him as if she's waiting for him to break out into song and dance.
"We're going. That's that. The only way Mom will let me go is if you come...and the only way Riley will let you go is if you find a guy to drag along."
"I won't drag along a guy. That's not appropriate for--"
"A date," he says. "Make it." Without a second thought, he hands her the phone and a slip of paper with Morris's number on it and heads off to his room.
Her face stares down at the number for a few moments before she looks back up at his retreating shape. "John..."
"What?" he asks brusquely, turning. The look on her face is hard to place. It almost looks as if she's lost and doesn't quite know what to do. "Look, just call him up and ask if he'd like to see a flick with you, myself and Riley..."
"Yes a flick, film, movie, cinematic adventure, feature presentation. Whatever."
"A flick," she says matter-of-factly. "Thank-you for explaining." John finally walks away, but turns to look back to see her jam in Morris's number, her jaw set. Her voice sounds like silken honey when he answers, but her face is stonier than the flank side of a boulder.
All four of them walked to the theater from Morris's house seeing as he lived not a minute from downtown. Despite that fact that they now lived in different districts and no longer went to the same school, Morris was way more than happy to go along. John figured that he wasn't in a rush to forget all about Cam.
"So, how's this new school of yours?" Morris asks Cameron as they wait outside the theater in line.
"My peeps are pretty tight," she says, making Riley spit out her gum from her sudden burst of laughter.
"She's made new friends," John completes for her, smiling weakly.
"T-that's good. I guess."
Both Morris and Cameron continue their shifty conversation as the line slowly creeps forward and Riley pulls John aside. Around the corner of the building, she swiftly kisses him on the mouth, making him loose his balance. "Thanks," she whispers, leaning into his jacket.
John rubs her shoulders as he eyes the Terminator with one of his friends over her head. "No big deal."
"If it sucks, we never have to do this again if you don't want."
"I dunno." He plasters on a fake smile as he grabs her hand, leading her back to the line. "It might not end up being that bad."
Overall, it really wasn't that terrible. That is, however, until that last five seconds. Those last five goddamn seconds threw everything in disarray.
When all was said and done and Morris's house was not five feet away, John and Riley stay on the street curb as he and the Terminator walk to the front door. John's face contorts and he lowers his voice to a near whisper so that only Riley can hear. "I don't have a good feeling about this..."
"Relax. Just let her be normal." She grins. "For once."
This thought occurs to John but it still makes all of his insides twist in a multitude of different directions. "I still don't like it." With arms crossed, he looks at Morris and Cameron on the front step. For a fleeting second, John and Cam make eye contact and he swears to all the gods he can fucking think of that she's giving him that same look that he gave her when he was with Riley.
He watches them lean in, her finger hooked through Morris's beltloop and his arm rested around her waist. He watches thier lips connect, their movements unsure. Granted, neither of them have kissed anyone before in their lives, so it's not all mapped out. It takes a few seconds before Cameron's hand wanders up the back of his neck, tangling itself in his hair.
Riley lets out a low whistle. "Damn," she says, smirking, elbowing John in the ribs. "Your sister's got the moves on him, eh?"
It's taking way too long for his taste and it doesn't seem as if they're going to break apart anytime soon. Morris's hands move from her hips to the inside of Cam's back pockets and--
No. No, no.
No way, Jose.
No way in fucking hell.
Fireworks go off behind John's eyes as he marches down the driveway to the front steps. "Hey!" he yells, his eyes ablaze. "Good-bye, Morris," he says pointedly between clenched teeth, grabbing Cameron by the wrist.
"Whoa, man, we just--"
His throat is burning and his mind is roaring. He just couldn't take it anymore. Something inside of John Connor snapped and it won't -- by any means -- be easily fixed.
"What," John says in a harsh whisper so he wouldn't wake both Derek and Sarah as he wrenches his t-shirt over his head, "were you thinking?!"
"I wasn't thinking. I was doing," Cameron states flatly.
"Yeah, well, no more."
"No more what?"
"Guys. You're done with them. You're not to...not to..." He wanders off at this, jerking his finger towards her in a fatherly way despite his feelings are most definately the farthest thing from fatherly. "Just no more."
She blinks and takes a few steps back before lifting herself up and sitting on his desk. "Why?"
"Because," he shoots back. "I said so." John lets this comment sink in as he rifles through his dirty clothes hamper for another shirt, looking to get the stink of night off of his skin.
"You can have sexual intercourse with Riley but I can't kiss Morris."
"I don't understand."
"Why? Why is that so bad?"
John squares his shoulders, walking right up to her as she obnoxiously sits on his desk. "Because," is his response. Again. He sees a flash of recognition run through her eyes but her silence suggests the opposite. John studies her for a moment; the way her legs are politely crossed, the way she sits perfectly erect, the way the cheap 60-watt lighting gives her brown locks a certain glow, the way her shirt sits on her frame, the way-- "I don't like it because you're mine."
There we go. It's out, said and done.
I don't like it because you're mine.
He steps forward, places his hands on her knees, uncrosses her legs and pulls them apart. She doesn't resist as his hands rest on this inside of her thighs. John can feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her jeans and it makes his palms itch and his blood hot. "Do you got that?" he whispers roughly, his green eyes boring into her chocolate ones. "Do you understand?"
"Riley is yours..." she states slowly, her brow wrinkling.
"No. No, she's not."
"I think she would not agree."
"Yes, John?" Her breath is soft against his cheek.
"Do you want Riley to be mine?"
"I do not want. It is not a part of my--"
He repeats himself more firmly. "Do you want Riley to be mine?"
That's all he needed to let him know that it was all okay. That she knew that a constant petty battle back and forth between other people would not get her what she'd traveled back through time and space for. When he kisses her, she responds rightfully. John feels her lips part under the pressure of his own, her tongue up agaist the roof of his mouth and the clench of her legs around his waist.
He reaches around her and slides her towards him until she collides with his stomach. They go from the desk to the wall to the bed and take their time. Clothes are tossed to the floor, garments abandoned and names are exchanged in short breaths, something that sounds both foriegn, yet familiar at the same time.
For now, both John and Cameron will relish in thier new found romance.
That is until the next morning when John can't even stand to look at her, nevermind his mother.
That is until the next week and the Turk has yet to be found.
That is until the next month and Cameron holds John Connor at gun-point, threatening his life.
That is until the next year when Skynet takes over the world.
A/N: And that, ladies and gents, is the conclusion to my first John/Cam piece. Yay or nay?