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PART THREE
Jack started to whine when the pillow was plucked brutally away from his face
and replaced with the laptop. Then his eyes focused. Then they bugged.
"Is this a joke?"
"'Fraid not."
"Are they?"
"Yes."
"Are those?"
"Yes."
"Dear god." In front of Edwards and everyone.
"An erect phallus is a classic mythological fertility symbol," Daniel informed
him brightly.
"Two guys?" Jack objected. Surely, fertility was the one thing two guys didn't
have to worry about! "You did this on purpose!" he accused Daniel.
"Me? How is this my fault? I didn't build the thing!"
"That's not the point!"
"Well, what is the point?"
"You're the one who dragged us here in the first place!"
"Oh, god, Jack, let's not get into another one of those interminable circular
arguments, please!" Daniel begged.
"You find it funny!"
"I find you funny. It's hard to believe you're trained to kill or die on
command, to survive torture, brainwashing, severe injury and hardship and a
little thing like sex absolutely slays you."
Jack looked at the image on the monitor. "A little thing?" he queried,
incredulously.
"Don't be silly," Daniel instructed him, oddly coaxing.
"Please tell me this will all be worth it?" Jack pleaded, shuddering away from a
mental image of himself having to poke around up there.
"It will all be worth it," Daniel parroted obediently, twinkling mischievously
at Jack.
"Do you have any idea what's behind those doors?"
"Not a clue." Daniel leaned over to look at the laptop for a moment.
"Daaaniel?" Jack was deeply suspicious of this sudden abstraction.
"I'm not entirely convinced we'll find anything behind the doors," Daniel
confessed, deciding this was a good time to sit on the bed next to Jack and make
with some more stroking of Jack's face. "In fact." He trailed off, smiling in
abstraction, decidedly more interested in exploring Jack than in archaeology,
which was something of a first.
"In fact?" Jack prompted sternly, his heart sinking towards his socks.
"I'm no longer convinced those are doors."
Jack made a noise in the back of his throat.
"They're door-shaped," Daniel generously stretched the point. "By our standards,
at least. They're also, um."
Jack had to fight the urge to smack Daniel smartly with the laptop. He had
similar urges all the time. They didn't mean anything. They were just necessary
to his sanity. Venting. That was the term. Or was it sublimation? Vital, either
way, when dealing with Daniel.
"Book-shaped." Daniel brought his open hands together and mimed opening them.
"The leaves of a stylised book, engraved with text that might explain the
meaning of the fertility theme in the fresco."
Very carefully, Jack turned the laptop so they could both inspect the image. The
yellow outline was distressingly rampant.
"Two male fertility symbols suggest a strongly patriarchal society." Daniel was
like a terrier with a rat when he got going. The only way to get him to drop it
was to distract him with something juicier.
"A dirty book," Jack broke in, his voice failing. "All this for a dirty book."
All this and more to come. Much, much more. In front of everyone.
A gentle hand ghosted over Jack's stomach.
"How's your shoulder?" Daniel asked distractedly.
"The clawed one?" Jack clarified politely. "Still located above my belt-buckle."
He peeled away Daniel's investigating fingers and ignored the pout directed at
him.
"You feel nice."
"Immaterial."
"I bet you'd feel even nicer if we got rid of all this." Daniel tugged pettishly
at Jack's T-shirt.
"What did I do?" Jack asked the world. "What was so bad I deserved to have life,
the universe, landscape topography and you," this, bitterly, to Daniel,
"conspiring against me?"
"Me?" Daniel seemed pleased by the heady accolade of coming out top of Jack's
lengthy list of woes.
"You," Jack said emphatically. "I've got cliff porn out there and you prowling
in here. I'm surrounded by guys with their dicks out." The, er, the naughty mood
Daniel was in, Jack immediately thought better of throwing down this particular
gauntlet. "Metaphorically in your case," he added hurriedly.
"Killjoy."
At this point, Daniel took outrageous advantage of their proximity, stretching
out bouncily on top of Jack while he juggled the laptop and the creaking cot.
When he was comfy on Jack, Daniel coolly disposed of the laptop. It was in his
way.
"This is nice," he said.
"This is not nice," Jack countered. "This is harassment."
"That's what I said. Nice." Daniel lowered his head, breathing in Jack's skin.
"Harassment is not nice. You wouldn't try this on Fraiser or Carter."
"Sam doesn't want me to try it on her," Daniel replied reasonably, planting a
small, grazing kiss on Jack's jaw, and then another. "Nor does Janet."
"Haven't I explained why this can't happen?" Jack sighed.
"Not to my satisfaction, no."
"I'm not so evolved as you." Jack punctuated this by putting his arms around
Daniel and trying to hold him still. Daniel approved. "I'm not the man you think
I am or the man you want me to be."
"I don't want you to be anything but honest. With both of us."
"Regulations..."
"Please!" Daniel interrupted, for the first time showing annoyance.
Jack had to see the justice in that. No one knew better than he did how many
rules he'd broken in his long, sometimes ignominious career, how easily, or how
comfortably he lived with the consequences. It was a necessary balance, a
defence against the vicious, ugly acts he'd willingly embraced and expertly
executed.
The only reason Jack had survived and avoided jail time for his insubordination
was because he was so talented, so good at what he did, he was always worth more
than the trouble he caused. Even General Hammond understood that Jack needed to
buck the system, to stick it to the man, as much as he might rail against any
individual defiance. The latitude Jack allowed himself was enormous, Hammond's
collusion a key factor he pushed at all the time.
"Sorry," he muttered, meaning a lot more than he was saying. Daniel didn't need
to hear it. He knew – most of it, Jack guessed.
"This is only about you, Jack. Or maybe I should say it's about you and me, how
you see me. Maybe you can't be with me until you can accept me."
"I do accept you!" Jack retorted, startled and uncomfortable at the accusation.
"No," Daniel said in a measured, thoughtful tone. "You try to control me."
"Protect!" Jack snapped, stung.
"It's just another measure of control." Daniel lifted himself, reaching up to
clasp both Jack's shoulders. He was smiling a little, fondly and in some
indulgent exasperation. "You think I don't know you? I know. It's all about
control for you. It's all about compartments, a place you create for everything
and everyone, lines you draw and won't have crossed, while all the time you're
pushing boundaries and crossing lines yourself. You love me – part of the reason
you love me is none of that works for me. I won't stay where you put me, where
you want to keep me safe and you safe from me. I cross your lines as fast as you
draw them, I push you as hard as you push. It's more, even, than that. I see
you. I hear you. You can't shut me out."
"You know a lot." Jack had always known Daniel saw far more than he was supposed
to, but to have it all laid out for him, to be analysed so clinically wasn't
something he was ready to lie here and just take.
"We're the same. Opposites, equals, infuriatingly, challengingly different and
the same."
"That makes no sense!"
"None," Daniel admitted cheerfully. "I don't know why, Jack, I only know it
works. That I need it." He had the nerve to look shy. "You need it too," he said
with some hesitance, stroking Jack's shoulders with fretful thumbs.
You need me, is what he wanted to say, what he wanted to hear from Jack.
Daniel had grown. He had changed. He was stronger than before, more certain,
more – whole. Jack had changed too, he had moved on, even congratulated himself
on his newfound ease. He was gutless, though. Keeping control, keeping his
centre and maintaining that neat, safe distance, not risking anything, not
giving anything he didn't want to. He wasn't putting himself out there, taking
the leap of faith Daniel was.
"It's not you," he confessed impulsively, wanting to give Daniel something.
"I know," Daniel soothed him. "It's okay, I know." He kissed Jack delicately on
the mouth, caressingly rubbed stubble-roughened cheeks. "I'm not asking for the
world, I'm not even asking for an instant, no-obligation decision or a
money-back guarantee. Just a chance, Jack. That's all I want. For you to give us
a chance."
"Not taking no for an answer?"
"I told you already. You're necessary to me."
"I'm afraid I'll let you down." Daniel was worth the truth. He was necessary to
Jack too.
"Only happen if you don't think I'm worth the risk."
"No money-back guarantees, huh?"
"Only if the sex sucks."
"Please," Jack closed his eyes in pain. "I beg of you. No puns. Not when I have
cliff porn to rappel." Edwards and SG-11 would probably break out the beer and
lawn chairs.
"What'll you give?" Daniel scented an opportunity.
"What'll it take?"
Daniel jiggled his hips suggestively.
Jack grabbed him in self-defence, frantically trying to prevent a physical
re-enactment of the cliff porn. All he managed to do was make Daniel aware he
was sporting a serious target of opportunity. Smug-eyed and unnecessarily
gleeful, Daniel rubbed persuasive hips against him, making him – and the cot –
groan and quiver. Jack clutched defensively at the parts he could reach.
Naturally, he wound up with two wonderfully disturbing handfuls of ass. His
physical reaction was immediate and emphatic.
Blushing, Daniel thanked him.
"I'm totally out of control," Jack groaned. "My career is flashing before my
eyes."
"Not my naked body?" Daniel demanded resentfully, launching into more of those
nice, nibbling kisses.
"This is insane."
"Tell me you're not loving every minute." Daniel kissed him some more.
"I love you," Jack sighed. "God help us all."
"I guess I upset all your plans by loving you back."
"You did," Jack agreed vehemently. "You damn well did. And you know it! I was
doing fine until you came along and decided to shake your bootie."
"You're still holding onto that, by the way," Daniel noted, giving a delicious
little wriggle. "Feels niiice."
"The control thing?" Jack had to swallow hard. His throat had dried. Daniel's
long, clever fingers slid up, up into his hair, stroking and soothing. The
control thing. Yeah. "I loved my wife."
Daniel only nodded, thankfully accepting this as a given.
"I don't want to do to you what I did to her."
"Jack?" Daniel jerked back, startled.
"Compartments," Jack reminded him jerkily. "Lines." God, this was not easy. He
had to commit, though, because it had been about this easy for Daniel to open to
him. "Sara didn't leave me because of Charlie. We could..." Sweating buckets, he
had to swallow again. His tongue felt twice its normal size, choking him. "We
could have survived losing him. If I had wanted her enough, loved her enough.
She was angry, she did blame me and I – I used that. Against her. I shut her
out. Turned my back. She'd learned to live with me not talking, with the lines
I'd drawn, but she couldn't live with that. That was – it was proof I put myself
first, my needs, my feelings, not hers."
"I don't want to say anything to put Sara down," Daniel told him gently,
respectfully. "I don't know her well, I never saw how you two were with each
other. I only know your side. I guess what I'm trying to say here is I don't
think you love me more. If that's what you're worried about. Sara and I, we're
just different."
"Different," Jack echoed, remembering this from their earlier talk. "I love you
differently." It wasn't Sara's fault, it wasn't even Jack's fault that his
definition of a partner went deeper, needed more than Sara could ever give. What
he'd needed was to be challenged, to have his partner fight back instead of
giving in. It wasn't about power and control so much as it was about balance.
Jack recognised himself as an alpha, he knew the games he played. The people he
could dominate, manipulate, he lost respect for. He would always limit what they
had of him, giving less, always giving less than they wanted. Sara had always
caved when Jack pushed her and so did Sam Carter. Even General Hammond, for all
the protection of his rank, let Jack play him. Teal'c could beat out Jack when
he chose to but Jack always resisted. He figured maybe the difference with
Daniel was as simple as he wanted to give something of himself. Giving in to
Daniel didn't feel like he was losing.
"I won't be shut out, Jack. I won't shut you out. We did that already, don’t you
see?" Daniel urged him passionately. "It destroyed us. Playing by the rules we
set ourselves as much as those the others expected of us, we already did all of
that. It isn't us. It's over now. We're past that, we've both of us moved on."
Yes. Jack knew it was true. He had made his own realisations and
self-congratulations. What Daniel needed from him was a willingness to move
forward a step or two, to take on a little more than he had. That was all that
was being asked of him.
Sins of omission, eh? Wanting to and not. Jack was doing okay with that. He was
rubbing along just fine. Daniel wasn't. Whatever he said, whatever spin he came
out with to make Jack feel good, Daniel was hurting. He wanted more. He wanted
the sins of commission. He wanted Jack to open up, step up, give something of
himself. Take the risk. Commit.
Could Jack really do just fine when Daniel was in need? Could he be happy
knowing he was leaving Daniel wanting? When he looked at it in these simplest
terms, the answer was absurdly simple. It was no. They were about give and take,
that was the foundation of their friendship, that was who they were.
"You know what you're letting yourself in for?" Jack capitulated resignedly.
Daniel's stunned, shining joy left him blinking and growling. So he was giving
in? So what! Didn't he always? The only question was when he gave, and how hard
he was going to fall.
Why was he giving? He thought he knew the answer to that. It was about the
opposite of control. It was trust. He couldn't put a limit on how much he
trusted Daniel, just as he knew Daniel put no limit on how much he trusted Jack.
They had crossed lines before, busted out of stereotypes, stepped out blindly on
each other's say-so.
Jack was a pusher, a risk-taker. Nothing and no one pushed him the way Daniel
did, challenged, infuriated, thrilled and satisfied him. Daniel made sense when
nothing else did. Jack did control what he loved and valued, he put limits on
what he would give of himself, to keep himself safe, keep those he loved safe.
He would always try, he would always clash with Daniel, he would always give,
even just a little. He wasn't alone, though, because Daniel would also give.
That was their secret, what made opposites bond. They were better together to
the point they couldn't be apart. Wasn't this what he'd learned when he'd lost
Daniel and ultimately himself?
Daniel was necessary to him too.
"I'll try, okay?" he promised urgently, because it was important to him Daniel
understand it was all he could promise. He smiled, his trademark cockiness going
a little awry. "I'll always try," he added meaningfully, holding Daniel's eyes.
"You can lead a colonel to bed but you can't make him strip." This was,
presumably, Daniel's version of supportive acknowledgement. They were really
going to have to talk about this whole assertive thing. Sex-starved and
assertive was a damn scary mix.
Daniel took Jack's face firmly between his hands and gave him a slight shake.
"Whatever you're thinking, stop. This is a momentous occasion. We just agreed to
get together. We're in a relationship. A sexual relationship. We just turned our
lives upside down. Inside out. This is a huge deal." He gave Jack another slight
shake, in case he didn't get how huge a deal this was. "We're happy and we get
to have sex now."
"Not now! Not here!" Jack yelped, his last puny shred of self-preservation
insisting the groaning cot was barely holding up, even if his libido and his
volubly horny archaeologist were prepared to take the risk. "Shut up!" Jack
broke in ruthlessly on Daniel's fluently expressed complaints and allegations.
"I'm trying to save our asses here!"
"Trying to save yours," Daniel scowled malevolently, curling his lip at
this abject display of sexual cowardice. He didn't want to shut up. Jack was
trying to slip right through his greedy fingers yet again and he wanted to let
Jack have it. A piece of his mind, with both barrels.
It occurred to Jack to let Daniel have it first, teeth, tongue and tonsil. Now
this he could see was a huge deal. The impact of this was life-changing. After
seven years, at last he got to shut Daniel up, and with his complete
co-operation, no less.
"I think I like the new, improved, assertive you," Jack whispered in Daniel's
ear.
"Good. I do too." Daniel nudged Jack. "So? Does that mean we get to?" He jiggled
lasciviously.
"No! No sex. Not here. These cots were expressly designed by the Air
Force to prevent amorously adventurous airmen from getting to have sex on them!"
"The floor, then."
"No. N-O spells no! No! Jeez! In my wildest dreams I never imagined you were
such a dog."
"Me either," Daniel said sheepishly. "It's new."
"Well, it's new to me too." In the Jack-Daniel sense, that was.
"You need to work up to it?"
"Don't take it personally. It's not you," Jack explained, thoughtfully massaging
Daniel's nice, broad shoulders. "You're fine. You're, er, you're great, in fact.
Just great."
"You're scared to have sex with me?"
"You are too," Jack riposted. "What do you think all this horndog obsessing is
about? Getting it over with!"
"I wouldn't put it like that," Daniel said coldly.
"I would. I do. But that's not a problem either. It's not you, it's not me, it's
just timing, is all. Not here. Not now."
Toying with the neck of Jack's T-shirt, Daniel allowed himself to be persuaded.
"Is this about you being the guy in charge of this mission? Responsible and
therefore not distractable?"
"Exactly," Jack agreed gratefully. "Just because the Odokai look as if they'd
blow over in a stiff breeze doesn't mean they aren't loaded for bear and out for
blood. That Ingrid Bergman act of theirs could all be a front. They could be
saying they want to be alone when what they really want is space and time to
plan an attack."
Daniel considered this. "I think they just want to be alone, Jack. In fact, I
think the reason this place doesn't figure in their history and oral traditions
is because it's embarrassing to them."
"Two guys with their humongous glow-in-the-dark schlongs out for everyone and
their Aunt Minnie to see from miles around? If that's the epitome of your
culture, what's not to be embarrassed about?"
"So, you don't think they're planning an attack either?"
"Nope," Jack admitted cheerfully. "But they could be. And it's my job to be
ready for that. To prevent that, in point of fact. I can't be ready if my tongue
is hanging out and the only thing I can think about is the next way to get you
into this tent with me."
"I'm not happy," Daniel said warningly, gimlet eyes making this clear. "But I
will give you this one."
"I'm overwhelmed," Jack thanked him meekly for this concession.
"You're very glib and plausible about this Air Force stuff," Daniel criticised.
"I don't like it."
"You're even more glib and plausible about the archaeology stuff and I haven't
liked it for years."
Daniel's lips twitched. "I told you," he said ruefully. "We're the same. Exactly
the same."
"We want what we want and we want it now," Jack said whimsically.
"And we want it with each other."
Jack smiled and rubbed at Daniel's cheek. "We've covered a lot of ground,
Dannyboy."
"Take your time," Daniel urged him, serious now, shyly smiling back at him.
"About it all. There's time for it all."
"I've got things I need to sort through in my head. I need to be clear before I
can sleep with you," Jack disclosed uncomfortably. Clear wasn't the same as
sure, but it was the best he could offer. "All the reasons I think should keep
us apart, those haven't just evaporated into thin air."
"There's time," Daniel said again.
"This is crazy." Jack tightened his hold on Daniel. "I need my head examined.
Who flicked the switch from straight to gay, from girls to guys?"
"You did."
"Not helpful."
"Then try this. You found what you were looking for, what you need in a partner.
You're having to work harder in some ways, not so hard in others, because what
you need, you found in me." Daniel gently touched Jack's face, his hair.
"Recognising that was hard, accepting was harder still. Now, you have to act on
it. You have to effect change in you and deal with it in me."
"I'm still getting used to the package."
"Strangely, me too. And that's before I get to your package."
"You don't seem to be having any difficulty getting to my package I can see,"
Jack said tartly, peeling away a questing hand.
"You are no fun."
"None. Anal-retentive control freak, here," Jack joked.
"I didn't mean to hurt you with that," Daniel said seriously.
Could Jack admit he was hurt? He thought not. He was still too glib and
plausible for that. "I've got some issues," he tossed out, trying for lightness.
"I have faith you'll deal with them honestly."
"Is it that simple?" Jack asked him, shaken by this simple affirmation.
"Simple? No." Daniel smiled. "None of what I'm feeling, none of what I want, is
simple. I trust it, though. I'm trusting myself."
"You want me to trust myself?"
"Trust us." Daniel was watching Jack's face. "I can't find an easy way to say
this so I'll say it right out. You have to. I won't be without you anymore."
"Necessary, huh?" Jack said gruffly, moved and horribly afraid he was showing
it. "I look back?"
"Yes?" Daniel asked eagerly, hoping.
"I don't see anyone I was necessary for," Jack confided slowly. "Not a single
person who couldn't get along without me and plenty who would have maybe been
better off." If he had been the one to leave Sara, if he'd had the guts to cut
her out of the whole of his life and not just the parts that ruined him. Too
many ifs. His life was what he'd made it, and that was little enough. "You need
me? You of all people? I never imagined you needing anyone." He'd wanted it,
though. Wanted as much feeling from Daniel as he had for him. Had starved for
it. "Everything you ever needed was in here." He tapped the side of Daniel's
head.
"No. No way. That wasn't life. That was a wall."
Jack, who lived with walls of his own, got it. "Sometimes I'm a little slow, a
little thick. You have to pound it into me."
"I've been trying," Daniel huffed.
"You and me." Jack drew Daniel down to him. "We are the same."
It shouldn't work, but it did.
They shouldn't love, they shouldn't fit, they shouldn't need.
But they did.
They were necessary.
FINIS
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