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Daniel looked at Welling City,
'Second City On The Mighty Mississippi!'. Welling Tourist Information
proudly proclaimed this fascinating fact right there on the pontoon they
were moored beside. "I think city is pushing it," he muttered.
He felt like himself again. "Smooth flight," he praised Jack, who
beamed back over his shoulder as they strolled across from the pontoon
to pick up the rental truck. "The baby's butt of landings," he added,
grinning as Jack's shoulders straightened. This was true, in the
sense the plane was still on the water, rather than in it. Daniel
felt he owed Jack something for waking up after an hour, sweating and confused,
demanding he pull in, then barfing in the muffin bag.
Speaking of which…"Food?"
"Peg's Country Kitchen coming
right up," Jack promised.
"You're not going to make me
eat grit again are you?" Daniel demanded.
"Grits, and no. They're
not a Minnesota speciality. 'Peg' isn't from these parts. The
hominy grits being a bit of a giveaway," Jack said sarcastically.
"Does Minnesota have a cuisine?"
Daniel asked. "A nutritional equivalent to curling?"
"Are you going to be like this
the whole damn time?" Jack scowled at him.
Daniel peered over the top of
his glasses. "I've been hanging out with some prick called Jack O'Neill
too long."
Jack grinned despite himself.
"Yes, Daniel. Minnesota has food. You may have heard of some
of our quaint regional dishes. Like…let me see…Chicken? Pork.
Turkey. Potatoes. Sweetcorn. Green peas. Wild rice.
If you're good, I may even treat you to Lutefisk."
"Lutefisk?"
"Norwegian/Minnesotan," Jack
said cheerfully. "It's a…fragrant…dish."
Daniel perked right up.
He liked ethnic cuisine. "Is Peg's the place we went last time?
Where we had that pie? What was it called?"
"Caramel apple granny."
Jack licked his lips. "Oh, yeah!"
"Are we there yet?"
"Don't make me turn this vacation
around," Jack teased, stopping by the truck he'd apparently rented.
Daniel looked at the truck for
some time. "Hertz?" he asked dubiously. The truck was a little
on the - um - seasoned side. In fact, it was depreciating before
his very eyes.
"Don't diss the truck, Daniel,
just get your ass in it. It's four-wheel drive," Jack said defensively
as he tossed his bag.
"It has four wheels, certainly.
I'm suspending judgement on the drive part until I see it move," Daniel
announced briskly as he slid his bag into the back too. He couldn't
for the life of him work out why it was so heavy. He didn't pack
that much.
Welling was a little bigger
than a one horse town in the sense you'd still see the town even if a few
horses stood in front of it, but Peg's Country Kitchen was the local supermarket,
liquor store, diner, bar 'n' grill and throbbing heart of downtown entertainment.
The 'Peg' in question was from
down south, in the sense Florida was definitely south of Minnesota, but
he didn't answer to anything but Vinny. His recipe book was inherited
from his grandmother though, and if Daniel recalled correctly, she was
called Peg. Daniel had a sneaking suspicion Vinny was either in the
witness protection programme or tragically still campaigning to get 'Miami
Vice' back on the air.
"Hey!" Vinny called sociably
when they wandered into the diner part of the establishment. "Jack
and Balsamic Boy."
Jack laughed.
Daniel trod on Jack's foot,
trying not to sniff Jack too blatantly while he was all up close and personal.
Jack smelled good.
Tasted better.
He was certain grits would taste
better too with a dash of balsamic, most things did, and grits could hardly
taste worse.
"Two blue plate specials," Jack
ordered confidently.
"Light on the grits?" Vinny
asked dryly.
"And the cholesterol," Daniel
muttered. A vitamin would die a lonely death on any plate Vinny served
up.
"Caramel apple?" Jack
asked anxiously, eyeing the menu board.
"Fresh today," Vinny assured
him. He hollered their order in the general direction of the kitchen.
A harried waitress bustled straight
out bearing two heaped blue plates. The men watched as she selected
a table at random from the array of empty tables…
"Lunchtime rush over?" Daniel
asked brightly.
…tossed the plates down, then
dashed away.
"I think that's us," Jack suggested
innocently, his lips quirking.
"You spend a lot of time with
Balsamic Boy, huh?" Vinny asked Jack.
"What can I say?" Jack said
expansively. "I rub off on people."
"Like warts," Daniel suggested
sweetly. He sauntered over to the pine table - Peg's was long on
pine and short on ye olde pioneer atmosphere - feeling slightly apologetic
for his pissiness. The intense sexual frustration of four years of
celibacy could do that to a man. Especially a man who would be crawling
into a big, romantic Victorian bed with the completely sexy and infuriating
man he was in love with and was extremely attracted to.
Extremely.
It was Jack's fault that if
Daniel didn't have sex soon he would die. It also wasn't Jack's fault,
in a way; he didn't know he was killing Daniel or anything, but Daniel
was in no mood to be fair.
He was in the mood to sweat.
He had been for quite some time.
He wanted Jack to pin him flat
and fuck him senseless.
He settled for sitting quietly
opposite him and eating his lunch. Or was it dinner and supper in
Minnesota? The food was actually nice. Pissiness apart, the
steaks were perfectly cooked, the gravy rich, the mashed potatoes buttery,
and Minnesotan green peas were plump and sweet.
Jack was sweet too, relaxing
before Daniel's covetous eyes, his mood softening by the minute.
He seemed determined to coax a smile out of Daniel. Not that Jack
minded the pissiness, he thought it was cute, and funny.
Daniel loved him and so he smiled.
He never relaxed around Jack these days, but he could put on a show good
enough to fool even his sternest critic; i.e., Jack. They ate slowly,
savouring the food, the companionable silence and each other. They
had always worked at their relationship, but as distant and hurt as Daniel
was some days, their friendship had never been easier or calmer.
When they were finished, Daniel
paid for lunch and asked for a whole caramel apple pie to take with them.
Naturally Jack had to holler 'hold the granny!' as he headed out of the
diner and round to the grocery store part. Daniel followed him in
to discover his role was gopher. Jack liked to push the cart - with
a panache that reminded Daniel irresistibly of 'Wacky Races' - so he got
to fetch and carry. Jack rather enjoyed running him around the store,
issuing orders in a resistibly lordly manner.
The cabin had a generator, which
meant they got refrigeration, but Jack liked to use kerosene lamps and
light the fire at night. He was incredibly sensitive to atmosphere,
a strange by-product of his Special Ops training. Daniel was also
incredibly sensitive to atmosphere and wasn't looking forward to long romantic
evenings curled up with Jack. Curling up with Jack tended to raise
his blood pressure - or lower it emphatically - and Daniel's appreciation
of the ambience was likely to be severely hampered by legitimate concerns
about, random example here, hurling himself at Jack and biting him.
It wasn't a long drive into
town, but they didn't want to have to do it. Vacations weren't supposed
to be about having to do anything so they stocked up on fruit, vegetables,
bread, pasta, rice, steaks, chicken and fish - over Jack's vociferous protests
at the implied insult - and snacks, including popcorn and local dairy-made
ice cream, taking a carton each of vanilla, maple pecan and something intriguingly
proclaiming itself 'Lemon Soul'. Beer followed the food, then milk,
cheese, eggs and OJ, and finally a cooler. Daniel had his own coffee
packed.
The grocery bill was staggering.
Both of them blinked.
"Maybe we shouldn't have picked
out the gold plated beer," Jack grumbled.
The clerk smiled placidly while
tapping the large 'no personal cheques' sign parked next to the cash register.
Daniel leaned in to check out
the small print on the sign as Jack handed over his MasterCard. It
said '*CASH* register. Nothing subliminal about it'.
"Eat slow!" Jack ordered Daniel.
"I guess you're too smart to
smart to say eat lots of fish," Daniel observed primly. Mostly because
god would have smote Jack mightily on the spot for a whopper like that.
"Have you ever caught a fish?" he asked politely.
"I'm not answering that," Jack
responded with cold dignity.
"So the rumours are true, then,"
Daniel smirked.
"Rumours?" Jack stiffened.
It was popularly believed at
the SGC - and probably all over Becker County, Minnesota - that Jack had
not in fact caught a fish, ever, and the whole pond thing was just a cover
because he was too embarrassed to admit he loved the place and liked to
hang out here soaking up the pine scented atmosphere.
There were only so many sap
jokes a man could take, even a man like Jack, who told them.
"That Minnesota is the land
of ten thousand lakes and two fish, neither of which live in your pond,"
Daniel said cheerfully.
"None of them lived in your
tank!" Jack unkindly reminded him.
Daniel deflated. He'd
tried, god knows he'd tried, but sometimes his schedule was…murderous.
Literally. He sighed, biting his lip.
Jack was staring at him, an
odd look in his eyes. "Sorry," he muttered. "That was low.
True," he emphasised, "but low."
"You told Teal'c that fishing
isn't about the fish per se," Daniel observed placidly.
Jack's face darkened at this
tactless reminder.
The fishing was something Daniel
could easily tolerate because he would get to watch Jack's body working
and flowing without bothering Jack in any way.
It wasn't a case of suddenly
gay for him. He didn't think it was a case of gay at all.
He didn't care for labels. Maybe it was arrogant of him, but Daniel
liked to think his experiences had helped him to make that leap of faith,
to see beyond labels and what were supposed to be his limitations.
"Did you even bring your rod?"
Jack snapped.
Daniel blinked at the double-entendre.
"Yes, I have my…um…" He waved a finger. It went everywhere
he went, and had a tendency to rise to the occasion every time he got within
touching distance of Jack. He'd been looking at Jack and admiring
for a long time. The change to looking and wanting had been gradual.
His attraction was to all the complex strengths, flaws and quirks that
made up the man, and that need was beyond his volition. He couldn't
be without Jack.
Over time the pull had become
specifically physical. Wanting had become needing, and not having
hurt him. Daniel wasn't the type for casual sex and not purely because
of his inhibitions. His own defences were such that he needed to
know the other person before he could make himself so vulnerable to them.
Desire was to him the need to have all of the other; impossible for him
to separate the physical from the emotional.
"No you don't. You brought
a bag full of books and you're going to sit on your ass reading while I
work mine off!" Jack vigorously refuted.
Daniel hoped this was true.
He wanted a ring-side seat for any ass-action. He could see the beauty
in masculinity, a different need than he'd felt before, hard edged and
maybe selfish in how he imagined expressing it, but still touched with
the familiar. As well as he knew Jack, he knew himself. Daniel
imagined all the possibilities of being with Jack and what drew him time
and again was the equality of their physicality. With Jack, he wouldn't
fear his own aggression or be consumed with giving; there could be taking
of pleasure without the possibility of miscommunication.
"I'm on vacation," Daniel said
placidly.
"Working your way through a
week's supply of textbooks is not a vacation. Fish!"
"I can't stand the excitement.
Janet said I had to rest."
They understood one another,
as men, as individuals, as friends. That HAD to be there in the physical.
If Jack could only open himself to the possibility, with all that he felt
for Daniel, it had to be the same for him. It was in him to make
that leap of faith. Daniel was more certain of Jack than of himself.
That was why Daniel felt this
was it, that Jack was it for him. Everything he had ever wanted,
ever dreamed of having, was there for him in one man.
"Well wear your damn boonie,
for god's sake. I don't want you getting sunstroke." Jack paused
at the door. "You do have your Sunblock? Right?"
Daniel ground his teeth.
If only he could get the man to SEE him.
They carried the groceries out
to the truck, stowed everything and made the short drive out to Jack's
cabin. It was warm for June, the skies clear and the air sweet and
drowsy with early summer heat. Daniel divided his time between the
scenery rolling past them and Jack's hands on the steering wheel.
Despite himself, his gaze focused on the clean, strong lines of Jack's
face and throat.
"Beautiful," he sighed.
Jack smiled at him, pleased.
"Nowhere like Minnesota," he said softly.
"Is it still home?" Daniel asked.
"Oh, yeah," Jack murmured.
"I plan to retire here. Buy a dog. Fish," he added defiantly.
"Probably the only way you'll
catch any," he riposted, grinning as Jack glared at him, visibly ran the
ensuing exchange through in his mind and settled for offended silence.
Daniel figured he could stick
a satellite dish out back of the cabin and work from a laptop…He caught
himself up on the stupid thought, flushing. He flushed even more
when he couldn't stop the jumble of images…making love in that big bed
with the world silenced and glittering with snow…
They were pulling in behind
the cabin before Daniel had to explain why he was blushing. "I'll
take the groceries if you want to start the generator and chop wood," he
offered hastily, jumping out.
"Sure," Jack said easily.
Daniel went straight in with
the first box of groceries and set it down on the table, returned to the
truck for the second, then oriented himself. The kitchen end of the
cabin was directly in front of him, the cleaning stuff in the cupboard
beneath the ceramic sink if he remembered right. The refrigerator
was behind the cabin door, the stove on the wall opposite. The first
thing he had to do was clean the refrigerator with a weak solution of bicarbonate
of soda to sterilise it. Then he loaded the groceries and switched
on. The stove would have to wait until Jack brought the first load
of wood in.
When he went out to the truck
for their luggage, the rhythmic crack of wood was sounding in the clearing
behind the cabin. Daniel grabbed both bags and hauled them in.
Teal'c had performed his Kel'No'Reem ritual in front of the fire, and if
Sam ever came up here, Jack would give up the bed and take the couch, but
Daniel, the horny, desperate one, was expected to share the bed.
C'est la vie.
The kitchen table was placed
between the old navy-blue couch and the kitchen proper. Together
they were all the furniture in the room except for the low bookcases set
beneath the windows. There were plenty of windows and plenty of light,
the heat from the fire warming the rooms even in winter. Two doors
led off from the far end of the room, one to the tiny bathroom, the other
to the bedroom.
Daniel pushed open the bedroom
door, his eyes going at once to the huge iron bedstead. He had to
retrieve the bedding from the chest at the foot of the bed. The patchwork
comforter picked up the colours in the other room, navy, wine and cream.
There was a large oak wardrobe behind the bed, and a dresser under the
window. He had to head into the kitchen to grab polish and a duster.
His sinuses couldn't take this kind of dust. When the room was clean,
and Daniel had done all the work he intended to for the duration of his
stay, he lifted his bag onto the bed and unlocked it.
He stood staring at the contents
for quite some time. He distinctly remembered packing. He always
planned for trips in advance because he never knew if missions would keep
them off-world longer than expected. His bag had been ready.
He had no memory of unpacking last night, but he must have, because instead
of comfortable jeans and loose shirts, he had a bag full of skin-tight,
slinky and skimpy.
What the hell had he and Sam
been talking about last night, anyway? There was a note on the top
that said 'BRIGHT LIGHTS, SMALL CITY. GO FOR IT!!!! LOVE SAM
XXX'. He also had all the necessary components for the oppressive
skincare regime and seven books, one of which was the Colorado Springs
phone directory. It was bristling with post-it notes. Daniel
was afraid to look. He was on vacation with Jack. Two days
ago he had been caught in flagrante-ish with Jack. He had mentioned
needing to get laid. Or words to that effect. That was a very
simple equation for a blitzed astrophysicist with an 'As if!' sense of
humour.
As if. Words to live by.
Daniel kept dragging things
out of the bag, relieved to find that at least he'd kept his essentials,
including the flannel pyjama bottoms and navy tee he needed as hard-on
camouflage.
His hiking boots and shaving
kit were right in the bottom and that was all she wrote. Literally.
Who exactly did Sam think he
could pick up in the wilds of Minnesota? It COULDN'T be Jack.
Maybe she'd been misled by the 'city' part too. If there was a thriving
metropolis wall to wall with desperate singles it wasn't anywhere near
here.
Daniel was trapped in the little
cabin in the big woods with a sprawling, affectionate colonel and a wayward
penis.
He was doomed.
Jack's warm breath against the
nape of his neck made him jump out of his skin, and when he landed, it
was in Jack's arms, hooking comfortably around his waist. Jack rested
his chin on Daniel's shoulder and surveyed the evidence spread out over
the bed.
Daniel stood speechless, his
heart racing.
"What the hell is that?" Jack
asked eventually.
What the hell is THIS? Why -
why wasn't Jack letting go, backing off? Didn't he realise he wasn't
supposed to touch Daniel? He - he couldn't. Daniel was hard,
already. He shook his head mutely, unable to think of a word
to say.
"I use Clinique myself," Jack
sniffed disparagingly.
It broke whatever it was that
had held Jack in place and he stepped back, freeing Daniel to stroll around
to pick up his bag and attend to his own unpacking. They engaged
in some kind of bizarre dance, Jack quite without his usual grace or anything
approaching his acute awareness of his own space. Every time Daniel
turned round, Jack was there, hips or ass or hands hard against him, skimming
past him, all over him, around him.
Jack was driving him crazy.
His body was thrumming with need, hypersensitive to every move Jack made,
which made him tense and edgy. It got worse when Jack decided to
change. He simply peeled off his sweatshirt and took his time choosing
a T-shirt to exchange it for.
Daniel stood silent, his eye
drawn down the length of Jack's spine, exulting over the sleek muscles
moving beneath the smooth, golden skin. There wasn't an ounce of
spare fat on Jack, from the still trim waist to the broad shoulders.
When Jack turned casually to pull on his tee, Daniel could see the fine
hairs furring his chest, the dusky nipples…the flat, still-taut abdomen…he
swallowed convulsively, nothing but glad when Jack sauntered out carrying
the phone directory for fire lighting duty.
Despite the incriminating contents
of his wardrobe, Daniel had no choice but to get out of his clothes. They
were clinging to him, unpleasantly clammy and stale. Sighing, he
changed into the black jeans and shirt, the least offensive of his choices,
and like Jack, left his shoes in the bedroom.
Jack raised his eyebrow when
Daniel wandered out but after his swift once-over, made no comment.
Daniel accepted a bowl of ice cream and took it outside to sit with Jack
on the dock, his feet dangling just above the cool water. Jack's
thigh was hot against his; he was sitting close, but staring intently into
the middle distance.
Daniel gradually relaxed, the
mellow heat and peace sinking into his bones. He slumped towards
Jack and caught himself up, and then Jack's hand curved over his shoulder
and he allowed himself to lean, a little.
They were lulled by the sunlight
dancing on the gentle ripples of water and the warm wind sighing through
the leaves. Daniel didn't really notice when Jack's arm slid around
his waist, he simply lost himself in the closeness, the quiet, unspoken
affection.
"Colorado is beautiful, but
I feel lost, sometimes, in the mountains," he murmured dreamily.
"You love the desert," Jack
said quietly.
"No," Daniel frowned.
"It's too harsh, requires too much focus. I admire the beauty, I
even admire that harshness, the way the people who live in that environment
don't just survive, but measure themselves against it. I don't miss
it. I don't miss Abydos. I miss the people."
Jack turned towards him a little
but didn't free him.
Heat surged through Daniel,
but his voice was steady as he went on. "I'm drawn to the ocean.
I've rarely lived near it, except for my time in LA, but it's the ocean
I miss. I wasn't prepared for the power of it, like a physical pull
of attraction. Sunday mornings were my downtime. I used to
bike out to where it was quiet, where I could sit and watch the ocean.
I would lose myself. Sunset too - watching the light change, the
water blazing, and the sound of the waves in the dark. I miss it."
"You couldn't live in a place
like this?"
"I can live anywhere," Daniel
corrected him softly. "But a place I can sit and watch the water…"
Jack rose gracefully to his
feet, stooping to take Daniel's hand and pull him up.
Daniel was confused. He
was used to Jack touching him, casual affectionate gestures Jack couldn't
help, even intimacies like ruffling his hair. It wasn't even the
first time Jack had taken his hand. They were just walking towards
the cabin, though, not through a cell heated by hellfire on Netu.
Still, Jack didn't let go. He didn't seem to notice he was holding
Daniel's hand, so it seemed pointless to make a fuss.
Daniel stayed confused.
Jack vetoed chess in favour of popcorn and seemed to be in Daniel's space
the whole time as they made it. Every time he turned around, Jack
was in his way, his body against Daniel's. Daniel would glance up
and find Jack watching him, and Jack would turn it with an easy comment.
As Daniel curled up on the couch,
the bowl at his side, Jack lit the fire then put a CD on. He took
his mini stereo everywhere. He turned the music down low, the soft,
rich tones of kd lang echoing as the dusk closed in.
Jack moved the bowl and sat
next to Daniel. "I don't trust you. You're a bottomless pit
when it comes to popcorn," he teased lightly.
They wound up with the bowl
balanced on their knees and a constant tangle of reaching fingers.
Jack seemed to need the nearness
of a lover, draping his arm around Daniel's shoulders. It was almost
as if - as if Jack was trying to seduce him.
"Tell me about Minnesota," Daniel
asked, desperate for something to take his mind off Jack's nearness, the
heat of his thigh hard against Jack's, the way Jack was holding him.
"Home."
"You were raised in Chicago."
"It's still home. This
was my grandpa's cabin." Jack ate a huge handful of popcorn, chewing
beatifically. "He used to come up here from Bemidji to fish."
"Did your Grandmother come with
him?" Daniel asked, hungry for details of Jack's past.
Jack snorted. "He came
up here to be alone. Not me, though. I like company.
I like to talk."
"I noticed," Daniel said dryly.
He jumped when Jack squeezed his nape, going very still when Jack didn't
remove his hand. Daniel looked desperately into the fire, his face
heating from the warmth of Jack's fingers cupped around the nape of his
neck.
"I never planned to retire here
alone," Jack confided. "It wouldn't be right."
"No?" Daniel was astonished
his voice was so steady. Jack's fingers were slipping idly into his
hair and he was about one wheeze away from needing to gasp into a paper-bag.
"I always thought…"
"Minnesota…I guess it means
family to me," Jack said quietly. "Everyone together, talking, just
hanging out, being close, having fun. Having time for one another
no matter how many people were around. And the place…"
"It's beautiful."
Jack looked directly at him.
"Yes," he agreed, his voice soft with meaning. "Very. No matter
how hard I try to get away, to not want, I keep coming back." His
fingers were stroking through Daniel's hair.
Daniel swallowed painfully.
Jack reached up to brush his
thumb over Daniel's lip. "Coming back to you, Daniel."
"Can't you just say what you
mean, Jack?" he asked tightly, wishing Jack would stop touching him, give
him some room. Let him read these signals, think a little.
"I can do that." Jack's
hand cupped his head and pulled him forward to meet Jack as he leaned in.
Daniel flinched, trying to pull
away, but he didn't make it. Jack's mouth closed over his in a lingering
kiss. He sat mute, too stunned to respond.
"Clear enough for you?" Jack
murmured against Daniel's mouth.
"No." Daniel took a deep,
shaken breath. "It's not clear at all, Jack. Why? Why
would you kiss me?" he asked, quietly determined despite the way his pulse
was hammering.
"Well, I didn't buy that amnesia
act for a second, so maybe I should be asking why you lied about kissing
me?" Jack riposted, leaning in again.
Daniel planted his hand on Jack's
shoulder and held him off. "You went along with me because it was
easier on you."
"Daniel, trust me, there's nothing
easy about this," Jack snapped.
"You're right. You are."
Which was exactly why Daniel wasn't falling into Jack's arms like some
moonstruck kid. He was far too aware of the potential consequences
if he failed to understand what had compelled Jack to kiss him. Losing
Jack's friendship, for one. Or his place on SG-1.
"So?" Jack asked, confidently
close.
"So I need time to think."
Daniel pulled away from Jack and got up. "About why we both lied."
"You think too much, Daniel.
Sometimes, you just need to go with it."
Daniel hesitated, hand on the
door. Go with what? Jack had never gone with it before.
He'd never even looked before. Daniel watched and thought about Jack
all the time, he loved him, and he didn't have a fucking clue why Jack
had kissed him back on Shreve, or why Jack would kiss him now. There
was too much at stake for him to fuck this up. As much as he wanted
Jack, he had to be sure, and he didn't have it in him now to be sure of
anything. He was bewildered and tired. So very tired.
"Daniel?"
"Later, Jack, please," Daniel
said wearily.
"Fuck!" Jack snapped in exasperation
as Daniel quietly closed the bedroom door on him.
Daniel stumbled through undressing,
threw on his pyjamas and tumbled into bed. He lay drowsing, too exhausted
and anxious to think about anything, his mind racing, aware of the quiet
music and Jack's movements around the cabin. He rolled onto his side,
his back to where Jack would be sleeping, when he heard Jack in the bathroom.
Daniel kept his eyes closed as the door opened and Jack moved noiselessly
over to the wardrobe. The soft rustles ceased after a few minutes
and Jack slid into the bed.
Daniel lay still and prayed
for Jack to go out like a light. He jumped when Jack spooned up behind
him and threw an arm across his waist. He heard his own quick, shallow
breaths, thunderously loud to him in the still evening air.
Jack sighed heavily behind him,
and then his arm tightened, pulling Daniel around and into his arms.
"Jack," Daniel protested, trying
to edge away.
"Daniel," Jack responded, holding
on.
They were touching the full
length of their bodies, Daniel's face burning as he realised Jack could
feel his swelling erection.
"I can't," Jack said bleakly.
Daniel's heart skipped a beat.
He nodded jerkily. He guessed he had his answer. Maybe Jack
was attracted to him, but not enough. A few minutes alone to think,
and whatever momentary impulse that had compelled Jack to kiss him, he
was past. Reality had asserted itself. There was no comfort
whatsoever in knowing his instincts had been right to walk away.
It took everything he had to reach out to his friend through the suffocating
weight of all those unspoken hopes never to be realised. "I - I underst…"
"Don't THINK, Daniel, for Chrissake!"
Jack snarled. "Just DO." And then Jack kissed him passionately,
his mouth hard, almost harsh against Daniel's, insistent pressure forcing
his lips to part and Jack plunged into him, driving deep, demanding, aggressive,
his tongue stabbing over Daniel's.
Daniel took it, took everything
Jack had to give him, pulling his head down urgently. He went eagerly
when Jack shoved at him, was braced and waiting when Jack rolled on top
of him, parting his legs willingly as Jack pushed roughly at him.
Jack's weight on him was what
he burned for, the rough fingers gentle on his face, the wildness of the
kiss, the bruising need he'd never expected to arouse in Jack - he exulted
in it all.
Beautiful, beautiful man.
They snatched quick, heaving
breaths and plunged into one another again, Jack biting at his lips, pushing
him until he sucked on Jack's tongue, chewed on it gently. Gentling
Jack, a little. Daniel was insistently straining up into Jack's body,
hooking his legs around Jack's, desperate for more.
"How do you want this?" Jack
hissed against his mouth. "Tell me. Tell me how you want me
to fuck you."
"L-like this," Daniel gasped
as Jack rained kisses over his throat.
Jack reared back to yank his
T-shirt up over his head, then reached for Daniel's. Daniel sat up
to help him, and then Jack's hands were tugging feverishly at his pyjamas.
There was a brief confusion of shifting bodies and curses, then Jack's
skin was sliding over his, settling on him. Daniel moaned as Jack's
steely erection stroked over his, opening his eyes to see Jack clumsily
opening a tube of something or other, squirting the lotion onto his fingers,
then he scooted down Daniel's body. He kissed Daniel's belly, nosing
into him, inhaling ecstatically. Daniel writhed when Jack tongued
his navel then froze as he felt a slick, cool pressure at his anus.
He arched soundlessly as Jack's finger steadily pushed into him.
"So tight, Danny, Jesus," Jack
gloated.
Daniel yelled as Jack's hand
closed over his penis, his thumb brushing over and over the sensitive head.
He shivered helplessly, yelling out again as Jack began to pump him greedily,
his whole body tensing with dizzying waves of pleasure, some of it from
that stunning alien pressure inside him, rocking easily, stroking sure
and deep.
He realised dimly that Jack
really did mean to just fuck him, that Jack's confidence meant he at least
had done this before, he'd fucked another man…
Jack - Jack thought he had too.
"I'm a virgin," Daniel blurted,
anxious to have only the truth between them.
A shudder ran right through
Jack, then he was withdrawing, slipping his finger free of Daniel, rolling
away to throw his arm over his eyes.
Daniel lay still as Jack fought
for control, his sweat-soaked chest heaving. He had a fatalistic
feeling that whatever Jack said now, it would be the wrong thing, the one
thing he didn't want to hear.
"You shouldn't have kissed me."
Daniel reached out tentatively,
resting his hand on Jack's belly. Jack took his hand.
"I know," Daniel agreed quietly.
"You've never been with a man?"
"No. I want to be with
you, though." Daniel was scared by the quiet, deliberate interrogation.
Scared because he couldn't read Jack and that was something he counted
on. Jack was so much a part of him.
"I would have fucked you clean
into next Tuesday."
"I wanted you to. I still
want…"
"So do I, and I can't," Jack
interrupted tightly. "And I can't not."
"Jack, I…"
"I'm not supposed to touch you
and I can't keep my hands off you. I never could," Jack laughed,
a sound without humour. "Big joke here. Cosmic fucking sarcasm.
I've never been with a man either. I was married. I'd still
BE married if…" Jack bit the words off. "I'm straighter than straight,
career goddamn military here. I'm your C.O. for Chrissake.
How do I reconcile that against the fact I want to have sex with you?
When we both know now exactly how much I want you." He rolled onto
his side, facing Daniel, reaching out tentatively to cup his face.
"What do we do, Daniel? What the hell do we do now?"
Take a chance? Were they
- was he not worth a chance?
"I was lying to myself, telling
myself it was okay to fuck over everything I believe in, that I could do
it, have it all, the job and you. I can't. I can't take the
risk," Jack said flatly.
"You were all over me a few
minutes ago, risk or not!" Daniel flared, his sudden anger fear-sharpened.
"What changed?"
"You."
"What?" Daniel gasped.
"I thought - the way you were
looking at me…if one of us had done this before, knew what we were getting
ourselves into…"
"If I was a practising homosexual,
Jack, trust me, you'd have known it. I would have been fucking you
by now," Daniel snapped. He didn't miss the brief flash of distaste
on Jack's face and all his stupid, private hopes were, in that moment,
misconceptions. "You sonovabitch," Daniel whispered, totally done
in by what he'd just seen. He pulled away from Jack, rolled out of
bed, yanked on his pyjama bottoms with shaking hands and walked away.
He was too numb to grieve his
abrupt loss of certainty, of self, so bound up was he in Jack.
Jack caught Daniel as he stepped
in front of the banked fire, shivering with reaction and blindly seeking
warmth. Jack grabbed his shoulders, angry and - and frightened, Daniel
realised. It didn't soften him. He pulled at Jack's hands,
wanting him away, but Jack's fingers clenched. "Don't touch me!"
he flashed.
"I CAN'T STOP!" Jack yelled,
his face contorted.
"YOU HAVE TO!"
Daniel was struggling in earnest
and Jack tripped him, slamming him down onto the couch, grabbing his wrists
as he surged up to force him flat. Jack rolled on top of him, holding
him down. "Jack, no," Daniel protested wearily, looking away from
Jack's tight, hungry face. "No. You don't get to HAVE me.
If you w-wanted…" His voice shook. "It's not about the sex."
It was supposed to be about
equality and honesty, about Daniel trusting, letting go; giving Jack everything.
Giving himself. About Jack giving his trust too.
"I know! I LOVE YOU,"
Jack roared. "I want - I NEED to be with you! Don’t you get
that? What the hell else do I have to do to convince you?"
"Convince me that we're equals,
that making love doesn't mean you inside me, Jack," Daniel said simply.
"I've never done this before,"
Jack muttered uneasily.
"Neither have I. I'm a
man, and I still want you inside me. You don't want me that way.
You've made that clear. Whatever this is, it's about you and your
needs, Jack. Not mine. You. Not us," Daniel told him
with quiet dignity. "A relationship with such a fundamental inequality
would never work, no matter what our circumstances. I can't let you
fuck me if I'm surrendering my right to your respect and that's what I
saw on your face, Jack."
Exactly that. Jack wanted
him, true enough, but Jack assumed. He didn't accept. If he
could fuck Daniel and that was the only way it could be for them, then
Daniel was nothing but a cipher. Jack loved him, but still didn't
see him. Jack saw gender and labels, and the limitations Daniel hadn't
seen in him would keep them apart.
Jack wanted him despite the
fact he was a man.
It hurt, because somewhere at
the heart of Jack was an unacknowledged need to be dominant, and there
could be no sharing.
As little as Daniel cared for
labels, there was one that would fit if he went along with this.
The bottom. Maybe it was what he too would want and need, but it
didn't matter because he didn't have the choice and he wouldn't let Jack
take it from him.
"You have a deeper need than
I ever knew to be the guy in charge, to be in control. I won't take
anything less than equality because I believe love is about trust and sharing,
not need and control. So let me up," he demanded.
"You're leaving me," Jack recognised,
instinctively trying to hold Daniel, to keep him.
"In the morning. There's
n-no point s-staying." Daniel fought to swallow the quiver in his
voice. "I've got to get past this because if I can't, then I can't
be your friend." Shit. Oh, yeah. Well done! Way
to keep it together, Jackson. Although, on the up-side, at least
you're not blubbing, he thought bitterly. "Get off me!" he snarled,
heaving up, Jack riding it out to pin him flat again.
"Jack. Get. Off.
Me."
"Daniel. You. Are.
NOT. Leaving. Me."
Daniel looked at him then.
Really looked. "I can't, can I?" he whispered. "We can't."
"I fucked up here," Jack said
tiredly. "I don't need you to tell me that."
Daniel flexed his wrists.
"This is not helping."
Jack freed him and sat up, planted
dead centre on the couch so Daniel had to scramble round him, off-balance,
literally as well as…
"Bastard."
Jack flinched, looking away.
"I've never THOUGHT about being with a man," he said, his voice edged with
anger now. "I made an assumption, based on what I KNOW, Daniel, which
is women. I didn't mean - Jesus." He turned abruptly to glare
at Daniel. "It isn't YOU. I don't want you to fuck me.
Is that what you want me to say? I don't. That doesn't mean
I WON'T. How do I know? I've never thought about it.
I haven't had time."
"That's fair," Daniel agreed,
surprising Jack. "It is a fair point, Jack." He wasn't sure
of anything at this point, least of all his motivations. Whatever
Daniel wanted, whatever Jack said, and thought he meant, when it came down
to it, Jack couldn't let him go, and Daniel - he couldn't leave.
He didn't know what they were supposed to do now, because he was right
about one thing. Jack was right too. They couldn't be apart.
Neither was whole without the other. And if they couldn’t be together,
where did that leave them?
"You were right," Daniel sighed.
"We can't and we can't not." He realised Jack was imperceptibly closer
than he'd been and he instinctively moved away.
"Come to bed," Jack coaxed,
setting his hand on Daniel's knee.
Daniel swallowed. "Here.
I-I'm sleeping here."
Jack's shoulders slumped.
He got up and moved away, turning to stare at Daniel.
"Are you going to give me the
silent treatment until we fly out?" Jack snapped.
Daniel quietly turned the page
of his book. He was nursing his cooling mug of coffee between his
cold hands.
Probably shock.
"You kissed me back!" Jack accused.
"I apologise for that."
His hands were kind of shaky
too.
Why the HELL had he kissed Jack
- after everything he'd said last night! Everything he believed.
Jack had hurt him enough without him doing this to himself too.
"I don't. No way in hell.
It's what we both want," Jack announced defiantly as he slammed his plate
into the sink, a tidal wave of water slopping over the edge, soaking him.
He jumped back cursing.
Daniel supposed this was his
fault too.
"I don't understand why you
want me to fuck you and you won't let me," Jack insisted as he angrily
turned his chair and sat with his arms leaning across the back of it.
His fingers tied themselves in restless knots, the only outward sign of
his agitation.
It had been a long night for
both of them.
"Perhaps it has something to
do with the fact you assumed I was gay because I wanted you," Daniel said
dryly, finally making eye contact. Jack was seething, his eyes wintry.
"Not an unreasonable assumption.
Straight men don't normally want other men to fuck them," Jack riposted.
"Apparently gay men only want
to be fucked, which means there must be a whole lot of gay guys out there
not getting any," Daniel suggested smoothly, hiding his bitter disillusionment.
His anger. "Either that or they're all really lucky and landed themselves
some hot hetero willing to park his principles and fuck them six ways from
Sunday. Sweet deal, you know," he confided. "As long as they
don't give it up in return, they can go right on fooling themselves they're
straight, because everyone knows the guy on the bottom is the gay one."
"That's what you think of me?"
Jack asked stonily, a wave of dull red tiding his cheeks.
"That's what you told me," Daniel
whispered. He smiled. "Ironically, I thought…" He choked
on the thought as well as the words, dropping his head.
"What!" Jack fired the word
at him.
"I thought so much of you it
never crossed my mind you couldn't make the leap of faith," Daniel admitted
in a wooden little voice even he didn't recognise. "The same one
I made for you."
Jack flinched back like he'd
been slapped.
"I was prepared for no," Daniel
said drearily. "But not this."
"Do you want to fuck me?
Is that what this is about?"
Daniel shook his head.
"It's about choice. I've had it taken away from me too many times
to just…let it happen now. We don't - didn't have to rush.
All I wanted…" he faltered unhappily. "I expected that if you
wanted me, you'd be open," he said more strongly.
"I am."
The flush on Jack's face darkened
at Daniel's look of blank incredulity.
"And you want me." Jack was
immovable.
Daniel jumped up and walked
away without another word, angry all over again. Jack was assuming
a hell of a lot. Both of them wanting sex didn't make it right.
"Don't walk away from me!" Jack
yelled after him. "We're not finished."
We're never finished, Daniel
thought bleakly.
"Daniel. Oh, for God's
sake," Jack snarled. "Daniel!"
When he got into the bedroom,
Daniel turned and closed the door with quiet finality. He stripped
mechanically before snatching up his towel, wrapping it impatiently around
his waist. Maybe a shower would wake him from this dulling lethargy.
Help him think straight. Give Jack a hint. Daniel at least
had said all he intended to say.
Daniel imagined he felt the
heat of Jack's gaze on him as he walked out of the bedroom, his shaving
kit in one hand, the towel safely grasped in the other. He went into
the bathroom and kicked the door closed behind him.
He set the shower away, sitting
patiently on the side of the bath as the water heated, then climbed under
the pounding, steaming spray. He washed quickly, his mind a careful
blank, then leaned his forearm against the tile to rest his head and drift…
Daniel read steadily, the words
veering wildly between frozen on the page and running into one another,
none of them engaging his mind, let alone lifting him out of himself.
For a man who flew with the power of the words he lost himself in, it was
peculiarly painful to fight serried rows of neat black text for sense and
meaning. And fail. He didn't - he shouldn't even see the book.
He wasn't thinking straight.
Anything but, focused as he was on Jack's rigid, brooding presence on the
dock. He was worn out from being watched, weighed and in every way
found wanting.
Jack just didn't get it.
Didn't get him. Daniel thought about all the ways he'd screwed this
up and got mad all over again.
Jack had got him into bed.
Jack achieved this by the simple expedient of planting himself in front
of the fire with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at Daniel.
He had stared at Daniel, stared and stared until Daniel was demented, then
smugly trotted after him when he stormed into the bedroom.
Daniel was angry with Jack,
but he was furious with himself. He'd fallen into an uneasy, exhausted
sleep with his back pointedly turned and woke up deep in Jack's arms, raging.
Jack was as hard as he and they tore into one another, greedy and needing,
Daniel letting Jack tumble him onto his back, wiping the smirk from Jack's
face as he'd shoved hard at Jack's sweats and owned his ass.
He was right. Jack was
uncomfortable with him as a sexual being. There was none of that
distaste Daniel was looking for, but there was shock. Quickly concealed,
but there. Jack thought it was what killed the mood.
Daniel knew it was his wariness.
He was looking for rejection, waiting for it.
It was impossible. All
of it. Jack most of all. They loved one another. They
needed…they…
They couldn't keep their goddamn
hands off one another.
He was as disappointed in himself
as in Jack. More. Daniel could not in fact blame Jack for not
knowing which signal he was supposed to respond to. The joke was,
they were both out of their depth here. For all Daniel's fine ideals,
he had no more practical experience of this kind of relationship than Jack,
and his naïveté wasn't helping him or Jack to get through this.
Daniel was scared that they
wouldn't be able to put this behind them and go on being friends.
He was just as scared that he wouldn't be able to withstand Jack.
He lost someone he loved either way.
He couldn't lose himself.
Being friends, knowing one another
so damned well was confusing the hell out of them both. They read
each other too easily to lie with any success and keeping this defensive
distance was wearing on them both.
Jack's pointedly turned back
and stonily resistant silence suggested to Daniel they were past the point
of compromise. Battle lines had been drawn here. If they weren't
so stubborn…
Hurting.
"Jack?" he called tentatively.
Jack leaned down to pull another
beer out of his cooler.
Daniel got up and walked away.
He wasn't childish enough to slam the cabin door, and even if he was, he
wasn't about to give Jack the satisfaction. He was childish enough
to fling himself on the bed and pull the pillow over his head, like he
used to when he was a boy and the world was too much for him.
He was exhausted. He wanted
to empty his mind of his misery and rest. Not be hammered by a vivid
memory of sweaty, urgent entanglement. Daniel groaned as his wayward
penis filled, shifting his hips restlessly against the bed.
God, he ached.
It was so long since he'd been
with a lover. He was afraid he was forgetting how to love, how to
give. There was no one for him but Jack and they were as far from
one another as they'd ever been.
The sun was beating through
the window, playing over his slowly heating skin like a live thing.
Daniel shifted impatiently, rolling over to unbutton his shirt, having
to make do with giving himself what he needed, as he had so often.
He was never more alone than when he cried out as he came into his hand.
He gritted his teeth and snapped
his button open, yanking down the zipper to wriggle free of the too-tight,
too-sexy jeans. The heat of the sun pooled on his belly, warming
him a little. Daniel gave himself up to it, his jeans around his
hips, comfortably sprawled, hand moving lazily in the only rhythm his body
had known for too long.
He refused to rush, planting
one foot against the mattress to rock up into his leisurely pumping, fingers
tranquilly gripping and gliding, slowly pulling easy, empty pleasure from
him.
The dreary comfort of familiarity
drew him on, drew his climax out of him in long, lingering pulses.
For the first time in what felt
like forever, he didn't think of Jack when he came.
Daniel mechanically made himself
comfortable, mind determinedly focused on nothing, the heat soaking into
his still aching body, soothing his shivers.
After a while, he slept.
Daniel woke slowly, surfacing
to warmth of a very different kind, the warmth and weight of skin curved
possessively over him. He lay still, blinking slowly, confused and
conflicted enough to make him very, very careful.
Archaeologists tried not to
rush in where colonels feared to tread.
Jack's arm was heavy over his
chest, his own hands curled around Jack's bicep. Jack's chin rested
on his shoulder, his face nuzzled close to Daniel's. Soft breaths
gusted over his cheek. Jack's long, denim-clad leg lay between his
parted ones, his foot resting against Daniel's.
The message Jack was sending
was just this side of unequivocal, never mind subliminal.
'Mine'.
"Hi," Daniel said evenly.
"Hey."
Jack kissed his shoulder lingeringly,
licking at him with a wordless hum of appreciation, his toes stroking over
Daniel's.
"You bewildered me," Jack told
him quietly. "Still do," he added wryly.
"Why?"
"I don't know why." Jack
sat up a little and scowled at him. "What a stupid thing to say,"
he complained, settling back down to take a vengeful little bite at Daniel's
shoulder.
There was something of an instantaneous
physiological response from Daniel.
Wayward.
Hadn't he said that?
Maybe it was time to have a
man-to-penis talk. Tell the greedy little sucker straight; two minutes
of the colonel's hands was IT because unfortunately they came with the
rest of the colonel and he was a bastard.
A hot bastard, okay, and this
man's best friend and all that, but still…a bastard.
"Bewildered means I don't know!
Although I do know. It was your face," Jack propped himself up on
his elbow to stare intently at the face in question.
"Are you going to start on my
eyebrows again?" Daniel asked suspiciously, vigorously suppressing the
usual urge to be pedantic when Jack messed with his mind. Dictionary
definitions were too much of a stretch for a man whose body was thrumming.
"I can't help having expressive…"
"Perfectly arched," Jack said
matter-of-factly, a mere point of information.
Daniel's brows raised.
He blushed and wound up squinting down his own nose as he tried to get
them back to more or less where they should be instead of in his hairline.
He was not assisted in any way by Jack smoothing one gentle fingertip the
length of one of the alleged perfect arches.
"Beautiful," Jack breathed,
a light in his eyes Daniel had never seen before.
Daniel felt oddly breathless;
bitter, aching regret crowding his chest.
So close…
Too close.
"Too beautiful. Men aren't
supposed to be," Jack informed him, his tone flat. Definitive.
"It's not my adjective of choice
for the masculine form, no," Daniel agreed inconsequentially, too damn
tired to engage.
"Men aren't supposed to be beautiful
to ME," Jack qualified sharply.
"I'm sorry," Daniel apologised
profusely, glaring at Jack.
"Me too."
Daniel tried to sit at that
point, but Jack grimaced and shoved him flat.
"Suddenly you don't value honesty,
Daniel?" Jack sneered. "Right."
It seemed the most natural thing
in the world to reassure Jack, who only lashed out when he was hurting.
They were both hurting here, and the irony of it was they were each hurting
themselves more than the other. Daniel rested his palm over Jack's
wrist. The bruising grip at his shoulder eased in turn. "So
talk," he invited softly. He needed to understand Jack here.
He couldn't afford to fuck up. Too much - everything depended on
him getting this right.
If Daniel couldn't work through
this, it might cost him his friend and that could not happen. He
wouldn't lose Jack by default.
Jack's hand skimmed down Daniel's
body to spread wide over his abdomen, heaving now as his breath quickened
despite himself. Daniel looked desperately at the ceiling as Jack's
fingers slid under the waistband of his still open jeans. With slow
deliberation, Jack nudged the jeans further open and rubbed gently at the
bared skin, his fingertips following the narrow line of hair dusting Daniel's
groin.
Daniel clamped his hand over
Jack's as he got hard. "You can't," he reminded Jack.
Jack twisted his wrist, broke
free, snatched Daniel's hand in turn and yanked it down to his crotch.
They both gasped as Daniel's fingers curved over Jack's straining erection.
"I beat off," Daniel blurted,
blushing almost instantaneously.
"So did I," Jack said grimly.
"What?" Daniel demanded, dismayed
he'd missed it.
So? Maybe he was a bastard
too.
He was a guy.
Practically part of the job
description.
"Don't worry," Jack snorted,
a little amusement warming him. "I took pictures."
Daniel wasn't going to ask.
Among Peg's many civic services was one-hour photo development. "The
clerk would never overcharge us again," he said mischievously.
Jack winked at him, his hand
settling strongly on Daniel's abdomen. He sobered abruptly, staring
once again at Daniel's face. "THIS is where that bewildering face
of yours takes me. Straight to your dick. I want you.
I'm sorry I'm not real happy about that. But I want you to be clear
on this. I mean I'm not real happy NOW. This will change."
"Will it?" Daniel asked sceptically.
He had fallen for Jack by degrees, his feelings so encompassing he'd wasted
no energy trying to deny himself.
Jack grabbed his crotch and
looked sardonically at Daniel. "Trust me on that. I'm not real
big on self-hate and therapy. When it comes to adjusting, I'm a natural."
"Adjusting," Daniel echoed dispassionately.
"Damn straight!" Jack yelled.
"I want to FUCK my closest friend. I had a hard enough time adjusting
to the fact I LOVED you. Ask Hammond! His car got in my way."
"I'm sorry?" Daniel asked blankly.
Jack pulled a face. "You
were dead at the time," he dismissed the irrelevant interruption impatiently.
Then he rolled his eyes as Daniel's polite silence persisted. "Being
dead should never get old, Daniel. Nem?" he prompted.
"Oh. Oannes. I remember.
What did you do to the general's car?"
"Don't change the subject!"
Daniel counted to ten.
Slowly.
Oddly enough, he wanted to hit
Jack more.
"Let's summarise, shall we?"
Daniel snapped. "You want to fuck me. You really, really want
to fuck me. You're sorry you do but you can't stop. You find
the idea of anal penetration distasteful and yet - you still want to fuck
me. You want me and you don't want to want me. You think this
will all change if I go with the flow and presumably allow you to bang
my brains out while you work out which way is 'bottom'," he accused Jack
with cool, clipped precision. "Be still my beating heart," he added
sarcastically.
"What?" Jack bridled.
"Whoop de doo?" Daniel drawled
offensively.
"I'm baring my soul, here."
"Well, then, I'm here for you,"
Daniel admitted honestly. "As your friend you know I'd do anything
I could for you. I'm not baring my ass for you, though," he said
crisply. "Equals, Jack, or nothing. If you can't handle that,
I suggest you handle this." He reached across quickly and squeezed
Jack's crotch hard.
Jack went completely still and
literally quivered from head to foot.
Daniel's hand flooded with moist
heat.
Jack went very pale then flushed
vividly.
Daniel thought he was doing
better until he realised he was agitatedly patting Jack's damp crotch.
He blushed too and snatched his hand away.
Jack flopped onto his back,
pillowed his hands behind his head and glared sullenly at Daniel.
"Um…" Daniel took a deep breath,
feeling a little quivery himself. "I'll accept that you're…um, motivated,"
he said carefully.
Jack glared at him. "Ya
THINK?" he spat.
Back
to part 1 / On to Part 3
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