EASTER EGOS  BY PHOENIX E

Yum.  Chocolate covered colonel; my favourite Easter treat!

“Well?” Jack huffs impatiently, the abrupt movement of his chest jostling my hand and the brush in mid-stroke.

“You done yet?”

Doodies, he made me screw up the last character!  Oh well, not like it matters that much. My latest effort, not that great.  Although my trusty chocolate standard has never let me down, my experiments with the new syrups haven’t been as successful as I’d hoped.  The Amaretto is a little thick, the Banana too runny, but the Blueberry, now, that’s just right.  Two out of three ain’t bad, but it still means for the most part the medium’s made me mess up, considerably, and as for the actual message, I’m afraid my first go at Khuni cuneiform... 

I definitely need more practice.  Oh…darn.

Ah, the perils of attempting to expand one’s artistic horizons. Still, the advantages of using my present ‘canvas’ – I screw up I can just lick it clean and try again. Failure can be a sweet experience, and I can’t wait to savour this one.  On exquisite slurp at a time.  

I get plenty of practice, and I will admit to being a bit of a perfectionist, I mean anything worth doing is worth doing well, and as far as encouraging my artistic expression, Jack has never complained. 

By all means, he’s right on board with try, try again.

Ah, the things we do for our art!

“Danny?’  Jack grunts again, impatiently bucking his hips. "You?  Done?  Yet?  Any chance?"

“Well, I would be, if you’d stop moving!”  I scold him.  Okay, I’m dragging this out a bit longer than usual, he’s been pretty good so far, but Jack’s not the poster boy for patience on a good day, especially when he’s -

“Enough with the brush,” Jack growls, pointing meaningfully at the chocolate-covered erection jutting proudly from my greedily clenching fist.

My masterpiece.

“I want licking, not painting!” Jack warns.  “Now.”

Sounds good to me.  Gonna taste pretty good, too.

“Okey doke, keep your – okay, don’t keep your shorts on but just let me get rid of this.”

I keep a firm grip on Jack’s delectable dick with my left as I reach right to put the paintbrush on the night stand.  It’s not much of a stretch.  My whole house would probably fit it Jack’s twice, the bedroom, compared to his is definitely cramped quarters, but that also makes it kinda cozy, and let’s face it, we really don’t need a whole lot of room for what we’re planning to do.

I’ll admit, at first it was kinda weird to be hanging here, instead of Jack’s, which is where we usually spend most of our time, that is, we used to, before the April Fool’s fiasco, but ever since then Jack’s developed a sudden preference for my place over his, so this is where we’ve been, pretty much for the last month, whenever we want to spend some ‘quality time’, and I’m actually getting to like it.

Maybe that’s why I haven’t come out and asked Jack why he hasn’t had ‘the talk’ with Sam yet.  I know damned well he hasn’t; let’s face it, he wouldn’t be hiding out here if he had, but ultimately it’s his problem, his mess, and he’s the one who’s gonna have to deal with it, whenever.   Besides, it hasn’t been all that bad, really, Jack is still feeling so guilty about that evening he’s been spoiling me rotten, I’m getting to spend more time in my house than I have since I bought the damned thing, and all this time we’ve been blissfully doing it, and each other, completely free of any interruptions, at least from Sam, because wherever she’s been lurking it hasn’t been around here.

But you know what, as far as I’m concerned, whatever Sam has been up to in the interim is none of my business. This may sound selfish, but as long as it doesn’t inconvenience me I really don’t care.  I don’t know if she still has her heart set on Jack or not; as long as whatever she’s been doing or thinking hasn’t actually involved either one of us she can fill her boots.

So yeah, Jack’s gonna have to deal with her eventually, but not today.  Definitely, not now.

Jack’s got his mess, I’ve got mine.  I gotta tell you, mine’s gonna be a lot more fun.

Oh yeah, Operation Tongue is about to commence!

Jack’s eyes gleam lustfully at me surveying my prize.  Where to start, where to start, should I lick top to bottom, or bottom to top?  Maybe I should start in the middle.

Decisions, decisions.

I shoot Jack a smouldering look of my own, licking my lips before touching the tip of my tongue to…

Oh God, please – no!

Doorbell!

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding!” Jack groans.

“Who the hell could that be!”  I fume, banging my forehead on Jack’s thigh.

“Well, for once we know who it couldn’t be,” Jack grumbles, and then looks anxiously at me.

“It couldn’t be her – right?”

“No, definitely can’t be Sam.  She’s in San Diego.  Flew out last night.  But whoever it is,” I sigh, regretfully eyeing the treat I must temporarily – I hope – forgo.  “I have to answer it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack grumbles.  “Go on, go,” he waves me away.  “Go get rid of them. I’ll stay here and try to not to melt, run or…wilt.”

Reluctantly I relinquish Jack’s chocolate schlong, and gravity proving to be an even stronger force than arousal, it flops back against his belly with a forlorn squish.  The sound tears my heart out but I have no choice but to turn my back and leave my lover staring mournfully at it while I dart into the bathroom to wash my hands.

There’s the damned bell again.  Keep your pants on; I need to get my pants on.

And shirt.  Not going to bother with socks or underwear, after all it’s not like I’m gonna be dressed long.

God willing.

I close the bedroom door behind me and head for the front door doing a quick visual check for anything incriminating as I pass through, just in case.  Not that it’s really necessary; although both Jack and I are huge fans of spontaneity we’ve learned a few lessons over the years, the most recent being about a month ago, and we’ve trained ourselves not to leave clues lying around in any ‘public’ areas of either one of our residences we’re engaged in a torrid and highly illegal love affair.

It’s just safer that way.  You never know…

Yep, kitchen is clear. Syrup containers safely stashed in the fridge.  Living room clear.  No socks, underwear on any other discarded clothing items on display.  Jack’s shoes are in the bedroom along with the rest of his clothing and his coat is in the closet.

We’re good.

Who the hell can this be?  Mrs. Stevens?  Good grief, I hope Cuddles isn’t up a tree again, I’m not in the mood for doing Tarzan impersonations.  The last time I had to fetch that fuzzball down she clawed me to shreds – Cuddles, not Mrs. Stevens, the old dear is eighty if she's a day and usually pretty harmless, just don't mess with her petunias or you won't know what hit you - and I nearly broke my neck in the bargain. And please, God, not Vanessa.  If that’s her this’ll be three ‘Oh Daniel, I hope you don’t think I’m being a pest, but…’ pop-overs this week.  I think she’s overdoing the good neighbour thing just a tad.  Jack thinks she’s warm for my form, however, as she only seems to darken my doorstep whenever he’s here, I think he’s barking up the wrong babe.

Mind you so is she, but that's another story.

It can’t be Mr. Phelps complaining about the noise.  We haven’t blown the place up in oh, at least a week.

Whatever, any of them is the last thing I need right now.  Oh well, there’s one bright spot in all of this, whoever’s knocking on my front door, there’s no way it can be –

Sam.

“Sam!” I yelp loudly enough they ought to be able to hear me back on the mountain, and hopefully with enough volume to warn the chocolate and amaretto/banana/blueberry covered man in my bed behind the closed bedroom door we’ve got a problem. 

“I thought you were visiting your brother this weekend!”

What is she doing here she’s supposed to be in fucking San Diego!

“Well, I was,” Sam dimples coyly at me.  “I was all packed and everything.  About an hour before I had to catch my flight Mark called me and said he had to cancel.  Both the girls have come down with the flu.”

You’re kidding. Inconsiderate brats, why couldn’t they get sick on their own time?

“So, I didn’t have to leave after all,” she continues to beam, craning her neck around me in order to peer into the house because I’m currently proving to be a significant obstruction to both her vision and her obvious intention of breaching the bastion of my front door.  I’ve planted myself firmly in said doorway and am giving her no indication I have any intention of either moving or inviting her in.  I’m praying she’ll take the hint and…

Fuck off.

“I stopped by the colonel’s house and he wasn’t home. I know he wasn’t leaving town so he had to be somewhere in the Springs.  He seems to spend an awful lot of time with you lately, so on a hunch I thought I’d shoot on over – “

Interesting choice of words.  Wouldn’t mind shooting you right now.

I have no idea why, but in the deep, dark recesses of my brain wherein reside some of my fondest fantasies Sam and firearms are becoming sort of synonymous…lately.

Go figure.

“…hoping I’d get lucky.”

Dream on, you may have found him but that doesn’t mean you get to keep him.

“Looks like I did!” she brightly chirps, after a triumphant glance back towards the curb and the irrefutable proof of her deductive reasoning.

Yeah, gloat away, girlfriend, Jack’s here.  That huge honking truck parked in front of my house is kind of a dead giveaway.

Crap.

“So, where’s the colonel?”  Sam asks, taking advantage of my momentary weakness to shoulder by me and barge blithely into my house.  She keeps on going, straight into my living room, which is noticeably devoid of the colonel in question.

That would be because he’s currently in my bedroom, and I’d better think fast before she deduces that as well.

This isn’t a big house; not a lot of places he could be, process of elimination will take about – oh, a minute or two, tops, especially at the speed at which it looks like she’s intending to proceed searching the place ‘til she turns him up...

Damn!

Think, Daniel, think!

“Um,” I stammer and gesture vaguely towards the back of the house.  “He’s…”

Oh wait, what’s that.  Running water, in the bathroom.  Shower.  Jack’s in the shower.  Well, he would be, he’d have to be, being as how he’s currently kind of…syrupped.

“Shower,” I croak, and force a weak smile.

Shower, Jack’s in my shower.  Oh God, oh God.

 “He’s in the shower?” Sam says, puzzled. 

Sure, why not?  I’m sure there are plenty of logical explanations not involving any sort of secret syrupy sexual assignations as to why Jack would be using my shower on Easter Sunday at ten in the morning when he’s got a perfectly good one at home.

Tons of them.  I just wish I could think of one. 

“Daniel, why is the colonel using your shower?”

Getting rid of the evidence, alas.  Ah, the humanities, all that lovely chocolate going down the drain, wasted, un-tasted.

Disa’s Dark Desire.  Fifteen bucks a quart.  Not including shipping and handling.  Da Vinci Gourmet Amaretto, Banana, Blueberry, another twenty five bucks worth of delectable confection swirling into the sewer without so much as a lick… 

I think I’m gonna cry.

The mere thought of the cruel, criminal, cosmic wrongness of it all is causing me actual, physical pain.

“Um…” I brilliantly reiterate.  She asked me a question.  A question I can’t answer.  Well, I could, because I do know the answer, but it’s not one I can share with her. 

I have to give her an explanation, a reason for why Jack is in my shower in the middle of the morning, one that does not involve chocolate or any other flavour of syrup.

Or why he was in my bedroom in a coated state in the first place.

I’m thinking the truth would be a little hard for her to swallow.

Never…never mind…

“Um, Jack…he…that is…”

I’m stalling for time, waiting for that brilliant inspiration to hit me, and so far I’ve got nothing.

“Daniel, something wrong?” she pauses in her aggressive snooping, her head swiveling around to affix me with a wide-eyed stare crawling with curiosity.  “You feeling okay?”

You know something, looking into those wide, expectant and completely clueless eyes, it’s scarily dawning on me I’m freaking out here for nothing; I gape at her waiting for her answer and so not getting what’s really going on here it’s suddenly painfully obvious I could tell her just about anything and she’d buy it.  The one thing I’m afraid of her finding out, the absolute truth, as far as she’s concerned that’s so far away from any possible realm of possibility it doesn’t even figure in her current universe.

I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.

I’m still desperately questing for the elusive explanation when my deliverance comes in the form of one Air Force colonel newly emerged from his shower, his hair still damp and frankly dripping, obviously hastily toweled off and dressed as quickly as possible.

Thank God.

In fact he was in such a hurry to get out here he hasn’t quite finished the getting dressed part.  He bursts into the room, moist and more than slightly rumpled, his head bent, his fingers frantically buttoning his untucked shirt.

“Thanks for letting me use your shower, Daniel,” he gives forth as he makes his entrance, pretending he’s unaware there’s anyone in the room but me.  “Damned hot water heater picked a fine time to pack it in.”

Oooh!  Nice one, Jack!

“Yeah, that feels a lot better,” he smiles, fastening the last button and finally looking up.

“Carter!” He stops when he sees her, his eyes widening in what anyone who didn’t know differently, namely our unexpected and unwanted ‘guest’, would swear was genuine surprise.

I’ll say one thing for Jack, he’s good.  He probably did a bit of eavesdropping and threat-assessing in the hall before he made his entrance, got that Doctor Dimwit here wasn’t doing so good in the ‘coming up with plausible excuses’ department and immediately whipped up his cover story to cover both our butts.

I’ll have to remember to thank him later.  Once we’ve given Sam the boot and we can safely get back to business. 

“Hi Jack, looks who’s here.  It’s Sam!”  I burble brightly.  Hey, I can play the innocent too!

Eventually.

“So I see,” Jack returns, looking confused.  This time for real. 

“What are you doing here, Carter, I thought you were going to San Diego to visit your brother this weekend.”

“Funny thing, Jack, seems she was just about to leave when the trip got cancelled.  Both her nieces have the flu.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Jack tells her and means it.  Yeah, we’re both incredibly broken up about the kids and all, but what’s even more distressing – she’s here, when she’s supposed to be there!

Jack throws a wordless, worried glance my way before tossing Sam a sickly smile.

Yeah, I hear you Jack.  Her plans for the weekend got cancelled, so that explains why she’s still here, in town, but not why she’s here.

Messing up our plans.

“Okay,” Jack ventures, with all the enthusiasm of a terminal patient asking his doctor how much longer he has to live.  “So you didn’t make it to San Diego, but why are you here?”

“She’s looking for you, Jack.”

Found you too, unfortunately.

So far Sam has been silently observing our verbal sparring without attempting to get in on the game herself, her head swinging back and forth between us like it’s on a pivot.  She fastens on my last comment as her evident cue to finally enter the conversation.

“Well, I’m here because I didn’t have to go away after all,” she pipes up, fixing a bright, expectant look on my colonel.

“Huh?” Jack intelligently observes.

What he said.

“I didn’t have to leave after all,” she prompts him.  “Soooo, we can go.”

What?  What is she talking about?

“What?”  Jack bleats.  His eyes dart rapidly between us; I can smell his fear from here.

What’s going on here – Jack is panicking.  He’s so spooked he’s about three seconds away from diving out my window and running for his life. 

I’m getting a baaaad feeling about this.  He knows a lot more than he’s saying, and what’s more, he knows damned well when I find out what he knows about what Sam is talking about I’m not gonna be turning cartwheels of delight.

Oh, I can’t wait to hear the rest of this!

“You know, the special Easter Sunday Brunch at Emilio’s we were talking about.”

Oh?  Really.  Brunch?  How fascinating.  And bizarre.  Seeing as how I know not only would Jack not brunch if his life depended on it but I doubt the word is even in his vocabulary I can’t imagine why they would be talking about it or where she’s going with this, but I’m definitely all ears.

“When I mentioned it you said we should go, but we couldn’t, obviously, because I was going away, but now I’m not, so we can go after all.  So here I am!” she finishes with a sunny smile.

“Oh yeah,” Jack mumbles weakly, his gaze resolutely fixed on his shoes.  “I did say something…like that…didn’t I?”

Jack, you didn’t!  Oh, you did too, you so did!  Stop staring at your shoes and face me you chickenshit!

Jack O’Neill, you are a dead man.  Deceased, expired, cancelled, deleted, expurgated, late and definitely not lamented…

You, sir, are an ex-colonel.

Flushed with triumph at her victory and utterly oblivious to the sudden murderous tension her comments have evoked Sam steps spritely forward, slipping her arm through Jack’s. Claiming her prize she starts hauling him toward the front hall.

“We should get going then, Sir, if we want to get a good table. We’ll catch you later, Daniel.”

She’s pulled him stunned and unresisting halfway out of the room before he rallies and realizes exactly what’s going on.  He digs his heels in so emphatically he leaves skid marks on my hardwood floor, briefly halting their headlong hurtle for my front door.

“Daniel?” he flings desperately over his shoulder while still doggedly resisting the determined traction on his right arm.  “You’re coming, right?”

Oh no you don’t you – you- bruncher! You’re not dragging me into this.

Sam grits her teeth, tightens her grip and puts her back into it. 

“I’m sure Daniel has lots of things he needs to do,” she grunts, managing through force of sheer will and relentless tugging to shift Jack another millimeter closer to the door.  “Don’t you, Daniel?” she hisses, throwing me a warning glance.  I have no trouble catching the meaning in that baleful blue stare.

Ooookay, I know when I’m not wanted, Sam couldn’t have made it any clearer, as far as she’s concerned this is one party I’m definitely not invited to; she’s set on having Jack all to herself.

Leaving me with no colonel, chocolate covered or otherwise, no hot sex and making my own damn lunch.  Brunch.  Whatever.

Hey!  Wait a minute! Once was bad enough but twice?

I don’t think so!

I know this is nuts, I shouldn’t be getting in the middle of this and oh yeah, I sure will be if I give in to Jack’s huge pleading eyes and tag along, but if I’ll be damned if I’m letting her get away with my colonel again!

“Nope,” I grin, pointedly ignoring Sam’s murderous glare slicing into me as I proceed to deliberately torpedo her hopes of getting away clean with the colonel.  “As a matter of fact, I’m free. I could eat.  Brunch sounds good.”

“Thank you,” Jack mouths at me, literally weak-kneed with gratitude I’ve opted not to do the sane thing and abandon him to Sam’s clutches.  Although we both know damned well I should have!  It’s as much as he deserves for whatever he’s said and done to make Sam believe she had a reasonable expectation of getting to spend more time with him that made her come here looking for him in the first place.

Save it buster, I’m not doing this for you.  This is between me and the pushy blonde who might not know she’s fighting a battle she’s lost before she’s even begun, but that doesn’t change the fact she’s poaching on my preserve, and quite frankly is really starting to piss me off.

You may have run him to the ground, Sam, but you’re not getting away clean with the goods.

Sam is quietly smouldering with frustrated fury and oh my – well, let’s just say I’m not her favourite person at the moment and I will be paying for this at some point in the not-too-distant future, but I’m not gonna worry about that right now.  I’m much too busy enjoying getting a little of my own back, even if I’m the only one who knows it. 

Yeah, don’t say it, it’s been a month after all and I’m well aware it’s petty of me to not let this thing go, and even pettier to enjoy messing up her plans quite so much, it’s not like she knows she did me out of a dinner and a hell of a hot time but –

Dammit, it was my party and I’ll cry if I want to!

“Okay, that’s settled then, we’re all going,” Jack happily announces.

Sam glares at me through narrowed eyes, but she knows she’s lost this round. Jack’s last statement has taken care of that.  If she wants any colonel action at all she has to accept the deal on the table, and it’s a package one.

In order to get the colonel she has to take the archaeologist along for the ride.

“So you’re buying then, Jack?”  I smile serenely at Simmering Sam, who is currently struggling with her game face.  She’s getting there, still not happy about the unexpected co-opting of her imagined cozy two-some into a trio, but she’s obviously decided to be a good sport about it. After all, half a colonel is better than none?

That’s right, suck it up and make the best of it.  It won’t be so bad; we’ll have a nice brunch, some conversation, sure it’ll be fine, we’re all friends, after all, we’ll have a good time, enjoy each other’s company for an hour or two and then…

Jack and I will make our fond farewells and make our way back here and…

Oh yeah, while it’s unfortunately, tragically true pretty much all of the Amaretto, Banana and Blueberry might have gone to waste, all is not lost; there’s still the Black Cherry, Bubblegum and Boysenberry.

And that’s just the ‘B’s.

I’d better leave room for desert.

Sam looks at me again.  She’s smiling like she’s perfectly fine with the new scenario, but there’s this subtle, sneaky gleam in her eyes. 

Really sneaky.

Did I just say something stupid like she’d decided to be a good sport about this?  Recognize she was beat and resign herself to enjoying what she could have as opposed to continuing to go after what she really wanted?

My certainty I’ve come out on top begins to waver as she looks at me again, the triumphant gleam in her eye definitely growing.  She steps in closer to Jack’s side, tightens her grip possessively and bares her teeth at me in a predatory grin and that’s when I know I’ve been suckered.

Dammit – she’s got something up her sleeve and it isn’t Jack’s arm!

“Well, then it’s the three of us,” she says with all the smug certainty of a cat that knows the canary is well and truly in the bag.  “That’s fine, it’ll be fun.  But there’s no reason to bring all three vehicles, tell you what, Daniel, why don’t you meet us there?  Colonel, I’ll hitch a ride with you and I’ll leave my car here, you don’t mind, Daniel if I pick it up…later?”

She pauses significantly before she utters the last word, and the look she gives Jack – and then me - is equally eloquent.

Oh, Sam that was slick. You did it to me again and I didn’t even see it coming.  The new scenario, according to Sam:  you and Jack arrive at the restaurant in his truck, ensuring, I’m sure, to your way of thinking, whatever happens you will be leaving with him as well.  We eat, you make small talk with the third wheel and then you ditch him, finally achieving the original objective of having the colonel all to yourself after all.

Then you’re free to work on the ‘later’ part with absolutely no interference.

Yeah well, you’ve forgotten the third wheel has wheels as well. The colonel with the truck isn’t the only one who can get you back to your car, which, seeing as how it’ll be waiting for you at the curb in front of my house, it would really make more sense for me to be the one to drive you back to it.

Conveniently  colonel-less.  But not for long, he’ll be coming…later.

Once you’re outta here and out of our hair.

Oops, sorry Sam, but you getting back to your car, isn’t going to be as ‘later’ as you think.  You’re smiling now, but I’m gonna get the last laugh.

However, the important thing now is to convince her I’m fine with her plans so she’ll relax and stop worrying about getting the better of me  – and oh, oh yeah, Jack.

I have to calm Jack down before he starts freaking again.  Sam has resumed hauling him toward the door and he’s digging in once more because he’s finally connected the dots and feels the jaws of the trap snap shut.  He gets it.  If things go according to Sam’s plan he’s gonna be spending the day – and possibly a large chunk of the evening – with her.

Or so he thinks.

You know, I should let him go on thinking that.  I should.  I really should.  Might teach him a lesson or two.

Nah…that would be mean.  Fun, but…mean.

I’ll throw him a bone.  Wouldn’t want him to have a stroke before we get to the restaurant.

“Okay, that works for me, let me just grab my coat.  Jack, as long as you’re here, you wanted to borrow – that – “

“Oh yeah!” Jack exclaims, catching my drift.  “I’ll just – get it – Sam?” he turns to her, wrestling his arm out of her clutches, which isn’t easy.  “Why don’t you wait for me by the truck, I’ll be – I’ll just be a sec – “

Her face momentarily clouds; she’s clearly not thrilled with the idea of letting Jack out of her sight even for a second.  She takes a few uncertain steps towards the front door and then stops, turning back and frowning like she’s not entirely convinced I won’t spirit Jack out the back way as soon as her back is turned.

From where I’m standing that’s not exactly completely beyond the realm of possibility.

Jack seals the deal by dropping his keys in her hand.

“You go on, open her up and I’ll be right out,” he reassures her.  She grins happily, nods, then scurries out the door, staring at the keys she's clutching with the same covetous fervor she’d reserve for an engagement ring.

And actually, what he’s just done is almost as binding.  And traumatic.  She had no idea what handing those keys over cost him; nobody touches Jack’s baby but him and me, and I’m pretty iffy at the best of times.  Giving Sam his truck keys was an unbelievably courageous act, a tremendous sacrifice, especially as it means Sam is now out there, in his truck. 

Alone. 

Unsupervised.

Touching stuff…

Breathing on his windows.  Sitting on his upholstery. Messing about with the presets on the radio.  Snooping through his glove box. Checking out his CDs.  Fingering his dashboard.  Playing with his stick shift. God only knows what sort of mayhem, chaos and destruction she could single-handedly wreck in that cab during the - oh – minute or two she’ll be alone in it. 

Come to think of it I’m not exactly crazy about her being in there, sitting in my seat, doing any of that stuff…either.

Although, thinking about…fingering things…oddly enough, it’s making me kinda…hot…

Where was I?  Oh yeah, but desperate times call for desperate measures and we finally got her out of the house.  We don’t have a lot of time here so we'd better get this over and done with before Sam starts changing the oil or something.

I’ll set Jack’s mind at ease about who’s gonna get custody of Sam after he’s picked up the tab, but there’s one or two things I need to clear up first.

“Thanks Daniel, I – Ow!  That hurt!  You hit me!”

“You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you, you dumb fuck.  What the hell is wrong with you, why did you tell Sam you’d take her to brunch, for God’s sake!”

“I never said that!  Last week she cornered me in the commissary and started burbling about the brunch thing on Easter Sunday and what I said was it was a shame she wouldn’t get to go because she was leaving town.”

“Did you really say ‘she’ – or ‘we’?”

“Uhhh...”

“Jaaaack?”

“Well, come to think of it, I might have said…we – OW!  Stop hitting me!”

“Oh, you’re gonna owe me bigtime for this, buster.”

“Yeah, I know, I know and believe me, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh yes, you will.  Though I should have my head examined I’ve got your back as far as Sam is concerned.  When it comes time to go our separate ways, you take off with the truck and I’ll drive her back to her car.  And then of course you can come back over, when the coast is clear.”

“Really?  That’s – thanks Daniel.  I don’t deserve you, yanno.”

“No, you’re absolutely right, you don’t. Well, we’d better get going, and get this over with as soon as possible so we can send Sam on her way and get back to the painting and the licking.”

“Oh yeah, that works.”

“Oh wait – you need – the thing.”

“What?”

“You know, our excuse for this little chat, the thing you were going to borrow.”

“Oh yeah.  So – what?”

“I dunno, grab something, I’ll get a bag.”

“Here.  This oughta do it.”

“A paperweight?”

“Who cares, I’ll just toss it in the back, it’s not like she’s gonna see it or anything.”

“Okay, okay, just – put it in here.  There, we’re good to go.  Don’t forget your coat.”

“Shoes, Daniel.” 

“Oh yeah.  No time for socks.  Where the hell are we going again?”

“I’m – I’m not sure.  Just…follow us okay?”

All right, but for once don’t drive like a fricking maniac.  You lose me and you’re on your own, partner.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave a trail of breadcrumbs if I have to.”

Ten minutes later I’m in my car, following Jack’s truck as it crawls down the quiet Sunday streets and it dawns on me I’m not wearing any underwear.

Oh man, as if the mere thought of brunching wasn’t enough of a nightmare it looks like I’m going to be doing it commando.

Yippee, bring it on!

So, here we are, me, Jack and Sam.  Sunday Brunch with Mr. and Mrs. Springs and all the kiddies, me without my underwear and the main item on the menu is a whole heaping of weird.  Let’s not forget nauseating.

When we first walked in here Jack looked like a man who was being led by the nose to his last meal.  Well, however much he may have initially been doing a fair impression of a condemned man, he’s gotten over it mighty quick.  Apparently.

Now I’m the one who needs to be put out of my misery.  Any time would be good.

Funny thing, for a guy who was previously hyperventilating about the possibility of being stuck with Sam at the end our ménage a trios, ever since he sat down he’s been acting anything but spooked, or like he’s in any particular hurry to get this over with, even.  While he’s not actually, actively encouraging her; that is to say not outright flirting, well, not really, it’s not flirting, what he’s doing but whatever it is, it’s a lot more friendly and familiar than the way he usually is with her…which is…

Disconcerting…

He’s not flirting with her.

Is he?

He’s certainly paying a lot of attention to her, way more than the situation merits.  That third wheel thing, I was joking when I called myself that before, but now it’s not so funny.  For sure Sam could care less I’m here but Jack…

He’s barely looked my way since the food came.  Which was well over an hour ago.  God, what am I saying, going on closer to two and even though we’re working through dessert, slowly, there’s still no end in sight.

The original plan I thought we both agreed to was to get in and get this done and over with as quickly as possible, but the way Sam is carrying on and Jack is letting her we might be here well into the afternoon.  And speaking of Sam, she’s flashed her teeth at Jack so many times I’m surprised he hasn’t been blinded by the glare and I swear, if she giggles one more time…

Oh my God, what the hell is this, now?

“Mmmmmm, that looks really good, Sir,” Sam crams a forkful of cheesecake into her mouth and then heads the empty implement towards Jack’s plate.  “Do you mind if I steal a little taste?”

She’s not – she’s not gonna try – eating – off his plate!  Jack’s plate?  Uh huh, yeah, she is!  He sees it, he knows what’s she’s doing…and…no way!  I don’t believe what I’m seeing – he’s letting her!  Smiling while she scoops a huge forkful of his – what the hell is he eating, anyway, it was something she suggested he order – and pops it in her mouth.

I do not believe what I have just seen.  Jack is even more territorial about his food, then – well, let’s just say he does not share.  When we were having Chinese at his place one night I tried to scoop one of his shrimp  – he nearly broke my fingers.  And yet – and yet – he just – right in front of me too!

Jack won’t let me eat his stinking shrimp, and yet Sam can help herself to his stupid poofy pasty, no problem!

Grrrrrrrrr!!!!!

“Oh wow, that is good,” Sam slurps down the last of her purloined pastry and simpers at Jack.  “I almost wish I’d ordered what you’re having now.  Fair is fair,” she dimples at him, and scoops a forkful of her cheesecake.  Holding her hand under the laden fork she guides it towards Jack’s mouth.

“Open up,” she giggles.

Jack meekly submits to being handfed – in public - with much too much grace and more than a hint of actual satisfaction.

I’m rapidly losing the will to live.

Jack O’Neill has been my friend for more than seven years, my lover for three, he’s closer to me than any person alive, I know him better than anyone, or so I thought and yet, right now – this man sitting next to me wearing his face – I don’t even recognize him.

I know for Sam’s sake we agreed to see this thing through gracefully, act like we’re having a good time, and although she won’t be getting exactly what she wanted at the end at least we’ll have made sure she has a pleasant meal with some friends, one who while he doesn’t love her the way she thinks, nevertheless he does care about her, hell, they both do or they wouldn’t be doing this in the first place, but...

From where I’m sitting Jack is getting a little lost in the part.  This whole ‘he ‘n she’ cutsie-poo routine is way over the top, definitely more than the situation calls for.  I don’t understand why he’s behaving like this, it’s stupid and dangerous; the idea was to let her down easy and make her feel good about herself not feed the flames of her delusion.  Dammit, if this is the way he behaved on the night of that damned dinner no wonder she thinks…what she thinks.   And I can’t believe he’s carrying on like this – with her – right in front of me!  Is he trying to make me jealous?  I never thought Jack could ever be that petty or need that kind of stupid pointless validation from me.  No, that can’t be it, that’s not it, Jack and I are solid, what he’s dong right now, it’s not about making me jealous, it’s got nothing to do with me at all, actually, but he’s also not pretending with Sam, he is enjoying himself and totally digging the attention she’s giving him.

And yeah, he is flirting with her, damn him.

I don’t understand.

Or…wait a minute, wait a minute, maybe I do…

Oh my God, it couldn’t be that!  Could it?

Yeah, it could.  Oh my God.

All right, I get it now.  The big picture.  I know what’s going on; why Jack is acting like such an ass and what this entire romantic farce is really all about.

I just needed to see them – together, for all the pieces to finally fall into place.

As you can well imagine I’ve devoted a fair amount of time to pondering this particular conundrum: what Sam wants from Jack and why he’s been acting the way he has the whole time and not doing the one thing he needs to in order to make everything right. 

Sam’s part has been pretty easy to figure.  What she sees – or thinks she sees in Jack, that is.  It’s got nothing to do with who he actually is as a person, I mean, let’s face it, she barely knows him, nor, to be blunt, does she really care about Jack, the man.

What Sam wants is the colonel. 

Sam isn’t the slightest bit interested in ‘Jack’ – hell, I don’t think she even really likes him, for sure she doesn’t respect him and as far as ‘love’ is concerned, get real, if she actually got him she’d lose interest pretty damned quick.

That is if she didn’t kill him first.

The colonel, however, that’s a different story.  Let’s face it, as long as I’ve known Sam, she’s had some pretty significant power issues.  As in she’s only attracted to men who have it.  And as far as the SGC is concerned, after the general, Colonel O’Neill is the top of the heap.  The leader of the SGC’s first team, the 2IC of the most prestigious command in the Air Force and if all of that didn’t make him a hot enough prospect he could very well have stars in his future – and we’re not talking about the ones in the sky. Colonel O’Neill is everything Sam thinks she wants in prospective husband, stepping stone and status symbol.  He’ll definitely do as her best candidate for the position until she gets a better offer plus, because she’s in his immediate chain of command he comes with the added bonus of being ultimately unavailable and therefore utterly ‘safe’, so while she can have hours and hours of fun immersing herself in the fantasy, playing with the idea of romance, white picket fences and the whole domestic enchilada, unless she’s prepared to make some serious changes in her situation we all know she’ll never follow through with she won’t ever have to face the eventuality of any of it actually becoming a reality and messily complicating hers.

Back in the early days of SG1 things were simpler; Jack was a ‘Daddy” substitute and her ‘admiration’ for the colonel was confined pretty much to hero worship expressing itself in overachieving and a compulsive need for approval/validation from the colonel as her team leader, and I think we’d all be a whole lot happier if that’s the way it had stayed. However, learning civilian versions of herself had become romantically involved with their colonels started her thinking along slightly more dangerous and unfortunate lines and… and ultimately convincing herself getting all gooey-eyed and stupid over her colonel was a good idea too.

Sam may think she’s in love with Jack but the whole thing is nothing more than a self-serving illusion.  She’s in love with the idea of being in love with Jack – or more accurately – what really turns her crank is imagining he’s in love with her.

And speaking of egos, and the behaviour that feeds them…

While Sam has been easy to figure what I’ve never been able to understand, up until now, that is, is why Jack has been dragging his heels about setting her straight.  While he hasn’t been actually actively out and out encouraging her – nevertheless, he has been sort of, not exactly discouraging her either.

He makes out like he’s scared of her, but come on; he has no problem putting her in her place when he has to.  He can handle Sam, and he could tell her the truth and put an end to this whole…thing, no problem, if he really wanted to.

Nor has he been putting off ‘the talk’ because he wants to ‘spare her feelings’.  Leading someone on, encouraging their affection when you do not reciprocate because you claim you don’t want to hurt them with the truth – well that’s just about the meanest thing you could do to a person. Jack’s a better man than that, and he’d never be that intentionally cruel to anyone, especially Sam.

And yet, he hasn’t set her straight.  She’s made it more than clear to him the way she feels, and although he’s never, actually, directly, deliberately said or done anything…overt, to indicate to her he reciprocates, in any way, shape or form nevertheless what he has done, simply by saying nothing, has been enough for her to run dewy-eyed and droolingly amok in the assumptions department.

Leading us, inevitably, to where we are, here, and now.

All he had to do, all he’s ever had to do was to sit her down and say, “Sam, I’m flattered, but I just don’t feel the way you think I feel.”  Or something to that effect.  Something, anything.  But he never has.  Although he’s freely admitted he should, and promised he would – and meant it.

I believe him; that he means to, he intends to, he never truly ever meant for things to go as far as they have, even he can’t explain to himself or me why he hasn’t, and they have.

Well, all these months of fruitless pondering and all it’s taken is a few minutes observing the two of them, actually…together, and the whole thing is suddenly…

Crystal clear.

If we’re talking strictly a mating of mis-guided egos, these two are made for each other.

This is possibly the most absurd thing I’ve ever seen. What I was saying before, about Sam getting her romantic thrills over the idea of the colonel being in love with her – well, guess what I’ve just found out, these particular feelings are mutual.

Jack is just as tickled, and every bit as flattered about the idea of Sam – having a thing for the colonel.

He knows Sam wouldn’t look at Jack twice, but the colonel?  The idea what he is, the power he has, that someone like Sam would want him simply because of those birds on his shoulder… 

He doesn’t actually want her, not in a million years, any more than she really wants him, but the idea, the enormous ego-boo of having her make a fool of herself like this, over him…

He’s totally getting off on it, and all the attention he’s getting from her, the stupid son of a bitch!

Of the pair of them I don’t know who’s the most pathetic, but you know what, I’ve had more than enough of this particular side show.  I stick around for much more, I’ll be losing what little I’ve actually been able to eat of my lunch.  Brunch.  Whatever.

I know none of this is about me, or us, Jack never intended any of this to hurt me, and I don’t think he even consciously realizes why he’s acting this way, but that still doesn’t make any of it right, and I’m not doing any of us any favours by continuing to turn a blind eye to this ludicrous little ego fest and enabling their weird co-dependent…delusions, so guess what, it’s gonna stop today.

One of us has to be an adult here, and as usual, it’s gonna be me.

I think it’s just about time I clued Jack in, and taught him a little lesson in the bargain.

Yeah, that works.

I’ve made up my mind and decided on my course of action, and then Sam gives me the perfect opportunity to set the whole thing in motion.

“Excuse me for a moment Sir,” she says, setting her napkin on the table and starting to get to her feet.  “I just need to – “ she smiles and gestures toward the back of the restaurant.  “I’ll be right back, don’t go away!”

Thank God she didn’t say ‘powder her nose’, I really would have hurled for sure.

Jack watches her walk away and by the time he turns back to me I’m already on my feet, my wallet in my hand.

“Danny?”  Jack’s indulgent smile abruptly fades as he sees what I’m doing.

“Well, I can see when I’m not wanted,” I crisply inform him, throwing a fifty on the table.  “I’ll just leave you kids to it, then.  Don’t worry, this one’s on me.  Enjoy the rest of your meal, and your day,” I tell him coldly, turning on my heel to begin my stately stalk out of the restaurant.  “I’m outta here.”

“Daniel,” Jack pleads, grabbing my wrist.  “You’re – you’re leaving me?  I don’t understand.”

This is hard, so hard, but it’s for his own good, for both of us, I can’t break now, can’t give into those damned dark and soulful eyes, not even when they look at me, like that, so hurt and confused…

I break free of his hold and step away from the table.  That little bit of distance… it’s just what I needed to find the strength to leave him. 

I can do this now.  Heart of stone and eyes to match.  Say it – and get the hell out.

“I know you don’t,” I sternly inform him.  But you’d better figure it out.  I don’t want to hear from you until you do.”

By the time he’s recovered enough to think about running after me, I’m already in my car.  I head immediately for home to pick up a few things I’ll need for part 2 of Jack’s ‘lesson’.

Once I get there I don’t waste any time packing my overnight bag with the requisite supplies.  Although my recent actions have doubtless given Jack plenty of motivation to cut things short with Sam I’m pretty sure I can make my getaway long before they both get here.  Her, to pick up her car and him…

He will look, but he won’t find, that is, not until I’m ready to be found.

Seven minutes, I’ve got everything I need, I’m out the door, in my car, headed out of town, feeling a little bit better, okay a whole lot better, about my decision and my actions.

I’m doing the right thing and you know what else?

I do believe I’m going to enjoy myself doing it.

Well, given the unpleasant turn it took about mid-morning, this day hasn’t turned out so badly after all.  The drive out here was pleasant.  This is a really nice place.  The view is certainly spectacular.  I had a great time poking around in Manitou Springs and the walk there and back was quite invigorating.  Although I didn’t much care for lunch, dinner was excellent. And now here we are, back in the room, which will definitely do. The décor is very tasteful, the bed certainly comfortable, and you know something else, it’s nice to finally have some real quality time to devote to some uninterrupted reading.  I haven’t been able to do that lately, just kick back,  relax, and lose myself in a good book for several hours. It never fails, I just get settled, comfortable, I’m starting to get into the passage I’m reading and then the book goes one way and I go the other, usually pinned down by a flying colonel coming in for a one-point landing.

Yeah, a few hours, all to myself, to just…read.  Nice.  I wouldn’t want it to be this way all the time, but just for today, for a change, it’s been…nice.

Hmmm, let me see, what time is it?  Seven-thirty.  Well what do you think, Daniel, has Jack worked it out yet?  Has he stewed long enough?  Yeah, probably, I think he’s spent sufficient time out in the cold for the evening; I should let him off the hook.

I’ll finish the chapter first.

Okay, all done.  I put the book down and reach for my cell on the nightstand.  I turn it on and am in the middle of setting it back down when it rings.

Woah, that didn’t take long.

“Daniel, where the hell are you?”

“We’ll get to that in a minute.  When and if I feel like telling you.  Have you figured it out yet?”

“I’m – I’m calling you, aren’t I?”

“Okay, I’m waiting.”

“Daniel – I – I guess I screwed up pretty bad, didn’t I?”

“You could say that.”

“I was acting like a bit of an ass.”

“A bit?”

“Okay, a lot.  Daniel, I swear I didn’t mean…you know I don’t...it’s just, she likes me…and it was…when she gets like that -  it made me feel kinda....goofy…”

“You can’t have it both ways, Jack.”

“God, Daniel!  I know that, and there’s no way – I don’t – not her, not even a little bit, not ever, it’s not like that, it didn’t mean anything, ever, you know that, don’t you!”

“Well, I do, but I think it’s just about time you figured it out too.”

“I – I did.  I do.  I just didn’t realize what I was doing until – you walking out on me the way you did, scared the crap out of me.”

“Good, it was supposed to.”

“And then when I couldn’t find you – reach you…  I – I thought.”

“I know what you thought.  You’re lucky it wasn’t the truth.”

“I – I know.  If it had been anyone else but you – seeing me carrying on…like that…with someone else…right in front of you…”

“Shhh, Shhh, Jack, it’s okay, it’s okay, I know you meant no harm but you had to see what you were doing was wrong, before real harm was done.”

“Yeah, you’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I know. So…what happened after I left?”

“I – I told her.”

“What, what did you tell her?”

“I told her us – other than friends – probably not a good idea.”

“Well that sounds…good.  Did you say anything else?”

“Yeah. I still had to explain that whole…dinner thing and the way I’ve been acting.  I said I was sorry about what she thought, about her and me, but I’d changed my mind about getting…involved.  I wasn’t ready.”

“Okay, not so good.”

“What?  Why not?”

“It still leaves the door open.  You didn’t say you’ve never been interested, ever, just not interested now.  It implies if she’s patient she’s still got a chance.”

“When I am ready.  Awww crap.”

“Well, at least you did say something.  It’s a start.”

“So, feel like telling me where you are now?”

The Eagle Motel in Manitou Springs.”

“I know the place.” 

“Room Five.  The syrup bottles and paint brushes are ready and waiting.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“I’ll be naked.”

“I’m already in the truck, don’t start without me.”

No. Never.  Just, come to me my love, and everything will be all right.

Besides, there’s no way in hell Sam will find us here!

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