Found Out About You Crap. There’s nothing in the fridge that looks like parts of a meal. I mean really, what can you make out of a tomato, a tub of margarine, three lemons and one egg of dubious age? The bread has green stuff growing on it, and way at the back of the freezer is a container I don’t recognise, let alone know what’s in it. I’m hungry. It’s the perfect end to a perfect day. We were off-world for only ten hours this time, nice little diplomatic mission for Daniel. Everything happened on schedule, then the natives got restless. Daniel did his thing and smoothed it out, but it all went to hell again and we ran home, dodging projectiles the whole way. Sometimes even Daniel can’t push the ‘peaceful explorers looking for allies’ thing, although he certainly tries hard. Not sure who gets more upset when it doesn’t work, him or the Pentagon, drooling for lost weapons. So, we kicked around the base for an hour or two, getting checked out in the infirmary, debriefing, and then filing reports. I finally called it a day and took off, but I forgot to stop for food on the way home. Now I’m standing here glaring into the echoing cavern of my fridge, hungry, tired and ready for the universe to just stop pissing on me. It doesn’t, of course. Typical. Welcome to my life. Aliens who shoot at us, bureaucrats who demand weapons at just about any cost, allies we can’t count on, and oh yes, team members who insist on taking chances with their lives. Good times. And now I gotta think about food instead of just heating something up and falling onto the couch. Not even a game on tonight, and as an added bonus, it looks like my garden has given up the will to live. I grab a bottle of beer—yeah, there’s almost always a beer even if there isn’t fresh milk—and try to decide if I want to order a pizza or wait the extra time for Chinese. Could always get my shoes back on and go to the grocery store, but there’s people out there and no one wants me near innocent civilians right now. Trust me. I’m in a mood that would make my own grandmother want to toss me out of the house. I decide on pizza and pick up the phone, my finger just about to punch in the number when there’s a knock on the door. For a fraction of a second, just long enough to note the stupidity of the thought, I think it’s my pizza being delivered. Knowing it’s not food makes me even more annoyed. I am so not in the mood for company. Whoever it is isn’t going to be invited in, that’s for sure. I head to the door and hear a growl, a nasty sound that I recognise as coming from me only a moment before I get there. Gotta work on that. I pull open the door and kind of lean across the opening, blocking the way. The very last person I want to see is standing there, his jaw tight and his shoulders squared off. Oh yay. One determined civilian, one pissy colonel. What fun. I squeeze my eyes shut and stifle a sigh. “Daniel. Sorry, but this really isn’t a great time. I’m not in the mood for visitors.” Polite but clear. Why the hell didn’t he call first? He’s changed clothes and showered, and he’s looking like he’s ready to make a night of… something. Wouldn’t have killed him to pick up the phone and save himself a trip. Mind you, he was pretty pissed at me when we were on the mountain, probably knew I’d tell him to wait until morning. He’s shaking his head at me, not making a move to try to enter, but not cheerily turning on his heel and leaving, either. “Only take a minute,” he says, then he pushes up his glasses a bit, and looks at the ground before meeting my eye. “I just… I wanted to tell you face to face, then I’ll go. I’ve given General Hammond notice that I’m leaving SG-1.” He looks up at me for a second longer and nods once. “Just thought you should know before you get to work tomorrow.” And then he turns to leave, walking to the car in the drive. It’s a damn good thing I’m leaning on the doorframe. “Daniel.” I don’t yell, but I sure as hell use my command voice. No freaking way does he think he’s going to get away with that kind of announcement and then just walk away. He stops; his back is to me but his head is turned to the side. He’s not looking at me, but I know him—he can see me out of the corner of his eye. I’m rather proud of myself for not saying anything more, not yet. I just tilt my head toward the inside of the house and step back, letting him know that I want his ass inside, right now. And it’s an order. I say a lot about Daniel and his not following orders, always have. Today, even. Hate that he fights me on most things and argues about almost everything else, but even I can’t fault him for following orders under fire. When there’s zats and staff weapons firing at us he moves; does what he’s told and what he needs to do. He does it now, follows along like a little lamb, right into the kitchen. Maybe he knows he’s under attack, maybe he just knows me enough to know that we’re having this out and he’s picking his battle ground. Rather have me go off on him in private than at the mountain—not like I’ve never done that to him before. I don’t really care, so long as he gets in here and explains himself. I’ve drained my beer on the walk from the door, so I yank open the fridge again and grab another. Maybe if I keep my mouth and hands busy I won’t kill him. “Beer?” I ask, holding one out to him. Surprisingly, he nods and snatches it out of my hand, opening it and taking a fairly healthy swallow. I lean on the counter and stare at him. Thing with Daniel is that if you ask a question he answers it, it’s like he can’t not answer. But the trouble is, he keeps going, giving all the information he has and then his theories and then his extrapolations… a simple yes or no question usually gets a yes or no, but there’s no guarantee. So I fake him out, make statements instead and limit things to the yes or no variety when I can’t avoid asking questions. He thinks I don’t care about his answers, that the research and thought is unimportant to me; he’s wrong, it’s just not often that I actually have the time to listen to the full answer. But I do care. This time I’m going for a statement, ‘cause frankly I have no idea what to ask.  I narrow my eyes at him and attempt to look thoughtful rather than murderous. “You’re leaving the SGC.” He shakes his head at me and his lips go tight. He knows I heard him right. “No. I’m leaving SG-1. I can’t leave the project.” And that’s it. He’s standing there, every line of his body tight, but he’s not talking. That tells me two things: he’s got more to say and he knows I don’t want to hear it, and he really doesn’t want to talk about this. I’m going to have to draw it out of him with an open ended question and hope he can’t resist the urge to ramble. “Why?” I drawl. Curious. Not angry. Nope. Just inquiring. Oh, the head tilt now as he considers his answer. “You can get another linguist,” he informs me calmly. “There’s two or three who are far enough along to handle first contact situations. Nyan’s ready actually, although he should have some more field experience first.” Ah. Evasion, a personal favourite. I’m suppressing my natural urges, lucky for him. He gets to live for the moment. Nah, I wouldn’t actually kill him—I spend far too much time saving his butt to wrap my fingers around his throat. But I’m still kinda proud that that my voice isn’t even rising. I’m practising being patient. He better fucking appreciate it later. “Don’t want Nyan, or anyone else, Daniel,” I say. “We need you. You’re smarter, better. You have the experience we need, and the aliens all fall over in love with you as soon as you open your mouth.” True, I swear. Mind you, a few have fallen out of love pretty damn fast, but that’s usually got nothing to do with Daniel. Except for the snakes—pissing them off is a speciality of Daniel’s. Daniel’s looking away from me again, a line deepening between his eyes. “Jack, you’re going to have to get used to having someone else. I’m done.” He sounds so fucking sure that it finally hits me how serious he is. He’s leaving the team, leaving me. He’s willing to walk away from first contact, from fighting on the front line, from everything he’s been about since Catherine got him from that damned lecture. He’s really wanting to go. “No.” “Jack—” “Daniel, you speak Goa’uld and who knows how many other languages, you’re our best anthropologist, even without that particular PhD. You’ve been with us since the first mission. You have more experience—fuck, you’ve got as much off-world experience as me, more than Carter. No one else can do what you do, and nothing you tell me will make it okay for you to turn your back on the team.” Okay, little louder now, and to tell the truth I seem to be letting that patience thing go. I’m clinging to the edge of the counter with one hand so I don’t grab him and shake him. Daniel puts his beer on the counter beside him, his eyes narrowing. “I need a break. I’m tired of getting shot at, I’m sick of looking for tech, I’m fed up with meeting people and damaging them. I’m not a soldier, Jack, and I’m tired of acting like one.” Okay, that I can sort of buy; hell, I’m tired of getting shot at, too. “So take a leave. Go do a dig with SG-11 or something. Rest up.” He laughs, a harsh, brittle sound that I’ve hear before. Okay, that’s never good—Daniel’s close to losing it, and I’m thinking there’s something going on here that I’m not really seeing. “A break?” he says cuttingly. “A rest, Jack? And then what? Back to SG-1 and doing half my job? Back to getting ignored, being pushed for results with no time to come up with them? Back to constantly fighting people I should be getting to know and learning from?” Ah crap. Back to that. “Look, I’m sorry we can’t take our time the way you want—” “Bullshit!” Daniel starts to pace through my kitchen, his hands waving as his voice gets louder. Guess he’s not so good at the patience thing either. “I don’t care that I don’t get a week to spend looking at glyphs or learning about cultures.” He stops when he sees my face and glares at me. “Well, much. Yeah, I’d like that, but I get why we can’t. It’s the rest of it, Jack. I can’t do my job right, and worse, you’re doing my job for me. I can’t, and won’t, work that way.” I stare at him. “What the hell are you talking about?” “The Enkarans and the Gadameer, Jack. You didn’t even let me try then, and I had to do my job behind your back. The K’Tau, when I did my job and you came along right behind and undid it. You had no right to tell those people the Asgard aren’t gods. You interfered with their belief system. Today, Jack. Today.” Today. Great, I’d almost forgotten today’s fuck up. “That wasn’t my fault,” I say defensively. It wasn’t, not really. Fucking tribe was up to no good and I was seeing weapons a little too close at hand. And I was right—they were a little upset when they tried to take us hostage and me and Carter were ready for them. Teal’c almost smiled when the Chief had to back off. The only one who was caught unawares this time was Daniel, unfortunately. Think it hurt his pride that they’d lied to him well enough that he didn’t feel the undercurrents. Personally? I’d just been thinking that it was great he was finally letting me do my job. Guess we all got fooled. “It wasn’t mine!” he yells at me. “I was talking. I was learning. We were getting somewhere, even if you were hovering right behind me with your fucking gun practically aimed at the chief.” “I was doing my job!” I yell back. “They were armed, Daniel. They were hostile. It’s my job to get you all back in one piece.” “And it’s my job to talk to people, a job I can’t do when you’re menacing the population!” We square off, looking at each other across the kitchen, both of us breathing harder. I can see Daniel’s hand clenching and unclenching as he tries to calm down. I take a deep breath and then a swallow from my beer. I step carefully away from the counter and close my eyes for a second, regaining a bit of control. “Okay,” I say, a bit more quietly. “Obviously there are things we have to talk about. But you don’t just quit the team, Daniel. We talk this shit out, and we go back to work.” Daniel’s shaking his head, looking almost sad with his eyes on the floor again. Maybe not sad… he looks tired. “I can’t, Jack.” Oh, fuck this. “You actually want a desk job?” I demand. “You want to just do translations, play with artefacts we bring back? Come on, Daniel, I know you. You want to see, you want to meet these people and talk to them. You know how important what we do is.” He nods. “I do know. That’s why I can’t leave the project, why I don’t want to. It’s my life.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I’ll join another team. SG-5, or 11. Maybe SG-2, if they’ll have me. They don’t do as much first contact, but they get shot at less.” No way. Un uhn. No fucking way does he think he’s going through the ‘gate without me watching his back. “Not a chance,” I say flatly. “Why not?” Oh oh. Pissy archaeologist again. “I won’t back a transfer to another team, especially a combat unit like SG-2.” Outraged eyes meet mine. “How the fuck dare you?” “How dare you? I won’t have you going into situations without me, Danny. No way. You attract trouble like no one else, and I won’t… I can’t… Jesus, Daniel. How many times have you been zatted? Ribboned? Shot? Died? I can’t lose you again—I have to be—” “My protector? I’m not a child, damn it! I can take care of myself, if you haven’t being paying attention for the last couple of years.” Damn. He’s not really a macho prick, not like me, but he is a man. “That’s not what I meant. Shit, Daniel. I have to be there, don’t you see? I don’t trust anyone but me, Teal’c and Carter to make sure you stay alive in combat. Hell, you stay here on Earth and you still wind up getting ribboned, and that was with Carter there.” I wince. “And I should have been.” Daniel’s just staring at me, not moving anymore. “Yeah, you should have been,” he whispers. Then he shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter, Jack. I put in my notice, and I’m leaving the team. I’m sorry it was like this.” He turns to go, heading for the door. “What did Hammond say?” I call out. I can’t see the general just signing off on this. No way, not without trying to change Daniel’s mind first. Daniel freezes. “Um.” “Daniel?” He turns slowly and looks faintly chagrined. “I haven’t actually talked to him yet. I’ll see him in the morning.” “You said you’d put in your notice.” “I did. Written. In his inbox, and I have an eight thirty appointment.” He’s quiet now, his shoulders rounded. “Don’t leave the team, Daniel,” I say quietly. Seriously. Not begging. “I have to, Jack.” His voice cracks, and I can see his mouth twitch, his lips pursing and then drawing back. He closes his eyes for a second and I push. “Why?” I ask again. “I can’t work with you anymore.” And maybe, just maybe, we can get to the real truth here after all. “Why?” I repeat, stepping closer. “Are you that angry? Do you hate me?” His head snaps up. “No.” “Tell me what I have to do.” I move closer, see his head shake. See his hands shake. “Daniel? We can talk about this.” “Actually, no, we can’t.” He straightens up and starts to walk away again, reaching for the door knob. I’ve had just about enough of him walking away from me. I grab his shoulder and pull hard, spinning him around so I can get in his face. “Tell me,” I growl. “I can’t.” He tries to pull away. I don’t let go, my fingers digging into his shoulder, shifting my weight so I can pin him to the door if it comes to that. “Tell me why you’re leaving,” I demand. “I love you,” he says, then he gets so white I’m scared he’s going to pass out. Okay, didn’t expect that. “No, you don’t.” “Yes, I do.” “No, you don’t.” “Yes, I do.” “No, you—” “Fuck, you’re a bastard, Jack O’Neill, and no matter how often you prove it to me, I’m still stuck like this and I can’t take it anymore.” He’s glaring at me, his eyes meeting mine dead on. I can’t move, can’t say anything. “It hurts too much,” he says, a little quieter. “I’ve been through too much to do this to myself. So I’m done. I’m leaving SG-1, Jack, and now you know why.” He shakes off my hands and steps to the side, his colour high now that the blood has rushed back to his face. I can’t stop him moving, my hands, my arms… everything has stopped working and I’m pretty sure I look like an idiot, just standing there as he opens the door. “I’m sorry,” he offers, stepping across the threshold. Then he kind of rests his head against the door frame. “I’ve had nightmares about this,” he says to the wood. “It’s like the one where I show up in the gate room naked.” God help me, I almost laugh, but this is so not funny. “How long?” I manage to ask, my voice more a croak than anything else. It’s hot in here, and I can’t seem to breathe right. Daniel stands up again and faces the driveway, not looking at me. He’s stopped walking, at least. “Too long. It doesn’t matter,” he says at last. “Matters to me. How long, Daniel?” He takes a deep breath, I can see his shoulders lift with it. “Not sure. I mean, there’s not a defining moment. I just… realised it one day. Dealt with it. Hid it. But now it’s affecting the way I do my job, and I can’t anymore.” I think about that for a moment, or try to. Everything is scattered and thoughts are running around too fast for me to latch onto. I try, but the only thing that’s coming to me is that he didn’t talk to me about this sooner. “How long?” I ask for the third time. It’s stupid and I know it, but it seems important to me. Daniel takes a step away from me and I can see the car keys in his hand. “A year. Longer.” And then he walks down the path and goes. ~*~*~ I didn’t sleep much last night, but who would? I mean, that was life changing information. The kind of information that doesn’t go away even when you drink most of a six pack and whatever was left in the bottle of whisky. The kind that makes you forget about the pizza until after eleven. The kind that makes you send a late night e-mail to your CO requesting an 0800 meeting and the wilful ignorance of his own inbox until after you get your say in. Yeah, I suck. Going around Daniel this way isn’t going to make him real happy, but the way I see it, he’s not too happy anyway. This will at least buy me a few minutes of supervised time, and maybe a hell of a lot more, depending on the general. Who am I kidding? Daniel is George’s boy; if Danny is unhappy, George wants it fixed. Okay, so I didn’t tell the general exactly why Daniel is unhappy—I’m really not an idiot—but I have managed to make it clear that I’m willing to talk to Daniel, that I want to fix what’s going on. George listens well. I think it’s partly him being a general, partly him just being George. He’s sitting there behind his desk, his hands still, and he’s looking at me. Watching. Judging the truth of what I’ve told him. “If Dr. Jackson really wants to leave SG-1 I’m not about to force him to stay,” George tells me. He looks serious, as stern as I’ve ever seen him, but behind it all is concern and hope that his flagship team can be mended and made whole again. “I know, sir,” I say politely. “All I’m asking is a bit of time to talk to him. He sprang this on me—on us both—and I want to make sure he’s not just needing a long vacation.” I can feel my pants catching fire. I wonder if there’s a special hell for men who lie to their superiors as often as I do. Did. Whatever. “He’ll get it, if that’s what he needs,” George says firmly. He’s such a softy for specific civilians. I’m about to reply, but his intercom buzzes and he picks up the receiver. “Send him in,” he says to his secretary. I stand up and lean against the wall, my hands in my pockets. Casual Colonel. It’s my look. I keep up the pose as Daniel comes in; I’m trying to look as calm as I can when my heart is pounding in my chest, waiting for the explosion. Daniel has a temper, don’t let anyone say otherwise. Marines have been known to flee like cowards in the face of Dr. Jackson on a rant. Okay, not often, but it’s happened. He’s wearing civvies. Jeans, a blue sweater with the sleeves pushed up, and hiking boots. Going for the psychological push I guess, already distancing himself from us, and he looks like he’s had as little sleep as I have. Not that anyone who hasn’t worked with him for the last few years would notice; he’s awake and dressed and his eyes aren’t dull, just a little tight at the corners. He looks like this when he’s been up most of the night working. I doubt if he got a lot of translating done since I saw him last. He freezes when he sees me, and then glances at George. “Jack,” he says carefully. “Daniel.” “Um, I was hoping to talk to the general alone,” he offers, looking to George with eyes that aren’t quite pleading. “Yeah, sorry about that,” I say, not sorry in the least. I push off from the wall and stand up straight. “I’ve requested forty-eight hours downtime for the team.” Daniel looks at me, one eyebrow up. “That’s nice,” he says slowly. “But I don’t see what that has to do with me.” He waves a hand almost absently at George. “I’m here to tell the general that I’m leaving the team.” George thinks we’ve gone far enough, apparently. He’s moving, sitting straighter behind his desk. “Dr. Jackson, I’ve read your letter, and I’ve heard from Colonel O’Neill. I’ve granted this downtime on the condition that he use the two days in order to discuss the situation further with you, to see if we can’t solve this… personality conflict and get SG-1 back on track.” Daniel is speechless. In fact, I’m not sure he’s even breathing. He’s standing in front of the desk, staring at George with a look of pure shock on his face, his mouth open and his eyes wide. Suddenly he turns to me and his eyes narrow. “Personality conflict?” he asks coldly. “Issue?” I offer hopefully. Daniel snorts at me, utterly disgusted. “General, I doubt if discussing—” “Daniel,” I interrupt. I do that a lot. “You’ve known there was something to talk about for over a year. I found out twelve hours ago. Give me two days, that’s all. If we can’t come to some sort of agreement, the general has agreed to….” I run out of steam and can’t really remember what George said. “Revisit the matter,” I finish triumphantly. Daniel looks deeply suspicious. Smart man. “I don’t think that discussing this particular matter can lead to anything…satisfactory,” he says carefully. “In fact, General, I think this is a mistake.” George looks sympathetic. “I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable for you, Doctor, but Colonel O’Neill is right; you only told him there was a problem last night. Now, I won’t ask about specifics, at least not at this stage. Frankly, I have no wish to invade anyone’s privacy.” He gives Daniel a long look and then he looks at me, just as intently. “I would hope, however, that communication within SG-1 would be a priority for you both. Dr. Jackson? I would consider it a personal favour if you would at least hear what Colonel O’Neill has to say.” Daniel doesn’t say anything for a moment, but I can see him relenting. He’s nothing if not fair to a fault, and that instinct to hear all sides of something will…ah, yeah, there he goes, biting his lip and looking resigned. “Two days,” he says quietly. George nods. “Thank you. Colonel?” I nod back and gesture to the door. “Daniel?” He walks out of the general’s office and keeps on going toward the elevators. He’s not running, but he’s sure as hell not welcoming me by his side. I dodge an SF and almost reach for Daniel’s arm, but I’m thinking that touching him right now will earn me a dirty look and possibly a lot more than that, so I just say, “Not on base.” He stops dead and looks at me, and I can see the pain in his eyes. “Right. Not on base. Can’t have that.” I try not to wince. “Look, Daniel—” He shakes his head and sighs. “Just tell me where. My place?” He’s got to be kidding. His entire place is breakable. Not a chance. Plus, if it all goes to hell I’d rather not have him living in the place where the final battle was waged. “Mine,” I say. “I have to do some stuff here, tell Carter and Teal’c we’re on stand down. I’ll get some groceries, something to drink. Come over around lunch time?” He nods. “See you in a few hours.” He gets a couple of steps away before I stop him. “Daniel.” “What now?” he asks, eyes rolling and looking fed up. “Bring an overnight bag. I think this could get late.” ~*~*~ I feel kind of sick. Not like I’m coming down with something, but more like I do just before I head out on a mission involving the Tokra. Sort of gut clenched with a side of dread. Carter was a little put out with the downtime I think, but she rallied quick enough and headed off to see if Siler was available to help tinker with her bike. Teal’c said something about going to see Rya’c, but he stopped me long enough to say that whatever problem Daniel was having should be dealt with quickly; I wonder if he knows what’s going on or if he just knows Daniel is upset? I’m making roast beef sandwiches for lunch. Not fancy, granted, but easy and there won’t be a lot of dishes to worry about. Got stuff for supper too, but I can’t seem to really concentrate on planning what exactly to make. I don’t know how I made it through the grocery store, I just did it, coming out with bags of food that were full of shit I don’t remember getting. There’s carrots in there, for crying out loud. I’m slicing tomatoes when Daniel knocks on the door. He waits for me to open the door for him, which seems a little… I don’t know. Not good. But about what I expected. “Hey,” I say, pulling the door open. “Hello, Jack.” He steps in and to the side, staying away from me. He’s dressed the same, and he’s empty handed, no bag. Guess he thinks this won’t take long. I don’t say anything, just raise an eyebrow and get one back, so I turn and head into the kitchen. “Sandwiches okay?” “Yeah, fine,” he says, then clears his throat. “Listen, Jack. I really don’t see the point to this. I know you want me to stay on the team and I appreciate that, but—” “Daniel—” I turn to face him, but he holds up a hand. “Just listen, please.” He looks torn, his eyes worried and sad, so I nod and let him go. “I don’t know what you think will change my mind, but if it’s… ‘we’ll pretend I never said it’, or promises that we can try to mend our working relationship, I’m not interested.” He waves his hand at me almost apologetically. “I can’t do this anymore, Jack, and I can’t pretend that I didn’t say it. I know that you know, and I… I just can’t see going back into the field with you.” I’m already shaking my head and he’s starting to look pissed off at me. I take a step backwards into the kitchen and start cutting up the last of the tomatoes. “That’s not what this is about,” I tell him. “It’s not?” He sounds surprised, and a little confused. “Well, not entirely,” I qualify. “I’m sure we’ll get around to talking about you staying or going. But first we have the bigger issue to talk about.” I keep my eyes on the knife and the tomatoes, not really sure if I want to look at him. Not to mention it would be a really bad time to lose a finger. “The bigger issue,” Daniel says slowly. “Yeah. The reason you want to leave. I think we should talk about that.” “Why?” God, the man can drawl a word out and make it a whole paragraph. I look up at him and say, “’Cause I didn’t get any sleep last night and it’s important.” Daniel tilts his head. “You want to talk. About that. And… what? Share our feelings?” he asks, incredulous. “Somehow I don’t see it.” I roll my eyes. Yeah, I really wanted to spend two days spilling my guts. But sometimes… “Think we have to, Daniel,” I say as sincerely as I can, which is pretty damn sincere. I mean it, we have to do this. He looks at me for a long moment and then turns and walks slowly into the living room. I can see him looking out the window, his hands stuffed in his pockets. I leave him to make up his mind, and start building sandwiches. I know what he’s doing—weighing what he thinks and knows against what he’s hoped for. And I know he’s trying to figure out the price of talking, how much pain he’s going to wind up in when it’s all over. He’s deciding if things will be worse if he tells me everything, if he can stand to hear what I have to say. But mostly he’s trying his damnedest not to hope anymore. I spread mayo and wait. I have the sandwiches on plates and beer out of the fridge before he comes back. I thrust a plate to him, down the counter, and take my own to the table. “Eat.” He looks at the plate and then back at me. “If I stay,” he says, then he pushes his fingers through his hair and takes a breath. “If I stay, I’m trusting you not to be cruel, Jack.” I nod. “I know.” “I don’t want to hear any of this thrown back at me when you get pissed off. If you do that I can guarantee that I’ll be off the mountain, out of the project, and gone from everyone’s lives immediately. Leaving you to tell the general and the JCS and the Pentagon why.” I nod. I know it. I wouldn’t do that to him. It hurts a bit that he felt the need to spell it out, but I guess I don’t blame him. Daniel waits for a moment, then picks up his plate. “Okay.” Something in my gut loosens, and something else tightens. He’ll stay, and that scares the crap out of me. We eat in silence for a few minutes, then Daniel gets up to get a glass of water. “So, how do we do this?” he asks, walking slowly back to the table. “Because, to be honest, I have no idea what to say.” I grin at him, which results in him taking an immediate step backward. That’s not really the vote of confidence I was looking for, but I’ve had worse odds in my time. At least he’s still in the house. He’s looking at me with suspicion, the same look he gets when he knows I’ve got a plan that he can’t quite see yet. All those years of experience I have in tactics and planning come in handy when I’m in the middle of a situation like this. The thing with Daniel, the thing that’s impossible to forget, is that he never stops thinking, never stops going over things in his mind. He’s smart, brilliant; but only rarely does he think like a regular, uncommunicative Joe. Like me, in other words. He might be reluctant to spill his guts, but so am I. I’m also determined that we do just that. “We take turns,” I say, kicking the grin down to a comforting smile. “One soul-bearing, ego-crushing, unmanly display of Oprah-like disclosure exchanged for another.” His brows go up and his butt goes down on the chair. He so didn’t see that coming. “Um. Okay. You’re serious?” “Yep.” I take a bite of my sandwich, watch him turn the idea over in his head for a bit while he eats his lunch. Finally he shakes his head and swallows, reaching for his glass of water. “You’re nuts.” I nod and grin again. It occurs to me that he might think I’m enjoying this, when really I’m just having trouble keeping my lunch down. Forget the Tokra, I can’t remember being this nervous, ever. “So where do we start?” he asks, picking up the last of his sandwich. I shrug. “At the beginning.” “Which would be…?” Ah. That, I’m not too sure about. I mean, I’m not going to just leap in and ask him why he loves me, or when he found out, or why he didn’t tell me. At least, not yet. Nor am I about to start a monologue about everything I thought last night. There’s such a thing as too much information, and beginning at that beginning might permanently damage us both. I chew and think and finish my sandwich, and watch him doing the same thing. “You’re bi?” I blurt. Where the hell did that come from? Daniel doesn’t even choke, just glares at me. “Apparently.” “Apparently?” What the hell does that mean? Either he is, or his isn’t. I mean, it’s not like I can be the only guy he’s… oh. Oh fuck. “Apparently,” he repeats. He finishes his sandwich and leans back in his chair. “Come on, Jack. You knew Sha’re. You saw the photos of Sarah.” “You like women.” “I like beautiful women. And you. So, apparently I’m bi.” “You’ve never…?” I wave a hand in the air, hoping to hell that he can get some sort of meaning from it. I have no idea what I mean. He waves a hand back at me. “There was a…thing at school, but it hardly counts. Your turn.” “Whoa. Not yet. No way is it my turn yet.” Can’t be my turn, I wanna hear about the thing. Daniel narrows his eyes at me. “Your turn, Jack. I know you’re straight. Have you ever so much as looked at another man in a way that wasn’t classically heterosexual?” Easy one, and the hardest one. Bastard’s being paying attention to tactics; he’s so sure that he hasn’t got a hope in hell of being with me that he’s reinforcing that out loud for us both to hear. So I tell him the utter truth. “Not before last night.” He stares at me. I stare back. “I should have brought a bag. This is going to take some time.” ~*~*~ Daniel’s flat on his back on the living room floor, staring at the ceiling with a drinking glass balanced on his stomach. The glass used to be half full of Southern Comfort, but he took care of that pretty fast. I’m stretched out on the couch, my head near his feet so I can see his face, and my contribution to the empty glass collection is two beer bottles. He’s not said much since we finished lunch; I think he’s stuck in re-evaluation mode. I should probably stop that before he gets so far ahead of me that he thinks up all the variables and comes up with a list of reasons why we shouldn’t even be talking about this. Another list, I mean—I know all the reasons that existed an hour ago. Military, yadda, pain, yadda, working together, yadda yadda. Secrets. But it doesn’t matter anymore, because as soon as he said he was leaving the team I knew I had to get to the bottom of why; Daniel’s my friend, and that’s that. So we talk, even if it’s like this—with booze and ceiling staring. I can’t think of a question. I want to ask ‘why me?’ but neither of us could stomach a list of reasons why he loves me. I want to ask ‘when did it start?’, but I don’t know if I could take knowing the exact moment I failed to notice what was going on in Daniel’s head. He’s already said there isn’t a defining moment, but I know there was a big ass drunken night in there when he figured it out. And, oddly considering why we’re here, I don’t want to pry. So I finish off the second beer and hang onto the bottle, looking at Daniel’s face as he stares at the ceiling. “Talk to me,” I say quietly, because there’s nothing else I can say. “Wanna hear a story?” Daniel offers. “Sure.” Daniel closes his eyes and starts to play with the glass, rolling it between his hands and picking it up with his palms before dropping it back down on his belly. I think he might need a refill, but I’m not gonna offer. We’ve had no sleep and little food; getting plastered right after lunch probably isn’t a great idea. “Once upon a time,” Daniel says mockingly, “there was a little boy who lost... everything.” I wince. Daniel opens his eyes and looks at the ceiling again. “On second thought, let’s skip that story. We both know how it goes, and it’s not as funny as I thought it was.” He sounds a little surprised at that, which points to the weirdness that is Daniel Jackson. There are some things about him I’ll never get. He sits up and sighs. “We’re really going to do this talking thing?” “I want to,” I reply, trying not to look like it’s actually causing me physical pain to admit it. “Do you?” “Strangely, the thought of sitting here telling you all about my inner emotions doesn’t fill me with joy,” he says. “But I… I’m willing to try?” He tilts his head at me. I’m not sure if he knows he made it a question. Then he stands up and walks toward the window, looking out at my front yard. “You know what? I really have had nightmares about this.” He turns around to face me, gripping the glass in one hand like it’s a brick. “You finding out and hating me, or me telling you and you just walking away. The worst was the one where we were in a briefing, with everyone there. Senators, Major Davis, Jacob… hell, Thor was there. The general passed me a piece of paper and asked me if I could read it. I couldn’t, because dreaming is a right brain activity and reading is left. But I knew what it said, over and over and over, and everyone was looking at me, waiting. I tried to make something up, and people started yelling for me to just say what it was, to tell the truth.” “What did you do?” He shrugs. “I said it. Just like I did yesterday. Everyone got quiet and then they started to laugh. You got up and left, didn’t even look at me. I’d ruined your reputation.” I want to tell him it was just a nightmare, but he knows that. Hell, we both know about nightmares, and I won’t insult him by being patronising. I swing my legs over the side of the couch and sit up. “Still here. Not laughing.” Daniel smiles at me, just a quick one, but I see it. “Yeah. Imagine that.” I smile back for a second. “I’m not a complete bastard, you know,” I say, trying to… what? Make a joke? Lighten the mood? Christ, I don’t even know, I just want to keep him talking. “No. No, you’re not,” Daniel says quietly. He sits next to me on the couch and stares at his glass. “I spend a lot of my time wishing you were. Waiting for you to do something… you. And every time you get condescending or on your high horse I go home and wait for it to go away, think ‘okay, this time I can stop.’. But it doesn’t, and then you do something even more you, like save someone’s life, or the planet, or me, and it just…” he trails off and looks at me. “I didn’t know,” I say softly. He nods. “I know. That was the point. To be fair, I didn’t know either, for a long time.” “How’d you figure it out?” I lift my beer bottle, but it’s still empty. Daniel shrugs and settles back on the couch, leaning into the corner. “I was working on a translation at home one night and I couldn’t concentrate. It was really late and I finally gave up, decided to go to bed. I turned everything off and made sure the door was locked, and I found myself picking up the phone to call you.” I raise an eyebrow. “And? So?” “It was almost three in the morning, Jack. I was calling to say good night. That was all.” I blink. Okay, not a normal thing for us, but I’m not really seeing how he made the leap. Daniel’s holding up his glass, peering at his fingerprints. “I figured I was tired. Forgot about it. But within a few days I noticed… things.” “Things.” “What you ate, what you said, what you looked like when you laughed, what time you headed to the mess hall for lunch so I could be there. I had a crush. Can I have another drink?” I take his glass and head to the kitchen, grab myself another two beer bottles. When I come back Daniel takes the glass from me, and he twists his hand so he doesn’t touch my fingers. “Okay, a crush,” I say. “Um. Don’t flip at the term, but I’ve had hero worship before—” He nods, and takes a fairly large swallow of bourbon. “Yeah, me too. This was… different.” “Okay.” “I’m a scientist, Jack, so I considered the problem fairly thoroughly. Well, after a huge attack of drunken denial liberally mixed with machismo heterosexual panic.” I snicker. I don’t mean to, but given my own panic attack last night I sympathise. Not that I’m totally past the panic… but I’m thinking the rewards might be worth it. Daniel flushes a little, but I’m not sure if it’s not the booze. “I did a comparison test in my head. How I feel about Sam, about Teal’c, and even Cassie. Janet. A few people from my past. Figured out that I love a lot of people. That all those stupid clichés about romantic love are a load of shit. That you’re my best friend.” Best friend is good. Hell, best friend is a fucking honour. “That’s good,” I say. “That’s… important.” Daniel tilts his head in acknowledgement and drinks some more. “Yeah. It is.” He’s silent for a long moment, long enough that I think the conversation has stalled out and I’m either going to have to come up with another question or worse start spilling my own guts. I’m so not ready for that. Getting there, but not quite ready for that level of exposure. My respect for him is growing exponentially. But he takes a deep breath and says, “And then I figured it out. To the point where even I couldn’t deny it to myself anymore.” He shoots me a look. “After that it was just… suppress and work and try not to let it get in the way of the team or my job.” He skipped a step. “And how did you reach your final conclusion, Dr. Jackson?” I ask, draining my third beer of the afternoon. Man, am I gonna have a headache. Daniel looks at me like I’m insane. “When you got together with Sara, did you just know, or were you friends first?” I shrug. “Friends introduced us, we hung out for a while. Started dating, and then got more serious.” “And how did you know that she was more than just a girl you wanted to hang out with?” he asks slowly, still looking at me like he’s explaining simple math. Stupid question. I smirk. “I got hard every time I looked at… oh.” Oh fuck. Again. Have I said that? Daniel salutes me with his glass and drains it. “Exactly. That.” He reaches out carefully and rests his glass on the floor. “I think that nicely completes my turn with the soul-bearing, ego-crushing, unmanly display of Oprah-like disclosure.” He crosses his arms and looks at me expectantly. “Oh boy.” I feel a little shaky. I pick up his glass and stand up. “Want another drink?” “Do I need one?” “I think I need you to have one.” I go to the kitchen and pour him another couple of fingers. I know I’m stalling, but I can’t really help it. I’ve never been one for talking about how I feel—just ask Sara, she’ll agree. But I know I have to do this, and I want to; it’s just hard. And I really have to stop thinking about the word ‘hard’; it’s making things… difficult. Yeah, that’s a better word. Safer, at the moment. So I make sure Daniel’s got a drink and I’ve still got a beer ready, and I sit down and try to keep myself from staring at the floor. Daniel deserves for me to look him in the eye. His face is blank, his control so absolutely tight I can’t read him at all. Doesn’t matter, really, the level of control tells me everything I need to know. He’s spent months trying to keep me from knowing and now he’s sitting in my house, looking at me after he’s been more or less forced to tell me his secrets. I know how I’d feel—how I do feel. He’s waiting for rejection, still fighting hope, and knowing that he’s given me all the ammunition I need to make his life utter hell if I wanted to. I can understand why he wants off the team—I can’t really imagine what it’s been like for him the last year. I can, however, imagine the hell he’d be in if he’s forced to work with me now that I do know. Without some sort of knowledge of what’s going on in my head it would impossible, intolerable. I take a deep breath. “After you left last night I… well, I kinda stood in the kitchen for a while. I was… surprised.” I think we’re both aware of the understatement there. Right, moving on. “I kept trying to… to see it. And the more I though about it the madder I got.” “That’s a surprise,” Daniel says.  I think he meant to say it under his breath, but he’s had a bit to drink. I shake my head. It’s important that he understand this, all of it. “I wasn’t angry with you, Daniel.” He gives me a look of disbelief and I amend the statement. “Okay, at first I was. I started out mad that you didn’t tell me. But it was more… I was hurt that you didn’t tell me, ‘cause I thought you trusted me. Trusted me not to freak out—which was exactly what I was doing, I know. And then I started realising all the reasons you didn’t tell me.” Daniel’s looking a little interested now, curious. Encouraged by the loss of the blank face, I go on. “Besides thinking I’d freak, you wanted to protect. Me, my career, the team, yourself. I could see part of your side. But I was still angry, more at myself for not noticing than anything else. I’m supposed to know you, Danny.  I’m supposed to be paying attention to my team, to my friends. It made me furious that I could miss something major going on with you.” “I—” “Hid it well, I know.” I sigh and take another swallow from my beer. It’s getting warm, but I don’t want to go get another. I just want to get through this. “So, I ordered my pizza and tried to calm down. I kept going over and over the last year, trying to see, but I couldn’t, still can’t, not really. But I did figure out something else.” “What’s that?” Daniel asks, studying his glass again before taking a drink. “That I felt—feel—like you shut me out. It made me ache. You’re supposed to let me in, that’s just the way it is. You’ve become… a part of me.” Daniel raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. Christ, I suck at this. Time to change tactics. “I made myself look at why I was hurt and angry and it came down to confusion and trust. I was hurt ‘cause you didn’t trust me to tell me, and angry ‘cause I had to think about it when you did tell me. Which led to confusion about what I feel.” “How… concise and clear,” Daniel snipes. I roll my eyes. “I’m trying here, Daniel.” He sighs. “I know. Sorry.” We sit in silence for a moment and I suddenly realise my gut is clenched tight. Can’t go back, too hard to go forward. Then I look at him, really see him. Tired, stressed, and to be perfectly blunt about it, dying inside. I steel myself and plough on, not able to see him like this when maybe I can fix it. “I drank, had that attack of macho bullshit, you know? I am man, see me kill stuff and blow stuff up. Ate pizza out of the box, drank, told myself that hearing you say you love me was just a thing we’d get through. That worked until I remembered you were leaving the team and we might not work through it. So I sent General Hammond an e-mail asking he talk to me first.” Daniel nods I think, but I can’t really look at him anymore, I’m just trying to get this out, let him know. I’m fumbling, I know, but God, it really is the best I can do. He deserves better. “I didn’t want you to leave, and no matter how hard I tried to convince myself it was because of the team and the job, it didn’t fly. Couldn’t even lie to myself about that. So I told myself it was ‘cause you’re my friend, and I wanted you close. That it was about protecting you off-world. I can’t stand the thought of you out there without me, you know that? We’ve lost you so many times, it destroys me to think of you getting hurt and me not right there to do my best to bring you back.” “I’ve always come back,” he says softly. “I don’t want to take the risk. You’re too important.” “I’m… okay, what I do is important, I know that. And I know I’m not a soldier, but I can shoot now, and I hold my own. I’m not helpless.” “I know. I know you’re not. I just… Christ, Daniel. I just can’t lose you, you know?” He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but he’s got a distant look in his eyes. Not the intense look he has when he’s translating or working on getting to know a new language, this is more troubled, like he’s trying to find a piece of information he’s not sure he has. “I’m not sure I do know,” he says finally. I wish I was a linguist, or at the very least better with words. I open my mouth, but nothing’s coming out, and he’s withdrawing again. Damn it. I want to tell him what I was feeling, but I think I’ll have to settle with just talking about what I did. Like a mission report. “I decided I had to consider the possibility that either I love you, or I could love you.” Daniel’s eyes go wide, almost impossibly so, and then he makes a visible effort to control his reaction. He looks away and I see his throat work as he swallows. “Um. Wow. I... I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have expected that of you.” “Yeah, well. I’m a surprising guy.” “Apparently.” Hell, he doesn’t know the half of it. It wasn’t so much a conscious choice as not being able to avoid it. Once I got past the initial rush of panic it was stuck in my mind, like an LP with a needle stuck in a scratch. Daniel loves me, over and over, and it was driving me nuts. But what really got to me, made me think, was the fact that I sort of liked the idea. Sure, my ego is a little healthier than the next guy’s, but this was like something else. It wasn’t ‘a man wants me’—it was Daniel. And Daniel’s a part of me. I take another breath and he’s watching me now, intensely. His eyes are sharp, surprisingly so given the exhaustion and the booze, and he’s leaning forward a little, holding himself still. “I think you didn’t realise it was happening because it feels different,” I say softly, looking him in the eye. “I thought about Sara, about what it felt like when I fell in love with her. Thought about Carter too, just so you know I’m busting the hell out of this soul-bearing thing.” He doesn’t look surprised. I suspect that Carter and I fooled no one; but then, it never went anywhere and I’m reasonably sure everyone knows that, too. “When I fell in love with Sara I thought about her all the time, smiled a lot… was sappy and disgustingly mushy, if you have to know. With Carter it wasn’t like that, but I didn’t love her the same way. Hell, I still think she’s amazing—brilliant and attractive and a hell of a soldier. But I wouldn’t have given up my career for her, and she wouldn’t for me. With her it was a low down ache in my belly, with Sara I was free to pursue… it was just different all around.” Daniel nods. “With Sarah it was passion and talking about theories. Which became fighting about theories. We had a… volatile relationship. But she was so beautiful and the physical attraction was expected.” He shakes his head. “I mean, as a heterosexual man I was prepared for it. I didn’t look for my attraction to you until I couldn’t deny it.” He flushes again and looks away. “Falling in love with Sha’re was easy, she was so vibrant and intense and… and good.” “Different can be good,” I say tentatively. Daniel shoots me a confused look, the apparent non sequitur throwing him for a moment. I know the second he starts to understand, hope blooming in his face for a brief flash before the mask of calm control descends. His heart is ready to shatter; he’s so fucking scared and I don’t blame him at all. This has gone on far too long. “Love you, Daniel. Didn’t see it, didn’t know it, probably would never have gotten it on my own. But I do.” His eyes fill. “Don’t do this to me, Jack.” I’m shaking. Not much, but as I reach out a hand to touch his cheek, to cup his face, I can see the tremble. “Not trying to hurt you, I swear,” I say in a rush. “I’m not… not lying. I wouldn’t. Couldn’t.” “But…” He stops, blinking away the tears before they can fall. He’s not moving at all, letting me touch him. “I’m an idiot,” I tell him. “I didn’t see it. But it’s true.” “I want it to be, but I can’t let myself go there. One night can’t make that happen.” “You figured it out in one night, or close to it. I’m not as smart as you, I know, but I can do it, too. I looked, I fought with myself—hell, I even did the scientific investigation.” And can we please go there now, ‘cause if I don’t hold him soon I think I might die. He nuzzles my hand and then pulls away, taking a deep breath. “Like what?” he asks, his voice not quite steady. I can feel my cheeks heating up. “I had that macho attack, right? Then I entertained the notion that I could possibly be in love with you. Which lead to thinking about the difference between love for a friend and love for a lover.” Daniel raises an eyebrow and blinks some more. “And?” he asks slowly. I think if he wasn’t so tired, halfway to drunk and emotionally strung out he might just possibly be laughing his ass off at me. “I had a rather strong attack of heterosexual panic. Which will be reflected in my Pay Per View bill.” This time he does laugh. “What did you watch?” “Fake lesbians.” “Good choice. Lots of breasts.” “Yeah. Reaffirmed that women still do it for me.” “You knew that,” he reminds me. “Yeah, well. Never hurts to make sure.” “You use that line often?” “Do you?” I shoot back at him. “Only when I’m in mid panic.” I nod wisely. “That I understand.” I shift on the couch. I want to stop talking about this, want to get to the showing, but I don’t know how. Also have no clue what I actually want, aside from taking that scared look out of his eyes. And kissing. Lots of kissing. Daniel looks worried. “Jack?” “Daniel?” “You look… like I should be running away now.” “Do you want to run?” Daniel shakes his head no. “Yes. I mean... um. Shit. Okay, it’s like this. I haven’t slept in almost two days, that sandwich was the first thing I’ve eaten since yesterday afternoon, and I’ve had about three doubles. I’m not… really steady.” I move closer and bring my hand up to his jaw again. “Want to sleep? Talk about this more later?” He moves into my hand and blinks slowly. “Yeah, I think that would be smart. This is huge.” I rub my thumb along his jaw, wrap my fingers around the back of his head. “Yeah.” Then I pull him to me and kiss him, as gently as I can, just brush our lips together. The world didn’t stop, but it might have lurched. The bottom fell out of my gut and I was about to back away so we could clear our heads, but Daniel… well, Daniel’s been wanting to do this for a hell of a lot longer than me. He kisses me again and moves forward, a hand on my shoulder as his tongue parts my lips and the next thing I know my brain is melting out my ears and all my blood has slammed south so fast I get dizzy. Fuck, he can kiss. By the time we’re done we’re both gasping for air and my dick is so hard I’m pretty sure I’ll be taking my nap on the couch ‘cause I’m sure as shit not walking anywhere soon. “Too much?” Daniel pants at me, his eyes big and dark, and oh hell, he’s really hard too, pressed against my thigh, and when did we get so close? “No.” I shake my head, realise I have my arms tight around him and I can smell his soap, can tell he doesn’t use aftershave. I think I already knew that. “Not too much. But if you want to talk more we gotta be in separate rooms right now or I’m gonna go off like the Fourth of July.” Daniel goes red and… Jesus, he looks shy, for Christ’s sake. “Really?” he asks, looking at me through his eyelashes. I roll my eyes and grab for one of his hands, put it where he can’t deny the evidence. “Really.” He gasps, goes slightly redder and says, “Sweet.” He’s stealing my lines. And he’s—oh man, he’s really making sure, isn’t he? I groan and grab his wrist. “Danny, I swear to God, I actually want to talk about sex, and you and me, and how it’ll all work, but if you do that again I won’t be willing to let you walk out of this room so we can get some sleep.” Daniel, for some reason, seems to think that I’m being unbearably nice. He’s got this sappy look I never want to see on his face in mixed company—anyone other than us—and he’s looking at me through his lashes again. “You want to be a gentleman?” “Yes,” I say, still gripping his wrist. “As opposed to getting off right now?” “Yes?” Okay, that wasn’t as forceful as the first answer. It’s not an easy choice. Daniel beams at me. An honest to fuck smile that reaches his eyes. “Can I take the guest room?” I nod and he springs away from me. “Going now.” Then he bends over, his hands on the back of the couch, one on either side of my head. His kiss is fast and light, but it’s a kiss and he’s happy, and I can still see that he’s hard and I’m just trying to keep it together until he leaves. I don’t watch him leave, ‘cause I think his ass might just undo me. “There’s tissues in the bedside table,” I holler. I hear him trip. ~*~*~ When I wake up it’s dark outside and I can smell coffee. I remember waking up to piss and making my way to bed; thank God for that, or my back would be giving me hell. As it is, I’m in dire need of water or this headache will become more than it should be. I roll off the bed and think about grabbing a shower, but getting water and brushing my teeth are the more pressing needs. I sort of expect to see Daniel when I get to the kitchen but when I get here I can hear water running in the bathroom; he’s in the shower. I grab a bottle of water and down it fast, then drink a second one, more slowly. I’m standing here looking at the coffee maker and thinking of all the reasons I shouldn’t just wander into the bathroom. Daniel probably wouldn’t like that. Plus, I’m still sort of in a panic about my sudden longing to see Daniel’s skin. That particular panic is topped only by the panic caused by my sudden need to touch said skin. So, going in there right now would be very bad for everyone involved. I might say something stupid. That happens sometimes. But on the other hand, Daniel fresh out of the shower, wrapped in a towel. But on the first hand, panic and Daniel probably wouldn’t like that. Or maybe he would? Nah. Talking first. Then Daniel in a towel. Yeah, I’m a… okay, not so much a patient guy. Damn, this isn’t easy. I’m halfway to the bathroom when he comes out. “Hey, Jack,” he says carefully, looking a little uncomfortable. He’s fully dressed, damn it. Next time I’ll move faster. I seem to be getting a grip on that panic thing. “Hey. Sleep okay?” He nods. “Yeah, thanks. Um. I used your toothbrush.” Ew. “No problem.” Ew. “Coffee is almost done, thanks for that. There’s water in the fridge.” I brush past him on my way into the bathroom and catch his wrist as he heads down the hall. “Hey.” He stops and we’re shoulder to shoulder. “Hey?” I lean over and kiss his mouth, fast and gentle. “Yeah. Hey.” He has the most amazing smile. I don’t even mind so much that he used my toothbrush. Although… “We’ll get you your own toothbrush,” I say with a wink. His eyes slide away from mine. “Sure. Gonna get some water.” I let him go and don’t waste time in the bathroom. We really gotta talk more. I hope that once this stuff is all ironed out we can do less of this talking shit—I’m beginning to feel like Barbara Walters. I brush my teeth—ew—and think I really need a cup of coffee. I have a feeling I’m going to need to be awake for all the reassuring and planning I’ve got to do. Not to mention convincing Daniel to stay on the team, but to be honest that’s kinda taking a backseat right now. And now I have backseats in mind, and drive in movies and making out. God, it’s a wonder my brain didn’t revolt years ago for how stupid I’ve been. I follow the smell of the coffee into the kitchen, surprised once again that Daniel’s not here. I pour us each a mug and go looking, find him back in the spare room, making up the bed. “Coffee,” I say, walking in and putting his mug on the bedside table before I sit on the bed. “Thanks,” he says softly. Then he picks it up and sits down next to me. Okay, so I’m taking that as a sign I haven’t completely screwed up. He might be unsure of everything, but he trusts me enough to stay. “What’s… uh, what’s next?” he asks, turning his head to look at me. I shrug and kiss him again, just like in the hall. He flashes me a grin. “Thought we were supposed to talk more. About that.” I grin back, feeling a little light in my belly. Weird feeling. “Yeah, we can talk about that,” I say easily. “Tell me about the thing.” Daniel looks at me blankly. “The thing?” “The thing.” He does that head tilt thing and licks his lip. “Going to need a bit more than that, Jack.” He sounds faintly amused, and I’m not sure whether I should be annoyed that he doesn’t know what I’m talking about or annoyed that I’m only faintly amusing. I roll my eyes and look sternly at him. “The thing at school that hardly counts.” “Oh!” His eyes go wide and then he looks away, smiling. “You want to hear about that?” “I asked, didn’t I?” Jesus, Daniel, don’t play games. I don’t know if my blood pressure can take it, given the erratic directions my blood keeps going in. He twists around and leans against the headboard, giving me a speculative look. “How come?” I sigh. “Daniel. Try to stay with me here. The sum total of my…” I search for the word—God, is there a word? “…experience with men, as you well know, is five kisses and you feeling me up on the couch. Of course I wanna hear about the thing!” “You’re counting kisses?” he says, looking at me like I might be treading the thin ice that separates ‘sweet’ from ‘sap’. Then he frowns. “I didn’t feel you up,” he protests. “Fondled,” I correct magnanimously. “Caressed,” he says with a scowl. God, he’s adorable. If I ever say that out loud I won’t have to worry about living it down, he’ll kill me. “Groped,” I say with barely restrained glee. He rolls his eyes. “What do you want to know?” What you did, how many times, what it felt like. And when can we do it? “How old were you?” I ask, scooting up on the bed so I can sit next to him. Daniel thinks about that for a moment and sips his coffee. “Twenty. No, twenty-one. I remember having the usual discussion about the stupidity of the age limit for drinking versus voting, the draft, all that stuff.” He looks at me and sighs. “I don’t suppose I can get you to promise not to laugh?” I look at him, probably with ‘clueless’ written on my forehead. “About what?” He looks at the far wall and his cheeks colour. “It was… sort of an experiment.” Well, duh. That’s what it’s called. I’m doing that now, although the result is a foregone conclusion. And then it hits me. “You mean with charts and variables and measured results?” I try very hard not to laugh. Very hard. “Of course not,” he snaps. Then the colour deepens. “Well, not that formal.” I can’t help it. He glares at me until I stop laughing and kindly doesn’t hit me. “Okay, tell me,” I say when I can manage it. Daniel sighs again. “All right. I had this friend—not real close, but more than an acquaintance. We were at a party one night, pretty drunk, and he told me that he thought he might be bi, but he wasn’t sure. Lack of clinical data.” “Scientists.” I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing again. “God, tell me you didn’t just offer to—” “Of course not!” Daniel interrupts. He drinks more coffee and puts the mug on the nightstand. “Anyway, I listened and sympathised and that was that. A couple of weeks later I ran into him at an end of term thing, and we were both sober—I had new allergy medicine, and he was… well, not drinking. Ever notice how a room full of drunk people is only fun if you’re one of them?” I nod. Oh yeah, been to enough formal dinners where I had to be sober. Let me tell you, nothing worse than seeing a junior officer face down in the punch bowl. “We left as soon as we could get away, got something to eat at a restaurant just off campus. We talked a bit and I asked him how things were going. He said he was too scared to approach anyone he’d never met, and there wasn’t anyone he was really interested in; he was just wondering.” “And then you offered.” I know he did, I just know it. “Um. More or less.” I knew it. “It was more complicated than that, but yeah. We went back to my place and, um, tried a few things.” “What things?” I ask before I can stop myself. And then I have to go and follow that up with, “And the results were?” Daniel gives me a half smile, but his eyes are dancing. “Inconclusive for me. As for him, I don’t think he ever dated another woman. Last I heard he was living with a botanist named David.” I grin and can’t resist pushing it. “You turned him! Completely! God, what did you do to the man?” “Oh shut up,” Daniel says with a grin. He’s blushing like he’s never gonna stop, but he’s smiling. He takes my coffee mug and puts it out of harm’s way, then slides down the bed to lie on his side, facing me, his head propped up on his hand. Looks comfortable, so I meet him there, laying on my side too. We’re not touching, but we’re damn close. He bites his lip and just looks at me, a little more serious.  “You really want to know what we did?” I nod.  Oh yeah. I want to know. Daniel closes his eyes for a second, but whether he’s remembering or trying to find the willingness to kiss and tell, I don’t know.  “Um, it was weird at first. We had no idea what we were doing, how to start.  I don’t know about him, but I’d never gone into a situation like that—just deciding to have sex with someone and then doing it.  And I’d never been with anyone outside of a relationship.” I have, but I don’t think he needs to know that.  I make an encouraging sound. “We, um, we kissed for a long time.”  He gives me a fairly direct look.  “I like kissing.” “You should, you’re damn good at it.”  Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have said that, based on five kisses, but he smiles at me and I figure it’s okay. “We figured that if the kissing went well we could move on,” Daniel says.  “Not much point in going further if the kissing left either of us cold.” I raise an eyebrow and look at his mouth.  “It worked?”  He’s got a wonderful mouth. “Oh yeah.  Relaxed both of us, got past the weirdness.”  He’s looking at my mouth too and I want to kiss him.  “Got us… hard. So we moved on.” “What did you do?” I ask.  God, I might be a bit of a perv, the way my voice sounds.  I swallow hard, try to sound a little more normal.  My skin feels kind of tingly, and the little colonel is taking a definite interest. He shifts on the bed, moves his legs and winds up a little closer to me.  He’s still looking at my mouth.  “Blow jobs,” he says, and his voice is odd, too.  “First him doing me, then I sucked him.” Oh, there goes my blood pressure again. “Did you like that?” Daniel snorts.  “Was the first time anyone’d gone down on me, of course I liked it.” My ears are ringing and I have to swallow again, then banish a few mental images from my brain.  “Uh, that’s good.  But I meant giving.”   Daniel’s blush is back, but not as strong. “Oh.  Um, it was… it made my jaw ache, and I doubt I was very good at it, but yeah.  I liked it.” I think I moan.  Can’t really tell ‘cause my blood is kinda roaring in my ears, even though most of it is below my waist.  The images are here to stay, I think, and I can’t stop thinking about Daniel’s mouth around me, or the way he’d feel under my tongue, what he’d taste like. The panic seems to be gone. “Oh God,” I say, kinda weakly, and then I’m leaning over the space between us and we’re kissing.  Frantic, deep kisses, with lots of tongue and sounds and Daniel’s kissing me back, his sounds a little deeper than mine.  I move, and he moves, and the next thing I know the space between us is gone and he’s got an arm around me and I’m holding onto his hip. And we’re still kissing.  I’m holding myself still, not completely ready to move past this, just wanting to sink into the heat and taste of him.  He’s got his eyes closed, and he doesn’t object when I take his glasses off and try to get them on the bedside table. I’m not sure if they made it there, all I know is that he’s just a little closer to me, lips parting under mine again and again, holding me tight. I could kiss him like this for hours, I think.  Who knew that stubble was so fucking sexy?  Or the taste of coffee?  Only problem is that we have to breathe and in Daniel’s case it appears to be a fairly pressing need as he pulls back panting.  Okay, I’m breathing a little heavy, too. “We should slow down,” he says in this unbelievably husky voice.  While he’s untucking my shirt. “Uh huh,” I agree, may hand sliding from his hip to his ass.  “More talking.” “Yeah, talk.”  And then his hand on the small of my back, heavy and hot, and he’s kissing me again, one leg suddenly between mine and then we’re rocking into each other.  His hand is moving, pulling my shirt free and sliding over my back, and I can’t seem to get close enough to him, even though I’m mostly on top of him. Okay, time to back off a bit.  Really.  And not only because I need to breathe.  “So then what?” I ask.  My hands aren’t listening to my brain and his sweater is being pushed up.  Christ, he feels good. Daniel kisses me again and then he pushes me hard and we roll over so he’s straddling me.  He tears his mouth from mine and grins.  “Two guys.  What do you think we did?” he asks as he unbuttons my shirt. It’s hard to think, thank God it’s an easy question.  “Took a nap?” “Uh huh.”  He grins at me again and then his head is buried in my neck as he kisses and licks at my pulse points. God, I love the way he thinks.   More kissing, a little shifting, and we manage to get rid of my shirt and his sweater without injury.  He’s still sitting on my thighs, occasionally moving up to my hips until the grind and pressure get too intense and we have to back off again.  We’re both panting and moaning now and I just want him so bad.  He’s strong, his skin is so warm and smooth and he smells so good, like soap and coffee and Daniel.  I can’t keep my hands off him. He leans down, pretty much laying on top of me, and whispers, “We can take this slow.” “Yeah,” I say, but we both know that it’s a done deal.  We’re guys.  We’re horny and almost naked and really turned on.  Not much chance of stopping; only thing left to figure out is how we’re going to get to where we’re going. He licks my neck again.  “Want to know what we did when we woke up?” I shudder and run my hands over his ass, pull him tight to me.  I guess I like talking about sex when I’m having sex.  Learning a lot today.  “Yeah.” He moves again, off me, and I might possibly whimper, but it’s okay ‘cause his hands drop to my fly and he’s undoing my jeans.  Oh yeah, Danny.  Please. “It was his experiment, he wanted to know what everything felt like.  Full spectrum of experience.” Uh huh.  I’d say something, but my zipper is going down and Daniel’s fingers are pushing both jeans and shorts off my hips.  I lift up, wiggle a bit and start kicking them down, and he’s looking me in the eye with the most filthy grin I’ve ever seen on his face.   “So I fucked him.” “Oh Christ, Daniel,” I gasp, arching up as he wraps his hand around my cock and starts jerking me off.  He’s pressed up against me, looking down at my dick in his hand, and all I can do is thrust into his fist and clutch at the sheets.  He holds me tight, isn’t scared to stroke me harder; his wrist twists and the palm of his hand slides over the head of my cock and I almost hit the roof. Daniel’s panting in my ear, watching his hand move over me, his hips rocking into my thigh.  “Was so tight, Jack.  Hot and smooth, and so unbelievably tight.  Slick with lube and sweat and so good—” My eyes roll back.  Daniel likes to talk about sex while having sex, too.  Who knew he was such a potty mouth?  God, I love this man. His fingers tighten, go faster, and I can feel myself getting close, feel my back tighten and arch, that ache in my balls turning to a throb. “And then I let him fuck me.” That does it. “Ah shit, now, Danny, God, now!”  My eyes close tight and my hips lift off the bed as I come, hips jerking as his sticky hand slides over me, keeps touching me.   I’m gasping and shaking, can hardly see, but Daniel’s kissing me again, and I hold onto him, my tongue down his throat.  He’s moaning and moving and I can feel his hard prick pushing at me through denim.  As soon as I can move I’m going to see what I can do about that. Kissing isn’t really calming me down, and it’s sure as hell not relaxing Daniel.  I force my fingers to work and fight with his fly, finally rolling him over onto his back and I head down.  He whimpers.  “Jack?” “Shh.  Just let me…”  I kiss his chest, skim my hands over his body.  God, he’s gorgeous. Daniel makes another noise, sounds a little desperate.  I figure I can take my time later, look my fill and learn the way the skin over his ribs feels, and the way he moves when I lick his nipples.  Right now, I’m just wasting time.  I lean up and get his jeans open, slide back on the bed and tug them off. Jesus.  Good thing I just came or I’d be shooting all over him. I lick his hip bone, lost in the feel of smooth, hot skin, stunned at the way he smells.  Raw and male and so much more intense.  I can hear him gasping, feel his fingers slide over my hair. “You don’t have to do this,” he says hoarsely. I look up at him.  “Want to.  Want you.”  I shrug one shoulder and lick his belly button.  “Doubt I’m very good at it, but we’ll see.”  Then I wink and focus. Oh God.  Not a good time for fucking performance anxiety.  Jesus.  Okay, this can’t be that hard.  And honestly?  I’m thinking that even if it’s the worst blow job in history Daniel’s gonna cut me some slack.  Plus, we can practice. His dick is so hard it’s curved up to his belly.  I lick him with the flat of my tongue, all the way up and then around the head.  Daniel starts swearing.  Cool.  I’d smile, but my mouth is busy.  I don’t know how close he is, but I’m thinking this is going to be pretty fast the way he’s trying to keep still and the way his hand keeps landing on my head then my shoulder. So I lick him all over.  Taste the come leaking from the tip, slide down and lick his balls, and then back up.  Daniel’s legs are shaking, and I don’t want to hold off any longer, even if my jaw does start to ache.  He groans my name when I open my mouth and suck him in. Daniel is not a little guy. He feels amazing.  Hot and slick and so fucking smooth on my tongue, filling my mouth and I swear I can feel him get even harder.  I take him in and move my tongue against him, then suck hard as I pull back. Daniel’s hands land on my head and I can feel him vibrating.  It makes me moan. “Oh Jesus Christ, Jack, don’t stop, just—oh God, don’t stop!” Like I’m going to stop when I get that kind of reaction?  Back down, lick, suck.  It’s really not that hard.  Well, Daniel is, but I’m getting off track.  So I keep going down on him, and just for the hell of it I slide my hand from his hip to his balls and tease them. Daniel really likes that.   I’m not trying to get fancy, I swear to God, but I want to know and I want to know now, and my hand is already there.  His prick is deep in my mouth, slick and hot and so fucking hard, and when I explore a bit, slide a wet finger over his hole, he screams, his hands tight on my head. So I do it again and he shouts my name and starts to come.  My own dick twitches as he fills my mouth, but there is just no way, not tonight.  Doesn’t matter.  What matters is that Daniel is saying my name, almost curled around my head and I’m licking him clean. I look up at him and grin.  Yeah, I’m fucking proud of myself. “You just—”  Daniel looks stunned.  And well fucked, but mostly wide eyed and stunned.  “You.” “Me.”  I crawl up and pull him to me. I’m sticky and messy and smell like sex and sweat, but he comes into my arms and kisses me anyway.  “This is real, Daniel.” He looks at me with those wide eyes and nods slowly.  “Okay.” Kissing Daniel is my new mission in life.  I think I’ll see if he wants to kiss in the shower. ~*~*~ Daniel’s as sticky and messy as I am, thanks to the afterglow kissing and cuddling, so we hop in the shower as soon as we can move on steady legs.  Cleaning off is a quick procedure, but the second round of soaping leads to lingering touches and long kisses.  Things are going really well until he’s on his knees, kissing my belly with water streaming around us.  One minute I’m on my way to a new refractory time record, the next we can hear deep rumbling sounds.  It seems our stomachs have decided that the sandwiches we ate  God only knows how long ago aren’t enough to keep us going. It’s a lost cause, really.  I haul him up, kiss him again, and then we’re out of there, reaching for towels. I find him a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, throw on another set, and we head to the kitchen. “What time is it?” Daniel asks, putting his glasses on as he comes out of the spare room. I’m heading into the fridge so I point in the general direction of the clock while I get the eggs and cheese. “Huh.  Only ten thirty,” he says.  “I thought it was later.” I shrug.  I thought it was later too, but our internal clocks are so screwed up right now I’m not really surprised.  “You going to be able to sleep through the night?” I ask, pulling out an onion and going back to the fridge for mushrooms. “Yeah, I think so.  What are you making?” “Omelettes.  If we’re going back to sleep I don’t want anything really heavy.  I promise I’ll make a decent breakfast.” That earns me a smile, quickly followed by that filthy grin I might learn to be afraid of.  “That’d be good.  I might even let you sleep eventually,” he says. A comment like that begs for a response, so I carefully put everything on the counter, cross the kitchen to him and pin him to the wall, hands over his head.  And then I try to see just how far into his mouth I can get my tongue.  I back away when my stomach reminds me that there’s food to cook.  Daniel looks nicely dazed; I smirk.  It’s a good look on him. I make the omelettes, he makes the toast, and we stand at the counter to eat, too busy shovelling it in to talk.  He has juice, I drink more water, and it’s not quite ten to eleven when we’re done.  Only about three minutes of that was actual eating. I fill the sink with water and wash the dishes up real fast, set the coffee maker up for the morning.  I’ll be awake at 0630 at the latest, but I figure Daniel won’t be, so I set the timer for eight and hope for the best.  When I turn around Daniel’s sitting at the table looking thoughtful. That’s not good. A thinking Daniel is a dangerous thing. “What’s up?” I ask, drying my hands. He blinks at me, bringing his mind back to the here and now.  “Oh. I was just thinking about Sam and Teal’c, what we should tell them.” A warning light goes off in my head.  “We can’t tell them anything.” Daniel looks at me, his mouth heading right into a frown.  “We have to tell them something, Jack.  They know something’s wrong and we have to tell them it’s fixed.” I pull out a chair and sit opposite of him.  “So we tell them we talked and got things sorted out.  But we can’t tell them about us.” Daniel sighs.  “I don’t want to lie to them.” “I don’t either,” I say, and I hope he knows it’s the truth.  “But we have to, for Carter’s sake.  She’s got to have plausible deniability.  Teal’c, not so much—I mean, he can’t be court marshalled or anything, but we can’t really tell him and not tell Carter.” Daniel licks his lower lip and shifts on his chair, looking very unhappy about the truth of the matter.  “Well, at least it won’t be so hard since we won’t be on the same team.”   Oh boy.  Here we go.  But before I can say anything Daniel meets my eye and gives me a slow, sad smile.  “I’m not going to see you much, am I?” “You’ll see me lots,” I say, trying to look persuasive and not commanding.  I think if I try to be The Colonel right now Daniel will get more stubborn than usual.  I lean back in my chair and rest my hand casually on the table.  Just sitting in my kitchen, talking to a friend.  “Stay on the team.”  Okay, it sounds like an order, but I really tried to make it sound like a suggestion. His eyes couldn’t get more disbelieving.  He tips his head back and rakes a hand through his hair.  “Can we stop and just count the regulations you’d be breaking, Jack?” I shrug, then lean forward.  He’s right, this is serious shit, but I mean it.  And not just so I can watch his six.  “Listen to me, Daniel.  You know as well as I do that SG-1 needs you.  You translate on the fly, both written and spoken text.  No one can do it as well as you.  You know the myths, can figure out what we’re getting into before we’re knee deep in shit, and you give us what we need to get out again when we get sucked in.  You know we need you on a first contact team, and you know it’s got to be SG-1.  If you’re at a desk or on another team you’re not in the best possible position for the SGC.  And that means Earth.” Daniel’s looking at the wall behind me, his jaw clenched tight.  He knows I’m right.  I settle back again, let him run it through his mind.  He’ll think and weigh, and then he’ll come back to the team and everything will move forward. Except he’s looking at me now and his eyes are cold, the blank mask is back in place.  Shit.  What did I do?  Damn, damn, damn.  “Danny?” “If you’re suggesting that I stay on SG-1 and we wait until you retire to… attempt a relationship—” What?  “Back the truck up, Daniel.  I didn’t say that.  I’m not crazy—I know that every time we go through the gate could be the last, and there’s no way in hell that I’m prepared to hold off on a shot at being happy.” “Regulations,” he counters.  “The Air Force is your life, I know that.  You could get a dishonourable discharge, court marshalled, years in prison.  And that’s just for sleeping with me.  I have no idea what they do to people for fraternisation.” I do, but I’m not going to tell him. Daniel waves a hand at me.  “You and Sam wouldn’t take the chance for each other—” “You’re not Carter,” I say softly, and it brings him to a halt in mid rant.  If it wasn’t so serious I’d make  note to throw him a compliment the next time he’s killing me with descriptions of some social construct. His eyes are soft as we stare at each other across the table.  “What do we do, Jack?” I stand up and go around to him and take his hand. “We go back to work.  We keep a secret.  We be more discreet than is humanly possible.  But right now, we go to bed.” He stands up but doesn’t move with me toward my bedroom.  “Jack.” I turn around and wait. “Can you promise me that you’ll let me do my job?  I can’t really see you calming down any in the field.” Damn, again.  I sigh.  “I can try.” Daniel nods sharply.  “One mission.  If we can’t separate us from the team I’m going to put in for a transfer.” “Which team?” Daniel tilts his head.  “We’ll just have to see.” Christ.  General Hammond is going to love this.  “Come to bed, Danny.” Daniel follows along and there’s remarkably little weirdness about getting undressed and into bed.  The sheets are cool on my skin, but Daniel is nice and warm.  Neither of us is used to sharing a bed, and we’re both used to being the spooner rather than the spoonee, so we compromise.  I can do that.  Our legs tangle together and we kiss for a bit, then Daniel falls asleep in my arms. I watch him for a long time, wondering about all the other things I’ll find out about him. home / feedback