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Commiseration

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"Come in," Sheppard calls in response to the knock. He just got himself perfectly arranged on the bed, the only comfort he had in this lousy day. No way would he get up for some innocuous social call.

Daniel Jackson leans against the doorframe, also perfectly arranged, one long arm casually stretched above his head, tugging his shirt up just enough to reveal pale skin at his waistline.

"Colonel," he says, a soft, silky tone to his voice that curls around Sheppard's ears and slips down his body.

"Uh, huh?" Sheppard's magazine slides off his stomach and on to the floor. "Daniel. What?" Way to be eloquent, John, he thinks.

Daniel steps in, closing the door behind him. "Hope you don't mind me visiting."

"Right," Sheppard says, sitting up. "I mean, no. I don't . . . mind." It's a little easier to think without Daniel's appendix scar peeking out of his low-slung pants. "What's up?"

Daniel sighs, sitting on the edge of Sheppard's bed, leaning back on his arms and stretching his long neck. "You know about Jack."

Sheppard shuts his eyes, counts to five. It was the exact thing he'd been trying to forget. "Yeah. He and Rodney. . . ." He'd walked in on them making out in the science lab. Rodney followed him for five levels before Sheppard allowed him to explain. The explanation included "unexpected," "fast," and "I didn't mean to hurt you," but all of it was inadequate and it didn't change a damn thing.

"They screwed us both," Daniel says.

"Yeah, I . . . what?"

Daniel turns, spreading himself over Sheppard's bed, propping his head on his hand. "You had to have known that I was with Jack."

"You . . . ? I thought those were just rumors. I mean, people were saying that about you and Mitchell, you and Vala, you and . . ."

Daniel waves his free hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Apparently I get around."

"Huh. I guess that does explain a few things." Sheppard straightens his leg, toes brushing past Daniel's arm with a mumbled apology. "So, you're here to commiserate?"

Daniel smiles, slow and wicked. He cups Sheppard's foot, sliding his hand up the ankle, rubbing the calf, giving the distinct impression that he'd like to slide his hand farther. "I get around." He turns slowly, crawling up the bed to Sheppard, lithe muscles contracting in his arms. "Care to be a conquest?" he breathes against Sheppard's lips.

Sheppard's answer is fingers carded in Daniel's hair, a tongue fitting into Daniel's smart mouth, and two hours Rodney never would have been able to last.