Where the Drifts Get Deeper
Where the Drifts Get Deeper
Date Archived: 08/13/03
Characters/Pairings: Col. Jack O'Neill, Dr. Daniel Jackson Jack/Daniel
Permission to archive:
Warnings: Hot man-lovin'. No graphic sex, but thoughts of it and general talk of it. Some cursing.
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate SG-1. Don't own Daniel or Jack. If I did, they'd be doing this. SG-1 belongs to.MGM, Sci-fi, Double Secret, etc.No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Daniel and Jack have both made their resolutions not to hope, but somehow, things collide and change.
In this language, when somene splits the word into syllables it means.
In fact, nothing on the page means anything at all. College degrees fail him. Daniel looks at the paper and might as well be looking at blank page.
His brain, apparently, has put an embargo on intellect. And until he gives into the demands of his heart, his brain will continue this embargo. Meaning: no cigar for him.
He refuses to set down the pen. Because he won't deal with this. In fact, he refuses to acknowledge. But he already has. This is something he knows every day when he wakes up.
He loves Jack.
Yes, there it is. Easy to tell himself that it's friendship, loyalty, camaraderie. Easy to believe that it's not Jack at all. That it's the fact that they go through the Stargate and nearly die every other day. Of course he feels something for Jack, it's natural. Nothing to worry about.
Only, he doesn't feel it about Teal'c. Or Sam.
He'd feel a lot better if he felt it about them. It's not that Jack is a man that scares him.
Daniel has seen some rather weird things and homosexuality doesn't even make it into the top ten list. In fact, the cultural stigma surrounding it really doesn't bother him.
After all, he can stand back and look at the value judgment made on it and say that they're just cultural ideas. It's all relative. On other planets, being straight is rather strange.
It's that it's Jack. Grey-haired, bad-kneed, oh-for-cryin'-out-loud, go fishing with me, I need a beer Jack. Colonel Jack O'Neill.
And usually, Daniel can justify stuffing that into some closet in his brain, locking the door, and carrying on. Usually he can deal.
Only, Jack came back on a stretcher two days ago. And his hat was so soaked with blood it was red. Daniel didn't dare take it off, for fear of having to acknowledge that perhaps this was it.
The moment where he loses Jack. And everything he ever hoped for along with it.
As long as Jack is alive, he can tell himself he'll get the courage to do something about how he feels. Later. When they get leave. When Jack retires. When they're done with the Stargate program.
So, yeah, he knows that these translations are pointless and the clock is running out. He feels it like a hand driving him forward, and now he's keenly aware that every second he sits here is a second less he's got with Jack.
He can't do this, sit here and pretend that these words, these scratched out translations of alien myths bear anything but his indifference.
He loves Jack. And there's one more second that he *doesn't* have with Jack.
So he files the papers, shuts down the computers, and just like that, walks away from it all. Gets into his car and starts driving down the mountain towards Jack's house.
Not that he'll get to tell Jack he loves him. Not that he'll get to do with Jack what he really wants (and thinks about kissing Jack and Jack's bad knees up around his waist and wonders if the hairs on his body are white like his head, or maybe still dark).
It's thinking about Jack with blood dripping into his eyes that slashes through his sexy little thoughts.
He can't risk scaring Jack off, and putting that huge, unfathomable, irreversible distance between them.
But he can go to Jack's house and pretend like he just wants the company, that he's got nothing better to do.
It's not like it's a lie.
Daniel knows that driving down the mountain is too long for silence, and for just a moment, he glances down to decide what tape to put in. And he can't quite make a decision between the book on tape and the shameful pop album (god forbid that anyone ever found out about it, because Daniel would meltdown and liquefy and die a hideous death of embarrassment if they did).
But he looks up and sees the reflection of the yellow reflective road sign that's a little too close and automatically brakes and turns the wheel hard.
God he doesn't know anything about snow, he thinks, it was stupid to do this. He could've stayed at the base.
There's one violent, world-jolting impact and Daniel's face goes right into the steering wheel and the back of his head against the seat. And there's not an airbag, which Daniel is sure he had.
He can only see white out his windows and he doesn't feel anything hurting which is ten times as scary. He just keeps staring out the window and tries not to face the reality that his car is probably ruined. So are his glasses, and thank god they're shatterproof, although bent and cracked.
It takes him a minute to notice that the windshield wipers are still going, squeaking across the window, ironic and darkly hysterical.
So Daniel laughs into the steering wheel, helpless and defeated. And closes his eyes.
The snow is bad, and driving in it is stupid. Insane, even. This isn't Jack.
There's a crazy person at the wheel. Jack, the actual owner of the human being who's currently driving is sitting in his own head, thinking while another part of him navigates up the mountain, towards the base.
Daniel and Carter both promised they would go home, try to enjoy having a few days of leave.
Carter, surprise, surprise, actually left. She and Dr. Fraiser and Cassandra were doing something involving lots of pink and girly things and shopping bags.
Thinking about Carter as a woman like that was just weird. Sure, he understood she was female, but the idea of her in going into stores and shopping and being in a mall. And somehow, he can only do it if he imagines Carter taking a MALP with her.
"The MALP shows that there's a sale on either side of the food court. I've rewired our credit cards to resist the intense heat of being scanned. If we hit a free-return trajectory around Victoria's Secret..."
But Daniel is still up there, at a desk somewhere. And Jack knows, like a sixth sense that he's like a monk. Neither partaking of food or rest or earthly pleasures.
Coffee is not an earthly pleasure for Daniel. It's like air and water. He's pretty sure that once Daniel goes on leave, the coffee expenditures of the SGC will decrease dramatically. In fact, he could probably bankroll a small country on the expense of Daniel's coffee.
And it's not even really good coffee. Chicory aside.
So Daniel is sitting, lonely, hungry, overstretched, at a desk. And nobody is going to tell him to go home, because Fraiser isn't there to remind Daniel that the human body is not made of 98% coffee.
This isn't Jack's job, and he reminded himself of that before he left the house. Daniel is a grown, very intelligent man, and he can decide his own bedtime.
Daniel is not a well-built clock. He can't run on his own. Daniel needs somebody to give him the right nudges. He needs someone to take care of him. Jack knows this, and really doesn't mind. Daniel more than takes care of him, of his teams out in the field.
And when Jack can't see something important, something Carter can't explain, because it's human and frail and intangible, Daniel is there to nudge and sometimes throw Jack out of the way.
There is no real way to express how valuable Daniel is out there. And if this is part of keeping such a valuable team member functioning, so be it.
Jack knows that is so bullshit.
This is a big excuse to get another look at Daniel after PXD-426.
PXD-426 was just standard reconnaissance, which Jack didn't actually believe in. He'd never actually been on a standard recon mission, because somehow, his standard always seemed to involve something going wrong. And being shot at. And yeah.
Wrong it indeed went. Quickly. And Jack was laying on the ground, dizzy, with blood dripping into one of his eyes. There were explosions, but he couldn't hear them. He'd long ago been deafened by something going off right next to his head.
And SG-2 carried him out on a stretcher, with Daniel not once more than an arm's length away. They got through the gate and they put him down to let Fraiser examine him and the other casualties. Daniel was hovering over him and he looked down, finally.
His hand ghosted over Jack's soaked hat and he couldn't bare to touch it. He couldn't say anything.
But Jack looked into Daniel's eyes and knew that Daniel loved him.
And he had an apostrophe (and he wished Daniel was there to correct him, to say "I think you mean epiphany, Jack.") right there.
He knew why he was on SG-1.
The scary thing was he wasn't sure before. Everyone on SG-1 came because they meant to. Daniel intended to find Sha're, the Harcesis child, and after his Ascension, the Lost City.
Carter had to explore, to find new technology, to go farther and farther.
Teal'c had to tear down the false gods, to let loose a vengeance so deep and profound that it was a personal religion to him.
Jack was on SG-1 because that was his job. Because he'd fumbled into it. Yes, he wanted to find technology and allies to save Earth. Yes, he wanted to kill the Goa'uld.
But that never seemed to constitute a personal reason. A moral reason. A good reason. Someone else's reason. Everyone but him seemed to have something deeply personal invested.
Daniel was his investment. He had to be there, because Daniel would need someone to watch his six, to lay down cover, to be brutal and ugly when Daniel couldn't.
Jack suddenly feels a hundred years old, ragged and ugly. He feels as if he's all wrinkles and white hair and scars. He feels like the ugly mutt coming to Daniel's doorstep.
But then Daniel lets him in and never seems to notice how inadequate he is, even when he lays his ignorance out in Daniel's plain view. Daniel doesn't turn him away. He tries to explain and teach. Even when Jack resists and bites, he tries to make Jack understand.
Like Jack could be taught and saved.
It's endearing and heartbreaking. And Jack takes a hard breath because this is a lot more emotional than he's used to. There's no tactical decision, no military strategy to distract him from his feeling. No excuse not to acknowledge that he loves Daniel.
And doesn't know to deal with even the idea of a world without Daniel.
That not touching Daniel does hurt. That the fact he's forced to get no closer to him than a friend is bittersweet agony. To see his sad moments and think that if there was a chance, he could show Daniel joy and awe, he could make Daniel know what he truly he is.
But he won't frighten Daniel like that. Because he knows better.
So he looks back to the road, and through the sheets of whiteness he sees a curve coming up and he's smart enough not to slam on his brakes and risk a disastrous fishtail on a half-frozen road. Only, it gives him no time to get out of the way of a blue car that's up against the mountain, in the road.
Two thuds and the truck rests, pinning the car between him and the mountain.
Jack picks himself up off the steering wheel and looks over. He can see the driver of the other car, through the small space in his window that isn't covered with snow. The little car's wipers still bravely pulse on, but the driver seems unaware of it.
He frowns and opens the truck, half falling out, dizzy and definitely shaking.
Jack has to go around his truck and awkwardly crawl onto the hood of the car. He pounds on the windshield.
And the driver moves only a little.
The first two impacts woke Daniel up and confused him. Had he had another accident, was he still having the first one? Was he dreaming? Did he fall asleep at the wheel?
He opened his eyes and sees cracked glasses, remembers that he's glad they're shatterproof.
He hears his windshield wipers still going. Wants to laugh, but only coughs and his body reminds him that it's been out in the cold, even if he hasn't.
There's pounding on the windshield, fast and angry. Daniel looks up and sees a blurry face looking in at him.
"Daniel!" the face screams and Daniel can't not know it's Jack, pounding on his windshield. Daniel laughs again, because it's funny, seeing Jack on the hood of his car.
And beautiful, that he's the one to come.
"Jack?" Daniel calls, taking off his glasses and realizing that even cracked, he needs them.
But reality seeps back into Daniel's world and he realizes that there's something very big and truck shaped on his other side. Possibly Jack's truck.
Did Jack hit him?
"I'll get you outta there! Just hang on!" Jack shouts and leaves. Daniel wants to follow and realizes, for the first time, that he's trapped in the car.
"Jack!" he shouts, wishing Jack wouldn't go away. Daniel feels claustrophobic and it's not so bad if Jack's there. Not so scary, although he wonders why it's this that's scaring him. "Jack!"
Suddenly there's tinkling glass and a fresh gust of icy air behind him. Daniel turns to see Jack and a hammer clearing away what's left of his back window.
Daniel forgets everything for a moment except how much that's going to cost to replace.
"Can you crawl to the back?" Jack asks, sticking his head in. Daniel's relieved to finally get a mostly clear view of him. And it feels like they're really close. Daniel turns around and lowers the armrest. "Be careful of the glass!"
Daniel is smart enough to put on gloves and then slowly he carefully moves his arms and legs, like a claustrophobic spider until he clumsily rolls of the trunk of his own car and lands in the snow. And Jack's helping him up before he fully realizes that he even fell.
Hugging himself, he takes a step back and surveys the damage.
"I just finished paying for that car," he says with a slow, pained expression coming over his face.
"That car?" Jack asks, looking at it. "Don't they pay you?"
"Yeah, but four student loans later..." and he doesn't bother to finish. In fact, he feels a little awkward. "Can you still drive your truck."
"I don't know. We might be able to fix it. How much do you know about cars?"
"They have four wheels and they cost money?" Daniel guesses.
"Oh for cryin' out loud," Jack says with a big sigh.
"We could call Sam."
"She's with Fraiser and Cassandra, remember?"
"Oh. You think Teal'c's kel'no'reeming right now?"
"It's almost two, Daniel. Every reasonable person in this state is kel'no'reeming right now."
"It's that late? What are you doing here then?"
And Daniel is a little confused and a lot excited that maybe, just maybe, Jack was coming up the mountain to get him. Jack says nothing, and if the wind had turned his face red long ago, he might detect him blushing.
"I was...you know," Jack fumbles. Daniel smiles and feels suddenly very predatory. Here is Jack before him, unsteady and somehow begging Daniel to do what he's about to do.
Oh, he's scared alright. This could ruin everything between him and Jack, forever. But for some reason, looking at his wrecked car and the snow and Jack. He just *can't* not do this.
He'll blame it on a head injury, aliens, fatigue, stress, insanity if it doesn't come out right. But wanting Jack, gorgeous and vulnerable in the snow, is suddenly too much.
And he stalks towards Jack and suddenly, he's got his lips over Jack's and his tongue in Jack's mouth. Wet and hot and familiar and somehow not. Like he's practiced it for months and it still feels so foreign.
It takes forever and once he stops, Jack looks stricken. Daniel feels like just jumping off the side of the mountain, and isn't sure he won't.
"What in the hell do you think you're doing?!" Jack asks, and suddenly Daniel is against the side of the truck and Jack has his coat in fists. And Daniel just knows this is the part where Jack's manly pride forces him to beat Daniel to a little tiny pulp.
He looks, wide eyed through cracked glasses and for the first time fears Jack.
"I'm - I'm - so sorry. I didn't - I'm sorry, Jack, I'm sorry," Daniel pleads and he sees Jack's hand moving and flinches, squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head away, preparing for Jack to knock him out of his own head.
"You think I'm going to hit you?" Jack asks in such a small, sad voice that Daniel has to open his eyes.
"It looks that way," he says, glancing down at the fists that Jack has around his coat. And Jack lets his coat go and his hands move again, and Daniel still fears. "I'm sorry. I don't know what...came over me. I'm sorry."
Only, Jack takes off his broken glasses and places them on the hood of the truck. Daniel is mostly-blind and fearful that Jack is about to punish him for the sheer hubris of thinking that he could get away with kissing him like that.
And meaning it. Because he doesn't have it in him to take that back, to deny that he loves this man, even if he is about to beat him within an inch of his life.
"Did you mean it?" Jack asks in a growly voice, like gravel being crunched underfoot. A hand slams into the truck door near his head.
"Just answer, dammit!"
Jack's breath is hot and cloudy on Daniel's face. He's angry and out of control and so intimate. And Jack is never intimate like this.
"Yes. I meant it, Jack. I'm sorry."
"Don't!" he screams again. "Don't you ever fucking apologize. Not for that."
And suddenly Jack has him pinned and he's kissing, his tongue everywhere and his hands still taking Daniel's clothes in fists and god it's furious. It's Jack, doing this to him. Oh god, his Jack, kissing and please, god, yes.
This can't be Jack, this is someone else. This isn't them, kissing. This is too impossible. And Daniel can't not fall into it. Whatever illusion it is, Daniel can't not dive.
Snow and wrecked cars and a hundred consequences becoming nothingness and the world is only as long and wide and deep as Jack's kiss, Jack's touch.
Blind and fumbling and oh god, that's not his erection pressed against his leg. It's Jack's. He has just made Jack hard and that's just. Too much and it's all not enough and sure he's got to breathe, but he'll do that later. Because as soon as he tastes Jack, he forgets, and he can't not know, so he's got to keep reminding himself that Jack's lips and Jack's mouth and Jack are this. Hard and compact and strong and yes. This.
Jack stops which is probably what frightens Daniel most because now he's no longer protected by that warm ecstasy of his little Jack-sized shelter against reality.
"You really thought I was going to hit you?" Jack asks again, his hands over Daniel's jacket, still so close his breath hits Daniel's face. "I wouldn't. Never. Is that what you think I am?"
"Of course not," Daniel says, looking straight into whatever blurry dark spots are Jack's eyes. "I know what you are, Jack."
"And what am I?"
Daniel doesn't really care to use words, and he understands now when the monk told him that words were misleading. Anything he says is too clumsy.
Only kissing Jack, slow this time, kissing him all over. Forehead, temple, cheeks, nose, lips, everything. Only that comes close to answering.
And still, it isn't enough. Daniel can only think that'll be enough when they've been each other's skin, when he's stroked and touched and heard Jack screaming his name, loud and growling, when he's had his mouth and hands all over him.
Then maybe, just maybe that'll come close to the answer.
All the words are lost, eaten up by their own inadequacy. The only way to tell Jack this is to make him feel it.
And still, he's got to say something.
"Mine," he says, into Jack's ear. "Mine."
- FIN -
I can't help it! Jack and Daniel were asking for it. And next I'm so going after Skaara. 'Cause he's pretty like the desert sand.
One day me write normal. Until then, yeah. But seriously, I promise to do some genfic. When Jack and Daniel wanna stop doing that thing they do. Chances are they won't. hehehe
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