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Just before entering his on-base quarters, Daniel paused, staring at the nameplate on the door, brow furrowed.  His expression was what Jack would call his ‘think face.’

DANIEL JACKSON, PhD

The thing looked odd.  The immediate adjective that came to him was lonely, which didn’t make any sense.  How could such a thing be lonely?  It then occurred to him that it wasn’t lonely.  It was incomplete.  It was missing his title:  Doctor.  To put Ph.D. there instead made it seem like an afterthought.  Oh yeah, this guy’s a doctor.  In fact, the nameplate on his desk didn’t have the title.  Nor did his locker.

With a silent snort of derisiveness, he went inside.  His gaze was on the floor, then the doorknob as he closed the door.  His constantly busy mind was fact-checking on whether the other scientists on base had their titles on their nameplates.  Was it a slight against civilians, or just him?  It wasn’t self-pitying or egotistical.  He looked ten years younger than his age.  It had been harder in his twenties, but at the not-so-tender age of thirty-five, he still encountered the ‘this guy is too young to have that many PhDs and couldn’t possibly be worth respect’ attitudes—primarily by the military.  He was used to it, and normally, it never passed two seconds of thought.  But on days like today when he was tired beyond belief, the two seconds turned into moody introspection and resentment.  In ten minutes, however, he would dismiss his feelings as pointless and move on to something worthier.  But for now ...

He frowned, slowly turning, eyes on the floor but not seeing it.  Memories of the Oriental Institute of Chicago came back to him and he let out a heavy sigh.  Six years there, three years at the SGC.  When would he get his well-earned respect anyway?  At fifty?  Ignoramuses.  The lot of them.  Shaking his head, Daniel turned, then froze.  He blinked a few times.

Jack was reclining on his bed, magazine in hand, propped up by the three pillows Daniel used for just that purpose.

It was a massive understatement that Daniel was rendered speechless.  It just didn’t happen all that often.  Even when shocked, he always had something to say.  Or perhaps it was simply that he tended to express his thoughts out loud.  This time, though, they stayed staunchly locked behind the verbal firewall.

The reason was simple: He was mad at Jack and didn’t want to be.

For the last few days, Daniel had put up a defensive wall whenever the man appeared in his company.  He didn’t trust himself not to start something that couldn’t be remedied.  Daniel rarely yelled, and it was likely his anger would change that, so he’d kept all exchanges to a minimum, and because it was unusual, Jack had been trying to find out what was up.  It was nearly self-sabotage.  Keep quiet, resisting talk, all the while knowing he’d get Jack to go after him like a dog with a bone to find out what was wrong.

The anger was both justified and not.  It was irrational and he had stubbornly decided he didn’t care that it was.  While he’d been out of phase thanks to the crystal skull’s properties, he’d expected everyone to do all they could to find out what happened.

Except they hadn’t, not even his pain in the ass colleague, Robert Rothman.  While he’d been thankful for Hammond’s words to his granddaughter, even he had gone home.  Teal’c would have been working on the problem, but it just hadn’t been his area.  He was the warrior, not the problem solver, unlike Jack and Sam, whose abilities in that area were part of their training.  Especially Sam.  It hadn’t felt right and still didn’t.  He wouldn’t have gone home.  He’d have stayed awake and on the problem until he fell down from exhaustion.

And therein lay the rub and the reason for the irrationality: Jack and Sam had also been suffering from radiation exposure.  They hadn’t actually gone home.  They’d gone to their on-base quarters so Janet could keep an eye on them.

It was just that it ... pissed him off.  He had been hit with the realization—an unfounded realization—that there had been some sort of shift in his importance to these people he thought of as his friends.  It wasn’t real, but it’s how it felt.  He couldn’t express these thoughts, either, because they were hypocritical.  Hadn’t he kept telling everyone that he wasn’t important, that he could be easily replaced?

As a professional, yes.  As a friend, no.  Therein lay the problem.  There really wasn’t a distinction, a difference.  And ... Jack wasn’t just his friend.

Which lay the real source of his anger: they’d been romantically involved for the past nine months, ever since he’d lost Sha’re.  At first, Daniel had thought that it was the rebound effect, but the person he rebounded with had been Jack O’Neill, The Eponymous Straight.

He knew Jack cared.  He felt it when they were together.

So what the hell?

All these thoughts passed within seconds, and on their heels came the questions about why Jack was there.  He couldn’t risk asking out loud, not with his anger.  But the other reason was that loud voices carried, even though the base doors were heavy steel, and the walls were concrete.

Before he had a chance to try to work out what the hell was going on with this man, Jack gave him that grin that, under different circumstances, would make him grin back.  This time, it only fueled Daniel’s anger.

“The questions and thoughts are written all over your face,” Jack said.

Light sarcasm colored his tone.  Daniel waited for the heavy sarcasm that typically followed, and when it didn’t arrive as expected, he chewed at his lip and considered not answering.  Jack stared at his lips, the teeth indenting the lower, and Daniel immediately folded in his lips and pressed them together.  Now was not the time for Jack to remind him of that odd moment in bed months earlier when Daniel had bit his bottom lip in thought.  Jack had murmured, “You’re cute when you do that.”  He had then followed that with bluster and throat-clearing to cover up the soft compliment.

Jack.

Hell’s bells.

That was a phrase he’d come to repeat more often, thanks to Sam saying it, but it sounded better than the phrase he’d grown up with: Fuckin’ A.  Sometimes that just didn’t apply.  Well, most times.

Jack then frowned a little.  “Still?  Silent?”

Daniel turned away and pinched the bridge of his nose.  Jack was exasperating.  (and loving, irritating, hot ...)  Couldn’t he see there was an issue?  Couldn’t Jack remember that he was the one who hated to talk?  Just once, Daniel needed Jack to answer the most obvious question without the goddamn song and dance.  He sighed.

Why are you in my room?” he asked, his back to the man.

“Why aren’t you home?” Jack asked.

Answering a question with a question was one of Daniel’s biggest pet peeves—hypocrisy, thy name was Daniel Jackson.  He would have said, “Jack, don’t be an ass,” but he’d said that already.  And his silence had to continue until he wasn’t mad anymore.  He expected it to fade.  He just needed time to get used to his new place in the world.  He then realized he wasn’t angry so much as he was hurt.

Behind him, Jack sighed.  “Normally, this silent treatment would only get it returned, but I’m tired and don’t wanna play games.  So.  Daniel.  What the fuck did I do?”

Daniel slowly turned around.  He felt a compulsion to go over and throttle the man.  He opened his mouth, closed it, and repeated it a few times.  Jack’s frown turned curious as his eyes examined Daniel’s face.  Daniel spoke just as Jack seemed ready to do so.

“I feel ...”  A word came to him and he snorted, then rubbed his face with his right hand.  “If you’ll pardon the pun, immaterial.”

“Why?” Jack asked.

Daniel expected him to get to his feet and pace, which was what Jack typically did, but he didn’t.  It seemed neither of them was behaving as usual.  It was Daniel’s turn to examine the man’s face.  “You guys just ... left me hanging.”  The last part of the sentence faded as if he’d changed his mind about saying it but the words escaped in a whisper.

“What?” Jack asked.

Daniel began to pace, but before he could form tactful words, Jack made a rude noise.

“Would you sit down?”

Daniel gave him an exasperated sigh.  “You’re the one usually pacing.  Figured I’d do it for you,” he said, throwing a hand at him.

“Yeah, well, sit down.”

Feeling contrary, Daniel stopped pacing and just crossed his arms.  “I can’t.  I mean, I don’t want to sit there,” and he gestured at the small desk’s chair.  “And I don’t want to sit next to you.”  He cleared his throat.  “Aside from the, uh, nearness, I’m mad at you.  And I shouldn’t be.  But it’s just that ...”  He gestured at Jack again.  “I can’t be near you and be mad.  Things might ...”  He blushed a little.  “Happen.”

Jack cleared his throat.  “Yeah, well.  Good point.”  The hint of a smile touched his lips.  “And I see your point.  But how would that happen because you’re angry?  Isn’t that supposed to go the opposite way?”

“Not with the way anger’s supposed to be dealt with!” Daniel said, further exasperated, and it just kept climbing, with Jack laying there all ...  Daniel sighed.  “You seem to forget how we are with each other.”

The hint of a smile grew.  “So, how about you come over to my place and talk about that?”

Daniel grew warm and the blush increased.  He hated that he did that.  “You’re sidestepping and ... and ...”  Jack grinned fully and Daniel scowled.  “Oh shut up.”

Jack finally got to his feet, then wavered a bit and grimaced.  He rubbed his forehead.  “Frasier’s ordered Carter and me to go home for two days and commit to a specific diet.  Mainly pills and electrolytes.  I’m here to take you with me.”  He walked over.  “You can make a grocery run and babysit.”

Daniel raised his brows.

“As good an excuse as any,” Jack said, grin fading.  “But first.  Tell me what the hell is going on with you.”

“You guys just went home,” Daniel blurted out.  “While I was walking around, waiting.”

Jack sighed and came up to him.  “Fraiser ordered us to go rest.”

“What?” Daniel asked, blinking.  “You two—”

“Two?”

“You and Sam.  You two were just chatting like normal.  And I’m standing there feeling ...”  He made a face.

“Abandoned,” Jack finished.

“Yeah.”  He grimaced again.  “It sounds bad when you say it.  Sounds more rational, sort of, inside my head.”

“I’m sure everything does,” Jack said dryly.

“Oh shut up.”

Jack took a half step closer.  “Make me.”

Daniel swallowed hard and took a step back.  “Goddammit, Jack.  Walls, remember?”  Jack took a step back with a triumphant gleam in his eyes.  Daniel scowled.  “You are such an asshole.”

“Sticks and stones.  Now let’s go home.  You can bitch about how you felt abandoned while I fix something to eat.”

“Well don’t just say it like I’m gonna tell you about a bad dream I had!” Daniel hissed, keeping himself from yelling.  “I would have stayed up all night, would have ignored Janet’s order, trying to get you guys back.  But no, it’s me, and for some reason, that’s not import—”

Jack took a long, quick step toward him and clamped a hand over Daniel’s mouth as his other arm pulled him close.  “I get it,” he whispered.  “I’m sorry.  But neither of us were capable of brainstorming.  We had to go home and rest.  And still do.  Now, accept it, and my apology.”  Jack suddenly wavered and Daniel’s hands came up to cup his elbows and steady him.

“Oh shit,” he said, and all anger evaporated, deflating his rigid stance.  He sighed and stepped away.  “Janet said I needed to go home to rest, too.  Said that the phase shift might have odd side effects.  That I shouldn’t take anything as normal for the next day at least.”  He slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand.  “I’m so stupid.”

Jack reached over and took his hand, squeezing it and letting go.  “Let’s just get it all out of your system anyway.  But at home.”

 

 

 

 

Daniel’s palms were sweating when he walked into Jack’s living room and tossed his jacket over the left arm of the sofa.  A twinge of heartache pierced him, leaving a heaviness behind, as he looked at Jack’s sofa chair.  It had only been two months since that damn Tollan-Asgard sting and while rationality had him accepting Jack’s apology, the memory of it still hurt.  He wasn’t angry at Jack; he’d been cornered by Hammond, Thor, and Travell.  Daniel didn’t believe he’d have done any differently, although he wouldn’t have alienated Jack in the same way.  At least, he didn’t think he would have.

“Here,” Jack said, making him jump.  The man’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.  “What’s got you so spooked?”

Daniel took the proferred bottle of Jack Daniel’s Country Cocktails’ Southern Citrus.  It had taken Jack a while to remember that he hated beer.  The JD drinks were, in Daniel’s estimation, an ironic, if apropos, replacement.  He held it, frowning.  “Are we supposed to drink alcohol?”

“Fraiser didn’t say we couldn’t.”

Daniel twisted the top off and took a drink, then gestured at the sofa chair while he sat down in the right corner of the couch.  “I was lost in painful thought.”

“Ah,” Jack said, wincing.  “Again, sor—”

“No,” Daniel said, cutting him off.  “You already did so we’re past that.  I was just remembering, that’s all.  Been doing a lot of that.  I think it’s ...”

Jack sat down next to him instead of taking the chair.  It surprised Daniel so much that his train of thought had a hiccup.  He stared at him, eyes wide.

Jack’s eyes widened in return.  “Will you quit doing that?  Now what?”

“You’re sitting here,” Daniel said.  “You never sit here.”  He added, almost under his breath, “I wonder if I de-phased into an alternate universe.”

“Okay, fine,” Jack said, starting to rise.

“No!” Daniel commanded, almost shouting, as he grabbed Jack’s upper arm, keeping him where he was.  “I’m sorry.  I’m not criticizing.”  He sighed and rubbed his face again.  It was then that he noticed the headache forming and rubbed between furrowing brows.  “I need some aspirin.”

“Hang on,” Jack said, and went to get it.

Daniel muttered, “Maybe Janet’s right.”

“What?” Jack called on his way back.

“Maybe Janet’s right ...” he repeated.  Jack handed him two pills and Daniel swigged them down.

“The side effects thing?” Jack asked, sitting back down.

“Yeah,” Daniel sighed.  He said it absently.  The headache was getting worse.  “Crap.”  He set the bottle on the table.  “I really hate wasting one of these, but I’m afraid I need to lie down.”  He rose and started fishing for his keys in his pocket.

“Where’re you going?” Jack asked.

“Home,” Daniel said.  He gave Jack a half-smile.  “You know.  Where my bed is.”

Jack rose.  “Yeah.  About that.  You’re not driving.  In the space of thirty seconds, your headache went from the aspirin stage to the lie-down stage.”

“You’re not driving me home,” Daniel half-complained.  “I can manage—”

“No, I’m not,” Jack said, following him to the front door, but he steered Daniel’s elbow toward the hallway.  “Nope.  You’re staying here.  C’mon.”

“But ...” Daniel began.  The pain traveled to his neck and he began rubbing it.  “Dammit.”

Jack eyed him sympathetically.  “It’ll hit your shoulders next.  I’ll get the heating pad.”

Daniel groaned as they entered Jack’s bedroom.  He stared at Jack’s bed as he stopped to toe off his shoes.  He wavered a bit and Jack steadied him.  Several competing thoughts ran through his aching mind, then more were added when Jack pulled down the blanket and sheet.  “I’m not getting into bed with my clothes on,” he murmured, refusing to move.

“Nope,” Jack said, and took Daniel’s jacket from him, then gestured.  “Take off the jeans and shirt.”

“Oh,” Daniel said with a heavy sigh.  “I sleep in the nude.”

Jack’s brows rose.  “Since when?”

“When I’m at home, I mean.  And it hasn’t come up because ...”  His words faded.  He made an awkward gesture of the two of them.  It hadn’t come up because they’d never spent the night together.  Like a regular couple.

“Yeah, well, do whatcha gotta do, but you’re getting in bed.”

Daniel suddenly felt the giddy all-over-body euphoria of a narcotic.  “Oh shit,” he said, only one sock off.  “You asshole!  You Mickeyed me!”

“No, I didn’t,” Jack said a bit defensively as he assisted Daniel with the removal of clothing.  “I just know what’s coming, so I’m heading it off.”

“Should’ve told me,” Daniel growled, though the anger was abating.  The drug was edging it off.  “You know I don’t like drugs.  After the sarcophagus ...”  His headache was fading a little, but the muscle soreness wasn’t.  When he lay back in bed in nothing but boxer briefs, Jack handed him the large heating pad, rolled up like a neck pillow.  Daniel snatched it from him with a scowl.  Jack grinned.  As Daniel put it behind his neck, he added, “Okay, thanks.”  He sighed and stared up at him.  “You still shouldn’t have done that.”

“Frasier would keep us in the infirmary if she knew just how bad the headache and body ache got.  I had leftover meds from those bruised ribs last month, so we escaped getting—”

The phone rang.  Their eyebrows went up in surprise as Jack picked up the receiver on the nightstand.  “O’Neill.”  He cringed.  “Fraiser,” he mouthed.  “Yeah, doc,” he said, attention on the call.  “No.  Yes.  And no we’re not coming in.  I have meds.  Yeah, leftover...”

Daniel watched him and felt the drug, along with the heating pad, easing off the pain.  It was also lowering his typical cautiousness because he was feeling just a tad amorous.  He stopped paying attention to the phone call and focused instead on cutting off the desire.  He told himself he was in no shape to be doing anything ...

Just the thought sent a rush of heat between his legs.  Their version of physical was oral.  It had never advanced beyond that and for a time, he had let it stay that way, thinking Jack wasn’t into regular sex, but it had been damn odd.  Sometimes he’d thought that it was a homophobic restraint and ...

And suddenly, all the irritation, the hurt about feeling abandoned, focused into a pinpoint of realization: their so-called relationship.  One he desperately wanted to change.

Jack hung up the phone.  “We don’t have to go back,” he said with a particularly crafty grin.

Daniel swallowed and schooled his features to blandness as he closed his eyes.  “That’s good.  But why would we?  We’re covered.”

“Caution is Fraiser’s middle name,” Jack said, rolling his eyes.

Daniel let out a slight rumble of amusement.  “I thought it was Napoleonic power monger.”

Jack stared at him.  “You heard that?”

Daniel kept his eyes closed.  “I was there.”

“Right.  So, gonna tell me what happened, from your side of things?”

Daniel did, and to his slight dismay, he had Jack laughing.  He opened his eyes and scowled.  “It wasn’t funny.  I thought I was gonna be trapped if you didn’t listen to Nick.”

Jack sobered a little.  “Sorry.”

“You’re not,” Daniel said, scowl vanishing because it suddenly seemed like too much effort.  “Humor is great for retrospection, but I was scared and desperate.”  He scowled again, but not at Jack.  “It pisses me off that I was robbed of a really fantastic gift.”

“Gift?” Jack asked, clearly astonished.

“From an archaeological standpoint.  I envy Nick.”  He could see that the feeling went straight over Jack’s head.  He sighed and held up a hand when Jack opened his mouth to reply.  “I know, I know.  You don’t get it.  One of these days, it’d be great if you tried to put it in a perspective you’d understand.”

“Daniel,” Jack sing-songed as a warning.  “Let’s not start that argument again.”

“Humor me, I’m ill,” Daniel said grumpily.

Jack gave him a mollifying tip of his head as he reached over to take the spare pillow.  Daniel immediately grabbed part of it and yanked, making Jack lose his balance and sit on the bed.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch.  If you sleep on the couch, I’m starting a fight.”

Jack stared down at him.  “I’m not going to bed yet.  It’s only seven p.m.”

“Stop it.  You’re deflecting,” Daniel scowled back, though he was surprised at what time it was.  “If you want to watch TV, then watch it in here.”  He knew where the conversation was heading now, and he winced.

“You don’t want to be alone?” Jack asked, surprised.  “Since when?”

Daniel ground his teeth, not answering.

“Daniel?” Jack asked, repeating the sing-song.

“Not scared of being alone,” Daniel managed slowly.  He needed to do his own deflecting but gave in.  “I need to talk to you.”

“About?” Jack asked slowly.

Daniel met his gaze and held it.  “We haven’t been ... seeing each other.  And maybe you’ve noticed, too, because you’re being awfully solicitous.”

“I’m not.”

Daniel abruptly sagged, and in doing so, realized he’d been holding himself rather rigidly.  He scrubbed his face again.  “Look.  You’re sitting next to me while I’m in bed.  You sat next to me on the couch.”

“Yeah, so?  That’s not solicitous.  It’s just me being me.”

“Oh horseshit,” Daniel argued, slurring on the sh.  “You are Mister Arms-length, even though we’re ... whatever we are.  Which pretty much says it all right there.”  Jack gave him an unreadable look.

Daniel needed to say it.

It was suddenly the most important thing in the world.

He swallowed, almost convulsively.  “I love you, you know.”

It definitely caught Jack off-guard and the man’s brows rose dramatically.

“Yeah, there.  I said it.  And I wasn’t ever going to because you’re you and I’m me and we’re not really ... but we sort of are ... and anyway, thanks to your sabotaging the aspirin, I’m all chatty and stuff.”

Daniel sat up, holding the heating pad to his neck with one hand while counting with the other.  He began, speaking rapidly, “First, you and Sam didn’t work all night to find me.  And ...” he continued, louder to shut Jack up when he began to protest, “...I know that’s not your fault.  I’m just sayin’ it because I’m childish like that.  Second, I find you in my room, waiting for me, which just does not happen.  Third, you sat next to me on the couch out there.  And just ... what was that?  You sit in your chair.  Always.  Even when we’re flirting, and only when it seems like we’re about to, I mean, you know, do something do you actually come close to me.  And lastly, you’re sitting on the bed, here, next to me, and you’re not in it, which is a whole different thing, you know?  But still, it’s odd and we haven’t been, you know, lately, and I started to wonder if we were off, or whatever, and ...”  He took a deep breath and let it out.  More softly he asked, “What’s up with you?  Gonna explain or continue to drive me batshit?”

Jack frowned; it looked to Daniel like he was solving a puzzle.  After a full minute of silence, Daniel sighed and laid back down.  He didn’t say anything.  It hadn’t taken him long to discover that waiting on Jack for an answer only worked if he gave him time.  It was, ironically, testing his patience to wait.

But he had said he loved him.  Which, all things considered, should probably mean he needed to give Jack a moment to consider his response.  But again, that shouldn’t need time to respond to ... were the man anyone but, well, him.

And again, again, what the hell were they to each other?  Why ...

“We ... I ...”  The damn pills were fogging him up.  “Say something.”

Jack said, with contemplative pauses, “I’ve been ...  thinking about ... us.”

Daniel studied him, shoving down the surprise.  A minute went by.  Then two.  Daniel heaved another sigh.  “Look.  All that stuff I said before was ... it’s my bassackward way of ...”  He scrunched up his face in a grimace.  “We are so not good at this.”

Jack gave him a wry grin.  “No.  We’re not, are we.”

“What are we?” Daniel asked.

There it was.  Sort of.

Jack frowned, puzzled.  “What?”

“Are we in a relationship?”  Jack’s face went blank.  His way of putting up a wall.  “Goddammit, don’t close off.  I need to know.  I want more than what we’ve been doing.  I want, well, normal.”  He then blushed horribly, and he covered his eyes with his free hand.  “Okay.  I’m ... I’m ... dying now.  Say something right.  Say you agree with me.”

He felt Jack’s hand on his, taking it from his face.  The man had a slight smile on his face, more so in his eyes.  He was amused.  Daniel clenched his teeth, refusing to speak.  He couldn’t look at him and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I agree,” Jack said.

Daniel swallowed, and Jack lightly pinched his chin to make Daniel look at him.  It had been a thing of theirs for a while.  Daniel opened his eyes ... and saw the emotion in Jack’s dark gaze.

“I’m not good at this,” Jack said.  He swallowed.  “You know that.”

“I know that.”

“But yeah, it, we,” and Jack gestured between them.  “Need to redefine what we are.”  Again, he swallowed.  “I didn’t know what I wanted out of you when I started this whole thing.  Now I’m not sure what I want out of us, but you’re right.  It can’t go on the way it’s been because it’s not really ... and I’d like ... just ... just ...”

He needed a rescue.  “I’d like to be more to you than just some ...”  Daniel made an airy hand.

“Fuck buddy?” Jack asked.

Daniel narrowed his eyes.  “Booty call sounds cleaner.  But neither applies because we haven’t actually ...”  He made a sweeping gesture that didn’t clarify anything.  “You know.”

Jack’s cheeks twitched in his version of a wince.  “Yeah.”

“I ... want to.”  Jack twitched again, but this time it was his teeth clenching.  Daniel pushed against the mattress, sitting up again, but this time brought his knees up to rest his arms over them.  It was a defensive, protective posture that put too much pressure on his groin, but at the moment, he didn’t care.  “Do you?”

Jack started to answer but then looked puzzled.  “Uh ... okay, I need to know what you mean exactly.  Because if you mean—”

“Sex.”

“—Okay, yeah.”  Jack paused, with a lot of throat-clearing.  “I’m not the catcher type, Daniel.”

Daniel’s mouth fell open a little.  His blushing came back, but not as severe, and he did his own throat-clearing.  “I ... am.”

Jack blinked at him.  “So, you’re saying ...”  He gestured between them.  “And that you, I mean, we ...”

“Yes.”

“Ah,” Jack said.

Daniel waited, watching him as his expression went through a few decisions.

“Then, not fuck buddies but ...”

“Real,” Daniel said, frowning.  “Relationship real.”  He had to wait through another minute of silence.  Then Jack gave him a slight grin.  And didn’t say anything.  “Is that Jack-speak for ‘deal’?”  The grin grew sexier, damn him.

“Deal.”

Daniel sighed with relief and exasperation.  “Then get undressed and get into bed.”

“Not while you’re stoned.”

“Oh, hell’s bell’s, Jack.  I don’t mean we do anything.  Just get—”

Jack kissed him.

Daniel would have kissed him back, but drugs, drowsiness, and stress overtook his awareness.

 

 

 

 

Daniel took the last bite of the ice cream pint, spoon upside down in his mouth.  Jack set the pint on the nightstand.

“We missed out on ice cream sex.”

Daniel snorted.  “We missed out on the sex, period.  Let’s wait a while for anything kinky.”

“Party pooper,” Jack said, pulling Daniel’s back against him.

“Never had midnight dinner in bed before,” Daniel said as he snuggled back against him.  He swallowed against the very real feel of Jack’s penis through his boxers.

“After you woke up hungry, it seemed the thing to do.”

“You mean since you were already making it after my nap.”

Jack grinned.  “So, now that we’ve eaten ...”

Daniel barked out a laugh because an altogether non-food image came to him.  “Food, you mean.”

“And talked,” Jack continued, ignoring the taunt.

“And talked,” Daniel relented.

“And you’re soberer.”

“And I’m soberer.”

“In pain?”

“Not really.”

“But ...” Jack began.  “If we ... and there is ...”

Daniel turned in his arms.  “I’m no virgin, Jack.”  He stared into those dark, sexy eyes, reading Jack like a book.  He drew him down into a kiss that was full of chocolate and passion.  “And I’ve been looking forward to it for a long, long time.”

It turned out that so had Jack.  He began the moves, with the firm touch of fingers and the muscular strength of his body.  The heat was piercing, as was the burn, but it didn’t last long.  Jack rocked into him, gentle at first, then harder as their ardor rose.  He was all wantonness and longing and Daniel received him with equal fervor.  At first, on his stomach, but when he turned over, the wildness and heat in Jack’s eyes combined with the flush of his cheeks had Daniel twining around him.  He gasped out his love in the moment of completion and Jack clutched to him, whispering it after.

“I do love you,” Jack said in the afterglow, all sleepy and warm.

“Right backatcha,” Daniel said, drifting off.

“Isn’t that my line?”

“Yeah.  Sue me.”

“Maybe later.”

 

~

End