Work Text:
Daniel was not hiding in his office. He was a busy man. There was always work for him to do in there. So, no, he wasn't hiding, thank you very much. The part of him that had been influenced by hanging around Jack too much (not that there was such a thing) said it was, at worst, a tactical retreat. There was only so much of Sam's concern and Teal'c’s watchful silence that a man could take.
He was fine.
Right as rain.
Fit as a fiddle.
Completely okay.
Fine. Just fine.
It was a knack you developed as part of an active Gate team. Especially as part of SG1. The ability to be fine no matter what was thrown at you. Daniel had simply mastered it as a child.
So he and Jack had been separated from Sam and Teal'c offworld. And so the local population had been a bit overzealous in ensuring they would be useful to the System Lord who hadn't visited in generations but apparently had a scientific curiosity for offworlders. But Daniel was fine. Jack was fine. And Daniel was, not to belabour the point, fine.
They'd both survived much worse than a few days of torture. Much worse. That was the important thing.
They'd been getting themselves out too, when Sam and Teal'c came to lend a hand.
Daniel sipped on his coffee, promised soothing warmth instead yielding cold sliminess. His nose wrinkled, cup set down with a tad more force that was strictly necessary.
If he wasn't fine, that was the sort of disappointment that would have sent him over the edge. Daniel just breathed through his nose and got back to the report on an artifact SG4 had brought back from their last mission.
He'd read the same paragraph three times before he gave in and acknowledged the familiar if not entirely unwelcome feeling of a concerned gaze.
Pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a sigh, Daniel lifted his eyes to the man who'd probably been camped out in that chair for about twenty minutes.
Jack didn't even have the decency to look bored. Damn the man. He should be home, drinking beer and watching sports not watching over Daniel. They weren't together at work.
“I'm fine.”
Far from the simple statement of fact he'd intended, Daniel knew Jack would hear the tiredness lacing his words. The unvoiced plea just to drop it for God's sake.
“Well, I'm not.”
Daniel blinked, this was not how these discussions usually went. For all his many strengths, Jack O'Neill did not do emotional vulnerability. Daniel barely did emotional vulnerability and he'd never had to go through basic training.
“I spent all mission looking forward to a slice of pie, Daniel. All mission. And when we got back? They were out.” Jack throws his hands up, shaking his head at the ceiling. “Completely out of pie. What kind of justice is that?”
“Jack.”
Daniel struggled to pull back an exasperated smile. Jack was not being subtle. That whole spiel was basically you wanna pretend you're fine? Fine. But I'm not going to let you wallow. Ass.
Jack's hazel eyes sparkled. “It's unacceptable.”
“You could just go to a bakery, Jack. Colorado Springs is full of them.”
Jack pulled a yo-yo from his pocket, idly rolling it out. “It's the principle of the matter, Daniel.”
“Principle,” Daniel nodded, his smile slipping out. “Funny name for being too lazy to drive to a bakery.”
Jack raised an eyebrow, his smile a satisfied little thing. “Maybe I like base pie.”
“Maybe I like base coffee,” Daniel retorted, sending a glare at the mug perched on a stack of Goa'uld translations.
Jack pocketed his yo-yo, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You know what I think?”
Do not engage, Daniel, do not. It's what Jack wants.
“That you've been denied your fundamental human right to terrible pie?”
“Exactly,” Jack nodded proudly, rising to his feet with more grace than a man just off their mission should. “So here's what we're gonna do.”
“You're going to find your own pie and leave me to my work?” Daniel asked, knowing it was hopeless. Jack O'Neill was now a man on a mission.
“Work can wait until tomorrow, Daniel. My pie craving cannot.”
“This report,” Daniel began with great dignity. “Is important too, Jack.”
Not perhaps for archaeological reasons, but Daniel could probably make a fortune selling it as a sleep aid.
Jack's palpable smugness said he'd already worked that out for himself.
"You," Jack decreed, pointing at him, "are going to drive us to that bakery you found last month. The one with the good crust. And you're going to be fine while you do it. Because you're fine, right, Daniel? That's what you keep telling me."
Daniel's eyebrow twitched. "That's-"
"Fully capable of operating a motor vehicle while fine," Jack continued, completely straight-faced. And talking over him. The ass. "Able to hold a conversation. Able to pick out a pie without having a crisis over filling consistency. That's the level of fine we're talking about here, isn't it?"
The audacity of this man. "Jack, I really don't think-"
"Perfect," Jack grinned, somehow already marching Daniel towards the door. He really hated it when he did that. "Then we're good. Let's go."
“I hate you,” Daniel grumbled, smiling despite himself.
Jack grinned, practically bouncing towards the elevator. “Sure you do, Daniel. Sure you do.”