Five SG-1 Ficlets for the Pepesplace Elvis Challenge
The Pepesplace December Challenge has produced some really nice pieces of artwork and writing. Lots of the stories have made their way to Area 52 already, so go look there if you haven't seen them yet. Mine aren't there yet - I'll get around to it at some point I expect, but I thought I'd put them up here. LJ is a great tool for me - I can post everything in one place, no matter what fandom or how short or useless they are - if I didn't put them here, I'd probably lose half the stuff I wrote before it made it to Xim to go on my website.
So, we had a list of 31 Elvis titles to choose from. Some hardy souls have vowed to do all 31, but I was content to pick and choose, and these are the ones I came up with so far (they're all Jack and Daniel - no surprises there then):
Title - Heartbreak Hotel
Rated - PG
Warnings/Spoilers - slash, drugs (mild), humour, language.
Word Count - 1214
Author's Notes - Thanks, Snicks. All remaining mistakes are my own.
Synopsis - Daniel's feeling happy and chatty. Jack's feeling surprised. No one cares how the llama feels.
Heartbreak Hotel
Of course it would be Daniel, Jack thinks sourly as he jogs down deeply carpeted corridors to the room he and his wayward archaeologist were assigned. It couldn’t have been Teal’c (Junior would have sorted it out) or Carter (who does nothing that isn’t by the book without a sizeable kick in the ass). And after the whole marriage cake situation, Jack has learned his lesson and never accepts tasty goodies from strange aliens.
So. Daniel.
Daniel is an anthropologist first and foremost, and when someone had to drink from the ceremonial cup to seal their treaty with the Darsey, Daniel had already chugged half the mug down before Jack had time to ask if they had any decaf.
Jack made his excuses right after he saw Daniel weaving his way through the party, heading for the door with a huge smile on his face, the governor’s hat on his head, singing to himself.
“Daniel?” Jack opens their door quietly, hoping that he made it back safely and hasn’t wandered off looking for snacks or something. It looks like a set from an Arabian Nights porn flick in their room - all jewel coloured silks and gilded lanterns setting soft light and subtle shadows.
“Jack!” is the only warning he gets before he is plastered from head to foot with happy, demonstrative, half-dressed Jackson. Jack manages to kick the door shut and struggle them both over to one of the opulently appointed beds. He bounces them down as carefully as he can.
“It’s so great that you came,” Daniel says delightedly, burrowing his cold nose into Jack’s neck and hugging him tightly.
“Well, where else would I be?” Jack says lightly, subtly trying to create some distance between them with his hands, and when that doesn’t work, with his elbows and knees.
But Daniel is having none of it. He laughs like a loon and holds on tighter. Daniel tripping on alien hooch is unbelievably cute, but Jack wishes he’d let go, so he could check Daniel was just high and not showing any other symptoms. The governor guy Jack had cornered at the party was quick to assure him that the juice had no long lasting effects, and was simply something to make the drinker “joyous” but Jack would like to be sure of that.
“Whatcha been doin’, Daniel?” Jack asks, trying to distract Daniel from the koala-like hold he has on him.
“I’ve been thinking,” Daniel says, suddenly serious. “And it’s just not working out between us. I think we should break up.”
Jack stops struggling. He just sighs, stares at the ceiling and lets Daniel, well, snuggle is the only word that really does it justice. Why does this shit always happen to HIS team? “O…kay. How come?”
“Well, d’uh!” Daniel crows. “It’s an unhealthy relationship.”
“And the fact that we don’t actually HAVE a relationship?” It’s a small point, and Daniel’s obviously got it all worked out, but Jack feels he really ought to mention it in the interests of accuracy.
“Is erroneous. And beside the point. We DO have a relationship, only most of it is in my head,” Daniel tells him earnestly, taps his forehead, and then smiles. He slips his arms around Jack’s waist again and twines their legs together.
Jack can’t stop the grin that sneaks across his face that’s one part amusement, one part surprise and eight parts triumph.
“Jack?” Daniel’s voice is muffled due to the whole bodily contact thing, but Jack can hear a plaintive note in it. “Could you just have a look under the bed and see if the llama is still there?”
“Llama?”
“Yeah. Big one. Messy hair. Bad attitude.”
“There’s no llama, Daniel. Trust me on this.”
“Okay. Jack?”
“Yes, Daniel?”
“I think I might be slightly toasted.”
“Yeah, buddy. I think so,” Jack says gently, stroking Daniel’s back, hoping it will soothe him into falling asleep. Jack wants to get to the hung-over, sheepish part of this conversation that will happen in the morning. He has all kinds of questions for a sober, embarrassed, apologetic Daniel.
“But I still think we should break up.”
Shrugging mentally, Jack guesses he may as well play along. He really wants to hear why Daniel’s dumping him. “Why?”
“Well, you know. The whole unrequited thing. It’s so passé. And pathetic. Even the llama thinks so, although he’s pretty opinionated to tell you the truth. Thinks he’s SO smart.”
“So what if we UN-unrequite it?” Jack asks slowly, feeling like a bit of a heel, but it’s kind of hard to ignore that one of the hottest men at the SGC has been having a huge gay love affair with him without Jack even realising. Or benefiting. Jack thinks that’s spectacularly unfair, particularly as he’s been harbouring some pretty similar ideas himself.
“S’not a word. Un-unrequite. You can’t say that.” Daniel abruptly sits up and kind of weaves around. His hair is sticking up and his eyes are slightly unfocussed. God knows where his glasses have ended up. “Whoa!” he murmurs weakly. “Spinning.”
Jack reaches up and pulls Daniel to lay down flat on his back. “Better?”
“Nope. Ugh, God!” Daniel’s hands are clutching on to the silky covers and his eyes are tight shut. He starts to make piteous moaning sounds. “Oh, I hate this bit.”
“Are you gonna hurl, Daniel? Because we’re broken up, and therefore I’m SO not cleaning you up if you do.”
Daniel just whimpers. “Whole damn place is moving. Are you sure about the llama? I can definitely smell llama,” he mutters between whines.
Jack rolls his eyes and unlaces his boots. When he’s comfortable, in BDUs and t-shirt, he lies down beside Daniel, carefully rolls him on to his side, then wraps his arms around Daniel’s chest. “Better now?” he asks the back of Daniel’s head.
“Huh,” Daniel says, sounding surprised. “Actually…”
Jack gives Daniel a minute, waiting for him to find the right words, but nothing is forthcoming.
“Daniel? Daniel?” His answer is a definite snore. Jack shakes him a little. “Daniel? Your buddy the llama wants to know what you want for breakfast.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Daniel slurs, and then snores again.
“Daniel?”
“Shhhh! Sleeping now.”
Jack resists the urge to smack Daniel on the back of the head. Just. He rolls him onto his back and quickly checks him over like he was taught to in his Alien Intoxication 101 class and concludes that Daniel is wasted, but nothing worse.
He briefly considers going back to his own bed, but rejects this idea for several important reasons: one - he has to monitor Daniel’s vitals through the night just to be certain that he’s okay, two - he needs to be here in case Daniel wakes and has a llama related freak-out and tries to take off, and three - his bed is all the way on the other side of the room and it’s kind of warm and comfortable tucked up here with Daniel.
Jack lays back and tries out Daniel’s snuggling thing. He finds it’s pretty good, so he closes his eyes and starts thinking of reasons why he and Daniel should definitely get back together in the morning.
He only gets as far as make-up sex before he falls asleep.
Fin
Title - Change Of Habit
Rated - NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers - slash, language.
Word Count - 656
Author's Notes - Thanks to Snicks for the once over. All remaining mistakes are my own.
Synopsis - It's short. There's lasagne. Gratuitous use of the term "Danny-boy".
Change of Habit
When Daniel wakes, he isn’t surprised to find the other side of his bed empty - saddened, but not surprised. He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t wish for it to be otherwise, but he’s grateful for what he’s got. He knows just how long it’s taken Jack to even get this far. Coming to Daniel’s house for sex instead of moments snatched off-world or in little used storage closets on the base (Jack knows all the places where there’s no surveillance) has taken patience (from Daniel) and courage (from Jack). Daniel can’t bring himself to be disappointed that Jack hasn’t stayed.
He’s rolling into what he now fancifully thinks of as Jack’s pillow and trying to go back to sleep when he hears a noise.
Jack hasn’t left yet.
He’s probably still getting dressed in the living room where they ended up impatiently dragging each other’s clothes off last night.
If Daniel can catch him, maybe he can persuade him back to bed for a couple more hours.
Incentive is the key.
Daniel licks his lips, runs a hand through his hair and ignores his bath robe hanging on the back of his door as he pads to the living room. There’s no one there, but he can hear soft sounds coming from the kitchen.
Wishing he’d at least pulled on a pair of shorts, in case it turns out not to be Jack, Daniel moves quietly to peer around the doorway.
By the refrigerator light, Jack is standing as naked as Daniel, leaned against the counter. There’s a fork in his hand and he’s shovelling cold spinach lasagne into his mouth with single-minded focus.
“That’s gross,” Daniel says softly.
Jack sniggers - Daniel’s never successfully sneaked up on him yet. “I didn’t want to wake you by powering up the microwave.”
“That’s very selfless of you.” Daniel watches as Jack puts the fork and the Tupperware into the sink, closes the fridge and saunters back toward him, each movement exaggerated, calculated to make Daniel horny, which, inevitably, it does.
“Not really,” Jack says conversationally, coming to a stop right in front of Daniel, close enough that Daniel can still smell himself of Jack’s skin. “I didn’t want to wake you up with that because I wanted to wake you up with this.”
Jack goes to his knees slowly but easily, and immediately takes the head of Daniel’s cock in his mouth, still cold from his snack. He keeps his lips soft as he runs the tip of his tongue around the crown of Daniel’s hardening dick.
Daniel puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder for balance, and cups Jack’s jaw with the other. He can feel the muscles working beneath Jack’s skin, and hums appreciatively.
Jack obviously likes the response, because he slowly, deliberately slides his mouth down Daniel’s shaft until he’s as deep as he can take him.
Daniel can’t help the shudders that ripple through him. He rubs his thumb across the corner of Jack’s mouth, stretched taught around him, loving the feel of Jack’s effort to take more of him in.
“Oh God, Jack. That’s so good,” Daniel murmurs softly, widening his stance to keep himself upright. “I thought… I thought you were leaving…”
There’s an obscene pop as Jack pulls off, leaving Daniel panting and aching already. “Leaving? Are you kidding me? Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to be ready for us spending the night together? I’m not going anywhere, Danny-boy.”
Daniel can’t believe what he’s hearing. He wants to yell, he wants to tell Jack exactly how careful he’s been not to scare him off, how many times he’s had to bite back words that he thought might freak Jack out.
But Jack is licking his cock from root to tip and wrapping that big, warm palm around him and taking him in so, so slowly.
Daniel will tell him later.
Or not.
Fin
Title - A Little Less Conversation, A Little More Action
Rated - PG
Warnings - slash
Author's Notes - Ta, Snicks. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Synopsis - Jack's not getting all his memos.
A Little Less Conversation, A Little More Action
Jack doesn’t know when it happened. It must have been when he was looking the other way. One day it wasn’t there at all, and the next day, bang! Fully-fledged and ready to go.
Daniel had become a soldier.
His fingers used to fumble, never certain where they were supposed to go. His eyes used to close when he fired, his shots going wide. He used to bite his lip, his unease apparent to any casual onlooker and a gift to a hostile.
But not anymore.
Daniel is competent. He can make the hard decisions. He moves like a professional and he radiates a quiet assurance that Jack thinks makes him look pretty dangerous.
And hot as hell.
Jack wonders if it’s the macho thing that does it for him, but he remembers a time when Daniel was just a skinny, clueless dweeb, with endless questions, a big brain and a bigger heart, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t gotten off on that too.
So it’s a Daniel thing.
And Jack obviously isn’t getting all his memos, because he doesn’t know when THAT happened either.
He’ll have to think about it.
And he will.
Right after he’s finished watching a slightly sweaty Daniel, renewing his firearms certification - P-90 against his shoulder, black t-shirt stretched tight across his back, sighting the target just like Jack taught him.
He wouldn’t want to break a guy’s concentration.
Fin
Title - I Need Your Love Tonight
Rated - PG-13
Warnings - language, slash, humour.
Word Count - 176
Synopsis - For 176 words? Are you kidding me? *sigh* Love is all about give and take. And pop-tarts.
I Need Your Love Tonight
The first time Daniel wakes up to find Jack climbing into his bed, he almost brains him with his alarm clock.
The second time, he mutters and moves over, opening his arms to pull Jack into the warm spot he’s just vacated.
The third time, Daniel tells him to stop breaking into his damn apartment and gives him a key to the front door.
Jack snores if he sleeps on his back, drools if he sleeps on his side and is, to Daniel’s disgust, a morning person.
Daniel learns to tuck the blankets beneath him to stop Jack from hogging them all, and to sleep through anything up to and including a 4.5 on the Richter scale. He invests in a coffee machine that has a timer on it, so by the time Jack has finished his shower, he’s already ingested enough caffeine that he doesn’t actively try to disembowel Jack with one of his fucking Pop-tarts.
Daniel also learns what it is to be madly, stupidly, irrevocably in love.
And that he’s so, so screwed.
Fin
Title - Help Me Make It Through The Night
Rated - PG-13 (unsubtle implication of naughtiness)
Warnings - slash, humour
Authors Notes - Thanks to Snicks for the read. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Synopsis - Daniel needs a hand. Jack will do anything for a friend.
Help Me Make It Through The Night
It takes Jack a while to find him, but there’s a tightness around Daniel’s eyes and a definite forced quality to his laughter when Jack finally spots him.
The amount of diplomacy and ass-licking going on in the SGC tonight is making Jack feel edgy and slightly reckless - he never did understand the necessity for politicians. He’s yet to meet one he actually likes. The woman who has Daniel cornered, for example, could really do with a lesson in subtlety. Daniel’s not the kind of guy who reacts well to blatant. Jack knows this.
He watches as Daniel shifts his body away from hers every time she moves closer. Jack notices how nervously Daniel plays with his fingers and how his eyes won’t hold hers, even though he’s smiling and talking animatedly. These are all Danielisms for, “help!”
When her aide interrupts her, Jack sees his chance.
Daniel smiles politely as she tell him that she’ll be back in just a moment, but Jack is there before the smile has even faded.
“Having fun?”
“If it were this or sticking forks in my legs, I’d go with the forks,” Daniel says, his voice low and his expression bland, never giving away that he’s in any way disgruntled.
“That’s too bad. We could really use her goodwill,” Jack says sounding so serious, he almost has himself fooled.
Daniel sighs quietly and sips his wine.
“Of course, I suppose…”
Daniel’s eyes are instantly alert and he licks his lips. “Anything, Jack, just get me out of here.”
“Yeah?”
Jack must have given away his intent in the tone of his voice, because Daniel’s eyes flicker to him speculatively.
“So what’s it worth?”
“How do you mean?” Daniel asks carefully.
“I can get you out of the party, Daniel. For a price.”
“What do you want?” Daniel growls a little and Jack has to cover a small shiver with a sip of his government funded Chardonnay.
“What have you got?” Jack likes to live dangerously.
Daniel thinks for a moment. “You remember Sunday?”
“Yeeeees,” Jack hedges even though he knows damn well that Daniel sees through him every time.
“That… thing you liked?” Daniel elaborates with a significant and rather sexy lift to his eyebrow.
“You’ll have to be more specific, Daniel. I like a lot of things.”
A flicker of irritation crosses Daniel’s face before he smiles graciously across the room at one of the crowd of international sycophants. “The thing with the fingers,” he murmurs as he waves a hand in friendly recognition.
Jack clutches at his wine glass involuntarily, catching himself just before he breaks the stem.
Now he remembers Sunday.
“I’ll do that,” Daniel tells him. “You get me out of here, and I’ll do that. Tonight. At my place. For as long as you can hold off.”
Jack feels a sudden heat suffuse his body, and the jacket of his dress blues is a good length, but he’s not sure it’s going to be long enough. “H… how many fingers?” Jack doesn’t stutter. Generals don’t stutter. It was purely a reaction to the awful wine.
Daniel looks across at Jack slowly and deliberately, his eyes an invitation to sin behind his glasses. “Three?”
Jack tries hard not to choke to death.
“Ah, Dr. Jackson, there you are. I’m sorry about the interruption. Now what were we discussing?” The unsubtle woman is back, and with a move worthy of the Avalanche’s best defenceman, puts herself between Jack and Daniel.
Jack didn’t make General without knowing when his window of opportunity was closing. “Senator,” he says, a little too loudly, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal Daniel for a little while.”
She’s good, but Jack is better. When she looks one way, Jack steps around the other and has Daniel by his sleeve before she even sets eyes on him. “A unexpected situation has arisen that requires our best man.”
“General O’Neill, surely Dr. Jackson deserves a night off once in a while,” she says with ill-concealed dislike.
“Well you know how it is when the fate of the planet is on the line,” Jack smiles, at least as insincerely as the Senator. “No rest for the… uh… rolling… stone.”
“Terribly sorry,” Daniels says, “Perhaps you could e-mail me your questions? I’d love to help.” He shrugs and gives a passable expression of concern and remorse before Jack drags him through the room, not letting go of his jacket until they are safely out of range.
“Fate of the planet?” Daniel asks quietly, easily keeping pace with Jack’s speed as they make their way toward the elevators and freedom.
“I could still go and find you some forks if you’d rather,” Jack says.
Daniel looks at him, a small, wicked smile curling around the corners of his lips. “No,” he replies, “I’m good.”
Jack walks even faster.
Fin.
So, we had a list of 31 Elvis titles to choose from. Some hardy souls have vowed to do all 31, but I was content to pick and choose, and these are the ones I came up with so far (they're all Jack and Daniel - no surprises there then):
Title - Heartbreak Hotel
Rated - PG
Warnings/Spoilers - slash, drugs (mild), humour, language.
Word Count - 1214
Author's Notes - Thanks, Snicks. All remaining mistakes are my own.
Synopsis - Daniel's feeling happy and chatty. Jack's feeling surprised. No one cares how the llama feels.
Heartbreak Hotel
Of course it would be Daniel, Jack thinks sourly as he jogs down deeply carpeted corridors to the room he and his wayward archaeologist were assigned. It couldn’t have been Teal’c (Junior would have sorted it out) or Carter (who does nothing that isn’t by the book without a sizeable kick in the ass). And after the whole marriage cake situation, Jack has learned his lesson and never accepts tasty goodies from strange aliens.
So. Daniel.
Daniel is an anthropologist first and foremost, and when someone had to drink from the ceremonial cup to seal their treaty with the Darsey, Daniel had already chugged half the mug down before Jack had time to ask if they had any decaf.
Jack made his excuses right after he saw Daniel weaving his way through the party, heading for the door with a huge smile on his face, the governor’s hat on his head, singing to himself.
“Daniel?” Jack opens their door quietly, hoping that he made it back safely and hasn’t wandered off looking for snacks or something. It looks like a set from an Arabian Nights porn flick in their room - all jewel coloured silks and gilded lanterns setting soft light and subtle shadows.
“Jack!” is the only warning he gets before he is plastered from head to foot with happy, demonstrative, half-dressed Jackson. Jack manages to kick the door shut and struggle them both over to one of the opulently appointed beds. He bounces them down as carefully as he can.
“It’s so great that you came,” Daniel says delightedly, burrowing his cold nose into Jack’s neck and hugging him tightly.
“Well, where else would I be?” Jack says lightly, subtly trying to create some distance between them with his hands, and when that doesn’t work, with his elbows and knees.
But Daniel is having none of it. He laughs like a loon and holds on tighter. Daniel tripping on alien hooch is unbelievably cute, but Jack wishes he’d let go, so he could check Daniel was just high and not showing any other symptoms. The governor guy Jack had cornered at the party was quick to assure him that the juice had no long lasting effects, and was simply something to make the drinker “joyous” but Jack would like to be sure of that.
“Whatcha been doin’, Daniel?” Jack asks, trying to distract Daniel from the koala-like hold he has on him.
“I’ve been thinking,” Daniel says, suddenly serious. “And it’s just not working out between us. I think we should break up.”
Jack stops struggling. He just sighs, stares at the ceiling and lets Daniel, well, snuggle is the only word that really does it justice. Why does this shit always happen to HIS team? “O…kay. How come?”
“Well, d’uh!” Daniel crows. “It’s an unhealthy relationship.”
“And the fact that we don’t actually HAVE a relationship?” It’s a small point, and Daniel’s obviously got it all worked out, but Jack feels he really ought to mention it in the interests of accuracy.
“Is erroneous. And beside the point. We DO have a relationship, only most of it is in my head,” Daniel tells him earnestly, taps his forehead, and then smiles. He slips his arms around Jack’s waist again and twines their legs together.
Jack can’t stop the grin that sneaks across his face that’s one part amusement, one part surprise and eight parts triumph.
“Jack?” Daniel’s voice is muffled due to the whole bodily contact thing, but Jack can hear a plaintive note in it. “Could you just have a look under the bed and see if the llama is still there?”
“Llama?”
“Yeah. Big one. Messy hair. Bad attitude.”
“There’s no llama, Daniel. Trust me on this.”
“Okay. Jack?”
“Yes, Daniel?”
“I think I might be slightly toasted.”
“Yeah, buddy. I think so,” Jack says gently, stroking Daniel’s back, hoping it will soothe him into falling asleep. Jack wants to get to the hung-over, sheepish part of this conversation that will happen in the morning. He has all kinds of questions for a sober, embarrassed, apologetic Daniel.
“But I still think we should break up.”
Shrugging mentally, Jack guesses he may as well play along. He really wants to hear why Daniel’s dumping him. “Why?”
“Well, you know. The whole unrequited thing. It’s so passé. And pathetic. Even the llama thinks so, although he’s pretty opinionated to tell you the truth. Thinks he’s SO smart.”
“So what if we UN-unrequite it?” Jack asks slowly, feeling like a bit of a heel, but it’s kind of hard to ignore that one of the hottest men at the SGC has been having a huge gay love affair with him without Jack even realising. Or benefiting. Jack thinks that’s spectacularly unfair, particularly as he’s been harbouring some pretty similar ideas himself.
“S’not a word. Un-unrequite. You can’t say that.” Daniel abruptly sits up and kind of weaves around. His hair is sticking up and his eyes are slightly unfocussed. God knows where his glasses have ended up. “Whoa!” he murmurs weakly. “Spinning.”
Jack reaches up and pulls Daniel to lay down flat on his back. “Better?”
“Nope. Ugh, God!” Daniel’s hands are clutching on to the silky covers and his eyes are tight shut. He starts to make piteous moaning sounds. “Oh, I hate this bit.”
“Are you gonna hurl, Daniel? Because we’re broken up, and therefore I’m SO not cleaning you up if you do.”
Daniel just whimpers. “Whole damn place is moving. Are you sure about the llama? I can definitely smell llama,” he mutters between whines.
Jack rolls his eyes and unlaces his boots. When he’s comfortable, in BDUs and t-shirt, he lies down beside Daniel, carefully rolls him on to his side, then wraps his arms around Daniel’s chest. “Better now?” he asks the back of Daniel’s head.
“Huh,” Daniel says, sounding surprised. “Actually…”
Jack gives Daniel a minute, waiting for him to find the right words, but nothing is forthcoming.
“Daniel? Daniel?” His answer is a definite snore. Jack shakes him a little. “Daniel? Your buddy the llama wants to know what you want for breakfast.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Daniel slurs, and then snores again.
“Daniel?”
“Shhhh! Sleeping now.”
Jack resists the urge to smack Daniel on the back of the head. Just. He rolls him onto his back and quickly checks him over like he was taught to in his Alien Intoxication 101 class and concludes that Daniel is wasted, but nothing worse.
He briefly considers going back to his own bed, but rejects this idea for several important reasons: one - he has to monitor Daniel’s vitals through the night just to be certain that he’s okay, two - he needs to be here in case Daniel wakes and has a llama related freak-out and tries to take off, and three - his bed is all the way on the other side of the room and it’s kind of warm and comfortable tucked up here with Daniel.
Jack lays back and tries out Daniel’s snuggling thing. He finds it’s pretty good, so he closes his eyes and starts thinking of reasons why he and Daniel should definitely get back together in the morning.
He only gets as far as make-up sex before he falls asleep.
Fin
Title - Change Of Habit
Rated - NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers - slash, language.
Word Count - 656
Author's Notes - Thanks to Snicks for the once over. All remaining mistakes are my own.
Synopsis - It's short. There's lasagne. Gratuitous use of the term "Danny-boy".
Change of Habit
When Daniel wakes, he isn’t surprised to find the other side of his bed empty - saddened, but not surprised. He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t wish for it to be otherwise, but he’s grateful for what he’s got. He knows just how long it’s taken Jack to even get this far. Coming to Daniel’s house for sex instead of moments snatched off-world or in little used storage closets on the base (Jack knows all the places where there’s no surveillance) has taken patience (from Daniel) and courage (from Jack). Daniel can’t bring himself to be disappointed that Jack hasn’t stayed.
He’s rolling into what he now fancifully thinks of as Jack’s pillow and trying to go back to sleep when he hears a noise.
Jack hasn’t left yet.
He’s probably still getting dressed in the living room where they ended up impatiently dragging each other’s clothes off last night.
If Daniel can catch him, maybe he can persuade him back to bed for a couple more hours.
Incentive is the key.
Daniel licks his lips, runs a hand through his hair and ignores his bath robe hanging on the back of his door as he pads to the living room. There’s no one there, but he can hear soft sounds coming from the kitchen.
Wishing he’d at least pulled on a pair of shorts, in case it turns out not to be Jack, Daniel moves quietly to peer around the doorway.
By the refrigerator light, Jack is standing as naked as Daniel, leaned against the counter. There’s a fork in his hand and he’s shovelling cold spinach lasagne into his mouth with single-minded focus.
“That’s gross,” Daniel says softly.
Jack sniggers - Daniel’s never successfully sneaked up on him yet. “I didn’t want to wake you by powering up the microwave.”
“That’s very selfless of you.” Daniel watches as Jack puts the fork and the Tupperware into the sink, closes the fridge and saunters back toward him, each movement exaggerated, calculated to make Daniel horny, which, inevitably, it does.
“Not really,” Jack says conversationally, coming to a stop right in front of Daniel, close enough that Daniel can still smell himself of Jack’s skin. “I didn’t want to wake you up with that because I wanted to wake you up with this.”
Jack goes to his knees slowly but easily, and immediately takes the head of Daniel’s cock in his mouth, still cold from his snack. He keeps his lips soft as he runs the tip of his tongue around the crown of Daniel’s hardening dick.
Daniel puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder for balance, and cups Jack’s jaw with the other. He can feel the muscles working beneath Jack’s skin, and hums appreciatively.
Jack obviously likes the response, because he slowly, deliberately slides his mouth down Daniel’s shaft until he’s as deep as he can take him.
Daniel can’t help the shudders that ripple through him. He rubs his thumb across the corner of Jack’s mouth, stretched taught around him, loving the feel of Jack’s effort to take more of him in.
“Oh God, Jack. That’s so good,” Daniel murmurs softly, widening his stance to keep himself upright. “I thought… I thought you were leaving…”
There’s an obscene pop as Jack pulls off, leaving Daniel panting and aching already. “Leaving? Are you kidding me? Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to be ready for us spending the night together? I’m not going anywhere, Danny-boy.”
Daniel can’t believe what he’s hearing. He wants to yell, he wants to tell Jack exactly how careful he’s been not to scare him off, how many times he’s had to bite back words that he thought might freak Jack out.
But Jack is licking his cock from root to tip and wrapping that big, warm palm around him and taking him in so, so slowly.
Daniel will tell him later.
Or not.
Fin
Title - A Little Less Conversation, A Little More Action
Rated - PG
Warnings - slash
Author's Notes - Ta, Snicks. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Synopsis - Jack's not getting all his memos.
A Little Less Conversation, A Little More Action
Jack doesn’t know when it happened. It must have been when he was looking the other way. One day it wasn’t there at all, and the next day, bang! Fully-fledged and ready to go.
Daniel had become a soldier.
His fingers used to fumble, never certain where they were supposed to go. His eyes used to close when he fired, his shots going wide. He used to bite his lip, his unease apparent to any casual onlooker and a gift to a hostile.
But not anymore.
Daniel is competent. He can make the hard decisions. He moves like a professional and he radiates a quiet assurance that Jack thinks makes him look pretty dangerous.
And hot as hell.
Jack wonders if it’s the macho thing that does it for him, but he remembers a time when Daniel was just a skinny, clueless dweeb, with endless questions, a big brain and a bigger heart, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t gotten off on that too.
So it’s a Daniel thing.
And Jack obviously isn’t getting all his memos, because he doesn’t know when THAT happened either.
He’ll have to think about it.
And he will.
Right after he’s finished watching a slightly sweaty Daniel, renewing his firearms certification - P-90 against his shoulder, black t-shirt stretched tight across his back, sighting the target just like Jack taught him.
He wouldn’t want to break a guy’s concentration.
Fin
Title - I Need Your Love Tonight
Rated - PG-13
Warnings - language, slash, humour.
Word Count - 176
Synopsis - For 176 words? Are you kidding me? *sigh* Love is all about give and take. And pop-tarts.
I Need Your Love Tonight
The first time Daniel wakes up to find Jack climbing into his bed, he almost brains him with his alarm clock.
The second time, he mutters and moves over, opening his arms to pull Jack into the warm spot he’s just vacated.
The third time, Daniel tells him to stop breaking into his damn apartment and gives him a key to the front door.
Jack snores if he sleeps on his back, drools if he sleeps on his side and is, to Daniel’s disgust, a morning person.
Daniel learns to tuck the blankets beneath him to stop Jack from hogging them all, and to sleep through anything up to and including a 4.5 on the Richter scale. He invests in a coffee machine that has a timer on it, so by the time Jack has finished his shower, he’s already ingested enough caffeine that he doesn’t actively try to disembowel Jack with one of his fucking Pop-tarts.
Daniel also learns what it is to be madly, stupidly, irrevocably in love.
And that he’s so, so screwed.
Fin
Title - Help Me Make It Through The Night
Rated - PG-13 (unsubtle implication of naughtiness)
Warnings - slash, humour
Authors Notes - Thanks to Snicks for the read. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Synopsis - Daniel needs a hand. Jack will do anything for a friend.
Help Me Make It Through The Night
It takes Jack a while to find him, but there’s a tightness around Daniel’s eyes and a definite forced quality to his laughter when Jack finally spots him.
The amount of diplomacy and ass-licking going on in the SGC tonight is making Jack feel edgy and slightly reckless - he never did understand the necessity for politicians. He’s yet to meet one he actually likes. The woman who has Daniel cornered, for example, could really do with a lesson in subtlety. Daniel’s not the kind of guy who reacts well to blatant. Jack knows this.
He watches as Daniel shifts his body away from hers every time she moves closer. Jack notices how nervously Daniel plays with his fingers and how his eyes won’t hold hers, even though he’s smiling and talking animatedly. These are all Danielisms for, “help!”
When her aide interrupts her, Jack sees his chance.
Daniel smiles politely as she tell him that she’ll be back in just a moment, but Jack is there before the smile has even faded.
“Having fun?”
“If it were this or sticking forks in my legs, I’d go with the forks,” Daniel says, his voice low and his expression bland, never giving away that he’s in any way disgruntled.
“That’s too bad. We could really use her goodwill,” Jack says sounding so serious, he almost has himself fooled.
Daniel sighs quietly and sips his wine.
“Of course, I suppose…”
Daniel’s eyes are instantly alert and he licks his lips. “Anything, Jack, just get me out of here.”
“Yeah?”
Jack must have given away his intent in the tone of his voice, because Daniel’s eyes flicker to him speculatively.
“So what’s it worth?”
“How do you mean?” Daniel asks carefully.
“I can get you out of the party, Daniel. For a price.”
“What do you want?” Daniel growls a little and Jack has to cover a small shiver with a sip of his government funded Chardonnay.
“What have you got?” Jack likes to live dangerously.
Daniel thinks for a moment. “You remember Sunday?”
“Yeeeees,” Jack hedges even though he knows damn well that Daniel sees through him every time.
“That… thing you liked?” Daniel elaborates with a significant and rather sexy lift to his eyebrow.
“You’ll have to be more specific, Daniel. I like a lot of things.”
A flicker of irritation crosses Daniel’s face before he smiles graciously across the room at one of the crowd of international sycophants. “The thing with the fingers,” he murmurs as he waves a hand in friendly recognition.
Jack clutches at his wine glass involuntarily, catching himself just before he breaks the stem.
Now he remembers Sunday.
“I’ll do that,” Daniel tells him. “You get me out of here, and I’ll do that. Tonight. At my place. For as long as you can hold off.”
Jack feels a sudden heat suffuse his body, and the jacket of his dress blues is a good length, but he’s not sure it’s going to be long enough. “H… how many fingers?” Jack doesn’t stutter. Generals don’t stutter. It was purely a reaction to the awful wine.
Daniel looks across at Jack slowly and deliberately, his eyes an invitation to sin behind his glasses. “Three?”
Jack tries hard not to choke to death.
“Ah, Dr. Jackson, there you are. I’m sorry about the interruption. Now what were we discussing?” The unsubtle woman is back, and with a move worthy of the Avalanche’s best defenceman, puts herself between Jack and Daniel.
Jack didn’t make General without knowing when his window of opportunity was closing. “Senator,” he says, a little too loudly, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal Daniel for a little while.”
She’s good, but Jack is better. When she looks one way, Jack steps around the other and has Daniel by his sleeve before she even sets eyes on him. “A unexpected situation has arisen that requires our best man.”
“General O’Neill, surely Dr. Jackson deserves a night off once in a while,” she says with ill-concealed dislike.
“Well you know how it is when the fate of the planet is on the line,” Jack smiles, at least as insincerely as the Senator. “No rest for the… uh… rolling… stone.”
“Terribly sorry,” Daniels says, “Perhaps you could e-mail me your questions? I’d love to help.” He shrugs and gives a passable expression of concern and remorse before Jack drags him through the room, not letting go of his jacket until they are safely out of range.
“Fate of the planet?” Daniel asks quietly, easily keeping pace with Jack’s speed as they make their way toward the elevators and freedom.
“I could still go and find you some forks if you’d rather,” Jack says.
Daniel looks at him, a small, wicked smile curling around the corners of his lips. “No,” he replies, “I’m good.”
Jack walks even faster.
Fin.