Self-Preservation (Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill)
Title: Self-Preservation
Author: cinaed
Fandom: SG-1
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jack O'Neill/Daniel Jackson
Summary: Jack O'Neill is not as well practiced at the art of self-preservation as he would like.
Author's Notes: This is my first Jack/Daniel fic. And it was going to be angsty, but then it turned into a fluff fic. Haha. Set sometime after "Forever In A Day."
Word Count: 919
Most people saw Jack O'Neill as a good-natured, practical joker who didn't have an ounce of common sense and a bit of a temper. That was all right. Most days Jack agreed with them.
Still, he had good instincts -- surviving all these years against the Goa'uld proved that -- and really, in those split-seconds between getting blasted in the chest by a Jaffa and surviving without a scratch, good instincts topped common sense any day of the week.
Still, sometimes Jack wished he was better at the art of self-preservation. That he could retire and live peacefully, far away from the staff weapons and death gliders and Jaffa and Goa'uld. Life would be simpler and less painful, he suspected, but he also realized it would be very boring. What would he do without adrenaline surging through his veins, his mind skittering from one quicksilver thought to another, weighing his options and acting on his instincts?
And then there was Daniel. Daniel, who possibly had even less common sense than Jack but who didn't have a lick of instinct to keep himself safe. Which meant Jack had to use his instincts to keep them both safe. Which Jack managed, mostly, aside from the whole Daniel dying from time to time (Jack had to content himself with the fact that he was always resurrected). Daniel, whose mind raced even more furiously than Jack's, although it raced through thoughts of history and facts found in dusty books rather than ways to keep them both alive. Daniel, who was incredibly infuriating and undeniably brilliant and utterly, utterly Daniel.
If Jack had an ounce of common sense, he would have never let Daniel join SG-1. He would have instead forced the other man behind some safe desk, far away from the Jaffa and life-or-death situations, because that would mean Jack never had to worry about him, never had to see the other man's blood, see those blue eyes filled with pain. Yes, life would have been simpler then as well, but as Jack realized a long time ago, he was not well practiced at the art of self-preservation.
Then again, Jack suspected that any attempt on his part to keep Daniel away from the Stargate project would have been futile. Daniel was as stubborn as he was brilliant, and he would have gone to hell and back to find Sha'rae. And there was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? No matter how many times Jack stood side-by-side with him, no matter how many times Jack stood on the edge of hell with him, Daniel would be always looking behind him, towards a specter with Sha'rae's hair and eyes and soft voice.
If Jack was not such a neophyte at the art of self-preservation, he would have taken a firm grasp on his heart and told himself during that year after Abydos that he didn't miss Daniel, and he would have forced himself to believe it. He would have been gruff and unfriendly when Daniel had joined the SG-1, keeping their relationship cool and distant. He would have done everything in his power to crush this dangerous sensation that felt all too much like infatuation and something akin to love. But he had never had a lick of common sense, and so he hadn't done any of those things.
Besides, even if Daniel ever did move past Sha'rae, there was a snowball's chance in hell that he'd move past her towards Jack. And even if there was a chance, the barest, smallest chance, there was also the whole 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' policy. The Stargate program had enough issues with idiotic politicians mucking everything up, they didn't need to drag the whole 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' policy into the mix. It was better, smarter, safer to just remain friends.
And if Jack had had just an atom of common sense, he would have remembered that when a few weeks after Sha'rae's death at Teal'c's hands, Daniel had showed up at his doorstep, wavering and red-eyed and hoarse-voiced and practically falling down drunk. Even if Jack hadn't been able to smell the whiskey on his breath, he would have known the other man was drunk by the slur to his words and the hesitation with which he spoke, because Daniel was never hesitant.
But when Daniel took a deep breath and pressed a faltering, almost tremulous kiss against his lips, his mouth tasting overwhelmingly of whiskey, all thoughts had flown out of Jack's head and instinct had taken over. Instinct, of course, had made him kiss Daniel back, hungry and possessive, made him press Daniel against the door-frame and pin him there, never mind that Daniel was drunk and probably didn't know what he was doing.
This would probably blow up in their faces, Jack knew. There was the 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' policy, there was the fact that they were both in constant life-or-death situations, there were a million reasons why this was doomed to crash and burn. But all his instincts were telling him to screw 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell', screw all the things that told him to step away from Daniel and tell him that he was drunk and that he needed to go home and sleep it off. His instincts were telling him to kiss Daniel hard and unleash all the inner longings that had been building in his chest for years.
And as Jack had learned over the years, good instincts trumped common sense every day of the week.
Author: cinaed
Fandom: SG-1
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jack O'Neill/Daniel Jackson
Summary: Jack O'Neill is not as well practiced at the art of self-preservation as he would like.
Author's Notes: This is my first Jack/Daniel fic. And it was going to be angsty, but then it turned into a fluff fic. Haha. Set sometime after "Forever In A Day."
Word Count: 919
Most people saw Jack O'Neill as a good-natured, practical joker who didn't have an ounce of common sense and a bit of a temper. That was all right. Most days Jack agreed with them.
Still, he had good instincts -- surviving all these years against the Goa'uld proved that -- and really, in those split-seconds between getting blasted in the chest by a Jaffa and surviving without a scratch, good instincts topped common sense any day of the week.
Still, sometimes Jack wished he was better at the art of self-preservation. That he could retire and live peacefully, far away from the staff weapons and death gliders and Jaffa and Goa'uld. Life would be simpler and less painful, he suspected, but he also realized it would be very boring. What would he do without adrenaline surging through his veins, his mind skittering from one quicksilver thought to another, weighing his options and acting on his instincts?
And then there was Daniel. Daniel, who possibly had even less common sense than Jack but who didn't have a lick of instinct to keep himself safe. Which meant Jack had to use his instincts to keep them both safe. Which Jack managed, mostly, aside from the whole Daniel dying from time to time (Jack had to content himself with the fact that he was always resurrected). Daniel, whose mind raced even more furiously than Jack's, although it raced through thoughts of history and facts found in dusty books rather than ways to keep them both alive. Daniel, who was incredibly infuriating and undeniably brilliant and utterly, utterly Daniel.
If Jack had an ounce of common sense, he would have never let Daniel join SG-1. He would have instead forced the other man behind some safe desk, far away from the Jaffa and life-or-death situations, because that would mean Jack never had to worry about him, never had to see the other man's blood, see those blue eyes filled with pain. Yes, life would have been simpler then as well, but as Jack realized a long time ago, he was not well practiced at the art of self-preservation.
Then again, Jack suspected that any attempt on his part to keep Daniel away from the Stargate project would have been futile. Daniel was as stubborn as he was brilliant, and he would have gone to hell and back to find Sha'rae. And there was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? No matter how many times Jack stood side-by-side with him, no matter how many times Jack stood on the edge of hell with him, Daniel would be always looking behind him, towards a specter with Sha'rae's hair and eyes and soft voice.
If Jack was not such a neophyte at the art of self-preservation, he would have taken a firm grasp on his heart and told himself during that year after Abydos that he didn't miss Daniel, and he would have forced himself to believe it. He would have been gruff and unfriendly when Daniel had joined the SG-1, keeping their relationship cool and distant. He would have done everything in his power to crush this dangerous sensation that felt all too much like infatuation and something akin to love. But he had never had a lick of common sense, and so he hadn't done any of those things.
Besides, even if Daniel ever did move past Sha'rae, there was a snowball's chance in hell that he'd move past her towards Jack. And even if there was a chance, the barest, smallest chance, there was also the whole 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' policy. The Stargate program had enough issues with idiotic politicians mucking everything up, they didn't need to drag the whole 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' policy into the mix. It was better, smarter, safer to just remain friends.
And if Jack had had just an atom of common sense, he would have remembered that when a few weeks after Sha'rae's death at Teal'c's hands, Daniel had showed up at his doorstep, wavering and red-eyed and hoarse-voiced and practically falling down drunk. Even if Jack hadn't been able to smell the whiskey on his breath, he would have known the other man was drunk by the slur to his words and the hesitation with which he spoke, because Daniel was never hesitant.
But when Daniel took a deep breath and pressed a faltering, almost tremulous kiss against his lips, his mouth tasting overwhelmingly of whiskey, all thoughts had flown out of Jack's head and instinct had taken over. Instinct, of course, had made him kiss Daniel back, hungry and possessive, made him press Daniel against the door-frame and pin him there, never mind that Daniel was drunk and probably didn't know what he was doing.
This would probably blow up in their faces, Jack knew. There was the 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' policy, there was the fact that they were both in constant life-or-death situations, there were a million reasons why this was doomed to crash and burn. But all his instincts were telling him to screw 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell', screw all the things that told him to step away from Daniel and tell him that he was drunk and that he needed to go home and sleep it off. His instincts were telling him to kiss Daniel hard and unleash all the inner longings that had been building in his chest for years.
And as Jack had learned over the years, good instincts trumped common sense every day of the week.