"Laundry Tags" (SG-1, J/D)

[lokei]

Laundry Tags
By Lokei
Universe: SG-1, season 7
Rating: Rlite, J/D
For PrincessofG, because it’s all her fault.


= = = = =

“Daniel Jackson.”

The archaeologist looked up from where he was catching up on a year’s worth of backdated archaeological journals to see Teal’c’s form looming in his base-bedroom doorway, with the slighter shadows of Sam and Jack hovering in the hallway behind.

“Hey guys,” Daniel nodded his acquiescence, newly recovered memories assuring him that when his team showed up in a pack like this, his previous plans for downtime could be safely assumed to be a bust. “What’s up?”

“You cannot continue to wear the apparel of the SGC.”

“I beg your pardon?” Daniel frowned. Was there some memory here he was missing?

Jack elbowed Teal’c aside. “What the big guy means is, you’ve got to have some new clothes of your own, to replace your old stuff, you know? You can’t just keep swanning around in BDU’s on your downtime, or people won’t remember that you have a life outside the mountain.”

Daniel raised his eyebrows at this assertion, considering that outside the mountain he was still pretty much assumed dead, and Jack flushed but refused to look contrite.

“You need some new clothes, Daniel,” he reiterated.

Daniel looked down at the gray sweater which was one of the few items of clothing Jack had kept among Daniel’s other personal belongings, and quietly agreed that it didn’t really go with olive BDU pants. He sighed. “So you all decided you needed to tell me this en masse?”

“We’re going to take you shopping!” That was Sam, naturally. Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m supposed to be getting a paycheck next week, Sam, I’ll take care of the wardrobe thing then, okay? You guys surely all have better things to do with your downtime than drag me to the nearest soul-sucking department store.”

Jack tipped his head to one side as if considering. “Nope. Not so much.”

Daniel looked from Teal’c’s barely suppressed amusement to Sam’s wide grin to the twinkle in Jack’s eyes and surrendered. “Right. Can we at least go somewhere without insane mark-ups and snooty attendants?”

“Aw, but Teal’c loves those kinds of places,” Jack ribbed as he gestured extravagantly to the door.

“And yet,” Daniel smirked back, gently.

“Perhaps we may reach a compromise,” Teal’c intoned as they all headed for the elevators.

Daniel made a noncommittal noise and watched in silent amusement as the only compromise that was reached was that Jack would be taking Teal’c to the mall, and Sam would take Daniel, but only because they all knew that Daniel would end up staying the night at Jack’s house. So far this was at least the third blatantly obvious excuse Jack had used to get Daniel out of the mountain since regaining his memories and surviving the completely insane infiltration mission. Sam and Teal’c had been only slightly more subtle in their methods of appropriating the newly returned archaeologist’s time. Daniel might have found all the attention smothering if it weren’t for the fact that he secretly was really enjoying it. There was something heady about being missed and wanted. So if they insisted on making a grand production out of clothes shopping and dinner, Daniel was going to let them.

Daniel startled a little out of his train of thought as Sam turned the key in the ignition and her radio started blaring rock music at a somewhat scary decibel level. Sam winced and reached to change the channel but Daniel caught at her hand and shook his head.

“You don’t want me to switch to classical?”

Daniel grinned and rolled down the window. “Nope.”

Sam shot him a look, then grinned back and gunned the engine, pealing down the exit road from Cheyenne at a pace sure to flabbergast the Colonel. Daniel chuckled quietly into the wind and leaned his head back and tried not to remember that he once knew how it felt to fly like this without wheels.

By the time they hit the mall, Jack had passed Sam twice and she had passed him again both times, and Daniel was too busy gripping the holy-shit handle over his head to feel melancholy. Why had he agreed to ride with Sam again?

Blessed solid ground of the parking lot, and Daniel didn’t care anymore. Teal’c appropriated Sam to discuss Tau’ri flight maneuvers-probably checking up on some of Jack’s tall tales-and Daniel was left to stroll slowly behind them, beside Jack, taking in the sights and sounds of a mid-afternoon at the mall.

Jack was mercifully quiet, seemingly okay with weird mid-week downtimes that left four fully employed adults wandering into the local TJ Maxx at sometime after 3 pm. He lost a little bit of his placid good humor when he realized that letting Carter and Teal’c get ahead of himself and Daniel meant that the two dangerous shoppers had had time to scope the store and set out a plan involving systematic search and destroy tactics without interference from the sane half of this foursome.

“Jeans, casual shirts,” Sam declared, pointing at Daniel and then at Jack. “Dress slacks, nice shirts,” she pointed at herself and Teal’c. “And Daniel-- Nothing stodgy.”

Daniel folded his arms. “Excuse me?”

“She means no tweed, Daniel,” Jack sighed. “C’mon. Or Carter’s going to start measuring your inseam.”

Daniel bit back a sigh. “Right. Jeans and khakis.”

“This way,” Jack gave him a little shove at the small of his back and Daniel shook his head, moving into the brightly lit rows of assorted clothing carefully, eyes shifting back and forth quickly, shoulders unconsciously tensed.

“There are no Jaffa patrols in the men’s casual section, Daniel,” Jack’s voice tipped into Daniel’s ear laced with amusement. “You can relax a little, you know.”

Daniel huffed but felt his shoulders lower fractionally. He began to think he would survive this whole adventure, and held tightly to that optimism even as his eyebrows crept slowly but steadily higher at some of the options hanging on the racks.

“People wear some of this stuff?”

Jack shrugged, deep in perusal of a pair of pants that appeared to be made entirely of pockets. “They’re not all bad. Try these.” He shoved a pair of slacks Daniel’s way that he had tucked under his arm.

“These…actually look pretty decent.” Daniel utterly failed to keep the surprise out of his voice, but it was alright, because when Jack caught it, he merely stuck his tongue out at the archaeologist and moved further down the row.

Daniel chuckled and followed. By the time they’d hit the end of their assigned section, with Jack’s assistance, he had an armful of possibilities and was being enthusiastically shooed into the dressing room before Sam could catch up to him with her own scary pile.

“Jack…” Daniel pled with his eyes as he fled towards safety. Surely Jack could fix this. He’d been married here on Earth and had experience surviving the twentieth century shopping woman.

“I’m on it. No more than seven by the time I’m done, I swear,” Jack promised, flapping his hands. Daniel overheard the first part of Jack’s interference as he rounded the corner.

“Aht! Laundry tags, Carter. No ‘dry clean only,’ no ironing.”

By the time Daniel had found tolerable jeans, Jack had actually managed to whittle Sam’s scary pile down to five, and Teal’c had been relegated to putting the rejects back on the racks.

“Prince among Men, Jack,” Daniel murmured as he swapped armfuls of clothes with the older man and ducked back into the red-curtained recesses.

- - - - -

Meanwhile, Jack was in his own special version of hell. There was a reason he had avoided doing this kind of thing with Sara as much as possible-the only benefit to him in most of those shopping expeditions was getting to hang out in front of the dressing rooms and wolf-whistle when she’d come out to show him something, whether he liked it or not. Jack didn’t think Daniel would appreciate wolf-whistling, and besides, all those pants were sliding on and off those legs without a single spin or sashay out into the public area, and even Jack didn’t think he could carry off barging into the dressing rooms just to offer his services as pants-hanger extraordinaire.

Probably not, anyway.

Jack resigned himself to at least another half hour of torture-there was no way Carter was going to let Daniel out of this store without at least a half dozen shirts, and if Sara was any model, that meant poor Daniel would have to try on at least fifteen. And while all that was going on, Jack would be stuck out here fingering women’s scarves on the accessories rack and trying really hard not to look like he was desperate to leave, to take Daniel and drive even faster than Carter, drive back to his house and ply the archaeologist with steak and wine and stargazing.

Jack scowled and wandered a little further from the dressing rooms, past the socks to the area with all the funny bottles of shower gel and stuff. He clicked some of the lids open and shut, sniffed a few, and was contemplating what kind of moron would want to walk out of their shower smelling like coconut and melon when a hesitant “What do you think?” spun him right around.

Daniel, bless his all-too-often deplorable fashion sense, had actually found a pair of pants that hung off him like a bespoke suit. Technically, Jack supposed, Carter had found them, but she was currently staring at Daniel with far too much stardust in her eyes to claim the credit for the vision in black tee shirt and soft gray standing perfectly still before them. Teal’c wore an approving smile under the rim of his most recent fedora, Carter was practically drooling, but it was Jack that Daniel’s eyes sought, a question behind the flash of his glasses.
Jack swallowed and gave a thumbs-up.

“Yeah?” Daniel looked down at himself and up again with a rueful shrug. “Don’t remember owning any pants quite this nice before, so I thought I’d check.”

Years ago, that kind of statement would have been accompanied by a ducked head and a shuffle of feet, but this Daniel didn’t seem to have any trouble holding himself still and tall under the admiring gazes of his teammates. Jack thought it suited him, however dearly won the inner peace. He nodded.

“Go with those,” he said. “Carter, you said something about shirts?” At the renewed gleam in her eye, he added, “Teal’c, I think we’re going to need a cart.”

At that, Daniel’s eyes went wide, and Jack grinned. “We’ll call it Christmas shopping, okay?”

Daniel rolled his eyes and strolled back into the changing room, hands in his pockets. Jack watched carefully, shook himself, and went back to scrutinizing shower gel smells until Teal’c materialized at his elbow.

“I have found myself partial to the eucalyptus and peppermint,” the large man opined. Jack nodded absently and tossed it in on top of the stack of pants Daniel deposited just before Teal’c rolled majestically away to join Carter at the bins of button downs across the store.

Daniel stuck his hands back into the pockets of his BDU pants and tipped his head at Jack with a small smile. “Are you going to manhandle me through the shirt racks now?”

Jack flexed his fingers and put on a menacing look, which made Daniel smirk. Jack gave up with a grin. “Never did work with you, did it?”

“Nope.” Daniel tossed a look over his shoulder as he strolled away and Jack just shook his head and followed, warmed in inexplicable ways.

He didn’t hit trouble until they were rounding the last rack of knits. The very next section was boxers and sleepwear, and Jack’s breath caught with an odd hitch as he realized that he hadn’t saved any of that kind of stuff from Daniel’s wardrobe before.

Daniel glanced over and made a ‘hmm’ noise. “Yeah, uniform briefs. Not the comfiest things in the world. I’ve been sleeping in that pair of sweatpants you loaned me when I first got back-probably need a few others though. Let me know if you find anything good?”

And he turned his attention back to polo shirts or something, leaving Jack pole-axed in the middle of the aisle.

Daniel was sleeping in Jack’s sweatpants? Daniel was admitting this in public? The Daniel who returned from Abydos with only slightly more to wear than Arrom the Naked One would not even have admitted he slept, let alone that he needed clothes for sleeping. What was Daniel getting at here? The Daniel who didn’t even know he was married couldn’t be flirting with Jack, could he? The Daniel who only regained his memories-most of them, he thought-a mere handful of days ago couldn’t be up for muddying the waters, could he? Not when they’d steered a more or less safe course for years as friends.

Blindly, Jack turned towards the racks and ran his hands across the hanging fabrics, realizing that he’d look like an idiot if he stood in the aisle staring at Daniel any longer. The first pass of his fingers barely registered, but on the second swipe of skin over cloth, his fingers caught on something smoother and Jack looked down to figure out what he was feeling. Silk Superman-print boxers. Jack snorted. Appropriate, and yet, somehow not.

He let his fingers trail a little further until they snagged against another kind of softness-flannel pajama pants, navy blue with a discreet narrow crimson pinstripe. Classy, in a cozy kind of way. At least they weren’t covered in teddy bears or clouds or any of the other odd things one encountered on the ladies’ half of the store. Somehow Jack had a life-sized picture of Daniel in teddy bear pajamas, smirking hard just before exacting some terrible, inescapable Daniel Jackson-ish revenge. Jack shuddered, and must have made a noise because Daniel himself looked over again.

“Not bad,” the archaeologist said, before turning away once more, and Jack had to blink because his mind was still on the dreaded teddy bears and not the navy and crimson in his hand.
He rubbed his fingers over it further, enjoying how easily it warmed to his touch. He could see Daniel in something like this, curled up with a cup of coffee and a tome, Sunday morning on the couch. That it was Jack’s couch wasn’t at all surprising. Jack knew himself to be disturbingly domestic, and as many secrets as Jack had tried to keep from himself in his lifetime, that he wanted Daniel around and comfortable in his space was never one of them. Speaking of which, where was Jack in this picture, with the flannel and the coffee and the quiet? Ah yes-sitting on the other end of the couch, planning how to get his hands on and underneath the flannel. That wasn’t all that surprising either.

Jack slid one hand up the leg of the pants in his hand, the other over the outside, savoring the way body warmth seeped through the fabric first, a general impression of comfort, and then how the details pressed through the thin cloth-contours of muscle and bone, the shape and sinews of a human body covered but not concealed. Daniel’s leg would feel like this, warm and toned by all that mission-required exercise, long and lazy in repose. Daniel would look up at him with a question in his eyes, and answer Jack’s own question with a smile and a stretch of that lazy leg into easier reach. Quiet. Comfortable.

Jack came back to the present and realized he’d been contemplating this particular pair of pants just a bit too long. He wasn’t ready to let go of them just yet, though, so he tucked them over his arm and kept going, judiciously circling around the edge of the rack to keep two rows of clothes between himself and Daniel’s too-perceptive gaze. He let his fingers wander, figuring, hey, it had worked once already, and this time found himself ‘hung up’ by a pair of pants that were a dark gray satin. In another mood and another time, Jack might have waved them at Carter with a joke about the Tollan-but thank god he was not so careless with her emotions as he once had been, and besides, she was almost the last thing on his mind at this moment.

The satin rippled under his fingers, cool and alluring, sliding like water under his touch. Sara had had a blue satin nightgown Jack had loved. Somehow it always stayed cool under his roving hands. Jack suspected that was because he never let her wear it long enough to warm it up, but something about how smooth it was surely also had something to do with it. Daniel would have a theory, something anthropological about textures and the way cultures relate to skin and textiles, and while he was at it he’d probably have some explanation to do with the historical uses of satin in fashion or gender roles or something. And Jack would ignore him utterly in favor of watching him, Daniel in dark gray satin-shirtless, barefoot, leaning in the bedroom doorway and lecturing, holding back a smirk every time Jack interrupted him when he paused for breath to find a new way to coax him a step closer, another step-

Someone was standing in front of him. Jack blinked.

- - - - -

Daniel had finally located a half-dozen shirts he thought would pass the Sam And Janet Approval Rating and was utterly relieved that he was basically done with this ‘mission.’ He’d been giving himself a running commentary-mostly silent, but not entirely-about just how bizarrely normal this all was, though that wasn’t quite the phrase for it. ‘Disturbingly domestic’ was more like it. Shopping? With his team? When not that long ago he had apparently been floating around the cosmos as a conscious cloud of light, and even more recently been toting a gun, saving the world, yadda yadda? It was odd, but somehow comforting, and since Jack had been surprisingly silent during most of Daniel’s quiet commentary, apparently he agreed.
Daniel picked up the forest green shirt, the one he was most unsure about, and went round the rack to get Jack’s opinion, only to find the man practically caressing a pair of gray sleep pants and looking at him with what could only be termed a speculative gaze.

At least, Daniel thought Jack was looking at him. The linguist managed to get pretty darn close before Jack seemed to register that Daniel was actually there. The colonel blinked, and Daniel was reasonably sure that his cheeks were just a tinge pinker than they had been a moment before. The ears definitely were, Daniel decided, which in turn decided him.

He’d been trying to place that unfinished feeling he got around Jack since his return. Like he was looking for a sign-maybe had always been looking for a sign. It was a familiar kind of ‘missing,’ not like the utter blankness of no memories at all, more like a puzzle where you knew where all the edges were but the center of the picture was still all jumbled.

But Jack was blushing -though he’d surely deny it-and all of a sudden the picture came clear, even if the pieces weren’t quite snapped into place yet.

Daniel felt a knowing smirk creep across his face and decided not to hide it. “Find something good, Jack?”

“Yeah,” the colonel breathed, and then blinked again and stammered. “Yeah, maybe, sorta-not the sort of thing you wear often-or maybe you do-but I haven’t looked at the washing instructions.”

It was Daniel’s turn to blink and grin. Really, when was the last time he’d seen Jack that flustered? Daniel opted for increasing the flustered quotient if possible. He gave the pants now clutched in Jack’s hands a measured glance.

“Oh, no need,” he said casually, “That’s the sort that’s always something like ‘hand wash warm water, lay flat to dry.’” He met Jack’s eyes for an equally measured glance, then snatched the flannels out from Jack’s other arm.

“I’ll definitely take these-think the others are worth the trouble?”

- - - - -

It was as if Daniel had read Jack’s mind-he would keep their comfortable, warm flannel friendship for sure, but was also called by the possibility of something else represented by that seductive, slippery satin. Jack was positive that Daniel knew exactly what he was offering; the man had been and had played oblivious in the past, but not for a very long time, and this exchange removed any doubt that he’d had about whether Daniel had been flirting with him earlier as well. ‘Hand wash warm water, lay flat to dry?’ That brought up all kinds of interesting images. Maybe Daniel needed towels as well? They could test-drive his new eucalyptus shower gel.

Jack’s mouth was dry and he swallowed hard, meeting Daniel’s eyes just in time to see them shutter. Wait-what? Why?

“Hey Daniel, Teal’c and I found you some perfect shirts, I think. Sixteen, thirty-four thirty-five, right?”

Oh.

Jack turned and leaned surreptitiously against the rack to conceal the object of his previous fascination. He didn’t need to hear Carter’s assessment of Daniel in satin, or to field the Eyebrow of Inquisition. Inwardly cursing her timing, Jack smiled.

“Carter, would that be your definition of perfect, T’s, or Daniel’s? Not that you aren’t all models of fashion in your own ways; but those ways don’t necessarily agree.”

Carter rolled her eyes. “Funny, sir. Now Daniel, you really need to come over here and let me know which ones you like best-“ and off and away she dragged him, leaving the weight of somethings unsaid hanging in the air behind them.

Jack frowned. “Let’s wrap it up, kids. There are steaks to be grilled and they aren’t getting grilled while we’re standing here.”

- - - - -

Four appalling bags of clothing later, Daniel was re-ensconced in Sam’s passenger seat reminding himself that he did get paid for this whole saving the planet thing, and that he didn’t hate her for her rotten timing. The ride to Jack’s was fortunately entirely taken up by Sam’s cheerful chatter, and why is it that after all these years Daniel was only just now finding out that shopping made Sam giddy, for god’s sake? Motorcycles, he knew about, and physics, and Cassie’s latest adventures. But shopping? How ridiculously mundane, and yet rather endearing. And he was rather enormously grateful that she’d commandeered him for the ride to Jack’s. Daniel couldn’t quite imagine having the possible upcoming conversation-or not having it-in the truck, with the specter of dinner to get through with Teal’c and Sam playing unconscious censors hanging overhead.

Not that dinner wasn’t likely to be rough anyway, but Daniel steeled himself with the thought that if this was what he thought it was, a few hours difference over the course of so many years (and deaths) was survivable.

Assuming he also survived Teal’c’s requested fashion show.

The Jaffa had taken control of Daniel’s packages as soon as Sam rolled up in front of the colonel’s house, and was now declaring that it was Daniel’s duty to pick at least one outfit to display, apparently as some Americanized version of a traditional Chulak victory mummery. Daniel doubted this assertion in the extreme, but also knew he was not going to win this argument, and so entertained himself as he strolled towards Jack’s spare bedroom with the image of Bra’tac wearing a Morris dancer’s outfit, complete with bells around the shins and ribbons on his biceps.

The pile of bags was on the bed, and Daniel spread the five of them out so he could figure out what was in each one.

Wait-five?

Daniel shoved aside the ones that looked familiar and pulled the last one closer to him to peek inside. He caught his breath and upended the bag, shaking out the contents with a similarly shaking hand.

Gray satin pajama pants.

Wow. Oh-well, wow. Daniel ran a fingertip back and forth as softly as an archaeological brush over their softly shining surface, realizing he was thinking in onomatopoeia. Ss. Ss. Ss.

So close.

Promise.

Say yes.

Gulping hard, Daniel blindly grabbed a top and slacks and changed, determined to get this purgatory over with as quickly as possible. As soon as the steaks were well eaten, he would shoo Teal’c and Sam out personally, if necessary.

- - - - -

“Do you require any further assistance, O’Neill?”

Jack glanced around at the spotless kitchen. “Nah, Teal’c, I think you and Daniel got everything. Very efficient of you.”

Out of the corner of his eye Jack hoped that what he saw was an impatient bounce from Daniel, but he couldn’t be sure. The man had had a lot of coffee, and hadn’t yet built up his caffeine tolerance to his pre-glowy levels. Jack knew he was grasping at straws anyway-he’d been on the lookout for any sign from Daniel that he’d seen Jack’s addition to the day’s spoils, but Daniel had been annoyingly normal, and continued to be.

Daniel made another restless movement, then gestured towards the kitchen door. “I’m just going to-ah-get a little air. I’ll bring the grill in to scrub on my way back.” And he was out to the backyard like a shot.

Well, that wasn’t quite normal. Jack raised his eyebrows at Teal’c.

“I have observed that since his return, Daniel Jackson requires more time in solitude than he did previously,” Teal’c rumbled quietly. “Though I no longer must kel’no’reem for my health, I continue to do so. I invited Daniel Jackson to accompany me recently when he displayed similar unease, but he declined. In his words, he stated that he needed time to be ‘alone in his skin.’ I did not believe it wise to press him at the time.”

“The world is too much with us, late and soon,” Jack murmured, looking out the window at the solitary figure in the twilight.

“What was that, sir?” Carter had arrived in the kitchen, bearing the last of the coffee cups.

“William Wordsworth,” Teal’c answered. Jack hid a grin. Daniel had gone on a campaign to introduce Teal’c to some literary classics not long before Kelowna, and Teal’c had taken up poetry with a curious determination, and a fascination almost as deep as that he held for his beloved tabloids.

“Sir?” Carter looked to him for clarification. “What’s Daniel doing in the backyard?”

“Unwinding,” Jack replied. “Teal’c here seems to think we may have smothered him in our team-ly affections this afternoon, and he needs some space.”

“Oh!” Carter, bless her enthusiastic and affectionate soul where Daniel was concerned, looked immediately contrite. “We should go, then, so you can kick back. We can do the movie some other time.”

“Sounds good,” Jack agreed, inwardly cheering. “I’ll head out there in a bit and see if I can get him to crash voluntarily before he does so accidentally.”

Carter finished rinsing the mugs and stuck them in the dish drainer. “Let-let him know I had fun this afternoon, would you, sir?”

Jack smirked. “I think he noticed, Carter. But I will.” He paused. “You two did good today. Unwinding or not, I think he’s doing better than he was this morning.”

Carter flashed him a brilliant smile and headed off to fetch her purse. Teal’c smiled too-and that was still a kinda new thing, so Jack was impressed despite himself. He saw them off and returned to his vigil at the kitchen window, wondering how long Daniel would need in his own skin before he might be persuaded to turn his attention to someone else’s. Namely Jack’s, of course.

Patience, Jack reminded himself. A few more minutes added on to several years was not going to turn his hair any grayer.

Probably.

Jack put on another pot of hot water. Daniel had taken up tea in the evenings-the caffeine thing, apparently-so Jack figured maybe by the time the water boiled Daniel would be back.
He wasn’t. So Jack brewed the tea. Still out there.

Screw patience, Jack sighed. Maybe he would be more patient if he were outside himself, so he picked up Daniel’s tea and his own and headed outside.

Daniel was leaning back against the porch railing from the lawn, looking up. Jack put the tea mug on the railing beside him, then went to sit on the chair behind Daniel on the opposite side. That way if Daniel didn’t want to acknowledge him, he wouldn’t even have to make eye contact when he picked up the tea.

There was a long moment watching the steam curl upwards in silent stereo from two untouched mugs, then Daniel stirred, picked up his tea, and turned around to nod at Jack. “Thanks.”
Jack nodded back. “Carter and Teal’c have headed out, said to say they’d had fun this afternoon.”

Daniel snorted, which made Jack smirk all over again, and turned back to look up at the places where the stars were just starting to peek through. They sat and stood in a comfortable quiet a while longer, then Daniel shook himself all over, and moved to sit at the steps near Jack’s feet.

“Don’t blame you,” Jack murmured into the evening stillness. “Carter got pretty intense today. Surprised me, actually.”

Daniel raised an eloquent eyebrow. “You were surprised Sam got intensely enthusiastic about something?”

It was Jack’s turn to snort. “Fair enough. Even so, sorry if we all sorta crowded you today. I know you had other plans.”

Daniel waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing that hadn’t already waited a year and can wait a few more days.” He plucked at the folds of his jeans. “Besides, it was-“ Daniel frowned. “It was kind of nice, actually. Having you all around and stuff.”

Jack’s lips twitched as Daniel’s frown deepened. He was going to tease the linguist about his flights of verbal eloquence, but found himself saying instead, “When Sara and I were first married, she used to drag me out shopping, and I made a big fuss over it, pretending like I hated it, finding a way to get her a surprise even if we were supposed to be shopping for me.” Jack shrugged. “Haven’t really thought about those trips in a long time, until today.”

Daniel traced the rim of his mug with a slow fingertip. “You know, when I stayed behind on Abydos, I had pretty much nothing but the clothes I was wearing and a few supplies you guys left behind. I had to borrow some robes from some of Skaara’s cousins-they fit, mostly, but one of the first conversations I managed to understand with Sha’re that didn’t have to do with Ra was about those robes. She told me that they shamed her, that they meant she was not being a good wife, and she stayed up late for ages, making me new ones, even though I told her I didn’t mind.” Daniel chuckled wryly. “That was naturally the completely wrong thing to say.”

Jack grinned, remembering the fire with which Sha’re stood up for-and apparently to-her ‘Danyel.’ “And how long did she make you pay for that?”

“Days,” Daniel’s smile was rueful, but fond. “Several very long days.” He shook his head. “She made me others after that, but she always got this look in her eye when I wore that first robe she made me.” He paused and when he looked up, his eyes were wicked. “I made sure to wear it a lot once I figured it out.”

They shared a moment of mutual male accord.

When Daniel looked out over the yard again, Jack felt a niggling worry steal back into his quiet. “You sure we didn’t overload you too much today? Any of us?”

Daniel looked back at him, query in his face. Jack shifted in his chair.

“It’s just-you know-I get it. I mean, not precisely, the whole memories returning, post-glow thing, but the coming back and figuring out who you are all over again thing. The being alone in your skin thing.”

Daniel’s lips pursed and Jack’s heart sank. This was not really where he had wanted the evening to go, but here they were.

“Bra’tac warned me once that Teal’c was a bit of a busybody,” Daniel said conversationally, “I didn’t believe it for a second. But he always has had issues, because of all the-“ he waved his hand to encompass the things which Jack knew, so he didn’t have to say. Daniel turned those sharp eyes on Jack next, though. “Iraq?” he asked softly.

“When I came back, nothing fit,” Jack sunk a little lower in his chair. “They’d released me from medical supervision and all, but I was a trainwreck. Sara took me out, tried to reenact those early trips, and I just couldn’t do it. The contrast was just-you know.”

“Yeah,” Daniel rearranged himself on the stairs, shifting closer. “I understand. It’s not like that for me, though. I mean, sometimes I get all caught up in these things I should remember, or have remembered, or wish I didn’t remember, and I need time to work it all through, but-“ and here he paused. “Every time I do, I feel more like me again, not less, so that makes it worth it. Like I’m working towards something, not just picking up the pieces.”

It was the most Daniel had said about the memory loss all at one go, and Jack was strangely relieved. It wasn’t that he had any reason to think that Daniel, on returning, wouldn’t pick back up their friendship, but that hadn’t stopped him from fearing, a little. There had been a lot of shit that happened right before Kelowna, which loomed much larger in Jack’s memory than the bright spots from the same period. That Daniel would still open up to him like this made him warm someplace in his soul that he hadn’t really realized was cold. He was determined to keep Daniel talking as long as the other man was willing.

“Yeah?”

Daniel nodded. “It’s like an impressionist painting, you know? If you start out really close to it, the picture’s all a jumble and the colors don’t look like they go, but if you back up, you can see the organizing principles and it starts to make sense, even the greens and purples and pinks in the shadows. Then you walk back and forth until you find the spot that gives you the perfect perspective to make it all fit exactly right, like you’re standing right on the artist’s metaphorical rock.”

He stopped, suddenly, and looked sheepish, like he’d suddenly remembered that he didn’t talk about personal stuff, ever.

Jack considered and rejected a few smartass comments, but settled merely for “I’m glad.” When Daniel continued to fix his gaze on the boards near his knee, Jack gave him a verbal nudge.

“Hey.” Daniel looked up and Jack added, “So, have you found your rock yet?”

Daniel pushed himself up off the steps and looked thoughtful. “Almost there, I think. Getting late, and I think it’s going to rain later-want me to grab the grill and lean it over here, you can head in and wash up first? ”

Jack figured that for a cue that Daniel needed a little more unwinding time and assented easily, hauling himself out of the chair-he’d opt for less comfortable ones because they’d be easier to leave, but that would destroy the point in the first place-and headed in to claim the bathroom, leaving Daniel to his painterly thoughts and trying not to wonder if Daniel saw anyone else in the picture.

- - - - -

Daniel puttered until he saw the light go on in the bathroom, and then he headed inside, feeling a little guilty about playing the avoidance card all evening. Not like he could have done much while Sam and Teal’c were still here-he didn’t have any doubt that they’d be solidly behind himself and Jack no matter what, but they might be a bit embarrassed if the colonel and the archaeologist started making googly eyes at each other over steak and grilled asparagus. Daniel didn’t think of himself as a googly eyes sort of person, but he was suspicious that Jack might be. For a badass colonel, Jack had a mushy spot the size of Minnesota.

There was also the tiny matter of the gray satin and what Daniel intended to do about it. He’d started this whole metaphor thing with the laundry, and Jack had picked it up and run with it-near as Daniel could figure, Jack had already said some version of ‘yes.’

So why was Daniel standing here staring at flannel clutched in one hand and satin in the other, as if deciding on sleepwear held the fate of the world in the balance? Jack had said yes, or had offered it, or something. If Daniel chose the satin, Jack wouldn’t turn him away, right? And if he chose the flannel he could pretend he hadn’t noticed the extra bag, give himself a little longer to make the decision-except he couldn’t, because Jack knew exactly how careful Daniel was, how observant, and he was counting on it.

“Screw it,” Daniel muttered, tossing the flannel back on the bed and shucking out of his clothes while keeping a hold of the satin, first in one hand then the other, as if now that he’d made the decision, he couldn’t bear to let go of the tangibility of it even for a moment, lest he change his mind.

“You’re an idiot, Daniel Jackson,” he muttered, debating ‘glasses on’ or ‘glasses off’ in front of the mirror on the closet door. Off would give the world just enough fuzziness to maybe make this easier, but on the other hand, glasses were one more line of defense, just in case. Not examining what he thought he needed to defend himself from, Daniel left the glasses on and waited until he heard Jack head into the master bedroom.

He took a deep breath, detoured into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and headed for Jack’s door before he had a chance to change his mind.

Daniel stopped in the doorway, riveted. Jack was in a gray tee shirt and navy boxers, sitting on his bed, reading by the light of a small bedside lamp, one knee tucked up to support the book-looked like a mystery from where Daniel was standing-a small smile on his face as he read. He was utterly beguiling, in a ‘perfect homecoming’ sort of way. Jack wasn’t the most stunning thing Daniel had ever seen-his knees were knobby and his legs were hairy in a completely guy way, he’d clearly run his hand through his hair when it was damp and so small tufts of it were sticking up in places, and still he took Daniel’s breath away.

Jack looked up from his book and there was another one of those long silences, where Daniel tried really hard not to fidget, and Jack’s eyes went slowly down and back up and finally settled on Daniel’s face, with a look like the colonel wanted to serve Daniel raw at a one-man banquet. Daniel swallowed and forced himself to stand still. Jack put the book on the bedside table, crossed his legs at the ankles, and put his hands behind his head.

“Hey,” Daniel said, somewhat at a loss for words. There was some piece of anthropological nonsense in here, surely, something about courtship rituals of display, the poses they were both taking, but he was too busy taking in the curve of Jack’s neck where it met his shoulder, and the glitter in Jack’s eyes. Challenge, or possibly fear. Don’t worry, I like what I see, Daniel thought, taking a half-step further into the room, before he was stopped by his own worry again.

“Hey yourself,” Jack replied, and there was a broad smile on his face now, and he shifted a little in bed. “You coming over here or do I need to get up and drag you? ‘Cause the knees have been dodgy lately but I’ve got fresh inspiration and an image of you draped over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I look my best in burlap, but it’s your imagination.” He took a short step further and stopped again, grinning. This was it, now. Maybe they’d talk or maybe none of it needed to be said, but they were going to finish what got started in the mall this afternoon, in that tent on Vis Uban, on Abydos when Daniel had jumped in front of that staff blast to save a man who wanted to die.

Jack sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed so that he was sitting on it, eyes fixed on Daniel. He spread his legs a little and said quietly, “Daniel.”

And Daniel found himself drawn forward into the warm V of Jack’s knees and thighs, while Jack ran the back of his hand up the front of one satin-clad leg, and fingertips up his hip and down the outside along the seam, eyes still looking up, locked with his own.

“Nice fit,” Jack said, and there was appreciation in his voice, but a question on his face. Daniel nodded with a smile, and Jack’s hand curled around his thigh, and the other splayed across Daniel’s bare stomach, and Daniel shivered a little and thought I knew that skipping the shirt was a good plan and then he wasn’t thinking at all, because Jack was scooting back a bit on the bed, and pulling on Daniel’s leg so that Daniel had to put a knee down, and then he was bending forward and Jack’s hand slid up the back of his leg, over his ass and up his spine, tucking in around his shoulder and tugging some more.

And then his mouth was on Jack’s and it was blissfully hot and mobile, Jack’s lips pushing back against his as Daniel overbalanced them and sent Jack all the way back to lie on the bed, Daniel braced on all fours above him. In between kisses, Jack said, “I love you in these pants,” and then, “take the glasses off, would you? I’m afraid of getting noseprints on them,” and Daniel kissed him for the truth within the first and chuckled at the second and leaned back far enough to put the glasses on Jack’s book as Jack let his hands wander freely over his torso and down.

“I mean it,” Jack added, “you really shouldn’t ever wear anything else,” and Daniel grinned at the image of going through the Gate wearing satin pajamas and his pack. Jack caught his expression and frowned. “On second thought, I don’t want you wearing these on base. I couldn’t in good conscience let you anywhere near those poor unsuspecting Marines. They’d all drop dead of lust and then where would we be next time some idiot Goa’uld came knocking on the door?”

Daniel laughed, and Jack looked so smug that Daniel laughed harder, enough that his arms gave out and he landed on Jack, who responded with a comical “oof!” yet still looked pleased at the development. Daniel discovered that kissing through laughter was difficult but ultimately rewarding, and didn’t put up much of any fight at all when Jack rolled them over so that Daniel was the one getting agreeably squashed.

Jack leaned up then and looked down at Daniel. “Hey,” he said, and he had that ‘testing the waters’ look he got any time he was worried he’d been too domineering. That mushy spot of his had to be bigger than Minnesota, Daniel decided, and he hooked a leg around Jack’s back and flipped them again.

“Hey yourself,” Daniel grinned, then rolled them back. “I was pretty comfy down here you know. Just for future reference.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack waggled his eyebrows in a way that was probably meant to be lecherous, but mostly made him look endearingly silly, not that Daniel would ever tell him so.

“Yeah,” Daniel affirmed instead. Whatever Jack wanted, however Jack wanted it, was good by Daniel. He couldn’t imagine a single thing Jack would ask of him that he’d balk at right now. Of course, right now Jack was conducting some kind of love affair between his hands and Daniel’s pajamas, so…

“Should I be giving you and the pants some alone time?” Daniel snarked.

Jack’s hand slipped from Daniel’s thigh to somewhere decidedly more delicate. And interested. He smirked. “Nah, just enjoying the packaging.”

Daniel groaned at the pun, but it turned into what he had to admit was a low moan before he salvaged enough breath to tease Jack some more. “Admit it-you were one of those toddlers that played with the wrapping paper on Christmas Day more than the presents.”

“Maybe,” Jack chuckled. “But don’t worry, I grew out of it.”

“Hmph,” Daniel murmured noncommittally and let his own hands wander over the hundred-times washed cotton covering Jack’s chest. He could feel the age of the fabric in how easily the thin threads slid under his hands without snagging on the creases of his fingers. Braille but better, he thought dimly, fingers tracing out the difference in skin between whole and scarred as he tracked up Jack’s ribs.

“Now who’s playing with the wrapping paper?” Jack’s voice broke a little when Daniel’s hand ghosted over his heart and then down to the hem of his shirt.

“I personally have always thought that the best part of wrapping paper was the ripping,” Daniel muttered. Jack’s eyes got a little wider and Daniel rolled his eyes.

“Some other time,” he urged Jack’s arms up so that he could skim the cotton off instead. “I know how much you like that shirt.”

The look Jack gave him was mingled amusement and exasperation, a look Daniel recognized well.

“Like that matters?” Jack asked, and there was a hint of something new there, something that made Daniel yank Jack closer and see just how possible it was to climb inside another person, mouth first.

- - - - -

Jack dropped the washcloth in the sink and headed back to the bedroom, stopping in the doorway like Daniel had done an hour or so ago, taking in the figure sprawled across his bed. He contemplated making a running leap at him ala Jack at age six pouncing on his parents’ bed, but dismissed the idea as crazy 1 o’clock post-best-night-of-your-life lunacy and instead slid easily in beside Daniel, who tugged at him with a sleepy arm until Jack was tucked up against his side like a hot water bottle.

Desert dweller, Jack thought fondly, and kissed Daniel’s shoulder.

Daniel made a contented sound, and turned his face, eyes still closed towards Jack’s, asking without a word. Jack kissed him there too, and Daniel smiled as he shifted back again.

“Jack?” he murmured. “You know that rock?”

“Yeah?”

“Right here.”

Jack smiled and stretched lazily with his free arm. Oh yeah. Life was good. His picture was looking pretty perfect right now too. His fingers brushed something familiar and he tugged Daniel’s pajama pants down from where they’d gotten shoved up by the headboard. Just out of curiosity, he checked the waistband in the ambient light from where the nightlight spilled in from the hallway.

Machine wash cold. Tumble dry low.

“Well I’ll be a…” he breathed with a whispered chuckle as he dropped them beside the bed. “Daniel Jackson, you have unexpected depths.”

“Mmm,” Daniel said sleepily. “Maybe in the morning, Jack.”