Can't Stop Watching
Jack’s POV.
I can’t stop watching Daniel. Watching him has become as necessary as breathing to me. If he’s nearby, I’m aware of him. I know exactly where he is, what he’s doing, what he’s wearing, how he’s moving, his mood, his demeanor, everything about him.
Is Daniel aware of just how AWARE I am of him? No. Got to credit the years of Special Ops training and experience for that. He’s not aware and neither is anyone else. I’m very good at what I do. If I don’t want anyone to know what I’m doing then they won’t know. And I don’t want anyone to know about this. I wish that even I didn’t know about this. What is this? It’s all jumbled up inside of me but, if I’m honest with myself, something I’ve been working on, I’ve got to admit that it’s a mixture of my own need, interest, compulsion, obsession and desire.
I don’t know for sure when it started, when I started watching Daniel, when my need to keep tabs on him became almost instinctual. Sure, I paid close attention to him when I first dragged him back to Earth from Abydos and into my home. I didn’t really think about what I, or the USAF, was going to do with Daniel when we brought him back. I had orders to fetch him home and I did just that. Never thought about what would happen afterwards. But then I found him drifting around the halls of the SGC, looking utterly lost, keeping upright only via the power of caffeine, still in shock over the abrupt change in his life, and the decision to bring him home with me was no decision at all. It was the right thing to do and it came to me like a reflex response. He needed someone and me ….. I needed to be needed.
Having Daniel living with me for those first few months was a revelation to me. I learned something about myself that I’d never allowed myself to acknowledge before: I like having someone around to care for. I enjoy the simple, domestic day to day activities of living with and looking after another person, making sure that they’re fed, well-rested, and safe under my roof from the hostility of the outside world.
I used to be a real asshole. Epic asshole material. I personified the cliché of the dark, lethal, unflappable, and emotionless, driven to complete the mission at any cost 100% company man. My company was the US Military and I breathed olive drab and multiple blends of camouflage. I was lucky to meet and smart enough to marry a good woman, Sara. She deserved so much better than she got with me. I was too consumed with maintaining my image as a dangerous man to really enjoy the time I had with Sara and Charlie. Sara and I both played our expected roles in the traditionalist version of husband and wife, father and mother. Sara never stopped trying to bridge the gap between us that my career kept widening. Charlie, our son, thought I walked on water. I loved them, but I never truly allowed myself to feel it, to experience it deep down in my soul. I was Military first and foremost, a man, husband and father only in the little time left to me that duty did not use up. I didn’t understand how wrong I was until after it was too late. Sara was right to leave me. I was no true partner to her and I can only hope that she finds a man to love who is worthy of her regard.
Daniel Jackson dropping into my life changed me profoundly. Yeah, he pissed me off royally at first. I despised him and everything that I thought he stood for. I had us all set up to square off in a game of Military vs. Academic Wimp. I hated his passion and enthusiasm for his work, his optimism, his overwhelming desire to learn, experience and understand. I thought he was hopelessly naïve and ill-equipped for the mission we’d been given. He proved me wrong and then some. Daniel turned out to be strong, driven, tough and tenacious, yet gentle and generous at the same time. By the time we parted ways on Abydos, and not without some regret on my part, I was feeling a little glimmer of the light that life could offer me.
I came home to an empty house and divorce papers. But I didn’t feel bitter about it. Yeah, I still mourned the loss of my son. I’ll mourn over Charlie’s death every moment of my life, and wallow in the guilt over my role in it. I will never forgive myself. Forgiving Sara was easy. I abandoned her during her time of greatest need and she will never truly trust me again. We got through the divorce, sold the house, and settled the finances. I set her free and then turned to create my own new life. It was a simple life, but it was enough. I found a house and spent endless hours working on it and the yard. I learned to enjoy quiet time with only my own company. I taught myself to shop, cook, do laundry and keep house. I met my new neighbors and made a few friends around the neighborhood. I took time to read just for pleasure and re-discovered my love of astronomy. I built a roof-top deck for my new telescope and searched for Abydos in the heavens. I thought about Daniel, the first person who had reached out to me as a human being and shown me that life just might be worth living.
Funny that Daniel is the one who really prepared me to take care of Daniel.
Daniel living with me made me a student and Daniel was my subject. He was utterly miserable at first, consumed with guilt over what had happened to Sha’re and Skarra, unable to enjoy even a moment’s respite from his near hopeless quest to find and save them. He would have lived in his office on-base if left on his own, surviving on coffee, candy bars and stale commissary sandwiches, sleeping only when he collapsed over his cluttered desk from exhaustion. I knew he’d burn out fast on that plan. Bringing him home with me at night ensured his survival. He needed a safe haven, a place to rest and recharge. He needed a home.
Daniel was a tough nut to crack at first. He was trying to stay strong, and fit into the alien environment that was the US Military. His first rule of conduct looked to be “First, show no weakness.” He was firm, but polite to everyone, worked constantly, ate and slept only when forced to by me. As time passed, he started to let people in, but only a select few, and only a little way in. He talked with Sam, let her tell him about her work, then started to help her with her work, finally eating some meals with her on-base and even seeing an occasional movie. Teal’c was much more difficult for him to come to terms with. Daniel hated Teal’c for what he’d done to Sha’re. I could see it in his eyes. But he also knew that I had accepted Teal’c and wanted Teal’c as our ally and team-mate. He wanted to make use of Teal’c’s knowledge and to please me, probably thinking that I’d abandon him if he didn’t toe the line. He forced himself to accept Teal’c, pushing his own rage down deep, and only letting the scholar in him come out when he was with Teal’c.
I have to admire Daniel for the uneasy alliance he forced himself to form with Teal’c. I don’t think that I could have done it under the same circumstances. Teal’c had his bone deep Jaffa code of honor to support him when he made himself Daniel’s unwanted guardian and protector as penance for his past sins. Daniel only had his desperation to lean on. He had no choice. He needed me, the SGC and Teal’c’s information to keep his quest for Sha’re alive. He finally made peace with the arrangement as a sort of trade-off: Teal’c taught Daniel the goa’uld language and history in exchange for Daniel teaching Teal’c all about the people, history and cultures of Earth.
I’ve come to know a lot about Daniel over the past year or so, mostly by observing him. Daniel can talk endlessly, but his least favorite subject is himself. He can get perfect strangers to tell him their life history, their deepest secrets and desires, but about himself he reveals very little. He’s a walking enigma. But I did figure out some things.
Daniel adapts quickly and as needed to new situations. At a formal dinner with the Brass, he eats and converses like an 1800’s era aristocrat, perfectly polite and utterly charming. In the mess, with SG-1 or Lou’s team, he’ll defend his plate and steal from mine like a starving farmhand at the noontime dinner table. Off-world he will eat, and with a smile, absolutely any disgusting thing presented by our native hosts, but will bitch to the cook (me) on Earth about how his meat is cooked imperfectly. When at home, he can be open and chatty or as sullen as a teenager disappointed with his parents. In a lecture situation or in his office, he’s all confidence, passion and control. When he’s with a large group of people, or any size group of USAF or Marines, he does his best to become invisible, ducks his head, talks only if pressed and often stutters when he does. He must have been bullied as a child because he makes himself scarce if a group of alpha males shows up. He has never cried in front of me, but I know he cries himself to sleep on many nights, shoulders silently heaving under the cover of darkness as he struggles not to make a sound. He sleeps curled around a pillow at home; clutching it like it’s the only source of comfort he’ll ever again know. Off world, he sleeps curled up with his arms wrapped tightly around himself, defending him against the terrors of the night.
Daniel’s lips move when he translates, sounding out the words to himself, but he never actually makes a sound. He does not like to be touched. He’ll pull away if someone reaches for him, throwing up that invisible, impenetrable do-not-touch barrier that keeps everyone at arm’s length. He’ll stand still and rigidly tolerate the quick hug from Carter. There is one exception to the do-not-touch rule for Daniel and that’s me. I do touch him and I do it all the time. I just don’t overwhelm him with grand gestures. I play quick and dirty: the arm pat, the shoulder bump, the neck squeeze. He smiles every once in a while, when he forgets how miserable he is, and it lights up his face like a beacon.
I live for that smile. I’ve only seen it a few times, but I want to see more of it.
Daniel has been living on his own for a while now. I didn’t want him to move out, but understand that he had to. He needed to be independent, to feel that he’s not imposing on anyone. He needed to take a step towards admitting to himself that he’s back on Earth for the long-haul, maybe forever. In a way, he needed to admit to himself that he may never get Sha’re back. I helped him find his new apartment and move into it. I like the place. But I do miss having him around all the time. The house feels bereft without him and his constant clutter in it. We have a standing “date” for Friday nights that we’re both on-world and off-base. We have dinner at my place (I still think of it as “our” place) and then play chess or watch a movie or a game. We talk. Well, I talk. He listens. I turn into Chatty Cathy when he’s around. He knows my entire life story, except for the classified parts. I still know little of his life before he first came to the Mountain. His juvenile records are sealed and I’m scared to ask him what that’s all about. Daniel has a look in his eyes that says he’s seen and endured many lifetimes of pain. He stays over if it gets late or he has a beer or wine with dinner. We both seem to take a sort of comfort in that. I keep the guest room ready for him. I still think of it as his room. He keeps some clothes there and it comforts me to know that he still sleeps in the T-shirts and pajama pants that I first gave to him when I brought him home.
I watch Daniel even more now that he’s not living with me. It’s an uncontrollable urge, an itch that no amount of scratching can ease. I fear I’ve become obsessed and it’s only my training as an unobtrusive observer that keeps my secret. I watch Daniel. I want Daniel. I think I love Daniel. And I’m doomed because of it. I can’t have him. I’m still USAF and he’s married. He’ll never willingly betray Sha’re, even if that means he’s celibate for the rest of his life. That’s just who he is. I have no idea if he’d even be interested in me if he were not married. Daniel’s never spoken about his sex life, his sexual history, dating or about any romantic relationship. I don’t know if the idea of being with a man excites or disgusts him. He’s practically asexual on-base, never taking notice of anyone’s attractiveness, never aware of or reacting to anyone taking notice of him, male or female. That should comfort me, because it means that it’s unlikely he’ll choose to be with someone else, but none of that really matters, because I can’t have him.
I’ve been dreaming about Daniel for a while now. I wonder what he really looks like naked, not the way I actually have seen him, hiding himself from prying eyes in the locker-room showers after a mission, but when he’s relaxed and comfortable in his skin and in his nakedness. I’ve never seen him like that in real life. Even when he was living with me, he was always body-shy and kept covered up. My dreams have filled in the blanks for me, but I still ache to see him with my own eyes, to see him revealed before me. I dream of waking up to him in my bed, of seeing that slow, sweet smile bloom on his face as he wakes and sees me. I dream of sleeping with him curled up around me or snuggled in my arms after lovemaking. I dream of his hands on me, his mouth, his smooth skin rubbing up against mine, his voice calling my name as he comes, arching wantonly against me. It’s a regular event, my waking up with my dick in my hand, come all over the sheets, the sound of his voice and the sight of his face in my head, fading fast as the dream ends and the chilly reality of my empty bed sinks in.
I’m watching Daniel right now. It’s a guys’ weekend in the Colorado mountains. Daniel, Teal’c and I are on a camping trip. Carter opted to stay home with her research. Probably more than happy to get out of the testosterone pool that she works in on SG-1. Teal’c has been teaching Daniel how to track both animals and people. I’ve been playing the tracked. Daniel is determined to prove that he has skills that go beyond the purely academic. He’s been working to qualify for a Search and Rescue certification. He still thinks that the USAF will throw him out at some point. In return, Daniel has been teaching Teal’c some things he learned from working on digs all over the world, and on Abydos: How to make a slingshot to use as a weapon or for hunting, how to use the slingshot, how to make a thin rope out of long grasses than can be used to make snares, how to weave a shallow basket that can hold water, even how to locate sources of water in the desert. I can see that Teal’c is impressed with Daniel’s display of such traditionally manly, previously undisclosed skills. I think that T would like to prepare and actually eat some of the small animals that Daniel has caught but, Daniel has been freeing them, letting them hop off or run to safety. Suck it up, T. That’s just who he is. We’ll be dining on traditional American camp food tonight. That means canned food, heated over a fire.
Daniel set-up the camp last night while Teal’c and I walked the perimeter to make sure it was safe. We can’t seem to drop the off-world protocol even when we’re on-world. Daniel’s camping skills are really impressive. He says that all the years spent at remote dig sites are the reason why. I’m always amazed that he can set-up or take down a tent in less than three minutes - no matter what the size of the tent, the layout of the site or the weather conditions at hand. He’s a tent savant. T and I were out for about ten minutes and we came back to both tents being pitched and the fire pit nearly complete. Daniel said that he’d have had the pit completed, but for a broken tent-tie that slowed him down. Daniel’s solution to the broken tent-tie? Zip ties. He thinks that zip ties are the most useful item in our mission packs. I’ve seen him use them for everything from belt loops to re-attaching a spade-head to a collapsible handle. To me, they’re simple restraints. To Daniel, they’re even more useful than duct tape. This morning, he used a bunch of zip ties to set-up a sun shelter using one of our space blankets, his Swiss Army knife, a couple of saplings and a rock. Tent savant, my ass! He’s a camp savant!
I almost gave myself away this morning. I had my eyes glued to Daniel’s hands as he manipulated the zip ties into the type of anchor that he needed. Daniel’s hands are a thing of beauty: long-fingered, graceful, and infinitely agile. I’ve seen him weave cloth, knead dough, deliver a child, comfort the injured, make a weapon and take a life with those amazing hands. Teal’c noticed me noticing Daniel’s hands and, as I quickly tried to avert eyes, he caught my gaze, nodded and smiled at me. I have no idea what Teal’c meant with that look. I’m kind of afraid to find out.
I had another Daniel dream last night. I woke up saying his name and Teal’c might have heard me. Daniel did not hear me, thank God! He sleeps like the dead and didn’t even stir when I jolted awake and struggled to hide the evidence of my insane desire. This dream was different from the others. It so vivid that I could still feel the sensations on my skin after I woke up, still smell the sweat and muskiness of our bodies, feel Daniel’s heartbeat under my hand.
My dreams have been intensifying of late. In this one I had Daniel tied to a tree, arms secured behind him with zip ties. Damn you, Daniel, for putting such an idea into my head! Some part of me must know that he’ll never allow me to touch him intimately without restraining him. He was standing, blindfolded, legs apart. I slowly cut his clothing off of him, peeling it away from his skin, palming each newly revealed section, spreading my fingers across the smooth, warm expanse. Smelling it, inhaling his scent, watching the goose bumps rise as the cool air hits him. I work from the top down, nipping his earlobe, brushing my lips across the pulse in his neck, biting his shoulder, sucking at his fingers, tonguing his nipples and his navel, nosing in his pubic hair, licking down the inside of his thigh, kissing his knees, his ankles. I slowly stroke him all over, never touching his cock, his balls or his lips. Top down and bottom up. Just stroke, touch, palm, finger, trace, graze, lick, nip, bite. He trembles, shakes, and shivers deliciously when I hit a particularly sensitive spot, moans softly, sighing my name as if it were the answer to every question he’s ever had. I finally settle against him, lips softly breathing warm air over his earlobe and neck, fingers of one hand on his inner thigh, the other hand holding him by the hair, fingers cupping his head against the rough bark of the tree. He’s hard, as I am, cock standing up against his belly, bobbing slightly every time I touch the soft skin of his thigh. Slowly, I move my hand up his leg until I’m cupping his balls. His cock twitches and he moans. Gently, I cup, hold, stroke and finger his balls, feeling them get full, heavy and finally draw up tight, hot to the touch. The tremors are coursing through his body. His nipples are hard and a rosy flush has spread over his chest, neck and face. After an unbearable pause, as I finally touch my lips against his, his mouth opening to mine, I press the tip of one finger up to stroke the impossibly soft and sensitive skin behind his balls. He jerks and comes, moaning into my mouth, the hot come splashing over his belly. I draw my fingers up through the splatter on his belly and put one to his lips. He greedily suckles my finger; I rub the whole length of my body up against him and come, the blood roaring in my ears, his name on my lips.
That’s when I woke up this morning, shaking, hot and bothered.
This is a form of torture. I’m almost afraid to sleep beside Daniel tonight. I’m almost afraid not to. I don’t want anyone in his bed and I don’t want anyone other than him in mine. I love this man. He loves his wife. I want this man. He wants his wife. I know that I can’t have him, that I’ll never have him. Daniel will either find Sha’re and live happily ever after, die trying to find her or be destroyed by his own broken heart if he can’t find or save her. Behind the door of each scenario is the same ending and that’s me without Daniel. I fear that I am doomed. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to love him without being loved in return. Sooner or later, the pressure is going to get to me, and I’m going to do something incredibly stupid. But until then, I’ll be watching him. I can’t stop.
FINIS