fic: The Last Night of the World (Jack/Kinsey)
Cross-posted to wisdomeagle and stargateslash
The Last Night of the World
Rating: PG-13 (Very soft. Possibly PG)
Pairings: Jack/Kinsey (and others, but if you get past that, I'm sure you won't mind.)
Spoilers: 2010 and 2001
Season/Ep: S4/very early in the 2010 timeline
Summary: The night before the Stargate project goes public, Jack watches the SGC's last party, and the world tilts on its side. Everyone is very drunk.
Warnings: See pairing. I should also note that there are pretty strong het overtones if that sort of thing squicks you.
Notes: This has been sitting on my computer for awhile, waiting to see the light of day. I like it. But the pairing is unconventional, to say the least. Permanent link at geocities.com/wisdomeagle/fic_last.html. Feedback would be adored (even the kind that just says, "You're a sick puppy for writing this pairing")
They were all drunk. Some of them had gone beyond drunk. Jack knew he was drunk; Kinsey's presence had been enough to ensure that. But he hadn't had enough to make him lose his inhibitions. Hadn't had enough so he didn't notice the rest losing theirs. Fraiser was giddy. Hammond was jovial. Teal'c seemed to have excused himself early; Major Davis was weeping. The booze was still flowing, and Jack chewed the inside of his mouth. Daniel sat down next to him, and Jack thanked the stars-he'd given up on Gods -- that he was sober enough not to grab his hand. "Looks like the Senator's had a few too many."
"Looks like he's not the only one."
"What about you? Why are you sober?"
"Designated driver."
"Who designated you?"
"I did. I was at your holiday party last year, remember?"
"This is hardly that kind of party."
"You're going to be bitter, aren't you?"
"What do you think, Daniel? I don't like the Aschen. I never will. They don't give me a good feeling."
"I think you're more upset that we aren't the first line of defense against the Goa'uld anymore."
"Maybe I am."
"Well, I'd better get back to talking to the happy people." And Daniel lowered a hand to Jack's shoulder, almost a "you hang in there" gesture. Jack was touched, so he was more brusque than usual when he told Daniel to have fun.
He was drunk. That was his excuse; his reason was -- well -- he wasn't happy. Daniel left to take Fraiser and Hammond, both singing loudly, back to their houses, and the Aschen were on their way, and this was the last function for just them, just the SGC, just the elite, the best of the best, nation's first line of defense. He was sitting in a corner while the celebratory crowd spun out of control. Tomorrow, they were going public. Tomorrow, he'd salute for the last time, and announce his retirement. He'd kiss Carter, kiss Doc Fraiser, shake Daniel's hand and look at him meaningfully, and figure out what life without the Stargate might be like.
"Well, O'Neill. I expected you'd be celebrating. This is what you wanted, isn't it?"
"Bite me." The joys of retirement, Jack decided, would definitely include mouthing off to Kinsey. "What are you doing here, anyhow?"
"Big things are happening, Jack. Big things, and I want in."
Kinsey's glare was colder and barer than usual. Drink had taken the smarm off; drink had decreased Jack's wariness. "What do you want?"
For a minute, the glare was totally gone. "Ask me again in half an hour--" it was back -- a sneer in Jack's direction, and Kinsey was just one of the politicians and officers, charming with the best of them, determined to get his piece of the pie.
"Here's to the SGC," said Jack, and he knocked back another pint of whiskey.
"My, my, Colonel -- gotten to the good stuff, did we?"
"Senator."
"Oh, please -- Joe."
Jack groaned. "What do you want?"
"Oh, I just thought I'd ask your blessing. Your Major is quite an attractive woman -- Colonel."
"You aren't calling me Jack, so forget it. And you do what you want with Sam," (the name still felt odd in his mouth) "but you'll have Teal'c and me to answer to if anything happens to her." Joe winked broadly; alcohol had made him brave, and he was the man of the hour, so he joined the throng.
The gateroom had been transformed, a last blowout party, balloons and steamers and kegs of booze, a shimmering, glittering ballroom for a last hurrah. They went public tomorrow. Tomorrow, Jack retired. Tomorrow, this was once again Hammond's sinecure and Catherine's legacy. A forgotten missal silo. Today they were the happiest people on Earth. Standing orders accomplished, sir! they seemed to scream with every glass of wine, every dance step, every note of the Air Force Hymn that blared through the speakers. Daniel had come back, minus the drunks, and still looked very astute and awake amidst the chaos. Jack felt the beginnings of a headache.
They were all insane, every one of them, drunk on power and success and alcohol. Daniel was schmoozing with the rest of them, his position secure as long as a cultural expert was needed. Jack thought the spotlights had found Daniel, who was glowing even brighter than usual. Major Carter emerged from somewhere to ask Jack to dance; he smiled at her and said no. "You have fun with your senator, Carter. I'll be right here -- having fun with mine." For Kinsey had reappeared out of the madding crowd, a lost look on his face. Carter smiled gleefully -- she, too, had had too much to drink -- and found Joe.
The lighting in Jack's corner was low; no one wanted to watch a grouchy Colonel getting deliberately drunker and drunker. They wanted the party, the joy, the madness, the glee. In the darkness, Kinsey looked helpless. Gone the power, gone the ambition, gone the facade; a tired, empty man stood beside him.
"Come on. Dr. Jackson will drive you to your hotel."
"Not Dr. Jackson. Want you." Very, very drunk.
"Senator?" Jack's voice was still tinged with sarcasm. He couldn't be too careful, regardless of what had happened to everyone else's reserve.
"Somewhere else."
Jack rolled his eyes and helped Kinsey to his feet. He couldn't think where to go -- his own office was already full of cardboard boxes stuffed with paperwork. Daniel's, then. The only place on this whole base he'd miss spending time in -- besides Carter's lab. He picked her out on the dance floor, Joe's hands very low on her back, and winced involuntarily.
Daniel's office was dark and empty, and it seemed haunted by laughter and lectures and careless hands on stiff shoulders. Jack maneuvered Kinsey into Daniel's chair, pushed a stack of books onto the floor, and took his place on Daniel's desk, waiting for Kinsey to pull himself together.
When he did, he surprised the hell out of Jack, who thought he'd been prepared for anything -- murder attempt, bribery, blackmail, gloating -- but not haunted eyes peering into his, and certainly not thin, chapped lips inches from his. He said the first thing that came to mind.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"You're gay, aren't you, Colonel? Seen the way you look at Dr. Jackson. Isn't this what you want, Colonel? This-is-what-I-want. What if things go wrong what if this isn't what we're supposed to be doing what if God punishes us what if this backfires the electorate...Jack..."
Jack closed his eyes and pretended it was Daniel, and then it wasn't so bad. If he didn't think about it and just let the kiss happen, it wasn't so bad. And at least he'd shut up. Stopped talking. Stopped voicing his, Jack's, fears. Thank God. They kissed.
They didn't kiss for very long because even if Kinsey had gone off the deep end, Jack hadn't, and he was still calculating and realized he should really get back downstairs, at least for a few minutes, at least to talk to Daniel and Carter before he called it a night. So he released Kinsey and propelled him towards the door, ignoring the babbling apologies of a man who was past drunk.
At five in the morning, the party ground to a halt, crashed Air Force officers and senators were stowed away in VIP rooms, people who lived in town had been driven home, and only SG-1 remained, as if by mutual decision, to say goodbye. They left the mess of empty cups and torn streamers, spilt beer and broken stilettos, and found Teal'c in his quarters, sitting quietly.
"It was a good party," Daniel started. "It's too bad you missed it."
"I am sorry for my absence. Will it be forgiven?"
"Of course," said Carter, still wobbling in high-heeled shoes, still flushed from wine. "But it was a good party."
"Did you and Joe..."
"What about you and the Democrat from Oregon?"
Daniel blushed.
"I had too much to drink," Carter excused herself. "I'll regret it in the morning."
"I am sorry to hear that."
"I hate parties," said Daniel, suddenly honest. "Especially military parties."
Jack didn't say anything. What was there to say? He thought he'd regret it in the morning, too. He thought he hated parties, always had, since high school. He thought he wished he'd excused himself early, too.
SG-1 chattered on, shining in the light of the lava lamp Teal'c had been given last year at Christmas. Jack stood, not tipsy at all, drunk off his ass but not tired yet. Sam threw back her head and laughed, and Daniel smiled, a bright, genuine smile, and Teal'c nodded stoically, but Jack knew the corners of his lips were quirked in amusement.
And Jack loved them.
Tomorrow, when the sun rose, tomorrow he would regret this. Tomorrow he would retire. Tomorrow, they were going public. He and Kinsey both had blackmail material now; there would be political maneuvering and shadowy dealings. There would be regrets in the morning, and promises never to do it again, and Daniel to think about, and worlds to explore, and worlds they would never explore, because who knew what the Aschen would forbid? Jack wanted to sit with his team forever, but he couldn't bear to look at their joy anymore, so he excused himself. When he left, they were still laughing.
The Last Night of the World
Rating: PG-13 (Very soft. Possibly PG)
Pairings: Jack/Kinsey (and others, but if you get past that, I'm sure you won't mind.)
Spoilers: 2010 and 2001
Season/Ep: S4/very early in the 2010 timeline
Summary: The night before the Stargate project goes public, Jack watches the SGC's last party, and the world tilts on its side. Everyone is very drunk.
Warnings: See pairing. I should also note that there are pretty strong het overtones if that sort of thing squicks you.
Notes: This has been sitting on my computer for awhile, waiting to see the light of day. I like it. But the pairing is unconventional, to say the least. Permanent link at geocities.com/wisdomeagle/fic_last.html. Feedback would be adored (even the kind that just says, "You're a sick puppy for writing this pairing")
They were all drunk. Some of them had gone beyond drunk. Jack knew he was drunk; Kinsey's presence had been enough to ensure that. But he hadn't had enough to make him lose his inhibitions. Hadn't had enough so he didn't notice the rest losing theirs. Fraiser was giddy. Hammond was jovial. Teal'c seemed to have excused himself early; Major Davis was weeping. The booze was still flowing, and Jack chewed the inside of his mouth. Daniel sat down next to him, and Jack thanked the stars-he'd given up on Gods -- that he was sober enough not to grab his hand. "Looks like the Senator's had a few too many."
"Looks like he's not the only one."
"What about you? Why are you sober?"
"Designated driver."
"Who designated you?"
"I did. I was at your holiday party last year, remember?"
"This is hardly that kind of party."
"You're going to be bitter, aren't you?"
"What do you think, Daniel? I don't like the Aschen. I never will. They don't give me a good feeling."
"I think you're more upset that we aren't the first line of defense against the Goa'uld anymore."
"Maybe I am."
"Well, I'd better get back to talking to the happy people." And Daniel lowered a hand to Jack's shoulder, almost a "you hang in there" gesture. Jack was touched, so he was more brusque than usual when he told Daniel to have fun.
He was drunk. That was his excuse; his reason was -- well -- he wasn't happy. Daniel left to take Fraiser and Hammond, both singing loudly, back to their houses, and the Aschen were on their way, and this was the last function for just them, just the SGC, just the elite, the best of the best, nation's first line of defense. He was sitting in a corner while the celebratory crowd spun out of control. Tomorrow, they were going public. Tomorrow, he'd salute for the last time, and announce his retirement. He'd kiss Carter, kiss Doc Fraiser, shake Daniel's hand and look at him meaningfully, and figure out what life without the Stargate might be like.
"Well, O'Neill. I expected you'd be celebrating. This is what you wanted, isn't it?"
"Bite me." The joys of retirement, Jack decided, would definitely include mouthing off to Kinsey. "What are you doing here, anyhow?"
"Big things are happening, Jack. Big things, and I want in."
Kinsey's glare was colder and barer than usual. Drink had taken the smarm off; drink had decreased Jack's wariness. "What do you want?"
For a minute, the glare was totally gone. "Ask me again in half an hour--" it was back -- a sneer in Jack's direction, and Kinsey was just one of the politicians and officers, charming with the best of them, determined to get his piece of the pie.
"Here's to the SGC," said Jack, and he knocked back another pint of whiskey.
"My, my, Colonel -- gotten to the good stuff, did we?"
"Senator."
"Oh, please -- Joe."
Jack groaned. "What do you want?"
"Oh, I just thought I'd ask your blessing. Your Major is quite an attractive woman -- Colonel."
"You aren't calling me Jack, so forget it. And you do what you want with Sam," (the name still felt odd in his mouth) "but you'll have Teal'c and me to answer to if anything happens to her." Joe winked broadly; alcohol had made him brave, and he was the man of the hour, so he joined the throng.
The gateroom had been transformed, a last blowout party, balloons and steamers and kegs of booze, a shimmering, glittering ballroom for a last hurrah. They went public tomorrow. Tomorrow, Jack retired. Tomorrow, this was once again Hammond's sinecure and Catherine's legacy. A forgotten missal silo. Today they were the happiest people on Earth. Standing orders accomplished, sir! they seemed to scream with every glass of wine, every dance step, every note of the Air Force Hymn that blared through the speakers. Daniel had come back, minus the drunks, and still looked very astute and awake amidst the chaos. Jack felt the beginnings of a headache.
They were all insane, every one of them, drunk on power and success and alcohol. Daniel was schmoozing with the rest of them, his position secure as long as a cultural expert was needed. Jack thought the spotlights had found Daniel, who was glowing even brighter than usual. Major Carter emerged from somewhere to ask Jack to dance; he smiled at her and said no. "You have fun with your senator, Carter. I'll be right here -- having fun with mine." For Kinsey had reappeared out of the madding crowd, a lost look on his face. Carter smiled gleefully -- she, too, had had too much to drink -- and found Joe.
The lighting in Jack's corner was low; no one wanted to watch a grouchy Colonel getting deliberately drunker and drunker. They wanted the party, the joy, the madness, the glee. In the darkness, Kinsey looked helpless. Gone the power, gone the ambition, gone the facade; a tired, empty man stood beside him.
"Come on. Dr. Jackson will drive you to your hotel."
"Not Dr. Jackson. Want you." Very, very drunk.
"Senator?" Jack's voice was still tinged with sarcasm. He couldn't be too careful, regardless of what had happened to everyone else's reserve.
"Somewhere else."
Jack rolled his eyes and helped Kinsey to his feet. He couldn't think where to go -- his own office was already full of cardboard boxes stuffed with paperwork. Daniel's, then. The only place on this whole base he'd miss spending time in -- besides Carter's lab. He picked her out on the dance floor, Joe's hands very low on her back, and winced involuntarily.
Daniel's office was dark and empty, and it seemed haunted by laughter and lectures and careless hands on stiff shoulders. Jack maneuvered Kinsey into Daniel's chair, pushed a stack of books onto the floor, and took his place on Daniel's desk, waiting for Kinsey to pull himself together.
When he did, he surprised the hell out of Jack, who thought he'd been prepared for anything -- murder attempt, bribery, blackmail, gloating -- but not haunted eyes peering into his, and certainly not thin, chapped lips inches from his. He said the first thing that came to mind.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"You're gay, aren't you, Colonel? Seen the way you look at Dr. Jackson. Isn't this what you want, Colonel? This-is-what-I-want. What if things go wrong what if this isn't what we're supposed to be doing what if God punishes us what if this backfires the electorate...Jack..."
Jack closed his eyes and pretended it was Daniel, and then it wasn't so bad. If he didn't think about it and just let the kiss happen, it wasn't so bad. And at least he'd shut up. Stopped talking. Stopped voicing his, Jack's, fears. Thank God. They kissed.
They didn't kiss for very long because even if Kinsey had gone off the deep end, Jack hadn't, and he was still calculating and realized he should really get back downstairs, at least for a few minutes, at least to talk to Daniel and Carter before he called it a night. So he released Kinsey and propelled him towards the door, ignoring the babbling apologies of a man who was past drunk.
At five in the morning, the party ground to a halt, crashed Air Force officers and senators were stowed away in VIP rooms, people who lived in town had been driven home, and only SG-1 remained, as if by mutual decision, to say goodbye. They left the mess of empty cups and torn streamers, spilt beer and broken stilettos, and found Teal'c in his quarters, sitting quietly.
"It was a good party," Daniel started. "It's too bad you missed it."
"I am sorry for my absence. Will it be forgiven?"
"Of course," said Carter, still wobbling in high-heeled shoes, still flushed from wine. "But it was a good party."
"Did you and Joe..."
"What about you and the Democrat from Oregon?"
Daniel blushed.
"I had too much to drink," Carter excused herself. "I'll regret it in the morning."
"I am sorry to hear that."
"I hate parties," said Daniel, suddenly honest. "Especially military parties."
Jack didn't say anything. What was there to say? He thought he'd regret it in the morning, too. He thought he hated parties, always had, since high school. He thought he wished he'd excused himself early, too.
SG-1 chattered on, shining in the light of the lava lamp Teal'c had been given last year at Christmas. Jack stood, not tipsy at all, drunk off his ass but not tired yet. Sam threw back her head and laughed, and Daniel smiled, a bright, genuine smile, and Teal'c nodded stoically, but Jack knew the corners of his lips were quirked in amusement.
And Jack loved them.
Tomorrow, when the sun rose, tomorrow he would regret this. Tomorrow he would retire. Tomorrow, they were going public. He and Kinsey both had blackmail material now; there would be political maneuvering and shadowy dealings. There would be regrets in the morning, and promises never to do it again, and Daniel to think about, and worlds to explore, and worlds they would never explore, because who knew what the Aschen would forbid? Jack wanted to sit with his team forever, but he couldn't bear to look at their joy anymore, so he excused himself. When he left, they were still laughing.