Stargate -- "Jealous of Your Cigarette"
slash_100, prompt 019: Him
big damn table
Also written for au100, prompt 088: He
half-sized damn table
I'm jealous of your cigarette,
And the pleasure that you get from it,
And not me.
Jealous of Your Cigarette | Prompt 019: Him | NC-17 | 6377 words
It was the cigarettes that Jack noticed first, hand-rolled ones smoked no-hands and smelling vaguely of cloves. Jack had smoked for years himself, but he had to admit he'd never been able to balance a cigarette in the corner of his mouth as effectively, much less actually smoke it once it was there. But somehow those cigarettes never fell, only leaving that mouth to allow for a sip of scotch, always served on the rocks.
It was the mouth he noticed next, surprisingly pink and bow-shaped considering that it was usually surrounded by 5 o'clock shadow by the time Jack walked into the bar each evening. A pair of glasses hovered above, the eyes hiding behind them still a mystery. A pair of full, mobile eyebrows, and then a mop of brown hair, sun-streaked blonde in places and messily finger-combed.
He had a strong neck attached to broad shoulders clad in plain button-down shirts, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up over tanned arms dusted with golden hair, herringbone tweed jackets with elbow patches hanging on the coat rack next to the booth. Jack had never seen the man outside of his usual booth, papers spread all over the table in front of him, but Jack imagined that he was tall and fit and even more gorgeous than he was bent over a pile of paper. Because while Jack had never seen the man standing up, he had to admit he was one of the hottest men Jack had ever seen.
And the way he made love to his cigarette did things to Jack’s insides that made it difficult to nonchalantly sit on a barstool and drink his beer. Jack wanted to intimately acquaint himself with that mouth, but the guy gave off such an air of “noli me tangere” that Jack couldn’t even get up the guts to say hi, much less ask him out.
***
It was a blustery November day some two months after Jack had been transferred to his new precinct, and first gone to the bar and seen the man with the hand-rolled cigarettes, when he walked into the bar and didn’t see him. Jack ignored the empty feeling in his belly, ordered his usual Heineken, and settled into his usual stool to watch whatever game was on the nearest TV set. He kept glancing at the empty booth, expecting the man to materialize, but he didn’t.
Jack was almost finished with his beer and starting to think about leaving when the door opened and the man walked in with a gust of cold air. He was wearing an open greatcoat over his usual tweed jacket, button-down, and tie, a beaten-up leather messenger bag over one shoulder and a sour expression on his face. “We were starting to think you weren’t coming,” Janet, one of the bartenders, called from the sink. The man merely grunted and sank into the barstool next to Jack rather than his usual booth. “You want your usual, Professor?” she asked, reaching for a lowball glass.
The man shook his head. “Southern Comfort, neat,” he said, voice as weary as his posture. Janet nodded, picked up a shot glass, poured, and handed him the drink.
“Is it Sha’re, then?” Janet asked, leaning on the bar across from him.
“Of course,” the man said, that delicious mouth twisted into a sardonic grimace-like smile. He picked up the shot glass and tossed it back. “Janet, give me another,” he said, putting the shot glass on the counter, upside down. “It’s not every day that your ex-wife remarries.” Janet poured him another and he lifted the glass high. “A toast! Hodie mihi, cras tibi. What's to me today, tomorrow to you. I wish them both the best of luck.” He tossed the second shot back, deposited his glass on the counter, and took off his coat, draping it over the empty barstool on his other side. “Another, Janet, if you don’t mind.”
“Hey, Janet, put them on my tab,” Jack said as Janet poured the drink. The other man looked at him quizzically, and Jack added, “Any guy with ex-wife troubles has my sympathies.” The other man chuckled, staring into Jack’s eyes for a moment, and took his drink. Oh god, his eyes were blue. But the very fact that he had ex-wife troubles meant that Jack’s chances were slim to none. Though Jack himself had been married...
The man took a cigarette case out of an inside pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. Jack couldn’t help but follow it to the man’s mouth, resisting the urge to groan at the almost orgasmic look on the man’s face when he took the first drag. It took him a minute to realize that the other man was speaking, cigarette perfectly balanced in the corner of his mouth. “I’m Jackson, by the way, Daniel Jackson, and Janet’s going to insist I prefix that with doctor,” he said, glancing at her.
“Three PhDs, Daniel, not something you should overlook,” Janet said, and Jack was amused to note that Jackson blushed.
“I don’t see you mentioning that you have an MD after your name,” Jackson shot back. “Or the fact that you’re only working here nights because your partner is teaching a Masters-level seminar in astrophysics at the university.” Janet sniffed, mock-insulted, and walked away, heading back to the sink, and Jackson laughed, a musical sound that Jack wanted to hear more often.
“Jack O’Neill,” he said and shook the other man’s hand, which was big and warm in his, with calluses in unexpected places. “And I don’t have any fancy letters after my name, but I get by. Cop, though I babysit more than anything else these days,” he clarified when Jackson quirked one expressive eyebrow.
“Is that why your wife left?” Jackson asked after a few minutes’ silence. He was staring straight ahead, the third shot still cradled in his hands. “The fact that you’re a cop?”
“Indirectly,” Jack said, staring into the depths of his glass. It had been something like five years ago, but at times the memories were still fresh. “To letting the past stay where it is,” he said, lifting his glass and draining it.
“Oh, I’ll drink to that,” Jackson said, lifting his shot glass and then tossing it back.
***
The next day, Jackson was in his usual booth, cigarette perched in the corner of his mouth, papers spread on the table and scotch on the rocks just within reach of his right hand. In Jack’s mind, all was right with the world. “Hey, Dr. Jackson,” he said as he sat in his usual stool and nodded when Janet touched the Heineken tap.
“Hey, Jack, come sit with me,” Jackson said once Jack had picked up his beer, causing him to almost dropped it. “I don’t feel like grading papers tonight.” He gathered up the papers in front of him and slid them to the side. “And call me Daniel,” he added as Jack took his beer and sat down across from him in the booth.
“Daniel it is,” Jack agreed, taking a sip of his beer. “So, what do you teach?”
“Anthropology and archaeology, mostly,” Daniel said, taking a drag from his cigarette and twirling a pen idly in his long fingers. “I teach a linguistics class every few years, too, and once in a while I guest lecture for the history department.” Jack was trying really hard to pay attention to what Daniel was saying, he really was, but the other man had put down his pen and was now playing with his cigarette. Jack couldn’t tear his eyes away. “They keep giving me the intro classes, which are always hell to teach.”
“That I can relate to,” Jack said, seizing upon the topic and looking up at Daniel’s face. He tried not to focus on Daniel’s lips, but it was difficult. “New cadets either think they know everything and want to show off or really don’t want to be there.”
“Same thing with college students,” Daniel said, taking a sip from his scotch. “Most of the students in the intro classes are only taking it for credit, anyway, and the rest get a bit cocky.” Daniel lifted his cigarette to his lips and wrapped them around it in a way that made Jack squirm against his suddenly too-tight pants. “So, do you train new cadets?”
“When I happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Jack said, and Daniel laughed in sympathy. “I used to do the beat cop thing, and then I was in homicide, and now I mostly sit around and give advice when the rookies run into something they can’t handle. It’s boring as hell. I’d retire, but I’ve got nothing else to do with myself. Wow, that was morbid.”
“We can say it’s just the beer talking,” Daniel said with a sympathetic look that Jack found comforting rather than condescending. “Plus, it’s Friday, so it’s ok.” Jack had to smile at his utter lack of logic, but it cheered up his oddly-depressed mood.
“Another scotch, Professor?” Janet called from the bar but Daniel shook his head.
“I should be getting home,” he said, shifting his cigarette to its precarious perch at the corner of his mouth and starting to pack the half-graded papers into his bag. “Busy day tomorrow. I have a date,” he said, a slightly lost look on his face for a moment, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was saying.
“You finally ask out that music professor?” Janet asked with a cheeky grin.
“Actually, she asked me out,” Daniel said. He stubbed out his cigarette and stood, tossing the butt in the table’s ashtray and putting on his sport coat, greatcoat, and bag. “See you around, Jack.”
“Yasureyoubetcha,” Jack said without thinking, staring at the spot where Daniel had been sitting. He collapsed back against the booth as soon as the other man had paid his tab and left the bar. Damn. Practically shot down without even saying a word.
Jack downed the rest of his beer and stood. Janet gave him an oddly knowing look as he paid, but guilelessly wished him a good weekend as he left.
***
Jack didn’t come to the bar on the weekends, and he didn’t want to do something suspicious like show up on Saturday or Sunday to see if Daniel was there; he wanted to think he wasn’t that desperate. The professor was at his usual booth on Monday, and Jack picked up his beer from Janet and then moved to the booth. Daniel smiled around his cigarette and gestured for him to sit, putting down the paper he was reading. Jack’s insides fluttered, and he settled on the other side of the booth.
“So, Professor, how’d the date go?” Janet asked from the bar, glancing at Jack, as if she had been waiting for his arrival before asking the question. He blinked innocently at her, but the knowing smile didn’t leave her face.
Daniel groaned, raising a hand to his eyes. “It was a disaster,” he said, and it was all Jack could do to keep from cheering. “I never knew people could get so defensive about opera. She almost bit my head off when I thoughtlessly said I didn’t like it very much.”
“Well, at least you figured that out before you two got married,” Jack tried to joke, and Daniel laughed. “It could have been worse.”
”Oh, without a doubt,” Daniel said. “My first date with my ex-wife comes to mind.” He started in on a story involving a dig in an Egyptian town once called Abydos, a candy bar, a misunderstanding about a local custom, and an accidental marriage, but Jack was paying more attention to the way his hands were moving than what he was actually saying. Daniel didn’t seem to notice.
“So, does that mean you’re back on the market?” Janet asked when Daniel had finished his story. “Because one of Sam’s friends in the physics department really wants to meet you.”
”Fine, fine, whatever,” Daniel said, waving one long-fingered hand. “I can’t promise you anything, though.”
“Just be your charming self, and you’ll have no problem,” Janet said, and Jack could have sworn she winked at him. At Jack, not at Daniel. Either she was really perceptive, or Jack needed to hide better. Probably both, actually. “So, Dr. J, details, details,” Janet urged, and Jack settled in for the long-haul.
***
Over the next month and a half, Jack gave in to his newfound masochism as Daniel recounted horror story after horror story of his recently-revived dating life. After Cecilia, the opera-loving music professor, there was Marie, an astrophysics professor that Daniel was absolutely unable to carry on a conversation with; Indu, an astronomy professor, who all but sent Daniel running screaming from the restaurant when she admitted that she was husband-hunting; and Jennifer, an ER doctor that Janet worked with that Daniel had immediately vetoed when she told him she didn’t like chocolate. Jack was beyond conflicted; he hated Daniel dating other people, and was overjoyed when things didn’t work out, but then he felt guilty for rejoicing when Daniel was unhappy (even if Daniel seemed to find the whole thing rather amusing) and then got angry at himself for letting it get to him at all. There were times when Jack just wanted to get up and leave, but he couldn’t tear himself away, and risk losing what little bit of Daniel he could claim.
Throughout the proceedings, Janet seemed to be interested as much by Jack’s reaction as Daniel’s stories. Daniel tried his hardest to change the subject, but it wasn’t until late December - when his rash of dates gave way to exam week and then the following grading - that he really succeeded.
“Grades were due today,” Daniel said one Friday evening a few days before Christmas. “Will Sam be back next week?”
Janet shook her head. “My professor’s taking the next week off to recover, and then we’ll be trading after the holidays. You know how it is.” Daniel chuckled and nodded.
“You going to visit family anywhere?” Jack asked, glad the conversation had turned to safer topics, but Daniel shook his head with a wistful look.
“Don’t have any,” he said, taking a sip of his scotch and resting his cigarette in the ashtray. “My parents died in an accident when I was young, and my grandfather died in an insane asylum last year.” He gave Jack a rueful grin. “Sha’re and I never managed to have kids, and I don’t have any other family.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me, really; I’ve never really celebrated Christmas or anything.”
Jack was very close to inviting Daniel to spend Christmas with him, since he’d be alone, too, but the look on Daniel’s face had veered into pensive as he contemplated the bottom of his lowball. They sat in rather uncomfortable silence for a while, until Jack had finished his beer and glanced at his watch. “I’ll see you guys in a few weeks,” he said, standing and handing Janet his credit card so he could pay his tab. “I go up to Minnesota for the holidays to pretend to be a grumpy old man.” That got a small smile out of Daniel, and it warmed Jack to his toes.
Janet crooked a finger at Jack as he slipped on his coat, and he leaned over the bar so she could whisper in his ear. “Don’t let him get away, O’Neill,” she said softly, and Jack leaned back, unsure how to reply. “You’ll regret it.”
***
In the end, Jack wound up staying up north well into January; he’d had vacation time piling up, so he stayed a couple extra weeks ice fishing in the property’s small lake and drinking beer. He rather resolutely didn’t think about anything, especially not bow-like lips wrapped around hand-rolled clove cigarettes or big blue eyes half-hidden behind rectangular silver wire-frames. And he certainly didn’t imagine those lips around his dick or those eyes closed in ecstasy when he jerked off each night.
Even after he’d returned to the city, it was almost another week before he was able to stop by the bar to see Daniel; a new batch of recruits had come in that Monday and he’d had his hands full with them well into the evenings until the end of the week. He spent all of Friday complaining about his knees, and was bouncing out the door at a more decent time after T, his partner, had gotten tired of his whining. His first stop, of course, was the bar.
Daniel wasn’t there, though, and neither was Janet. Jack walked over to the bad and waited for the statuesque blonde woman behind it to come over. “Where’s Dr. Jackson?” he asked her, and her slight pleasant bartender smile gave way to a grin.
“So you’re Jack O’Neill,” she said, pouring Jack a Heineken. “Janet and Dr. J’ve told me all about you. I’m Sam Carter, by the way.”
“Really,” Jack said, eyes wide. “You’re not what I was expecting.”
“No, I wouldn’t think so,” Carter said, smile fading. “You’re not going to make something of it, are you?” Jack would have laughed at any other woman who’d said something like that, but this one looked like she would more than hold her own.
Jack shook his head, and Carter relaxed. “Janet’s probably told you a pack of lies about me, then,” he said, playing with his glass.
“Then you’re not in love with Dr. J?” she asked innocently, and Jack almost fell off his barstool. Carter’s grin widened. “Ah, thought so. You going to do anything about it, then?”
“Why should I?” Jack asked miserably, unsure why he was opening up to this woman at all. “We’ve got fuck-all in common. I’ve never even seen him outside of here. And knowing my luck, he’s probably straight as an arrow.”
”I can put your mind to rest on that last one, at least,” she said with a conspiratorial smile. “As we speak, Dr. Daniel Jackson is one a date with one Cameron Mitchell, and ex-patient of Janet’s.” Jack cocked an eyebrow at her and she nodded. “Mr. Mitchell,” she said with emphasis, “is a retired Air Force major, honorably discharged two years ago when some top secret mission left him almost a paraplegic. He’s walking now - only barely needs his cane, I hear - and he’s been dating your Daniel for about three weeks.”
Any jealousy Jack might have felt was killed by the fluttery feeling in his stomach the thought of “his” Daniel gave him. “Does it look serious?” he asked after he’d taken a gulp of beer to center himself.
“Not sure,” Carter said. “He hasn’t brought him home to meet his mother and me,” she said with a grin. “You’ll have to ask him on Monday.”
“Yeah,” Jack said quietly, staring into the bottom of his beer. “I just hope I’m not too late.”
***
Daniel was in his usual seat on Monday, and looked up excitedly when Jack came in. “Jack, you’re back! How was your trip?” Despite the looks Carter kept throwing him, Jack let himself get caught up in telling Daniel about Minnesota. For once, he had Daniel’s almost undivided attention, even if he continued to futz with his cigarette throughout.
It wasn’t until Wednesday that Carter was able to turn the conversation to Mitchell. Jack listened in despair as Daniel waxed poetic on how wonderful Mitchell was. “It doesn’t bother you that I...that he...well, is a he, right?” Daniel asked earnestly when Jack had gone quiet.
“Oh, no,” Jack said, forcing a smiled; that wasn’t the problem at all. “I’m...you know, too,” he added with a bizarre hand wiggle that made him feel really silly, but Daniel smiled understandingly. “Don’t really make a big deal of it, though.”
”Yeah, me neither,” Daniel said, and went back to talking about Mitchell, about how hopeless he was a chess and how he was back in school so he could get another degree and get a job with an aeronautics firm. Jack guessed the day was a victory, especially when Daniel clapped him on the shoulder as he stood to hoist his bag and leave. Jack grinned at Carter when he left sometime later, ignoring her accusatory look. He wasn’t stalling, not at all.
***
“So, if you’re not busy, do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow night?” Daniel asked, and Jack almost fell out of the booth. Daniel smiled slightly, as if he’d said something mildly amusing, and took a sip of his scotch.
It was a Thursday night, a few weeks after Jack had gotten back from vacation. Daniel was well into the semester, it seemed, because he spent much more time writing tests and grading papers than he did talking. He still invited Jack to sit in his booth, though, and Jack relished in the chance to watch Daniel savor his scotch, chew on his pen, mumble to himself, and make love to his cigarette while he worked. Jack had also hoped that the almost daily exposure - he still didn’t come to the bar on weekends, and Daniel had stopped coming on Fridays - would cure his jealousy, but that plan had yet to be successful.
“What about that Mitchell guy?” Jack managed to choke out, and a momentary grimace crossed his face.
“I broke it off with him,” Daniel replied. “Cam’s a health nut, he kept giving me a hard time about all the cookies and coffee I consume, the glass or two of scotch a day, you know. I just got tired of him trying to convince me to quit smoking,” he added conspiratorially. Daniel looked so hot with a cigarette between his lips; Jack couldn’t imagine how anyone could look beyond that to try to convince him to quit.
“I know it’s bad for me, of course,” Daniel continued. “And I’ve been meaning to quit for years, but giving me a hard time about it all the time isn’t the way to go.” He sighed, exhaling a tendril of smoke. “He used to complain about the smell.”
“I don’t know, I like the clove-y scent,” Jack said before he could think about it, and Daniel cocked an eyebrow. “It’s exotic,” he added with a shrug.
“You a smoker?” Daniel asked, resting his head in his raised hands and looking right at Jack. That bright blue gaze held him captivated, and it took him a minute to find his tongue.
“Yeah, but my wife got me to quit when...when Charlie was born. My son,” he added by way of explanation. “He shot himself with my off-duty piece about five years back.” Daniel’s expression was heartrendingly sympathetic without being pitying, and for the first time Jack felt almost comfortable talking about it. “After he died and Sara left, I lapsed back into it, but Teal’c, my partner at the precinct, keeps me at less than a pack a week.”
“You never answered my question,” Daniel changed the subject, and Jack smiled at the welcome interruption. Daniel’s answering smile was all the proof he needed to know that Daniel knew, too. “Jack?”
Something about the moment made Jack bold, and he reached over and took the cigarette from between Daniel’s lips, placing it between his own and taking a drag. His insides fluttered as he watched Daniel, whose eyes had darkened and he was licking his lips. He took another drag, savoring the taste of the smoke on his tongue and the buzz of the nicotine, and exhaled. “Sure,” he said, glad he’d succeeded in sounding nonchalant after the daring move. “I get off at six. I’ll meet you on the campus at half past?”
Daniel’s eyes went even darker at the innuendo and he took the cigarette back. “In front of the archeology building,” he said, taking a nervous sip of his scotch. He lowered his voice, tone going deep and husky. “I can’t wait.”
***
Jack was so fidgety the next day, T spent about half of it telling him to stop moving. His eyes barely left the clock from 5:30 on, and he was out the door at the stroke of six. He knew he’d be getting hell from the rest of the precinct on Monday, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. After all, he had a date.
He was running early so he loitered outside the archeology building, shoulders hunched against the March wind, scuffing his shoes against the pavement and wondering whether he should have worn a tie. Daniel didn’t appear by 6:30, nor by 6:35, and by 6:40 Jack was starting to fear that he’d been stood up. But Daniel appeared five minutes later, hurrying out of the building with a gaggle of undergrads on his heels. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” he said, unexpectedly giving Jack a hug, and Jack’s arms came up automatically to wrap around him. He was so warm, it made Jack shiver. “I totally forgot to cancel my office hours, and they tend to run over.”
Daniel stepped back and grabbed Jack’s hand, tucking their linked hands in Jack’s coat pocket. Jack could swear a few of the undergrads sighed unhappily as they left, but he wasn’t really paying attention. Daniel’s hand had calluses in unexpected places; not just those from holding a pen, and in different places than the ones that came from firing a gun. Jack wasn’t one for PDA, especially with guys, but he liked holding Daniel’s hand. “So, where do you want to go?”
“There’s a great diner about two blocks that way, vintage 1950s-style,” Daniel said, pointing. “I go there all they time, they make great burgers.”
“Sounds great,” Jack said. “Do we need to pick up your car, or can we walk?”
“I don’t own a car,” Daniel said sheepishly. He might have been blushing, too, but the wind had already turned his cheeks red. “Unneeded expense, especially with gas prices what they are.”
“Cool, me neither,” Jack said breezily and Daniel seemed to relax. “The city’s got great public transportation, and I like to walk.” He let Daniel tug him down the street, babbling about the history of the diner, enjoying the sound of Daniel’s voice and the feel of his hand, warm in Jack’s own.
The owner, a dark-haired woman who’s nametag said “Vala” on it in block print, greeted Daniel by name when they entered the diner and seated them at what she called “your usual table, Dr. J”. Vala came over again a few minutes later, flirted outrageously with Daniel until he jokingly threatened to leave, and then moved on to checking out Jack. “So this is the silver fox you’ve been telling me about, then?” she asked, and Jack stopped pretending to ignore her.
Daniel did blush then and shooed her away. “You’ve been talking about me?” Jack asked. “Good things, I hope.” Daniel hid behind his menu, mumbling something Jack couldn’t hear, and Jack grinned.
They decided on burgers, fries, and milkshakes in the end, and the food was very good, even though Jack barely tasted any of it on the way down. He and Daniel talked, about sports and the weather and silly “getting to know you” things that felt rather ridiculously first-date-like considering that they’d known each other for more six months, but without all the usual first date awkwardness. They fought over paying the bill, with Daniel eventually winning, purely because he’d invited Jack out in the first place.
Jack reached for Daniel’s hand when they walked out of the diner, after Daniel had lit up a cigarette, and Daniel smiled brightly at him. “Walk me home?” he asked, eyelashes fluttering comically, but there seemed to be a serious edge to the question underneath.
“Sure,” Jack said, utterly failing once again to sound nonchalant. “Lead on, Dr. J.” Daniel laughed and the began a slow stroll down the street. It was a clear night, and cold, but Jack didn’t feel the wind at all.
***
Daniel lived in a thin, eight-storey building in the older part of town. They stood outside the building for a minute, and Jack could feel a certain awkwardness seeping into the conversation. He’d never really dated men - just fooled around - so Jack had no idea what etiquette dictated should happen next. Daniel seemed to sense this, because he smiled slightly and asked, “Do you want to come up for coffee?”
"Sure," Jack said. He followed Daniel inside the building to a creaky old elevator and up to the sixth floor. Daniel had let go of Jack’s hand to unlock the front door, but he stood close to Jack in the elevator and rested his hand on Jack’s lower back as they exited the small space.
Daniel’s apartment was one of two on the floor, and reminded Jack of a museum when they stepped inside. The main room had wall-to-wall bookshelves full to bursting with books interspersed with oddly painted pottery and funny-looking statues. Daniel seemed very tense while Jack looked around, but instantly relaxed when Jack said, “Sweet set-up you’ve got here.”
“Thanks,” Daniel said, dumping his bag next to the desk in the corner and hanging his coat in a tiny closet by the front door. “Let me take your coat.” He helped Jack slip off his coat and hung it up as well. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll go put up the coffee.” He went through an opening into a small, utilitarian kitchen. Jack looked around at the shelves for a bit, but many of the books weren’t in English, so he settled on the worn by comfy couch.
Daniel stuck his head out into the main room a few minutes later, a question on his face. “I drink my coffee black,” Jack said before Daniel could ask, and was rewarded with a heart-stopping smile. “Did I just pass a test or something?” he asked when Daniel walked into the room with two steaming, mismatched mugs in hand.
“I’m a bit of a coffee snob,” Daniel said sheepishly, sitting down next to Jack and handing him one of the mugs. “But it’s not a deal-breaker if someone likes cream or sugar.”
They savored their coffee in silence, but Jack found his attention drawn to Daniel’s face: those sinful lips, the way his expression became blissful with every sip. Daniel caught on eventually, and put his cup down, eyebrow raised quizzically. He gasped softly when Jack cupped his jaw and trailed his thumb over Daniel’s full lower lip. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you,” Jack admitted, surprised at how deep his voice had gone.
Daniel sucked his thumb into his mouth and it was Jack’s turn to gasp as Daniel sucked on his thumb and delicately swirled his tongue over the tip. He released the digit, eyes dark. “Bedroom?” he asked huskily, and Jack could only nod.
***
Any fantasies Jack had had about Daniel’s mouth paled in comparison to the real thing: his full lips were warm and soft and he was an amazing kisser. He’d pulled Jack to his feet and right into a kiss, but rather than being awkward, it was hot as hell. Jack tangled his fingers in Daniel’s hair, cupping the back of his head. One of Daniel’s hands settled heavy and sure on Jack’s hip, arm snug around his waist, and the other on his shoulder, thumb caressing the base of Jack’s throat.
Daniel took a step back without letting go and Jack stumbled forward, breaking the kiss with a gasp. “Bedroom,” Daniel reminded him, whispering against his mouth, and Jack let himself be led, renewing the kiss. It wasn’t graceful, and they probably looked pretty silly, but by the time Daniel’s back impacted with the closed bedroom door, they were both naked from the waist up, and Jack’s pants were undone. Daniel fumbled with the knob, and then they tumbled into the room, dark except for the moonlight coming in the uncurtained windows.
Daniel continued to walk backwards until they were against the bed and then sat on the edge, pulling Jack between his spread knees. He slipped his hands into the back of Jack’s loosened jeans, cupping his bare ass, and then pushed them and his boxers down past his knees. For a moment, Jack debated stepping back to step out of his clothes, but Daniel wrapped one hand around his cock and then took the head into his mouth.
Jack’s eyes rolled up into his head and his hands fluttered uselessly before settling on Daniel’s head. Daniel was...there were no words to describe what it felt like to have Daniel’s mouth wrapped around his cock. All rational thought fled Jack’s head. His last thought was that he’d been right to envy Daniel’s cigarettes the first time he’d seen him.
All too soon, though, Jack was pulled out of his reverie by cold air on his throbbing dick. He was on the verge of coming, but Daniel had released his dick. “Whu?” he asked, brain not quite engaged, but Daniel smirked up at him.
“I want to be inside you,” he said huskily, and Jack moaned at the very idea, dropping a hand to his cock and squeezing the base to keep himself from coming on the spot. Daniel rightly took that as agreement, and suddenly Jack found himself flat on his back on the bed. Daniel dumped Jack’s shoes, socks, pants, and boxers on the floor and then stripped out of his own clothes. He got back onto the bed, kneeling between Jack’s spread legs, and Jack pulled him down for a kiss, not letting him back up until they were both breathless.
“Lube,” Jack gasped out, and Daniel nodded. He leaned up over Jack to reach the bedside table, presenting Jack with his smooth chest, and he caught one of Daniel’s nipples between his lips. Daniel shuddered and moaned, and Jack made a mental note to pursue that lead later. Daniel returned with lube and a condom, placing the former next to Jack’s head on the pillow and quickly putting on the latter. He took the tube again and slicked his fingers. Jack put his feet flat on the bed, raising his knees, and waited. He expected to feel Daniel’s fingers, but the other man bent even farther over and Jack felt an entirely different sensation against his hole. Oh God, Daniel was rimming him. Jack screamed and came.
When he came back to himself, he noticed that Daniel had two fingers up his ass and a smirk on his face. “I’m flattered,” he said, leaning down to kiss Jack’s mouth and scissoring his fingers. “That wasn’t what I’d been planning. Think you can do that again?” Jack managed a nod and Daniel smiled, ghosting a fingertip over his prostate. Jack gasped, hips coming up off the bed, cock astonishingly beginning to fill once more.
“Enough,” Jack said sometime later, and Daniel blinked at him. “Do it now.” Daniel smiled brightly and Jack could swear his heart skipped a beat. Daniel lubed his cock and got into position. He was moving much too slowly for Jack’s taste, so he wrapped his legs around Daniel’s waist, ankles pressed to the small of his back, and forced him closer. “Move, Danny.”
Daniel gasped against his throat and took him at his word, sliding in the rest of the way with one smooth thrust. They lay panting for a moment while Jack adjusted to the welcome intrusion and then he shifted his hips, drawing a low moan out of the man on top of him. Daniel gathered his weight onto his elbows and started to move.
All in all, it was over quickly. They were both ridiculously close, though Daniel had amazing stamina because Jack came first, and it seemed to be the contractions of his internal muscles that drove Daniel over the edge. He collapsed onto Jack, a panting, welcome weight, and Jack wrapped his arms around Daniel’s back, letting his legs relax onto the bed when Daniel’s softening cock slid out of his body. He knees were going to hate him in the morning, but he didn’t care. Daniel shifted and Jack let him get up to throw out the condom and then he was back, head pillowed on Jack’s shoulder. Together they pulled up the blanket, and Jack drifted off to sleep, a smile on his face.
***
“You know, I think we should introduce Teal’c to Cam,” Daniel said with a laugh after Jack finished his story of how T had made him vastly decrease his cigarette intake. “They sound like they’d get along.”
“They’d both be yelling at us right now,” Jack agreed. They were curled up naked in Daniel’s big bed, drinking coffee and sharing a cigarette between them.
“I could never do this with Cam,” Daniel said wistfully. He settled back more fully against Jack’s chest with a contented sigh, but Jack frowned. “What’s wrong, Jack?”
“Did you just do this because of him?” Jack asked, and Daniel blinked up at him, confused. “Did you only ask me out tonight because you’re on the rebound from Mitchell?”
“No!” Daniel denied, turning to face Jack. “I was attracted to you from the first time you walked into the bar, but I was convinced you were straight.” He brought his hand up to brush his knuckles over Jack’s cheeks. “Cam Mitchell and I were never going to last, and I left when I realized I had better options,” he added with a slow smile.
Jack still felt a little unsure, but he kissed him, tasting clove-flavored smoke on his lips. “That was ridiculously sweet,” he said, kissing him again. “Janet and Sam are going to laugh at us for taking this long, then.”
“I guess we deserve it,” Daniel said, taking another drag on the cigarette. Jack still couldn’t get over how hot Daniel looked with a cigarette between lips. He put the cigarette in the ash tray and the mugs on the bedside table. “But I think we should be making up for lost time now, not talking.” Jack grinned and didn’t protest as Daniel dragged him back down into the bed.
Feedback is better than chocolate.
big damn table
Also written for au100, prompt 088: He
half-sized damn table
I'm jealous of your cigarette,
And the pleasure that you get from it,
And not me.
Jealous of Your Cigarette | Prompt 019: Him | NC-17 | 6377 words
It was the cigarettes that Jack noticed first, hand-rolled ones smoked no-hands and smelling vaguely of cloves. Jack had smoked for years himself, but he had to admit he'd never been able to balance a cigarette in the corner of his mouth as effectively, much less actually smoke it once it was there. But somehow those cigarettes never fell, only leaving that mouth to allow for a sip of scotch, always served on the rocks.
It was the mouth he noticed next, surprisingly pink and bow-shaped considering that it was usually surrounded by 5 o'clock shadow by the time Jack walked into the bar each evening. A pair of glasses hovered above, the eyes hiding behind them still a mystery. A pair of full, mobile eyebrows, and then a mop of brown hair, sun-streaked blonde in places and messily finger-combed.
He had a strong neck attached to broad shoulders clad in plain button-down shirts, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up over tanned arms dusted with golden hair, herringbone tweed jackets with elbow patches hanging on the coat rack next to the booth. Jack had never seen the man outside of his usual booth, papers spread all over the table in front of him, but Jack imagined that he was tall and fit and even more gorgeous than he was bent over a pile of paper. Because while Jack had never seen the man standing up, he had to admit he was one of the hottest men Jack had ever seen.
And the way he made love to his cigarette did things to Jack’s insides that made it difficult to nonchalantly sit on a barstool and drink his beer. Jack wanted to intimately acquaint himself with that mouth, but the guy gave off such an air of “noli me tangere” that Jack couldn’t even get up the guts to say hi, much less ask him out.
***
It was a blustery November day some two months after Jack had been transferred to his new precinct, and first gone to the bar and seen the man with the hand-rolled cigarettes, when he walked into the bar and didn’t see him. Jack ignored the empty feeling in his belly, ordered his usual Heineken, and settled into his usual stool to watch whatever game was on the nearest TV set. He kept glancing at the empty booth, expecting the man to materialize, but he didn’t.
Jack was almost finished with his beer and starting to think about leaving when the door opened and the man walked in with a gust of cold air. He was wearing an open greatcoat over his usual tweed jacket, button-down, and tie, a beaten-up leather messenger bag over one shoulder and a sour expression on his face. “We were starting to think you weren’t coming,” Janet, one of the bartenders, called from the sink. The man merely grunted and sank into the barstool next to Jack rather than his usual booth. “You want your usual, Professor?” she asked, reaching for a lowball glass.
The man shook his head. “Southern Comfort, neat,” he said, voice as weary as his posture. Janet nodded, picked up a shot glass, poured, and handed him the drink.
“Is it Sha’re, then?” Janet asked, leaning on the bar across from him.
“Of course,” the man said, that delicious mouth twisted into a sardonic grimace-like smile. He picked up the shot glass and tossed it back. “Janet, give me another,” he said, putting the shot glass on the counter, upside down. “It’s not every day that your ex-wife remarries.” Janet poured him another and he lifted the glass high. “A toast! Hodie mihi, cras tibi. What's to me today, tomorrow to you. I wish them both the best of luck.” He tossed the second shot back, deposited his glass on the counter, and took off his coat, draping it over the empty barstool on his other side. “Another, Janet, if you don’t mind.”
“Hey, Janet, put them on my tab,” Jack said as Janet poured the drink. The other man looked at him quizzically, and Jack added, “Any guy with ex-wife troubles has my sympathies.” The other man chuckled, staring into Jack’s eyes for a moment, and took his drink. Oh god, his eyes were blue. But the very fact that he had ex-wife troubles meant that Jack’s chances were slim to none. Though Jack himself had been married...
The man took a cigarette case out of an inside pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. Jack couldn’t help but follow it to the man’s mouth, resisting the urge to groan at the almost orgasmic look on the man’s face when he took the first drag. It took him a minute to realize that the other man was speaking, cigarette perfectly balanced in the corner of his mouth. “I’m Jackson, by the way, Daniel Jackson, and Janet’s going to insist I prefix that with doctor,” he said, glancing at her.
“Three PhDs, Daniel, not something you should overlook,” Janet said, and Jack was amused to note that Jackson blushed.
“I don’t see you mentioning that you have an MD after your name,” Jackson shot back. “Or the fact that you’re only working here nights because your partner is teaching a Masters-level seminar in astrophysics at the university.” Janet sniffed, mock-insulted, and walked away, heading back to the sink, and Jackson laughed, a musical sound that Jack wanted to hear more often.
“Jack O’Neill,” he said and shook the other man’s hand, which was big and warm in his, with calluses in unexpected places. “And I don’t have any fancy letters after my name, but I get by. Cop, though I babysit more than anything else these days,” he clarified when Jackson quirked one expressive eyebrow.
“Is that why your wife left?” Jackson asked after a few minutes’ silence. He was staring straight ahead, the third shot still cradled in his hands. “The fact that you’re a cop?”
“Indirectly,” Jack said, staring into the depths of his glass. It had been something like five years ago, but at times the memories were still fresh. “To letting the past stay where it is,” he said, lifting his glass and draining it.
“Oh, I’ll drink to that,” Jackson said, lifting his shot glass and then tossing it back.
***
The next day, Jackson was in his usual booth, cigarette perched in the corner of his mouth, papers spread on the table and scotch on the rocks just within reach of his right hand. In Jack’s mind, all was right with the world. “Hey, Dr. Jackson,” he said as he sat in his usual stool and nodded when Janet touched the Heineken tap.
“Hey, Jack, come sit with me,” Jackson said once Jack had picked up his beer, causing him to almost dropped it. “I don’t feel like grading papers tonight.” He gathered up the papers in front of him and slid them to the side. “And call me Daniel,” he added as Jack took his beer and sat down across from him in the booth.
“Daniel it is,” Jack agreed, taking a sip of his beer. “So, what do you teach?”
“Anthropology and archaeology, mostly,” Daniel said, taking a drag from his cigarette and twirling a pen idly in his long fingers. “I teach a linguistics class every few years, too, and once in a while I guest lecture for the history department.” Jack was trying really hard to pay attention to what Daniel was saying, he really was, but the other man had put down his pen and was now playing with his cigarette. Jack couldn’t tear his eyes away. “They keep giving me the intro classes, which are always hell to teach.”
“That I can relate to,” Jack said, seizing upon the topic and looking up at Daniel’s face. He tried not to focus on Daniel’s lips, but it was difficult. “New cadets either think they know everything and want to show off or really don’t want to be there.”
“Same thing with college students,” Daniel said, taking a sip from his scotch. “Most of the students in the intro classes are only taking it for credit, anyway, and the rest get a bit cocky.” Daniel lifted his cigarette to his lips and wrapped them around it in a way that made Jack squirm against his suddenly too-tight pants. “So, do you train new cadets?”
“When I happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Jack said, and Daniel laughed in sympathy. “I used to do the beat cop thing, and then I was in homicide, and now I mostly sit around and give advice when the rookies run into something they can’t handle. It’s boring as hell. I’d retire, but I’ve got nothing else to do with myself. Wow, that was morbid.”
“We can say it’s just the beer talking,” Daniel said with a sympathetic look that Jack found comforting rather than condescending. “Plus, it’s Friday, so it’s ok.” Jack had to smile at his utter lack of logic, but it cheered up his oddly-depressed mood.
“Another scotch, Professor?” Janet called from the bar but Daniel shook his head.
“I should be getting home,” he said, shifting his cigarette to its precarious perch at the corner of his mouth and starting to pack the half-graded papers into his bag. “Busy day tomorrow. I have a date,” he said, a slightly lost look on his face for a moment, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was saying.
“You finally ask out that music professor?” Janet asked with a cheeky grin.
“Actually, she asked me out,” Daniel said. He stubbed out his cigarette and stood, tossing the butt in the table’s ashtray and putting on his sport coat, greatcoat, and bag. “See you around, Jack.”
“Yasureyoubetcha,” Jack said without thinking, staring at the spot where Daniel had been sitting. He collapsed back against the booth as soon as the other man had paid his tab and left the bar. Damn. Practically shot down without even saying a word.
Jack downed the rest of his beer and stood. Janet gave him an oddly knowing look as he paid, but guilelessly wished him a good weekend as he left.
***
Jack didn’t come to the bar on the weekends, and he didn’t want to do something suspicious like show up on Saturday or Sunday to see if Daniel was there; he wanted to think he wasn’t that desperate. The professor was at his usual booth on Monday, and Jack picked up his beer from Janet and then moved to the booth. Daniel smiled around his cigarette and gestured for him to sit, putting down the paper he was reading. Jack’s insides fluttered, and he settled on the other side of the booth.
“So, Professor, how’d the date go?” Janet asked from the bar, glancing at Jack, as if she had been waiting for his arrival before asking the question. He blinked innocently at her, but the knowing smile didn’t leave her face.
Daniel groaned, raising a hand to his eyes. “It was a disaster,” he said, and it was all Jack could do to keep from cheering. “I never knew people could get so defensive about opera. She almost bit my head off when I thoughtlessly said I didn’t like it very much.”
“Well, at least you figured that out before you two got married,” Jack tried to joke, and Daniel laughed. “It could have been worse.”
”Oh, without a doubt,” Daniel said. “My first date with my ex-wife comes to mind.” He started in on a story involving a dig in an Egyptian town once called Abydos, a candy bar, a misunderstanding about a local custom, and an accidental marriage, but Jack was paying more attention to the way his hands were moving than what he was actually saying. Daniel didn’t seem to notice.
“So, does that mean you’re back on the market?” Janet asked when Daniel had finished his story. “Because one of Sam’s friends in the physics department really wants to meet you.”
”Fine, fine, whatever,” Daniel said, waving one long-fingered hand. “I can’t promise you anything, though.”
“Just be your charming self, and you’ll have no problem,” Janet said, and Jack could have sworn she winked at him. At Jack, not at Daniel. Either she was really perceptive, or Jack needed to hide better. Probably both, actually. “So, Dr. J, details, details,” Janet urged, and Jack settled in for the long-haul.
***
Over the next month and a half, Jack gave in to his newfound masochism as Daniel recounted horror story after horror story of his recently-revived dating life. After Cecilia, the opera-loving music professor, there was Marie, an astrophysics professor that Daniel was absolutely unable to carry on a conversation with; Indu, an astronomy professor, who all but sent Daniel running screaming from the restaurant when she admitted that she was husband-hunting; and Jennifer, an ER doctor that Janet worked with that Daniel had immediately vetoed when she told him she didn’t like chocolate. Jack was beyond conflicted; he hated Daniel dating other people, and was overjoyed when things didn’t work out, but then he felt guilty for rejoicing when Daniel was unhappy (even if Daniel seemed to find the whole thing rather amusing) and then got angry at himself for letting it get to him at all. There were times when Jack just wanted to get up and leave, but he couldn’t tear himself away, and risk losing what little bit of Daniel he could claim.
Throughout the proceedings, Janet seemed to be interested as much by Jack’s reaction as Daniel’s stories. Daniel tried his hardest to change the subject, but it wasn’t until late December - when his rash of dates gave way to exam week and then the following grading - that he really succeeded.
“Grades were due today,” Daniel said one Friday evening a few days before Christmas. “Will Sam be back next week?”
Janet shook her head. “My professor’s taking the next week off to recover, and then we’ll be trading after the holidays. You know how it is.” Daniel chuckled and nodded.
“You going to visit family anywhere?” Jack asked, glad the conversation had turned to safer topics, but Daniel shook his head with a wistful look.
“Don’t have any,” he said, taking a sip of his scotch and resting his cigarette in the ashtray. “My parents died in an accident when I was young, and my grandfather died in an insane asylum last year.” He gave Jack a rueful grin. “Sha’re and I never managed to have kids, and I don’t have any other family.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me, really; I’ve never really celebrated Christmas or anything.”
Jack was very close to inviting Daniel to spend Christmas with him, since he’d be alone, too, but the look on Daniel’s face had veered into pensive as he contemplated the bottom of his lowball. They sat in rather uncomfortable silence for a while, until Jack had finished his beer and glanced at his watch. “I’ll see you guys in a few weeks,” he said, standing and handing Janet his credit card so he could pay his tab. “I go up to Minnesota for the holidays to pretend to be a grumpy old man.” That got a small smile out of Daniel, and it warmed Jack to his toes.
Janet crooked a finger at Jack as he slipped on his coat, and he leaned over the bar so she could whisper in his ear. “Don’t let him get away, O’Neill,” she said softly, and Jack leaned back, unsure how to reply. “You’ll regret it.”
***
In the end, Jack wound up staying up north well into January; he’d had vacation time piling up, so he stayed a couple extra weeks ice fishing in the property’s small lake and drinking beer. He rather resolutely didn’t think about anything, especially not bow-like lips wrapped around hand-rolled clove cigarettes or big blue eyes half-hidden behind rectangular silver wire-frames. And he certainly didn’t imagine those lips around his dick or those eyes closed in ecstasy when he jerked off each night.
Even after he’d returned to the city, it was almost another week before he was able to stop by the bar to see Daniel; a new batch of recruits had come in that Monday and he’d had his hands full with them well into the evenings until the end of the week. He spent all of Friday complaining about his knees, and was bouncing out the door at a more decent time after T, his partner, had gotten tired of his whining. His first stop, of course, was the bar.
Daniel wasn’t there, though, and neither was Janet. Jack walked over to the bad and waited for the statuesque blonde woman behind it to come over. “Where’s Dr. Jackson?” he asked her, and her slight pleasant bartender smile gave way to a grin.
“So you’re Jack O’Neill,” she said, pouring Jack a Heineken. “Janet and Dr. J’ve told me all about you. I’m Sam Carter, by the way.”
“Really,” Jack said, eyes wide. “You’re not what I was expecting.”
“No, I wouldn’t think so,” Carter said, smile fading. “You’re not going to make something of it, are you?” Jack would have laughed at any other woman who’d said something like that, but this one looked like she would more than hold her own.
Jack shook his head, and Carter relaxed. “Janet’s probably told you a pack of lies about me, then,” he said, playing with his glass.
“Then you’re not in love with Dr. J?” she asked innocently, and Jack almost fell off his barstool. Carter’s grin widened. “Ah, thought so. You going to do anything about it, then?”
“Why should I?” Jack asked miserably, unsure why he was opening up to this woman at all. “We’ve got fuck-all in common. I’ve never even seen him outside of here. And knowing my luck, he’s probably straight as an arrow.”
”I can put your mind to rest on that last one, at least,” she said with a conspiratorial smile. “As we speak, Dr. Daniel Jackson is one a date with one Cameron Mitchell, and ex-patient of Janet’s.” Jack cocked an eyebrow at her and she nodded. “Mr. Mitchell,” she said with emphasis, “is a retired Air Force major, honorably discharged two years ago when some top secret mission left him almost a paraplegic. He’s walking now - only barely needs his cane, I hear - and he’s been dating your Daniel for about three weeks.”
Any jealousy Jack might have felt was killed by the fluttery feeling in his stomach the thought of “his” Daniel gave him. “Does it look serious?” he asked after he’d taken a gulp of beer to center himself.
“Not sure,” Carter said. “He hasn’t brought him home to meet his mother and me,” she said with a grin. “You’ll have to ask him on Monday.”
“Yeah,” Jack said quietly, staring into the bottom of his beer. “I just hope I’m not too late.”
***
Daniel was in his usual seat on Monday, and looked up excitedly when Jack came in. “Jack, you’re back! How was your trip?” Despite the looks Carter kept throwing him, Jack let himself get caught up in telling Daniel about Minnesota. For once, he had Daniel’s almost undivided attention, even if he continued to futz with his cigarette throughout.
It wasn’t until Wednesday that Carter was able to turn the conversation to Mitchell. Jack listened in despair as Daniel waxed poetic on how wonderful Mitchell was. “It doesn’t bother you that I...that he...well, is a he, right?” Daniel asked earnestly when Jack had gone quiet.
“Oh, no,” Jack said, forcing a smiled; that wasn’t the problem at all. “I’m...you know, too,” he added with a bizarre hand wiggle that made him feel really silly, but Daniel smiled understandingly. “Don’t really make a big deal of it, though.”
”Yeah, me neither,” Daniel said, and went back to talking about Mitchell, about how hopeless he was a chess and how he was back in school so he could get another degree and get a job with an aeronautics firm. Jack guessed the day was a victory, especially when Daniel clapped him on the shoulder as he stood to hoist his bag and leave. Jack grinned at Carter when he left sometime later, ignoring her accusatory look. He wasn’t stalling, not at all.
***
“So, if you’re not busy, do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow night?” Daniel asked, and Jack almost fell out of the booth. Daniel smiled slightly, as if he’d said something mildly amusing, and took a sip of his scotch.
It was a Thursday night, a few weeks after Jack had gotten back from vacation. Daniel was well into the semester, it seemed, because he spent much more time writing tests and grading papers than he did talking. He still invited Jack to sit in his booth, though, and Jack relished in the chance to watch Daniel savor his scotch, chew on his pen, mumble to himself, and make love to his cigarette while he worked. Jack had also hoped that the almost daily exposure - he still didn’t come to the bar on weekends, and Daniel had stopped coming on Fridays - would cure his jealousy, but that plan had yet to be successful.
“What about that Mitchell guy?” Jack managed to choke out, and a momentary grimace crossed his face.
“I broke it off with him,” Daniel replied. “Cam’s a health nut, he kept giving me a hard time about all the cookies and coffee I consume, the glass or two of scotch a day, you know. I just got tired of him trying to convince me to quit smoking,” he added conspiratorially. Daniel looked so hot with a cigarette between his lips; Jack couldn’t imagine how anyone could look beyond that to try to convince him to quit.
“I know it’s bad for me, of course,” Daniel continued. “And I’ve been meaning to quit for years, but giving me a hard time about it all the time isn’t the way to go.” He sighed, exhaling a tendril of smoke. “He used to complain about the smell.”
“I don’t know, I like the clove-y scent,” Jack said before he could think about it, and Daniel cocked an eyebrow. “It’s exotic,” he added with a shrug.
“You a smoker?” Daniel asked, resting his head in his raised hands and looking right at Jack. That bright blue gaze held him captivated, and it took him a minute to find his tongue.
“Yeah, but my wife got me to quit when...when Charlie was born. My son,” he added by way of explanation. “He shot himself with my off-duty piece about five years back.” Daniel’s expression was heartrendingly sympathetic without being pitying, and for the first time Jack felt almost comfortable talking about it. “After he died and Sara left, I lapsed back into it, but Teal’c, my partner at the precinct, keeps me at less than a pack a week.”
“You never answered my question,” Daniel changed the subject, and Jack smiled at the welcome interruption. Daniel’s answering smile was all the proof he needed to know that Daniel knew, too. “Jack?”
Something about the moment made Jack bold, and he reached over and took the cigarette from between Daniel’s lips, placing it between his own and taking a drag. His insides fluttered as he watched Daniel, whose eyes had darkened and he was licking his lips. He took another drag, savoring the taste of the smoke on his tongue and the buzz of the nicotine, and exhaled. “Sure,” he said, glad he’d succeeded in sounding nonchalant after the daring move. “I get off at six. I’ll meet you on the campus at half past?”
Daniel’s eyes went even darker at the innuendo and he took the cigarette back. “In front of the archeology building,” he said, taking a nervous sip of his scotch. He lowered his voice, tone going deep and husky. “I can’t wait.”
***
Jack was so fidgety the next day, T spent about half of it telling him to stop moving. His eyes barely left the clock from 5:30 on, and he was out the door at the stroke of six. He knew he’d be getting hell from the rest of the precinct on Monday, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. After all, he had a date.
He was running early so he loitered outside the archeology building, shoulders hunched against the March wind, scuffing his shoes against the pavement and wondering whether he should have worn a tie. Daniel didn’t appear by 6:30, nor by 6:35, and by 6:40 Jack was starting to fear that he’d been stood up. But Daniel appeared five minutes later, hurrying out of the building with a gaggle of undergrads on his heels. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” he said, unexpectedly giving Jack a hug, and Jack’s arms came up automatically to wrap around him. He was so warm, it made Jack shiver. “I totally forgot to cancel my office hours, and they tend to run over.”
Daniel stepped back and grabbed Jack’s hand, tucking their linked hands in Jack’s coat pocket. Jack could swear a few of the undergrads sighed unhappily as they left, but he wasn’t really paying attention. Daniel’s hand had calluses in unexpected places; not just those from holding a pen, and in different places than the ones that came from firing a gun. Jack wasn’t one for PDA, especially with guys, but he liked holding Daniel’s hand. “So, where do you want to go?”
“There’s a great diner about two blocks that way, vintage 1950s-style,” Daniel said, pointing. “I go there all they time, they make great burgers.”
“Sounds great,” Jack said. “Do we need to pick up your car, or can we walk?”
“I don’t own a car,” Daniel said sheepishly. He might have been blushing, too, but the wind had already turned his cheeks red. “Unneeded expense, especially with gas prices what they are.”
“Cool, me neither,” Jack said breezily and Daniel seemed to relax. “The city’s got great public transportation, and I like to walk.” He let Daniel tug him down the street, babbling about the history of the diner, enjoying the sound of Daniel’s voice and the feel of his hand, warm in Jack’s own.
The owner, a dark-haired woman who’s nametag said “Vala” on it in block print, greeted Daniel by name when they entered the diner and seated them at what she called “your usual table, Dr. J”. Vala came over again a few minutes later, flirted outrageously with Daniel until he jokingly threatened to leave, and then moved on to checking out Jack. “So this is the silver fox you’ve been telling me about, then?” she asked, and Jack stopped pretending to ignore her.
Daniel did blush then and shooed her away. “You’ve been talking about me?” Jack asked. “Good things, I hope.” Daniel hid behind his menu, mumbling something Jack couldn’t hear, and Jack grinned.
They decided on burgers, fries, and milkshakes in the end, and the food was very good, even though Jack barely tasted any of it on the way down. He and Daniel talked, about sports and the weather and silly “getting to know you” things that felt rather ridiculously first-date-like considering that they’d known each other for more six months, but without all the usual first date awkwardness. They fought over paying the bill, with Daniel eventually winning, purely because he’d invited Jack out in the first place.
Jack reached for Daniel’s hand when they walked out of the diner, after Daniel had lit up a cigarette, and Daniel smiled brightly at him. “Walk me home?” he asked, eyelashes fluttering comically, but there seemed to be a serious edge to the question underneath.
“Sure,” Jack said, utterly failing once again to sound nonchalant. “Lead on, Dr. J.” Daniel laughed and the began a slow stroll down the street. It was a clear night, and cold, but Jack didn’t feel the wind at all.
***
Daniel lived in a thin, eight-storey building in the older part of town. They stood outside the building for a minute, and Jack could feel a certain awkwardness seeping into the conversation. He’d never really dated men - just fooled around - so Jack had no idea what etiquette dictated should happen next. Daniel seemed to sense this, because he smiled slightly and asked, “Do you want to come up for coffee?”
"Sure," Jack said. He followed Daniel inside the building to a creaky old elevator and up to the sixth floor. Daniel had let go of Jack’s hand to unlock the front door, but he stood close to Jack in the elevator and rested his hand on Jack’s lower back as they exited the small space.
Daniel’s apartment was one of two on the floor, and reminded Jack of a museum when they stepped inside. The main room had wall-to-wall bookshelves full to bursting with books interspersed with oddly painted pottery and funny-looking statues. Daniel seemed very tense while Jack looked around, but instantly relaxed when Jack said, “Sweet set-up you’ve got here.”
“Thanks,” Daniel said, dumping his bag next to the desk in the corner and hanging his coat in a tiny closet by the front door. “Let me take your coat.” He helped Jack slip off his coat and hung it up as well. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll go put up the coffee.” He went through an opening into a small, utilitarian kitchen. Jack looked around at the shelves for a bit, but many of the books weren’t in English, so he settled on the worn by comfy couch.
Daniel stuck his head out into the main room a few minutes later, a question on his face. “I drink my coffee black,” Jack said before Daniel could ask, and was rewarded with a heart-stopping smile. “Did I just pass a test or something?” he asked when Daniel walked into the room with two steaming, mismatched mugs in hand.
“I’m a bit of a coffee snob,” Daniel said sheepishly, sitting down next to Jack and handing him one of the mugs. “But it’s not a deal-breaker if someone likes cream or sugar.”
They savored their coffee in silence, but Jack found his attention drawn to Daniel’s face: those sinful lips, the way his expression became blissful with every sip. Daniel caught on eventually, and put his cup down, eyebrow raised quizzically. He gasped softly when Jack cupped his jaw and trailed his thumb over Daniel’s full lower lip. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you,” Jack admitted, surprised at how deep his voice had gone.
Daniel sucked his thumb into his mouth and it was Jack’s turn to gasp as Daniel sucked on his thumb and delicately swirled his tongue over the tip. He released the digit, eyes dark. “Bedroom?” he asked huskily, and Jack could only nod.
***
Any fantasies Jack had had about Daniel’s mouth paled in comparison to the real thing: his full lips were warm and soft and he was an amazing kisser. He’d pulled Jack to his feet and right into a kiss, but rather than being awkward, it was hot as hell. Jack tangled his fingers in Daniel’s hair, cupping the back of his head. One of Daniel’s hands settled heavy and sure on Jack’s hip, arm snug around his waist, and the other on his shoulder, thumb caressing the base of Jack’s throat.
Daniel took a step back without letting go and Jack stumbled forward, breaking the kiss with a gasp. “Bedroom,” Daniel reminded him, whispering against his mouth, and Jack let himself be led, renewing the kiss. It wasn’t graceful, and they probably looked pretty silly, but by the time Daniel’s back impacted with the closed bedroom door, they were both naked from the waist up, and Jack’s pants were undone. Daniel fumbled with the knob, and then they tumbled into the room, dark except for the moonlight coming in the uncurtained windows.
Daniel continued to walk backwards until they were against the bed and then sat on the edge, pulling Jack between his spread knees. He slipped his hands into the back of Jack’s loosened jeans, cupping his bare ass, and then pushed them and his boxers down past his knees. For a moment, Jack debated stepping back to step out of his clothes, but Daniel wrapped one hand around his cock and then took the head into his mouth.
Jack’s eyes rolled up into his head and his hands fluttered uselessly before settling on Daniel’s head. Daniel was...there were no words to describe what it felt like to have Daniel’s mouth wrapped around his cock. All rational thought fled Jack’s head. His last thought was that he’d been right to envy Daniel’s cigarettes the first time he’d seen him.
All too soon, though, Jack was pulled out of his reverie by cold air on his throbbing dick. He was on the verge of coming, but Daniel had released his dick. “Whu?” he asked, brain not quite engaged, but Daniel smirked up at him.
“I want to be inside you,” he said huskily, and Jack moaned at the very idea, dropping a hand to his cock and squeezing the base to keep himself from coming on the spot. Daniel rightly took that as agreement, and suddenly Jack found himself flat on his back on the bed. Daniel dumped Jack’s shoes, socks, pants, and boxers on the floor and then stripped out of his own clothes. He got back onto the bed, kneeling between Jack’s spread legs, and Jack pulled him down for a kiss, not letting him back up until they were both breathless.
“Lube,” Jack gasped out, and Daniel nodded. He leaned up over Jack to reach the bedside table, presenting Jack with his smooth chest, and he caught one of Daniel’s nipples between his lips. Daniel shuddered and moaned, and Jack made a mental note to pursue that lead later. Daniel returned with lube and a condom, placing the former next to Jack’s head on the pillow and quickly putting on the latter. He took the tube again and slicked his fingers. Jack put his feet flat on the bed, raising his knees, and waited. He expected to feel Daniel’s fingers, but the other man bent even farther over and Jack felt an entirely different sensation against his hole. Oh God, Daniel was rimming him. Jack screamed and came.
When he came back to himself, he noticed that Daniel had two fingers up his ass and a smirk on his face. “I’m flattered,” he said, leaning down to kiss Jack’s mouth and scissoring his fingers. “That wasn’t what I’d been planning. Think you can do that again?” Jack managed a nod and Daniel smiled, ghosting a fingertip over his prostate. Jack gasped, hips coming up off the bed, cock astonishingly beginning to fill once more.
“Enough,” Jack said sometime later, and Daniel blinked at him. “Do it now.” Daniel smiled brightly and Jack could swear his heart skipped a beat. Daniel lubed his cock and got into position. He was moving much too slowly for Jack’s taste, so he wrapped his legs around Daniel’s waist, ankles pressed to the small of his back, and forced him closer. “Move, Danny.”
Daniel gasped against his throat and took him at his word, sliding in the rest of the way with one smooth thrust. They lay panting for a moment while Jack adjusted to the welcome intrusion and then he shifted his hips, drawing a low moan out of the man on top of him. Daniel gathered his weight onto his elbows and started to move.
All in all, it was over quickly. They were both ridiculously close, though Daniel had amazing stamina because Jack came first, and it seemed to be the contractions of his internal muscles that drove Daniel over the edge. He collapsed onto Jack, a panting, welcome weight, and Jack wrapped his arms around Daniel’s back, letting his legs relax onto the bed when Daniel’s softening cock slid out of his body. He knees were going to hate him in the morning, but he didn’t care. Daniel shifted and Jack let him get up to throw out the condom and then he was back, head pillowed on Jack’s shoulder. Together they pulled up the blanket, and Jack drifted off to sleep, a smile on his face.
***
“You know, I think we should introduce Teal’c to Cam,” Daniel said with a laugh after Jack finished his story of how T had made him vastly decrease his cigarette intake. “They sound like they’d get along.”
“They’d both be yelling at us right now,” Jack agreed. They were curled up naked in Daniel’s big bed, drinking coffee and sharing a cigarette between them.
“I could never do this with Cam,” Daniel said wistfully. He settled back more fully against Jack’s chest with a contented sigh, but Jack frowned. “What’s wrong, Jack?”
“Did you just do this because of him?” Jack asked, and Daniel blinked up at him, confused. “Did you only ask me out tonight because you’re on the rebound from Mitchell?”
“No!” Daniel denied, turning to face Jack. “I was attracted to you from the first time you walked into the bar, but I was convinced you were straight.” He brought his hand up to brush his knuckles over Jack’s cheeks. “Cam Mitchell and I were never going to last, and I left when I realized I had better options,” he added with a slow smile.
Jack still felt a little unsure, but he kissed him, tasting clove-flavored smoke on his lips. “That was ridiculously sweet,” he said, kissing him again. “Janet and Sam are going to laugh at us for taking this long, then.”
“I guess we deserve it,” Daniel said, taking another drag on the cigarette. Jack still couldn’t get over how hot Daniel looked with a cigarette between lips. He put the cigarette in the ash tray and the mugs on the bedside table. “But I think we should be making up for lost time now, not talking.” Jack grinned and didn’t protest as Daniel dragged him back down into the bed.
Feedback is better than chocolate.