Slash: Jack and Daniel involved in a loving and committed relationship, which usually involves sex.
Rating: R
Category: Angst.  First Time.
Season/Spoilers: Season 5.  Slight canon reference to "Proving Ground".
Synopsis: Everything Jack needs is right before his eyes.
Warnings: Nothing much happens.
Length: 64 Kb

"Look," Jack said reasonably.  "It's late, you've had a drink…" He glanced out the windows at the garden, glittering cuttingly in the stark moonlight.  "And the roads will be slick and treacherous in this weather.  Why don't you stay the night?"

Just stoke the inner furnace a little higher, whydontcha, O'Neill?  Trying out for spontaneous combustion here?

Daniel looked out the window too.  For a long moment Jack thought he would refuse, then he pulled a wry face and slumped back onto the couch.  "Twist my arm, why don't you?" he invited softly, holding up his crystal glass meaningfully.

Jack grinned, getting up to pour another stiff shot of Bushmills for Daniel.  He chose to hold Daniel's hand cupped in his as he coaxed the precious liquid into the antique glass, a legacy from Jack's Nana.

It might come off as if he was steadying the shaky grip of a well-lubricated linguist.

He hoped so.

Only…the linguist held the fragile old crystal with the same contradiction of caution and unacknowledged sensuality that the colonel was holding his linguist's strong, elegant hand, his skin warm and smooth against Jack's palm.

He glanced up from the glass, met and was held by Daniel's eyes, glowing fire-lit brilliance right at him.  His carefully casual glance became an outright stare, one of too damned many for Daniel not to notice.

"I'm good." Daniel moved his hand sharply, an unmistakeable cut-off gesture. Shy now for good reason, he dropped his head uncertainly to stare into his glass, his cheeks flushing.

Jack backed off with an easy comment about the heat of the fire.

Could you be more fucking obvious, O'Neill?  Why don't you just put your hands on him and make the court-martial real quick?

Jack poured himself a stiffer one, set it on the table and dropped back into his seat.  He pulled a cushion onto his lap, cursing the vain impulse that had him wanting to look good in too-tight denim.

He had never looked as good as Daniel, who was stretched out on the couch, one arm pillowed behind his head, the other curved over his hip, consciously held still to hide the tension Jack could clearly see in his slim frame.

Daniel was dressed in jeans too, tighter than Jack was used to seeing him in, accentuating the long, lithe legs, drawing his eye down to the bare feet braced against the other arm of the couch.  The sweater was ribbed, high necked and long sleeved, deceptively simple, the silvery grey framing the ivory tones of Daniel's face.

Jack regretted the way Daniel shifted uncomfortably, their formerly  companionable silence now edged with a hesitance he hadn't seen in his friend since the earliest days of his return from Abydos.  He half-expected Daniel to cut and run; the glass lay untouched on the table.

"I'm hungry," Daniel announced suddenly, overly emphatic, aware of it and wincing reflexively at his own gaucheness.  He swung himself up from the couch and padded up the stairs towards the kitchen.

Jack raised his glass in silent toast as the clinging sweater flowed with the clean, graceful lines of Daniel's body, the soft grey just skimming his ass.  He shifted the pillow to cup his aching erection with slow deliberation.

Porn was no answer.  He'd thrown on his oldest sweats, his jerking off pants, got down and dirty with a coupla beers and a slutty redhead bursting out of a nurse's uniform, getting the ride of her life over an operating table from a surgeon who reminded him disconcertingly of Jimmy Osmond.

The redhead's moans of 'Jesusjesusjesus' - twenty-three, he'd counted them - had irritated him and he'd leaned back, closed his eyes and thought of Daniel's mouth.

He'd thought about sliding his dick like silk between those lush, inviting lips, burying himself in the warmest, tightest spot he'd been in years, Daniel's tongue licking him, hot, massaging pressure working him, rubbing him just right, Christ, just there…

He came right there in his skanky old pants, and when the shaking stopped and he did finally lay a hand on his dick, he was still half-hard and came again thinking about taking Daniel his first time, pushing deep into gripping heat, reaching down to cradle the soft swell of Daniel's belly, feel himself moving inside.  The first.  The only.

"I said," Daniel's patient voice rang out from the kitchen, making Jack jump and snatch his hand clear to rest it on the cushion.  "Do you want something?"


For a freezing, endless moment Jack was sure he'd spoken the word aloud, it hit him so hard.  He looked up to see Daniel hovering at the top of the stairs, watching him intently, appearing incongruously indecisive for the simple matter of which flavour of ice cream to gorge himself on.

"Do…do you want to t-talk about it?" Daniel stuttered, desperately embarrassed yet grimly determined to help.  Instinctive generosity warred with his defences, the mere thought of Jack in need, in pain, utterly defeating him.

Jack's dick throbbed sullen, taking need as Daniel's alluring vulnerability got him totally wired and pounding.  "Talk about what?" he asked evenly, not giving an inch, knowing his gentle and innately honourable friend couldn't stand there and ask him straight out if he was interested.

Interested?  He couldn’t sleep at night.  He got no rest, no peace, no release that wasn't in Daniel. In the field, with what he desired most right there in his hands, under his command, looking to him, needing him, HIS, he was in the game of his fucking life.  He was energised, untouchable, getting right out there and doing it.

He was falling silently apart in his empty house.

He was wrong.  So wrong.  He knew Daniel had never been fucked by a man, never even kissed a man, knew it in his gut.  Daniel had no awareness of other men as sexual beings, none, and worse, so little awareness of his own appeal he'd scare the shit out of old John Wayne, let alone Jack O'Neill.

"I'm not gonna debate this, Daniel."  He wagged a reproving finger, proud of his composure, determined to pull his nuts from the fire before Daniel got burned.  "Don't touch my maple pecan."

Take it, Daniel, take the cue.

He was regretful when Daniel nodded stiffly and turned away without bothering to riposte the latest volley in the ongoing battle over dessert.  Was on his feet and moving before his brain engaged and still failed to stop him in his tracks.

"I hurt you," he said directly as he strode into the kitchen to find Daniel staring blindly at nothing.

"You lied to me," Daniel whispered, seeming to fold in on himself before Jack's eyes.

He pulled Daniel roughly into his arms, not thinking how dangerous it was, caring only that Daniel's confident suppleness was gone, rigidity and resistance in its place.  He was used to Daniel accepting, melting into his touch.  "It's nothing I can talk about."  His tone was harsh, but what he said was true enough.  "Nothing you can help with."

Daniel shifted awkwardly as the words impacted, covering by pulling away.  The pause where he didn't know what to do was long enough Jack caught it.

"I guess."

"Just let it be, Daniel," Jack ordered, glad to hear he sounded a little closer to normal even if Daniel didn't.  "Please."

Daniel turned away to pull open the refrigerator door, taking a carton of ice cream at random.

"Maple?" Jack remembered his cover story at the last minute.

"Mocha."  Daniel rifled through the jumble in the cutlery draw, extracting two spoons.  "It's antisocial to eat ice cream alone."

Jack got it.  Daniel was taking him at his word.  With a vengeance.  What else was a poor linguist to do with a man who could eat him alive but cosy up to him on the couch and drive him insane?  There was no problem.  He had Jack's word for it, while Jack's every look, every move betrayed the lie.

This is one stubborn sonovabitch you've fallen for, O'Neill.  You're completely out of your ever-loving empty fucking mind and you know it.

Like you can help it.

When Daniel sat right next to him, so close the heat of him soaked into Jack's starved body, he had to admire his guts.  It couldn't be easy wondering if every look, every move and touch from his closest friend and erstwhile C.O. was sex.  Not that he thought Daniel was frigid or judgemental or anything.  He was just straight.  Celibate and straight.  Out of his depth, practically jumping out of his skin, drowning and still achingly sweet.

Jack leaned into him, gloating as Daniel refused to be crowded, leaning right back, pressing his warmth and solidity into Jack as he sat silent, voluptuously suckling ice cream from his spoon.  Jack watched entranced as Daniel brooded, intensely aware of his overpowering nearness, the long-coveted scent and feel of him.

You can't do it.  You can't say it.  Don't make it real.  Don't make him leave you.  You only get to fuck you over, O'Neill, not him.  Confused, he can live with.  And so can you.  You cannot, you will not hurt him.

"Do you want to kiss me?" Daniel challenged brusquely, too loud and almost shrill.  He flinched when Jack moved instinctively to protect, deny, reassure.  The scared, deprecating look Daniel shot him as his face flamed shamed Jack when nothing else had.

"No!  No.  That was stupid, I'm sorry.  Sorry," Daniel blurted, agitated now.  "I'm not used to…I…I'm not twelve years old," he said angrily, taking a deep, steadying breath as Jack got up, gave him some room.  "I meant to ask do you want to have sex with me?"

"No," Jack snapped, hating himself for wanting exactly that, for having no control where Daniel was concerned.  He was used up and hiding behind it.  Daniel deserved so much better than a cheap, sordid bastard, a fucking voyeur.

"You look at me as if you do."

"Can I?" Jack asked hoarsely.

"H-have sex with m-me?" Daniel stuttered.

"Kiss you."


Jack looked at Daniel searchingly, shaking his head ruefully at the proud tilt of his chin.

You meant no but you won't back down, huh, Daniel?

Jack walked back to his friend, pulled him up from the couch, resting his hands on the braced shoulders.  Despite the head held high, Daniel was anxious about what Jack would actually do with the carte blanche he'd just been given.  Jack leaned in, holding Daniel's wide eyes with his own, lifting his head at the last moment to brush a kiss against his forehead.  "Goodnight, Daniel."

Daniel jerked under his hands, disbelieving, slow burning humiliation and anger wrenching him free of Jack to run up the stairs without a word.  He stalked down the hallway and disappeared.  A few moments later, the door to Jack's spare room was emphatically closed against him.

Jack scrubbed his palm across his eyes.  Daniel was sensitive about his inability to hold his liquor but gave as good he got when Jack teased him about it.  It was shitty to make Daniel believe his judgement was impaired, that he'd got out of line, made a huge mistake.  He was going to put in a long night of soul searching and in the morning, he'd finish Jack off completely by apologising.

Way to go, O'Neill.

He made the fire safe, checked each of the windows, locked the door and set the alarm, soothed by the mundane familiarity of routine, then made his way to change for bed.  No way was he staying up alone.  Climbing into a bottle of Bushmills wasn't the answer to his problems, or a way to fix what he'd just shit all over Daniel from a great height.

Jack sat on his bed for a moment, looking round the room.  Even after all this time, it was as bland and featureless as a hotel room.  Plain white walls and polished wood, a few plants…just like the rest of his house.  It couldn't be more obvious all he did here was sleep.  There was no sense of shared space or presence.  Just him.  Not quite bleak, just terribly pragmatic.  He hadn't cared enough to make an effort.  It showed.  After six years, this was still where he lived.  He had no love for the place, it wasn't a home.  He pared it down to the essentials and got through his life with the minimum of fuss.

Moving to stand in front of the closet, he unbuttoned his shirt, ingrained habit forcing him to hang his clothes neatly.  Clutter meant delay and delay could kill.

He was used to this.  There was no place for upheaval, for Daniel.  Friends was good.  Friends worked for both of them.  He wanted more, wanted everything, and couldn't have it.  He knew all the reasons why, had worn himself out arguing in circles.

Jack tossed on his old jerk-off pants and crawled into bed, basking for a moment in the warmth and stillness of the house.  He tried not to think about Daniel in the next room and failed miserably.  Every nerve sang with a tension that knotted his gut and filled his dick as he strove to fight his mind clear of all that smooth, golden skin…the flat belly…those long, long legs wrapped around his back as he…

Daniel hadn't drunk his water.  He always did, to stave off dehydration and the inevitable hangover.  No one knew better than Daniel how badly he coped with alcohol.  Jack was on his feet and headed out to the kitchen before he was sure whether his conscience had finally kicked in or his twitching dick was still doing the driving.  All he knew was his mind was filled with siren images of Daniel sleepy and sprawling when he eased open the door to the spare room.

He had no excuse for the fury that flamed through him, leaving him breathless, trembling and cheated when he saw Daniel neatly asleep, cheek cupped in one hand, the other curled over the edge of the pillow.  Jack moved noiselessly to set down the glass within reach on the bedside table, unable to drag his eyes from the sleek bulge of Daniel's bicep and broad shoulder, bathed in moonlight.

Jack felt shaken and unreal, his terrible need to touch Daniel driving him from his side before his conscience engaged.  He was afraid if he touched, he wouldn't stop.  He pulled the door shut behind him, and found himself rooted to the spot, as if he'd reached his limit.  Perhaps he had.  Daniel was all he knew, the only thing that could make this stop.

He turned to lean his burning face against the door, wanting to stop.  He had to.  Nothing good would come from giving in to this, not for Daniel.  Jack was a quitter.  It was a hard truth.  He failed the people he loved but he couldn't fail Daniel, it just wasn't in him to do that.  After Sara, he'd sworn there'd be no one else left desolate in his wake, and he had to have Daniel with him.

Daniel knew Jack wanted him, was sure enough to take the risk he had, speaking out like that.

It should have slammed the breaks on hard, but it was such a goddamn rush, Jack was more alive than he'd been for longer than he could even remember.  Daniel was the only one who did this, took him head on, fought him, pushed him.  He didn't just love Daniel, he was compelled by him in a way he had never been with anyone.

His hands clenching around the door frame, his body shook as he fought himself not to open this door, not to take what Daniel had offered in that straightforward way of his because he knew Daniel loved him and would give him anything he could.  He had the man heart and soul, he knew that, Daniel wasn't exactly Joe Cool on his best day.  Taking his body…Jack thought he would die inside if he didn't, but he could not do it.

Jack didn't have the right.  The intensity of being so intimate, so bound up in one another they sometimes didn't see anyone else left no room for anyone to come between them.  A sexual partnership wasn't an inevitability between men with as close a friendship as theirs.  As much as he craved taking Daniel's virginity, it was what kept him here, unwilling to take the risk and unable to walk away.

He loathed his own draining inertia; it cut at him deep to lose control.  It was in Daniel to make Jack do anything, and he could only be grateful Daniel didn't understand his own power or the true depth of his hold over him.

The door handle moved.  Jack suppressed a childish desire to jerk away and bolt, choosing instead to stand his ground and face what he felt would be an ending.

Daniel pulled the door open, standing warily but much too close.  "Jack?"

The soft, uncertain question brought Jack's eyes up from his contemplation of Daniel's feet, his gaze sliding over Daniel's skin with specifically physical impact.  Daniel trembled when he lingered on the slender hips, the tight underwear leaving nothing to an experienced imagination.  He didn't blame Daniel for taking that defensive step back, but he was proud when Daniel caught himself and came forward again.

Close enough is too damned close.

The heat of their bodies commingled as they stood a breath apart.

"I hate to see you like this," Daniel sighed, his breath whispering against Jack's mouth.  "I'm sorry it took me so long to see it."

"See what?"

Daniel straightened up, disapproving Jack's futile, facile protest.  "That you want me," he answered with pardonable sharpness.  "That you couldn't ask me," he said more gently. "I don't know what I could have done to lead you to think I wouldn't understand, wouldn't talk it through," he added, sounding as distressed as he looked.

"I don't want to talk it through.  I don't want your understanding," Jack denied flatly.

I want you.

"I can't ask…"

"You can!" Daniel protested vehemently.

"Have you ever been fucked by a man?" Jack regretted the impulse to shock, to shut Daniel down hard, the instant the words were out his mouth, ugly with intent to wound.

Cruel to be kind is a fuck in the head.

"No," Daniel answered woodenly.  "Is that what this is?"

Jack's hands were gripping Daniel's hips before he was consciously aware of having moved.  He flinched as Daniel's hands cautiously came up to rest lightly on his shoulders.  They each stood their ground.

It occurred to him he needed to give Daniel a reality check.  He tightened his hold as he pushed his hips forward into Daniel's.  The choked gasp of shock as Daniel realised how hard he got Jack without even touching gave him no satisfaction.  "That's exactly what this is."

"You're an arrogant bastard," Daniel whispered.  "Did it occur to you even once to think about what I needed?"

"I've thought about nothing else."

You don't need me.

"You don't go for men," Jack explained with what little patience he could muster.

"No, but your premise is faulty.  Your supposition that I'm straight…"

"Celibate and straight," Jack interjected in the interests of accuracy.

Daniel ignored the interruption.  "Suggests to me you're the one with the preconceptions and the prejudice.  Not being attracted to men in general doesn't preclude being attracted to you," he said firmly.  "The former is an abstract, the latter…"

"Any mention of concrete would be in very poor taste," Jack retorted, unable to hide a smile as Daniel's valiant attempt to hide in the familiarity of a lecture foundered on Jack's disconcerting nearness and the hands holding him too close for comfort.

"Can't you kiss me, Jack?" Daniel challenged him directly.

Jack kissed him, a hard, closed mouth kiss that shut Daniel up as nothing else had.  He rocked, leaning instinctively into Jack's warmth, speechless, totally at a loss.

Here endeth the lesson.

"If you're not ready for that, you're not ready for this."  Jack cupped himself meaningfully.

It was his turn to jump when Daniel snatched a quick firm kiss of his own.

They stood still, staring for the longest time, breathing hard.

Daniel sighed and kissed Jack again, shaking with nerves and pushy enough to leave bruises if Jack hadn't grabbed his ass.  His lips parted in a gasp and Jack slid in, resting his tongue over Daniel's.  He moved then, his arms locked in the small of a slim, straight back as he crowded Daniel towards the bed, just a few steps behind them in the small room.

They got onto the bed in an awkward scramble, unwilling or unable to break the kiss as they stretched out side by side, moving into each other instinctively.  Daniel's tongue squeezed against his and he pushed back urgently as Daniel began to suck, the sensation shocking a path straight to his groin.  His dick jerked hard against Daniel's hip and he rubbed himself indolently against the sharp bone, aware of answering pressure swelling against his belly as the passionate kiss deepened.  Daniel was moaning, greedy for pleasure despite the shyness that had him holding his hips away from Jack's.  He quivered from head to foot when Jack slid his thigh between Daniel's to rub against him.

Jack began to touch, hands firm on Daniel's skin as he stroked over the knots in his spine, the tight jersey fabric rough by comparison when he cupped and kneaded Daniel's ass.  He was dimly aware of Daniel shifting edgily but he was consciously focused on the sweet, silken mouth he was devouring, the lush lips pliant and yielding beneath his.  Daniel's hands were curled tight around Jack's arms.

He moved back to slide his hand between them, caressing the gentle ridges of muscle jerking from his touch.  He'd always known Daniel would be wonderful, but the reality was electrifying.  He pushed his fingers into the swell of belly beneath Daniel's navel, down, working his hand beneath the waistband of Daniel's underwear.  He was yanked back to himself when Daniel's hand grabbed imperatively at his wrist.

"Mmmph," Daniel protested thickly, pulling away.  "No.  Please."  He rolled onto his back, breathing hard and trembling, his arm flung across his eyes.

"You don't want me to touch you."

Daniel mirrored Jack's gesture from earlier, grabbing his bulging crotch.

Well, duh, O'Neill.

"That's what I figured," Jack said as gently as his raging frustration allowed.

"You're moving too fast," Daniel snapped, catching Jack's hand as he rolled out of bed.  "That's it?" he asked bleakly.  "I won't put out and you bail?"

"N-no," Jack stammered, taken aback.  "I figured I'd done enough damage."

"Don't shut me out.  I can take anything but that," Daniel whispered, too proud to beg but painfully close to it.

Jack turned his hand in Daniel's for a moment.  "Promise," he said simply.

Daniel scrambled up and slid beneath the covers as Jack walked away, weight crashing in on him with every step.

"Come to bed, Jack."

The soft-spoken demand froze Jack with his hand on the door.

His master's voice.

"Please stay with me.  Please."

"Sleeping with you is a bad idea on so many levels, Daniel, not all of them to do with fucking you," Jack informed him grimly.

"I love you."

He heard the shake in Daniel's voice and had to respond, had to see.

"I'm attracted to you.  I'm confused as hell and I don't know what to do."

Lying would be good.  Not looking at me like that, with your heart in your eyes.  I could go for that in a big way, huge, because I can't stand this.

"I just…I need you."

There was a limit to dignity it seemed, as much as there was a limit to control, which meant squat to Jack weighed against Daniel being so hurt and so in need of him.  He closed the door instead of going through it, walking back over to the bed.  Daniel hitched over to make room for him, grateful and fearful.  Jack pulled up the covers and found himself with an armful of hot, shaky linguist, lost and looking for a constant, a single point of reference to find his way.

"I can't do anything for you," Jack explained urgently.  "I want this."  He pulled Daniel closer, stroking soothingly over his back and shoulders.  "I want you.  I won't advise you to walk away and I can't tell you to give me - us - a shot.  It wouldn't be fair."

"I'm not looking for advice," Daniel contradicted.  "I'm not offering absolution.  I need the truth from you."

That's my boy.  Why'd you think I fell so hard in the first place?

"Fair enough.  You want a Q&A?  Knock yourself out."

"Do you want to have sex with me?" Daniel asked directly.


"How long?"

"I've never had any complaints," Jack fired back, facetious despite himself.

Daniel blushed.  "Have you been looking at me like…you know?" he corrected sharply.

"Too long."  To his surprise, Daniel accepted that without comment.

"Do you want to be with me?" Daniel chewed his lip thoughtfully.  "Together."  He mulled some more, still nibbling.  "In a relationship.  Um…lovers," he elaborated.

Jack took Daniel's hand and placed it on his crotch.  His dick jerked violently.

Daniel snatched his hand away.  "I'll take that as a yes," he muttered resentfully.

"The question about being fucked by a man?  That was not rhetorical," Jack said crisply.

"Me too," Daniel blurted.

"Lovers?" Jack prompted.  "That kind of pre-supposes having sex, and don't give me any crap about my preconceptions, not when it never so much as crossed your mind I was attracted to you."

"Wanted to fuck me," Daniel corrected snidely.

"What I said."

"Why?" Daniel asked intently, his tension elevating.  "Why me?"

After the way Jack had been lying to them both, he couldn't evade the question.  He'd gone easy on himself, thinking about being thwarted of the sex and the heat in his veins because it was too much, too fucking hard to open himself to his stultifying feelings.  It had taken everything he had to live the lie and the truth couldn't hurt now even if it might get him Daniel.  He was aware of the contradiction in that but it didn't change how he felt.  He'd sabotaged his own efforts to keep Daniel clear of him because he couldn't get free of Daniel.  "I'm in love with you."

The soft words slammed into Daniel with the force of a blow, leaving him open-mouthed and struggling for words.

"I think it's a stupid idea sleeping together when I'm half-crazy wanting you and you don't want to rush into sex," Jack announced forthrightly.  "Whatever you need, you've got," he added brusquely, hoping Daniel took him at his word.  He didn't want to have to get sappy and communicate.  It was his turn to be at a loss;  Daniel looking at him like this made it impossible to think.  He just wanted to stare, to lose himself in that beguiling face.  "If you…that is…er…"

"That's why I was so confused," Daniel confided.  "I do.  I want you.  I just don't know why."

"Backatcha," Jack grumbled, a little offended by the subtle diss of Daniel's mild incredulity.

"It's not like you're the first guy who's been interested," Daniel said vaguely, reaching out to tentatively touch Jack's face.

"It's not?" Jack asked coolly, rattled about reading Daniel's innocence wrong and annoyed about it showing.

Daniel eyed him doubtfully, aware he'd been tactless.  "It's the first time I've been interested," he offered quietly, his fingertips smoothing over Jack's cheek.  "I've always politely refused propositions, especially at work."

That better be museum work.

"The Air Force took to me in a big way," Daniel said blithely, not particularly interested in the irrelevance of past history.  He was annoyingly just and forgiving.  Jack was not.

"As did the corps," Daniel added, risking a quick smile.

"My fellow officers have been propositioning you?"  Jack was distracted Daniel's feather-light touches on his face, kissing the thumb brushing over his lips.

"Mm-hm.  So much for worrying about the insular, innately aggressive male-dominated hierarchical power structure of a closed society."  Daniel quirked his brows quizzically, a little embarrassed by what he saw as his naïveté.  "They're a bunch of people just like any others.  My own fault for not separating the individual from the larger community.  The difference seems to be one of focus and once I…"

Jack didn't tell Daniel to shut up.  He simply cupped his head and pulled him into a deep, slow, passionate kiss, eating him alive.

Daniel arched lazily, taking his pleasure lingeringly.  He was quiet and dazed when Jack freed him, dreamily licking his lips as if to verify this was real.  He yawned and curled up at Jack's side, draping his arm over Jack's chest.  "I've never been to bed with a man before."  He seemed sleepily amused by the notion.

"You'd never know," Jack assured him solemnly as he rolled onto his side facing Daniel, holding him close.

Daniel bit his lip.  "I'm sorry about…you know…not being ready for sex."

"Me too."

Daniel opened his eyes at that, wincing.  "I'll let you know as soon as…I mean, I am attracted to you.  Not that I was as obvious as…" He trailed off into edgy silence.

"As obvious as whom?" Jack snapped.

"Lt. Satterfield," Daniel said lamely, refusing to look Jack in the eye.

Jack had wanted to punch Satterfield out.  It said a lot for his state of mind over The Crush because he usually only wanted to punch Haley out.  He felt he owed Daniel something for a truly odious comparison.  He was an Air Force colonel.  It was ridiculous for Daniel to imply he'd been carrying on like some chippie with more hormones than hair.  "Are you nervous about the sex?" he asked sympathetically, hugging Daniel tenderly to him.

"No," Daniel denied hastily.  "Well, yes, but…I mean…"

"We could talk about it," Jack offered nobly, looking supportively into Daniel's wide, worried eyes.

"Sex?" Daniel asked feebly.

"Sex," Jack agreed.

"I was hoping we could just…" Daniel waved an eloquent hand.  "…do it."

"When you're up to it?" Jack asked blandly.

"No.  I don't want to talk about having sex with you."  Daniel blinked rapidly.  "If you're willing to talk so…intimately…"

And embarrassingly?

"Or in fact at all," Daniel added, ruining the effect.  "Does that mean we're trying this?  Being together?" he asked shyly, resting his chin on Jack's shoulder.

"I'll give you a try," Jack offered generously.

"Big of you."

"Don't expect my mood to improve until yours does," Jack pointed out an unpalatable truth crisply.  "Especially if you insist on going to bed with me almost naked and plastering yourself to me."

Daniel didn't seem particularly sympathetic to Jack's plight, choosing this moment to achieve a boneless sprawl over all the parts of Jack he found comfortable.  "You're nice and warm," he commented drowsily, yawning again.

"You're going to sleep?" Jack asked in disbelief as Daniel's eyelids fluttered.  "You're in bed with me for the first time and all you want to do is catch some Z's?  Daniel?  Daniel!"

"G'night," Daniel murmured obediently, gently kissing Jack's throat.  "Missed thisssss…"

"I missed it too."  Jack stroked the silky hair tickling his chin.  "Putty in your hands here," he admitted ruefully as Daniel's trust punched through all his defences.

Perfect.  Just perfect, Danny.  Thanks.  Really.  You turn my life upside down, climb into my bed, tell me you love me even if you don't know why.  We resolve nothing except I'm horny and you want me.  You think.  Have to say I was underwhelmed by your enthusiasm there.  You insult me a little then fall asleep on me.  Literally.

"Remind me again why I fell in love with you?"



Wakey wakey.  We've got to talk about the guys at work, the 'obvious', and some minor stuff.  You know.  Small irritations like being in love and having sex for the first time.


You've got to be kidding me.

You snore?


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