Slash: Jack and Daniel involved in a loving and committed relationship, which usually involves sex.
Rating: R
Category: First Time.  Romance.
Season/Spoilers: Season 4.
Synopsis: Jack takes an unexpected trip to Ellensville.
Warnings: None.
Length: 62 Kb

Daniel is sprawled on the floor, patiently brushing dirt and detritus from the smooth, sweeping curves of this new language he's found, oblivious both to the sweltering heat and to my presence as I restlessly prowl the perimeter.

Carter and Teal'c are camped a coupla kliks away, right at the entrance to the cave complex Carter has her eyes on for mineral testing, having fun with crampons.  And I do mean fun.  Carter sounded giddy and giggly last check-in.  If we get any usable samples it will be entirely coincidental, I'm sure.

As for Daniel, lying here dreamily caressing his fingers over the written word -- Well, he did his usual kick-ass linguistic assessment on the ruins, admitted the Goa'uld had never been near the place, and nor had anyone else in about ten thousand years, picked up his end of the sample case and started teasing Carter about his 'heights' thing.  It's kind of like the allergy thing, and the gun thing and, we all realised with a little ache for him, the archaeology thing.  His bone-deep driving passion to hold the past in his hand has become 'as and when convenient'.  If.

My kids are good.  Daniel didn't ask, didn't expect.  He just WANTED.  We could see how much in the way he wouldn't look at the ruins, neatly deflected Carter's questions and couldn't get away from there quick enough.  Carter looked at me, I looked at Daniel, while Teal'c just strolled over and started unpacking FRED.  They got crampons and picks, we got shovels and brushes.  Equal division of tents, rations, ammo and if I can't come up with something more convincing than 'patrolling', labour.

Daniel blushed to the roots of his hair, which had Carter grinning from ear to ear and making provocative 'sweet' cracks she thought I couldn't hear before she, Teal'c and FRED trundled off, loudly dissing my shovelling skills.  Daniel is thrilled.  He's smiling at me - REALLY smiling - whenever I drag him away from the floor for a water break or a food break or a 'he's been so frickin' focused he's making my hair hurt' break.

I've threat-assessed the ass-end of the known universe thoroughly, regretfully concluding the most immediate threat to my ongoing health, safety and welfare is rendering unskilled archaeological assistance.  I've patrolled the vicinity up the wazoo, made camp, made lunch, which he didn't eat 'til I yelled at him, even done my goddamn paperwork.  Next break for ANYTHING, my ass is Danny's.

"Water break," I order tersely.

"Ja-ack," Daniel wheedles in a 'bedtime?' tone I know too well.


Daniel rolls over and glares at me, frustration rolling off him in waves.

"Not enough time.  I know," I say quietly, sauntering over to his side and proffering the canteen.  His eyes soften and the smile reappears.  Daniel is the original low maintenance friend.  A little understanding, a little kindness, and he's toast.  I drop down to sit beside him, companionably close.  "Don't guzzle," I order provocatively as he takes a careful draft of water.

"Jack, I swear to God, if you trot out that lecture about dehydration for the hundred and fifteenth time I'm shooting you with your own gun," Daniel warns menacingly.

I eye him coolly.  "Take more than YOU'VE got, Dannyboy," I drawl with that faux-Irish accent which always makes him wince. These days, I'm not so sure.  Daniel's got quite a lot.  He's wearing the same size clothes he always did but now he doesn't look like a kid playing dress-up, he fills them.  It's particularly obvious just now 'cause most of my uniform is back at the tent, along with most of Daniel's.  We're stripped down to BDUs, tees and weaponry because of the sullen heat, stifling the breath in our throats, and that's inside.  God knows what the tent will be like.  Maybe Hammond will spring for air conditioning?  After all, he signed off on the amended mission objectives.  I'm under strict orders to boost my linguist's flagging morale any way I can.  Air conditioning would make a significant dent in the funk Daniel's been in lately.  He doesn't hang and chat, just drinks his water, smiles thanks, and books.

Same old same old.

I settle and stare.  This is a weird place.  I'm not sensitive to atmosphere like Daniel is, but even I can feel history weighing us down here.  The stone is worn smooth and mellow in the blistering sunshine, green-filtered by the interwoven tree branches overhead, taking the place of the roof, which Daniel is patiently brushing clear of the floor.  No glass in the high, arched windows, no doors.  No objects - artefacts - of any kind.  Nothing to look at, nothing to see but the floor, the writing on it spiralling in to the centre, and the sun filtering down and bathing the archaeologist in light.

Daniel sits up impatiently, yanking at his tee, pulls it over his head, balls it and throws it clear.  Then he stretches out, curving his body to fit the spiral he's clearing, weight poised on shoulder and hip, knee pressed forward for balance as he gently brushes.  He's got patience to burn but I cringe reflexively.  Looks like a full body muscle pull waiting to happen, despite the sweet, sinuous curve of hip and -

Sweet?  Sinuous I could shrug off as too much hanging with dictionary definition boy there, he has a nasty habit of bringing out the grammar in me, but sweet?  Sweet requires kick-ass rationalising.

I sip my water slowly, surveille and - assess.  For sweetness.  Or signs of incipient insanity.  Not sure which right now.  Daniel.  Hmm.  Long, long legs.  I shrug impatiently.  Old news.  He was all legs and wide eyes when I first met him.  Narrow hips, a guy thing.  Tight ass.  A guy wish thing.  A supple, slender back and a lot of sleek muscle, glistening from sweat and slanting sun.  Subtly flexing biceps and broad shoulders arching smoothly into the oddly tender curve of his nape.  That other curve though, from hip to waist and waist to ribs -

How sweet it is.

And, yeah, good instincts there, O'Neill.  Sweet is very definitely a guy DOING a guy thing, a thing you most emphatically do not do.

I haul myself to my feet and wander over to join him, set the P-90 down where I can reach it, though the perimeter sensors will sound the alarm way before I hear anything, grab myself the big brush, and stretch out facing Daniel.  One clumsy sweep of the brush has Daniel sighing, leaning in close enough to touch as he settles his hand over mine, nudging me and my brush into smooth, controlled flexing of wrist and fingers that strokes shockingly straight down to my abruptly aching groin.

"What does this remind you of?" Daniel muses.

Masturbation is the word frozen on my lips.  "Honestly?" I say wryly after a moment to regroup.

He shrugs, peering up at me over his glasses, eyes wide, curiously gentle and way too close.  He frees my hand, but hovers, alert for incipient vandalism.  I smirk, scooping out the dirt with enough verve to make him scowl.  "It reminds me irresistibly of the opening credits to 'Batman'," I clarify crisply.

"I won't trouble you with the proto-elamite epoch of Susa, then," Daniel says dryly.

"Bas relief," I murmur dulcetly, eyes wide and ingenuous over my impeccable pronunciation.  I know a little about a lot, more than enough to spread confusion when I need it most.  I need it now.  "I'm gay," I say easily, flipping the dirt about casually.


That's it?  Big mother of a revelation, meaning of life stuff going down in my pants, big time, right now, and all I get from my best friend, confidante and bolt-from-the-blue lust object is a stinky little 'oh'?

"Um, how long?" Daniel asks, propping his cheek on his hand, staring at me, a little amused, a lot fascinated.  "How long have you been gay?"

I flip open my watch and check it carefully.  "I've been in Ellensville for four and a half minutes," I say precisely.

"Oh."  Daniel mulls this over, nibbling his lip thoughtfully.

I should tell him he shouldn't do that, I've gotten laid approximately thrice in the past five years and maybe I should just slide the P-90 on over to him.  Just in case.  The blood isn't so much slamming down as inexorably shifting, like continental drift.  Slow, implacable and I suspect irreversible.

"So this was a spontaneous conversion?" Daniel asks dubiously.

"I took a water break.  Went in straight and came out - you'll excuse the expression - gay."

"Hmm.  May I ask what prompted this epiphany?" he asks at last, pulling off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, like that will help.

I love the way Daniel doesn't judge.  He has that rare broadmindedness that just doesn't SEE differences, doesn't label, doesn't fear.  He questions relentlessly, but it isn't personal with him.  I've presented him with a problem and he'll work the angles until he finds a solution.  It's likely to be 'Jack is a sad fuck whose reason for living is messing with my mind' but I can live with that if he'll let me mess with his ass.  Joke.  Don't actually MEAN - really don't.

"This sweet curve." I set my hand skimming over said curve from hip to waist and waist to ribs, a whisper from touchdown.  "And this," I add as I put theory into practice and wrap my hand around his neck, fingers spreading comfortably over soft skin and curiously into silky hair. "THIS is the part where I reveal my kinky nape fetish."  He's going to put me down hard any second, kick my ass and put me straight.  No pun.

"Nice," Daniel murmurs approvingly, arching his neck a little.

I glare at him.

"And this is the part where YOU - okay - er - this is NOT the part where you do THAT!" I accuse.  "You're supposed to be helping me out here, not - not feeling me up."  He was NOT supposed to do that, not supposed to just reach out and curve his hand over my hip.  He was supposed to put THIS to bed, not ME.  I'm also fairly confident I should be peeling that hand right back off my hip, not enjoying the hell out of it.

"I'm helping myself," Daniel says softly, smiling, eyes depthless.

His fingers fan out and suddenly his thumb is stroking sweetly over my dick, making me POUND and flinch and curse him.

"I've been gay a lot longer, Jack, and for me, it was this - "

I was pulling away, his hands are on me and I was enjoying it so I was pulling away, so how the fuck is he just a breath away?  One thumb stroking my dick, the other smoothing over my lips and Daniel is right behind, kissing me strong and hard.  His mouth is a contradiction, looks soft and isn't, Christ it isn't, it's mobile, firm, insistent warmth.

Oh, yes.  Yes.  Another perfect curve.  Hurled right out of left field.  Switch hitter here.  Stepping up to the other side of the plate to bat.

"You're supposed to be stopping me," I complain.

"Why?" Daniel asks reasonably, taking tiny, incredibly distracting bites at my jaw.  "When I went to all this trouble to get you started?  I'm a little disappointed it wasn't my ass that kick-started your libido but even I couldn't work out a way to get out of my BDUs without being, um, slutty about it."

I open my mouth and Daniel sticks his tongue in my ear.  The result is a strangled yelp there isn't a comeback snappy enough to fix.

He takes my hand and cups it firmly over an erection that puts mine to shame.

"I never guessed you were this naïve," Daniel whispers huskily, chuckling as I sputter.  "It's an incredible turn-on."

I never guessed he wasn't.  The little prick - excuse me, I speak figuratively of course - out-thunk me and the stroking and the - the tonguing are incredible turn-on's too.  I'd tell him I'm not that kind of boy but his thumb and my dick say emphatically otherwise.

I find myself going on instinct, going with my dick, flowing up, hands at Daniel's shoulders pushing him down beneath my weight.  He reaches up as we fall and I snatch his hands, pin them to the ground above his head.  He quirks an eyebrow in mild enquiry and I turn my hands in his, his fingers clasping strongly over mine.  I'm stretched out over the full length of him, finding he's ALL contradiction, hard planes and soft skin and heat and welcome.  He lifts his head and we kiss again, not tentative, not tentative at all.

Daniel is taking control, opening to me, tongue flickering out to flirt with mine, seducing me into his willing mouth. I groan as my tongue glides down over his, Daniel opening to me so much, letting me so close.  His eyes close as the kiss deepens, like he just wants to FEEL, to touch and taste and know.  He moans as I thrust against him, tongue rasping forcefully over mine, shoving back, all heat and aggressive certainty.

His thighs part and I groan again as his legs wrap around mine.  He's hard and urgent against me, moaning passionately into my mouth as his hips move achingly beneath mine.  I push against him and he arches into me, shuddering, gasping, hands clenching. He strains up and snatches a kiss, tongue thrusting wildly into my mouth.  I suck him eagerly, gloating over his flushed face as he writhes insistently against me.

I'm thinking hazily we're only a few plastic poppers short of skin on skin but my hands are way ahead of me, between us, wrenching open first my BDUs, then his.  Daniel's eyes are dazed, drowsy with desire as he sits up and lends an assist, shoving my BDUs impatiently down and getting no further than my ass, where he forgets what he was doing and gropes me with a vengeance until my straining dick brushes over his belly.  He stills and looks down, eyes wide.  Then he looks up, eyes wider.

I shrug, completely embarrassed.  Not so much excited as borderline hysterical here.

Daniel's eyes narrow as he deliberately licks his lips, hands skimming over my flanks and reaching between us.

"Uh uh," I growl, grabbing him and tumbling us down.  One flick of the switch and I'll be purely ballistic here.  We both groan as slippery, straining dicks clash and grind and hot, heavy pleasure boils through me, making me hiss.

Daniel lifts his face for another kiss, his hands stroking steadily over every inch of my back, down onto my butt, where they clench hard enough to bruise as he yanks me closer.  Definitely been working out.  No question.  I rock and push and he rocks and arches into me as we find a rhythm that works for both of us.  Kind of a primitive, pounding rhythm, being completely honest, but what we lack in first time finesse we more than make up in raw, urgent passion.  Or is that hysterical desperation?

Daniel makes it crystal clear I should pick up the pace by wrapping his legs emphatically around my back and moaning my name, voice thick with longing as I slam into him over and over.

I kiss him again, driving deep into his mouth, as deep as I'm driving into his body, fighting my own battle with the pleasure shocking through me every time our skin collides, fighting to make it good, make it last.  It should be fucking obvious what he wants, he's got.  I couldn't BE more got and frankly he's taking every fucking thing I've got just to keep up with him.  I swear, he's snarling at me as shudders wrench through his body and he throws back his head, crying out as he comes.

The slick heat pulsing over my belly and groin doesn't drive me over the edge, but that low, wanton cry of 'Jaa-aack' hits every button I've got and slams me over so hard I get white flashes going off behind my eyes, and that odd strangled noise erupts from the back of my throat, the one I haven't heard in a decade of Friday night dates and mission-induced downtime.

I collapse, heaving and gasping, on Daniel, who seems quite pleased if the way he's wrapping himself possessively around me is anything to go by.

"Forget it," I groan into his sweat-soaked throat.  "You've had all you're gonna get."

Daniel kisses my hair and chuckles.  "Um, what I was thinking of doesn't really need you to be anything more than relaxed, Jack," he says sweetly, hands curving meaningfully over my ass.

I kind of like this little hollow at the base of his throat, but I tear my tongue away at that.  "I'm not THAT gay!"

"Wanna bet?" Daniel asks softly, fingers stroking into my hair.

"You don't seriously think I'm going to let you fuck me?" I demand indignantly, firmly suppressing a treacherous twitch of interest.

"Long and slow and deep," Daniel murmurs dreamily.  "You've been gay for - " he prompts.

I check my watch automatically.  "Twenty minutes," I admit, flushing.  "So?  I may be easy, but I'm not THAT easy.  Bite me."

"That's pretty much what I had in mind." Daniel bats his eyes at me.  "For the relaxation part."

My eyes instantaneously fixate on his mouth, and his smile widens.

"I love YOU, Jack," Daniel says solemnly.  "Your ass is just the clincher."

"You do?" I ask, startled.  "You do?"  Er, that kinda begs the question, why?

Daniel's face falls.  "You don't?"

"I - " I need to buy some time.  "How come you know so much about this stuff?"

"Remind me again what it is I DO for a living?" Daniel snaps tartly.

Drives me crazy, mostly.  Keeps me sane, more.

"I've done a little research myself," I admit shiftily, thinking I need to keep him talking, buy some more time, 'cause the time I've had isn't enough.  "In case you were wondering about my - "  I kind of choke on 'technique', that makes it sound like any of that was down to a man with a plan instead of a dick in a Daniel induced tail-spin.  "I've got satellite.  There's a show I've been watching.  It's British," I add hopefully.  Not BBC, but still, British.  Not exactly strawberries and cream, and if Stuart Allan Jones saw anyone in cricket gear he'd fuck them stupid, but even I had to tune in obsessively to admire the man's style.  Stuart could nail anything that MOVED.  He could have nailed me.  He could have nailed HAMMOND.  And I have to admit, I think Daniel would have nailed him.  Not - Hammond.  Obviously not.

"Let me help you out here, Jack.  If you 'don't', you DON'T," Daniel announces coldly, folding his arms pointedly over his chest and wriggling his behind free of my own wandering hand.  "Because if I hadn't been sure you DID, I wouldn't."

"I do," I snarl, admitting defeat.   Or I wouldn't. "You're a hard-hearted bastard."

"I know," Daniel agrees sympathetically, getting right back to snuggling.  "But I'm hot enough to make it worth your while.  I'll cut you some slack for being in a state of shock and take that as a 'yes' on both counts."

"I am royally fucked," I groan as his hands wander purposefully down again.

"Well, I really hate to take too much time out from an excavation, but for you I'll make an exception," Daniel offers generously, beaming up at me.  "If you give me a minute, and grab that brush, the small one -"


"Uh - Daniel?"


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