"I'm tired and cold, Jack. I just want to go home."
With the tiniest hint of guilt, I continue to push, to prod. "I'm starving, Daniel." I remove my right hand from the steering wheel, making a small cross over my heart. "Promise, Daniel. Breakfast, then home. Forty-eight hours at home. I'll let you sleep for the whole time. I won't bother you."
Daniel responds by cranking up the heater in the car, shooting me an evil glance, daring me to touch the controls. I raise my hand in submission even though I feel beads of sweat begin to form and trickle down the back of my neck. Daniel positions the vents so they are directly facing him and zips his coat up all the way. Tucking his hands under his armpits, he seems to fold into himself to conserve body heat.
"Damn it, Daniel. You can't be that cold, jeeze, we're in Colorado not Antarctica ... I'm sure the temper ..." I sneak a look at Daniel when I halt the Avalanche at the red light. His eyes are closed and he seems to be shivering. Annoyance turns to concern in a split second. "Are you sick?"
Cracking open an eye, Daniel answers, "Sick, dying, Jack. Need you to take me home and let me sleep. Cover me with lots of blankets ..."
Before he can intervene, I snake out my hand and feel his forehead. Daniel grabs my wrist with his left hand and in retaliation, uses his right hand to adjust the controls so that the majority of the heat is now centered on my crotch. Kissing the palm of my hand which he holds ... he gently places it back on the steering wheel. I realize that this stupid breakfast of pancakes and eggs ... with a side of bacon is going to cost me big time.
A short time later I maneuver into the diner's parking lot. I am a little surprised when the lot is so full, but a quick check of the clock reveals it to be later than I thought. Lunch time precisely, hopefully it isn't that crowded, and I will be able to get my archeologist home and in bed before my debt to him grows larger.
I will admit only to myself that it is cold as we walk to the diner. Frigid, wind blowing, soul hurting cold. The sky is overcast with thick low clouds in various shades of gray. Snow, my knee is telegraphing, and for a moment I'm sorry that I had this idea for breakfast, as visions of a warm tub vie for my attention.
The diner is crowded ... very crowded and our entrance -- besides bringing a blast of frigid air from the outside -- earns us a frigid glance from the hostess. "Two?" She sighs, "It may be a long wait ..."
My snappy retort is quelled by a look from Daniel. That look, the one that says ... I'm pissed and tired ... I don't want to be here ... I want you to shut up, eat, and let's go. My stomach growls loudly and I see a look of exasperation in the hostess' eyes; but somehow this turns the tide, and Daniel issues me a smile. Well, obviously the tide turns in both directions, as the hostess is now standing before me with two menus in her hand and a look of complete adoration on her face. "Right this way ... please."
I want to know why Daniel saves his pissy, annoyed, sleepy, cranky moods for me ... always ... and turns on the charm for strangers. It must be that first contact team thing. As we are escorted ... take that back, Daniel is escorted ... I'm just tagging along, and the hostess is chatting with Daniel like an old friend. We maneuver around busboys and waitresses to a little round table surrounded by booths and larger tables, an afterthought kinda table. I take off my coat, hanging it on the back of the chair, my menu is thrown on the table in front of me, almost knocking over the water glass. I watch as the hostess gently presses the menu into Daniel's hands.
Standing, still listening to the hostess' incessant chatter, the menu clutched to his chest, I am aware, Daniel is not really being polite ... Daniel is slowing falling asleep on his feet, I'd recognize that sway anywhere ... caffeine intake is imperative.
"Daniel," I yell a little more forcefully than intended and note with embarrassment that more than a few heads are turning in our direction. I silently motion for him to sit, holding up an empty coffee cup in the hopes that he will get the idea. The hostess surely gets my point as she disappears in a huff.
Daniel stifles a yawn, sitting in the chair, his jacket still zipped up to his neck ... looking incredibly miserable.
"Daniel. Your coat."
"I'm cold. Why couldn't you go to McDonald's drive-thru instead? I coulda slept in the car, you could have eaten ..."
"Out of a Styrofoam dish with plastic utensils. No ... plus they are done serving breakfast by now."
"You could have had a hamburger. I would have treated." Daniel takes off his glasses, places them on the table and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Why didn't you just drop me off ..."
"Daniel ... take off your jacket, read the menu ... look like we are ready to order. If you sit there arguing we'll be here until dinner." I look around furtively, trying to catch the eye of a passing waitress, anyone who can fill Daniel's coffee cup immediately. Daniel opens his mouth, I wag my pointer finger in his direction -- a true indication that any further conversation on his part is futile. "Daniel ... coat."
This time Daniel gives in to his body with a jaw popping yawn. He shoots me a look of extreme hatred as he stands to remove his jacket. Daniel flings the jacket down on the extra chair and follows my line of vision. He glances down apologetically at his short sleeved tee shirt answering the question before I even ask it. "Okay ... this was the only clean thing in my locker ... forgot to do laundry before I left ..." He stretches, bringing his arms over his head, causing the shirt to ride up ... a table of women to the right of us becomes instantly silent ... their eyes feasting on Daniel. I swear, one woman begins to fan herself with a napkin and the others seem to have developed a flush to their cheeks. Daniel tucks his shirt in and I believe a collective sigh circulates through our immediate area.
Before Daniel regains his seat, miraculously a waitress has appeared at the table ... two waitresses as a matter of fact. The young blonde turns to the brunette with a "My table, Marcy ... I believe those women at table 10 are trying to get your attention." I do a quick glance over to the aforementioned table 10, and I'm thinking that the women are trying to get Daniel's attention ... not Marcy's.
Marcy disappears with an expression that reads there will be hell to pay later--our waitress gives a valiant effort to keep the fear off of her face. I offer her a smile in commiseration, knowing exactly what awaits her. She barely acknowledges my smile. "Hello, my name is Toni." She slides her eyes over to me then back to Daniel. "Wow, did you guys just come back from vacation?"
"No ... we ..."
"Yeah, we did, Toni." Pursing my lips together, I'm hoping Daniel is awake enough to get my wordless signal. Actually, SG1 spent ten days accompanying a group of archeologists at a site ... on a very warm, dry planet ... where Daniel did very little sleeping ... and spent an enormous amount of time in the sun ... we all did. But for some reason, it looked the best on Daniel, as his hair seemed a shade lighter and his sunburn had deepened to a dark tan. I shift uncomfortably in my seat hoping that this breakfast can be a quick affair.
"Where did you go?"
Hello here ... I'm practically waving my coffee cup under this girl's nose and she hasn't taken her eyes off Daniel. "Egypt ... we went to Egypt ..." I answer slamming my white ceramic cup down on the plate.
Daniel eyes me with confusion as he slips on his glasses which were still resting on the table. From my vantage point the glasses accentuate the tiredness in Daniel's blue eyes ... increasing my guilt. From Toni's vantage point the glasses accentuate the tiredness in Daniel's blue eyes ... moving her mothering instincts up a notch.
"Wow, Egypt. Always wanted to go to Egypt. Never been further than ... " Daniel yawns again, covering his mouth with his hand and effectively cutting off her monologue.
"Excuse me ..." he mutters, blushing under his tan.
"Oh ... did you guys just get back? You look tired ... I'll get you some coffee." She turns deftly around, in a movement that would make a ballerina proud, and snags a pot of coffee from a passing waitress.
She pours Daniel a cup and, as an afterthought, fills mine. Checking the little silver milk container ... she grabs it with the intent of bringing back a fresh one. Toni disappears before I can place an order.
Daniel closes his eyes as he drinks his coffee. Sighing as the warmth and caffeine filter into his bloodstream. Daniel drinks all coffees, some warrant an orgasmic sigh ... like Starbucks or Dunkin' Donuts' ... the diner's coffee is appreciated with a quiet sigh, probably just for the caffeine content and warmth alone.
Daniel places his empty cup back on the table, his tongue gliding around his mouth in an attempt to soak up every last drop. I adjust my suddenly too-tight pants thinking thoughts that should not be thought of in a diner, on a chilly Colorado day ... in the light of day. A cursory glance around the room gives me the idea that the majority of the tables in my area are thinking the same thing as me. I shake my head to rid it of such scary, visual thoughts.
"Are you okay, Jack?"
Daniel's question takes me by surprise but before I have a chance to answer, Toni appears with fresh milk and a basket filled with equally fresh muffins. A nice basket ... something that will tide us over until we receive breakfast ... something no other table seems to have. "More coffee?" she inquires.
"For your own peace of mind Toni, you can leave the coffee at the table." I honestly am trying to be helpful. Thinking of her having to run back and forth to fulfill Daniel's coffee consumption and thinking of my ability to get Daniel to consume enough caffeine to be awake and cognizant when we return home.
"No ... that's okay. It's actually against policy to leave the coffee pots on the table."
Toni's mother obviously never taught her manners, as she has never faced me when speaking, her eyes feasting instead on a totally clueless, soon to be sleeping on the table, Daniel.
"Toni, we'd like to order."
She forces herself to make eye contact with me and I give her my simple order. Scrambled eggs, pancakes and a side of bacon.
Daniel falters ... Toni waits hanging on his every breath. "I'll have a large chocolate milk and just pancakes."
"Heavy on the syrup." I add. Since Daniel has opted away from the caffeine to stay awake ... I'm going the sugar route. Toni takes the menus from our outstretched hands.
Daniel watches Toni walk away and a band of jealousy grips me. Reinforcing my doubts about the diner ... sorry I made the suggestion. Daniel turns towards me and catches me watching him watching the back of Toni. A flash of hurt crosses his features at my distrust. "I'm tired." He states as a reason for what just occurred. "Thanks for not forcing me to drink coffee ..." Daniel manages a smile in my direction. I busy myself with the silverware to occupy my hands ... to stop them from grabbing Daniel's fingers tapping the table.
"Not one of your more mature breakfasts."
He ducks his head and answers my remark with a smile that reaches his tired eyes. A smile that chases away all my thoughts of Daniel watching Toni. Daniel and I prattle on about nothing ... making plans for our downtime. I survey the area while Daniel is talking, forever the military man. A glance here ... a turn of a head there ... Daniel is being appreciated from a number of tables. I smile to myself, content in the knowledge that he is going home with me.
Toni appears with Daniel's milk, placing it by his coffee cup. Not waiting for a straw, Daniel picks up the glass and begins to drink. I can sense that Toni is using every ounce of her restraint to fight the urge to wipe the chocolate milk mustache from around Daniel's mouth when he puts the glass down. I use my finger to soundlessly draw an outline with my finger around my mouth. Daniel gets it in one, using his tongue instead of the napkin to clean around his mouth. I'm sure it was my imagination, but I believe Toni whimpered as she left to get the rest of our order.
Daniel finishes the rest of the milk in one gulp, still with no straw. I lean forward to hide my burgeoning erection under the table as Daniel's tongue again flits out and works its magic. This time I know a whimper of appreciation is emitted from table number 10. The realization that no one has left our area, finished eating or paid a bill since we sat down wanders through my mind. Doesn't anyone have to go back to work?
I reprimand Daniel with "Now what are you going to drink with your breakfast?"
Daniel shrugs and Toni, who has appeared laden with food, answers for him. "I'll get him another one ... don't worry. It will be on the house." She slides the food across the table at me and places the pancakes in front of Daniel. He lifts his eyes in appreciation ... she melts in response. I wave my empty coffee cup, a repeat of an earlier, ignored performance. "Toni ... more coffee."
"Sure, sir. Did you want more chocolate milk, hon?"
"That would be great, thanks."
"He needs a straw with it this time though!" I yell after her.
I swear the words 'party pooper' come floating back from her direction.
"Jack, did you ever notice that all the women in your life call you 'sir'?"
Daniel jumps as I kick his shin.
I smile at him innocently and dig into my breakfast. Toni refills my coffee cup and gives Daniel his milk, complete with a straw. We eat in silence, Daniel fading after the first syrup covered pancake. Tilted to one side, his head is resting on the flat of his hand, supported by the elbow on the table. His right hand still holds the fork balanced over the plate. I know Daniel well enough to believe that he is good for another 15 minutes before he falls face down in his plate. I finish my breakfast, ask Toni for the check, and drink the dregs from the bottom of my coffee cup. I rub my foot up and down Daniel's calf and he jumps up in surprise, his fork clattering to the plate. "Finish your milk. So I can take you home ..."
"To bed," I reply, a lascivious grin appearing across my face.
"To sleep. You promised ... forty-eight hours if I wanted. You got breakfast ... I get sleep."
I wonder if Daniel would put up much of a fight if I reneged on my promise. Daniel puts on his jacket and I grab mine ... throwing a tip down on the table. A large one ... I guess because I'm going home with Daniel and Toni isn't ... sort of a compensation. I am amazed that everyone seems to be leaving the diner the same time as us ... paying the bill, the area around the cash register is crowded with people paying for their meal. Daniel smiles as he is jostled as the diners move towards the exit exclaiming to their friends of the lateness of their returns to work.
A fairly attractive women in her 40's, who I recognize from table 10, whispers a thank you to me for sharing. I acknowledge her appreciation of all things beautiful and clueless with a smile.
The promised snow has begun to fall, making driving slow. The heater in the Avalanche is cranking out heat slowly, a perfect match for the descension of Daniel's eyelids. Daniel is sleeping by the time I pull into the driveway, but the cession of movement forces him to a semi-coherent state. Not fully awake, I guide him into the house with the hopes that the 15 minute drive home was enough to bring him to a level of consciousness close enough to wakefulness ... to enjoy what I have in mind.
The house is cold and I leave Daniel standing by the door to raise the thermostat and start a fire ... I'm thinking romantic afternoon in front of a roaring fire ... and who the hell knows what Daniel is thinking, because he disappeared as soon as my back was turned.
I follow a trail of discarded clothes to the bedroom and find Daniel already under the covers.
I get into bed with Daniel ... stripped down to my boxers, tee shirt and dog tags. Daniel whines as I spoon up next to him ... pulling him closer. "You promised Jack. Let me sleep. You got your eggs and pancakes and your side of bacon. Please let me sleep."
Daniel's whining about sleeping fades off as his breathing evens out ... and I just hold him against his wishes. I release him when I know he is sleeping, watching in amusement as he overtakes the whole bed once I have left it. I cover him, dress and go to check the fireplace. I'm not tired and household chores with the promise of an afternoon hockey game await.
I ordered pizza for dinner and Daniel refuses to get up. He burrows deeper under the covers and pulls the pillow over his head and the only wording I understanding is something about "a side of bacon."
It's late when I get to bed, an old John Wayne western having held my attention for the thousandth time. Under the covers, this time Daniel seeks me out, looking for additional warmth. He hooks his leg over my calf pulling me towards him so we are lying facing each other. He tucks his head under my chin, and I kiss the top of his head in response. "I'm hungry," he mumbles against my chest.
"There's pizza in the fridge." Silence. "Daniel?"
I feel his warm puffs of air through my shirt as he draws himself closer. "This is nicer ... warmer." He slips his hands under my tee shirt. "Want to go get me pizza? Two slices."
I push him away from me, untangling legs and arms. "Excuse me?" We now are lying face to face again. Daniel is sporting a grin, as well as, a hard on that he rubs against me. I moan in response, feeling my own flaccid member jump to attention. "Now you want pizza? Now? I got breakfast, you got your nap ... the debts are cancelled out."
"No ..." He moves his hand down and touches my hardened cock through my boxers. He begins to run light strokes through the material. I have this fear in the pit of my stomach that I'm going to owe Daniel big time when this is all said and done. "I got ogled, and stared at today at breakfast. I found Toni's phone number in my pant's pocket."
"Daniel ... how the hell did she ..."
"Take it from me, you don't want to know. The hostess' number was in my jacket pocket ... and who the hell is Marcy?"
"Where did you find her number?"
"Actually she told me that she put her number in your jacket pocket."
Daniel and I both laugh, the bed vibrating as our laugher increases. "All I wanted was breakfast."
"All I wanted was to go to sleep."
Daniel grabs my dog tag chains until we are inches from each other. "I want pizza ... hot ... in bed ..." He kisses me deeply, my chain still in his fisted grasp. He releases me and even in the darkness of the room, I see the depth of lust and love in his eyes. "What do you want, Jack?"
"I have what I want," I answer truthfully, slipping my hands under his tee shirt, around his back. He moves closer to me in response, dropping the chain, feeling my ass through the flannel of my boxers.
"So if you have what you want ... that means you owe me pizza."
"And then I can have what I want?"
"You can have what you want first, then you can get me the pizza."
I flip Daniel over, straddling him, I bring myself down onto my elbows, our engorged cocks rubbing through our boxers. The agony and ecstasy. Daniel again uses my dog tags and demands my weight upon him. Kissing ... bypassing tentative tonight ... going straight to the moaning, groaning. Clothes are awkwardly dispersed ... flesh upon heated flesh. A testament to our love tonight, not a struggle for dominance or a release of tension from work. Just us in bed, no ghosts, no nightmares. The outside world and the SGC stay in their appropriate places, far from us ... far from this bedroom ... at least for tonight, I get what I want.
Daniel is sitting on the bed eating his pizza. The bedroom smells of sex, sweat and warmed pepperoni. I lean over and kiss him, tasting the sauce and the wine he is drinking.
"Want to go for breakfast in the morning?" I ask, using my thumb to wipe an errant piece of cheese off Daniel's chin.
"Can I have what you had ... looked good." Daniel's places the plate on the floor, and finishes the remainder of wine in one gulp. Reminiscent of the scene in the diner, he uses his tongue to clean around his mouth. He slides down, under the covers carefully setting the wineglass on the nightstand."
"What?" I join him and we position ourselves for sleeping. "Eggs and pancakes?"
"And chocolate milk and a side of bacon," he responds with a yawn, the wine already loosening his hold on wakefulness. "Same place?" he mumbles. "I have an in with the hostess and she can get me a really good table."
"I have a better idea, Daniel ..." I whisper, smoothing down his hair that is tickling my chin. "How about in bed ... Eggs and pancakes in bed."
"Side of bacon and chocolate milk," he mutters from the cusp of sleep. "Then we can take a nap ... go back to bed? Breakfast and bed ... 'kay. I can do that."
There is silence in the room, I am lulled by Daniel's even breathing.
"Jack ... who's gonna cook breakfast?"
"Never mind, Daniel. Let's do McDonald's drive thru and bring it home to bed. No fuss no muss. We can just throw out the Styrofoam containers."
"Good idea, Jack. But we have to be there by 10:30 am ... they stop serving ..."
I can't even answer Daniel, he has fallen asleep mid-sentence. In all honesty, I got what I wanted today, and I have in my arms what I wanted tonight and forever. So the next few days off and the time we spend together are the extra to my meal of life ... my side of bacon.
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