"Strip," I order, prowling around Daniel as he stands near my bed.
"This is ridiculous," he complains, shaking his head, eyeing the bed longingly.
"Eh!" I shove my finger in his face. "Not a word."
He huffs loudly in frustration.
I'm not persuaded by his annoyance and I repeat my order to 'strip', using my newly acquired General voice. Just so he gets the idea, my fingers deftly unfasten the top button of his shirt.
"Hey!" Daniel bats my hands away. "I can do this myself."
"Yes, you can, but the problem is that you aren't doing it."
"Because I don't see why I should be taking off my clothes."
Bless his genius IQ, he's made the connection.
"But Dr. Brightman said I was fine." As he pleads his case, Daniel's gaze once again wanders over to the bed. "Exhausted. She said I was exhausted and that sleep would be a good idea. A great idea. Sleeping with you would be a fantastic idea." Daniel reaches for my belt buckle, but I refuse to be swayed by the visuals romping through my mind. Daniel ... naked ... bed ... and I'm almost embarrassed at the Homer Simpson moans of donut-desired-ecstasy that echoes in my brain.
I shake me head to clear my thoughts of one writhing, naked Daniel. "Dr. Brightman said I should sleep with you?"
"No, Jack, I was just, you know --" Daniel rolls his expressive hands.
"Trying to distract me?"
"Yes, Daniel, admit it, you were."
Eyes wide, a hummingbird flutter of those lashes, and Daniel now wears the look of innocence as he makes a futile attempt to bend my will.
I point to his eyes. "That's so not gonna work, Daniel."
"I should've lied."
"But you didn't. Now could you please take your clothes off."
Daniel gives me one last scathing look before he slowly unbuttons his shirt. Even without the use of language, he always manages to have the last word.
I step back, watch and remember two long months of worry. Of guilt, of praying to every god imaginable that Daniel had cheated death just one more time. And nothing in this or any other world sounded as good to me as his tinny voice calling my name, or the sight of him when he stepped through the Stargate virtually unscathed.
Ha! I should have known better. This is Daniel, for god's sake. What the hell was I thinking? There is no way Daniel could return after weeks away from Earth and not have left a part of himself on that planet -- whether it was blood or his emotional wellbeing.
After his obligatory visit to the infirmary, during his debriefing, Daniel had glossed over his injuries, focusing on his concerns. He was positive he had left behind a doomed people based upon what he believed was looming over the horizon. I listened, made the appropriate noises, informed him that I expected not only a proposal of how the SGC could assist these people in rebuilding, but also his mission briefing in my office by the end of the day. Proudly, I resisted the urge to order him back to the infirmary for another look see.
Within hours, both of those reports appeared in my inbox. I chose to read the mission briefing first, and seeing in black and white what he had inferred to during his debriefing forced my hand. At my earliest possible convenience, I dragged his sorry ass to my house under the pretense of rest and relaxation. The proposal on rebuilding could wait another hour or so.
Which brings us to the present time of having a half dressed Daniel standing in my bedroom, his fingers lingering on his belt, his discarded shirt on the floor. I ignore the shirt and order Daniel to proceed with a wave of my hand.
He unbuckles his belt, toes off his shoes and proceeds to rip off his pants and boxers in one fluid motion. Naked except for his socks, he stands at parade rest, his gaze focusing on the bed, while my eyes are trained the length and breadth of his body. Hesitantly, I reach out, touching imagined bruises that are no longer visible, skimming my fingers the length of his left forearm, pausing a moment on the scar from one well aimed bullet. "I want this arm x-rayed to make sure your offworld injury healed correctly."
Indulgently, Daniel smiles. "Yes, general."
I don't return the smile when I find two miniscule scars on his face, one of them a little too close to his right eye for my liking. "Explain."
My fingers move to the second mark. "And this one?"
Exasperated, Daniel pushes me aside and sits at the edge of the bed. "I don't remember too much of what happened. Yes, I was injured, confused, concussed and I hurt." He tugs off his socks and flings them over his shoulder.
"Look, Jack. See?" Daniel wiggles his toes and then waggles his fingers. "Ten fingers, ten toes. All where they're supposed to be." He pats the bed. "Me, right where I'm supposed to be. Though you, on the other hand, are still dressed and standing." His fingers begin to seductively stroke the space by his side.
I can't answer, Daniel has succeeded in making me feel foolish and ridiculous, and I turn away from his knowing smile.
"You didn't deserve that, I'm sorry."
"Damn right I didn't." I pivot. I've passed angry and headed right into furious and from the look on Daniel's face, he's reading me loud and clear. "I made a piss poor error in judgment. I allowed you to return to a volatile situation. Alone, with no backup."
"I knew the risks."
"Yes, you did," I yell. "Didn't I warn you?"
"I was trying to return, Jack. I really was. I'm not that stupid." He leans over to grab his pants and boxers, but I stamp my foot on them.
"I had said squirrelly."
"Yes I remember that quite clearly ... it was squirrelly and I was scampering."
"Not fast enough," I say, still refusing to lift up my foot even though he's trying to tug the combo out from under my heel.
Daniel gives up and reaches behind him for his socks, slipping them on, and then he leans forward and grabs his shirt.
"That's a good look for you."
"What?" he says, looking downward as he slips his arms into the shirt.
"The bare assed one." I step forward so now both of my feet are standing on his pants and boxers.
"You were worried." Daniel doesn't button his shirt, he just stands, appraising me.
"I had every right to be."
"The situation was out of my hands for awhile."
I raise my index finger. "Exactly, that's why I was worried." I touch his face, my thumb tracing the scar in the corner of eye. "I trust you ..."
"It's just everyone else you don't trust," Daniel finished my sentence for me, using his knee to tap my leg off his pants.
I stand fast, refusing to budge and it becomes of battle of limbs until both of us lose our balance and flop onto the bed. Daniel laughs and the fear still surrounding my heart melts a little with the warmth of the body I'm pinning to the mattress.
"We screwed up, Jack."
"Not we, as in me and you." He fixes his gaze somewhere over my left shoulder. "We, as in the SGC."
I've read the mission report, I had seen the haunted look in his eyes as he stepped through the 'gate, the look of concern in Teal'c's eyes, and Carter made sure to fill in the blanks. "We just hurried along the inevitable, that's all."
Daniel sighs from the depth of his soul and I know that's not the answer he wants, but it's the one he needed to hear. He squirms out from underneath me and sidles up to my chest and tucks his head under my chin. Daniel snakes his arm behind me and begins to pluck at the back of my shirt. "You're a little overdressed for the occasion."
I stand up and undress in record time while Daniel shucks his shirt and throws it in the direction of his pants. The bed bounces when I jump in and my toes search out his feet. "Socks?"
He wiggles his sock-covered toes against my bare feet. "Ooops."
"Ooops? What kinda answer is that?" I swoop down and tug off one sock, dropping it over the side of the bed and begin a deep massage of the now bare foot I hold in my hands.
He moans in pleasure, though after a few minutes he begins to insistently tap my hands with his other sock-covered foot.
"Ahhh." I grab the covered foot in my hands. "You got two of them."
"Two," Daniel agrees, "don't play favorites."
"I wouldn't think of it," and within seconds this sock joins its mate over the side of the bed. Instead of a massage, I treat Daniel to loud, noisy kisses around his ankle, which makes him burst out laughing as he attempts to pull away from me. "Oh no, you don't," I threaten, anchoring his ankles to the bed and proceed to lick, kiss and suckle my way up his legs, alternating between his left and right.
"No favorites," he moans as I kiss the inside of his thigh, a hair's breadth away from his cock.
"No favorites," I promise, kissing both sacs before I take his hard on in my mouth.
He arches up in surprise, and I can't help but laugh against his shaft, and Daniel grabs my short hair in retribution due to the vibration my laughter makes.
"I missed you," he says, loosening his hold, smoothing and stroking his fingers though my hair.
I agree with a nod of my head and a practiced swirl of my tongue along his organ. Daniel is grabbing the blanket with his left hand, clenching and unclenching the material in sync with my sliding up and down his cock, and he calls my name just as he comes.
I dress quietly as not to disturb Daniel's sleep and, once dressed, I slowly lower my ass onto the edge of the bed. I know I shouldn't, but I touch him, pushing his longer than usual hair off his forehead. Two months without a haircut and I selfishly relish the feel of his hair against my fingers, knowing that it'll be gone soon. I gaze intently at his naked form one more time, nodding as my eyes travel up and down the length of his body. Satisfied, I stand and cover him with the quilt.
I lean against the doorjamb, almost unwilling to leave Daniel. Two months is a long time, and I'm thinking that maybe when I get back to the SGC I'm going to grant myself and Dr. Jackson some serious downtime. The smile on my face seems to have a life of its own, expanding to epic proportions as I realize that being the General has some pretty nice perks.
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