EASTER EGOS  BY PHOENIX E

Yum.  Chocolate covered colonel; my favourite Easter treat!

“Well?” Jack huffs impatiently, the abrupt movement of his chest jostling my hand and the brush in mid-stroke.

“You done yet?”

Doodies, he made me screw up the last character!  Oh well, not like it matters that much. My latest effort, not that great.  Although my trusty chocolate standard has never let me down, my experiments with the new syrups haven’t been as successful as I’d hoped.  The Amaretto is a little thick, the Banana too runny, but the Blueberry, now, that’s just right.  Two out of three ain’t bad, but it still means for the most part the medium’s made me mess up, considerably, and as for the actual message, I’m afraid my first go at Khuni cuneiform... 

I definitely need more practice.  Oh…darn.

Ah, the perils of attempting to expand one’s artistic horizons. Still, the advantages of using my present ‘canvas’ – I screw up I can just lick it clean and try again. Failure can be a sweet experience, and I can’t wait to savour this one.  On exquisite slurp at a time.  

I get plenty of practice, and I will admit to being a bit of a perfectionist, I mean anything worth doing is worth doing well, and as far as encouraging my artistic expression, Jack has never complained. 

By all means, he’s right on board with try, try again.

Ah, the things we do for our art!

“Danny?’  Jack grunts again, impatiently bucking his hips. "You?  Done?  Yet?  Any chance?"

“Well, I would be, if you’d stop moving!”  I scold him.  Okay, I’m dragging this out a bit longer than usual, he’s been pretty good so far, but Jack’s not the poster boy for patience on a good day, especially when he’s -

“Enough with the brush,” Jack growls, pointing meaningfully at the chocolate-covered erection jutting proudly from my greedily clenching fist.

My masterpiece.

“I want licking, not painting!” Jack warns.  “Now.”

Sounds good to me.  Gonna taste pretty good, too.

“Okey doke, keep your – okay, don’t keep your shorts on but just let me get rid of this.”

I keep a firm grip on Jack’s delectable dick with my left as I reach right to put the paintbrush on the night stand.  It’s not much of a stretch.  My whole house would probably fit it Jack’s twice, the bedroom, compared to his is definitely cramped quarters, but that also makes it kinda cozy, and let’s face it, we really don’t need a whole lot of room for what we’re planning to do.

I’ll admit, at first it was kinda weird to be hanging here, instead of Jack’s, which is where we usually spend most of our time, that is, we used to, before the April Fool’s fiasco, but ever since then Jack’s developed a sudden preference for my place over his, so this is where we’ve been, pretty much for the last month, whenever we want to spend some ‘quality time’, and I’m actually getting to like it.

Maybe that’s why I haven’t come out and asked Jack why he hasn’t had ‘the talk’ with Sam yet.  I know damned well he hasn’t; let’s face it, he wouldn’t be hiding out here if he had, but ultimately it’s his problem, his mess, and he’s the one who’s gonna have to deal with it, whenever.   Besides, it hasn’t been all that bad, really, Jack is still feeling so guilty about that evening he’s been spoiling me rotten, I’m getting to spend more time in my house than I have since I bought the damned thing, and all this time we’ve been blissfully doing it, and each other, completely free of any interruptions, at least from Sam, because wherever she’s been lurking it hasn’t been around here.

But you know what, as far as I’m concerned, whatever Sam has been up to in the interim is none of my business. This may sound selfish, but as long as it doesn’t inconvenience me I really don’t care.  I don’t know if she still has her heart set on Jack or not; as long as whatever she’s been doing or thinking hasn’t actually involved either one of us she can fill her boots.

So yeah, Jack’s gonna have to deal with her eventually, but not today.  Definitely, not now.

Jack’s got his mess, I’ve got mine.  I gotta tell you, mine’s gonna be a lot more fun.

Oh yeah, Operation Tongue is about to commence!

Jack’s eyes gleam lustfully at me surveying my prize.  Where to start, where to start, should I lick top to bottom, or bottom to top?  Maybe I should start in the middle.

Decisions, decisions.

I shoot Jack a smouldering look of my own, licking my lips before touching the tip of my tongue to…

Oh God, please – no!

Doorbell!

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding!” Jack groans.

“Who the hell could that be!”  I fume, banging my forehead on Jack’s thigh.

“Well, for once we know who it couldn’t be,” Jack grumbles, and then looks anxiously at me.

“It couldn’t be her – right?”

“No, definitely can’t be Sam.  She’s in San Diego.  Flew out last night.  But whoever it is,” I sigh, regretfully eyeing the treat I must temporarily – I hope – forgo.  “I have to answer it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack grumbles.  “Go on, go,” he waves me away.  “Go get rid of them. I’ll stay here and try to not to melt, run or…wilt.”

Reluctantly I relinquish Jack’s chocolate schlong, and gravity proving to be an even stronger force than arousal, it flops back against his belly with a forlorn squish.  The sound tears my heart out but I have no choice but to turn my back and leave my lover staring mournfully at it while I dart into the bathroom to wash my hands.

There’s the damned bell again.  Keep your pants on; I need to get my pants on.

And shirt.  Not going to bother with socks or underwear, after all it’s not like I’m gonna be dressed long.

God willing.

I close the bedroom door behind me and head for the front door doing a quick visual check for anything incriminating as I pass through, just in case.  Not that it’s really necessary; although both Jack and I are huge fans of spontaneity we’ve learned a few lessons over the years, the most recent being about a month ago, and we’ve trained ourselves not to leave clues lying around in any ‘public’ areas of either one of our residences we’re engaged in a torrid and highly illegal love affair.

It’s just safer that way.  You never know…

Yep, kitchen is clear. Syrup containers safely stashed in the fridge.  Living room clear.  No socks, underwear on any other discarded clothing items on display.  Jack’s shoes are in the bedroom along with the rest of his clothing and his coat is in the closet.

We’re good.

Who the hell can this be?  Mrs. Stevens?  Good grief, I hope Cuddles isn’t up a tree again, I’m not in the mood for doing Tarzan impersonations.  The last time I had to fetch that fuzzball down she clawed me to shreds – Cuddles, not Mrs. Stevens, the old dear is eighty if she's a day and usually pretty harmless, just don't mess with her petunias or you won't know what hit you - and I nearly broke my neck in the bargain. And please, God, not Vanessa.  If that’s her this’ll be three ‘Oh Daniel, I hope you don’t think I’m being a pest, but…’ pop-overs this week.  I think she’s overdoing the good neighbour thing just a tad.  Jack thinks she’s warm for my form, however, as she only seems to darken my doorstep whenever he’s here, I think he’s barking up the wrong babe.

Mind you so is she, but that's another story.

It can’t be Mr. Phelps complaining about the noise.  We haven’t blown the place up in oh, at least a week.

Whatever, any of them is the last thing I need right now.  Oh well, there’s one bright spot in all of this, whoever’s knocking on my front door, there’s no way it can be –

Sam.

“Sam!” I yelp loudly enough they ought to be able to hear me back on the mountain, and hopefully with enough volume to warn the chocolate and amaretto/banana/blueberry covered man in my bed behind the closed bedroom door we’ve got a problem. 

“I thought you were visiting your brother this weekend!”

What is she doing here she’s supposed to be in fucking San Diego!

“Well, I was,” Sam dimples coyly at me.  “I was all packed and everything.  About an hour before I had to catch my flight Mark called me and said he had to cancel.  Both the girls have come down with the flu.”

You’re kidding. Inconsiderate brats, why couldn’t they get sick on their own time?

“So, I didn’t have to leave after all,” she continues to beam, craning her neck around me in order to peer into the house because I’m currently proving to be a significant obstruction to both her vision and her obvious intention of breaching the bastion of my front door.  I’ve planted myself firmly in said doorway and am giving her no indication I have any intention of either moving or inviting her in.  I’m praying she’ll take the hint and…

Fuck off.

“I stopped by the colonel’s house and he wasn’t home. I know he wasn’t leaving town so he had to be somewhere in the Springs.  He seems to spend an awful lot of time with you lately, so on a hunch I thought I’d shoot on over – “

Interesting choice of words.  Wouldn’t mind shooting you right now.

I have no idea why, but in the deep, dark recesses of my brain wherein reside some of my fondest fantasies Sam and firearms are becoming sort of synonymous…lately.

Go figure.

“…hoping I’d get lucky.”

Dream on, you may have found him but that doesn’t mean you get to keep him.

“Looks like I did!” she brightly chirps, after a triumphant glance back towards the curb and the irrefutable proof of her deductive reasoning.

Yeah, gloat away, girlfriend, Jack’s here.  That huge honking truck parked in front of my house is kind of a dead giveaway.

Crap.

“So, where’s the colonel?”  Sam asks, taking advantage of my momentary weakness to shoulder by me and barge blithely into my house.  She keeps on going, straight into my living room, which is noticeably devoid of the colonel in question.

That would be because he’s currently in my bedroom, and I’d better think fast before she deduces that as well.

This isn’t a big house; not a lot of places he could be, process of elimination will take about – oh, a minute or two, tops, especially at the speed at which it looks like she’s intending to proceed searching the place ‘til she turns him up...

Damn!

Think, Daniel, think!

“Um,” I stammer and gesture vaguely towards the back of the house.  “He’s…”

Oh wait, what’s that.  Running water, in the bathroom.  Shower.  Jack’s in the shower.  Well, he would be, he’d have to be, being as how he’s currently kind of…syrupped.

“Shower,” I croak, and force a weak smile.

Shower, Jack’s in my shower.  Oh God, oh God.

 “He’s in the shower?” Sam says, puzzled. 

Sure, why not?  I’m sure there are plenty of logical explanations not involving any sort of secret syrupy sexual assignations as to why Jack would be using my shower on Easter Sunday at ten in the morning when he’s got a perfectly good one at home.

Tons of them.  I just wish I could think of one. 

“Daniel, why is the colonel using your shower?”

Getting rid of the evidence, alas.  Ah, the humanities, all that lovely chocolate going down the drain, wasted, un-tasted.

Disa’s Dark Desire.  Fifteen bucks a quart.  Not including shipping and handling.  Da Vinci Gourmet Amaretto, Banana, Blueberry, another twenty five bucks worth of delectable confection swirling into the sewer without so much as a lick… 

I think I’m gonna cry.

The mere thought of the cruel, criminal, cosmic wrongness of it all is causing me actual, physical pain.

“Um…” I brilliantly reiterate.  She asked me a question.  A question I can’t answer.  Well, I could, because I do know the answer, but it’s not one I can share with her. 

I have to give her an explanation, a reason for why Jack is in my shower in the middle of the morning, one that does not involve chocolate or any other flavour of syrup.

Or why he was in my bedroom in a coated state in the first place.

I’m thinking the truth would be a little hard for her to swallow.

Never…never mind…

“Um, Jack…he…that is…”

I’m stalling for time, waiting for that brilliant inspiration to hit me, and so far I’ve got nothing.

“Daniel, something wrong?” she pauses in her aggressive snooping, her head swiveling around to affix me with a wide-eyed stare crawling with curiosity.  “You feeling okay?”

You know something, looking into those wide, expectant and completely clueless eyes, it’s scarily dawning on me I’m freaking out here for nothing; I gape at her waiting for her answer and so not getting what’s really going on here it’s suddenly painfully obvious I could tell her just about anything and she’d buy it.  The one thing I’m afraid of her finding out, the absolute truth, as far as she’s concerned that’s so far away from any possible realm of possibility it doesn’t even figure in her current universe.

I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.

I’m still desperately questing for the elusive explanation when my deliverance comes in the form of one Air Force colonel newly emerged from his shower, his hair still damp and frankly dripping, obviously hastily toweled off and dressed as quickly as possible.

Thank God.

In fact he was in such a hurry to get out here he hasn’t quite finished the getting dressed part.  He bursts into the room, moist and more than slightly rumpled, his head bent, his fingers frantically buttoning his untucked shirt.

“Thanks for letting me use your shower, Daniel,” he gives forth as he makes his entrance, pretending he’s unaware there’s anyone in the room but me.  “Damned hot water heater picked a fine time to pack it in.”

Oooh!  Nice one, Jack!

“Yeah, that feels a lot better,” he smiles, fastening the last button and finally looking up.

“Carter!” He stops when he sees her, his eyes widening in what anyone who didn’t know differently, namely our unexpected and unwanted ‘guest’, would swear was genuine surprise.

I’ll say one thing for Jack, he’s good.  He probably did a bit of eavesdropping and threat-assessing in the hall before he made his entrance, got that Doctor Dimwit here wasn’t doing so good in the ‘coming up with plausible excuses’ department and immediately whipped up his cover story to cover both our butts.

I’ll have to remember to thank him later.  Once we’ve given Sam the boot and we can safely get back to business. 

“Hi Jack, looks who’s here.  It’s Sam!”  I burble brightly.  Hey, I can play the innocent too!

Eventually.

“So I see,” Jack returns, looking confused.  This time for real. 

“What are you doing here, Carter, I thought you were going to San Diego to visit your brother this weekend.”

“Funny thing, Jack, seems she was just about to leave when the trip got cancelled.  Both her nieces have the flu.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Jack tells her and means it.  Yeah, we’re both incredibly broken up about the kids and all, but what’s even more distressing – she’s here, when she’s supposed to be there!

Jack throws a wordless, worried glance my way before tossing Sam a sickly smile.

Yeah, I hear you Jack.  Her plans for the weekend got cancelled, so that explains why she’s still here, in town, but not why she’s here.

Messing up our plans.

“Okay,” Jack ventures, with all the enthusiasm of a terminal patient asking his doctor how much longer he has to live.  “So you didn’t make it to San Diego, but why are you here?”

“She’s looking for you, Jack.”

Found you too, unfortunately.

So far Sam has been silently observing our verbal sparring without attempting to get in on the game herself, her head swinging back and forth between us like it’s on a pivot.  She fastens on my last comment as her evident cue to finally enter the conversation.

“Well, I’m here because I didn’t have to go away after all,” she pipes up, fixing a bright, expectant look on my colonel.

“Huh?” Jack intelligently observes.

What he said.

“I didn’t have to leave after all,” she prompts him.  “Soooo, we can go.”

What?  What is she talking about?

“What?”  Jack bleats.  His eyes dart rapidly between us; I can smell his fear from here.

What’s going on here – Jack is panicking.  He’s so spooked he’s about three seconds away from diving out my window and running for his life. 

I’m getting a baaaad feeling about this.  He knows a lot more than he’s saying, and what’s more, he knows damned well when I find out what he knows about what Sam is talking about I’m not gonna be turning cartwheels of delight.

Oh, I can’t wait to hear the rest of this!

“You know, the special Easter Sunday Brunch at Emilio’s we were talking about.”

Oh?  Really.  Brunch?  How fascinating.  And bizarre.  Seeing as how I know not only would Jack not brunch if his life depended on it but I doubt the word is even in his vocabulary I can’t imagine why they would be talking about it or where she’s going with this, but I’m definitely all ears.

“When I mentioned it you said we should go, but we couldn’t, obviously, because I was going away, but now I’m not, so we can go after all.  So here I am!” she finishes with a sunny smile.

“Oh yeah,” Jack mumbles weakly, his gaze resolutely fixed on his shoes.  “I did say something…like that…didn’t I?”

Jack, you didn’t!  Oh, you did too, you so did!  Stop staring at your shoes and face me you chickenshit!

Jack O’Neill, you are a dead man.  Deceased, expired, cancelled, deleted, expurgated, late and definitely not lamented…

You, sir, are an ex-colonel.

Flushed with triumph at her victory and utterly oblivious to the sudden murderous tension her comments have evoked Sam steps spritely forward, slipping her arm through Jack’s. Claiming her prize she starts hauling him toward the front hall.

“We should get going then, Sir, if we want to get a good table. We’ll catch you later, Daniel.”

She’s pulled him stunned and unresisting halfway out of the room before he rallies and realizes exactly what’s going on.  He digs his heels in so emphatically he leaves skid marks on my hardwood floor, briefly halting their headlong hurtle for my front door.

“Daniel?” he flings desperately over his shoulder while still doggedly resisting the determined traction on his right arm.  “You’re coming, right?”

Oh no you don’t you – you- bruncher! You’re not dragging me into this.

Sam grits her teeth, tightens her grip and puts her back into it. 

“I’m sure Daniel has lots of things he needs to do,” she grunts, managing through force of sheer will and relentless tugging to shift Jack another millimeter closer to the door.  “Don’t you, Daniel?” she hisses, throwing me a warning glance.  I have no trouble catching the meaning in that baleful blue stare.

Ooookay, I know when I’m not wanted, Sam couldn’t have made it any clearer, as far as she’s concerned this is one party I’m definitely not invited to; she’s set on having Jack all to herself.

Leaving me with no colonel, chocolate covered or otherwise, no hot sex and making my own damn lunch.  Brunch.  Whatever.

Hey!  Wait a minute! Once was bad enough but twice?

I don’t think so!

I know this is nuts, I shouldn’t be getting in the middle of this and oh yeah, I sure will be if I give in to Jack’s huge pleading eyes and tag along, but if I’ll be damned if I’m letting her get away with my colonel again!

“Nope,” I grin, pointedly ignoring Sam’s murderous glare slicing into me as I proceed to deliberately torpedo her hopes of getting away clean with the colonel.  “As a matter of fact, I’m free. I could eat.  Brunch sounds good.”

“Thank you,” Jack mouths at me, literally weak-kneed with gratitude I’ve opted not to do the sane thing and abandon him to Sam’s clutches.  Although we both know damned well I should have!  It’s as much as he deserves for whatever he’s said and done to make Sam believe she had a reasonable expectation of getting to spend more time with him that made her come here looking for him in the first place.

Save it buster, I’m not doing this for you.  This is between me and the pushy blonde who might not know she’s fighting a battle she’s lost before she’s even begun, but that doesn’t change the fact she’s poaching on my preserve, and quite frankly is really starting to piss me off.

You may have run him to the ground, Sam, but you’re not getting away clean with the goods.

Sam is quietly smouldering with frustrated fury and oh my – well, let’s just say I’m not her favourite person at the moment and I will be paying for this at some point in the not-too-distant future, but I’m not gonna worry about that right now.  I’m much too busy enjoying getting a little of my own back, even if I’m the only one who knows it. 

Yeah, don’t say it, it’s been a month after all and I’m well aware it’s petty of me to not let this thing go, and even pettier to enjoy messing up her plans quite so much, it’s not like she knows she did me out of a dinner and a hell of a hot time but –

Dammit, it was my party and I’ll cry if I want to!

“Okay, that’s settled then, we’re all going,” Jack happily announces.

Sam glares at me through narrowed eyes, but she knows she’s lost this round. Jack’s last statement has taken care of that.  If she wants any colonel action at all she has to accept the deal on the table, and it’s a package one.

In order to get the colonel she has to take the archaeologist along for the ride.

“So you’re buying then, Jack?”  I smile serenely at Simmering Sam, who is currently struggling with her game face.  She’s getting there, still not happy about the unexpected co-opting of her imagined cozy two-some into a trio, but she’s obviously decided to be a good sport about it. After all, half a colonel is better than none?

That’s right, suck it up and make the best of it.  It won’t be so bad; we’ll have a nice brunch, some conversation, sure it’ll be fine, we’re all friends, after all, we’ll have a good time, enjoy each other’s company for an hour or two and then…

Jack and I will make our fond farewells and make our way back here and…

Oh yeah, while it’s unfortunately, tragically true pretty much all of the Amaretto, Banana and Blueberry might have gone to waste, all is not lost; there’s still the Black Cherry, Bubblegum and Boysenberry.

And that’s just the ‘B’s.

I’d better leave room for desert.

Sam looks at me again.  She’s smiling like she’s perfectly fine with the new scenario, but there’s this subtle, sneaky gleam in her eyes. 

Really sneaky.

Did I just say something stupid like she’d decided to be a good sport about this?  Recognize she was beat and resign herself to enjoying what she could have as opposed to continuing to go after what she really wanted?

My certainty I’ve come out on top begins to waver as she looks at me again, the triumphant gleam in her eye definitely growing.  She steps in closer to Jack’s side, tightens her grip possessively and bares her teeth at me in a predatory grin and that’s when I know I’ve been suckered.

Dammit – she’s got something up her sleeve and it isn’t Jack’s arm!

“Well, then it’s the three of us,” she says with all the smug certainty of a cat that knows the canary is well and truly in the bag.  “That’s fine, it’ll be fun.  But there’s no reason to bring all three vehicles, tell you what, Daniel, why don’t you meet us there?  Colonel, I’ll hitch a ride with you and I’ll leave my car here, you don’t mind, Daniel if I pick it up…later?”

She pauses significantly before she utters the last word, and the look she gives Jack – and then me - is equally eloquent.

Oh, Sam that was slick. You did it to me again and I didn’t even see it coming.  The new scenario, according to Sam:  you and Jack arrive at the restaurant in his truck, ensuring, I’m sure, to your way of thinking, whatever happens you will be leaving with him as well.  We eat, you make small talk with the third wheel and then you ditch him, finally achieving the original objective of having the colonel all to yourself after all.

Then you’re free to work on the ‘later’ part with absolutely no interference.

Yeah well, you’ve forgotten the third wheel has wheels as well. The colonel with the truck isn’t the only one who can get you back to your car, which, seeing as how it’ll be waiting for you at the curb in front of my house, it would really make more sense for me to be the one to drive you back to it.

Conveniently  colonel-less.  But not for long, he’ll be coming…later.

Once you’re outta here and out of our hair.

Oops, sorry Sam, but you getting back to your car, isn’t going to be as ‘later’ as you think.  You’re smiling now, but I’m gonna get the last laugh.

However, the important thing now is to convince her I’m fine with her plans so she’ll relax and stop worrying about getting the better of me  – and oh, oh yeah, Jack.

I have to calm Jack down before he starts freaking again.  Sam has resumed hauling him toward the door and he’s digging in once more because he’s finally connected the dots and feels the jaws of the trap snap shut.  He gets it.  If things go according to Sam’s plan he’s gonna be spending the day – and possibly a large chunk of the evening – with her.

Or so he thinks.

You know, I should let him go on thinking that.  I should.  I really should.  Might teach him a lesson or two.

Nah…that would be mean.  Fun, but…mean.

I’ll throw him a bone.  Wouldn’t want him to have a stroke before we get to the restaurant.

“Okay, that works for me, let me just grab my coat.  Jack, as long as you’re here, you wanted to borrow – that – “

“Oh yeah!” Jack exclaims, catching my drift.  “I’ll just – get it – Sam?” he turns to her, wrestling his arm out of her clutches, which isn’t easy.  “Why don’t you wait for me by the truck, I’ll be – I’ll just be a sec – “

Her face momentarily clouds; she’s clearly not thrilled with the idea of letting Jack out of her sight even for a second.  She takes a few uncertain steps towards the front door and then stops, turning back and frowning like she’s not entirely convinced I won’t spirit Jack out the back way as soon as her back is turned.

From where I’m standing that’s not exactly completely beyond the realm of possibility.

Jack seals the deal by dropping his keys in her hand.

“You go on, open her up and I’ll be right out,” he reassures her.  She grins happily, nods, then scurries out the door, staring at the keys she's clutching with the same covetous fervor she’d reserve for an engagement ring.

And actually, what he’s just done is almost as binding.  And traumatic.  She had no idea what handing those keys over cost him; nobody touches Jack’s baby but him and me, and I’m pretty iffy at the best of times.  Giving Sam his truck keys was an unbelievably courageous act, a tremendous sacrifice, especially as it means Sam is now out there, in his truck. 

Alone. 

Unsupervised.

Touching stuff…

Breathing on his windows.  Sitting on his upholstery. Messing about with the presets on the radio.  Snooping through his glove box. Checking out his CDs.  Fingering his dashboard.  Playing with his stick shift. God only knows what sort of mayhem, chaos and destruction she could single-handedly wreck in that cab during the - oh – minute or two she’ll be alone in it. 

Come to think of it I’m not exactly crazy about her being in there, sitting in my seat, doing any of that stuff…either.

Although, thinking about…fingering things…oddly enough, it’s making me kinda…hot…

Where was I?  Oh yeah, but desperate times call for desperate measures and we finally got her out of the house.  We don’t have a lot of time here so we'd better get this over and done with before Sam starts changing the oil or something.

I’ll set Jack’s mind at ease about who’s gonna get custody of Sam after he’s picked up the tab, but there’s one or two things I need to clear up first.

“Thanks Da