LUCK O' THE IRISH BY PHOENIXE
||Jack and Daniel involved in a loving and committed
relationship, which usually involves sex.
||Established Relationship, Holiday fic, humour with a
touch of angst
||Season 7? No spoilers. Story 1 in the 'Holiday's
||Blame it on the Beer!
||Not recommended for Sam fans! anti s/j
||43 Kb Completion Date 14 Mar 05
"It is green," Teal'c
says with a disdainful glance at the
contents of his glass.
"Come on, Teal'c,
live a little!"
Sam giggles, giving our large,
unimpressed friend a playful nudge in
"It's Saint Patrick's
"So you have said,"
Teal'c states serenely. "DanielJackson has
informed me of the purpose of this
holiday, although I do not understand
what the copious consumption of a green
alcoholic beverage contributes to its
"You mean, other than
as an excuse to consume copious quantities
of any alcoholic beverage, green
or not?" I ask him with a green. I mean…grin.
Oookay, time to slow
down a bit. I
know I wasn't originally planning on
driving, but if Sam sucks back a few
more cold green ones, I just might be.
Teal'c places his
glass on the deck's railing, crosses
his arm and contemplates the wide,
barely greening expanse of Jack's back
yard. Hey it's
March; the lawn doesn't look like much
yet, but wait for it. By this time next month it'll
be like a wee patch of the Emerald
Jack likes his lawn. Almost as much as
he likes his beer.
But not as much as he likes me. And that's just
between him, me, and every room in
the house, as often as we can manage
I love the Irish. And one of its proudest sons.
"I will abstain,"
Teal'c loftily informs Sam. "I believe you should
consider exercising similar restraint. As should you, DanielJackson."
"Hey!" I gamely protest. "I've
been pacing myself!
We're not anywhere near 'copious'
Teal'c's next pithy
comment is interrupted by an unholy
wail exuding from the interior of the
house. It sounds
roughly like a bag of banshees caterwauling
from the bottom of a barrel.
pipes, the pipes are callllliiinngggg…."
Oh God. Jack. Jack's singing. Jack's singing 'Dannyboy'.
Oh God, this is so
If any one of us could
be described as being 'copious' at
the moment, Jack definitely fits the
he usually enthusiastically embraces
the celebration of one of his favourite
holidays, the rate at which he's been
tossing back the green-tinged brewskis
since the unexpected company showed
has been concerning me.
We customarily observe this most
sacred day privately, therefore the
rapidity with which he deliberately
achieves inebriation usually isn't a
Jack normally doesn't
drink to excess, and certainly not
to the degree he's become blotto today,
but Saint Patrick's Day is an exception. He wears the green
– drinks it too - with gusto, getting
totally and freely into the spirit,
most especially the alcoholic. And
he does it in the safety and privacy
of his own home, where only he and
me can see. Usually.
I hang out with him,
and help him celebrate. Keep him from
walking into things, falling down stairs
and breaking his neck, kissing people
he shouldn't. It's
kind of become 'our' day.
One of our traditions.
Like his penchant for marking the
occasion by serenading me with 'Danny
Because it's him and Saint Paddy's
day, I cut him some slack.
Today, and today only, once a year,
I let him it do it.
Once a year.
enough, the song alone, but believe
me, if you could hear what he does
to it, drunk or sober, even once a
year I think I'm being extraordinarily
Okay, I'll admit it
helps he's pretty damned cute, even
when murdering the classics.
The singing, although
it is making our ears bleed, isn't
what's worrying me.
It's what Jack's not-so-tender
rendition of the old Irish standard
signifies, what it's usually a prelude to.
I'm also remembering
last year, when Jack added a new 'tradition'
to our Saint Patrick's Day private
After lovingly and loudly rendering
Dannyboy, he presented himself to me buck
naked with a huge green bow tied around
That was a pretty
good year, I don't mind telling you.
This year, however,
as you can see, our private party has
been crashed. Sam
showed up when Jack was already well
on the way to 'copious', beers in one
hand, green food colour in the other, and
none to pleased to see I'd apparently
beaten her to the colonel.
Of course, I couldn't inform her I
was already here because I hadn't left
from the night before, but there you are,
and so was she.
So, to keep up appearances,
I made like her showing up unexpected
and uninvited was part of a grand master
plan we hadn't let her in on yet; Jack
had meant to invite all of us and she'd
beat us to the punch. I collected our
fourth, and now, here we all are, out
on Jack's deck, cringing from the aural
assault. 'Dannyboy' by Jack O'Neill. Run for your life,
Jack is proceeding
to mangle the second verse and if I
don't get in there like now
and head him off at the ass, our unsuspecting
team mates are going to be getting
more than an earful.
Shit, he's coming
Jack please have your clothes
I've barely started
to sidle towards the sliding doors
when Jack comes lurching onto the deck,
his sixth green beer in hand.
Fully clothed and
not a green bow or shillelagh in sight.
"Kiss me, I'm Irish,"
he leers at me, licking his lips enthusiastically,
stumbling towards me.
No doubt, no question
I'm the destination he's attempting
to perambulate, however crookedly,
toward, I'm the pot at the end of his
desired rainbow, but apparently the
woman standing beside me thinks Jack's
talking to her.
"Oh Sir!" she blushes
and giggles, taking an eager step toward
him. "We really
Jack pulls up short
like someone's abruptly nailed his
feet to the deck. He
stands there, bobbing back and forth
like a six foot punching bag, eyes
narrowed and glaring witheringly at our
flushing, dewy-eyed major.
Who is flushing and
glowing in clear expectation of collecting
I'm sure she's got
designs on the shillelagh as well. Not gonna happen. I'm all for team
spirit and share and share alike, but
you have to draw the line somewhere.
Jack looks like he'd
sooner toss on her shoes. Oh boy, now I really
wish I was copious. This is seconds
away from getting seriously ugly.
"Not YOU!" he snorts
at her, wrinkling his nose distastefully
before affixing me anew with a lecherous
stare, a huge, happy grin on his face. "HIM! Ohhhhhhh Daaaannneeeee boyyyyyy…"
Teal'c's eagle eyes
boring into my back, I'm instantly
in motion. "That's
enough for you, Jack," I make myself
laugh as I grab him, whirling him around
so abruptly the beer sloshes out of
his glass, liberally anointing the
deck in a wide swathe of sopping green. But a true Irishman
to the core, he doesn't lose his grip
on the glass or let another drop fall
while I hustle him toward the house.
"I'm gonna put Paddy
here to bed before he starts kissing
all of us," I toss jokingly back over
my shoulder and making an 'ewwwwww'
face hoping, praying Sam and
Teal'c will buy this explanation for
Jack's blatant attempt to put the moves
on me right under their noses.
"Irishmen," I feebly
dozen green beers and they're anybody's."
"Indeed," Teal'c observes,
his expression inscrutable. "Perhaps this would
be wise. I do
not wish to be kissed."
Sam's not saying anything
but it's clear she's not with Teal'c
vis a vis the whole oscular avoidance
Like this should come
as a huge surprise.
"smmmmooooshy…" Jack snorts into
my neck, and then licks it.
I have no idea what
that means and I'm much too terrified
to find out.
Okay, the sooner I
get this sodden son of Erin Go Braugh
into his bed the safer.
Then I'll figure out what, if
anything else needs to be said to cover
Jack's slip of the lip.
Or should that be his attempt to
publicly slip me the lip.
And probably some tongue.
I'm thinking Teal'c
won't be a problem, he's a pretty observant
guy and if he doesn't already know
for sure, he's definitely connected
a few dots but whatever his
personal opinion, he'll keep quiet. We don't flaunt
it, well normally not, and he
doesn't comment on what he does or
doesn't know one way or the other.
All in all, so far
it's been working well.
Sam, however, I just
don't know. Well,
I do know she wants what I've got,
namely Jack, and I also know, so far,
she doesn't know.
About what I've got and she's never
What I don't know – how
she's gonna take it when she finally
However, I have a
horrible feeling I'm only one copious
colonel and tucking him in bed away
from finding out.
I mean, she must know
she couldn't be that oblivious!
So much for the luck
of the Irish. Damn
you, Jack, I love you, you whacked
Irish bastard, but I think you've really
landed us in the soup this time.
My soused Irish Rose
comes quietly as I haul him along to
the bedroom and tumble him into bed,
not resisting, until he realises I
mean for him to sleep it off alone.
"Kiss me, Daneeeee,"
he slurs and belches, exuding the toxic
vapors of all the emerald ambrosia
he's imbibed. My
head swims in the noxious cloud and
I try to fight off what feels like a
dozen arms winding around my neck; the
unrepentant drunkard seems determined to
pull me down with him.
Believe me Jack, I'd
like nothing better, but we're not
got to deal with the company, and the
"Go to sleep, you
crazy Irishman," I tell him fondly,
kissing him lightly as I unhook from
his tenacious embrace. "I'll come back
I honestly don't know
if he heard me; as soon as he gets
his kiss he closes his eyes, smiles
contentedly and turns on his side,
nuzzling and burrowing.
I leave him happily warbling 'Dannyboy'
into his pillow.
I make my way back
to the main part of the house, mentally
weighing my options.
As I start down into the living
room I'm surprised to see Sam regally
installed in Jack's favourite chair.
She doesn't see me
at first; she's entirely wrapped up
in gazing raptly around the room. I can see the wheels
turning from here.
I can also see she's been snooping
again. The picture
of Jack, Sara and Charlie has been moved; turned
ever so subtly toward the wall.
I quash the spurt of anger the
sight invokes in me, a reminder, yet
another telling indication Sam knows
absolutely nothing about Jack, no matter
what she thinks she knows. Sara and Charlie
are sacrosanct, a part of Jack I respect
because he loved them. You don't mess
with them, you know?
And you don't mention them or ask
him about them.
He wants you to know something, you
He doesn't – well, then, you
They may be in his
past, but they are never far from his
Then she sees me and
smiles broadly, almost smugly, like
a woman with a fat, juicy, self-satisfying
she says, rising from the chair to
give me a hug.
Colour me confused. This was definitely
the last thing I was expecting.
"For – for what?"
"For," she sighs and
shakes her head, a fond 'oh that silly
dear' look on her face. "For covering for us," she breathes
dramatically, leaning closer, squeezing my
arm, like we're a pair of old
Huh? Still not getting'
Fortunately she seems
quite unaware of my confusion and continues
to fill in the blanks enthusiastically,
without prompting, steering me back
out toward the deck and our abandoned
"The colonel," she
"He's such a dear. I know he never
would have…it was the beer talking;
he didn't mean to share our
secret, but I guess you knew," she
finishes with a sly, sideward glance.
Knew? Oh – Oh my God! She – she –
"Obviously, you know
how we feel about each other, even
though it's against the regs," she
why you covered for him – for us. It
shouldn't surprise me he'd have confided
in you, of course he would have,
you're not in the military, it would
be safe to tell you and you're
such good friends and you spend
so much time together, how could you
not have known?
Anyway, thanks, Daniel," she
sighs, squeezing my arm again.
"You're such a good friend.
To both of us."
She thinks I was –
Jack was – it was all about her. And him. And her and him. She doesn't think, doesn't even suspect – hasn't
got a clue about the truth!
Oh my God, Sam, I
don't know whether to laugh or cry. Sure, this solves
our problem rather
neatly but, but…
She really doesn't
know! Can't see things any way but
the way she wants them to be. Really, really thinks Jack and her…her and Jack…
I'm suddenly feeling
very scared, and more than a little
sad. Sam, oh
Sam, I'm sure the wonderland you're
living in is a very interesting place,
but I'm afraid to tell you, you're
the only resident.
Don't pick out furniture;
trust me on this one.
And then we're back
on the deck, reunited with Teal'c,
and all conversation on the subject, real
and imagined, abruptly ceases.
God, just get me through the rest
of this day.
I'll have to tell Jack about this
eventually; he'll have to know just how
serious Sam's intentions are and how sure
she is of his reciprocation. To the
point of being downright creepy. I'll have to tell
him eventually, but not today.
"Are they gone yet?" Jack mumbles as
I fall into bed and spoon up behind
"Yep," I tell him,
moving in closer.
Don't wanna talk. Don't wanna think. Wanna
up?" he mumbles.
"Yep, the house is
"Carter's not hiding
under the bed or anything, is she?"
The last time I saw
Sam she was slung over Teal'c shoulder,
giggling and blowing me kisses. I think it's pretty safe to say she's down and out for
the count and won't be creeping unexpectedly
around any corners.
"Did I sing?" he whines. "Tell me, Daniel,
please tell me I didn't sing."
"What do you think?"
I chuckle, wriggling up against his
ass. He grunts
appreciatively, and then sighs.
"I'm thinking we go
out of town next year." He's silent for
a few seconds. "Did
I try and kiss you?" he finally ventures. "In front of Carter
"Don't worry about
it," I reassure, trying for casual. "They didn't see
Well, they did and
they didn't. It's
complicated and he's still too copious
to go into it right now.
"You are so shitting
me," he groans.
"Yes and no. We're in the clear, trust me.
Thanks to a little luck of the
"I have no idea what
that means and right now I'm too drunk
"Go to sleep, Jack,"
I soothe, kissing the side of his neck. "We'll sort it out
in the morning."
I wonder if I should
tell him because of his Irish charm,
and but for a bit of Irish luck, if
a certain someone had her way he might
have been waking up to Sam in the morning,
and not me.
On to April's Fools
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