Comfort Zone

Eos

"Jack?" I call, poking my head into his office.

I've wandered down to the so called executive wing of the SGC in search of my 'fearless leader' because I'm badly in need of a distraction. And who better to provide that distraction than a man who is neither fearless nor my leader but is himself easily distracted?

"What?" Jack asks, glaring at a calendar.

Besides, I want lunch. And Jack's paying; he just doesn't know it yet.

"What's up?"

"Nothing," he says tersely, still eyeing the calendar like it was the first draft of Sam's book on wormhole physics.

"Do you have something against the Gregorian calendar? 'Cause I can convert it to the Julian if that would help."

"Leave," Jack says.

"Excuse me?" I say, halting with my ass halfway into the chair that sits across the desk from Jack.

"As in vacation," he explains.

"Vacation? Well, I can see how that could make you tense," I say, finally plopping down in the chair and waiting for him to explain.

"Jerk," he snipes, but he relaxes back in his chair. Which, I've just noticed, is much nicer than the chair in my office. Probably a compensatory thing. After all, Jack has less than I do. Money, that is. He has less money. He's got plenty of everything else.

"So what's the problem with vacation?" I ask, trying to recall my mind to the topic at hand.

"I have to decide what to do with it."

"This from the man who is constantly telling me and/or Sam to get a life?"

"It's a 'do as I say, not as I do' thing."

As if I didn't already know that.

"It's not that I don't know what I want to do," Jack says in explanation. "It's that I don't have time to do it all. To do both."

"What are the options?"

"Dad wants to go fishing."

"Well, there you go," I say, getting to my feet, ready for chow. "Let's eat."

"What do you mean--there you go?"

"Dad. Fishing. Sounds like the perfect Jack O'Neill vacation to me."

"Well, yeah," Jack says.

"What's the alternative?"

"You," Jack says quietly.

"Oh." Once again I've been brought to my verbal knees by a single word from Jack. I really hate when he does that.

"But... fishing," I point out.

"Yeah, we go every year that I'm not busy saving the planet or something," Jack says with a sigh. "And I love it, don't get me wrong. It's just... to be honest it's a little scary. Dad has these bad spells with his heart and that cabin is miles from anything."

This is something I've pointed out repeatedly. Granted, no one can hear me scream during sex. But at the same time--no one can hear me scream.

"Do you have to go to your cabin?" I ask. "I mean--Minnesota has 10,000 lakes, right? Maybe you could even find one that has fish."

"I could rent a place closer to home," Jack agrees, giving me the 'you'll get yours when we get home' glare. "But that doesn't solve the problem. I've only got enough time right now to take one trip."

"So go with your Dad," I urge. I may occasionally be insecure about my role in Jack's life--I'm working on it--but I've never been so pathetically needy that I'd try to come between Jack and his dad. Or Jack and his fish.

"You could come with us," Jack suggests.

"Right. You, me and Tom. That's a plan," I say sarcastically. It hasn't been all that long since Jack's dad found out about us. He was very decent about it... but there's such a thing as pushing your luck. Sheesh. Who am I kidding? Jack thrives on pushing his luck.

"He likes you," Jack insists.

"Doesn't matter. I still think a father-son trip is best done without the son's special friend."

"Come on, it'd be fun," Jack wheedles. "And I'd feel better having someone else there in case something did happen to Dad."

"Thanks but no thanks. Honestly, Jack, my idea of a vacation with you might involve a pole but it sure as hell doesn't involve fish."

I'm so glad Jack's office doesn't have security cameras. Rank does have its privilege. And I abuse that privilege at almost every turn. Jack just shakes his head in amusement.

"Now come on, feed me."

"Why do I have to feed you? You're not even on my team anymore," Jack complains as he turns off the light and locks the door behind us.

"Because it annoys the crap out of Tim when you do."

"Ah, right. Knew there had to be a reason."

"Sir, Daniel," Sam calls brightly from the table where she's sitting with Teal'c and Tim.

Jack and I finish filling our trays and edge our way carefully through the crowded dining room. Jack, as always, barges through with his 'don't fuck with me' attitude, confident that the human sea will part before him. I'm left to stumble along behind, buffeted by careless elbows and protruding chair legs, resigned to having to hoist my tray high in an effort to avoid wearing my lunch.

"Glad you're here, sir," Sam says as Jack sits down. "We're planning Daniel's birthday party."

"W-what?" I stammer, nearly dropping my tray on Teal'c's head.

"Birthday. Party."

"No. Way," I say, dropping into my chair and shaking a French fry vehemently in her face.

"So what kind of party are we talking about?" Jack asks, sitting down next to me.

"Did you not hear me just now?" I ask, turning my French fry on him. "No party."

"That's the problem," Sam says to Jack as if I weren't even here. "I suggested an Indiana Jones theme."

"Obvious," Tim mutters disdainfully under his breath.

"Dr. McGill suggested male strippers," Sam says.

"Works for me," Tim says, ignoring Jack's threatening look.

"Honestly, it doesn't not work for me," Sam admits, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.

"I'm not five years old. I don't need a theme," I protest. Honestly, male strippers don't not work for me either. But I suspect that would exceed the bounds of 'don't ask, don't tell' even if I am a civilian.

"I am sorry to hear that, Daniel Jackson. I am curious about these male strippers," Teal'c says.

Although I should be used to Teal'c's curiosity by now, I'm taken completely off guard. The thought of sitting around with my closest friends, and my lover, watching male strippers brings on a strange mixture of embarrassment and arousal. Unfortunately, I was in the process of swallowing the French fry. Jack spends the next several minutes smacking me on the back hard enough to dislodge a lung, all the while debating the merits of strippers.

"You've seen strippers, Teal'c. Remember when we went... ?" Jack stops abruptly, his eyes shifting nervously as he realizes he's just dug himself into a hole.

"Female strippers," Teal'c says while Sam gives Jack the eye. She's just waiting to see him get out of this one.

"Same thing," Jack mumbles.

"Not on Chulac," Teal'c says, raising an eyebrow. Sam grins evilly at Jack's flustered expression.

"It's a naked body. Seen one, seen them all. And aside from the fact that strippers aren't Daniel's thing... are they, Daniel?" Jack says, giving me one last whack for good measure. I managed to wheeze out an agreement. "It's a little tacky."

"So it'll be the usual beer and barbeque at your house then, sir?"

"Why mess with success?"

"Can I bring a date?" Tim asks hopefully.

"Who?" I ask.

"No," Jack says flatly, giving me a dirty look.

"Our get-togethers are usually dateless," Sam explains to Tim. "Mostly because none of us have much luck finding a date."

Not and keeping them alive. Oops. Oh. Gee. Um... looky there--another French fry. And ketchup.

"Speak for yourself, Carter," Jack says, affronted. "We don't all restrict our personal lives to machines that glow in the dark."

For a moment the silence of utter disbelief falls over the table.

"I shouldn't have said that, should I?" Jack asks with a sigh.

"Probably not," I agree.

"You know what I meant," Jack insists to all of us.

"Nope. Not touching that with a ten foot, glow in the dark... ."

"Daniel!" Sam laughs, giving me a little kick under the table.

"And you--you can make all your little Machiavellian plans: bribe, seduce and generally terrorize people into helping you," I say to Sam, attempting to deflect attention from Jack. "But you can't make me come."

"I can," Jack says.

His face goes blank for a second as Tim makes an odd choking noise.

"To the party," Jack adds.

Okay. So deflecting attention from Jack didn't really work out the way I'd intended.

"Sorry," Tim says, pointedly clearing his throat. "Went down the wrong pipe."

"Right," Jack says. He tears his suspicious gaze away from Tim and points a finger at me. "It's your birthday and we're going to have a party."

I don't do birthdays. I haven't since I turned 21 and became legal. Or as legal as I would ever be. On this planet.

"Jack," I protest.

"Daniel," he mocks.

"No singing and no booze," I say, caving in spectacular fashion. I'm only doing it for Jack. He likes birthdays and anniversaries and... . The truth is, Jack just likes parties. If I refuse he'll be disappointed.

"That's up to you, Daniel," Sam says sweetly. Uh huh--I know better. She's planning to get me drunk and make me tell her all my secrets. And by default--a lot of Jack's secrets.

"No booze," I repeat.

"No?" Jack asks.

"No. Loose lips sink ships."

"I wouldn't know," Jack says, losing interest and attacking his meatloaf. "I'm Air Force."

"This is nice," I say, sprawled across Jack's lean body, sweaty and content, watching the dying sunlight through Jack's bedroom window.

"For you, maybe," Jack says, bucking up a little in a not so subtle 'get off me' gesture. "All that muscle you've been putting on is heavy."

I roll off Jack and look at myself. It's not something I normally do. I mean--I've got all the right parts and they're all in working order. That's generally enough to satisfy me. I started the weight training purely... mainly for the purpose of getting stronger. After all when one travels through the galaxy fighting evil alien overlords it pays to be as ripped, er, strong as possible. Besides, standing next to Teal'c in the showers had started to give me a complex.

"It looks good," Jack says, eyeing me as he stretches until his joints pop. "Just heavy."

"Oh." I let my head drop to my pillow and sprawl out flat on my back. "That's not what I was talking about anyway."

"No?" Jack eyes the mail which ended up scattered across the floor after I grabbed Jack at the front door and made my intentions perfectly clear. With a sigh he rolls out of bed, collects the envelopes and settles in again, leaning back against the headboard.

"No, I was talking about actually having the same schedule for once. We're both on the same planet working basically the same hours. And when we do go off-world next we'll be going together."

And yes, my inner child is jumping up and down with glee at the opportunity to be going on a mission with SG-1 again.

"It is nice," Jack says absently as he sorts through the mail. "Of course you're only saying that 'cause you're getting some on a regular basis."

"Like you didn't have the same thing in mind."

"Please. You were ready to jump my bones the minute we walked through the door," Jack laughs.

"And you love it."

"I got no complaints," Jack says with a nod. "Oh--here ya go."

Jack hands me an envelope. It's addressed to me... but at Jack's address. I glance at the return address and look up at Jack with surprise.

"It's from your parents," I say.

"I noticed."

"Why?"

"I suppose Mom doesn't have your home address," Jack says, setting aside the bills to be opened later and tossing the junk mail on the floor.

"No, I mean--what is it?"

Jack grabs the envelope from my hand and touches it to his forehead. After a moment of extreme concentration he says, "It's coming to me... yes... yes, it's a subscription to 'Nude Fisherman's Weekly'." Jack tosses the envelope at me. "How the hell would I know what it is? Open it."

"Prick," I mutter.

"Again?" Jack glances down at himself. "'Fraid you'll have to wait a bit."

"You're not the least bit sexy when you do that."

I lie. Although it's not so much what Jack says as the mischievous twinkle in his eye and the sly smile on his face. Jack doesn't smile nearly often enough.

"You love it when I'm rude and crude and socially unacceptable," Jack says confidently.

"Do not."

Such a liar. My nose should start growing any minute here. If it hurries it may even catch up with my dick.

"Oh."

"What?" Jack asks.

"It's... it's a birthday card." I hold it up for Jack to see.

"Sweet," he nods. Sweet? I haven't received a birthday card since... since I don't remember when. Jack swings his legs over the side of the bed, pulls on his shorts, and grabs the card. "C'mon."

"What?"

"C'mon," Jack says more forcefully, striding from the room. I scramble out from under the covers, snagging my own shorts as I go. I finally stumble into the living room just in time to see Jack set the card on the mantel over the fireplace.

"Um... Jack?"

"That's what we always did with cards," Jack explains.

"It looks stupid all by itself," I argue, both embarrassed and touched.

"No. It gives it significance." Jack gestures grandly, like it's some great piece of art. I just raise my eyebrows.

"Significance?" I say. I must have missed something.

"You're in. You're part of the family."

"It's a birthday card."

"Trust me. My mother doesn't send a card to every Tom, Dick or Daniel who crosses her path." Jack nods smugly. "You're in."

"Oh. Um... Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I still think she's scary."

"Absolutely," Jack agrees. "Hey, Dad wants you to come on the fishing trip."

"No, he doesn't."

"Then why did he say he did?" Jack challenges.

"Being polite?"

"No," Jack says flatly. "And while we're on the subject, I still can't believe you didn't tell me."

Jack was nearly sick by the time he finally worked up the nerve to tell his dad about us. Jack has to maintain a very specific image. A necessarily heterosexual image. But he wants his folks to know who he really is, and to have that be part of the respect and love they have for him.

When his mom found out, guessing on her own, it took Jack by surprise. He didn't have time to get worried about her reaction. But apparently he'd worked himself into a state by the time he actually told his dad.

And when Jack found out that I'd known that Tom was already aware of our relationship he went absolutely bugfuck. Or so I heard. Of course, no one at the SGC knew why Jack was so irate when he returned to duty; they just knew that he was. Apparently he left stunned NCOs quaking in his wake wherever he went. Fortunately I was on another planet at the time so I didn't actually witness the 'wrath of Jack.'

By the time I got home the fury had ebbed significantly, and he was happy to see me in one piece, so the argument wasn't as heated as it could've been. I explained to him that the reason I pushed him to talk to his dad was because I knew. He accused me of being oblique and still hasn't forgiven me for not at least giving him a clue.

"I did!" I insist.

"Didn't!"

"Too subtle for you?" I ask disingenuously.

"Bite me," Jack snaps. "Christ, Daniel, I nearly pissed myself."

"Jack, he asked me to not tell you," I remind him. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Tell me," Jack says bluntly.

"That would've fostered real trust and respect between your dad and me," I say sarcastically.

"Daniel--key point here. My dad is in Minnesota. You're in Colorado."

"And?"

"And I can make you sleep on the couch."

"Maybe you can... but you won't."

"Don't push me," Jack warns.

I peel my shorts off just slowly enough to make it a bit of a production. Jack likes me naked. Yeah, go figure--but he does.

"You can't manipulate me with sex," Jack insists, despite the fact that his cock is peeking out through the gaping fly of his boxers, just begging to be manipulated.

"Wanna bet?"

Jack grasps my head between his hands and shakes his head, exasperated.

"You know you annoy the crap out of me, don't you?"

"Foreplay," I agree.

"Good morning, Daniel Jackson."

"Wh... oh, hey, Teal'c." I push my chair back from the computer a bit so that I can see Teal'c around the monitor. "What's up?"

"Nothing is up," Teal'c says. He fully enters the office now that I've acknowledged him. "I simply wished to 'touch base' with you."

"Oh. Good. I'm glad you did," I say.

Crap. Sam was right. I'm not keeping in touch with her and Teal'c like I should. I am very busy with SG-7. And SG-1 is often off world when I'm on, and vice versa, so I grab whatever time I can to spend with Jack. But that's no excuse for ignoring my other friends. I shut down the program I've been working in and give Teal'c my full attention.

"So, how've you been?" I ask.

"I am well, thank you," Teal'c says.

"Been busy, though, haven't you?" I ask, knowing full well SG-1 has had its hands full lately. It's like they're expected to make up the time they were on stand down while Jack was recovering from his punctured lung.

"Quite so," Teal'c agrees. "We have been off world a great deal since O'Neill returned to duty. And when we are not, then it is often you who are gone. It has been difficult to find time in which we may speak together."

"That's true... . But it's no excuse. I should've made time for you. And Sam. I'm sorry about that."

"You have had other priorities," Teal'c says. Er... yeah. Like conducting a highly secret and completely illegal affair with Jack. "I am looking forward to our joint mission. It will be enjoyable to work together once again."

"Yeah, me, too," I say, smiling at the thought. "SG-7 is a good team, they really are, but I've missed working with you guys."

"As I have missed working with you."

"It'll be just like old times."

"You have resolved your difficulty with O'Neill then?" Teal'c asks, staring intently at me.

"We've... reached an understanding," I say, trying to hold Teal'c's gaze without giving anything away.

"I thought that perhaps you had."

"You did?"

"Indeed."

And Jack accuses me of being oblique.

"What is it with you lately?" Jack asks as he closes my front door behind him. He kicks off his shoes, eyeing me suspiciously as if he thinks I'll jump him right here, right now. I would, too, if he weren't on the defensive.

"Nothing."

"You're hornier than a herd of rhinoceroses."

"It's a crash of rhinoceri. And I am not."

"Are," Jack says very definitely. "And 'rhinoceroses' is too right."

"No, it... ."

Damn. Now I'll have to look it up in the dictionary and Jack will never let me forget it. It doesn't even matter whether he's right or not--just the fact that he made me look.

"I'm not complaining," Jack continues. "Just wondering why the sudden surge in testosterone."

"Don't you ever have those times when you're just kind of... excitable?"

"Hmmm," Jack says noncommittally as he makes his way to the kitchen. He stops and stares at me from the door. "You sure it isn't the age thing?"

"What 'age' thing?"

"Your birthday. I'm just thinking that the constant desire for sex could be a way of thumbing your nose at getting older."

"Huh?"

First of all: Jack is no better at pop psych than I am. Second: when have I ever been insecure about aging? Come to think of it--when have I ever been insecure about anything? Other than Jack being only partly gay, of course.

"It's normal, Daniel. Nobody likes getting older. Some guys buy fast cars or hot women." Jack snorts. "Leave it to you to lust after an old colonel as a way of dealing with your midlife crisis."

Excuse me? It can't be a midlife crisis because I'm not middle aged. Well... I guess technically... maybe I am. Except that the first time I died I was barely into my thirties, which means I'd already lived half my life by the tender age of fifteen. Which means I've been 'middle aged' for the last twenty years or so.

Oh, let's face it. I'm living on borrowed time no matter how you slice it.

"Um... I appreciate the concern but I really don't worry much about getting older. It's better than the alternative. And I would know; I've tried the alternative. More than once."

"That's true," Jack says with a thoughtful nod. "So the constant desire for sex is... ?"

"A guy thing?"

"Ah!"

I nearly spill my ginger ale when someone gooses me. I freeze, wondering who would be so bold. There aren't a lot of suspects to choose from. Jack gave in to my request to keep the birthday bash small. Just SG-1, SG-7: Colonel Andrews, Captain Wilson and Lieutenant Rojas, and a few odd friends like Janet and Nyan. Not that they're 'odd'... well, okay, Nyan is a little odd. But... .

What was my point?

Another pinch on my ass reminds me. I turn around and standing right behind me looking not the least bit repentant is Jack. Well, I'm surprised. Not.

"Pinch to grow an inch," Jack explains.

"Hate to break it to you, Jack, but I finished growing a couple of decades ago."

Jack just grins smugly and slides past me into the living room to resume schmoozing. And why is it that someone who clearly has the gift of gab can't find it in himself to show the least bit of tact when dealing with aliens or politicians?

"Colonel?"

I turn at the sound of Sam's voice, so puzzled. Oh. Crap. She's looking at my birthday card. I completely forgot about Jack setting it out on the mantel. Well, that's... discreet. Janet's ears perk up from across the room where she's setting off a few sparks with Captain Wilson, the geologist assigned to SG-7.

"Yes?" Jack says, trying to project an air of innocence.

"Why is Daniel's birthday card here?"

"Because it's his birthday?" Jack suggests.

"You do know that when Daniel asks you to pick up his mail it means only when he's off-world. And you're supposed to leave it at his apartment," Sam explains, talking to Jack as if he were ten years old. And really, can you blame her?

"Party decoration," Jack says with a wave of the hand. "It's... festive."

"Very festive," Tim says with snide condescension. I think he's still mourning the absence of male strippers. "Be a whole lot more festive if we had some beer."

"Beer? Oh. Ah... Daniel?"

"I got it," I assure Jack, grateful to escape for a moment.

Sam won't give it a second thought. I know her. She'll chalk it up to just another weird Jack and Daniel thing. But there are others who, given a moment to think about it, might wonder a bit. Maybe even more than a bit.

I quickly seek out the relative safety of Jack's garage where I pause to take a deep breath and relax. Then I turn around... and jump about a foot in the air because Janet is right there, giving me the eye.

"So?" Janet drawls.

"So?"

"Spill, Daniel."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, grabbing a couple of six packs from the extra fridge Jack keeps in the garage.

"Why is your birthday card in Colonel O'Neill's house?"

"You heard him. Party decoration."

God. It sounds even lamer the second time. And it was pretty fucking lame when Jack said it the first time.

"Oh, please," Janet scoffs.

"Sam believed it."

And I have to ask myself--what difference does that make? Do I really think Janet will back down just because it went over Sam's head? Um... no.

"Come on, Daniel," Janet chides. "I love Sam; she's my best friend. But sometimes the woman couldn't buy a clue."

I make a bunch of meaningless noises at Janet because I can't honestly deny it. Sam can be oblivious in ways I've never imagined possible.

"Daniel... ."

"If you want to know about Jack's postal fetish you'll have to ask him," I insist.

"I can't ask the colonel," Janet says.

"Well, I'm not telling."

"Daniel?"

Jeez damn it! I wish people would stop sneaking up on me.

"Yes, Jack?" I say a little too quickly. Jack frowns, picking up on my agitation.

"Something I can get you, Doc?" Jack asks, regarding Janet warily.

"Nope," Janet says brightly. "Just giving Daniel a hand."

She grabs the beer from me, winks, and heads back into the house.

"Daniel?"

"She knows," I tell him. "Well, she doesn't know, but... she knows."

"Well, we kind of figured that," Jack says. We did. After my slightly melodramatic turn in the infirmary when Jack suffered another alien induced hole in his body, it was inevitable that someone as shrewd as Janet would at least question the possibility. Jack shrugs and waves for me to hand him a six-pack. "If she hasn't said anything so far, she won't."

"I'm afraid General Hammond wasn't very impressed with my performance on the mission," Nyan says dispiritedly. He stands in front of Jack's fireplace fidgeting with the beer bottle in his hand.

"It's not your fault and Hammond knows that," I tell him.

Poor Nyan. He was so excited to find a gate address that wasn't on the Abydos cartouche, hopeful it would be a planet that had belonged to the Ancients. And when Hammond allowed him to accompany the team assigned to check it out, Nyan was thrilled to death. Unfortunately the mission was a bust. The planet was almost certainly part of the Ancients' empire, but long ago abandoned with nothing left behind.

"Besides," Tim interjects, leaning casually against the wall next to the fireplace. "It wasn't really General Hammond you were trying to impress, was it? More like that Lieutenant Landis."

Nyan sputters furiously for a moment before bolting across the room.

"Aliens are so easy," Tim says, grinning. Teal'c cocks his head and stares pointedly at Tim before going across the room to reassure Nyan. Tim just starts humming "Who let the Dogs out."

"Nyan and Karen Landis?" I ask Tim. "How is it I don't know anything about this?"

"You're a little wrapped up in your own affair... s," Tim suggests.

Apparently.

A sudden choking noise from across the room attracts everyone's attention. Nyan is coughing helplessly as Teal'c thumps him on the back.

"What?" Jack says, looking up at me from his seat on the couch like he thinks I should know.

"What?" I say, shrugging back at him.

"I merely offered to assist Nyan in courting the woman he desires," Teal'c says, sounding a little affronted.

"Yes, thank you, appreciate that," Nyan says a little breathlessly.

"This I gotta hear," Jack says, his eyes lighting up. "Come on, Teal'c. Tell us how you court a woman on Chulac. Flowers? Poetry?"

"If that is the best one has to offer," Teal'c says archly.

"What's wrong with poetry?" Jack snaps defensively. Jack would never publicly admit to his fondness for poetry. Not because he thinks it's 'sissy' but because he's afraid that if people know he likes poetry they might expect him to be intelligent. Or--worse--emotionally mature.

"A Jaffa warrior prefers to attract a woman by demonstrating his strength and endurance," Teal'c says.

I have to confess to liking both ways. I'm always touched by Jack's softer side, when he lowers his guard enough to show it. But his strength and endurance do amazing things to me, too. Whoa boy, do they.

"Why not just club her over the head and drag her back to your cave?" Jack says.

"Because Jaffa do not live in caves," Teal'c says, his eyes glowing with humor despite his smug air. "That would appear to be a purely human activity."

"Oh... phooey," Jack grumbles.

How can you not love a man that eloquent? Then again, I really can't hold that against Jack. Arguing with Teal'c is very difficult. You just can't tell for sure when he's being serious and when he's pulling your leg.

"Yeah, how many have you dragged back to your cave, Colonel?" Tim asks, seizing gleefully on the opening Teal'c has given him.

"None," Jack says sharply, to Sam and Janet's amusement. He eyes me pointedly. "But I've had to drag a few people out of caves."

Sam bursts out laughing. Lieutenant Rojas just looks absolutely smitten. Christ. What is it with these young recruits? Rojas doesn't look old enough to date but she's been completely taken in by the O'Neill charm. I know, I know--I can't really blame her for that. And I like Rojas. She's only been assigned to SG-7 for a little over a month but she's been a good addition to the team. She's bright, dedicated... and she'd better just keep away from Jack.

"Leave it to the two of you to lower the tone," Janet says dryly.

"What are you implying?" Jack challenges.

"I'm not implying anything, sir. I'm saying flat out that... ."

"Jack."

"Excuse me?" Janet says. She's never been quite up to Jack's channel surfing approach to conversation.

"Off duty. Jack," he explains. He points to her. "Janet."

"Oh, look. Isn't he just precious when he's communicating?" Tim says. Jack tosses a throw pillow from the couch at him.

"Is it just me?" Jack asks Colonel Andrews, seated at the other end of the couch. "Am I the only commander who gets absolutely no respect from the scientists?"

"You have to give it to get it," I interject before Andrews can answer.

"No, I don't. I'm a colonel."

"Civilian," I shoot back, waving a hand between me and Tim. "And that's not spelled G-E-E-K."

"Is he this insubordinate with you?" Jack asks Andrews.

"Insubordinate? Dr. Jackson? I can't say that I've ever noticed any insubordination," Andrews responds with a surprised tone. Damn, he's good. Not even Teal'c could've said that with a straighter face.

"I don't have to put up with this," Jack says, shooting Andrews a disgusted look. "I could retire."

"Again?" Teal'c asks.

"Hey, Michael Jordan retired more than once," Jack says.

"You are not Michael Jordan," Teal'c says in that tone. The one where you don't know if he's simply stated a fact... or insulted you. Jack just stares at him, obviously not certain himself as to Teal'c's intent.

"I suppose you can't wait to retire and plant your as... self on the dock with nothing but a pole and a bucket of bait to worry about," Sam says.

"You know it," Jack says.

Er... what? Okay--so I'd kind of had a 'pole' in mind for Jack's retirement. But Minnesota? Does he think I'm going to spend my waning years freezing my ass off and donating hemoglobin to the mosquitoes on a regular basis?

"Kind of isolated up there, isn't it?" Tim asks.

"Has everything a man could need or want," Jack says defiantly. "A cabin with no distractions: no phone, no electricity, no neighbors. A lake to sit beside, maybe fish in. Peace and quiet and fresh air. And maybe a dog."

I'm allergic to dogs. So... maybe he thinks I won't be with him at all. Well, it's not like we've ever discussed the future in any specific way. And retirement is still a little ways off, even for Jack. So maybe he figures by then... . What? That we'll have gone our separate ways? One of us will be dead? One of us--me--will blindly follow Colonel Jack wherever he may lead? Like since when has that ever happened?

Jack catches sight of my face and a puzzled frown clouds his features.

"Jack, I don't want to argue about this. Not now."

"We're not arguing," Jack protests as he wanders the living room picking up trash. "We're discussing."

"We're not discussing either," I snap, grabbing a couple of empties.

"For chrissakes, Daniel. I didn't mean to... ."

"Ignore my opinion?"

"Don't put words in my mouth," Jack says. Well, if I don't... . "I just forgot you weren't Sara."

Of all the stupid... .

"Well, news flash--I'm not!" I say. "For one thing, I have a much smaller cup size."

"God damn it, Daniel!" Jack stalks across the room, biting back his anger. "What I meant was that my retirement has always been planned. Sara and I were going to chuck the suburban life and live among the loons."

"You don't need to go to Minnesota to find the loon," I say.

"And even after the divorce," Jack says tightly, pretending to ignore the insult. "The only difference was that I would be going alone. I just hadn't thought about the fact that things are different now. That I might have to rethink my plans. I was being stupid, okay?"

"Good to know some things never change."

Jack just stares at me, his expression guarded. God, why do I do this? When I get angry, really angry, I go one of two ways. I either shut down completely, which pisses Jack off worse than a gaggle of Goa'uld, or my mouth disconnects from my conscience and all hell breaks loose.

I wrestle with my anger for a moment... because getting angry is okay but indulging in vicious personal attacks isn't. I'm just opening my mouth to make some kind of apologetic grunt when Jack closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Okay," Jack says. "Hey, Daniel, it's okay. We do this shit all the time."

"I know. But there's more at stake now. Okay, maybe it's not the fate of the world or anything, but it's us," I say, looking at him. "And I've screwed up before. I have a lousy temper... ."

"I kind of like you pissy," Jack says, dismissing the insults with a shrug.

"Yeah, well, there's pissy and then there's... me." I shrug. "Maybe it's PMS."

"Now that you do have in common with Sara," Jack says with a snort.

"Bite me, flyboy."

"Not right now," Jack says. He sits on the couch and gestures for me to join him. "Tell me what it is that you have against Minnesota."

"Nothing... really. It's beautiful. And the people seem very nice. Of course, I only have you and your parents to go by and that's hardly a representative sample."

"Daniel... ."

"I hate the cold, Jack. I hate it. I'd be miserable. And what are you planning to do up there anyway?"

"Fishing."

"And in the winter?"

"Ice fishing?" Jack says hesitantly. He doesn't like freezing his balls off any more than I do.

"Jack... ."

"Okay... so not all the time. Surely we can work something out?"

"I... sure, I guess so."

"What do you want to do?" Jack asks.

"To be honest I've never thought much about retirement."

"Give it a few years." Jack stops and stares at me, his eyes traveling from top to bottom. And lingering on the bottom. "Christ," he sighs. "Okay, give it ten... maybe fifteen years. You might, just might, be feeling the need to slow down by then."

"I'll just drink more coffee."

"How could you possibly drink more?" Jack asks. He drops his hand in my lap, cupping my groin. "And Daniel--smaller cup size?"

I just groan because my body reacts instantly and predictably to the stimulus. Fortunately Jack doesn't need any prompting. He massages me, leaning over to kiss me slow and deep and... .

"Oops, almost forgot," Jack says, pulling away suddenly.

"Hey!" I protest.

"Patience, grasshopper," Jack calls from down the hall. I can hear him messing around in the study doing God knows what except that I know it isn't me.

"You want your present, don't you?" he asks when he returns. Well, that was a stupid question.

"Present?" I ask, gesturing for him to hand it over. He tosses me a flat, floppy package about the width and length of a sheet of paper.

"You'll never guess," Jack says proudly, dropping back down on the couch next to me. I wiggle the package carefully, listening to the paper crinkle. I shrug, admitting defeat, and tear it open.

"Um... it's the Journal of Irreproducible Results," I say somewhat baffled. Yes, okay, I have gotten a great deal of entertainment out of the magazine in the past but... .

"Check out the article on page 54," Jack prods. Giving him a suspicious stare I thumb through the journal to page 54.

"Oh! Wh... how?" I babble. "That's... that's... I wrote that."

"Yep," Jack says proudly.

I stare at the page. The bold face title says "Slithering out of Eden: The Serpent and Societal Development." I wrote it as a joke about a year ago. Well, kind of a joke. I was thwarted and frustrated... and not by Jack for once. No, it was the inability to share knowledge with anyone other than a very select few scientists. I vented my anger by writing a mock article tracing the Goa'uld infiltration of human society and their influence on every part of human culture starting with Eve. I even presented 'evidence' that Montgomery Burns is a Goa'uld. And Jesus was a Tok'ra.

"Oh... but, you can't... ."

"Don't worry," Jack says. "I 'sanitized' it... with a little help from McGill."

"I don't know what to say." I skim through the article. It is my rant just, as Jack said, void of any classified information. There's no mention of stargates and the Goa'uld are simply referred to as snakes.

"Well, I know it bothers you that you can't ever tell anyone about what you learn. And yeah--it's in a wacko magazine but... ." Jack's voice trails off. He looks at me, uncertain. "Um... for the first time in like five years--you're published. Ta da?"

I toss the magazine aside, laughing helplessly, and climb onto Jack's lap, straddling him.

"Does this mean you like it?" Jack asks when I stop sucking his tongue long enough for him to speak.

"This means that has to be the most original present anyone has ever given me."

"Yeah?" Jack says, looking pleased with himself. "That's good, right?"

"Let me show you just how good."

~~**~~

"Carter?"

"Potential mineral lodes. That way," Sam says with a jerk of the head.

"Daniel... ."

"Ruins."

"That way," Tim adds, pointing in the opposite direction from Sam.

"Right. Teal'c, you stick with Carter. You, too, Wilson. I've got the fairytale twins," Jack says disparagingly. Jack gives Colonel Andrews a questioning look.

"I'm with you," Andrews tells Jack. "Rojas--hold down the fort."

"Yes, sir."

"Keep in touch, people," Jack calls out, giving Sam and Teal'c a wave.

It's not long before Tim has Colonel Andrews engrossed in a discussion on what we've speculated about the culture that built these ruins. Yes, I said engrossed. Andrews was a history major as an undergrad. It's not archaeology, but close enough. He genuinely enjoys hearing about ancient cultures. He's also polite, intelligent, easy going... he ought to be the perfect C.O. for me.

Right. So why am I so happy to have Jack here? I mean--given that there won't be any sex involved?

"Daniel," Jack says in an amused tone, strolling along at my side.

"What?"

"You're bouncing."

"I don't bounce."

"You're happier than a pig in shit," Jack teases.

"I... uh, well... ."

"I just have to know--is it me? Or the broken down ruins?"

"There's a difference?" I ask innocently.

Jack just scowls as I speed my pace to catch up to Tim and Andrews. No more than ten minutes later and we arrive at the site. Andrews wanders off in Jack's direction, engaging him in colonel talk. Tim and I are left to ourselves.

"So?" I ask as I unpack the camcorder. "Who is it?"

"Who's who?"

"The who you wanted to invite to the party," I say, knowing full well he knew which 'who' I was referring to. I've only been asking him every damn day since he mentioned it.

"I don't kiss and tell," Tim says lightly.

"You so do," I argue. To be fair, Tim doesn't name names, but he's never been shy about giving me the play by play.

"You notice that new guy in BioChem?" Tim asks.

"Er... yeah?"

How could I not notice? The guy is 6'5 and built. I may be in love with Jack and find him the sexiest thing this side of the Milky Way, but you can't help but notice when something that... that... woof walks by.

"Richards?" I say.

"Rogers," Tim corrects.

"Right. Rogers." Wow. Tim's obviously taken the Air Force motto to heart and aimed high.

"Well," Tim says, leaning in close, a smug smile on his face as he draws out the moment. "It's not him."

"Bastard," I spit.

"Boys, play nice," Jack calls from behind us. "Otherwise I'll have to separate you."

"He's still jealous?" Tim says.

"Who? Jack?" I ask, glancing behind me. Jack just gives me that insufferable grin of his and returns to his conversation with Andrews. "Jack's not jealous."

"He was jealous even when he didn't know what he was jealous about," Tim disputes.

"I'm the one who's jealous," I admit.

"You? Why?" Tim asks.

"Uh... partly gay colonel there?" I point out, dropping my voice to a whisper.

"Oh, please. I don't know about the SOB's past, but he's been completely gay as long as I've known him. He couldn't be any gayer if he put on ruby slippers and sang 'Somewhere over the Rainbow'."

"That is such a cliché."

"I rest my case," Tim says. "What makes you think he's not completely gay anyway? Just because he won't tell anyone about it?"

"No, it's not that. And he did tell someone: his parents."

"He did?" Tim asks, looking at me incredulously. He turns his head to give Jack a reluctantly admiring glance. "Damn. That took some balls."

"It did, didn't it?"

"You really have to ask?"

"No, not really," I admit.

And that's what I have to focus on, isn't it? What I need to remember. Not what I fear in my weakest moments may happen, but what has happened. The amazing and still slightly unbelievable relationship that we've managed to build. Not without some cursing and yelling and the occasional moment of mortal embarrassment, but it would hardly be us otherwise.

By the time we head back to camp, Rojas, with a little help from Teal'c, has everything pretty well set up. Funny how a few two-man tents in a circle around a steadily crackling campfire can give me a sense of home.

Sam and Captain Wilson are bringing each other to mutual orgasms over a bunch of soil samples. And trying to share the excitement with anyone who'll listen.

"So how was school today?" Jack asks, tossing Sam an MRE.

"Good, sir," Sam says with a tolerant smile. "We found indications of fairly high grade naquada."

"Oh, yeah?" Jack says, immediately interested. Finding ways to fight the Goa'uld is his job, his responsibility. And naquada potentially means a way of fighting the Goa'uld.

"We'd really like to do a more intensive survey tomorrow," Wilson says. "I suspect, and Major Carter agrees, that there may well be good sized vein of the stuff in the area."

"How much more manpower do you need?" Jack asks.

"Another hand... or two would be helpful," Sam admits. Jack turns to look at me. I'm so screwed. And not in the way that makes me lose all motor control and my vocal cords spasm.

"Teal'c, are you sure you've never seen this language?" I ask, aware that I sound a little too desperate.

"I am sorry, Daniel Jackson, but no. I have not encountered that particular writing before," Teal'c says.

"We're screwed," Tim mutters.

This is what I was saying.

"Daniel?" Jack prompts.

"We need at least a couple of hours in the morning to finish recording all the structures," I say, surrendering as gracefully as possible. The writing, what little there is, is truly alien. Neither Tim nor I have a clue as to what it might say. We could spend years here trying to figure it out. We don't have years. So we'll record it and take it back for study.

"So can anyone explain to me why we have a settlement here, and unmined naquada there?" Jack continues. "Why would the Goa'uld bring slaves and then not use them?"

"We don't know that they were slaves. We don't know that the Goa'uld brought them here," I say.

"We don't even know if they were people," Tim adds. "Human, I mean."

"You don't think they were human?" Jack asks me.

"I don't think anything. Yet."

"Could I please just get a straight answer?" Jack asks sharply. Without even looking he throws his arm out and points to Tim. "Don't even think about it."

Tim just smirks happily. He loves keeping Jack just a little off balance.

"Colonel, judging by the size of the ruins, I have to wonder if the population was even large enough to support a full scale mining operation," Captain Wilson offers.

"Good point," Sam says. "Not to mention the fact that naquada may have meant nothing to them."

"If there is any connection to the Goa'uld, then naquada would be important. However, I am aware of other cultures for whom it holds no allure," Teal'c says.

"Sorry I asked," Jack says, making a show of rubbing his forehead. He climbs to his feet and picks up his weapon. "Perimeter check. Andrews--assign the watches."

I'm lost in my thoughts as the sky slowly darkens. I sit and watch Sam, Teal'c, Tim and Wilson chatter while Colonel Andrews sets up the watch rotation. Periodically Sam looks over at me and smiles. No particular reason--that's just Sam. I don't even hear Jack come up behind me when he returns from his check.

"Penny for them," Jack says, dropping down to sit next to me.

"Even on a bad day my thoughts are worth more than that," I say.

"Daniel?" Jack prods when I don't say anything further.

"I'm just... I forgot how much I love working with you guys," I say quietly, gesturing toward the others. I'm... jealous. Jack, Sam and Teal'c are my team. My family. And as much as I like Tim, it hurts to see him enjoy what I can't have.

"I miss it. A lot."

Jack just drops his head, staring at the dirt.

"I'm not... I'm not trying to drag out old arguments," I tell Jack. "I know I can't. But... I want to."

"I know," Jack says softly and with genuine regret. "I'm sorry."

Colonel Andrews heads toward us while across the way Sam and Lieutenant Rojas are climbing into one of the tents.

"Jack," Andrews says with a brisk nod of his head. "Carter and Rojas have second watch. Dr. McGill and Teal'c are sharing a tent and they've got third. Wilson and I are together and we'll take fourth."

Which means... .

"Daniel and me have first watch," Jack says, acknowledging the assignment. I just nod to Andrews and follow Jack as he heads out a short distance from camp. Finding a nice smooth boulder he sits and waits, watching me.

"About... ," I begin.

"Don't you think we miss working with you, too?"

"Maybe. Sometimes." I shrug. "Sam probably does. And Teal'c likes me. You think I'm a pain in the ass."

"You are a pain in the ass," Jack says. I wag my eyebrows and wink at him. Jack sighs, exasperated. "McGill has been a bad influence on you."

"Really? He'll be delighted to hear that."

"Oh, I think he already knows," Jack says. We sit, comfortable in silence for a while. Then Jack shifts restlessly and clears his throat. "When I retire, Daniel, we'll tell them. We'll tell everyone if that's what you want."

"Everyone?" I ask, looking at him.

"Anyone you want," Jack promises.

"Can we tell Kinsey?"

Okay. So it'll never happen. But it's damn tempting.

"Wh... what? Why?" Jack asks, stunned.

"Just to see the look on his face," I explain. "The obsequious, sanctimonious, self-righteous toad."

"You left out hypocritical and ignorant."

"That was implied."

"Rocks and trees. Trees and rocks. Amazing how infinitely similar the galaxy can be." Jack swaggers along, master of all he surveys... and bored titless.

"You obviously didn't see the MALP footage from P7Q."

Tim and I finished up our work at the ruins a couple of hours ago and rejoined the rest of the group. Now Jack and I, like the others, are searching for the ever elusive naquada mother lode in an ancient valley dotted with weirdly out of place rocks.

"Which one was that?" Jack asks.

"Last week. It was the one with a methane atmosphere... ."

"Oh, yeah. Planet of the cow farts," Jack says with an amused look.

"Are you ever serious about anything?"

"Only when I have to be, Daniel," Jack says, patting me on the shoulder. "Only when I have to."

"You could pretend."

"You love my insouciance," Jack says slowly, obviously savoring the word. "You find it intriguing. Alluring. Damn hot."

"Sounds like you're trying to talk me into believing it," I say, giving him a stern look.

"Is it working?"

"No."

"Oh."

Well, you just can't let him get away with this dumb act all the time. Jack's a smart guy but he gets by on charm. And when that doesn't work--intimidation. All of us, including me, have gotten into the habit of letting him slide. Of accepting the façade, at least to a certain degree. He's getting lazy and it's my duty, as his friend as well as his lover, to call him on it periodically.

"Daniel, what are you doing?"

"I'm just going to check out the rocks." I gesture toward a couple of massive boulders leaning against each other.

"Why? And they're erratics."

"What?"

"Erratics: rocks left behind by glaciers," Jack explains. He waves casually at the rock strewn valley around us. "They're all over the place."

"Er... okay. Did you mention that to Sam?"

"Why?"

"Well, a glacial past might be significant."

"How?"

"I don't know."

"Stop that," Jack says. "Besides, Wilson's with her and he's a geologist. If he can't recognize an erratic then the Air Force has let its standards slip farther than I thought."

"Right. Well, I'm going to check out the... erratics."

"They're rocks," Jack says with a touch of exasperation.

"I know. But we're supposed to be surveying for naquada and I'm getting a fairly strong reading from that direction."

Jack just waves a hand at me, giving me permission to examine the... rock. I walk slowly around the massive boulders. They're both roughly about ten feet high, and easily more than twice that in diameter. Their surfaces are marked with parallel furrows. If Jack's right about a glacial history--and I don't doubt that he is--then the cracks and crevasses are probably the scars of their journey in a river of ice. I reach the spot where the two boulders rest against each other. The narrow space between them looks a little... odd.

"Daniel?"

"Jack?"

How does he do that? How does he know when I've gotten curious about something? I didn't make a sound. I haven't so much as flinched. I swear he's got some kind of mental radar that hones in on my thoughts.

"Whatcha doin'?" Jack asks.

"Well, I'm... . Oh."

There's a slight... shimmer. Like an image wavering, flickering just for a second. Somehow, I don't think this is just a rock. I reach out cautiously and put my hand on one of the boulders at the point where it rests against the other... and my hand seems to disappear into the rock. Erratic. Whatever.

"Oh what?" Jack prompts.

"C'mere."

"Why?"

"Jack, just... ." I wave a hand impatiently and step forward... into the rock. A passageway, wide enough for two people to walk side by side, spirals into the heart of the stone. Not surprisingly, Jack follows.

"Well, that's unexpected," Jack says, looking around once we're both inside the boulder.

I grab my radio. "Sam, it's Daniel." A brief burst of static makes me wince before Sam's voice comes through, faint but clear.

"Yeah, Daniel. It's Sam."

"I think you'd better come here."

"Why? What did you find?"

"You really have to see this for yourself."

"Having fun?" I ask dryly.

Sam turns a smile on me. She's beaming, absolutely in her element with naquada and alien technology in her hot little hands. What Jack and I found through that disguised entrance between the rocks was a mine. The entrance chamber of a naquada mine to be exact. With all of its attendant machinery stored neatly in the second chamber... which as far as I can figure out is actually slightly below ground level. Sam is, without a doubt, a very happy camper.

"Not your idea of fun, is it?" she asks.

"That's okay," I say easily. "As long as someone gets something out of the mission." I go back to my current role as Sam's assistant, handing her the necessary instruments and jotting down notes for her.

"Something on your mind, Daniel? You're being awful quiet," Sam asks after a few moments. She turns to follow my gaze across the chamber. To Jack and... .

"I think Lieutenant Rojas has a thing for Jack," I say.

"That?" Sam says, looking back at me. She shrugs. "To be expected, I guess."

"Expected?" Not by me. Not the least bit welcome either.

"Sure," Sam says easily, returning to her investigation of what appears to be some kind of drilling machine. "It's probably as much hero worship as anything. Rojas is young and impressionable. And the colonel... the colonel is mature. Experienced." Sam chuckles. "Saver of the world."

"I guess I can see that."

Well, duh. I don't have any difficulty understanding why Rojas is attracted to Jack. I just want it to stop. She's following him around like a... a puppy over there. To be fair, Jack isn't treating her any differently than he treats anyone else. Which is to say with sarcasm and attitude and nearly incomprehensible mutterings.

"And it doesn't hurt that the colonel is pretty damn hot," Sam adds. She just smiles knowingly at my suddenly clenched jaw. "It'll pass. I don't know Rojas very well, but she seems... ambitious. She won't let an innocent little crush get between her and her career anymore than the colonel would allow her to let it get in the way."

"So you're saying this is normal?"

"Very," Sam says confidently. "For a few weeks Rojas' heart will beat a little faster every time she sees the colonel. Then she'll get over it and, hopefully, move on to find someone more appropriate." Sam hesitates. "Something you really should think about doing, Daniel."

"Er... what?" I gasp. I glance around nervously even though I know no one is close enough to have heard Sam's softly voiced comment.

"I understand how you feel but you really shouldn't let this drag on. You'll only make yourself miserable."

"No, I... I'm fine," I insist. Ugh. I hate having to lie to Sam. Although, what I told her wasn't a lie--I am fine. The lie lies within what I'm not telling her. "Don't worry about me. I'm happy."

Sam stares at me, studying me, apparently puzzled by what she sees.

"You are, aren't you?" she asks. "Happy I mean."

"I am," I say, almost surprised to realize it myself. Huh. I knew Jack made me happy--obviously. No more unrequited longings and more sex than you can shake a dick at. But it's more than that. I'm happier overall. I'm... .

"I'm content."

"So you've already gotten over... ?" She gestures in Jack's direction. "Are you seeing someone?"

"See... ? Um, I... ."

"You are," Sam says. She shakes her head in disgust. "Boy, I'm no good at reading you, am I? I saw the way you look at him and I thought you were still in love with him."

"I'll always love him, Sam." Which is also not a lie.

"All right, kids," Jack's voice calls. "Time to go home and tell Uncle George all about the new toys we found."

"I suspect Uncle George as well as Uncle Sam are going to be happy with this find," Colonel Andrews adds.

"And that's what we live for--keeping the government types happy."

"You're certain this machinery is still in working order?" Hammond asks Sam and Captain Wilson.

"Yes. Well, admittedly we haven't figured out how to turn it on to check but I'm sure it'll work," Sam says. She glances around at the rest of us, her confidence fading a bit at the skeptical looks. "I'm... sure."

Jack just shakes his head with wry amusement. He thinks Sam and I both have tendency to jump to rash and unfounded conclusions. Personally I'm pleading the Fifth on that one. But we've been right often enough that he doesn't protest any more. Much. On a good day.

"And we have no idea why the inhabitants of this planet left a fully operational mine?" Hammond continues.

"Er... no," I say, speaking up to offer my paltry two cents to the debriefing. "We didn't find evidence of any natural disaster or enemy attack in the settlement... but the ruins are just that: ruins. Evidence of anything short of a major event might have been eradicated over time."

"But the mine is intact and it appears to be untouched," Tim adds.

"That's true," I agree. "But then again, the mine is well concealed. If there was some kind of enemy attack, it's possible the mine was left unaffected."

"Not to be a wet blanket," Wilson says cautiously, "but it's also possible the mine is tapped out."

"That's a tad damp," Jack says, even though you know he's considered the worst case scenarios, too.

"We won't know without further follow up, General," Colonel Andrews says.

"Major Carter, Captain Wilson--write it up," Hammond orders. "I doubt we'll have any trouble getting authorization for a return visit."

"Yes, sir," Sam says with a smile.

"That's all, people. You're dismissed."

There's that subtle relaxation that always happens when the official business is completed. Everyone kind of lets out a breath and sits a little more easily.

"Colonel," Hammond continues amiably. "Enjoy your vacation."

"I fully intend to, sir," Jack says, grinning smugly at the 'unfortunates' who will be working next week.

"And you, too, Dr. Jackson," Hammond adds.

"Daniel?" Sam asks.

"Finally convinced him to go fishing with me," Jack says.

"My condolences, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c says immediately. Sam turns away to hide a smile. Everyone else grins openly at Jack's discomfort.

"That was so not necessary," Jack says, getting to his feet. I rise, too, a bit hesitantly, not sure whether I should play the supportive lov... um, friend, or just go with the flow.

"I recommend a ten percent DEET solution," Teal'c continues unfazed. "And mosquito netting."

"Hip waders," Sam suggests sagely.

"Personally, I'd take a good book," Tim tosses out. "War and Peace, perhaps?"

"Thermal socks," Colonel Andrews adds helpfully as Jack grumbles under his breath. "The water's cold up there even in summer."

"Snacks. Lots of snacks," Wilson says. Rojas just stares, thrown by the apparent lack of respect for Jack's rank.

"Most important of all, do not allow O'Neill to persuade you to enter 'Sushi Go-Go'," Teal'c concludes. "They do not, in fact, sell bait."

I watch the scene before me with more than a little trepidation.

Jack and I got up early this morning and caught our flight with moments to spare. One somewhat bumpy ride later we haggled with the clerk at the car rental company. After finally receiving a vehicle Jack considered adequate, we drove here and immediately started packing the car.

Yes. I'm in Minnesota. Again.

"I'm depending on you to make them behave," Betty says, coming over to the kitchen table. She offers to top up my mug with the last couple of ounces of coffee from the pot she made to fill our thermos.

I turn again to stare out the window at Jack and Tom. They're bickering about what gear to pack, how it should be packed in the trunk and who should be packing it. Jack looks over at the window, sees Betty and me, and smirks, thinking he's got the situation under control. Then he snarls when Tom nearly sneaks something past him.

"You're kidding, right?" I ask.

What does she expect? Miracles? I mean, I've come back from the dead before but this... this may be beyond my mortal abilities.

"Is this a test? It is, isn't it? Couldn't I just... I don't know--walk on water instead?"

"Just do your best," she says, sighing reluctantly at her men.

"They're just alike, aren't they?" I say after watching the show a moment longer.

"Yes, Daniel, they are," Betty confirms, handing me the thermos full of steaming coffee.

"They're going to expect me to actually fish, aren't they?"

"I imagine so," Betty agrees.

"If I don't come back, if Jack tells you I got lost in the woods or something, don't believe him."

Betty stares at me, puzzled. Come on. Jack on one side, Tom on the other and poor innocent Daniel in the middle? I knew this was a bad idea.

"It'll be Jack's doing," I continue. "I'm not expecting you to turn him in or anything. Just promise you'll send someone out to give my body a decent burial."

"I suspect you can hold your own against Jack," Betty says with a small smile.

"Face to face--probably. But he's very sneaky."

Betty starts to speak, then hesitates, obviously struggling with something. After a moment she gives a sharp nod of her head.

"If Jack gets out of line, just ask him about his Junior Prom."

I nose around in the back seat. Jack stashed some of the supplies in the back seat and I'm curious to see what he considers necessary for a week of fishing.

"Daniel, what are you doing back there?" Jack asks, trying to catch sight of me in the rear view mirror when he hears me rustling around.

"Nothing, just checking... oh!"

"What?"

"Chocolate," I say happily.

"Leave that alone," Jack says, reaching back blindly with one hand. If Tom weren't with us I'd find something interesting to put within reach... . "Daniel!"

"What?"

"Drop it. Now."

"Why?"

"Those snacks are for vacation."

"So... ? I'm snacking."

"It's not vacation yet," Jack says, smacking at my knee.

"Is too."

"Not. It's... pre-vacation."

"Pre-vacation?" I ask. "What the hell is that?"

"It's the period between non-vacation and vacation," Jack says, sounding like he actually means it.

"You made that up," I accuse. Jack slaps blindly at my legs again. I shove the chocolates back in the bag. "Fine. I don't suppose you packed any pre-vacation snacks?"

"No!"

"When does pre-vacation end?"

"When we get to the cabin. And not a minute before."

"So... . Are we there yet?" I ask. Jack just mutters under his breath.

"Are you two going to be like this the whole time?" Tom asks, obviously bewildered by our conversation.

"No," Jack says at the same moment I say, "Yes."

"God help us," Tom sighs. "It's going to be a long week."

I shuffle out into the living room/dining room/bedroom, stretching and yawning. Tom is seated at the table nursing a cup of coffee.

"Morning, Daniel."

"Mrgmph," I say. Or something along those lines.

"Coffee?" he asks, smiling.

"That would be a rhetorical question with me," I admit, rubbing at my face groggily. Tom heads to the kitchen and I slump into a chair, shivering slightly in the early morning chill.

The cabin Jack rented is... not bad. Spacious even. At the back left is a galley kitchen. The back right is taken up by a bedroom. In between is the bathroom. The front of the building is open. On the left side is a plain table and chairs. On the right, near the fireplace, are an old loveseat and a couple of lumpy easy chairs. And at the front, right under the windows that look out across the porch to the lake, are a couple of twin beds. It's nothing fancy but it has electricity and indoor plumbing. I can work with that.

"Where's Jack?" I ask when Tom returns with a steaming mug.

"Oh, he's been out for an hour already," Tom says. "Jack's dedicated."

"Jack's nuts."

"That, too," Tom agrees amiably. He walks over to the suitcase sitting on one of the twin beds and rummages around until he finds his medicines.

"Sleep well?" I ask.

The whole bed situation caused a little... discomfort last night. Jack and I went into town shortly after we arrived at the cabin to pick up some perishables at the local grocery store. It'd been a long day for both of us and we grabbed some deli sandwiches to take back for supper, planning to make it an early night.

By the time we got back, Tom was resting on one of the twin beds, his suitcase opened on the other. Jack immediately told his dad to quit sleeping in his bed and move his stuff into the bedroom. Tom just continued to lie on the bed, not moving an inch as he told Jack that it was ridiculous for him to take up a bedroom and have the two of us sleeping out here. To say it got a little tense would be an understatement.

"Slept fine," Tom says, rejoining me at the table. He gives me a wry smile. "Like I told Jack--it isn't the chassis that's gone bad, just the engine. And it doesn't care where I sleep."

It didn't really matter either way to me, but I tried to get Jack to give in because it was obvious to me that Tom was uncomfortable with the topic. He was doing his best to be gracious, to be accepting of our relationship, but it wasn't easy for him to send Jack and me off into the bedroom. Where there was only one bed.

Jack, on the other hand, didn't want his dad settling for what he saw as second best accommodations. Tom's less than glowing health simply added to Jack's determination. Jack couldn't, or wouldn't, see that this wasn't something Tom wanted to discuss. I finally settled the issue by announcing that I would be sleeping in the bedroom and one of them was welcome to join me.

Needless to say I was very relieved when it was Jack who snuggled up behind me.

"Hey, sleepy heads," Jack calls, bursting through the door with such a grin on his face I simultaneously fall in love with him all over again... and want to knock the grin right off his face. Jack takes a step back, studies me for a second, and then looks at his dad. "That his first cup?"

"Yep."

"He won't be civilized for while yet." Jack tosses his jacket on the unused bed. "Breakfast then?"

"Quit fussing," I mutter when Jack ruffles my hair on the way to the kitchen.

"Someone has to take care of you," Jack says, blithely ignoring me.

"Don't look at me," Tom says in response to my look of appeal. "If he's fussing over you then he's not fussing over me."

"Ah. So now I know the real reason I was invited on this little expedition," I say dryly.

"That and your sunny morning disposition," Jack calls from the kitchen.

"Do you like to fish, Daniel?" Tom asks.

"Um... to be honest, I'm not crazy about the actual fish," I admit, propping my pole between my legs. And sigh as my 'pole' reacts slightly. Jack's right. I have been... excitable lately. "What I mean is catching fish isn't that important. I just like fishing."

Tom lets out an amused snort.

"What?" I ask.

"I understand the attraction now," Tom says to Jack.

"Told you he was a smart boy," Jack says with a grin as he casts his line.

"What?" I demand.

"You get it," Jack explains.

Not.

"The all important concept which is that it's not about the fish. It's about the fish-ing."

"It's kind of a Zen thing."

"Exactly," Jack agrees.

We all settle in, lined up across the end of the dock, the cooler behind us, the lake in front. Seated between Jack and me, Tom starts regaling me with embarrassing stories from Jack's childhood. In return, I fill him in on what his number one son has been up to now that he's old enough to know better.

"Jack actually told a... foreign military leader to 'bite me'," I relate.

"He was asking for it," Jack mutters, not entirely happy to see the two of us bonding over stupid Jack stories.

"You can dress him up but you can't take him anywhere," Tom says, shaking his head dolefully.

"Not without causing an international incident," I agree. "Are you aware of Jack's take on foreign policy?"

"Shoot first and ask questions later?"

"That's the one," I say, nodding. "We recently had to work with a Russian."

"No," Tom protests, glancing at Jack. "Jack's not fond of the Russians."

"So I've noticed. Just imagine how he felt about a Russian scientist," I continue. Tom's eyes widen and Jack shoots me a disgusted look.

"A scientist? Dare I ask what happened?" Tom asks.

"She walked all over him."

Tom roars with laughter while Jack sulks.

"But what really keeps the troops entertained is Jack at launch time. He can't resist the lure of the UAV," I tell Tom. No matter the time--if they're shooting off a UAV, Jack wants to see it.

"UAV?"

"It's kind of a remote controlled plane used for reconnaissance," I explain. "Jack loves watching it explode off the pad and through... the sky."

"It's cool," Jack says defensively.

And highly Freudian. Come on: Missile. Annulus. Could it be any more obvious?

"Daniel."

"Just a minute, Jack," I say, impatiently waving Jack away like an annoying gnat and keeping my attention firmly on Tom. "Okay--I've fulfilled my end of the bargain and given you some dirt. Now I want to know what happened when Jack got caught... ?"

"Daniel!"

"What?" I yell back, annoyed that Jack's interrupting my fun.

"You caught a fish."

I look down to see the pole beginning to strain as the tension on the line grows.

"Well, fuck."

I slowly and deliberately undress, fold my clothes and set them on top on the suitcase. Then I crawl onto the bed and up over Jack.

"Something on your mind?" Jack asks mildly.

"Maybe," I say, leaning down to lick the hollow at the base of his neck.

"Dad," Jack protests.

"Already assumes we're doing something in here," I point out.

"I suppose," he says reluctantly.

"What would it take to convince you?" I ask, pulling back to bite his nipple.

"Oh... that," he groans.

"You're so damn easy," I chuckle, rising up so that I can kiss him. If you can call the slow but thorough exploration I give his mouth just a kiss.

"All your fault," Jack mutters against my lips. "I was headed for a nice, boring, sexless older middle age until you came along."

"So you should be thanking me then," I suggest.

"Got something in mind?"

"Well, if you're not busy with anything else... ."

Jack lunges up and flips me to my back, pinning my hands at my sides.

"I know what you want," Jack says, his eyes dark. I think he probably does.

"Aw jesus, Jack," I groan as Jack goes straight for his objective and takes me into his mouth. Oh, what the hell--foreplay is overrated.

"Ya know, it's funny," Jack says casually in between running his tongue around my balls.

"Huh?"

"Six months ago this isn't something I would've guessed I'd like," Jack says. "Sucking another guy's cock, I mean."

I choke back some garbled exclamation as he rubs his tongue roughly across the head of my cock and takes me in as deep as he can.

"But I do," Jack says, ignoring my helpless gurgling. "I really do."

"Good ugh Jack fuck ohm'god," I groan because I can tell he really does. Which is really fortunate because I really like having it done. "JackfuckJack--please."

"Quiet... or I'll have to stop."

I make an attempt to free one of my hands so that I can finish myself because there's no way in hell I'm stopping now. Jack just tightens his grip on my wrists.

"Shhh," he breathes inadvertently across my aching cock. Or maybe it was advertently. I wouldn't put it past him right now.

He leans down and swallows me again, sucking hard. Just when I think I can't take any more, he pulls his mouth off with a long, powerful suck and wraps one hand around my cock. He thrusts his tongue into my panting mouth and gives me one sharp tug. I damn near bite through both our tongues trying to stay silent as I surrender to the explosion of sensation.

"Damn that's hot," Jack says, sliding up, rubbing his cock against my exhausted one, using my semen to ease the friction.

"So glad I could entertain you," I pant as he kisses along my jaw.

"You could go right on entertaining me," Jack suggests. He pulls away and lifts to his hands and knees over me.

"Jerk me, just... ," Jack begs, his breath tickling my neck. "God, I love to feel your hands on me."

Again, this is extremely fortunate because I really love to touch Jack. Love to touch him everywhere. I slide my hands across his shoulders, feeling the strong muscles that hold him over me.

"Daniel, that's not exactly where I wanted you to touch me."

"No? Then where?"

"Do I need to draw you a picture?"

I can't help but laugh at the idea. Jack is, shall we say, artistically challenged. I can just imagine his attempt to illustrate: two stick figures with their... twigs sticking out at right angles to their bodies.

"Try moving lower," Jack directs.

I oblige by dragging my fingers to his chest, pushing through his chest hair until I've got his nipples firmly in my grasp.

"Lower," Jack groans in exasperation. Obediently I slide my hands down across his ribs, his belly, which flinches reflexively at my touch, following the arch of his hip bones down to the crease of his groin... and onto the vulnerable flesh of his inner thighs.

"Fucking tease," Jack says with a slight huff of air. He's smiling, though. Because I know what he wants. Yes, he wants it quick and quiet this time, but he likes being eased into it. Teased into it.

"Maybe you need to make your instructions more... explicit," I say, brushing my fingers against his sac, making him shiver. Silently Jack takes my right hand and wraps it around his cock, twining our fingers as he shows me what he wants.

"Explicit enough for you?" Jack asks. Oh, yes. I think that's pretty much impossible to misinterpret.

A moment later, Jack's breath catches in his throat as I increase the pressure and pull hard. Groaning into my mouth he comes, his semen mixing with mine on my chest and stomach.

"You're sleeping on the wet spot," Jack mumbles as he flops to the bed and rolls to his side.

I stare at his back, appalled by his complete insensitivity. I knew chivalry was dead but Jack's buried it six feet under and dancing gleefully on the grave.

"What wet spot? It's all on me," I point out.

"Better wipe it off then," Jack says sleepily.

"I'll wipe it off all right," I mutter. I roll over and spoon up behind him, rubbing my sticky belly across his back.

"Ew, Daniel," Jack laughs. He turns his head and kisses me, still laughing. I wrap my arms around him and snuggle up contentedly.

What the hell. We'll both sleep in the wet spot.

"Daniel?"

I startle, pulling the book from my face and trying to rebalance in the suddenly swaying hammock.

"Beer?" Tom asks.

"Um... yeah. Thanks," I say, shifting around to sit, my legs dangling over the side. Tom hands me the open bottle and sits in a lawn chair he's dragged over here in the shade.

"Have a good... rest?" I ask.

It's not a nap. It's a rest. O'Neill's don't nap. I learned that the first day. Everyday after lunch, after a morning of fishing from the dock, Tom excuses himself to rest. Jack and I spend the afternoon as we please, usually sailing or canoeing or hiking or... rrrresting.

"Can I ask you something about your job? Jack's job?" Tom asks once he's comfortably settled in his chair with a glass of iced tea.

"Oh, uh... ."

"I know you can't say what it is," Tom says with a careless wave of the hand. "It's always been that way with Jack's work." He pauses and stares out into the trees, thinking. "We've always worried about him. We've always known it's a dangerous job he does. I'll tell you something--it doesn't matter whether your child is five or fifty--you always worry."

"I'm sure you do."

"After Charlie, and the divorce, we worried even more," Tom admits. "When he went back to work we figured--how bad could it be? He was in Colorado working on radio telescopes for crying out loud. Then one day we got a message that Jack was MIA. MIA? How does a person go MIA in Colorado?" Tom says incredulously.

"Well... ."

"Some time after that, we were notified that he was injured but safe," Tom continues. "Busted leg, cracked ribs... and frostbite. Jack claimed it was a skiing accident. When I asked him why he'd been listed as MIA over a skiing accident, he said it was a clerical error. Clerical error my aunt Fanny," Tom snorts derisively. "I may have been born at night but it wasn't last night.

"The upshot is that the Air Force doesn't notify us of anything anymore. But when he came home for the anniversary party... we knew he'd been hurt. He couldn't hide it."

"Um... ." Oh for god's sake, Daniel--think of something to say. Give the man some kind of peace.

"Will you just tell me one thing? Honestly?" Tom persists.

"If I can."

"What Jack does--it's dangerous and dangerous on a regular basis, isn't it?"

"Yes." What can I say? Tom's not stupid anymore than Jack is. "Yes, it can be very dangerous. But Jack's good at his job. He gets himself, and us, home alive. A little worse for wear sometimes, but alive."

"Is it worth it?"

"Ah... ."

Is it worth it? Worth the price in time and money and... and lives? 'Dr. Jackson' has no problem saying yes, it's that important. The most important job there is. And worth any cost. 'Daniel' has a little trouble with that cost. Actually, Daniel has a lot of trouble with the potential personal devastation of losing Jack.

"Yes," I say quietly. Tom just watches me. "Ultimately, yes--it's worth the risk. We've all made that choice. Jack could retire. Our teammates... well, there are other things they could do. They don't have to be there either. But they've all made the decision that it's worth it."

"And you?"

"Yes."

Initially, my goal was to find Sha're and that was without a doubt worth any risk to me. But it didn't take long for me to be convinced of the greater value of making our place in a surprisingly crowded and chaotic galaxy.

"You'll see," I say. "One day, maybe not too far off, the work we do will be made public. You'll know then and I think you'll agree."

"I look forward to that," Tom says, willing to accept my assessment, at least for now.

"Jack will be a hero. An international hero," I add truthfully.

"Just what we need--Jack with an ego," Tom says dryly, but there's a gleam of pride in his eyes.

"Hey! You guys weren't talking about me, were you?" Jack asks, loping down the cabin steps and across the pine needle covered ground to where we're sitting.

"Of course," Tom says.

"You're just in time, Jack."

"For what?" he asks, eyeing the hammock possessively.

"The high school years," I say with malicious glee. Jack tries to halt his forward movement but it's too late. He tumbles gracelessly into the hammock with me.

"I didn't do anything in high school," Jack insists as he wiggles into a slightly more dignified position in the hammock, directing a threatening glare at his dad. "Nothing. Nada. Zip."

"Really?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Then what's the story with your Junior Prom?"

"Daniel," Jack says in the tone of exaggerated patience he reserves for scientists. "Generally, when one paddles a canoe, one actually puts his oar in the water."

"I'm sure there's a double entendre there," I tell him, letting my hand trail through the water, watching my fingers disappear beneath the reflective surface. "But I can't quite work out what it is."

Jack just turns his head and goggles at me.

"I mean I'm sure there's some sexual twist to 'oar' at the very least."

"Christ," Jack mutters. "We have to get you on some kind of anti-Viagra."

"Why?" I ask. Jack knows as well as I do that there's no such thing as too much sex. "I've had far too many periods of celibacy in my life. And I'm now in a relationship with a very sexy man. It really surprises you that I can't get enough?"

"Sexy?" Jack asks, awkwardly shy and trying not to look too smug.

"You don't see me getting a hard on every time, say, Siler walks by, do you?"

Jack sits frozen, a look of horror on his face.

"Why do you insist on putting these images in my head?" he complains.

"I can't help it. Weird shit just pops in my brain."

"But do you have to share? Like I don't have enough weird shit already cluttering up my mind?"

"If you can love me despite my strange mental detours, then you can love me through anything."

Jack turns on his seat, leans forward and grasps my head firmly between his hands, forcing me to look him straight in the eye.

"Daniel, I have loved you through the Stone Age, the hippy age, addiction, virtual realities, alternate realities, insanity, more addiction, robots, and bugs. Why can you not grasp the fact that I love you? Period."

"You weren't in love with me all that time," I say, nitpicking to avoid the bigger question.

"Maybe not the same kind of love as now, but it was still love," Jack says. "And that only proves my point."

"Um... ."

"Because I have to tell you--in all honesty--not everyone would stick around through all that."

"No," I agree softly. "No one ever has."

Jack frowns, his hands on my face gentling.

"Sha're didn't have a choice," he reminds me.

"No, I... I know that."

But then, she'd only had a year of my admittedly unconventional approach to life. I try not to tie myself in knots wondering about what might have been because the truth is there's no way of knowing what would've happened. As passionate and devoted as Sha're was, who knows how long she could've put up with me?

"Sarah?" Jack asks, naming the only other serious relationship he knows about.

"I didn't behave," I say with a smile that doesn't fool even me. Sarah wasn't a bad person, or even a bad girlfriend... for someone else. Sarah just had her goals and she intended to meet them. Professionally suicidal boyfriends just didn't fit into the plan.

"Behave?"

"I didn't follow the rules."

"Her rules," Jack says, understanding. "That's what all the fuss about retiring was, wasn't it? You thought I was making the rules. My way or the highway."

See? This is what drives me absolutely insane. Jack spends ninety percent of his time playing dumb and oblivious and then says something so deeply understanding that I want to knock his block off. And I know better. I know he understands and yet he still takes me by surprise.

"I wasn't, you know," Jack says. "I was just being stupid."

"You're not stupid."

"Insensitive then."

"Um... yeah, actually, you were that."

Jack leans forward and kisses me so gently it makes me ache.

"And you were jumping to conclusions again," he chides.

"Pot."

"Kettle," Jack says with a grin. "Face it, Daniel. Barring Goa'uld invasions and other assorted apocalyptic scenarios, we'll be together forever."

"A fate worse than death."

"And you would know."

Jack slams the trunk shut. His hands linger a moment on the closed lid before he turns toward me.

"So?"

"So?" I ask, leaning back against the car next to him.

"Me. Minnesota. Fishing. Wasn't so bad, right?" Jack asks.

"Not so bad," I agree.

"So then retirement... ?"

"Is still under discussion," I say quickly.

"Can't blame a boy for trying," Jack says with a crooked grin. He turns to look at the cabin and bellows, "Dad!"

"Keep your shorts on," Tom hollers back from inside where he's taking a last look around to make sure we've haven't forgotten anything.

"He always does this," Jack mutters, checking his watch.

"Well, if you don't want to keep your shorts on, I wouldn't object," I say.

"You know--I'm starting to get the idea that you only want me for my body," Jack says, shaking his head at me. I hesitate, wondering if there's genuine concern behind the tease. Jack just smiles. "I'm not complaining. At my age I'd given up on being wanted purely as an object of lust."

"The body's definitely worthy of lust," I admit, running my fingers lightly down his chest. "But it wouldn't be nearly so appealing if it held the personality of someone like... ."

"Stop," Jack says, pressing his index finger against my lips. "Just... don't. You'll say something like Maybourne... or Nem or something like that and just gross me out permanently."

"Fine. See if I ever pay you a compliment again."

"Telling me I'm better than Maybourne isn't a compliment. It's a given," Jack argues.

"Okay, how about this--you're the sexiest thing to ever come out of the state of Minnesota. You make me laugh. You challenge me on a daily basis... not always intentionally, granted, but it keeps me on my toes. You give me a sense of... home."

Jack's eyes widen slightly but before he can respond I jump as a hand slaps me on the back.

"Time's a wastin', boys," Tom says as he passes behind me making a beeline for the car door.

"Yes, sir," Jack says with a rueful grin. He shakes his head and mouths, "I love you, too."

"Enough to tell me about the Junior Prom?" I can't resist asking.

"Not even close," Jack says firmly.

Back to Eos' Home