"Ah-ooooooogah! Ah-oooooooogah! Dive Sven, dive!"
"I swear, Jack, if that duck ends up back where it was a minute ago, I'm going to rip your squeaker out!"
"Why would I blame the duck? You're driving." Careful not to splash water over the edge of the tub, Daniel twisted far enough around to see Jack's face, raising both brows. "And who the hell is Sven?"
"Who do think? There's only the three of us in here."
"You named a rubber duck Sven? Granted, human beings have a propensity for naming inanimate objects," he continued before Jack could answer, "but I fail to see the Scandinavian connection to mmmph!"
Jack's mouth over his -- heated, wet suction, probing tongue -- made talking difficult. Made thinking difficult. Daniel surrendered to the moment. Writhed as Jack's hands - sans duck - slid down between his legs, the oil in the bathwater making them slick, their movements suggestive. Already half erect - in spite of the duck; hopefully in spite of the duck -- his cock responded to that teasing touch by filling out in record time.
God, my ears are ringing.
Wait a minute...
He'd have had the machine get it but they weren't in his tub so he let Jack's lower lip pull free with just a little touch of teeth. And a scrape of his thumbnail over one sensitive nipple. And a little hitch of his ass against Jack's groin.
Grinning, he settled back against the other man's chest, stroking his hands down the long legs wrapped around the outside of his own. "Answer the phone, Jack."
"Bastard." The word huffed out against the back of his head then Jack's arm snaked over the side of the tub to the phone resting on a towel on the end of the vanity. "O'Neill. Yes."
Daniel felt him tense and slid forward, knees folded high so he could turn all the way around. Jack's brows were pulled in and his mouth pressed into a thin line as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone.
"Is he all right?"
"Who?" Daniel mouthed.
Jack shook his head. "We'll be right there." Tossing the phone back onto the towel, he stood and stepped out onto the matt. "That was the hospital," he said as Daniel followed him out of the tub. "General Hammond's been in an accident. He's fine," he added quickly, anticipating the unspoken question. "But his car isn't. We need to go pick him up."
"Of course." Tossing Jack a bath towel, Daniel began to rub himself dry. "And they called you because...?"
"My number was in the general's wallet."
"In case of trouble call Colonel Jack O'Neill?"
"Something like that." Tossing his wet towel in the general direction of the hamper, Jack frowned. "What?"
Daniel, who'd been thinking that pretty much the whole damned world had that note in their wallet, only smiled. "Nothing."
Something of the thought must have shown on his face though because Jack muttered, "Sap," and slapped his ass as he passed.
Laying in one of the cubicles just off emergency, wearing a white t-shirt, a pair of red velvet pants with suspenders and black socks, General Hammond sported a huge purple and green bruise along one side of his face as well as a tensor bandage covering his right arm from wrist to elbow.
"You look like shit, sir."
"Thank you, Colonel. You could sound less cheerful about it."
Wait a minute; red velvet pants? Brows pulled in, Daniel walked over to the chair by the side of the bed and stared down at the red velvet coat trimmed with white fur, the red and white hat, and the pile of white fluff that was either wig and beard or the ugliest cat he'd ever seen.
"I was playing Santa at a party my granddaughters were attending, Dr. Jackson."
Daniel opened his mouth. Closed it again, and looked to Jack for help.
"I, personally, am glad to hear it, sir. Because I shudder to think of another explanation for these." Bending, Jack picked up one of the big black boots tucked under the bed. Under the hospital's fluorescent lights, the cheap vinyl gleamed almost obscenely bright. "I bet you were a right jolly old elf."
"You could still end up cleaning latrines in Alaska, Colonel. I'd say you were on my naughty list but I'm trying very hard not to go there."
"Thank you, sir." Jack sounded sincerely grateful.
"I'm glad you're all right, sir."
"Thank you for coming, Jack."
"You know I'm here for you."
Daniel translated the guy-speak as he moved closer to the bed. God forbid any of them should actually say what they were feeling. Just one more thing to complete the set. "The nurse said you could go as soon as the doctor signs out you. But we could call Janet..."
"For what?" Hammond snorted. "I'm fine."
And there it was. Jack caught his eye, looked quickly away, and they both hid a smile as the general continued.
"Besides, Dr. Fraiser gets little enough time off for Christmas as it is. Let's not bother her about a few bruises."
Both men moved to take an elbow as the general sat up.
"What part of fine are you two having trouble understanding?"
"General Hammond?" The nurse broke in before either of them could answer, pushing in clipboard first past the curtain. "You're clear to go. These," she handed him a small pill bottle, "will help you sleep tonight. If the pain's still bad tomorrow, you should see your own doctor. Are these gentlemen driving you home?"
"Are they staying with you? Because you shouldn't be alone and..."
A raised hand cut her off. Daniel was impressed. It must be a general thing because he'd never been able to stop a nurse in full flow and lord knew he spent enough time in the infirmary to get plenty of practice.
"My daughter and my granddaughters live with me. I'll be well taken care of."
"Good." She smiled absently at all three of them, turned on one heel and headed back out into the chaos of the ER.
As the general reached for his big red coat, Jack shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea, sir. There's a number of kids in the waiting room and seeing Santa injured..."
"An excellent point, Colonel." General Hammond was smiling fondly and Daniel rearranged his own features before they could mirror the general's expression. Trust Jack to think of the kids. "What do you suggest?"
"You wear my jacket." He shrugged out of it as he spoke. "And we'll wrap yours and the rest of the stuff up in Daniel's."
"Hat, beard... stuff. Then we flank you and escort you out, hoping no one notices the pants and boots."
"It's not a bad plan, Colonel, except that leaves both you and Dr. Jackson without jackets. It's a cold night."
"We're both in sweaters, General." Daniel spread his jacket out on the gurney and piled the rest of the Santa suit in the middle of it. "We'll manage."
"Thank you for not mentioning you're both considerably younger," the general grunted pulling on his second boot. He swayed a little as he straightened, snapping out a firm, "I'm fine!" before either man could move closer. "Just get me home."
A fine dusting of snow covered both the hospital parking lot and Daniel's Land Rover. Big fluffy flakes continued to fall in a steady, no nonsense pattern that suggested it was planning on staying around for a while. Daniel opened the doors and, as Jack settled the General in the front seat, impulsively tipped his head back and stuck out his tongue, catching one of the falling flakes.
When he straightened, General Hammond was watching him over Jack's shoulder and he felt his face flush. He knew that expression although it was the sort of indulgent look he usually saw the general directing it at one or both of his granddaughters. Crap. He thinks I'm cute. So much for five years of building up my macho image.
Fortunately, indulgent was replaced almost immediately by irritation. "Damn it, Colonel, I can do up my own seat belt! Stop fussing!"
Grinning, Daniel tossed an unrepentant Jack the Santa gear and shrugged into his jacket as he walked around to the driver's door. The general didn't know the half of it; no one did mother-hen quite like Jack. Of course, no one was a bigger baby when he was sick either so Daniel supposed it evened out.
"This is a very nice vehicle, Dr. Jackson." The general shifted as they pulled out of the parking lot, red velvet pants shushing against the leather upholstery. "Seat heaters?"
"Front and back," Jack announced before Daniel could answer. "If you don't mind my asking, sir, what happened?"
"It was my daughter's damned mini-van; no traction, no pick up, no guts. I caught some ice turning off Palmer Park, and started to spin. Next thing I know, I'm on my side wrapped around a telephone pole. Thank God the girls are spending the night with one of their friends from the party or I'd have been driving them home. Turn left here, Dr. Jackson. I'll tell you though, one more ho ho ho or crack about missing reindeer from the emergency response team and they were going to find themselves dealing with SG-3."
"Because nothing says Christmas like heavily armed Marines."
"For the folks have everything but a sense of humour," the general agreed calmly. "Next right and you'll know the way from there."
They talked about the general's granddaughters for the rest of the drive, about how much they were looking forward to Christmas, about the price of Harry Potter Lego, about how much relative damage could be done by a determined ten year old with a glow in the dark light saber...
"And didn't bikes used to come built?" the general demanded as Daniel turned into his driveway, the all-wheel-drive on the Rover easily dealing with the ridge of snow thrown up by the plow. "I came this close..." He lifted his good arm, forefinger and thumb held barely apart. "...to calling Sergeant Siler last night. It's three days until Christmas, there's still bike parts all over the basement and I'm positive the instructions were translated from the Japanese by way of Swahili."
"Then you should've called Daniel, sir. He actually made sense of the instructions that came with my DVD player so that Carter could hook it up."
"He carried the box in from the truck. It's all about teamwork, sir." Jack jumped out of the backseat and yanked the general's door open with a flourish. Snow melting in his hair, he reached in to undo the seat belt, visibly thought better of it, and headed for the house, declaring "I'll just let Ely know you're home."
General Hammond thumbed the release himself and muttered, "Mother-hen."
As the belt retracted, the general reached across the seat with his good hand and lightly squeezed Daniel's shoulder. "I'm glad you two are spending the holidays together, son. This time of the year is still hard on Jack and well, no one should be alone at Christmas. We'll see you both at Dr. Fraiser's on Boxing Day?"
"Wouldn't miss it, sir." Boxing Day was family day - Janet, Cassie, Sam, Teal'c, General Hammond and the girls, Jacob and Selmac if they could make it. Counting his family on Abydos, he'd never been less alone. It was a nice feeling. A little overwhelming at times but on the whole, nice.
And then Jack was back with Ely and getting the general into the house turned into a bit of a production number because it turned out the big vinyl boots had no traction at all but eventually it was just him and Jack in the Rover, heading home.
"It's colder than Kinsey's heart out there," Jack announced, cranking the heat up. "And General Hammond's still got my jacket so I guess you'll be driving right up the steps and into the house."
Daniel jerked his head toward the back seat. "He left the rest of the Santa suit."
"You want me to put it on?"
"I guess..." As Daniel stopped at a red light, Jack unbuckled his seatbelt, knelt up on the seat, and leaned over into the back, the position pulling his jeans tight over his ass.
Had they been alone at the intersection, Daniel would have surrendered to his baser nature and grabbed the cheek being flaunted so provocatively -- and practically in his face -- but, unfortunately, there were other cars with unknown occupants and this was an air force town so...
Jack wriggled a bit and Daniel tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Oblivious bastard!
"Got it!" As the light changed, Jack dropped back into his seat with a lapful of red velvet.
By the next light, he was in the jacket and fighting to settle the wig and beard.
"Because you lose forty percent of body-heat through your head?" Daniel asked.
"That too. But mostly because it was there." Wig and beard finally in place, he put on the hat, turned and grinned. "What do you think?"
I think I'm going to burn in Hell. And not a Club Med kind of Hell like Netu. The special kind of Hell set aside for people who suddenly want to 'do' Santa.
"The light's green."
Jack amused himself the rest of the way home by Ho Ho Ho-ing at passing cars and by the time he pulling into Jack's driveway Daniel was so hard he could hardly think straight. He set the parking brake, turned off the engine, and followed Jack - now singing Santa Claus is Coming to Town -- into the house.
The door barely shut behind him, he grabbed two handfuls of red velvet and slammed Jack up against it, closing his mouth over an off-key "...knows if you've been sleeping." and rather a lot of polyester moustache. He worked around them both. With Jack's mouth already open he thrust his tongue inside - plunging, stroking, teasing, sucking Jack's tongue in turn.
A little lightheaded when he finally pulled away, he fought to catch his breath as Jack raised a trembling hand toward his head and gasped, "Just let me get rid of this..."
"Leave it on," Daniel growled and dropped to the floor.
Without any padding, the Santa coat reached almost to Jack's knees. Daniel ran his hands up Jack's thighs, watching them disappear under the scarlet fabric. He ran them a little higher, felt hard heat straining against denim, and licked his lips. Flipping the edge of the coat out, he ducked head and shoulders underneath.
It was dark and warm and getting warmer as he yanked open button and zipper, shoving jeans and briefs down together. Then he bunched the coat up until he emerged into the light, Santa's erection dancing in front of his face. He glanced up once, almost came at the sight of red and white and whiskers and cock, let go of the coat with one hand, wrapped it around the base of Santa's cock - Jack's cock - licked once, then took it into his mouth until his lips touched his fist. Hollowing his cheeks, he sucked hard, working his tongue against the underside, maintaining the suction as he slid out and back, skin growing slick from saliva and pre-come.
He heard Jack groan, adjusted his grip and took a little more, keeping the rhythm hard and fast.
Jack's hips - Santa's hips - began to buck out from the door as his hands scrabbled for purchase against the wood. Daniel glanced up over yards of red velvet to see beard and moustache poofing in and out as Santa - Jack - began to pant and the sight threw him over the edge. He moaned around Jack's cock as he came -- still tucked into his pants -- and was rewarded a moment later by a splash of hot liquid filling his mouth. He swallowed and licked and sucked and finally let Jack slide from between his lips, collapsing against a muscular thigh.
Strong fingers tugged at his hair. "I'd have to say that was naughty and nice." Daniel looked up to see Jack had lost the hat, wig, and beard and was smiling down at him, face flushed, hair damp and standing on end. "And just a little kinky."
"Don't be." The smile broadened as he bent to pull up his jeans. "Trust me on this, Danny-boy, you've got nothing to be sorry about."
"Glad to hear it." Adjusting his damp crotch, Daniel crawled through the puddles of melting snow over to the wall and sagged against it. He'd stand up in a minute or two; when he got some strength back.
"It's just... any other kinks I should be on the look out for?"
Why not? I mean, I just blew Santa; what else comes close? He met gleaming brown eyes and shrugged. "Toys...?"
An instant later he was buried under Santa's coat and Jack's footsteps were heading out of the hall and across the house.
"Hey!" He fought his way clear. "Where are you going?"
Jack paused halfway up the stairs, turned and flashed Daniel a smile replete with the promise of dark dreams fulfilled. "I'm going for the duck!"
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