"Welcome back SG-1, your timing is impeccable."
"Thank you, General." Coming to a stop halfway down the ramp, Colonel Jack O'Neill rested both arms on his P-90 and grinned. "I've always prided myself on my tidy timing."
"Impeccable means exact, Jack, not tidy."
The grin twisted as he glared at the man to his left. "I know that, Daniel."
"Really? Then I guess I'm just being deliberately annoying." Dr. Jackson's expressive brows rose above the upper edge of his glasses. "Again."
Jack's lip curled. "Always smart to play to your strengths."
Safely behind the two men, Major Samantha Carter and Teal'c rolled their eyes, the movement so perfectly synchronized General Hammond suspected they'd had a lot of practice over the last two days. It had clearly been one of those missions. Colonel O'Neill and Dr. Jackson had found something fundamental to disagree about, had fortified their positions, and the slightest compromise was now perceived as total surrender.
As he recalled, their famed "If it's not dangerous, why the hell is it pointing that thing at us?" disagreement had lasted a little over a week. By the end of it, he'd been ready to kick them both through an incoming wormhole.
And that just made what he was about to say so much worse. "SG-4 came home about two hours ago with a hitchhiker." He raised a hand to cut off the questions. "Fungus. It's not dangerous as long as long as we keep it contained but Dr. Chou believes it could wreck havoc if it got out. Fortunately, it responded to the fungicides she had on hand. Unfortunately, half a dozen of the fruiting bodies burst before they died, pretty much filling the mountain with spores. SGC is under a minimum eight day quarantine so our botanists can be certain they're all dead."
As expected, while the rest of SG-1 appeared to be considering the broader implications, Colonel O'Neill got directly to the relevant point. "So, we're stuck in the mountain for the next eight days?"
"That is what quarantine means, Colonel."
He yanked off his cap, slapping it against his thigh as though cap or thigh were in some way responsible. "Because of a freakin' mushroom?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Oh, that's just..."
During the pause, Hammond watched Jack's brain catch up to his mouth and remind him he was talking to his CO.
"…great."
"Try to look on the bright side, Colonel, you'll have a chance to catch up on your paperwork."
"Paperwork, Jack?" Daniel's tone was decidedly snide. "You may actually have to waste some time scribbling pointless observations."
"I don't make pointless observations, Daniel."
"Really? Past experience seems to indicate you make nothing but."
Occasionally, usually at times like this, the general wondered how SG-1 ever managed to actually fulfill their mission parameters. Their team dynamics gave the word eccentric new meaning. Luckily for them, the SGC, and, well, the whole damned world, the universe had proven to be equally as unconventional.
"All right, people." He stepped back, giving them room to leave the ramp. "Doctor Fraiser's waiting for you in the infirmary. Debriefing's at 1730."
As the colonel and the archeologist headed down the corridor radiating enough bad mood to clear all personnel from their path, he fell into step beside Major Carter. "How long?"
She understood immediately. "Since about 1400 yesterday, sir."
"And they're still going at it?"
"Those ruins we stayed PSD 779 for? The colonel was significantly unimpressed. I think he had plans for last night."
"DanielJackson was not particularly sympathetic," Teal'c added from the major's other side. "The situation deteriorated rapidly from that point."
A distinctly pissy, "Oh, that's mature, Jack." sounded from somewhere near the elevator.
Hammond sighed. It was going to be a long eight days.
"All right, Colonel, you're done. Zip 'em up and you're free to go."
"Gee, Doc, I'll bet you say…"
An eyebrow raised over a red and puffy eye cut him off cold. Smiling tightly, Dr. Janet Fraiser moved around the curtain to the next bed and the other half of Snippy and Sarcasm. She didn't know what had set them off this time and frankly, she didn't care. She took a moment to admire the view -- because, well, she might be annoyed but she wasn't dead -- then picked a syringe off the med tray. "I'll be giving you an antihistamine shot as well, Daniel. Those spores played hell with my allergies, and I'd like to spare you the experience."
"Maybe you should skip the shot, Doc, and give Daniel a chance to communicate with the spores. Who knows, they could lead him to an exciting new garbage heap."
"I don't know, Jack. One celled organisms seem to be more your level. Maybe you should try talking to them. One celled. One syllable. Jack O'Neill."
Shaking her head, Janet popped the cover off the needle, then swabbed with one hand and stabbed with the other.
"OW!"
"Ha!"
"Colonel O'Neill, you have three seconds to clear out of my infirmary or I'm coming back in there with the rubber gloves. Dr. Jackson, you have another shot."
He opened his mouth -- she could almost hear the sarcastic comment waiting to emerge -- then he closed it again and waited silently. Oh yes, they didn't just keep Dr. Jackson around for his baby blues; the boy had brains.
After Daniel, she moved to Teal'c who was, as usual, perfectly healthy. And polite. All right, more stoic really but it was still a nice change.
"Good luck in the debriefing, Teal'c."
"Thank you, Doctor Fraiser. However, I believe I shall be able to prevent myself from strangling both of them."
As the door closed behind the Jaffa, Janet rounded the last curtain, fixed Sam Carter with a basilisk stare and commanded, "Spill."
Leaning over the bed, pants draped around her thighs, Sam shrugged as well as her position allowed. "Like I told the general, Colonel O'Neill wasn't happy about staying over an extra day so Daniel could study those ruins we found."
"Hon, I don't want to hear what you told the general, I want the real dirt." She popped the top off the last prepared syringe. "I have ways of making you talk."
"Janet…"
"Remember who does all your GYN examines. I don't have to warm the speculum."
"Janet!" Sam dragged her pants up over her hips, buttoned, zipped, and glared. "I am not giving you a play by play of a perfectly innocent albeit annoying argument…" After a quick glance around the empty infirmary, she dropped her volume and leaned close enough to discourage eavesdropping. "…so that you can fit it in to your totally unsupported, prurient theories of a physical relationship between Colonel O'Neill and Daniel."
Janet grinned. Sam's denial had nothing to do with her wanting either man -- she was long over the whole Jack thing and Daniel was like a much loved younger brother -- it was just that as a scientist she wanted empirical data. Medicine, however, was as much intuition as training and Janet's intuition said the boys were definitely doing it every damn chance they got. "Lover's spat, right?"
"Wrong."
Janet waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Sam sighed. "All right, you win. I've got…" She checked her watch. "…probably fifteen minutes until the guys are out of the locker room and then I've got to get cleaned up for the debriefing. I'll tell you everything I can remember but not out here. Your office."
"My office." She'd feel bad about coercing Sam into this but she knew that deep down the other woman was just as curious. "I just had an idea: we're all going to be stuck in here for a while and there's no way two healthy men in love… or in lust," she qualified as Sam started to protest. "…who won't be able to avoid each other's company will be able to keep their hands off each other for eight, no, ten whole days."
"Ten?"
"Yesterday, today, eight days of quarantine. Did General Hammond not mention that although the quarantine started this afternoon, the count starts tomorrow?" Janet opened her office door as Sam shook her head, and indicated that the other woman should enter. With the door safely closed, she grinned triumphantly at her best friend. "We have the perfect chance to settle this one way or the other."
"I am not spending the next eight days spying on the colonel and Daniel!"
"Not spying. Looking out for them. Running interference if need be. If they're going to have a chance at love under these terrible, unjust conditions, they're going to need our help."
"Oh god. You've been reading those gay romances again. You promised me you'd stop."
"I just took a short break from Physiological and Neurological Approaches to Future Olfactory Research."
"Sounds like a page turner," Sam muttered. "Shouldn't you get back to it. Or patients. Or something?"
"No patients. No something. It's not a medical quarantine so when you guys gated back in other than your usual shot, zatted, ribboned, addicted, and/or possessed condition, you blew my last chance to spend it productively." Dropping down behind her desk, Janet leaned forward, caught Sam's gaze with hers and held it. "Now spill. I want details…"
The ruins had been nothing more than ridges under the grass but Daniel had found a midden, yanked off the covering sod, and in the first six inches of dirt found the corroded remains of what had clearly been a Goa'uld ribbon device. Colonel O'Neill, having secured the perimeter against a few shrubs and a bird he insisted against all opposition was a grouse, had been perfectly happy to allow Daniel to dig until, during the first SitRep, Daniel had requested an extra day and the general had agreed. The colonel had made a crack about digging up garbage. Daniel had explained, admittedly at length, about how a civilization could be defined by their garbage. The colonel had taken that personally, for reasons neither Sam nor Teal'c were clear on. Daniel had accused the colonel of not taking his work seriously. And yadda.
Sam fought the urge to beat her head against the table as the two men revisited the argument. Janet was out of her mind.
"You were digging in garbage, for crying out loud!"
It hadn't helped that there'd been no further Goa'uld devices uncovered.
Finally, and frankly, long after she'd have stopped them, General Hammond raised a hand. "So there were no recent signs of the Goa'uld?"
"There were none, General Hammond," Teal'c answered gravely. "Major Carter and I were convinced of this."
Sam had to duck her head to hide a smile. In fact, at around 0930 during the "What the hell's so special about this piece of crap?""Funny you should ask since that's actually crap you're holding." discussion, she and Teal'c had talked about ways to attract the Goa'uld just to put them out of their misery.
"And Major Carter, you found no deposits of naquadah or trinium?"
"No, sir. Trace amounts only."
"All right then. Because of the ribbon device Dr. Jackson discovered, we will add 779 to our list of potential dig sites."
Daniel smiled a tight, triumphant smile. Beside him, the colonel glowered.
"However, because there were no other signs of Goa'uld activity, it will not be a priority."
And facial expressions were reversed.
Watching the two men, Sam suddenly realized that something was off. Daniel had begun to fiddle with his papers and Colonel O'Neill was bouncing a pencil against the palm of his other hand -- she'd seen them do the same things a hundred times. But not at the same time. Not for a while. This was the first time in about six months that all four hands were simultaneously visible on the table. And when was the last time she'd been able to see so much of the wall between their shoulders?
Frowning slightly, she stood as the general dismissed them and was still frowning, still trying to layer order onto the chaos inside her head when the colonel paused by her shoulder and muttered, "Penny for your thoughts, Carter?"
"No, sir."
"O-kay. " Hands shoved into his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. "You planning on getting something to eat any time soon?"
"I'll probably grab something later…maybe Daniel…"
"Oh, Daniel's got garbage notes he'd rather be writing up."
He sounded jealous. Oh sure, the colonel'd always been possessive of Daniel but so was Teal'c -- so was she. He was their civilian and they'd never made any bones about it. The first time Daniel had been "loaned out" to another team, all three of them'd had words with the OC, making sure he'd be properly taken care of. Daniel had freaked when he found out but that hadn't stopped Colonel O'Neill from repeating pretty much the same words to every OC every time since. Until this moment she'd have said that he was no more possessive than either her or Teal'c, was, in fact, just as possessive of her and Teal'c but there was something about his tone that sounded… personal.
Intimate?
Sam watched him hurry out of the briefing room after the Jaffa, making a suggestion about pie she was just as glad she couldn't hear.
Holy Hannah. Was Janet right?
Eight days and counting. Locked in by a freakin' fungus.
Jack hadn't seen Daniel since the debriefing. He'd eaten with Teal'c, gone back to the big guy's quarters with him to watch a movie, had not been up to explaining why Meg Ryan was America's Sweetheart, had really not been up to asking why Teal'c was steadily working his way through a stack of chick flicks, had ended up in the mess having a few beers with Ferretti and lying loudly about gate travel in an attempt to freak out a couple of eavesdropping new lieutenants just assigned to SGC.
He'd ended up having an early night on a cot crammed into his office. Most of the SG teams had been trapped inside when the quarantine order had come down; the guest quarters were full and they were stacked six deep in the two VIP suites.
Showering at six in the SG-1 locker room, he realized he'd just missed Daniel -- the showers smelled of his shampoo. Which probably meant Daniel had pulled an all-nighter on his garbage report because if Daniel didn't have to, Daniel didn't do six am.
Jack had asked him about it once, one early morning on a first year mission. Okay bitched about it to him while Carter had merely smiled understandingly and handed him a cup of coffee thick enough to stand a spoon up in. "You worked in the desert. Hell, you lived in the desert. What happened to being up at dawn and getting your work done before the heat of the day?"
Daniel had blinked up at him and said, in that mild, almost snide tone that suggested he was missing the obvious, "We're not in the desert now, Jack."
When he found himself standing on wet tiles and breathing in the scent of wet Daniel, wet naked Daniel, he had to remind himself he was still angry. And then he had to think very hard about Sister Mary Magdalene, who had pretty much been able to take care of ill timed erections ever since eighth grade.
No chance of running into Daniel in the mess.
Nothing to do but get on with his day.
Jack glared at the blank monitor screen. He was a colonel, a senior officer; he used to have an admin clerk, a little terrier of a corporal named Simpson or Samson or something -- now he had a word processing program. God damned penny pinchers at the Pentagon. And what kind of a report was he supposed to write about 779 anyway? Gated in, secured the area -- and how the hell would either Carter or Teal'c know what a grouse looked or didn't look like? -- watched Carter do the mineral thing, watched Daniel dig, didn't get to leave.
All he'd wanted to do was go home, order in, and celebrate their six month anniversary in an essentially horizontal position. Too much to ask? Apparently. Because garbage had a higher priority in Daniel's life. Of course he couldn't say anything about his plans with Carter and Teal'c listening in and by the time they were alone in the tent where they could talk, he was just as furious that Daniel'd clearly forgot their anniversary as Daniel was that he wasn't being taken seriously and nothing at all had been said. The silence had been damned near deafening.
Even at that, the whole unpleasant incident wouldn't have been a total loss had they been able to go home and really let loose. Once they actually started shouting at each other it was one small step to the most incredible make-up sex he'd ever experienced. When Daniel's passions were aroused, they were aroused right across the board.
Hell, yelling was what had finally gotten them together in the first place. Daniel had been stomping up and down his living room going on and on about… Jack frowned, scrolling up and down the empty screen as though he might find an answer. It was something about a temple and SG-3 and semi-automatic weapons, he remembered that much, remembered saying that he, personally, would have used a grenade launcher. Which had moved Daniel's attack from SG-3 to him, personally. He'd finally grabbed Daniel's shoulders and shouted at him to shut the fuck up! Which had been followed by about ten seconds of heavy breathing and staring into blazing blue eyes before he'd finally given into his baser instincts, yanked the other man close and planted one on him.
It had been like firing up the engine under one of the old Saturn 5's. Heat and noise and yeowzah!
Damn but Daniel could kiss. Hot and wet and demanding and…
Jack shifted position as certain sensitive parts of his anatomy began to press against suddenly too tight pants. It was either take it to the little colonel's room or revisit Sister Mary Magdalene because as long as they were stuck in the mountain, he wasn't going to be getting any.
Eight days.
Eight more days. Two days already on 779. Ten days all together.
And now he couldn't think of anything but…
So, probably a good thing he wasn't actually in the mood to even talk to that over-educated, oblivious, unromantic...
Except… problem.
When Daniel felt he was in the right, which he'd made quite clear he did, he was perfectly capable of staying angry at him for the full eight days. But the longer Daniel stayed angry about something, the more he thought about it -- because Daniel never stopped thinking -- and the more he thought about it, the more tangled up he got in it, and the harder it became to achieve any sort of resolution.
Jack wanted resolution. Preferably of the hot, sweaty, naked sort.
So they needed to settle this while it still could be settled cleanly.
Okay, they couldn't do the shouting, make-up sex thing in the mountain but if they let it go for eight days, a simple disagreement could quite possibly grow into something that could keep them from ever having sex again. Jack shuddered at the thought. No more golden skin sheened with sweat, no more blue eyes dark with lust, no more satiated archeologist falling asleep wrapped around him like a big cat -- a big, heavy cat; Daniel wasn't light. No more Daniel touching him with strong, skilled hands and smiling down at him with that fierce, almost incredulous smile… So NOT going to happen.
The strategic solution seemed to be a preemptive strike.
Whistling through his teeth, Jack typed for about twenty minutes, hit print, and headed for Daniel's office.
Daniel rolled over onto his back, squirmed to fit both shoulders onto the couch, and finally ended up shoving his left hand under his waistband to keep it from flopping to the floor.
He didn't know why he couldn't sleep. He should be able to sleep. He'd been up all night working on his report, scanning his sketches into the computer, working out three separate hypotheses for the presence of the ribbon device -- all based on far too little information of course. As digs went, his corner of 779 had been fast and messy but it had also been the most actual field work he'd been able to do in months. It had been fun. And it would have been more fun had Colonel Fixated on the Word Garbage O'Neill not spent the entire forty-eight hours bitching.
What the hell had gotten into Jack anyway? He hadn't been so dismissive in years.
//Come on, Daniel, pack up your pail and your shovel and let's go home.//
//For cryin' out loud, you're not finding anything of interest to anybody. This is a pointless waste of time!//
And the more Daniel had tried to explain, the worse Jack had been.
//It's garbage Daniel.//
Suddenly realizing he was grinding his teeth together, Daniel forcibly relaxed his jaw. The arrogant, short-sighted, son of a bitch! He wanted the two of them alone -- Jack's place, his, it didn't matter -- just alone to be able to yell this out. To let Jack know how little he appreciated having his work treated like some kind of inconvenient hobby. To go up one side of him and down the other…
…image: Jack lying on the floor in front of the fireplace, back arched, head thrashing from side to side, while he’d slowly licked his way up the inside of one muscular thigh and down the other. Later on, there'd been begging.
How could Jack trust him so intimately and not trust him at all professionally?
He shifted again but this time it wasn't his shoulders giving him the problem.
They were quarantined for how long? Eight days?
Plus the two days on 779. Ten. And counting.
They had rules. No sex in the mountain. No sex in the field. And currently topping the charts as rule number one: no sex while Jack refused to acknowledge that his attitude needed some serious adjusting.
And speaking of adjusting… If he slid his hand in a little further, he could do something about the way the zipper was digging into the reaction evoked by his little trip down memory lane.
"You know, Danny-boy, if you're going to spank the monkey on government time you should really lock your door."
Yanking his hand free, leaping to his feet, and remembering to breathe turned out to be one reaction too many. Daniel found himself sprawled on the floor, panting, staring up at a familiar, out of focus silhouette. Under other circumstances, one of his favorite positions.
"Damn it, Jack! Stop sneaking up on people!"
"People?" The silhouette stretched out a long arm and he realized what was about to happen an instant too late. Jack flipped the switch for the overhead lights and in the sudden glare he couldn't see anything at all. Blinking away blazing after images, he groped his way back onto the couch and fumbled his glasses up off a pile of books.
"So, what were you doing in the dark? No, wait," the other man continued. "Actually, I know the answer to that."
"I was sleeping."
"Sleeping?"
"Trying to."
"Okay."
"And the door doesn't lock."
"It doesn't?"
"Jack…"
"Daniel?"
He could see now. Jack was leaning on the edge of his desk, hands shoved deep into his pockets, legs crossed at the ankle. The door had been closed and he looked… amused. Daniel's jaw began to tense again. "Go away, Jack."
"Nope. We need to talk."
The unexpected announcement shocked Daniel into silence. He blinked, closed his mouth, blinked again, and finally managed, "What?"
"Talk. We need to. You and me."
"Right. Who are you? And what have you done with the real Jack O'Neill?" As Jack opened his mouth, Daniel raised a hand and cut him off. "Never mind. It doesn't matter because I don't want to hear anything you have to say that doesn't start with an apology. I don't want to hear anything that doesn't start with you saying…"
"I'm sorry I was such an ass on 779."
He sounded sincere. He looked sincere. Daniel stared up into warm brown eyes and wondered what he was missing. "Jack…"
"I was disappointed and I took it out on you and I shouldn't have."
"Disappointed?"
"You know, that we weren't going to be home for our…"
He was waiting expectantly but Daniel didn't have the faintest of idea of how to finish the sentence. Did they have something planned? Tickets for a game of some kind? He wasn't even certain what sport was being played right now but surely he would have remembered if they'd bought tickets. As the pause lengthened, Jack's brows drew in and he looked…
…hurt? It suddenly became very difficult to hold onto his undeniably righteous anger.
"You forgot, didn't you?"
"Forgot?"
"Our anniversary. Six months. I wanted the two of us to have some alone time but since it didn't mean anything to you, I guess that explains why you were so into that garbage."
Their six month anniversary. And with all that guilt moving in there was no room left for the anger. Who'd have thought Colonel It's Still Moving Shoot it Again O'Neill would be so sappy? He should have, that's who. Sure the sex thing was relatively new but they'd been friends for years. He should have known how important an anniversary would be to a man who brought him coffee in bed and sat through Discovery Channel's Sacred Sexuality in Ancient Egypt… almost quietly. "You thought I'd rather dig than be with you?"
Jack shrugged.
"That's not…" He stood, closed the distance between them in two long strides, and searched for the words to wipe that look off Jack's face. "You're right. I forgot. I don't have an excuse, I just… I mean, it's just, anniversaries aren't… and I never thought you'd…" Well, he had the words, he was just a little short of complete sentences. "I am so sorry. If I'd remembered it was our anniversary, I'd have blown 779 off in a second. You're infinitely more important to me..."
"Than garbage?"
Again with the garbage! "Than the possibility of uncovering something that would tell us when and how that ribbon device was destroyed."
"Oh for cryin' out loud, Daniel, you were mucking about with bits and pieces of dead people's trash!"
"You know, I'm suddenly getting the idea that you'd have been okay with postponing whatever horizontal plans you had in mind if we'd been discussing weapons systems with an advanced race."
"Well, obviously!"
Daniel threw up his hands, paced away, and charged back. He should have known. "That's exactly the problem, Jack! Not that I forgot an anniversary that one guy in a hundred would have remembered; the problem is that you still think what I do is pointless. That you don't respect my work! That you think what I do isn't as valid as what you do!"
"That I remembered our anniversary and you forgot!"
"And then used my guilt to manipulate me into letting your behavior slide on by!"
"Manipulating?"
"Yeah. Manipulating. As in, Jack O'Neill, manipulative bastard!"
They were standing toe to toe. Jack had straightened and was leaning a little forward, eyes dark, lips pressed into a thin line, hands out of his pockets and curled into fists. He looked dangerous. He looked like a physical man barely holding that physical in check. Daniel could feel the heat rising to fill the space between them until it seemed they were pressed up against each other, groin to groin.
"Oh no." The sudden rush of blood south made him feel light headed. He took a hasty step back before his body betrayed him and surged forward. "How long are we stuck in here?"
Jack drew in a long shuddering breath. "Counting the rest of today? Eight days."
"We are so screwed."
"We can do this."
"Ten days all together."
"Two down. We can keep our hands to ourselves for eight more days. Hell…" The old familiar grin was back. "…you were keeping your hands to yourself fine when I showed up."
"I was…"
"Thinking of me?"
…on his back in front of the fire…
Daniel felt his ears burn and Jack's grin broadened.
"Sweet."
A little distance couldn't hurt and given the crowded conditions in his office, the couch was as far away as he could get. He sat down and rubbed his palms against his thighs. "Eight days…"
"That which does not kill us," Jack said solemnly, squaring his shoulders, "makes us stronger."
"Or leaves us a shuddering wreck. Sexually frustrated flotsam washed up on the shores of the SGC."
"Oh, yeah. That's the spirit." He sighed, looking resigned. "I think, if we're going to get through this without anyone either asking or telling, we ought to spend as little time together as possible."
"Won't that raise some questions?"
"Not as many as General Hammond walking in on us when I have my tongue down your throat."
"Good point." Daniel watched him walk to the door, tried to not to watch his ass and failed miserably. Then he watched the door close, realizing they hadn't actually settled anything.
Before he could decide what he was going to do about it, the door opened and Jack leaned back into the room. "Oh, and Daniel? I do respect your work. I don't usually understand it but I respect it. I was just a little preoccupied with plans for getting you naked."
This time the heat between them warmed rather than consumed. He had a feeling his smile was sappier than anything Jack had ever managed. "You're one guy in a hundred, Jack."
"I'm one in a million, Daniel."
"Colonel O'Neill!" Sam couldn't stop herself from jumping backwards and she strongly suspected she looked as though she'd just been caught trying to sneak up on a superior officer in the hopes of hearing what he was saying through the open door of his civilian consultant's office. Which she had been. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so embarrassed. She was definitely going to kill Janet.
"Mornin' Carter. You heading in to see Daniel?"
"Un, no, sir." Her cover story… Holy Hannah, she'd forgotten her cover story. "I was…" Papers. She was holding papers. "…actually on my way to see you." She held the papers out toward him; seven pages plus four scanned and printed shots of the night sky. "My mission report on 779. I just finished it. I would have been done sooner but I waited to include the preliminary mineral survey."
"Swell. You aiming for another promotion?"
"Sir?" She fell into step beside him as he headed for the elevators.
"Kidding. Besides, that fire probably set you back a bit."
Sam decided it would only seem childish to keep muttering that it hadn't been her fault. Who knew the equipment monitoring the naquadah reactor would be so flammable? Okay, technically, she'd known, she just hadn't expected it to ignite. "So, is Daniel…"
"Probably sleeping. He spent all night working on his report. Lot's of juicy garbage details to work in."
"You've read it?"
He glanced down and seemed to realize he was holding only her paperwork. "Uh, no. We just had a little talk."
Sam actually felt her eyebrows rise in reaction, as though they too were astonished by this totally unexpected comment. "You talked?"
"I talk." The colonel turned his patented hurt-annoyed-impatient expression toward her -- the one he usually used when he wasn't getting his own way and thought he should. "Why is everyone so amazed when I talk?"
Reaction seemed to indicate Daniel had been a little surprised by it too. Sam didn't blame him since the colonel's response to most variations of "We should talk." was "What's there to talk about?"
"No reason, sir. So you and Daniel made… up," her brain supplied at the last instant as a different preposition struggled to emerge.
"Yes, we have." Stepping into the elevator, he stretched out a hand to stop the door from closing. "You coming?"
"No, sir, I promised Janet I'd…" Report on the situation between you and Daniel as soon as I knew something. "…see her this morning," she finished lamely, cursing the subtext her brain kept supplying.
"Girl stuff?"
Her lip curled. The downside of the colonel making up with Daniel seemed to be the silly mood it put him in. At least when they were fighting, he was too busy coming up with reasons Daniel was wrong and he was right to make stupid jokes. "No sir, major stuff."
"Right. Sorry. Oh, and Carter? That indigenous life form you mention on page one, it was a grouse."
The elevator door closed before she could respond. Which, since only one response occurred to her, was probably a good thing.
"Yes! There's only one short step between making up and making out!" Janet rubbed her hands together gleefully. There was nothing she hated more than not knowing what was going on and now it seemed as though she'd finally have proof of what she'd suspected ever since Jack had shown up in her infirmary with a pulled muscle from sparring with Teal'c and a "not a hickey" on his shoulder. Pure co-incidence that she'd later seen him rubbing the spot while talking to Daniel. Even too far away to hear anything, she could see that -- although Daniel's cheeks were scarlet -- both men were smiling.
It was just like Stephen and Tom in Anchor's Away -- except Jack was Air force not Navy and Daniel was neither no matter how good he looked in fatigues.
"I can't believe I actually did that," Sam muttered, dunking her tea bag. "I was so close the colonel practically backed right into me."
"Sam, he was special forces; if you were that close and he didn't know you were there, well, that proves he was distracted." She pulled a tin of Danish butter cookies out of her lower drawer, took one and passed the tin across the desk. "In fact, if you were that close… did he smell like sex?"
Reflexes honed by having a teenager in the house snatched a pile of papers out of harm's way as Sam spewed a mouthful of tea.
"I am NOT sniffing Colonel O'Neill!"
"I'm not asking you to," Janet told her reasonably as she wiped up the tea with handfuls of tissue. "I'm just asking if he did since you were there and, well, inhaling."
"I didn't notice." Sam took a mouthful of tea she actually managed to swallow and then bit into a cookie with more force than was actually necessary. "I'm not sure I remember what sex smells like."
Janet tossed the damp tissues in the wastebasket and lifted her mug in a rueful salute. "I hear you, sister. And that's why this whole Jack and Daniel thing is so important -- they're pretty much getting laid for all of us."
Sam returned the salute. "We're pathetic."
"We are."
"But if you want someone to sniff the colonel you'll have to do it yourself."
"No point." She tapped her nose. "I may not be in Daniel's league but my sinuses aren't up to anything subtle. Maybe we should bring Teal'c in on this…"
"NO!"
"That was very… definite." Janet hid her smile behind her mug.
"It's bad enough we're in on it!"
"You don't think Teal'c…"
"NO!"
"They have a different attitude toward this sort of thing on Chulak, you know."
"Spying on their superior officers and their friends?"
"No. Physical relations between two men. It's very common amongst the Jaffa. They spend a lot of time away from their families, no one around but other Jaffa…"
Sam's eyes widened. "No, I didn't know that. How do you know that?"
"How do you think? I asked Teal'c."
"What!? Why?"
Janet shrugged, amused by her friend's appalled expression. Playing in the boy's league all her life had left Sam just a little repressed. "I was curious."
"You didn't…"
It took her a moment to translate the hand waving and eyebrows into words. "Tell him my theory about Jack and Daniel? Don't worry, hon, you are my sole confidant. My only witness. My…"
"Partner in crime?"
"That too."
"Hey there, big guy. Only seven days to go. You keeping' busy?"
Teal'c carefully removed a second cover plate and set it to one side. "I am." He'd hoped O'Neill would take the hint -- he was busy -- and move on. How did Sergeant Davis put it? No such luck.
"Whacha doin'?"
"I am adjusting the trigger mechanism on my staff weapon. It is very delicate and exacting work requiring my full attention."
Colonel O'Neill merely bounced closer. "Yeah? How come?"
Teal'c looked up at his closest friend among the Tauri, at the man he considered his brother and contemplated violence. "I do not wish it to explode. Do not touch that, O'Neill," he added as fingers reached out for one of the scattered components. "It will react with the oils on your skin."
Fingers waggled in the air. "No oils on me."
"Do not touch that either," Teal'c told him as the waggling fingers descended toward the work bench.
"You didn't even know what I was going to touch!"
"It does not matter. Do you not have work of your own to do?"
"Oh yeah. Loads of it. Lots and lots of little bits of paper and a whole bunch of ones and zeros."
Which he was clearly not intending to deal with. There were days, and it appeared that this was one of them, when a man capable of making life and death decisions, of commanding the loyalty of all around him by his obvious devotion to the ideals of a true warrior, acted significantly younger than Ray'ac.
After a moment spent watching O'Neill careen around his work space, not touching perhaps but not settling in such a way he could be ignored, Teal'c came to a decision. Under normal circumstances, he would never become involved in the personal lives of his teammates. He had said nothing when DanielJackson had closeted himself with Ke'ra. He had said nothing when Major Carter had basked in the attention of the Tok’ra Martouff. He had said nothing about the manner O'Neill had contracted the aging virus on Argos. But all this unresolved sexual tension was beginning to annoy him.
"I understand you are no longer arguing with DanielJackson."
"Made up yesterday. Just a little misunderstanding."
"Indeed. Then if you are seeking distraction, why are you not with him?"
His brother chose to misunderstand. "Just thought I'd spend some time with you."
Fine. As they said on Chulak, there was more than one way to skin a hegain. "When you and DanielJackson avoid each other's company everyone at the SGC assumes you are in disagreement and they wait for the yelling to begin. Most of them consider the two of you to be better than cable. They do nothing but wait," he added in case O'Neill had missed the point. "If you and DanielJackson are not in disagreement then I suggest you spend time together and allow the rest of the SGC to get on with their work."
"Daniel's translating some temple engravings…"
"I am repairing my staff weapon. DanielJackson's engravings will not explode should his attention wander."
"Good point. So in order to keep the SGC operating at full efficiency and in one piece…" He nodded toward the workbench. "I should spend some time with Daniel…"
"You should."
"Better than cable?"
"Indeed."
“Teal’c thinks we should spend some time together.”
“That’s nice.” His attention on the sheaf of papers in his hand, Daniel walked past Jack and pulled a book off the shelf. When he tried to return to his desk, Jack moved into his way.
“Did you hear me? I said, Teal’c thinks we should spend some time together.”
Three familiar lines appeared between Daniel’s eyes. “Why?”
“Apparently, the entire base shuts down when we disagree.”
“Jack, we disagree daily.”
“Not disagree.” Jack raised both hands and sketched in a set of air quotes. “Disagree.”
“Oh. The kind of emphatic disagreement that results in both of us yelling and one of us stomping away?”
“That’s the one. Since we’re not spending time together, the whole base thinks we’re having a disagreement and they’re…“
“Waiting for it to get emphatic?“
“I have it on good authority that we’re better than cable.”
Daniel sighed and folded his arms around book and papers both. “Am I the only one around here actually doing any work?”
“Hey! I worked all morning. I signed off on 779 and I dealt with the latest missive from Major Destined to Remain Unrequited Davis.”
“Jack, he’s not…”
“He is.” Jack reached out and gently slid Daniel's glasses back up his nose. “You may not see it but I do. He watches you all the time you’re together. He stands well within your personal space…”
“You mean your personal space,” Daniel muttered. But he didn’t step back and his eyes had picked up that little crinkle at the corners that meant he was trying not to smile so Jack continued.
“…and when you want to adopt a research assistant from another freakin’ planet, the Pentagon anti’s up a paycheck with nary a whimper but if I try to replace a jacket that got shot to shit, I have to fill out five hundred forms, in triplicate, and sign a blood oath stating next time I’ll try harder to duck.”
The smile had reached Daniel’s mouth. “Yeah, and I’d believe that, Jack, if I didn’t know you had the supply sergeant wrapped around your little finger. You’re the only person on this base who can get CDR's out of her.”
He stepped forward, heading for his desk. Jack stood his ground, letting Daniel shoulder him out of the way, happily enjoying even such a cursory contact. //Which when you get right down to it is really kinda pathetic…// And so what. They had another seven sex free days and he was taking what contact he could get.
“Jack?”
Which is when he realized Daniel had been talking through his internal monologue. “Sorry, I was thinking about something else.”
And that got him the full Dr. Jackson eyebrow treatment. “When aren’t you?”
“Hey, who was rubbing whose thigh during the 779 mission briefing?” And the best defense was still a good offence as his darling double doctorate blushed scarlet and surrendered the field. “So, what did you say to me that I missed?” he asked, gracious in victory.
"That if Teal'c thinks we should spend time together, maybe we should go to lunch." He glanced down at the clock on his monitor. "The mess has been open for half an hour and…"
"And you forgot to have breakfast," Jack finished dryly. "How many times do we have to go over this, Daniel, breakfast is the one meal you don't skip. Everyone's blood sugar is low when they first wake up and low blood sugar can impair judgment and impaired judgment can get you killed."
"These translations aren't that vicious…" Daniel's attempt at humour trailed off as Jack continued to scowl. "Okay, you're right. It needs to be a habit here so that it's a habit in the field; I remember the lecture. But…" He raised a hand before Jack could speak. "…I just woke up about twenty minutes ago so technically, this will be breakfast. I'll give Sam a call."
"Did I miss another bit of the conversation," Jack wondered watching Daniel hit the quick dial for Carter's lab. "I thought we were spending some time together."
"We are, but why make it any harder on ourselves than it has to be? Sam can be our bulwark against temptation."
"I don't think Carter'd like to hear herself referred to as a bulwark…"
"It means, shield, Jack."
"I knew that," he muttered as Daniel waved him quiet and began explaining the idea of lunch to Carter. Although he didn't know why it had to be explained, as far as he knew Carter'd been managing lunch just fine most of her life. He watched Daniel's full mouth wrapping itself around sixty dollar words, watched long fingers wrap around the receiver…
….mouth wrapping…
…fingers wrapping…
"Janet's coming too. Jack?"
…coming too…
"Jack?"
A bulwark might not be such a bad idea.
"They want us to run interference," Janet declared confidently as the two women left Sam's lab and headed for the mess.
Sam sighed. She might be ninety-five percent convinced that there was something behind Janet's obsession but that didn't mean she was willing to read sexual subtext into perfectly normal situations. One of them had to maintain at least a tenuous grip on reality. "They want us to join them for lunch."
"Hiding their relationship in plain sight."
"Maybe they're hungry."
Janet waggled her eyebrows suggestively and Sam couldn't prevent a snicker.
A sudden increase in corridor traffic switched the topic of conversation to a more discrete discussion of Cassie's history marks -- "No, she had the facts right but her analysis of the situation was, shall we say, unique." -- until they found themselves nearly at their destination.
"It must be hard on them to be alone together and not be able to act on their feelings," Janet mused thoughtfully. "A safely supervised hour or two is just what they need to take the edge off."
"They wouldn't have been alone. There's probably twenty people eating lunch in here," Sam pointed out as they pushed through the double doors and into an almost solid wall of sound. "No, closer to fifty!" It looked like every officer stuck in the mountain had headed for soup and sandwiches at the same time. It was a good thing the colonel had saved them seats at SG-1's regular table or they'd have been out of luck. She bent down until her mouth was by Janet's ear. "I very much doubt they'd have been acting out your fantasy life in this crowd."
"Next time they ask, we should say we're busy. Or that we've already eaten."
Sam shook her head as they pushed into the mess. "You don't handle boredom well, do you?"
Janet looked up at her from under long lashes and grinned. "Who's bored?"
"Isn't this something you'd normally do with Dr. Jackson."
"Daniel's translating, and Teal'c's meditating, and Carter and Siler are putting something back together but please don't ask me what since I only understood about half the explanation."
"And Dr. Fraiser?"
"Some airman closed a locker door on his finger and ol' Doc Fraiser was so happy to get a patient she's practically taking him into surgery to save his nail."
General Hammond glanced from the chess set to Colonel O'Neill. "So what you're saying, Jack, is that I was your last choice."
"Only because I knew how busy you'd be this evening, sir. And I hated to disturb you."
The general smiled and waved his errant 2IC into a chair. When Jack was being charming, he was damned near impossible to resist. "Nice save."
"Thank you."
"I'm taking white to make up for being interrupted when I'm so busy." Setting the box to one side, he began placing his pieces on the board. "I was pleased to hear that you and Dr. Jackson settled your disagreement so quickly. I have to admit I was expecting it to last longer."
"Well, you know Daniel; he makes a habit of exceeding expectations."
About to place his queen, General Hammond paused and took a long look at the man across the board from him. He'd sounded… reflective. "I have to admit, I'm pleased with the effect Dr. Jackson's had on you, Jack."
"Effect?"
"Well, don't take this the wrong way -- you're still a dangerous s.o.b. when it suits you…" He grinned as the colonel preened. "…but your relationship with Dr. Jackson has softened you a bit."
"Would you prefer gentled?" he asked dryly when Jack finally stopped coughing and had replaced the spilled chess pieces on the board.
"If I have to chose sir, yes, I would."
"Six more days. Six more days stuck in this mountain." Jack plucked a dubious looking piece of pie off the cold rack, dropped it onto his tray next to an equally dubious sandwich, and shuffled forward, hoping the sudden contact his left side was now making with Daniel's right side looked like impatience not the desperation of a horny man. He barely stopped himself from leaning just a little closer, close enough to smell the scent rising off heated skin and hair. "We're not going to last."
"We don't have a choice." Daniel pushed his soup to one side, frowned at the rice pudding, and reached for a bowl of Jell-O instead. "It's a quarantine. We can't break it." A quick smile at the middle-aged woman behind the steam table and he headed for SG-1's usual spot in the far corner of the room.
Jack followed, covertly watching Daniel's ass -- always nice to be able to put that special ops training to use -- and marveling once again at the way his archeologist remained oblivious to the effect his smiles had on all and sundry. Which was a good thing, given that Daniel was HIS archeologist and he didn't think he could take that cook unarmed.
Their table was far enough from the others it made eavesdropping difficult and had, as well as a direct line of sight to both visible entrances, a wall at their backs and a clear run to the kitchens if the necessity arose. That last had taken a bit of rearranging but it was amazing how furniture stayed where it was when moving it brought a large and disapproving Jaffa over to move it back. Teal'c had fully approved, Carter had at least understood, and he hadn't mentioned the whole threat assement of the mess thing to Daniel. Some conversations they didn't need to have.
"I've got an idea," he murmured as he slid into his seat and squeezed Daniel's thigh under cover of moving his chair closer to the table. Daniel liked to sit where he could people-watch which meant that Jack could sit beside him; back to the wall, eyes to possible danger. And ignoring the whole "best defensive position" he'd discovered early on that sitting beside Daniel gave him a lot more access than sitting across. One of the reasons he tried to let Daniel sit down first at briefings, knowing Daniel wouldn't then get up and move. That would be rude. Daniel was never purposefully rude although he could be obliviously rude half a dozen times before breakfast.
"No."
"You didn't even hear the idea."
"I don't need to hear the idea. I just got felt up by the idea." Although the full lips had curved slightly, Jack recognized his 'I've made up my mind and nothing you say will shift me' expression. "No."
He lifted the top slice of bread, peered into the depths of his sandwich, and decided he'd probably be happier not knowing. Sometimes mystery meat should remain just that. "General Hammond seems to think you soften me."
"Yeah, well what the general doesn't know won't get you arrested."
"See. That's the first thing you thought of too." Jack grinned and pressed his right knee up against Daniel's left. The heat generated through two sets of military issue work-dress trousers was astounding. "You know you want to."
"Of course I want to." The words were ground out through clenched teeth.
"And I want to."
"We're guys, Jack; we pretty much always want to."
"So lets."
"No. And you knew I was going to say that and that's the only reason you're coming on so strong. I can't believe Sam and Janet blew us off."
"Oooh, Dr. Jackson; I love it when you talk dirty."
Daniel's cheeks -- well, technically cheek since Jack could only see one of them -- flushed. "I don't care how cute you get, we're not…" He lowered his voice. "…being intimate in the mountain."
"Being intimate?"
He dropped his chin onto his hand, turning his face toward Jack and shielding his mouth from the rest of the room. "Do you really want me to say we're not fucking in the officer's mess? Because that seems just a little risky to me, Jack. Still, it's your court martial and, who knows, maybe they'll allow conjugal visits at Leavenworth."
"Do you have any idea how much I hate it when you're right." Full O'Neill volume to throw off anyone wondering about all the murmuring. The whole mountain knew how much he hated it when Daniel was right.
"Suck it up."
"Eat your Jell-O."
"The whipped cream's gone stiff."
"Stiff is good."
"Jack.
"No really, I like it when it's hard." He reached out, scooped the congealed topping off the Jell-O, and popped it in his mouth, making appreciative sounds deep in his throat. Okay, so they weren't exactly 'hey, that's tasty' sounds but only Daniel knew that.
"You're killing me, Jack."
"Six more days, Daniel."
"Five more days."
"Jack, if you won't go away and let me work, would you please stop pacing and sit down!"
"You want me to sit?"
"Yes!" Daniel realized his mistake a half a heartbeat before Jack dropped his ass onto the edge of the desk. He made a frantic grab for the pile of papers about to be suddenly displaced and yanked them clear with barely millimeters to spare. A few corners got bent but that was nothing compared to what might have… which was when he realized his lunge had rolled him out of his defensive position under the desk and he was now sitting with Jack's boot firmly pressed against the edge of the chair between his open legs.
"Jack…"
"Daniel?"
Jack's leg was longer than the space he had available to roll back. Rolling right would bring him hard up against his printer. Rolling left, hard up against Jack. Even he could threat assess that situation. His current position -- spread out and trapped under Jack's appreciative gaze -- was directing blood straight to his crotch.
Rescued printouts of the temple engravings on P3C 241 made an inadequate shield but it was all he had.
Jack grinned.
The bastard. A bored Jack O'Neill was like a twelve year old Jack O'Neill. No, not twelve, fifteen. Way too horny for twelve.
"Five days without. Five days to go. I'd say we're riding the hump but I'm really trying not to use words like hump. Or pound. Or into. Or mattress."
Suddenly impossible not to grin back.
"Or screw," Jack continued, adding thoughtfully, "which made it a little tricky when I was trying to tell Siler why I needed one of his guys to fix my desk."
Daniel snorted. "So you're here annoying me because you have a screw loose?"
"Something like that." Twisting at the waist, he picked up the squat, narrow mouthed, pottery jar SG-11 had brought back from 241. "This is new."
"Jack, don't play with that.
Frowning, he stuck his nose into the opening and took a long sniff. "It smells funny."
"So will you when you're over four thousand years old." Daniel shoved the temple engravings onto the printer table's lower shelf and rolled closer, concern for the jar vanquishing all other concerns. While Jack had never actually broken anything irreplaceable, his way of treating priceless artifacts like they'd been picked up at Wal-mart made Daniel's skin crawl. "Put it back!"
The toe of Jack's boot now pressed up between his legs, the leer, the jar set safely aside -- Daniel realized he'd been out maneuvered again.
"Other things in this room I'd rather play with anyway."
"Jack…" Gentle pressure rubbing against his balls, his pants becoming uncomfortably ti…
"Daniel, have you seen… Oh. Colonel. There you are."
"Carter." Jack drawled the name without turning, his expression holding Daniel in place. If you over-react, it said as clearly as if he'd spoken aloud, she'll know something was up.
Well, it wasn't up anymore that was for damned sure.
Sam's expression -- or what Daniel could see of it behind Jack's shoulder -- was a curious mix of anticipation and disappointment. Given the temperature of his ears, he had a horrible suspicion his own expression said "you just walked in on Jack getting me off with some subtle domination and an army boot; oh and by the way, we've been fucking like mink every chance we get for about six months but it's more than just sex and we're beginning to think we're heading toward trips to Ikea and happily ever after". Of course it was just as likely he was wearing what Jack liked to call his smacked guppy look. Pushing his chair out from the desk, he reached down for his printouts, taking his expression out of the equation entirely and leaving damage control to the expert.
"What can I do for you, Carter." Foot off the chair, a half turn, ass still planted firmly on Daniel's desk, leg toward Sam up and kicking idly, other leg planted firmly on the floor -- interesting position; Daniel realized Jack's reaction to the sudden interruption had been less complete than his.
//Can't stand up, Jack? Serves you right.//
He risked a look at Sam who now combined expressionless professionalism with a suspicious gleam in her blue-gray eyes. "Sergeant Conner asked me to remind you that you're booked on the range for 1600, sir."
"One lousy no show because I've been beamed up by little gray men and suddenly I merit reminders?" Jack snorted.
"According to Sergeant Conner, there was one no show because of the Asgard, sir. One because we stayed an extra day on POJ 23K. One because you were doing laundry…"
"Hey, I was down to a twelve year old pair of sweats. I needed to do laundry."
"…and one because you were with Daniel going over his field notes."
"I needed to be completely sure of his position."
As Daniel remembered the evening, there'd been a number of positions involved and Jack had been completely sure about all of them. Well, all but the last one but they'd managed to improvise when Jack's knees gave out. Realizing he was blushing again, he dropped his printouts on the floor and slid down out of his chair to pick them up.
"Are you okay, Daniel?"
"Fine, Sam." He locked his gaze on the pieces of paper and refused to think about being on his knees in front of Jack. "Just having a clumsy day."
"Okay. Uh, Janet and I were thinking about playing some cards tonight, if you guys are interested…"
"Cards or cards Carter?"
"Sir, it's Janet…"
"Good point. We'll be there."
That brought Daniel's head up. "Jack, I've got to finish this."
Jack half turned, just enough to keep Sam from seeing the way his eyes were smoldering. Unfortunately, Daniel could see them just fine and Sam could see Daniel and as Jack started talking he fought to keep his expression from giving the whole thing away.
"All work and no play, Daniel. Take a break for a couple of hours and contribute to Cassie's college fund then, if you like, I'll personally see to it you're returned to your usual scholarly position."
//He says to a man on his knees.// Daniel licked suddenly dry lips, realized that had just cranked the temperature up another couple of degrees and forced out, "Yeah. Sure. Fine." Given the circumstances, his voice was remarkably steady.
"Okay." Sam's voice sounded a little tight. He managed to tear his eyes off Jack's face but Sam seemed to be fascinated by a shard of tile propped up on a shelf by his door. The blues were fascinating -- such true colors usually indicative of a higher tech level than the rest of the glazing seemed to suggest. He hadn't realized Sam was interested. As he made a mental note to discuss it with her later, she cleared her throat and said, "Infirmary, twenty-one hundred."
Then she was gone.
And Daniel refocused to find a pair of long muscular legs stretching out on either side of him. With a strength he hadn't known he possessed, he resisted the urge to sink his teeth through the khaki and into flesh. "We are never going to make it five more days."
"Ya think?"
"Jack, let me up or I'm going to tell you everything I know about First Dynasty trade and economic structure."
"Way to kill the moment, Daniel."
"You can thank me later."
"Well?" Janet demanded, falling into step beside Sam as the major came around the corner from Daniel's office.
Sam shook her head and shot the other woman a rueful smile. "I should have given the colonel another five minutes. From the looks of things he had Daniel on the ropes and it was only a matter of time."
"There were ropes involved?"
"Metaphorically speaking."
"Don't -- metaphors we have. Nicknames we have. Long lingering looks we have. Finishing each other's sentences we have. Infirmary vigils we have." She dropped her voice as they passed a pair of SF's. "What we need are some cold, hard facts."
"Well, Daniel was on his knees…"
"On his knees?" Janet clutched at her abdomen. "Oh god, I think I just popped an egg!"
"Janet!"
"Sorry hon, totally spontaneous reaction. In fact, damn near spontaneous combustion." She smoothed down the wrinkled front of her lab coat. "So, are they playing tonight?"
Sam rolled her eyes and slapped at the elevator call button with more violence than was strictly necessary. "What kind of a question is that? As far as I know, Daniel's sleeping in his office and the colonel's up one level in his."
"Cards, Sam. Are they playing cards?"
"Oh." She could feel her face flush. In fact, she could feel her whole body flush and made a sudden vow to never, ever again tease Daniel about the way he blushed when one of his assumptions got turned on its head. "Sorry, I, uh…"
Janet grinned. "Had your mind in the gutter? Good for you, girlfriend."
"Yes. They're playing cards." Sam cut off further commentary as the elevator arrived, nodded at the half dozen airmen who exited then followed Janet into the empty space. "Promise me, you'll behave," she begged as the door closed.
"I promise I'll have nothing on my mind but Cassie's college fund. Although…"
"No."
"I was just thinking that, since they'll be in the infirmary anyway, if I could get a couple of fingers up their respective asses, I'll not only tell you what they're doing but how well."
Sam's gaze snapped down off the digital display. "You were just thinking about rectal exams?"
"Perfectly normal medical procedure, Sam."
"In an elevator?"
"Well, no, performing rectal exams in an elevator would be medically unethical at best."
Sam knew that the three airmen who got on at 18 were wondering why one major was wiping away tears of laughter and the other was beating her head against the wall but she was too busy beating her head against the wall to actually worry much about it.
Teal'c studied his full house, kings over eights, and then swept a contemplative gaze around the table. Major Ferretti had already folded and was now drinking beer with relaxed posture of a man who knew he would lose no more money this hand. Major Carter, while able to remember all cards played and calculate the odds accordingly, was incapable of bluffing in any believable way. At best, she had three of a kind. DanielJackson's strength lay in his ability to read what the other players were projecting and with his attention engaged was surprisingly skilled at dissembling or at least distracting attention from himself. He was, however, convinced of a just universe and insisted on drawing to an inside straight. It was extremely unlikely he had anything to challenge a full house. Colonel O'Neill had what Teal'c understood as an excellent poker face. It was a face Teal'c had also seen while SG-1 was attempting to talk their way free of a fight against overwhelming odds. Conclusion; O'Neill was bluffing.
Reasoned analysis of the situation suggested Dr. Fraiser was the only serious threat.
"I see your twenty, Dr. Fraiser, and raise you another twenty."
Major Carter and DanielJackson folded immediately as he'd assumed they would, Major Carter accepting an alcoholic beverage from Major Ferretti with some relief and DanielJackson leaning sideways, attempting to see O'Neill's hand.
Not that he had to lean far. Teal'c assumed placing the two men so close together had been part of Dr. Fraiser's strategy for winning. If so, he approved. Winning was always the point of playing the game.
"Ow. Jack!"
"Forget it, Daniel, you're not seeing my hand. You don't bluff for shit and I don't want you frightening the pigeons away."
Dr. Fraiser snorted and Teal'c had to admire her canny assessment of the situation.
"Okay, big guy. I call. What've you got?"
Teal'c laid his hand the table. As he'd expected, O'Neill's face fell.
"Oh, for cryin' out loud."
"Jesus, Jack, you stayed in with a pair of queens?" Major Ferretti took a long swallow of beer and then shook his head. "And you say Daniel can't hold his liquor."
"Jack…"
"Daniel?"
"Context?"
Teal'c watched with interest as his brother searched for an answer and apparently could not find one that would satisfy DanielJackson.
"Boys? As interesting as this would be at any other time…" And Dr. Fraiser laid her cards on the table.
A straight flush. In hearts.
Teal'c inclined his head in salute. He would take solace in knowing he had fought well. Unlike his brother who would have to take his solace elsewhere.
"I would never suggest that Janet cheats, she's an officer and a gentle… woman. All I said was, at this rate we'll have paid to put Cassie through Harvard Medical School."
Daniel sighed as they turned down toward the last stretch of corridor toward his office. "She'd have to settle for something a little less Ivy League if you'd learn when to fold."
"I had a pair of queens."
Daniel glanced over to see that Jack was smiling broadly.
"It seemed like an omen."
"You've got to be kidding me…" But he couldn't stop himself from snickering.
"And I never told Ferretti you couldn't hold your liquor. What I said was that you were a cheap drunk."
"And that's better?" New rule. No sex until Jack developed a less arrested sense of humour.
"Cheap as in inexpensive."
"If you'll recall I was flat broke when I got this gig and had previously spent my entire adult life as an underpaid academic. When did I have the time to develop expensive taste? I," he continued before Jack could answer, "was not an international man of mystery."
"Hey, I wasn't the guy wearing the striped bell bottoms." Jack turned as they reached the office door and looked at Daniel with such heat that he was exceedingly happy he was currently wearing his baggiest work pants. Especially since the closest security camera seemed to be pointed directly at his crotch. Probably an optical illusion. "Let's take this inside."
The temperature in the corridor jumped about ten degrees. "Jack, I don't think you should…"
"I just thought I'd pick up your notes on PU8 434. Briefing's day after tomorrow; it'll give me a chance to go over them in advance."
Ah yes, the conscientious team leader approach. Which Daniel might have fallen for were he a complete idiot. Jack never read either his notes or Sam's in advance; had in fact been heard to wonder why he should keep a dog and bark himself. Sam had taken the observation as a compliment -- Colonel O'Neill trusted her to keep him informed of what he needed to know -- and Daniel had eventually allowed himself to be talked around. But not before he'd made Jack bark…
"Thinking happy thoughts, Daniel?"
Hoping the camera couldn't pick up the color of his ears, Daniel rearranged his expression into something suitably peevish and said, enunciating clearly, "Fine, you can have the report. But we both know you won't read it." Then he stepped into his office, turned as he heard the door close behind him, and found Jack leaning against it grinning broadly. "What?"
"The security cameras are video only."
"I know."
"Then why?"
"What if someone can…"
"Lip read?"
"Okay, it sounds stupid when you say it like that but I was just trying to cover your… Jack!" He backed up until the work table caught him against the back of his thighs, watched as Jack closed the distance between them, stared mesmerized as his hand rose and one callused thumb stroked across his bottom lip. "What…" He had to clear his throat before he could continue. "What are you doing?"
"Lip reading."
The thumb returned. Half a heart beat away from giving in to the need that sizzled under his skin, Daniel opened his mouth and caught the thumb gently between his teeth, flicking the tip with his tongue. When Jack groaned, he allowed him to pull it free. "I'm getting tired of being the one who's always saying no."
Jack's eyes widened. "That was a no?"
"That was a no." One hand splayed on Jack's chest, he stepped away from the desk. Pro-active was the only way to deal with Jack. The man could rationalize anything.
"Your mouth says no but your body…"
"Is putty in your hands and you know it you smug, s.o.b." Jack's back hit the inside of the door. "Now kiss me goodnight and get the hell out of here so I can work."
"Kiss you goodnight?"
Had he actually said that? Out loud? From the triumphant look on Jack's face, he had -- and it was quite obvious that at this point, resistance would be futile. And given that futility just generally made him crazy, he might as well surrender early on. One set of Jack's fingers wrapped around the nape of his neck, the other tucked into the front of his pants and yanked him close. He could feel the other man's heart pounding under his hand. Could feel his own heart pounding.
"My door… it doesn't lock."
"S'okay, we're leaning against it."
The words lapped warm against his mouth. Then heat. And wet. And finally after five long days, Jack. One of them moaned. Daniel thought it was him but he wasn't…
Oh yeah. That was him.
But that was Jack.
Then strong fingers gripped his shoulders and pushed him back. Back?! He fought to bring cognitive processes back online but it wasn't easy since his brain had clearly handed over control to his dick.
"I'll be getting the hell out of here now… so you can work." Grinning in what could only be termed a decidedly evil manner, Jack picked up a folder from the nearest shelf, opened the door just wide enough to give him access to the corridor, slid through, and closed it behind him.
Daniel blinked at the scuffed paint, his lips throbbing. Hell, his whole body was throbbing. //Mixed messages; that's what's wrong with the world.// And it certainly didn't help that the messages had been his -- he couldn't blame Jack for doing exactly what he'd been told to do. Well, he could. And he was. But the point was, he shouldn’t.
Sighing deeply, he crossed to his desk, picked up a box of tissues, and returned to the door, fumbling with his belt. Settling back against the place Jack had filled only moments before, he thought he could feel a lingering warmth from the other man's body.
"Memo, to self," he muttered as he wrestled his fly open, "get Siler to fix the lock on this door."
With only four days to go, Jack was beginning to think they might actually be able to do this. Granted, only the joy of messing with Daniel's head had got him out of that office and he'd had a very uncomfortable walk to the privacy of his own office but the point was, he had walked away.
He paused with one hand on the locker room door as his 2IC hurried toward him.
"Sir, do you think you could have a word with General Hammond about my doing some reactor tests? I can promise him that nothing unexpected will happen."
"Bored, Carter?"
"Yes, sir."
"You and everyone else being held hostage by a power-mad botanist." He frowned as two of Siler's tech people staggered by under the weight of what looked very much like a karaoke machine. "I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you, sir."
When she glanced from him to the door, he frowned. "You weren't on your way in, were you?"
"No, sir."
He grinned. "You know, Carter, we've been sharing a shower for almost five years now. You should be past blushing about it." Snickering a little at her indignant sputter, he pushed the door open and headed for his locker.
The place was a little steamy but the shower wasn't running and the dressing area was empty. One of the other members of the team had clearly just been and gone. Probably Teal'c. It was still a bit early for Daniel. Jack shrugged out of his shirt, threw it over a hook and turned to see Daniel standing no more than four feet away, blinking myopically at him. He was wrapped in a damp towel, short hair wet and spiky -- a living, breathing invitation to sin. In Jack's personal dictionary, the definition under temptation read: Daniel Jackson. Under desire: Daniel Jackson. Under beauty: Daniel Jackson. Under if I don't get that sweet skin in my hands ASAP I'm going to kill something: Daniel Jackson.
"Jack?"
The towel was hanging low on his hips, clinging damply to his thighs. "Jesus."
Daniel grinned. "Yeah? You don't look anything like your pictures… Jack!"
He couldn't remember crossing the space between them but his hands were on Daniel's waist, fingers digging into bare, heated skin. So much for them actually being able to do anything but surrender to the inevitable. Tightening his grip, he dragged the other man hard up against him. //Hard. Good word,// he thought, bent his head and clamped his mouth to the spot on Daniel's throat guaranteed to melt any resistance.
Not that resistance appeared to be currently in Daniel's 'I can say blow job in twenty-three languages' vocabulary, he noted with glee as strong fingers clutched at his ass.
Then, just as hard became applicable to certain other parts of the situation and his thumbs were rubbing teasing lines under the edge of Daniel's towel, he remembered where they were. Given the level of boredom now being exhibited by SGC personnel -- he shuddered at the memory of the karaoke machine -- he'd be willing to bet his pension that who-was-spending-time-with-who in the shower had become the gossip of choice. And the only thing that moved faster through a closed environment than gossip was last Wednesday's slightly dubious lasagna.
Jack had a sudden vision of someone pointedly asking Dr. Jackson if he'd spent the morning soaping Colonel O'Neill's back. Unfortunately, there was no way of knowing whether witheringly sarcastic Daniel or pre-occupied answers-without-thinking Daniel would field the question.
"Uh…Jack? You still with me here?"
"Just had a thought…"
"I can fix that."
He didn't move quite fast enough as clever fingers slid in through a suddenly open fly and closed around his erection. "Fuck… Daniel…"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, fuck Daniel."
The low, throaty voice lifted all the hairs on the back of Jack's neck. As far as physical reactions were concerned it was like throwing jet fuel on a fire, it was like jumping without a chute, it was like… hell, it was like the most beautiful man in the galaxy had just offered him the most incredible ass in the galaxy to with as he would.
"I'm tired of being the one who always says no, Jack." The fingers tightened and stroked as the tongue emerged to sweep a moist line over the full lower lip. "I don't want to wait another four days."
"Daniel…"
"Hmmmm?"
"No." Somehow, he managed to say it like he meant it.
What!?" The fingers retreated.
Jack gritted his teeth. This was why he got the big bucks. So that when Daniel stopped being the pursued and became the pursuer, he'd have balls enough to keep them from doing anything truly stupid. Well, maybe not exactly why he got the big bucks…
"Listen Daniel, it's not that I don't want to…" And the evidence of that was
peering out through his open fly. "…it's just that with everyone CB-ed by this
damned quarantine this level's seeing a lot of use. Someone had to have seen you
come in here.
Blue eyes narrowed. "Janet. And some guys…"
"Yeah. Carter and some guys saw me."
They were standing two feet apart now. Daniel had his hands on his hips and the tent in his towel no longer looked as though it could sleep twelve. "Are you telling me that people will assume we're doing each other because we're alone in a shower together?"
"Yes." Jack tucked in and very carefully zipped himself up.
"But when we're alone in my office? Or your office? Or in a tent off world? Or…"
"Not necessarily. Showers make people think about sex."
"Only people who watch too much prison porn," Daniel snorted.
Jack sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Think about that a minute Daniel; where are we and how many Marines are stuck in here with us?"
"Good point."
"So…"
"So. Four more days."
"Daniel?"
"Yeah?"
He knew he sounded like he was begging. He didn't care. "Clothes…"
"All right, let's look at the facts. In the last twenty-four hours, Daniel has gone up one side and down the other of the Archeology and Linguistics department. He's given them hell for sloppy cataloguing, he's prioritized all outstanding projects, he's sent three people back to Teal'c for training in remedial Gou'ald, and he's bullied Airman Rogers into finally finishing her 'French for the Gallically Challenged' correspondence course."
"Daniel doesn't bully, Janet…"
"Daniel is fully capable of using his looks and charm and that sweet little smile like a battering ram, as you very well know." A speculative glance from under long lashes. "Or are you trying to tell me you wanted to eat that sheep's eye?"
Sam shuddered. "Well no, but we'd been having a great time at that international fair and it seemed important to him so…"
"I rest my case," Janet snorted, her opinion that Daniel had the other members of SG-1 wrapped around his little finger clear on her face. Remembering the way the sheep's eye had looked at her as she lifted it to her mouth, Sam wasn't so sure Janet was wrong.
"Now in that same twenty-four hours," Janet continued, as they turned toward the briefing room, "Colonel O'Neill, while teaching unscheduled lessons in his own sneaky brand of hand to hand, has sent three marines, two airmen, and Major Cooper to the infirmary with a variety injuries ranging from pulled muscles, to compacted finger joints, to the major's dislocated shoulder. The major admitted he should have tapped out about forty seconds before he actually did," she clarified as Sam's eyebrows rose. "Not the colonel's fault. And I'm not actually complaining because god knows I can use something to do. I even finished that paper I was working on -- Mapping the Results of Multiple Electric Shock on the Human Brain; Daniel was very helpful by the way. But the point I'm making…"
"I was wondering," Sam muttered.
Janet ignored her. "…is that both boys are definitively sublimating. Something happened in that shower yesterday morning."
"They weren't in there long enough for anything to happen. And I saw Daniel when he came out. Trust me, he didn't look fulfilled."
"Then nothing happened and that's the problem."
"Janet, Daniel looked miserable." She worked the edge of the file folder she carried between two fingers and came to a decision. "I think we've lost sight of the fact that trying to maintain some level of professionalism while trapped in the mountain is hard on them, that as their friends we should be trying to make this quarantine a go a little easier not spend our time speculating about their levels of frustration and how soon they're going to crack."
"Yes, but…"
"They're our friends, Janet."
"Yes, but…"
"I think we should do what we can to make these last three days a little easier on them."
"Yes, but…"
"Janet, Daniel looked miserable."
Janet sighed. "And Colonel O'Neill?"
"I didn't see Colonel O'Neill but he's a big boy, he can take care of himself."
"One…" The doctor raised a finger. "… Daniel is thirty-five years old and two…" A second finger joined the first. "…we both know he's also a big boy. As I recall, we had a long, inebriated, and slightly wistful conversation about it."
"Janet…"
"Sorry," Janet muttered dropping her voice as they moved into the eavesdropping range of the SF on duty outside the briefing room. "Just trying to bring this conversation back to the gutter where it belongs."
Rolling her eyes, Sam reached past the shorter woman and pulled open the door. Daniel was sitting alone on the far side of the table reading his briefing notes, one hand wrapped around a mug of coffee. He glanced up when the door opened, his expression flicking through hopeful, disappointed, and welcoming so quickly that had Sam not been looking for it she would have only seen the welcoming smile. The sound of familiar footsteps coming up fast behind them had her grab Janet's shoulder and move them both further into the room before Colonel O'Neill could run them over.
"Carter, Doc."
"Colonel."
"Colonel."
"Daniel."
"Jack."
There'd been a growl in Colonel O'Neill's voice and a dark invitation in Daniel's. It was quite possibly the most purely sexual greeting Sam had ever heard. Her gaze snapped down to Janet's face, unsurprised to find the doctor wearing her "oh mama!" expression.
The two women locked eyes for a heartbeat, nodded simultaneously, and silently rounded the table to flank Daniel. Sam pulled in her chair, looked up, and made a mental note to steer clear of Colonel O'Neill for the rest of the day. Or month. Or possibly the rest of her life. He was going to order her to move. She knew it. A man who could face down overwhelming odds with a smile and a smart-ass comment and he didn't have the guts to give Janet a simple one word order.
"So, Daniel," she said brightly before the colonel could speak, "would you be able to spare me some time after the briefing? SG-7 brought back some bits and pieces of something machined that I've been trying to put together and I may be having a 'not seeing the forest for the trees' problem. I could use a little input from someone who can see the trees."
"Sure. I'd be happy too…"
"And this evening," Janet pulled Daniel's attention around to her -- moving it right past the glowering colonel on the far side of the table, "I was wondering if you could give Cassandra a hand with some studying. She's got a history mid-term coming up and although she has no trouble with the facts, she has bit of a -- let's say, non-Earth centric way of interpreting them."
"Uh, sure but the quarantine…"
Janet waved it off. "Between the phone and the internet you two will manage."
Sam sneaked a peak at the colonel. She watched his mouth open. Then she watched it close again as Teal'c pushed past him and sat just as General Hammond came into the room.
The general took a second look at the seating arrangements and waited pointedly for Colonel O'Neill to actually sit. If Sam hadn't known better, she'd have sworn he was trying not to smile.
"All right people, let's get on with this…"
"Dr. Jackson, it has come to my attention that it's been some time since you've been to the range. With only two days left in the quarantine, I think now would be the perfect time to remedy that. Sergeant Conner is waiting for you."
"Sir, I usually work with Daniel on the range."
"Yes, colonel, I know, but you haven't been and I consider Dr. Jackson too valuable a member of this command to allow it to slide any longer. Besides," the general continued before either man could voice the protests he could clearly see, "I have some things I need to go over with you this morning. And this afternoon…" He picked up a stack of file folders and set it emphatically down directly in front of the colonel. "…these are our new transfers. Since you have the time, I'd like you to familiarize yourself with them and give me your opinion."
"Daniel!"
Jack was sure Daniel had heard him. He'd seen the younger man's expression change, seen him lean forward in the elevator, seen the door close as someone inside -- he hadn't seen a face but probably Teal'c given the size -- hit the buttons.
What the hell was going on?
If it wasn't General Hammond riding his ass about all and sundry, it was ol' Doc Fraiser suddenly deciding today was the day to do an ultra sound on his knees -- and he really didn't want to know what Carter had been referring to when she'd so emphatically said, "No, Janet!" on the other side of the curtain. By the time Fraiser finished, Daniel was incommunicado in the "clean room" the 'diggers' had set up for particularly sensitive artifacts. By the time by the time someone kicked Daniel out and forced him to eat, he was busy running a briefing for SG-5 who were going on the 'just checking back in mission' to P9H 477. By the time the briefing ended, Teal'c was dragging Daniel off for what were probably very good Jaffa reasons.
Tough.
Except when he got to Teal'c quarters the little 'meditation in progress' medallion that Cassie had made him a couple of years ago as an art project was hanging over the door handle. Jack glared at it, then glared at a pair of airmen heading down the hall just because they were there.
Now, it was almost eleven pm and except for those five minutes together in the General's office at 0830, he hadn't seen Daniel all day. If he didn't know better, he'd say the whole base was conspiring to keep them apart.
He didn't think he could go much longer without some kind of a Daniel-fix. Which definitely made him a pathetic excuse for an ex-special ops, hero of known space but who the fuck cared. Sure, half an hour alone in a secure venue would be great but, at this point, he'd settle for a slightly pissy, "Don't you have work to do?" or "Don't touch that!
Enough was enough.
Grabbing the receiver, he hit the speed dial for Daniel's office for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last half an hour.
"Jackson."
"Finally. You alone?"
"Yeah… Jack, I don't think those temple engravings are a history. I had this epiphany while I was meditating with Teal'c and I think they're actually allegory. It really does say what I was thinking it couldn't be saying because I was assuming it was supposed be fact but…"
Years of practice allowed him to slip an order in when Daniel paused for breath. "Don't go anywhere. I'm on my way down."
Five seconds tops between hanging up and heading out his door. Where he ran into a familiar face…
"Carter."
"Colonel."
Why the hell wasn't she in her lab? Or asleep? But since she wasn't, it was perfectly natural, perfectly normal that she fall into step beside him. They weren't the West Wing but they'd done a lot of walking and talking over the years. He forced himself to sound politely interested. "You're up late."
"Too bored to sleep, sir. You too?"
"You might say that." He wouldn't. Not too bored anyway.
"So, where you headed?"
"Daniel's…" He froze and cursed that whole mouth-before-brain problem. The hiding of his and Daniel's relationship aside -- which ultimately was for Carter's benefit so she have nothing to tell should the wrong people ask -- he wasn't used to lying to his 2IC. He didn't like lying to her. But telling her he was going to Daniel's office could only result in her saying…
"Mind if I come along?"
And he had no believable reason for saying no. No reason at all to keep Carter from accompanying him to the office of their mutual friend and team mate. SG-1 was close. They hung out. Everyone knew that.
"Teal'c tells me Daniel had some kind of epiphany about those temple engravings and I'm so bored even a lecture on cross-cultural allegories sounds interesting."
Which is exactly what they'd get if they both showed up. Jack shuddered. "You know, Carter, I just remembered I should really have a look at the last of the files General Hammond loaded on me."
"At this hour, sir?"
"Well, you know what they say…" Something strange about Carter's smile. But his own was a little forced so he supposed he wasn't one to judge. "…no rest for the wicked." Turning on one heel, he headed back toward his own office. "Have fun. Learn lots."
To his surprise, she fell into step beside him again. "A little more fun than I can handle on my own, sir. If you're not going down…"
//Apparently not any time soon; thank you, Major.//
"…then maybe I'll see if Sergeant Siler has something lying around I can disassemble."
Yes!
"Good night, Colonel."
"Carter."
He had the phone in his hand almost before his office door had closed.
"Jackson."
"Good. You're still there."
"I'm ass deep in this translation, Jack. Where else would I be? You know, this is fascinating stuff; I'm almost convinced I've uncovered a King Arthur/immortal king parallel. Pre-Mallory of course, but…"
"This time, I'm really on my way down."
He was pretty sure he'd shaved at least two seconds off hanging up and getting out the door.
"You're up late, Colonel."
He bared some teeth although it wasn't exactly a smile. "So are you, Doc."
"I like to walk around during those rare occasions when this place has pretty much shut down." Janet waved a hand around at the empty corridors. "It's peaceful in a matt gray kind of a way. So, where are you headed?"
Not this time…
"Just going to the little colonel's room." He turned the corner away from the elevators and paused by the door marked MEN. "If you'll excuse me…"
She grinned and waved. He had a piss because he was there, washed his hands, and just generally spent three minutes congratulating himself. When he stepped back into the corridor, Doctor Fraiser was just coming along the corridor.
"You waited for me?"
Janet snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, Colonel. I met Corporal Potter at the elevators while you were inside. We had a bit of a confidential chat, he left, and here you are back again."
Jack looked suspiciously down at the doctor. He'd played enough poker with Janet to know she was a skilled liar but he couldn't think of a single reason she'd be lying now. He was just being paranoid. That was all.
"You're getting paranoid in your old age."
Great. She was adding mind reading to her other scary skills.
"So…"
The smile she flashed up at him bordered on flirtatious and he spent a moment thinking about how much less complicated his life would be had they ever done something about that gentle sparkage. Had there never been Daniel and the major voltage the two of them created. //Ah hell, uncomplicated is for wussies.//
"…where to now?"
With a sinking heart, he realized she was going to stick to him like a burr. He rubbed one hand back through his hair and silently admitted defeat. "I don't know where you're going, Doc, but I'm going back to my office."
"Well, try to get some sleep, Colonel. You're looking a bit…" A speculative and not entirely professional cock of her head. "…frazzled."
One hand on his door, he managed a parting smile. "Just wishing this quarantine was over."
"Aren't we all." She waved again as the door closed, leaving her in the corridor and him in his office.
"Not as much as I am," he muttered reaching for the phone.
"Well?"
"I think that's done it." Janet shoved both hands into the pockets of her lab coat and rocked back on her heels. "If I was a betting woman, and I am, I'd say that Colonel O'Neill was safely tucked in his office for the night."
"Good. Daniel's working so he won't be going anywhere." Sam ran over the situation once more in her head and nodded. "I think we can call it a day."
"And thank God, any god who wasn't actually Gou'ald, that there's only one more day to get them through."
"You know, we might have been wasting our time. Daniel's so into this breakthrough he made, I doubt the colonel would have been able to interest him in much else."
"Please." Janet snorted. "First of all, it's not like we don't have time to waste. Second, Daniel's a guy -- an admittedly sensitive, enlightened, gorgeous guy but still a guy -- and so you can't count on him choosing scholarship over sex."
Sam frowned. "What does gorgeous have to do with it?"
"Nothing. I just felt like mentioning it. And third, don't underestimate just how charming Jack O'Neill can be when he wants something."
Right hand still busy making notes, Daniel reached for the ringing phone with his left. "Jackson."
"Daniel, I'm trapped in my office. Every time I try to come down to see you, someone decides it's time to go walkies with Colonel O'Neill."
"Someone?"
"First Carter, then Janet."
"Bring them along. This stuff about the immortal king is fascinating, Jack. The people who built this temple had legends remarkably similar to those in Britain concerning a great king sleeping away the ages in company with his warriors but who would return with the ringing of a bell in a time of great need."
"Yeah. Well, speaking of great need, I wasn't on my way to see you for a lesson in history…"
"Mythology."
"Whatever. I was hoping for a little personal time."
"Jack… rules."
"Daniel… nine days. And maybe I just wanted to, you know, talk."
"What, again?"
Jack's shudder was so pronounced, he actually heard it through the phone. "Not talk. Just, you know, talk…"
"Okay. Sure." Daniel shuffled through the digital photos for the next in sequence. The whole immortal king discovery wouldn't have been amazing at all except that the culture that had built the temple was not Celtic derived but vaguely Polynesian. "We're talking now."
"So we are."
The throaty growl in Jack's voice drew his attention up off a worn carving of what could have been a sword in a stone. "Jack…"
"Shall I tell you what I'd like to do to you?"
Daniel swallowed but found the good sense to say, "This isn't a secure line."
"The hell it isn't. All those years in special ops and I didn't learn to disrupt phone surveillance?"
Feeling his way around the verb tenses, Daniel frowned. "Did you?"
"You bet your ass, I did. And speaking of your ass have I ever told you how hard it is for me to keep my hands off it?"
He had to grin at that. "I've never noticed you trying particularly hard, Jack."
"Friendly pats. Extremely butch football players on national television put more heat behind it than I do when we're working -- but what I want to do… I want to come up behind you in the hall outside your office and grab a cheek in each hand, fingers working the muscles, thumbs tracing the cleft as deeply as too much clothing allows. Then I want to use that grip to steer you inside and across the room, maybe bumping your ass with my crotch to keep you moving when you seem reluctant. You reluctant, Daniel?"
"Oh no…" Horny, aroused, intrigued; yes. Reluctant, no. He'd had six months to discover how good Jack was with his mouth but aural sex was a whole new skill set. The man never ceased to amaze him.
"Just before your thighs bang against your worktable, I take my hands off your ass long enough to gently bend you over until you're braced against your forearms then I reach around you and undo your pants -- belt, button, zipper, next thing you know, they're around your ankles and your boxers follow an instant later."
"I… I… hope you at least closed the door behind us."
"Nope. Anybody walking by can see your beautiful ass but I'm the only one who gets to touch. Even you don't touch until I tell you that you can. Just me."
Daniel swallowed, hard, and closed his eyes, his breathing suddenly ragged. The thought of being exposed -- presented -- in such a way was an incredible turn on. Safe in fantasy, he could indulge an exhibitionist streak he didn't even know he had. Wondered how Jack had known. If he had any brain cells left when this was over, he'd have to ask. "So touch."
"Oh don't worry, Daniel, I'm touching. I'm skimming my hands over you just lightly enough that all those fine golden hairs stand on end. The moment you start to shiver, I drop to my knees and follow the path of my hands with my tongue. Up the back of your right thigh first, then your right cheek. Long, slow, wet strokes. Left thigh. Left cheek. When I finally run my tongue lightly up the crack of your ass, you make that gasping moan that turns me on so much… yeah, that's the one."
His right hand clenched and unclenched against his thigh. The pressure of his cock against the inside of his pants hovered somewhere between pleasure and pain. "Jack, I have to…"
"Not until I tell you that you can, Daniel."
He bit back another moan and pushed his chair far enough out from the desk that his knees were clear of the cubby hole and he could spread them apart.
"I'm spreading your cheeks and I'm burying my face in your ass, running just the tip of my tongue from all the way up from the base of your balls to the small of your back. And again. And again…"
"Jack…"
"What, Daniel? What is it you want me to do?"
"Fuck…"
"Later. Tell me what you want right now."
"Your tongue…" The first time Jack had actually done this to him, he'd come so hard he'd nearly blacked out. "…fuck…"
"Come on, Daniel. Tell me."
The heat in Jack's voice was frying IQ points. "Fuck me with… your tongue."
"Atta boy. First I lick around the hole, getting it nice and wet. You're quivering now. Moaning almost constantly…"
He was biting down on his right hand, the one he wasn't allowed touch to himself with, in order to prevent that very thing -- not that it was working very well.
"…so finally I take pity on you and thrust inside."
Daniel jerked in his chair. He could feel the long, limber length of Jack's tongue up in his body. "Oh god… Jack…"
"I keep thrusting until I feel your thighs start to tremble and hips begin to jerk, then with in one motion, I'm out and on my feet. I don't bother dropping drawers, I just unzip and spit on my hand, slicking my cock. Hard and rough, Daniel. You ready?"
He might've said yes. He might've only whimpered. He wasn't sure.
"I'm holding your hips, not even bothering to guide myself in. You're so relaxed from the tongue fucking you open to me immediately and in one long plunge I bury myself balls deep. God, Daniel… so hot… so tight… As I pound into you… you wrap one hand around your cock…"
Button. Zipper. His boxers were wet with pre-come. His cock jerked as he grabbed it.
"…you begin to pump…"
Oh yeah. He pumped to the rhythm of Jack's breathing, knowing Jack was breathing in time to his own hand working his own cock. Caught in the fantasy, his hips moved to the rhythm of Jack's cock pounding into his ass. Same rhythm.
"Daniel… Danny… god…"
Jack's voice panting his name into his ear. Like a prayer. Like a benediction. "I want… I want… to kiss… you."
"Not… this time… Daniel. Next… oh god… fuck… time."
The familiar sound of Jack reaching the edge, sent Daniel over and, barely remembering where he was, he somehow managed to lower the volume on an incoherent spill of words where "Jack!" "Fuck!" and vowels figured prominently.
"Jesus, Jack," he gasped when cognitive function returned. "Where'd you learn to do that?"
Even Jack's breathing sounded smug. "Sara and I spent a lot of nights apart. Sometimes, I'd call her and we'd uh…"
"Yeah. I get the picture. Remind me to thank her next time I see her."
"Daniel…"
"Kidding." He had a sudden vision of how he must look, sprawled in his chair, face flushed, sweat running down his neck, cock limp in his fist. "If someone should come in now…"
"Fucking shoot them."
"Right."
"One more day."
"I think that'll sustain me." Scooting his chair closer to the desk, he reached for the tissues.
"So, you heading back to your translations?"
A quick glance down at the engravings showed them as being distinctly more salacious than they were previously. "I doubt I could translate pig Latin right at the moment."
"Then my work here is done. Sleep sweet, Danny-boy."
"I ove-lay ou-ya, ootay, ack-Jay." He hung up the phone without saying goodbye. It wasn't a word he much liked in any of his twenty-three languages.
Oh wait. Wenty-tay our-fay.
With only one day remaining in the quarantine, Teal'c had to admit he was beginning to find the situation between O'Neill and DanielJackon intriguingly complex. And just a little confusing. Having completed his own series of exercises designed to maintain his body in peak fighting condition, he came out of the weight room to find O'Neill on one treadmill and DanielJackson on the other. Because of the room's shape, DanielJackson's treadmill had been set exactly in front of O'Neill's.
Both men were running full out and, from the amount of sweat soaking both t-shirts, had been for some time.
Teal'c paused by O'Neill's machine, followed his gaze to the muscles of DanielJackson's ass rounding and releasing as he ran and acknowledged it was a motivating sight. Although, from the desperate expression on his brother's face motivating might not be the correct word.
His expression was that of a man who had not received his heart's desire for far, far too long.
Teal'c recognized the need for discretion. O'Neill was in a command position and the perception must not arise that he was, in any way, giving one under his command preferential treatment. However, there was a difference between discretion and masochistic self-denial.
Right here and right now, O'Neill wanted DanielJackson.
Teal'c inhaled deeply, nostril's flaring.
And it was obvious that DanielJackson wanted O'Neil. Neither had any pressing responsibilities at this time. Why did they not find a secure place and relieve the tension? Was it possible they were unaware of the perpetually broken security camera by the storerooms on level 21?
"It's on my list," Sergeant Siler had replied when he'd inquired about it. "But it's at the bottom of the list. I have that fixed and there's a whole lot of people who'll be after my head." When Teal'c had raised a questioning brow, he'd glanced around and added. "It's SGC assignation alley." The raising of the other eyebrow had elicited hand motions that had made the whole thing clear.
No. O'Neill, at least, had to know.
Their reasons for not seeking release had to be more complicated than merely a lack of opportunity. Of all the many races he'd met through out the galaxy, only the Tauri so excelled at complicating their lives.
"Help you out with something,… big guy?"
He nodded toward his brother, panting now from the exertion of his run. "Thank you, O'Neill, but no. I suspect that I must speak to an authority on this problem."
"Suit… yourself."
As he walked toward the door, he noticed that DanielJackson's treadmill had been set at a much higher speed than O'Neill's. The younger man was running as hard as he could but going nowhere nor increasing the distance between himself and the man behind him. The symbolism was blatant. He doubted either man had noticed.
He was pleased to run into Major Carter and Dr. Fraiser almost immediately upon leaving the room. After greeting both women, he turned his attention to the doctor and requested her assistance.
"Are you ill, Teal'c?"
"No, Dr. Fraiser, I require information about an intimate matter. Major Carter, are you in distress?"
Major Carter waved a hand in his general direction, a motion he had come to learn meant dismissal, and choked out, "No. No, I'm fine."
He wasn't so sure. Her skin had flushed a deep red -- a shade he had previously only ever seen DanielJackson achieve -- and she appeared to be choking. "If you are sure…?"
"Sure, yeah. Fine. Ow! Janet!"
"I'm sorry, Sam. Was that your foot? Teal'c…" The doctor's small fingers were cool on his arm although it appeared her cheeks were also warmer than was usual. "…I think we should take a discussion of intimate matters to my office."
He inclined his head. "If you think that is best."
"Yes, I do. Sam will you be okay…?"
There was clearly more to the question that was spoken aloud. Teal'c wondered why Major Carter would not be okay while quarantined in a secure military facility. Still, she was a formidable warrior and would no doubt be able to take care of herself. If she needed assistance, he knew for a fact that Sergeant Siler would be more than willing to help. When she indicated she would be fine -- although her color had, if anything darkened -- he turned and followed Dr. Fraiser down the hall.
"Jack… Jack!"
He lifted his head from his crossed arms and stared blearily Daniel. //Thank god he's stopped running.// He didn't think he could take much more of that ass. So close. So far. So not in his hands… Shaking himself free of the accompanying image, he stepped off the treadmill -- stopped for the last three minutes while he tried to decide whether or not he was going to pass out -- and ended up far too close to a sweaty archeologist. The son of a bitch wasn't even breathing particularly hard. "What is it, Daniel?"
"Remember when I said that last night would sustain me?"
Jesus. Daniel's eyes only ever got that dark when he was aroused. Really aroused. Conscious of the security camera -- which Daniel had his back to, the sneaky bastard -- Jack somehow managed a relatively calm, "I remember."
"I was wrong."
Shaky grin. "Now that's something I don't hear you admit every day."
"While I was running all I could feel was you running behind me and all I could think of was how much I wanted to be caught. Are you feeling sustained, Jack?"
Daniel's voice was a low purr that licked over his skin leaving trails of heat and want behind it. He swallowed and pulled the towel from around his neck, dangling it from one hand like a terry cloth shield. "Not even a little."
"Too bad we can't do something about it." Back arched, damp t-shirt stretched against solid pecs -- all the security camera could see was two guys talking while one worked the kinks out.
Right. Working the kinks in was more like it. When Daniel got tired of being the responsible half of the duo, he swung to the other side with a vengeance. "Daniel, rules…"
"Oh so it's okay for you to instigate some mind blowing phone sex but if I want to instigate… you go all Colonel O'Neill on me?"
In spite of the way all cognitive function was plummeting south, Jack attempted to review the last ten days. First neither of them were interested. Then they both were but the rules held. Then he pushed a couple of times but Daniel held firm… //Damnit, Jack, do not think of Daniel, held, and firm, all at once if you want to get to the end of this!// Then Daniel pushed and he… resisted. Then he did that phone thing…
All else being equal, it was Daniel's turn.
"What do you have in mind?" No point in resisting until he knew what was involved.
"Storeroom. Level 21. Meet me there in fifteen minutes. Come down from level 20, I'll come up from 22." Dark eyes swept over Jack with enough heat to burn and Daniel's nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply.
After the workout they'd had, Jack could smell both himself and Daniel. A heavy male scent -- animal, raunchy. He wasted a moment wondering if that's what Teal'c had been sniffing earlier, wasted another slightly disturbing moment wondering why, and stopped caring about either as Daniel's next words short circuited all hope of rational thought.
"Change," Daniel purred. "Don't shower."
Holy Mary Mother of God.
Screw the rules. Resistance was useless.
The treadmills had been stopped for a couple of minutes, the hum of their motors no longer a part of the ambient noise in this section of the mountain. Hands in her pockets, Sam paced six strides up the corridor, seven strides back and tried to decide which of her teammates she'd drag off. She had, if she said so herself, a good solid plan for dealing with either of them, the question now became, who did she want to spend the next couple of hours with. If they emerged one at a time, no problem. But if they came out together…
//Okay, Sam. Let's not even consider going there.//
Had Janet still been around, she'd have taken the colonel, secure in the knowledge that Janet would intercept any invitation by the colonel for Daniel to tag along and soak up some military experiences. Without Janet, the odds went to Daniel since it was unlikely Colonel O'Neill would be willing to spend a few hours listening to them plug technological levels against Gou'ald activity into a spreadsheet whether Daniel invited him along or not.
Daniel then.
On the bright side, they were getting a remarkable amount of boring detail dealt with, the gate had never been so clean, and they'd finally cleared the last of those stupid pop-up menus off the computer. Trust the Pentagon to spend seven hundred dollars on a hammer and then pick up their operating system at Future Shop.
"Major Carter!"
"Airman."
Breathing a little heavily, the earnest young woman came to a halt, visibly tried to remember if she was supposed to salute or not, and settled for, "Ma'am, General Hammond wants to see you in gate control, Ma'am."
"Now?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
A glance at the door to the gym. Should she go get Janet?
"Ma'am?"
Apparently, there was no time.
"Lead on, Airman."
The boys would just have to keep themselves out of trouble for a little while.
//The boys?!// Sam sighed as she followed the airman toward the elevator. She couldn't believe she'd just referred to a full colonel, her CO, her team leader as one of "the boys". This was all Janet's fault.
"So, what can I do for you Teal'c?"
"I am confused about O'Neill and DanielJackson."
"Singly or collectively?"
"Collectively as it should be clear to anyone with even rudimentary observational skills that they are involved in a physical relationship."
Up until that point Janet had always felt that the phrase "her jaw dropped" was just that, a phrase. Suddenly realizing it was, in fact, a fairly accurate description of her current condition, she closed her mouth and managed to look up at Teal'c with professional masks more or less back in place. "How do you figure that?"
An eyebrow raised. "Very likely the same way you did."
"Ah…" Memo to self: Remember that a) Teal'c was a hundred years old and there wasn't a lot he hadn't seen and b) as First Prime of Apophis he'd commanded an army, a position calling not only for fighting ability but for observational and people skills. Technically Jaffa skills, but still…
"I understand that as O'Neill is effectively DanielJackson's commanding officer he must not be seen to show favoritism but what I do not understand is why they have been denying themselves for the last ten days even when they have had numerous opportunities to find physical release."
"Teal'c, you haven't mentioned this to anyone else have you?"
Oops. Now he looked affronted.
"I would not have mentioned it to you were I not concerned, were I not certain you already possessed the information, were you not their physician."
"What does my being their physician have to do with it?"
"All this ignoring of arousal can not be healthy. I am afraid they will do themselves an injury."
"It's only been ten days. I can pretty much guarantee that no one's ever harmed themselves with only ten days of denial." He looked as though he didn't believe her. Second memo: Remember Teal'c was also a guy. God, she'd kill to have had sex only eleven days ago. "And I can explain the denial as well."
Pulling out the tin of cookies, she set about explaining "Don't ask. Don't tell." to a six foot three, two hundred and twenty-one pound, hundred year old alien with a larval parasite in his gut. Could the day get any stranger?
They met up outside the storerooms, within the range of the broken security camera, guaranteeing no actual evidence that they'd ever been here together. Riding the buzz of his arousal, Daniel found himself unexpectedly enjoying the whole cloak and dagger aspect of the assignation.
There were seven storerooms. The first was locked although from the faint noises…
Before Daniel could stop him, Jack stepped forward and banged on the door. "Hey! What's going on in there?"
The noises stopped and an unfamiliar voice squeaked, "Inventory, sir!"
Jack rolled his eyes. "Carry on!"
"Should you be encouraging them," Daniel murmured as they hurried to storeroom two. Which was also locked.
"Seems a little hypocritical not to," Jack growled through clenched teeth as he banged on the second door.
Three more inventories, one "cleaning a spill", and a rhythmically delivered "lock seems to be jammed, sir! I'm working on it…" later and they were at the last door.
Unlocked.
For good reason. It was the smallest storeroom, packed ceiling high with cleaning supplies leaving very little room and distinct smell of bleach. When Jack looked hesitant, Daniel grabbed a handful of his uniform, threw him inside, and followed.
The door didn't lock. A problem they'd already solved.
With Jack's back pressed against the door, and his fist still wrapped in the front of his uniform, Daniel latched his mouth onto the other man's and went in for the kind of kiss that could charge the stargate. When oxygen deprivation finally forced them apart, he dragged a glassy-eyed Jack out into what passed as the middle of the room, tossed him the lube he'd had in his pocket, and panted, "Do me!" as he began unbuckling his belt.
Jack stared down at the lube like he'd never seen such a thing before and finally managed to focus on Daniel's face. "Daniel, don't you think…"
"No." Belt. Fly. Pants and boxers were around his ankles. "I'm tired of thinking!" He turned and braced himself against the door. "Just fuck me!"
"Yes sir, Dr. Jackson, sir!"
Sam stared down at the aerial photograph and shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir. But I think Daniel needs to have a look at this."
General Hammond straightened. "Jacob suggested as much when I spoke to him earlier."
"When did you speak to my father, sir?"
"About two hours ago when he downloaded this photograph."
//When did the Tok'ra get email?// Sam wondered as the general bellowed, "Airman Rogers!"
The airman jerked hard enough that her chair rolled out from her terminal. Sam suspected she was surprised that the general even knew her name. "Sir!"
"Call Dr. Jackson's office. Tell him I need to see him in the control room."
"Yes, sir!"
Sam took a quick look at her watch. //It's been twenty minutes, he's got to be back in his office by now.//
"Dr. Jackson isn't answering, sir."
//Okay, maybe not…//
"Any idea where Dr. Jackson might be, Major?"
"Last I saw him, he was in the gym with Colonel O'Neill, sir." Damn. She shouldn't have mentioned the colonel. And why was the general looking so… weary?
General Hammond ran a hand up over his head and sighed. "Airman, call the gym. See if either Dr. Jackson or Colonel O'Neill are still there."
"Yes, sir!"
They weren't.
Neither was Dr. Jackson in one of the archeology or linguistic labs.
"All right people, this is a secure military facility under a full quarantine -- don't tell me we've lost Dr. Jackson!" General Hammond glared around the control room. "Somebody must have seen him!"
"Sir?"
"What is it Sergeant?"
"I didn't see Dr. Jackson," Sergeant Davis began hesitantly, "but as I was coming on duty, I did see Colonel O'Neill heading down to level 21."
"Close enough. " Sam watched in horror as the general pivoted on one heel and headed for the door. "Come along, Major. Let's see if Colonel O'Neill has any idea of where Dr. Jackson's off to."
"There's no need for you to go chasing Colonel O'Neill, sir." Half a dozen long strides to catch up. "I'll go."
"We'll both go." He shot her an indecipherable glance. "I can use the exercise."
Janet glanced down the corridor as she followed Teal'c into the control room and was just in time to see Sam and General Hammond's back disappear in the direction of the elevators.
"So where are Major Carter and the general off to?" she asked Sergeant Davis as Teal'c stared stoically toward the stargate.
"The general's looking for Dr. Jackson and I spotted Colonel O'Neill heading for level 21 so… Doctor Fraiser?"
She barely heard the sergeant call her name. She and Teal'c turned as one and headed after the two officers.
As they passed the stairwell, Teal'c wrapped a large hand around her arm, pulling her to a stop.
"Stall them," he said, yanked open the door, and disappeared.
Stall them? Great. Hiking her skirt up above her knees and silently cursing the idiot who'd come up with the concept of A-line, she raced down the hall and skidded into the elevator just as the doors were closing.
"Dr. Fraiser?"
"Janet?"
"General Hammond. Major Carter." She smoothed down her skirt, noted Sam's slightly wild look, and turned toward the floor indicators. Twenty-eight to twenty-one; seven floors. Damn! They were at twenty-seven! Six floors. She quickly pressed all five extra indicators.
"Major!"
"What?" Glancing at the row of lights, she widened her eyes. At least she wasn't faking the blush. This had to be one of the most embarrassing things she'd ever done. Hating herself even as she did it, she allowed a hint of southern accent to creep out. "Oh, General, I'm so sorry. I was just thinking of how Cassie'd hit all the buttons at the Hyatt that time we went to Denver and I guess without realizing…" She finished off with a bit of hand waving and did her best not to look at Sam. Whose mouth was open.
General Hammond merely sighed. "It's been a long eight days, hasn't it Doctor."
Well, that she could whole-heartedly agree with. "Yes sir, it has."
"You haven't seen Dr. Jackson, have you?"
"Not recently, sir. No."
Even with the general's thumb on the close-door button, those extra stops took some time. Enough time? Janet had no idea. Deep in a one-sided although animated discussion of the yearly medical reports, she followed her CO and her best friend out onto level 21.
It was a big level. With any luck they could keep the general wandering around until Teal'c had time to get the boys clear. //I take my eyes off them for ten minutes…//
Unfortunately, luck seemed to be elsewhere as right out of the elevator they ran into a Marine and one of her nurses and, from the look of the lipstick the Marine was wearing on his earlobe, a total shattering of a least one fraternization rule.
"Corporal. Lieutenant. I don't suppose you've seen Colonel O'Neill."
"No sir!"
Janet started breathing again.
"Are you sure, Corporal? He was seen on this level."
"Haven't seen him, sir." Janet could see the corporal's arm quiver as he tried not to rub the lipstick off. "We… I… heard him though, sir."
Crap.
"Where?"
The corporal was caught between a general now and colonel later. Janet didn't envy him the decision.
"He was by the storerooms, sir."
Oops. Wrong decision. General Hammond might be able to send his ass to Antarctica but Jack had been Special Ops. Safely behind the general, Janet caught the corporal's eye and drew a quick line across her throat. He blanched.
She shot Sam what she hoped was a reassuring look as they hurried to catch up.
Storerooms one through six were open. Storeroom seven was closed.
"Colonel O'Neill!"
In Janet's professional opinion, the noise from inside sounded distinctly strangled.
"General Hammond, it just occurred to me, if I could take another look at that photograph…"
"Not now, Major. Colonel O'Neill! Open this door!"
Janet grabbed for the handle before the general could. "It seems to be jammed, sir. We should send for Sergeant Siler!"
"Doctor…"
Out of ideas, she allowed his gesture to move her out of the way. As he grabbed the handle and began to shove, she mouthed "We have to trust in Teal'c!" at Sam and received a silent but understandably confused, "What the hell are you talking about?" in reply.
General Hammond put his shoulder to the door, shoved it open, and reached for the light.
In the years since she'd joined the Stargate program, Sam had seen a number of amazing things -- scenes of great beauty, scenes of great terror, and a growing number of scenes that were more difficult to categorize. This, was definitely one of the later.
There, in the center of the small storeroom, cleaning supplies upended around them, stood Teal'c. Just visible under each arm were the disheveled heads of Colonel Jack O'Neill and Dr. Daniel Jackson. They were both looking more than a little rumpled although that was hardly unexpected given their positions and the way they were struggling. The room smelled very strongly of bleach.
"I assume there's an explanation for this?"
The tone of General Hammond's voice was so flatly expressionless that Sam actually tore her eyes off the tableau in the storeroom to glance at his face. It was as expressionless as his voice although a muscle seemed to be jumping in his jaw.
"Of course, General Hammond." Teal'c's voice, on the other hand, was calm, measured, and just a little strained given that he had two grown men held firmly between biceps and armpits. "I was instructing Colonel O'Neill and DanielJackson in a Jaffa fighting technique."
"In a storeroom?"
"It is a technique designed to be used in close quarter fighting."
"With the lights out?"
"One does not always wish to turn the lights on when one is infiltrating a Jaffa stronghold."
"And the bleach?"
A number of plastic bottles had been upended.
"Collateral damage."
"I see."
Sam had just managed to prevent a whole series of near hysterical giggles from escaping by running quadratic equations in her head when Janet erupted into a sudden coughing fit. //Don't look at Janet… Oh God, don't look at Teal'c… or the general…// The shelf of cleaning supplies just inside the door had fourteen bottles on six shelves. Six fourteens were eight-four. The square root of eighty four was nine point one six five… //Oh hell, I'm not going to make it.//
Fortunately, Janet got herself under control. "Sorry, sir," she gasped, eyes streaming. "I think it's the bleach. If I might make a suggestion… Since Daniel and the colonel both seem to be turning slightly purple, perhaps Teal'c should release them."
To Sam's surprise, the general actually seemed to be giving that some thought.
After a long moment, he nodded. "Teal'c…"
Both men hit the floor with audible thuds.
"Dr. Jackson, when you've gotten cleaned up, I'd like your assistance in the control room."
Daniel managed a weak wave that Sam assumed the general took as assent since he continued speaking.
"Colonel O'Neill, as you'll be doing the next orientation for new personnel, I'd like to see a welcoming speech on my desk by 14:30."
Flat on his back, the colonel wheezed out a faint, "Yes, sir."
"Teal'c, keep up the good work."
"Thank you, General Hammond."
"You seem to showing a distinct sensitivity to that bleach, Dr. Fraiser. You should have that cough looked at."
"Yes, sir," Janet gasped out from behind the hand covering her mouth.
"Better do it now, while things are still quiet. Once this quarantine ends I expect things to return to normal around here. Major Carter, you and I should return to the control room."
"Yes, sir."
She fell into step beside him, heard Janet's heels following, and wondered what the general was thinking. Had he stressed the word normal or had her overactive imagination placed the emphasis? As they stepped into the elevator, she could see the muscle jumping in the general's jaw once again.
"Major Carter…"
Oh no. What had she done?
"…if you're speaking to your father before I am, tell Jacob I owe him a drink."
"Teal'c…"
"No thanks are necessary, O'Neill. You would have done the same for me."
"Teal'c, we…"
"Say no more, DanielJackson,." He raised his hands, and smiled as both his brothers fixated a little nervously on the motion. "As I have no need to ask…" He'd pushed open the door as O'Neill had been silencing DaneilJackson's screams of completion by the simple expedient of shoving his tongue down the younger man's throat. "…you have no reason to tell."
"I feel like we owe you an explanation, big guy."
"Of what?"
"Of what you walked in on…"
Teal'c smiled and stepped out into the corridor. "I am familiar with the procedure," he said pointedly as he closed the door.
"He's familiar with the procedure?" Daniel repeated weakly.
Jack shook his head. "I'm not asking."
"Thank God that's over. " Rummaging in her purse for her car keys, Janet watched Colonel O'Neill and Daniel arguing beside the colonel's truck and sighed. "You know, I would have thrown myself naked into Daniel's arms but I never got the chance."
"You'll never get the chance," Sam snorted.
"Yeah, life sucks."
"Janet, we just spent eight days obsessing about the sex life of two of our best friends -- we really need to get out more."
"I hear you, hon." Finding her keys, she unlocked the door to her van, wrinkled her nose at the smell, and sighed again. "What's the definition of a military biscotti?"
"I have no idea."
"A box of donuts left in a van that's been parked in the sun for eight days."
Sam sniffed and backed up a step. "Don't even think of mentioning that to one of the cooks, okay? I swear they think a western sandwich involves both the horse and the saddle." They watched the two men get into the truck -- Daniel's gestures making emphatic statements even as the door closed .
"So," Janet murmured, "three days downtime. Anything planned?"
"Nothing much. Sergeant Siler said he found a carburetor that might be in better shape than... What?"
"Sergeant Siler, huh?" She winked. "You go girl!"
"It's not like that."
"Why not?"
"Because there are rules..."
Jack hit the horn as he passed and both men waved.
"There are ways around the rules," Janet observed dryly. "And it's not like we get the chance to meet a lot of eligible men. At least not ones we can actually talk to." She lowered her voice, "So, beautiful, what do you do?" And raised it again. "I'm sorry, if I told you that, I'd have to shoot you. Puts a crimp in dating."
"Truer words," Sam sighed.
"So if you and Sergeant Siler bond over motorcycle repairs, I think you ought to follow things through and see if he salutes."
"Janet!"
"Metaphorically speaking, of course."
"I know what you meant!"
Sliding in behind the wheel, Janet flashed a cheery grin. "I have decided to ask Teal'c over for dinner. He doesn't get out much either."
"Teal'c?" Sam opened her mouth. Closed it again. And finally matched Janet's grin. "Why not."
"My point exactly."
"Look, you couldn't go ten days without having your battery recharged so just lay off my car."
"Your car is crap, Daniel."
"And what part of 'lay off my car', are you having trouble understanding?"
Jack grinned and downshifted, roaring past Ferritti's Chevy, gleefully announcing, "Moves like a rock too. I told him not to buy it."
"Oh yeah, you're the truck-man, Jack."
"Damn straight."
Daniel snorted. "Or not." He braced himself as Jack took a corner at near orbital velocity. "So did you notice that through -out this whole quarantine any time we saw Sam, we saw Janet? And they were sharing quarters… You think there's anything going on?"
"You mean like, going on?"
"Euphemistically speaking, yes."
"Jesus, Daniel, you couldn't have come up with this at the beginning of the quarantine?" Jack hit the gas and raced through the end of an amber light. "We could have had them under surveillance the whole time! You could have covered Carter..."
"I don't think so."
"...and I'd have covered ol' Doc Fraiser."
"Jack..."
"Oh well, next time."
"Next quarantine?"
"Yeah."
"We'll spy on Sam and Janet?"
"Spy is such a loaded word."
One hand against the dashboard as Jack tested the anti-lock part of his anti-lock brakes, Daniel sighed. "Next quarantine," he said in a tone that discouraged argument, "we'll give Sam and Janet the same consideration that they'd give us..."
--end--