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Deoch an Doris

Summary: Happy birthday, Cats. Have one on me.

"Daniel, before you go, how about a drink?"

Daniel turned slowly, stopped reaching for his jacket near Jack's front door and faced his nemesis. Nemesis - best friend - it was just a matter of interpretation.

"You want me to stay?"

"Just for a while. Come on, you don't stay anymore, do you? You come over, we talk shop, you go. Can't two friends, colleagues, co-workers - buddies, have a drink together?"

"Sure Jack. But just the one, I'm driving."

Jack beamed at Daniel for that. He'd been on tenterhooks all night, not really sure of where things were going between them. That he loved Daniel was not in question. The question was, how did he love him?

As for Daniel, there had been a bloody good reason for him to stay away. Just seeing Jack in those soft, worn jeans, that bright-white T-shirt, well, it was just too damned much for a horny guy, you know? He knew. He knew all too damned well.

Jack nodded at the cocktail cabinet he had and Daniel nodded back. A Scotch would do nicely, thank you very much. Eighteen year-old Glenlivet. Not bad, not bad at all.

"How did you get this?" Daniel asked as he took his first sip of the real amber nectar.

"Oh, I have my sources," Jack grinned. "I'm a bit of a connoisseur on the side."

"Oh? What else do you have?" Now Daniel's interest was really piqued. Up till then, they'd shared beer (which Daniel hated), the odd wine (which Jack hated) and sometimes had compromised on sharing a bottle of Jack Daniel's - but that was in the old days.

Jack bade him come over to the cabinet and he proudly showed off his Glen Morangie, Glenfiddich, and about fifteen other Glens, some of which Daniel was sure were on no map of either Scotland or Ireland.

"They all taste that little bit different from each other," Jack said.

"Do they now?" Daniel's blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "Perhaps we should test that theory?"

Jack's face ran through a gamut of emotions. Horror (he'd have to open the bottles?); delight (Daniel had suggested staying longer than for one drink) and finally - with diversions into lust, love, lust again, excitement, more lust - fear. Getting drunk with Daniel was probably not a good idea anymore. But then, he really did want to be Daniel's bestest ever friend in the whole wide universe, didn't he? Hell, he wanted a lot more than that, but given the circumstances, he'd settle for that once again.

"Sure, why not? But you're staying over, Daniel. No way am I sending you home when we're through here."

Daniel swallowed hard. If only Jack meant it in another way... Ah, what the hell? What's the worst that could happen? Somehow, he knew that that was a really stupid thing to think.

"So, what Glen are we on now, Jack?" Daniel asked with a grin. They'd already strolled through Glen Grant (rich and fruity, they'd decided); Glenlivet, at eighteen years old, she was a nice young thing, quite fruity too; over to Craganmore, fresher and creamier than the others - the 'more' here being the operative word, and Glen Garioch a treacly ten year-old.

"Now, the pièce de résistance," Jack grinned. Forty year-old Glenfiddich.

Daniel giggled and got on his knees before Jack, who had the bottle in his hand, and bowed.

"I prostrate myself before the master of good taste," he called out, quietly laughing himself sick. Whisky always got him like this. Always... lively.

He started laughing out loud at a remembered rhyme.

"Daniel? Whassup?"

"Just remembered something a friend said in Oxford, Jack, that's all," he said, twisting himself to sit on the floor. "Whisky makes me frisky, brandy makes me randy, with wine I feel fine and beer makes me..."

"Fuck that," Jack broke in, "I do not want to know what beer does!"

"Aw, spoilsport," Daniel pouted.

Jack raised an eyebrow and chuckled to himself, then carefully got out two new glasses. "Only the best glasses for this baby," he said in explanation. Daniel agreed wholeheartedly.

With a hand steadier than he would have imagined, Jack poured out two measures of the special malt. Then he capped the bottle and put it back.

"So, what do you think?" he asked as Daniel held it to his nose and sniffed.

"Hmm. Wow. Lots of fruit. It's like a Christmas cake. Yeah, like a Christmas cake." He sipped it and his eyes shut in bliss. "That," he said, "is the best of a very good bunch. But there's a problem."

"Oh? What's that?"

"There are still at least another ten bottles in there, Jack. How do we go back to them after this? Nothing could come close."

"I see you are definitely into your Scotch, Daniel," Jack replied with a grin. "Let's save the others for another night, shall we?"

"Most definitely. You know, in all the years we've known each other, we didn't know we shared this particular passion."

"Strange," Jack admitted. "Anyway, enjoy that one, it's the only glass you're going to get of it tonight. That bottle has to last."

"Pricey? Or just difficult to get a hold of?"

"Both. It's around fifteen hundred bucks a bottle."

Jack waited till Daniel had put his glass down before he imparted that piece of information, it would have been a tragedy to have had it spilt.

"Wow. You shouldn't have opened it, Jack. Saved it for a special occasion."

"This is one," Jack said quietly. "You're here."

"Damn," Daniel whispered, then stared into Jack's eyes. Which had suddenly taken on a very smoky appearance. Daniel wasn't sure what that meant, but it could have been one of a few things. One, Daniel needed new glasses. Always a possibility. Two, Daniel was drunk. He thought about that, and while he was definitely not sober, he couldn't be described as drunk - not yet. Three, Jack was horny. Daniel dropped his eyes briefly and looked at Jack's pants... which turned out to be bulging a bit more than normal. Oh boy.

Jack saw the look, the lightly open mouth, heard the quiet breaths his friend took and took a gander at Daniel's own jeans. They seemed to be... expanding.

Now, Jack may have been a risk-taker, but he wasn't stupid. He had to make sure that what he was seeing was real. So, in the time-honoured manner of a master staller, he changed the subject.

He sat back against the arm of the sofa and rested his glass in his lap, propping his feet up a bit as he did. Daniel shuffled till he was a little closer to Jack's legs.

"Do you remember the first time you drank whisky, Daniel?"

"Yeah, surprisingly enough," Daniel said, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

"You look embarrassed. Come on, Daniel, there's nothing you can't tell me, is there?"

"No, I know. Same for you with me, you know?"

"Absolutely. So, what happened?"

Daniel took a sip of the drink, contemplated throwing it down in one go, but decided that was sacrilegious. He swallowed hard.

"I, er, I was out for the night with some friends. My partner, me and a couple of guys went and hit the bars. I was on whisky as a bit of an experiment. I didn't really like beer much, and drinking wine in the bars we went to wasn't really on. I got the way I always do with it."

"How's that?"

"Pleasantly drunk, but, er..."


"You know. Horny."

"Oh. So? What happened?"

"We went home and I, er, I..."


"Got my brains fucked out in the best night I'd had ever." The words came tumbling out in a rush and Daniel didn't look up. He couldn't.

"Oh. It was good, eh?" Jack's voice was warm and encouraging, so Daniel looked up carefully and slowly, not moving his head but just looking up through his eyelashes. He saw a flush creeping over Jack's face and a very hard swallow soon following it.

"Incredible," he admitted.

"Wow. I, er, know what you mean, by the way," Jack said, trying to disguise the hitch in his voice and failing.

"Oh? What, do you know what it's like to get horny when you drink whisky, get your brains fucked out or..."

"All of the above," Jack squeaked.

Daniel looked at his drink, decided that what he was about to do was for the greater good, and if the drink was to be sacrificed, surely this would be as good a reason as any other. He knocked it back in one, letting the taste linger on his tongue for one last, loving moment, before turning and getting up onto his knees.

"Drink up, Jack," he said, his voice quiet but commanding. Jack drank, not even tasting the drink as it gave that pleasant burn to the back of his throat.

Daniel took his glass off him and carefully put it on the table along with his glasses which he took off for safety's sake, then he put his hand on Jack's nearest leg and twisted it, forcing Jack to sit upright.

"You want a reminder?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Jack couldn't take his eyes from Daniel's, couldn't answer in words. He just nodded, then shivered when he saw Daniel's mouth twitch into a small, wicked smile.


Daniel stood up, but put his hand on Jack to keep him where he was, then he knelt on the sofa, straddling Jack's thighs.

"How long have you wanted this, Jack?" he whispered.

"Too fucking long."

"Me too."

There was no more to be said and Daniel dipped his head and started to kiss Jack's face. He trailed a series of kisses all over Jack's skin, over his eyes, his nose, and finally, he captured Jack's lips with his own. It started out gently, but soon they built up to a fearsome passion. Tongues probed, battled and stroked, as hands roved and touched. Their shirts were soon history and when skin touched skin, both men broke the kiss to gasp.

"Fuck," Daniel whispered in awe.

"Yeah. Not here though."


"The stuff's upstairs."

"Oh," came the reply.

Daniel backed off, then put out his hand to Jack, pulling him up, revelling in the touch when their chests clashed again. They aimed for the stairs, but it wasn't easy. Shoes were kicked off, belts were undone, all without breaking the kiss they'd restarted. Somehow they made it, then made it up the stairs. They broke off long enough to finish stripping when they reached the bedroom.

Daniel pushed Jack onto the bed and started up with the kissing again, this time heading further south and suckling on Jack's neck, his nipples, anywhere he could reach with his tongue.

"Daniel, if you don't do something soon I'm gonna blow!" Jack called out.

"No, you're not," came the smirked reply. "I am."

He dropped down, took Jack's dick into his mouth and sucked hard.

Jack thought that he had died and gone to heaven. Here was his best friend, blowing him, sucking, licking, rasping his teeth gently - something Jack usually hated but with the trust he had in Daniel, this was amazing. He reached over to the bedside table and pulled something out of the drawer.

"Danny," he gasped, and passed it down to him.

Daniel reached up, not stopping what he was doing. He recognised the shape of the bottle of lube and quickly popped open the cap. Before Jack knew what was going on, he had a cool, slick finger pushing into him.

"Ah, fuck," he panted, "yeah, just like that."

He bore down on Daniel's finger, begging for more. He got more. As the two fingers played, Daniel sucked harder and soon, with a stroke to his gland, he was gone.

Jack came with a howl that would awaken the dead.

He finally opened his eyes to see a smug Daniel kneeling up, wiping his face with the back of his left hand, while his right hand covered his cock with lube.

"You want?" Daniel asked.

"What do you think?" Jack grunted.


Jack just laughed. Then he said, "When you got your brains fucked out, what position were you in?"

"Hands and knees, Jack. Your knees up for that?"

In answer, Jack turned and assumed the position. He let out a loud yelp when he felt Daniel's mouth on one of his ass cheeks. He let out a louder one when he bit it.

"You bit me!"

"Nobody's going to see that hickey, Jack," Daniel laughed, "but when you sit down tomorrow, you are going to remember that you are mine."

"I've got a feeling that I'm not going to be able to sit down tomorrow," Jack muttered under his breath. He stopped talking when Daniel got in position and started to push in.

It had been a while for Jack, but he was pretty relaxed. He had never had a partner that he trusted more, either, so it made it a lot easier. This was way better than the dreams he'd had.

Soon, Daniel was in all the way and Jack felt him panting hard as he fought to keep control.

"Do it, Daniel," he ordered, "just let yourself go. Fuck me hard."

Daniel started to move, slowly at first, then building up speed and force. He was afraid of hurting Jack, but the cries of 'yeah' from his lover were enough to encourage him. He did as advertised and fucked Jack's brains out.

"Morning, sunshine," Jack said, waving a mug of triple-strength Java underneath Daniel's nose.

He smiled as he saw said nose follow the movement of the mug.

"Hey," Daniel finally said as he opened his eyes. He looked around and saw his jeans, socks and boxers scattered over the floor. "Not a dream last night then?"

"Uh huh. You are one amazing fuck, Daniel Jackson."

Daniel grinned and took the mug off Jack so he could hide his face in the steam.

"Yeah, well, you're pretty amazing too, Jack O'Neill."

Silence fell for a moment, then they both started to speak at the same time, both waved at the other to speak first, then both laughed.

"Are we okay?" Daniel finally asked.

"We're fine, Daniel. Honestly. You want to do that again?"


Jack laughed when he saw the glint in Daniel's eyes.

"Maybe. I was just wondering if..."

"We're together?"

"Um, yeah."

"If you want that, Jack. With your job, I couldn't go to you, but I'm willing to take the risk if you are."

"Hey, I'm a natural born risk-taker, you know that."

Daniel nodded with a smile. "I'm glad," he said. Then he put his mug down, drew Jack in for a long, deep kiss. "How about we merge our collections of whisky, Jack? It'll give us a damned good excuse to fuck each other's brains out every now and then."

Jack just laughed. "Who needs the excuse?"