default style cream background and navy text

I'm Dreaming of a Green Christmas...

Summary: My answer to the 2005 FDAS writers' challenge. The theme is 'green' - and so I was after I realised I'd set this daft challenge - and must include; a cream cake, grease paint, a stuffed toy, flannel pyjamas and by special request of Eos, a proctologist. We're in the process of having her committed.
Thanks, as ever to Joy for the beta.

It was a cold winter's day; snow was on the ground having dropped in shed loads instead of the pretty fluffy snow usually found in Christmas stories. Despite still having electricity and a fire burning, it was quite chilly in the cabin which Jack called home. A small Christmas tree twinkled, its fairy lights giving a magical air to the room in which the men currently resided. To cheer themselves up, they were eating chocolate cakes, stuffed with cream, and watching the flames which danced as they rose up the chimney. Daniel should have known that this idyllic scene would soon take a turn for the surreal. It usually happened when he was feeling this relaxed.


"What did you want to be when you grew up?"

Daniel looked oddly at Jack. "What do you mean?"

"Simple enough really," Jack shrugged.

"Like you?"

Jack sniffed and threw a piece of the chocolate eclair he was eating at Daniel (which was caught deftly and eaten, the smug grin on Daniel's face suggesting that he'd wanted some of Jack's cake all along). Both were lying on the carpet, propped up with various soft furnishings and trying to warm their frozen feet by the log fire.

"Go on, what did you want to be when you grew up?" Jack prompted.

"Um..." Daniel thought Jack had lost it. "An archaeologist, perhaps?" he answered with a grin.

"You really wanted to be an archaeologist?" Jack asked, turning to look at Daniel in surprise.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

He flopped back down again and shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. It's just that kids usually want to be loads of different things and don't usually end up being any of them."

"Ah. I see," said Daniel in understanding. "I guess I didn't have much in the way of imagination."

"Probably not," Jack agreed. "Shouldn't surprise me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Daniel demanded.

"Nothing, nothing," Jack tried to placate him.

"Jack! What do you mean by that?" he growled.

Jack wondered if answering Daniel would be safer than changing the subject. Whatever he did, he was probably on a hiding to nothing.

"Well... you're single-minded," he said, thinking that would be the most diplomatic answer. He could have said stubborn, or bloody-minded or... unimaginative, but single-minded could be taken as a compliment. Couldn't it?

"Single-minded?" Daniel said thoughtfully. "I don't seem to remember you complaining about my 'single-mindedness' when I finally got you into bed."

"Hey, who said I'm complaining?"

Daniel snorted. "You usually do when I'm being single-minded on a mission," he sniped.

"Well, that's because you're being a pain in the ass. Anyway," he tried to get the conversation back on track. "Wasn't there anything else you wanted to be?"

"What do you expect me to say, Jack?" Daniel answered in frustration. "I wanted to be a proctologist?"

"You did?"


"You wanted to be a proctologist?"


"Then why did you say it?"

Daniel looked at Jack with pain in his eyes. Could someone please tell him why he loved the idiot? 'Cause sure as eggs were eggs, he had no fucking idea whatsoever.

"What did you want to be?" Daniel said, trying to regain some level of sanity.

"An ac-tor..." Jack replied, waving his hand in the air and pronouncing the word 'actor' with two, distinct syllables, the 'tor' so deep and emphasised that Daniel looked around to see if Thor had turned up and Jack had greeted him mid-word.

Discovering no such intrusion, Daniel replied, "Ah, the roar of the grease paint, the smell of the crowd..."

Jack sniggered. "Yeah. But I was allergic to it so I joined the Air Force instead."

"What? How could you be allergic to acting?" Daniel asked in disbelief.

"Grease paint. I'm allergic to grease paint," Jack answered with a sigh.

Daniel thought for a moment then said, "But you wear grease paint for camouflage."

"It's a hypoallergenic-type," Jack admitted. "For sensitive skin."

"Don't they do hypoallergenic grease paint for actors?" Daniel asked, congratulating himself on not falling for the 'I'm a sensitive man'-trap that Jack had set up.

"I don't know. Don't think they did when I was five, though."

"You were five when you wanted to be an actor?"

"Yeah. School nativity play. I was Joseph. Stole the show," he said with a grin. "Nagged Ma to take me to the local kids' theatre group, joined it, rehearsed..." His voice trailed off as he finished. "There we were, ready to do the dress rehearsal..."

"What were you?"

"I was a leprechaun," Jack answered with a smile.

"A leprechaun. Of course you were. What happened?"

"I came out in blotches all over my face. Ma took one look at me and one of the understudies, Michael O'Brien, got my part. Never forgave him, especially when he did such a good job that Bridget Finnegan, who was damned cute, decided she was going to marry him and not me."

Daniel couldn't help it, he fell about laughing.

"You were jealous because another boy got to be a leprechaun and you didn't?"

"Green with envy," Jack admitted.

Daniel laughed again. "That's got to be some Irish in-joke, hasn't it?"

Jack shrugged then put his hand out to Daniel and pulled him close, tucking him under his arm and hugging him tightly.

"J'ck," Daniel gasped. "I'm not a teddy bear."

Jack loosened his grip. "No, you're not," he agreed, poking Daniel in various places. "Too hard for a start."

Daniel poked him back. "I'll get you one for Christmas."

"A bear?"

"Sure. Or a leprechaun."

"You can't buy leprechauns," Jack sniffed. "They're magical."

"Of course they are Jack," Daniel soothed in a patronising tone. Then he shuddered. "Brrr."


"I'm cold."

"Oh, right. Well, I know a great way to warm up."

"Rub two sticks together?" Daniel answered hopefully with a grin.

"That too."

"So? What will warm me up?"

"Hot chocolate," Jack started, getting a 'hmm' from Daniel. "Then into bed..." which got an enthusiastic 'yes!' which was suddenly dampened when he added, "in flannel pyjamas."

"Flannel pyjamas?!" Daniel asked in shock.

"Very warm," Jack nodded sagely. "Remember, I was born in Chicago and brought up in Minnesota. I'm good at keeping warm. Flannel pyjamas are great."

Daniel stared at him in bewilderment and then started to look worried.

"Daniel? What's up?" Jack asked as Daniel put his hand on Jack's forehead.

"Just checking to see if you've got a temperature. I think you're sickening for something."

Jack batted his hand away.

"Nope, just being practical, that's all."

Daniel thought for a moment and then asked, "Your mother's Irish, too, isn't she? I mean, it's not just your dad."

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason."


"Well, I'm just imagining that you're sounding a lot like her, that's all. You sound a lot like one of my foster mothers."

"Was she Irish?"

"No, Jewish. Same obsessive mothering, different accent. Funnily enough, we seemed to eat a lot of fish on Fridays. Never figured that one out."

Jack shook his head, wondering just what tangent Daniel's mind was off on this time.

"Anyway," Daniel suddenly said, "I liked two parts of your suggestion."

"Oh? What were they?"

"Hot chocolate."

"Okay. And?"

Daniel dipped his head, looked up through his long lashes, and with a seductive smile he purred, "Bed."

Jack thought about it and then grinned. "Sounds good to me. Wait there."

He let go of a bemused Daniel and scooted into the kitchen. Daniel heard the sounds of mugs being retrieved, milk taken from the fridge, the cupboard door opening and shutting, some manic stirring and then the beep of the microwave being programmed. The familiar hum of the oven told him that he'd be getting hot chocolate sometime soon, and he decided that he wanted to spice it up a bit, so he headed to the drinks cabinet and retrieved a bottle of brandy.

When the beep, beep, beep came from the kitchen he knew his drink was ready so he stood up, carried the brandy to the kitchen door and showed Jack the bottle.

"Are you sure?" Jack asked, looking a little concerned. "You know what alcohol does to you."

"It's beer," Daniel sighed.

"No, that's brandy."

"Jack, it's beer that gets me drunk! Brandy doesn't."

"So, is there a point to putting it in?"

"It tastes good."

Jack thought then nodded. "Works for me," he said and poured a little into each mug.

They carried them into the bedroom (Jack detouring to make the fire safe), and Daniel quickly stripped off and jumped under the covers, picking his mug up from the bedside table and sipping his hot drink happily. Jack strolled into the room, put down his mug and opened one of the drawers.

"Jack? What are you doing?"

"Just looking for something, that's all."

"The lube's in this drawer," Daniel reminded him, opening up the drawer, picking up the lube and waving it at him in what he hoped was an encouraging manner.

"Not that," came the distracted reply.

"Jack, you don't need a teddy bear. You've got me."


Daniel started to wonder if he'd lost his touch. He kicked the cover off him and posed naked, hoping to rekindle Jack's interest. Unfortunately, the ambient temperature in the room didn't do a lot for his assets so he covered himself back up again.

"AH HA!"

Daniel wondered if he should ask. He knew it probably wasn't a good idea to ask, but curiosity got the better of him as it usually did.


"Found 'em."

Jack turned around in triumph and held up a pair of emerald-green flannel pyjamas.

"Here, put them on," he said, looking very pleased with himself.

"Er... no."

"Go on, they'll keep you warm."

"I don't want them to keep me warm. I want you to keep me warm."

"And what about when you're asleep?" Jack warned. "When you're not being active. You'll thank me later."

"No, I won't. And if you don't get over here now, without the fucking pyjamas, you won't get any activity at all until the spring! I'll go home now and hibernate!"

Jack looked at Daniel. He looked at the pyjamas, ran his fingers over the soft material and sighed. Then he shrugged, threw the offending items behind him and jumped on the bed.


"So, what do you want for Christmas?" Daniel asked, his voice thick with sleep and a smug grin on his face. He always had one of those when he'd got what he wanted.

"Hmm?" Jack opened his eyes and looked dozily at Daniel.

Daniel thought he looked cute so he kissed his nose.

"What do you want for Christmas?"

"Haven't you got me a present already?" Jack asked, not a little hurt.

Daniel shrugged. "I might have," he replied. "I might not have. So?"

Jack snuggled back under the covers and sighed.

"Galactic peace?" he offered.

Daniel looked at him in confusion.


"You know, no more snakeheads, no more battles..."

"But that would mean you'd get bored, Jack."

He shrugged. "Maybe. But I could think of a few things to distract me."

"Yeah, that's what would worry me," Daniel chuckled. "You're distracting enough when you're not bored."

Jack wondered if he'd been insulted then decided that he couldn't care less if he had. To illustrate his point about 'distractions', he put his hand under the covers and found Daniel's groin.

Daniel screamed. Jack's hand had been cold.

"I never thought I'd want a Goa'uld around the place," Daniel muttered.

Jack snorted. "You could warm me up?" he suggested.

"I already did! Or weren't you paying attention?"

"I always pay attention to you," Jack sniffed.

"No you don't. You rarely pay attention to me."

"In bed I do."

Daniel conceded that point. It was the one place he usually had Jack's undivided attention. So why didn't he have it now? And what in hell's name was Jack doing this time?



"What are you doing?"

"Trying to work out who got the best deal," came the voice from under the covers.

Chilled bits of Jack's body came into contact with hot bits of Daniel's, making Daniel have to bite his tongue or else he'd scream like a girl again and that would give Jack far too much ammunition against him.

"What do you mean?" he gasped, grabbing the cover and yanking it up.

He saw Jack apparently giving his body the once over, possibly even measuring Daniel's dick.

"Me or Michael O'Brien. He got Bridget, I got you. I'm trying to work out who won in the end. After all, she was cute."

Daniel was hurt. "I'm cute," he sniffed.

"Yeah, but she was real cute. And quiet. You, on the other hand, are not quiet."

Daniel shrugged. Okay, so he did have a tendency to yell when he came. Why else had Jack moved from his house in a street full of houses to a cabin away from them?

"I'm hot," he offered seductively. "Real hot." Adding mentally, 'and I'd be a lot hotter if you'd get back up here so I can put the cover back down'.


"And I could suck a ping-pong ball through a straw."

Jack moved back up Daniel's body and pulled the cover down.

"Very true."

"And I can read lots of languages."

"What's that got to do with it?" Jack asked confused.

Daniel smiled. It was an 'I've won' smile.

"Because most of the best sex manuals are in other, often ancient languages."

"We don't need them."

'Game, set and match', Daniel thought. "That's because I've already read them. Having an eidetic memory is useful, you know."

Jack considered this for a moment then nodded.

"Works for me," he grinned. "I think I win."

"You reckon he'd be as jealous of you as you were of him?"

"Positively green," Jack announced enthusiastically. Then he looked thoughtful again.

"What's up?"

"Oh, I was just wondering. Could you really get me a leprechaun for Christmas?"