Summary: My answer to the Alpha Gate's Friday Night Challenge - Linguist in Leather? Colonel in Crisis! Thanks to Joy for the beta (as ever, dear, couldn't do a thing without you)
We're going to go out tonight. It's been a while. We're all heading out to the new eatery up in town, some Italian place. Should be good. Since I got Teal'c into the joys of eating pizza he's been desperate to try out some new and exciting things - such as pasta. Poor guy - living in the mountain and eating at the commissary has done dreadful things to his appetite. Still, it's his choice and the others are happy to go along. Guess I shouldn't have offered to pay, but still, a colonel's gotta do what a colonel's gotta do.
Carter's been spending way too much time in her lab recently. We've been on light duties for a couple of weeks, recovering from some strenuous activities out in the field. As a result I've not seen hide nor hair of her or Daniel in days. They locked themselves in their labs and refused to come out till whatever it is they're doing is finished. I insisted that they come tonight. Carter seemed okay about it, but Daniel wasn't too pleased.
But Jack, I've just reached this interesting point in the translation. You see, the civilisation on P45-92S is based on the Spartan...
Yadda, yadda. I shut down there and then and told him that this was for Teal'c and that Teal'c would not be happy if his favourite linguist wasn't there and didn't Daniel really want to help Teal'c get over his guilty feelings about what he'd done and if he did want to help then he should spend time with his favourite Jaffa. Then I took a deep breath to recover from my speech. Needless to say, Daniel looked sad when I said that.
Of course, it was a low blow. Teal'c never even mentioned Daniel or Carter, but he did talk in reverent tones about linguini.
So, I'm gonna pick Teal'c up. Carter and Daniel said they'd meet us there at nineteen hundred. Well, Carter said nineteen hundred. Daniel said 'seven o'clock - and stop using that military jargon when we're off duty, Jack, it bugs the crap out of me'.
I'm kinda dreading this to tell the truth. This last few weeks, while quiet, have been good. Not seeing Daniel has been easy on my libido. I can't help it. I'm so gone on the boy it's fucking painful. So, by not seeing him, I'm not thinking about him so often. I've tried to not think about him when I do see him, but three weeks ago that got him hurt in the field when I didn't tell him to duck. Okay, it was only a branch that flung back and smacked him in the face, but still, it was my fault. I feel like a piece of shit for ignoring him.
But you see my problem, I can't tell him. He's got to be a zero on the scale, whereas I was a bit of a two. Fuck that, I was a lot of a three in my teen years. Still, I love to fly and I really don't want a DD. So, no Danny. No sweet, sweet ass to bury myself in, no beautiful lips kissing me goodnight, no arms to wrap around me. Oh crap.
He's going to put me off him tonight, I know it. He'll turn up in those tatty old baggy jeans and one of his plaid shirts. Nothing puts a damper on my ardour quicker than those. And those ratty old sneakers that had seen better days five years ago. I've seen his pay packet. He could live in Armani, Gucci, drive a Ferrari - sheesh - tonight's dinner has got to me. I haven't even left the mountain yet.
"T man, you ready?" I call from outside his door.
It opens and he stands there dressed up to the nines.
"You're looking good, big guy!"
"I know. Thank you. Shall we depart?"
"Yeah, sure." Nobody could accuse Teal'c of false modesty.
I look okay - my black chinos, grey shirt, black leather jacket - pretty cool for an old flyboy. See, that's half my problem. Danny's what? Nine? Ten years younger than me? He wouldn't even look at me, would he? Not that he looks at anyone, ever. When is he ever gonna get a clue? He's drop-dead freaking gorgeous, even behind those cute wire-framed glasses of his. And when he does wear a suit - call the fucking fire brigade.
We had an intake of SEALs not so long back. Hard men, the only ones here that will take on the Marines and look forward to the encounter. Daniel was doing the diplomatic thing and wearing that 'old funeral suit' as he calls it. Next thing I saw was a squad of SEALs washing the floor with their drool as he strolled past, oblivious to the looks he was getting. But then, Danny's the only person I know that will take on the Marines - on his own - without backing down. And win. How does he do that?
At last, I pull up into the parking lot and we're there. They had better be there. I don't see their cars anywhere. We go into the door and get greeted by the waiter. He takes us over to a table.
"Ah, Carter, I'm glad you're here."
She stands up, and we both admire her dress. She's looking good.
"Any sign of Daniel yet?" I ask with a sigh as we all sit.
"He called, said he'd be a little late, he had to go to the shops. He won't be long though."
"Damn, that boy would be late for his own funeral," I reply and then realise that Carter's mouth is open wide and she suddenly looks like one of the SEALs. So does Teal'c who is also sitting opposite me.
I turn around.
And I use the term advisedly.
"Jack, how many times have I told you? I'm not a boy. I'm thirty-six years old. Get over it."
Did he just say something? I'm sorta stunned here. When I can feel my legs I'm gonna stand up. Which would be a good idea as my face is currently in line with his groin. Which is covered in black leather. Along with the rest of his legs, of course.
"Jack? Jack! You okay? You kinda zoned out there, old man."
Huh. He's not wrong. I manage to stand up, my eyes raking the rest of his body which is clothed in a tight black T-shirt and a black leather jacket that looks nearly as old and worn as mine. When did he get that?
"No, it's the Wizard of Oz. Of course it's me. What have you been drinking, Jack?"
"NOTHING! Um, nothing. No, not drinking, just got here. Wanna drink though. Wanna drink Danny?"
"Yes, please. I'll get a cab home. Jack, are you all right? That's the second time you've called me Danny and even you can manage to speak properly usually. Feigned idiocy not withstanding."
"I'm fine. What's wrong with calling you that? I've always called you that!"
"No Jack, you haven't. You haven't called me that in years." He sighs and then turns to the others and greets them as he passes me and slides into his seat. How he didn't notice the hard-on I've got I do not know.
"You look deadly, Daniel," Carter purrs.
"You do indeed look extremely attractive tonight, Daniel Jackson."
I'm gonna have to watch them. No, O'Neill, they're not competition. A - he's not interested in you, and B - you are so not going to be interested in him. You can't. You just can't.
"Um, thanks guys. I decided to start going out again a while back, figured I'd better get back to having some decent clothes. Never had the time to do it before. But as I don't do anything most Friday nights now, I finally found the time. It's been fun."
"What, shopping?" Carter asks.
"No, dating. I usually hate dating to tell the truth, but I've been enjoying myself. Met someone I might see again. I'm going to the same club later. I'll see if h..er, well I'll see."
H? H? What was he going to say? Dammit. Helen? Harriet?
"Daniel? Who is she? Is her name so embarrassing that you don't want to admit it?" I tease. Daniel looks hurt. Dammit. Double dammit.
"Nobody you know, Jack, and nobody you're going to meet either, so don't push it."
"Daniel, the Colonel teases us all, you know that, don't take it so personally," Carter's trying to make up for it.
"I'm not. Besides, he teases you two, he snipes at me."
Before I can answer that the waiter comes over and gives me time to realise that I can't answer it. He's right. Shit. Friday nights used to be our night. He sacrificed his only time for sartorial elegance for hockey and beer he didn't like. And I cut him out and shut him down, and I've been sniping and bitching and generally taking the fact that I can't get to sleep unless I've come screaming his name out on him. It's not his fault. I'm a gold-plated bastard.
I look up at Carter and Teal'c and see the pain in their eyes for Daniel and the 'eat shit and die O'Neill' for me.
Then Daniel starts speaking Italian to the waiter. I'm screwed.
"What did you order for me, Daniel?" Carter asks.
"Faraona alla Giobatta - a guinea fowl in a walnut sauce, for you, Sam; Teal'c, you said you wanted pasta, so you've got pizzoccheri alla colombacci, that's pizzoccheri with wood pigeons and I've got consolette di agnello con patate al vino, that's lamb cutlets with potatoes in wine."
"What about me?"
"I wouldn't presume to order for you, Jack. What would you like?"
I'd like us to be friends again, Daniel. But what I say is,
"I dunno, surprise me."
"If you're sure." He says something to the waiter, so I ask him what he's ordered.
"Magatello in salsa del 'Don' - it's steak, Jack, don't look so distrusting."
"Who, me? I trust you, Daniel."
The look I get back tells me he doesn't believe me. I have so fucked everything up.
We try to talk, all the evening we try to talk, but we're just not getting there. I've lost him. I've fucking lost him. What am I going to do?
I call for the bill, Daniel offers to pay, then insists on splitting it between us. He won't even let me take him to dinner anymore. How do I make up for this? Just how?
"Do you want a lift anywhere, Daniel?" I ask.
"No, it's okay, I'm going to the club. See you at work, guys."
He kisses Carter on the cheek, does the wrist-grasp handshake with Teal'c and then looks at me with sad eyes.
"Night then, Jack, thanks for asking me to come."
What? I think hard about what he's just said and it dawns on me that I haven't asked him to do anything with me in a long, long time. That has got to stop. I'll take bromide if I have to. I'm not going to let him go. I give Teal'c a twenty - tell him to take Carter home and get a cab back to the mountain. I'm not leaving Daniel yet.
"Daniel, wait up."
"Jack, I'm meeting someone. I don't want you there, okay?"
"Why not? Too old to be introduced to your new girlfriend?"
He shakes his head and has a wry grin.
"You want to go there? Okay, don't say I didn't warn you, Jack."
He stalks off and I follow closely behind, until we get to... oh shit. I can't go in there. I've got no problem with it, but no way am I going in there. Not unless I want a court martial.
"Daniel, that's a gay club."
"You still want to come in?"
"Didn't think so. See you at work, Jack."
"Wait! Daniel, shit, come here and talk to me please."
"Why? You want to kick me off the team?"
"NO! Don't be stupid. Of course not. Look, I understand why you don't want this to be general knowledge, but why didn't you tell me?"
He just says "When? When would I have told you? Now, the guy that I met last week may be here. He's good-looking, sweet, doesn't shut me up, bitch at me or just tolerate my presence. He actually likes me. If he's here, I'm going to ask him out on a more full-time basis. If you've got a problem with that, tell me now."
I get the feeling that this is my last chance, so...
"Daniel, please, we need to talk. I couldn't give a shit about your sexuality, okay? It's not important. I've fucked up being your friend and I want to put that right. I'm sorry, honestly. Please talk to me."
He looks surprised and then confused.
"Jack. I have a little dilemma. If I stay here, are you going to shut me out forever? I don't want that. But if I go with you, I won't get to see Mark. Now, I really like him, and to put it bluntly, I'm fed up to the back teeth of sleeping alone. I want to get laid. I'm a guy, this happens, you know."
I know, I know. I want to get laid too.
Crap, I didn't mean to say that out loud. Still, go with the flow, O'Neill.
"I'm a guy, if you hadn't noticed, Daniel. Of course I want that."
A flash of... disappointment was it?... goes across his face.
"Daniel, please, come home with me. We really do need to talk. I have some stuff to explain to you."
He looks wistfully at the club and then sighs.
"This had better be good, O'Neill, or else I'm going to kill you."
I'm a shit. I know this for a fact. I also knew that I could persuade him to come with me. Just as well, 'cause most of the guys that were walking past us and into the club were eyeing him up. Somehow, though, I don't think that Daniel is anything like as oblivious as he makes out.
We head to my truck. I'm glad I kept sober throughout tonight, one glass of wine lasted all night. I need as much of a clear head to drive as I do to think.
"So? Are you not going to interrogate me?" he snipes as we drive towards my house.
"None of my business, Daniel. What you do in your own time, and who you do it with... well, it's your choice."
"You're not bothered about sharing a tent with me?"
"Why? Are you bothered about sharing one with me?"
"Jack, you're straight. You're hardly going to jump me, are you?"
Oops. I really didn't mean to slam the brakes on that hard. Just as well there was nothing coming up behind me.
"Jack? Are you okay?"
No, I'm not.
"Daniel, what you just said, you implied that..."
"Isn't that what all straight guys think? That because I'm bi I'm likely to be wanting to fuck every man I know?"
"You're making assumptions, Daniel."
"True. I wouldn't really know how straight guys think, never having been straight in my life. However, it's the kind of reaction that I usually get when they find out. You're surprising me, to tell the truth."
"Oh? Were you expecting me to want to beat you up or something?"
His silence answers that one. Shit. I put the truck back in gear and make my way as quickly as I can to my house.
"In, now, Daniel, we really do need to talk."
And do other things, but I doubt that he'd be interested in those. Not with me, anyway. Still, we need to clear the air between us.
"So, why have you been keeping your distance, shouting at me, ignoring me, you want me to go on?" he snipes.
I want to answer him. Trouble is, he's standing there, hands on hips, his jacket open and in the brighter light of my living room I get to see just how tight his T is... and his trousers. Woof.
Crap - I said that out loud too. I give him a small smile and a shrug. Not sure I can say a thing right now. My tongue is sorta hanging out. And drooling.
Oh. He's looking dangerous. He's saying nothing, but he's studying my face and my body language. Now his lips are turning up into a small smile.
"Woof?" he says again in an amused tone as he walks slowly closer to me. I should back off, but I can't. My legs are numb. In fact there's only one bit of my entire body that has any feeling in it whatsoever and that's throbbing. Ouch.
No, my tongue is in on the plot - it's ganging up on me, in cahoots with my dick. I don't stand a fucking chance here.
He's peeling his jacket off slowly. Hnng.
"Hnng? My, my, Jack, I think we're going to have to work on your linguistic skills," he purrs. And that's really what he's doing. Purring. So, while he plays cat, I'm like a dog in the summer and panting. 'Woof' indeed.
Oh crap, he's dropped his jacket onto the floor and now we're standing nose to nose.
"Jack? Is this what you've been wanting?"
I nod like a demented idiot. He gets the message. Considering he's a linguist he doesn't actually need me to say a damned word. I feel his lips brushing mine, hear him say, "Oh, Jack, why didn't you just say something?" but before I can answer he's kissing me.
And kissing me.
I always knew that his mouth was talented, I just never knew quite how talented till this moment. Well, I've never had any complaints about my own technique, so I give it some gas and kiss him back. I make the move to remove my own leather jacket but he stops me.
"Leave it on, Jack," he growls.
Okay. I can do that. Then he orders, "Kitchen, now."
Somehow, lips still locked we make it in there and I see him looking around for something. Olive oil? Oh shit. I know what he wants. Well, it's been a long time, but if he really wants this...
He does. His hands are on my belt, undoing it and then my flies. I kick off my shoes and my pants follow.
"You want this, Jack? Have you done this before?" he whispers.
"Yes, and yes - a long time ago. Want this, Danny. Want you so much." Finally! My tongue actually says what my brain wants it to!
"Good. Want you too, Jack." More kisses and touches and now... oh GOD he's gone down. He's taken the oil with him. I know what he's doing... and where those fingers are going. This is good, this is better than good. This is fucking mind-blowing. Hardly surprising as my IQ is now residing back in my scrotum. He's running his tongue up and down me, sucking hard, sticking his finger inside me. I have dreamed about this.
"Pinch me," I gasp.
He stops what he's doing, looks up through those beautiful lashes of his and grins. Then he pinches my ass.
"Thanks." I'm awake.
He giggles, and then says, "Should I continue or do you have other kinks I need to know about?"
"Please do, if it's not too much trouble. In fact, I insist."
"Oh, okay," he singsongs and then redoubles his efforts.
Ya know, when I met him, I realised that he was special. Over the years he's kinda grown on me... a lot if I'm honest. But now? Now I don't want him to ever leave my side. Especially the side of me that's getting the attention. Ooh, two fingers, now three and BINGO! he's hit the spot. I can't last, not now. He's stroking, sucking, moaning against my dick and I can't take any more.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and emerges with a huge grin.
"Over the table, flyboy," he orders.
"Hmm, I like that. I think that having me a colonel could be fun," he sniggers.
Damned tongue of mine. It's working independently again.
"You okay?" he asks as I feel him about to breech me. I can feel his leather trousers against my bare legs, he's resting his body against my back, sniffing? Oh Christ, he's inhaling the smell of my jacket. Who knew that leather was such a turn on for him? In the meantime, I need to reply.
"Do it, please, Danny."
So he does. I'm glad he's well-slicked up and that I'm as relaxed as I am because he's in in a couple of strokes. That feels so good. I've missed this, missed him too. Love him so much. He's moving slowly but steadily and changing his direction as he goes, screwing me into the table. I think I can die happy now. Though I'd rather not. I'd like this to happen again. And again.
And again, actually.
He's speeding up, pushing harder, hitting my sweet spot time and time again. We're both howling now. I'm not going to get the second coming, I'm too old for that... maybe later... but this is good.
I feel him slump against my back, panting hard, kissing the back of my neck.
"Love you, O'Neill," he whispers.
"Love you, Jackson," I reply.
I feel him smile against my back.
"It is me you love, isn't it?" he asks.
"Not just my leathers," he elaborates as he pulls away from me and then turns me around.
"Not just your leathers, Daniel," I tell him with a kiss. "I love you in your jammies too."