Ping

Summary: Inspired by Catspaw's answer to the FDAS challenge. Something she said in it triggered this plot. Not that I'm plagiarising, I hasten to add!
Daniel's gaydar's been on the blink. It's got new batteries now *g*.
Many thanks to Cats for the beta, as well as the idea.

Oh my GOD! Jack's gay. Absolutely, positively, no question about it, he's fucking gay. How, you may wonder, has it taken me so damned long to notice? We've been friends for years now.

Sheesh. I should have my membership of the Rainbow Club rescinded. Which would be a shame as it would mean I wouldn't see that cute redhead again. But I don't deserve to belong anymore. Talk about gaydar going on the fritz, mine was so long shut off the batteries had died.

Okay, so I was a bit rusty when Jack and I first met. Not to mention that despite being hot, he was a total pig. But I'd broken up with Sarah, hadn't been out and about and noticing that 'ping' wasn't high on my agenda.

Then there was Shau're, of course. So for those few years, I'd switched it off, not wanting to send out the old sonar signals.

But since then, I've been warming it up again, hearing faint pings, then louder ones, responding to the signals and so on... I'll admit, it's been fun.

But JACK? Really?

Let's look at the evidence. He's the campest guy on campus, no doubt about it. But he's so outrageously camp I'd dismissed it. And despite his love for Mary Steenburgen, his biggest idols have always been big, muscular, sweaty men. I give you his hockey obsession as exhibit A.

And can we say 'friend of Dorothy'? I think we can. One of my friends at college must have seen that damned film a hundred times but even he couldn't quote the entire dialogue. I wouldn't mind betting there's a pair of shiny red shoes in his closet. If I look in it and find a gingham dress, however, I'm going to have to have words.

So, how did I discover this momentous information? Well, I admit, I'm going on a hunch here, but he's damned well flirting with Counsellor Markas of the Uromians. What's my proof? He's listening. Intently. To every single word the good counsellor is saying. He never listens like that to anyone! He's smiling! At a diplomat! No, this isn't right. Jack's either wanting to get into this guy's pants or he's been taken over by a gay alien. No question. Especially when I see him batting his eyelids at the guy. That's my trick... er, oops. I didn't say that, okay?

If that man touches Jack, I'll cut his fingers off. And if this woman, who is clinging onto my arm and digging her long nails into my skin doesn't stop with that right now...

"Doctor Jackson?" I hear her screechy voice and turn to look at her, a fixed smile on my face.

"Madam Counsellor?"

"Is something wrong? You seem distracted."

Ah, my chance has arrived. "I'm sorry, I just remembered something I needed to speak to my commander about. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I shall return as soon as I can."

Like sometime next year. Hopefully we'll have locked out their address from the dialling computer by then. If Hammond won't agree to that, I'll throw coffee into the machine or something.

I make good my escape and get close to Jack. As I approach I hear, "Never married? You don't know what you've missed out on." That's Jack talking. I walk closer to him and wait for more information to come my way. "Can't say I blame you. One thing's for sure, I won't be settling down with a woman again."

A woman? Specifically? Does he have a man in mind?

Markas is thinking the same way, I think. I know. I've seen that look in the eyes of sharks in some of the less than salubrious clubs that I've attended in the past.

"Jack!"

Thank God, I've got his attention.

"Daniel?" Great, that was through gritted teeth.

"May I have a word, please? I remembered some information you will need."

I see frustration in his eyes but I don't back down. Jack sighs and makes his excuses to the counsellor, saying he will return.

Maybe when hell freezes over.

"So? What's so damned important that you dragged me away?" he demands as I take him outside the building and into a garden with high hedges to hide behind.

Dammit. Now I've got to think and think fast. Okay, when fighting fire, sometimes you need to use fire.

"I was just trying to save your sorry hide, that's all," I hiss.

"Excuse me? Did you see a sudden influx of Jaffa about to burst into the room? Was there a threat of earthquake? WHAT?"

Now I'm glad this was a diplomatic shindig because not only were SG-1 forced to come here but SG-9 as well.

"Jack, don't be an ass. Look, if you want to get into the counsellor's shorts, then fine. But do yourself a favour and stop being so fucking obvious. Major Kovachek was looking at you as if he was guessing."

"Whatd'ya mean?!" he demands.

"Oh, please, Jack. Don't insult my intelligence. You've spent the last hour talking to a guy who's the intellectual equivalent of a slug. He's about as fascinating as amoebic dysentery. The only thing he's got going for him is a reasonable face and what appears - under those extremely revealing pants - to be a tight ass. If you want to fuck him, then go do it, but don't let yourself get caught for crying out loud!"

This is good. He's doing a very accurate impression of a goldfish. His mouth is opening and closing and nothing's coming out. If he carries on like this, I'm going to rename him 'Bob'.

I wait for his answer. He's still doing the fish impression. It's been going on for three minutes thirty seconds... now. I wonder how long it's going to continue? And I really should look away from his mouth. It's so damned inviting!

Finally, he shuts it. No, he's opened it again. Yes, he's shut it. Dear God, man, make up your mind!

"Obvious?" he squeaks.

I smile. I can't help it.

"Very. Blatantly, even."

"Shit. I'm in..."

"Deep shit?" I offer helpfully.

His face screws up. "Fuck you."

Before my brain catches up with my mouth, the inevitable happens. "Okay. If you want."

Nice going Jackson. Say goodbye to a deep and abiding friendship and possibly a job.

"WHAT?"

I put my hand on his mouth. Dammit! Why do I have to do stupid things like that? I felt his tongue... Oh hell.

"Jack, hush! Look, what I meant to say was..."

This time he puts his hand on my mouth. It takes all my self-control, of which I apparently have a lot less than I thought, to not lick it.

"You mean that?" he asks quietly.

I nod cautiously. Well, I can't answer, his hand's still on my mouth.

"Really?"

I put my hand on his - another bad move - and lower it so that I can speak.

"I guess," I shrug. "If you want to."

He looks at me as if he's thinking about it. I'm not very encouraged when he drops his shoulders and sighs, turns and finds a garden seat and, well, sits.

I don't move. I mean, was he walking away from me? Or was he just feeling tired?

"Daniel, get your ass over here, will ya?"

Okay. Tired. I can relate. These diplomatic deals are exhausting.

"I guess I'm out of practice," he complains. "It's been a while. And to be honest, I'm fed up of not getting any."

I laugh, but sympathetically. Tentatively, I put my hand on his knee.

"Tell me about it, Jack."

I decide to try to cheer him up.

"Markas is interested," I remind him. "And he's probably a real bottom boy."

He laughs at me.

"And you?"

I shrug. "Depends on the guy I'm with," I reply. "For the right guy..." I say nothing more and just look at him hopefully. He'd be the right guy. And I can be a total slut when I want to be.

I'm relieved when he doesn't pull away or look disapproving. That would hurt.

"So, what gave me away?" he asks.

"Ping," I reply sagely.

"Ping?"

"You pinged. Big time. Took one look at you flirting with the guy and it was kind of like church bells ringing rather than pinging, actually. Ding dong, Jack's gay..."

"Bi," he snaps.

"Big deal," I snap back. "Bi then. Anyway, it was a giveaway."

"To someone who knows how to look," he sniffs.

I don't tell him that someone on SG-9 knows how to look. And how to do other things, too. I just raise my eyebrow and I think he gets the message. And no, it's not Kovachek. I'm not saying who it is, either, I'm not a snitch. Or a kiss-and-tell kinda guy, for that matter.

He sighs again.

"Fed up?" I ask.

He nods.

"Want to do something about it?" I push.

He nods - or at least he starts to nod then he jerks his head up and looks at me.

"Daniel," he drawls. "Are you suggesting that we...?"

I try to look nonchalant and not at all like my brain is screaming 'YES! For fuck's sake, fuck me!'

"Well, if you're interested," I say and congratulate myself on not dropping to my knees and starting to blow him.

What the hell is up with me? Apart from the obvious. This is Jack! My best friend. The bane of my existence. More of a pain in the ass than a whole bunch of haemorrhoids having an allergic reaction to the ointment for them.

What's kind of scaring me is the fact that he hasn't run and is, in fact, looking interested. This could be, er, interesting.

"I might be," he concedes.

Great! Fucking wonderful. Make a guy feel special, why don't you?

He looks at me in shock and it dawns on me I said that out loud. Me and my big mouth.

Before he can react, I get up and start walking away from him. I'm not sticking around to find out what he's going to say to that.

I don't want to go back into the reception, though. It'll mean facing up to the dragon I escaped from earlier. Talk about being obvious. Mercifully, I've got being oblivious off to a fine art.

I feel strong fingers grab my arm again and I think it's her. I can't help it, I spin around, ready to tell her to let me go. I can't bear being manhandled - or womanhandled for that matter.

It's Jack. I should have guessed.

"Daniel, I didn't mean it like that," he says.

"Oh? Then how did you mean it? Any port in a storm?" I hiss. "I'll do if you can't have the Counsellor?"

I can't keep my mouth shut. I had no idea how much he could hurt me with a few words. Why should it matter so much? All he's looking for is sex, isn't he? Do I really want to be a one-night stand? If I wanted anonymous sex, I'd wait till I got home and go clubbing. There are more than enough places for me to cruise, find a suitable guy and fuck him.

He doesn't let me go. I wish he would.

Finally, he replies. "Perhaps Markas would do if I couldn't have you," he whispers.

I freeze.

"Perhaps?" I have to know.

Again, he waits before he answers. "Definitely."

I start to unfreeze. What the fuck are we going to do now?

"Colonel O'Neill?"

Dammit. It's Kovachek.

"Major," Jack calls, still looking into my eyes. "I'm over here with Doctor Jackson. He's not feeling too well." Stan appears around the corner of the hedge and is probably surprised when we don't really look at him.

"Doctor? What's wrong?"

"Er, headache," I say. "Allergies, I guess. There's a lot of perfume in that room. My antihistamines are stopping me sneezing but sometimes the smell gives me a migraine."

"I can relate," Stan sympathises. "I've been talking to Madam Counsellor Anterine. She must have bathed in that stuff. It's so sweet and sickly that it made my stomach churn."

"Is anyone missing us?" Jack asks, trying to sound like he cares. He's dropped his hand off my arm - he did it as soon as he heard Stan's voice - but he made sure he touched my hand before he drew away.

"Counsellor Markas is asking about you," Stan replies. Mercifully, he doesn't sound like he's made any connections. Well, I shouldn't be surprised, I lied about his apparent perceptiveness. On the ping scale, Stan doesn't even rate a zero.

He looks at me and adds, "And Madam Counsellor Vix is most insistent on seeing you again."

"It was her perfume that set this headache off," I lie smoothly.

Jack raises one of his eyebrows a little. He had no idea I could obfuscate with the best of them (meaning him, naturally).

"I think I should take him home," Jack suddenly announces. "He won't be able to drive. I've seen him when these things develop. It's dark room and 'let me die' time."

Stan chuckles quietly. I think he's guessed that Jack is using it as an excuse to get himself away from this place. Mercifully, I don't think he has a clue as to why.

"I'll make your excuses," he says, letting us off the hook.

"Thanks," Jack sighs. "I owe you one."

Stan looks at him with a wry grin. "Sir, I've lost count of how many you owe me."

I can't help but smile at that. Stan doesn't crack too many jokes but when he does, they're on the money.

Jack pats him on the shoulder and then puts his hand on mine and propels me towards the gate, fishing the GDO out of his pocket with the other.

Hammond was very sympathetic, especially as I smelt like a tart's boudoir from Vix' perfume. Eau de Harlequin romance. Yuck.

Anyway, he sent me home, ordering Jack to accompany me.

We aren't really saying anything. Of course, I have no migraine, but I do have a bit of a headache from the stress.

He accompanies me indoors as ordered. What he wasn't ordered to do is what may well happen next.

The door shuts and I deliberately head for the kitchen and the coffee pot. Before I can put it on, however, I feel his hand on my arm again. He turns me around slowly.

"I said, 'definitely', Daniel," he growls, making me shudder.

I can't help it, my head tilts back exposing my throat. I feel like a sacrificial animal, ready to die on the altar. The analogy doesn't get any better when he takes my offer and bites my throat, feeling like he's going to break the skin and drink me dry.

It has the desired effect. My headache's gone. So have my legs. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me towards him tightly.

The movement breaks me out of my near-trance and I drop my head, forcing him to stop biting my neck and to allow me access to his mouth. Oh yeah, he's good at this. I push his body against the kitchen table and moments later, he's bent backwards over it and I'm on top of him.

This is good. This is better than good. This is incredible.

Uh oh, the table's creaki...

Shit. Ah well, I guess I needed a new one, really.

"D'n'l?"

"Yeah?"

"Gerroff."

Oops. I stand up and haul him up with me. He looks at me with that lopsided grin he has and then he starts snickering, then laughing out loud. I can't do anything but join in.

"Portentous?" he asks.

I shrug. "Would anything else have happened? This is us, Jack."

He nods. "This is so 'us', Daniel."

I understand what he means. He isn't talking 'roll in the hay'-time. Neither is he looking for the one-night stand. This is us.

Works for me!