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icarusA little something to tide over the Walls Of Jericho readers, while I sort out Teal'c unexpected contribution to Jericho.
Welcome Home, Mr. General, Sir
By Icarus
Jack casually spun the steering wheel, glorying in the nice, spring morning, windows down, a breeze brushing his hair -- and the last six days were out of sight, out of mind. Free from the SGC at last.
With rank came hassles. He knew that going in. But he'd never planned to have his weekends so consistently screwed up. Delegate, everyone said, delegate.
Hell. He noticed there weren't any volunteers. The first ones to tell him how to do his job were the fastest out of the room.
He turned down the lazy curving suburban streets, past the buzz of hedge-trimmers and the green smell of yard work. Another thing he needed to delegate these days -- and soon, before the neighbors complained. He adjusted his sunglasses in the rearview mirror and decided to take a little side-street, out of his way but -- yep, there it was. Guess who parked in the wrong spot again. Mrs. Kiley was going to leave another pissed off note on his windshield. He sped up a little as he passed the shitty blue Isuzu.
Sure enough, the flag was up on the mailbox. Their little signal.
Even without that cue, senses he couldn't explain but didn't question told him the house had a warm, occupied feel to it, even as he pulled into the driveway. He hoped somebody had thought to pick up some groceries, because there was no way he was going out again. No. Way.
He tossed his hat on the seat, sighed as he locked the door, rubbed his eyes and tried to forget everything that had to do with Generals, whining Tok'ra, Gou'ald alliances gone south, Pentagon budgets and all that annoying shit. The worst part was he couldn't even blame his predecessor like anyone else would: General Hammond had done his best.
Knock it off, O'Neill. Leave it all at the front door.
Uniform buttons undone as he came up the walk, well, that helped. So did finding the door unlocked, and the smell of stale coffee. The carpeted floor was streaked with morning sunlight and Sara's carefully placed pictures were slightly askew, no longer 'model home' perfect. It seemed somehow right, although Jack instinctively straightened the one by the door with a forefinger. He shifted his sunglasses to the top of his head.
He snorted at the mess in his living room.
A pair of over-sized sneakers kicked off in front of the TV, a jumble of papers around a laptop in the kitchen, cereal bowl in the sink, folded newspaper on the floor. Predictably a book was left open on the arm of the couch, and two more stacked on the cushions. Jack was used to the multi-book habit. Not that he understood how anyone could read more than one book at a time.
Annnd… down the hall, a towel slung over the shower curtain. Jack peered in. Another book stuffed in the magazine rack.
The usual jacket dangling on the bedroom doorknob.
Who needed the mailbox flag, when you could follow a trail of undomesticated Daniel-crumbs, all the way to the bedroom?
Daniel was sprawled on his side, which meant he was only cat-napping or reading, 'cause he usually slept in a ball. He turned over at the soft squeak of the door, blankets sliding to expose a broad bare shoulder.
Glasses still on; so it was reading this time.
Daniel had that sleepy, bedroom-y look. "Oh, hey Jack…." he mumbled.
"Told ya not to wait up."
Jack sat down on the end of the bed and tossed his uniform jacket onto a chair, draped over Daniel's clothes. The shirt followed, and it felt soooo good to toe off his shoes.
"I didn't."
Jack let the lie pass. This is what a turtle feels like, he thought, taking off its shell. Jack stripped down a faded gray t-shirt and underwear, leaving his pants on the floor.
"I mean, not intentionally that is." Daniel rubbed the back of his head, distracted. "There was just so much to do. And I certainly get enough peace and quiet around here these days."
Jack motioned for Daniel to move over and scootched under the covers. "Was that a complaint? That sounded like a complaint."
"Well, no, not exactly…"
"A complaint requires a form LC-4175(b)," Jack said in tired autopilot; an arm hid his eyes. "And be sure to file it in the shit-can. Save me the trouble. Right next to the Tok'ra's and the usual cafeteria whining…." He pulled the blankets over his head.
"Yeah, the cafeteria." Daniel took a breath as leaned up on an elbow. "Since, ah, now that you're the boss, I wonder if you could do something about… that…." He caught Jack's death glare, and gave him his smug little tight-lipped smile. The really annoying one. "… never mind."
"Don't joke with me, Daniel. You have no idea how many guns I have tucked away in this room."
"I've found four. So far." Daniel squinted and blinked at him. "And no sane man keeps grenades in his house, let alone his bedroom."
"They're perfectly safe if you leave the pins in." Jack shut his eyes and snuggled into the sheets, lashes dark against his worn face. He curled up towards the warm spot Daniel had left, and the weight of Daniel's arm draped over his waist. Mmm. Nice.
"Way more than four," Jack added with a smile. Couldn't help it.
"I feel so much… safer," Daniel said doubtfully.
He chuckled to himself as he felt Daniel scan the room, looking for more possible hiding places. Yeah, good luck with that, Daniel.
~*~*~
The irritation of a sunbeam was warm, then hot, then grew too-bright across Jack's eyes. He became slowly aware of its orange glow. And recalled that 'orange' meant 'late.' Very late.
On his one day off.
Hey….
"Daniel…!" he growled as he made a face. He rolled away from the sunbeam, his body tired and cranky. "What's with not waking me?!"
There was no answer.
Jack sat up slowly, more slowly than he would have liked, and regathered himself for another, louder complaint, when he heard the familiar soft pad of footsteps on carpet. He felt bleary down to his toes, and resented it.
"Oh. The king awakens," the sardonic voice answered behind him. Jack turned, and found Daniel naked in the bedroom doorway, folding his glasses in his hands, as innocent as a choirboy. "Look Jack, I'm not a hotel clerk for you to leave a wake-up call. Besides, you were obviously exhausted."
Jack scowled and shifted aside the stubborn covers to free his legs. His mouth tasted like something had crawled in there and died. "What's with the… ah… naked thing?" He made a spiraling gesture at Daniel. "Have you been naked all day?"
"No. Actually, I've been naked all weekend. You just haven't been here for most of it."
"I told you: no naked in the house. What if the neighbors saw?"
Daniel's eyebrows raised. He folded his arms, and his soft cock gave a slight distracting swing between his legs. He leaned against the doorjamb. "Are you implying your neighbors are peeping Toms?"
"Yes." Jack nodded emphatically, "Yes, that's what neighbors are for. It's the mission in life of all neighbors: getting into your business."
But of course Daniel had that 'humoring Jack' look and wasn't listening. "Well, I figure that my state of dress ought to reflect my station around here."
"What?" Jack really knew better; Daniel's comment sounded staged.
Sure enough, Daniel took a deep breath. "Yes. In ancient Egypt one was permitted clothing according to one's social status, if one were a slave. So a low-status slave, such as a laborer for example, was permitted no clothing at all, while a slave such as a scribe might be allowed to cover themselves, but not permitted shoes or anything on their upper body."
Jack peered up at him, squinting. The orange glow lit the hallway behind Daniel, and followed the curve of his thigh. "You mean in the Old Testament all those bible guys were running around naked?"
Daniel looked confused, eyebrows suddenly drawn in thought. "Well, uh, yeah, I suppose they were, though I hadn't really thought about it like that…."
"'Cause that definitely wasn't in the movie. I would've remembered that." Bible porn. Who would've thought?
"Movie -? What mo--" Daniel had that open-mouthed look of frustration, then shook his head. "Never mind. My point is -- it was an ironic statement."
"No. You were standing around the kitchen naked where Mrs. Peterson can get a load of your ass, or something else if she's lucky."
Daniel sighed. Ignoring him of course. "My point is, you walk in here like you're still the general, giving orders… and I'm…I've…." Daniel held his hands up in something between frustration and a strangling gesture.
"When have you ever followed orders?" But Daniel shut his eyes.
Oh, for crying out loud. On his day off?
"Look, Daniel. I am a general. 24/7. And I earned it last I looked."
"Not here you're not." And Daniel thumped the wall as he left. Back towards the kitchen, with its big picture window. Shit. His own goddamned house, and didn't he deserve a break?
Jack weighed this in his mind, studying the shadows on the wall. Felt light-headed as he dredged himself out of bed to follow Daniel to the kitchen. Naked. Rehearsing his cheeriest, Hi, Mrs. Peterson. How's the kids?
He strode across the room in three steps and yanked the curtain half-shut, then gently placed his hands on Daniel's shoulders. Daniel gave him that suspicious over-the-shoulder look. With the eyebrow. He must've learned it from Teal'c.
"Alright," Jack said, rubbing circles with his thumbs on his warm skin. Still perfectly firm, the young bastard. He yielded to temptation and began to knead the thick base of Daniel's neck, watched his chin tip up as he melted with a soft hmmm. Yeah. That was the sound he liked.
Jack murmured in his ear with a low sigh, already feeling the weight drop off, "Whatever you want, Doctor Jackson."
Welcome Home, Mr. General, Sir
By Icarus
Jack casually spun the steering wheel, glorying in the nice, spring morning, windows down, a breeze brushing his hair -- and the last six days were out of sight, out of mind. Free from the SGC at last.
With rank came hassles. He knew that going in. But he'd never planned to have his weekends so consistently screwed up. Delegate, everyone said, delegate.
Hell. He noticed there weren't any volunteers. The first ones to tell him how to do his job were the fastest out of the room.
He turned down the lazy curving suburban streets, past the buzz of hedge-trimmers and the green smell of yard work. Another thing he needed to delegate these days -- and soon, before the neighbors complained. He adjusted his sunglasses in the rearview mirror and decided to take a little side-street, out of his way but -- yep, there it was. Guess who parked in the wrong spot again. Mrs. Kiley was going to leave another pissed off note on his windshield. He sped up a little as he passed the shitty blue Isuzu.
Sure enough, the flag was up on the mailbox. Their little signal.
Even without that cue, senses he couldn't explain but didn't question told him the house had a warm, occupied feel to it, even as he pulled into the driveway. He hoped somebody had thought to pick up some groceries, because there was no way he was going out again. No. Way.
He tossed his hat on the seat, sighed as he locked the door, rubbed his eyes and tried to forget everything that had to do with Generals, whining Tok'ra, Gou'ald alliances gone south, Pentagon budgets and all that annoying shit. The worst part was he couldn't even blame his predecessor like anyone else would: General Hammond had done his best.
Knock it off, O'Neill. Leave it all at the front door.
Uniform buttons undone as he came up the walk, well, that helped. So did finding the door unlocked, and the smell of stale coffee. The carpeted floor was streaked with morning sunlight and Sara's carefully placed pictures were slightly askew, no longer 'model home' perfect. It seemed somehow right, although Jack instinctively straightened the one by the door with a forefinger. He shifted his sunglasses to the top of his head.
He snorted at the mess in his living room.
A pair of over-sized sneakers kicked off in front of the TV, a jumble of papers around a laptop in the kitchen, cereal bowl in the sink, folded newspaper on the floor. Predictably a book was left open on the arm of the couch, and two more stacked on the cushions. Jack was used to the multi-book habit. Not that he understood how anyone could read more than one book at a time.
Annnd… down the hall, a towel slung over the shower curtain. Jack peered in. Another book stuffed in the magazine rack.
The usual jacket dangling on the bedroom doorknob.
Who needed the mailbox flag, when you could follow a trail of undomesticated Daniel-crumbs, all the way to the bedroom?
Daniel was sprawled on his side, which meant he was only cat-napping or reading, 'cause he usually slept in a ball. He turned over at the soft squeak of the door, blankets sliding to expose a broad bare shoulder.
Glasses still on; so it was reading this time.
Daniel had that sleepy, bedroom-y look. "Oh, hey Jack…." he mumbled.
"Told ya not to wait up."
Jack sat down on the end of the bed and tossed his uniform jacket onto a chair, draped over Daniel's clothes. The shirt followed, and it felt soooo good to toe off his shoes.
"I didn't."
Jack let the lie pass. This is what a turtle feels like, he thought, taking off its shell. Jack stripped down a faded gray t-shirt and underwear, leaving his pants on the floor.
"I mean, not intentionally that is." Daniel rubbed the back of his head, distracted. "There was just so much to do. And I certainly get enough peace and quiet around here these days."
Jack motioned for Daniel to move over and scootched under the covers. "Was that a complaint? That sounded like a complaint."
"Well, no, not exactly…"
"A complaint requires a form LC-4175(b)," Jack said in tired autopilot; an arm hid his eyes. "And be sure to file it in the shit-can. Save me the trouble. Right next to the Tok'ra's and the usual cafeteria whining…." He pulled the blankets over his head.
"Yeah, the cafeteria." Daniel took a breath as leaned up on an elbow. "Since, ah, now that you're the boss, I wonder if you could do something about… that…." He caught Jack's death glare, and gave him his smug little tight-lipped smile. The really annoying one. "… never mind."
"Don't joke with me, Daniel. You have no idea how many guns I have tucked away in this room."
"I've found four. So far." Daniel squinted and blinked at him. "And no sane man keeps grenades in his house, let alone his bedroom."
"They're perfectly safe if you leave the pins in." Jack shut his eyes and snuggled into the sheets, lashes dark against his worn face. He curled up towards the warm spot Daniel had left, and the weight of Daniel's arm draped over his waist. Mmm. Nice.
"Way more than four," Jack added with a smile. Couldn't help it.
"I feel so much… safer," Daniel said doubtfully.
He chuckled to himself as he felt Daniel scan the room, looking for more possible hiding places. Yeah, good luck with that, Daniel.
~*~*~
The irritation of a sunbeam was warm, then hot, then grew too-bright across Jack's eyes. He became slowly aware of its orange glow. And recalled that 'orange' meant 'late.' Very late.
On his one day off.
Hey….
"Daniel…!" he growled as he made a face. He rolled away from the sunbeam, his body tired and cranky. "What's with not waking me?!"
There was no answer.
Jack sat up slowly, more slowly than he would have liked, and regathered himself for another, louder complaint, when he heard the familiar soft pad of footsteps on carpet. He felt bleary down to his toes, and resented it.
"Oh. The king awakens," the sardonic voice answered behind him. Jack turned, and found Daniel naked in the bedroom doorway, folding his glasses in his hands, as innocent as a choirboy. "Look Jack, I'm not a hotel clerk for you to leave a wake-up call. Besides, you were obviously exhausted."
Jack scowled and shifted aside the stubborn covers to free his legs. His mouth tasted like something had crawled in there and died. "What's with the… ah… naked thing?" He made a spiraling gesture at Daniel. "Have you been naked all day?"
"No. Actually, I've been naked all weekend. You just haven't been here for most of it."
"I told you: no naked in the house. What if the neighbors saw?"
Daniel's eyebrows raised. He folded his arms, and his soft cock gave a slight distracting swing between his legs. He leaned against the doorjamb. "Are you implying your neighbors are peeping Toms?"
"Yes." Jack nodded emphatically, "Yes, that's what neighbors are for. It's the mission in life of all neighbors: getting into your business."
But of course Daniel had that 'humoring Jack' look and wasn't listening. "Well, I figure that my state of dress ought to reflect my station around here."
"What?" Jack really knew better; Daniel's comment sounded staged.
Sure enough, Daniel took a deep breath. "Yes. In ancient Egypt one was permitted clothing according to one's social status, if one were a slave. So a low-status slave, such as a laborer for example, was permitted no clothing at all, while a slave such as a scribe might be allowed to cover themselves, but not permitted shoes or anything on their upper body."
Jack peered up at him, squinting. The orange glow lit the hallway behind Daniel, and followed the curve of his thigh. "You mean in the Old Testament all those bible guys were running around naked?"
Daniel looked confused, eyebrows suddenly drawn in thought. "Well, uh, yeah, I suppose they were, though I hadn't really thought about it like that…."
"'Cause that definitely wasn't in the movie. I would've remembered that." Bible porn. Who would've thought?
"Movie -? What mo--" Daniel had that open-mouthed look of frustration, then shook his head. "Never mind. My point is -- it was an ironic statement."
"No. You were standing around the kitchen naked where Mrs. Peterson can get a load of your ass, or something else if she's lucky."
Daniel sighed. Ignoring him of course. "My point is, you walk in here like you're still the general, giving orders… and I'm…I've…." Daniel held his hands up in something between frustration and a strangling gesture.
"When have you ever followed orders?" But Daniel shut his eyes.
Oh, for crying out loud. On his day off?
"Look, Daniel. I am a general. 24/7. And I earned it last I looked."
"Not here you're not." And Daniel thumped the wall as he left. Back towards the kitchen, with its big picture window. Shit. His own goddamned house, and didn't he deserve a break?
Jack weighed this in his mind, studying the shadows on the wall. Felt light-headed as he dredged himself out of bed to follow Daniel to the kitchen. Naked. Rehearsing his cheeriest, Hi, Mrs. Peterson. How's the kids?
He strode across the room in three steps and yanked the curtain half-shut, then gently placed his hands on Daniel's shoulders. Daniel gave him that suspicious over-the-shoulder look. With the eyebrow. He must've learned it from Teal'c.
"Alright," Jack said, rubbing circles with his thumbs on his warm skin. Still perfectly firm, the young bastard. He yielded to temptation and began to knead the thick base of Daniel's neck, watched his chin tip up as he melted with a soft hmmm. Yeah. That was the sound he liked.
Jack murmured in his ear with a low sigh, already feeling the weight drop off, "Whatever you want, Doctor Jackson."
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no subject
Date: 2005-02-20 09:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-20 09:45 pm (UTC)*shouts*
Everyone! If you missed it the first time, go read Crossroads (http://www.livejournal.com/users/titti/229896.html), now! You'll love it, I know you will! *puts down megaphone*
Hmm. That would be more effective if it weren't buried in a comment.
Icarus
I agree...
Date: 2005-02-20 11:34 pm (UTC)Re: I agree...
Date: 2005-02-20 11:42 pm (UTC)Icarus
Re: I agree...
Date: 2005-02-21 01:31 am (UTC)I'm actually waiting for the last episode to make sure that canon doesn't screw my story like Reckoning did.
no subject
Date: 2005-02-20 09:29 pm (UTC)Anyway, hopefully this is part 1 and 2 from many-many parts, right? *smiles sweetly and crosses fingers*
no subject
Date: 2005-02-20 09:42 pm (UTC)Sorry, this one seems to be complete. But I had to get it out of the way to make room for all the other fics. :D
Icarus
Whew!
Date: 2005-02-20 11:46 pm (UTC)But thanks for remembering us struggling Wall of Jerico fans. You know, Teal'c may seem to stick to the background and stay out of the way, but when he has something to say, there's no stopping him! Go Teal'c!
no subject
Date: 2005-02-20 09:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-20 10:04 pm (UTC)Icarus
no subject
Date: 2005-02-20 10:13 pm (UTC)I'm sad to read in one of the comments that you think of finishing it like this. I think it could became a very nice fic, what with the great characterization and the relationship dynamics. Maybe if we ask nicely? :-) You've done great things in bringing some fresh POV in SG1 fandom, I'd love to see more of this.
no subject
Date: 2005-02-20 10:29 pm (UTC)Icarus
no subject
Date: 2005-02-20 11:15 pm (UTC)I love how this is both lazy/happy and pissed/upset at the same time. Jack has issues. His issues do not go away when confronted with a naked Daniel. I admire him for that - were I confronted with a naked Daniel my own name would most likely be beyond me.
Very lovely.
(more Teal'c in Walls of Jericho? Excuse me while I do my dance of triumph)
no subject
Date: 2005-02-23 07:56 am (UTC)Hmm. You've a point there. On the other hand, after they've been together for years....
(more Teal'c in Walls of Jericho? Excuse me while I do my dance of triumph)
Oh yes, he's really screwing up my outline. *snerk*
Icarus
no subject
Date: 2005-02-20 11:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-23 07:57 am (UTC)Hmm. I'd better find a beta and send it in to Area52, hmm?
Icarus