Just posting an old (2004) Jack/Daniel fic of mine to see if I can figure this livejournal thing out. Pay no attention to the chick behind the curtain.
Season: Non-specific mid-season 4
Word Count: 825
Disclaimer: Stargate's not mine, yadda yadda
Summary: Jack's unhappy and he doesn't want to talk about it. And he wants to do it at Daniel's place.
The door opens. “Jack.” A sigh. “Why are you here?”
“I’m not sure.”
Blues on the stereo inside fills the silence, the steady throb of the bass is countered by the wail of the sax, and a smoky voice ponders his inability to accept the world the way it is.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“I thought we decided that it wasn’t…”
“You decided. I wasn’t given a choice.”
“That’s not fair! I…”
“I know, I… That’s not what I came for anyway.”
Softly, “I just…” Anguished. Raw. “I used to have this best friend who I could talk to about anything. Or not talk. Just be. And now… that’s just gone. And I can’t…” The flow of words is pinched off, choked. A quick clearing of the throat. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I’ll…”
“Just… come inside.”
An hour, perhaps more, passes comfortably. Not talking about it. Both on the couch, Jack channel-surfing, Daniel reading, each drawing the other’s attention to something funny, something interesting, something ridiculous. Nothing in particular, just… connection. Jack runs across ‘Who’s Line Is It, Anyway?’ and they spend the next half hour laughing their fool heads off, tears streaming down their faces. They wind up leaning against each other, TV off, the occasional chuckle breaking through the silence. Eventually they become aware of their position and move away, and the silence spins out between them, no longer comfortable.
“Why couldn’t we make it work?”
“No, I’m not trying to… I just mean… why? We’re great together.”
“Let it go.”
“No, Jack. I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to analyze it to death. Just… no. You said you missed us, our friendship. Well, so have I, and I don’t want to… can we please just...”
“Just be? Yeah, we can do that.”
Hours pass. They watch movies and heckle the characters. Darkness falls outside. The delivery guy leaves tempting little white boxes of goodness that they put on the coffee table. Jack and Daniel eat out of the boxes, sitting on the floor, enjoying one treat after another, occasionally passing one to the other, encouraging him to try this or that. They talk about everything – high school classes and college romances, a trip taken when Daniel was only five, the first time Jack got to fly – and nothing – base gossip, a stupid show Jack still can’t believe he watched, Daniel’s latest tactic in his ongoing mission to drive MacKenzie crazy. They finally finish and pick up all the little boxes. Daniel insists on taking the trash out. When he returns, Jack is laying on the couch with yet another movie playing on the TV.
Jack eyes him, then rolls to his side and scoots back so he’s right up against the back of the couch. “Come here, there’s plenty of room.” He opens his arms.
“We used to do this all the time, before… It doesn’t have to mean anything, just… Just come here.”
Daniel hesitates, and then kicks off his shoes and joins Jack on the couch, his back pressed against Jack’s chest, Jack’s arms around him. They’re tense for a few minutes, and then Daniel takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and they relax into each other.
“I’m glad I got the extra large couch.”
Jack lets out a snort of laughter that ruffles Daniel’s hair.
The movie plays on.
“I think it was expectations.” Daniel’s voice is very quiet, barely audible over what passes for dialog onscreen.
“Expectations?” Jack’s tone is equally soft. Gentle.
“We never really talked about what we expected out of a… relationship. We just sort of fell into it.”
“And fell right back out of it.”
“Exactly. We had no way of knowing what the other person needed, and then when they didn’t get it…”
“They got pissed.”
“I think that has to be it, I mean, we’re good together…”
“We’re great together.”
“And the sex was…”
“Great. Explosive. Mind boggling.”
The movie ends and the credits roll. Silence winds its way through the room, but neither makes a move to get up.
“So, do you think we could try again?”
“We’d have to talk. A lot”
“And mushy relationship stuff?”
Daniel snorts. “Yeah.”
“We absolutely, positively have to?”
“And that’ll get me you?”
“That’ll get you us.”
Jack’s arms tighten around him. “I’m no good at that sort of thing.”
“Neither am I.”
“I don’t want to screw it up.”
“Neither do I.”
Jack is quiet for a moment. “You’ll tell me if I’m getting it wrong? Before you get an overwhelming urge to show me the door?
“If you promise to do the same for me.”
Jack buries his face against Daniel’s neck and takes a deep breath. “Okay.”