![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brainofckTitle: Five Things That Never Happened to Daniel Jackson (and Jack O'Neill)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
muck_a_luck, posting in brainofck
Pairing: Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill
Rating: R
Summary: A lifetime of things that never happened.
Content/warnings: None.
Words: 2,870
Disclaimer: If anybody is planning a script like this for SG-1, I'm certainly not going to claim any rights to it. However, I'd be delighted to work in a co-writing/consulting/first-reader/advisory-type capacity, with my fee to be negotiated at that time. :D
Archive rights: Absolutely none. My journals only.muck_a_luck and brainofck
Beta: Thanks togreen_grrl, both for the quick beta and the second "thing."
The Matrix: Damn matrix. This one doesn't fit. The Matrix is located here.
Note: I have presumed birthdates of October 1952 for Jack, per Wiki, and July 1965 for Daniel.
For my loyal![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
rugbytacklers, I have done a Stargate crash course located here.
Paris, 1970
"You're an American," Daniel said in surprise.
The man blinked down at him.
"So are you!" he replied teasingly. Daniel giggled.
"So, are you lost or not?" the man demanded, this time in English. That made Daniel mad. He pushed back his hair from his eyes and glowered up at the man, who was grinning down at him.
"I am not lost," he stated in his best grown up voice.
"Well, little boys don't usually wander around all alone."
"I'm not little. I'm five! Daddy says I'm big."
The man was trying to look very serious now, but Daniel could see the smile around his eyes. He stood up taller.
"Okay," the man agreed. "Where's your Dad, then?"
"My Mommy and Daddy are at a gallery. I know how to get there," he replied defiantly.
The man was obviously skeptical. Daniel looked around uncertainly. He did know how to get there, but it was far away and he had never gone so far in the city without his parents before.
Everything was big and Daniel was finding it very scary.
The man held out his right hand.
"Well, I'm a lot older than five, and a lot bigger than you. What do you say we find your mommy and daddy together? My name's Jack, by the way."
Daniel didn't let go after the handshake. He felt better holding the big man's hand.
"My name's Daniel," he said.
"Well, lead the way, Danny boy," the man said cheerfully and Daniel was suddenly smiling, too. He tugged the man after him down the sidewalk.
Chicago, 1982
The big hairy man held him by the front of his shirt and pressed the muzzle of the gun to his chest.
"Keep your mouth shut and your hands on the counter. When this guy leaves, you're gonna empty the register and open the safe. Got it?"
The only customer in the store was a tall lanky man in a blue uniform, going through the beer cooler. His name tag read O'Neill. Daniel had noticed it when the man came in.
Daniel's heart was hammering. He recognized the two men from the posters by the back door. What had possessed him to take this stupid job in the first place, much less agree to sub in on second shift? A damned Circle K in the worst possible neighborhood.
At least the police were on the way. He had triggered the alarm as soon as the two robbers had stepped into the pool of light just outside the entrance.
The hairy man stood by the magazines, watching Daniel closely, his weapon held low and hidden by his body. The second man stood at the counter, filling out a lottery ticket, watching O'Neill move through the store, twitching and shifting nervously as he waited.
O'Neill was thoroughly exploring the small store, choosing items and putting them back, seemingly unable to decide what he wanted with his beer. As he followed the soldier's actions, Daniel realized O'Neill was surreptitiously appraising the two gunmen.
Did he know?
The man's gaze crossed Daniel's and it was like an electric shock.
Of course he knew.
The only question was what he might do.
Daniel wanted to shake his head, warn the man off. The police would be here in minutes, maybe seconds. O'Neill didn't need to do anything at all. But Daniel couldn't shake his head, so he tried to look bored and uninterested, as he looked into the eyes of a trained killer thinking about the best way to kill.
O'Neill made his move so suddenly that he took Daniel completely by surprise. The second gunman was face down on the floor screaming, and O'Neill had his gun in his hand. Daniel saw him raise it with smooth, deadly confidence.
What Daniel should have been doing was watching the man by the door.
"Get down, damn it!" shouted his would-be savior, just as Daniel heard the shots. Almost simultaneous, but not quite.
The impact of the bullet in his chest was like nothing Daniel had ever experienced. The pain was blinding. He heard his own scream as he crumpled to the floor.
The police burst in, but the first face that came into his narrowing field of vision was O'Neill's. The soldier was quickly and ruthless pulling at Daniel's clothing, talking to him, asking him questions, calling to the police to get a fucking ambulance here the kid's bleeding out.
Then the world went black.
Chicago, 1984
It was a little place he had never really bothered to visit before. Bar. Tables. Stage. Local bands played here. Steven had recommended coming on nights when there was a jazz act. He said jazz attracted older guys with money to spend and put them in the mood to spend it.
So here was Daniel, nursing a whiskey sour at the bar, dressed like a guy going out to a jazz club. Just a little sexier. A little tighter. A little more like he was looking for something other than a nice night out.
It worked, too. He'd been attracting attention all night. But the guy at the table in the back was the most interested. He kept stealing glances, his eyes drifting away any time Daniel happened to looks his way.
Daniel suspected the man knew perfectly well what Daniel was up to. His very first trick had been earlier in the evening. All he'd had the nerve for was a quick hand job in the men's room, but the guy had paid him fifty bucks for it, so hey, it was a start.
Daniel thought maybe the shy guy might be a pleasant next step.
But he needed a little more wild abandon, he thought, finishing off his glass and catching the bartender's attention.
"One more of these, and one of whatever he's having," he said, gesturing casually towards the man's table.
Drinks in hand, he made his way across the room. The guy saw him coming, and Daniel thought he looked suddenly flustered, as if he didn't know what to do with his eyes and his hands. Daniel smiled to himself, and set the beer down on the table, taking a chair next to his new friend. To anyone watching it would look like Daniel just wanted to see the stage.
Except he sat a little too close. Let their knees touch under the table.
It was a good act. The woman could really sing. She and the band were doing a whole evening of Astrud Gilberto standards. He thought Berimbau was an excellent reason to learn Portuguese. He absently put it on his mental to do list and turned to smile at his companion.
"I'm Daniel," he said.
"Jack," the man managed to choke out, his eyes glued to the stage.
"You've been watching me, Jack," Daniel said quietly. "Like what you see?"
A flicker of eyes in his direction. And the guy was blushing. It was adorable. The evening was looking up. If he could land this guy, he thought he could actually have some fun, and if he came away with some folding money from the deal, well, that was gravy.
"Yeah," Jack agreed. "I've never really done this before," he confided.
"Me neither," Daniel said with a chuckle.
That got Jack's attention.
"But I just saw you..."
Daniel shrugged and took a sip from his glass.
"So what was it, then. Did you blow him?"
Daniel raised an eyebrow. He couldn't believe it. The man sounded jealous.
"Is there some code of ethics I'd be breaking by telling you? Do whores kiss and tell?" he asked.
"I thought whores didn't kiss at all," Jack replied.
"I'd kiss you," Daniel said.
It slipped out before he could stop himself.
Then, since he'd already said it, he did it. Leaned in and brushed his lips against Jack's. When Jack seemed hesitant he whispered, "Just jerked him off. That's all."
Jack sighed as Daniel gently caressed his lower lip with his teeth.
"So what do you want from me, Jack?" he asked. "I'm all yours."
"The night," Jack said roughly, turning his eyes back to the stage again. "How much would that put me back?"
Daniel thought about it. Huh. He had no idea what to say. He hadn't thought he'd venture beyond what could be done in a few minutes in a toilet stall. What would he earn in a night, if he stayed here? All things considered, he figured he'd be insanely lucky to land another three guys. That would be another $150. He licked his lips and tried to sound like he knew what he was doing.
"Two hundred, and you get us a room."
He watched Jack consider it.
"Done," Jack agreed. And having made his bargain, suddenly seemed more confident. "They've got rooms upstairs, right?"
Daniel nodded. The club was in the first floor of a nice enough hotel. Not too fancy. Another reason Steven had recommended it.
He trailed along behind Jack as he left the club and went out into the lobby to the hotel's desk. He booked the room without hesitation or apparent embarrassment, despite the fact that Daniel was standing right there.
"Can you give me one where I can hear the music?" he asked.
The desk attendant nodded.
And they could hear the music. The rhythms were perfect, and the music was ridiculously romantic and Daniel found it easy to imagine what it would be like to fall in love with someone like Jack, whose kisses were sweet and deep and confident. Whose hands trembled, but who seemed to know exactly what to do and exactly what he wanted. Who seemed to worship him with every kiss and touch and with his mouth and with his cock and who wrapped himself around Daniel when he was done and slept with his nose pressed into Daniel's hair.
They didn't say much. Daniel said he was a student. Jack said he was getting married soon. He said he hadn't expected to want someone like Daniel and Daniel laughed and said "Thank you!" wryly, and Jack just grinned at him and flipped him over on his belly and rolled on another condom.
In the morning, Daniel squirmed out from under Jack's arm. He suspected Jack was awake, though he pretended to be asleep. The agreed payment lay on the dresser where Jack had dropped it last night. Daniel left it there, with a slip of the hotel's notepaper. He wrote his phone number and then let the door shut and latch softly behind him.
Lima, 1986
The man sat down at his table without waiting to be invited.
Daniel ignored him.
"I don't usually see gringos in here," the man commented, taking a long draught from his glass. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?"
Daniel scowled, not taking his eyes off the two men at the bar. He was trying to follow their conversation – catch the nuances. Spanish wasn't his strongest language. He didn't need distractions.
"You know, staring at strangers in this kind of dive is a good way to get yourself killed."
"You know, gringo is Mexican slang. And everybody here knows me," Daniel replied blandly. "The tape recorder's out on the table for everybody to see. And they all want a copy of the paper when I publish it."
The man snorted.
"That is the lamest cover story I've ever heard."
Daniel finally turned a frosty gaze on him.
"I don't usually make small talk with strange Americans in these kinds of places," he said pointedly. People in the room were beginning to notice their conversation.
"Why not?" the man asked. He was noticing people noticing them and his relaxed demeanor was starting to become wary.
"You're all drug runners or gun traders or CIA operatives," Daniel said, a little more loudly than necessary. More heads turned. A couple of guys actually started in the direction of the table. Daniel made a point of obviously waving them off. His unwelcome visitor was getting the hint.
"Hey. No need to set the dogs on me. I'm none of the above!" he protested, spreading his hands to show no hostile intent. Daniel eyed him skeptically.
"So, what are you, then?" he asked.
"Just a guy who knows how to fly a plane," the man replied. "I've got a job taking some important egg head out into the jungle tomorrow."
Daniel raised his eyebrows.
"Just a guy who can fly a plane?" he asked.
"Call me a pilot plus," the man replied. He looked positively smug.
"So, Pilot Plus..."
"Jack," the man corrected him.
"So, Pilot Plus," Daniel continued, "What made you pull up a chair at my table?" He didn't try to sound friendly.
The man leaned closer, so closely that Daniel could smell the heady, spice scent of aftershave and sweat.
"Honestly? I saw you in here and I thought, 'I bet he's a really good lay.'"
The heat in those brown eyes and the aggressive posture had Daniel's friends on their feet again. Again, he raised a forestalling hand.
He smiled ferally at Pilot Plus Jack.
"And what would your chain of command think of that, Major O'Neill?"
He got an equally wolfish grin in return.
"My chain of command would happily let me suck your cock in my Class A's on the White House lawn as long as I get your perfect genius ass to cooperate in this total fuck-up of an assignment. Are you in or out on this one, Jackson?"
The chain of command knew perfectly well what went on between them. But they never sent anyone but Jack. They whored him out for Daniel's services. Jack was probably the only officer in the entire US armed forces under orders by his superiors to be actively homosexual.
Though if they were willing to whore Jack out, there were bound to be others.
Daniel would feel more guilty if Jack didn't love these assignments as much as Daniel looked forward to being persuaded to agree to them.
Daniel pushed back his chair, its legs scraping across the stained plank floor. He might be a long-haired, skinny, near-sighted egg head, but Jack knew who called the shots.
Those brown eyes were focused only on him.
That was what Daniel liked about Jack. Knowing all that pure concentration was focused on him, his work, his safety, his success.
"The White House lawn is too far, and the Class As are too much trouble. I've got a room upstairs."
Jack slammed back the rest of his beer in one long gulp. Daniel collected tape recorder in one hand and notebook in the other. He turned and walked through the crowded room, enjoying the eyes on him and the knowledge that those eyes followed Jack as well as he trailed behind him.
Abydos, 1997
Daniel had scribbled on the box, "Thanks! Next time send diapers!"
At the welcoming feast, Claire was passed from one visitor to another, cooing and smiling at all the attention.
"Not an Egyptian name?" Jack asked.
Daniel smiled shyly, glancing over at his wife, who had just accepted their baby back from Ferretti.
"Shau're was named after her father's mother. It's tradition."
Then the Gate activated and all hell broke loose.
The monster in armor ripped the baby from his wife's arms and dragged Shau're away.
When all was said and done, his wife was gone and their child lay dead in the sand, her fragile skull broken where she had been discarded.
Jack took her tiny, perfect body from Daniel's unresisting hands and gave her to the good Father and lead Daniel Jackson back to Colorado.
And it was war.
Cheyenne Mountain, 2004
Jack fiddled with Daniel's CD player. Rattled around with his discs. Found one and put it on, setting the volume low enough not to travel beyond Daniel's open door.
It was one of Daniel's favorites. He smiled and swayed a little. He had learned Portuguese specifically to be able to hum along to Berimbau.
"I've always felt I knew you before we met," Jack said.
Daniel looked up from his work. Found brown eyes fixed on him. Thought of brown eyes and Portuguese and swaying rhythms and...
Fuck.
"Always?" Daniel asked sharply. "Like even back before Abydos?"
"Yup," Jack agreed.
Daniel turned back to his work.
"That's interesting," he said, in a voice meant to say that it actually wasn't.
Twenty years. Or ten. Depending on how you counted. Ranks. Promotions. PhDs. Missions. No way.
"Yeah. For some reason I have always associated you with really good jazz."
"No." Daniel hissed. Hard, angry eyes falling on the general.
"Yes." Jack argued softly, apologetically. Maybe hopefully.
"There was once a beautiful, blue-eyed student in a club..."
"No there wasn't," Daniel stated flatly. "Because that never happened."
Jack lowered his eyes in acknowledgement. Then he got up. He went back across the room and flipped open the stereo.
He took the disc with him when he left.
Daniel picked up the piece of notepaper from the top of the stereo, folded it, and slipped it into his shirt pocket.
Never trust the stars
When you're about to fall in love
Look for hidden signs before you start to sigh
Never trust the moon
When you're about to taste his kiss
He knows all the lines and he knows how to lie
Just wait for a night
When the skies are all bare and then
If you still care
Never trust your dreams
When you're about to fall in love
For you're dreams may quickly fall apart
So if you're smart
Really smart
Only trust your heart
If you're interested, all my stories, in order, from one page. Also, my fiction recommendations.
Author:
muck_a_luck, posting in brainofckPairing: Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill
Rating: R
Summary: A lifetime of things that never happened.
Content/warnings: None.
Words: 2,870
Disclaimer: If anybody is planning a script like this for SG-1, I'm certainly not going to claim any rights to it. However, I'd be delighted to work in a co-writing/consulting/first-reader/advisory-type capacity, with my fee to be negotiated at that time. :D
Archive rights: Absolutely none. My journals only.
muck_a_luck and brainofckBeta: Thanks to
green_grrl, both for the quick beta and the second "thing." The Matrix: Damn matrix. This one doesn't fit. The Matrix is located here.
Note: I have presumed birthdates of October 1952 for Jack, per Wiki, and July 1965 for Daniel.
For my loyal
rugbytacklers, I have done a Stargate crash course located here.Paris, 1970
"You're an American," Daniel said in surprise.
The man blinked down at him.
"So are you!" he replied teasingly. Daniel giggled.
"So, are you lost or not?" the man demanded, this time in English. That made Daniel mad. He pushed back his hair from his eyes and glowered up at the man, who was grinning down at him.
"I am not lost," he stated in his best grown up voice.
"Well, little boys don't usually wander around all alone."
"I'm not little. I'm five! Daddy says I'm big."
The man was trying to look very serious now, but Daniel could see the smile around his eyes. He stood up taller.
"Okay," the man agreed. "Where's your Dad, then?"
"My Mommy and Daddy are at a gallery. I know how to get there," he replied defiantly.
The man was obviously skeptical. Daniel looked around uncertainly. He did know how to get there, but it was far away and he had never gone so far in the city without his parents before.
Everything was big and Daniel was finding it very scary.
The man held out his right hand.
"Well, I'm a lot older than five, and a lot bigger than you. What do you say we find your mommy and daddy together? My name's Jack, by the way."
Daniel didn't let go after the handshake. He felt better holding the big man's hand.
"My name's Daniel," he said.
"Well, lead the way, Danny boy," the man said cheerfully and Daniel was suddenly smiling, too. He tugged the man after him down the sidewalk.
Chicago, 1982
The big hairy man held him by the front of his shirt and pressed the muzzle of the gun to his chest.
"Keep your mouth shut and your hands on the counter. When this guy leaves, you're gonna empty the register and open the safe. Got it?"
The only customer in the store was a tall lanky man in a blue uniform, going through the beer cooler. His name tag read O'Neill. Daniel had noticed it when the man came in.
Daniel's heart was hammering. He recognized the two men from the posters by the back door. What had possessed him to take this stupid job in the first place, much less agree to sub in on second shift? A damned Circle K in the worst possible neighborhood.
At least the police were on the way. He had triggered the alarm as soon as the two robbers had stepped into the pool of light just outside the entrance.
The hairy man stood by the magazines, watching Daniel closely, his weapon held low and hidden by his body. The second man stood at the counter, filling out a lottery ticket, watching O'Neill move through the store, twitching and shifting nervously as he waited.
O'Neill was thoroughly exploring the small store, choosing items and putting them back, seemingly unable to decide what he wanted with his beer. As he followed the soldier's actions, Daniel realized O'Neill was surreptitiously appraising the two gunmen.
Did he know?
The man's gaze crossed Daniel's and it was like an electric shock.
Of course he knew.
The only question was what he might do.
Daniel wanted to shake his head, warn the man off. The police would be here in minutes, maybe seconds. O'Neill didn't need to do anything at all. But Daniel couldn't shake his head, so he tried to look bored and uninterested, as he looked into the eyes of a trained killer thinking about the best way to kill.
O'Neill made his move so suddenly that he took Daniel completely by surprise. The second gunman was face down on the floor screaming, and O'Neill had his gun in his hand. Daniel saw him raise it with smooth, deadly confidence.
What Daniel should have been doing was watching the man by the door.
"Get down, damn it!" shouted his would-be savior, just as Daniel heard the shots. Almost simultaneous, but not quite.
The impact of the bullet in his chest was like nothing Daniel had ever experienced. The pain was blinding. He heard his own scream as he crumpled to the floor.
The police burst in, but the first face that came into his narrowing field of vision was O'Neill's. The soldier was quickly and ruthless pulling at Daniel's clothing, talking to him, asking him questions, calling to the police to get a fucking ambulance here the kid's bleeding out.
Then the world went black.
Chicago, 1984
It was a little place he had never really bothered to visit before. Bar. Tables. Stage. Local bands played here. Steven had recommended coming on nights when there was a jazz act. He said jazz attracted older guys with money to spend and put them in the mood to spend it.
So here was Daniel, nursing a whiskey sour at the bar, dressed like a guy going out to a jazz club. Just a little sexier. A little tighter. A little more like he was looking for something other than a nice night out.
It worked, too. He'd been attracting attention all night. But the guy at the table in the back was the most interested. He kept stealing glances, his eyes drifting away any time Daniel happened to looks his way.
Daniel suspected the man knew perfectly well what Daniel was up to. His very first trick had been earlier in the evening. All he'd had the nerve for was a quick hand job in the men's room, but the guy had paid him fifty bucks for it, so hey, it was a start.
Daniel thought maybe the shy guy might be a pleasant next step.
But he needed a little more wild abandon, he thought, finishing off his glass and catching the bartender's attention.
"One more of these, and one of whatever he's having," he said, gesturing casually towards the man's table.
Drinks in hand, he made his way across the room. The guy saw him coming, and Daniel thought he looked suddenly flustered, as if he didn't know what to do with his eyes and his hands. Daniel smiled to himself, and set the beer down on the table, taking a chair next to his new friend. To anyone watching it would look like Daniel just wanted to see the stage.
Except he sat a little too close. Let their knees touch under the table.
It was a good act. The woman could really sing. She and the band were doing a whole evening of Astrud Gilberto standards. He thought Berimbau was an excellent reason to learn Portuguese. He absently put it on his mental to do list and turned to smile at his companion.
"I'm Daniel," he said.
"Jack," the man managed to choke out, his eyes glued to the stage.
"You've been watching me, Jack," Daniel said quietly. "Like what you see?"
A flicker of eyes in his direction. And the guy was blushing. It was adorable. The evening was looking up. If he could land this guy, he thought he could actually have some fun, and if he came away with some folding money from the deal, well, that was gravy.
"Yeah," Jack agreed. "I've never really done this before," he confided.
"Me neither," Daniel said with a chuckle.
That got Jack's attention.
"But I just saw you..."
Daniel shrugged and took a sip from his glass.
"So what was it, then. Did you blow him?"
Daniel raised an eyebrow. He couldn't believe it. The man sounded jealous.
"Is there some code of ethics I'd be breaking by telling you? Do whores kiss and tell?" he asked.
"I thought whores didn't kiss at all," Jack replied.
"I'd kiss you," Daniel said.
It slipped out before he could stop himself.
Then, since he'd already said it, he did it. Leaned in and brushed his lips against Jack's. When Jack seemed hesitant he whispered, "Just jerked him off. That's all."
Jack sighed as Daniel gently caressed his lower lip with his teeth.
"So what do you want from me, Jack?" he asked. "I'm all yours."
"The night," Jack said roughly, turning his eyes back to the stage again. "How much would that put me back?"
Daniel thought about it. Huh. He had no idea what to say. He hadn't thought he'd venture beyond what could be done in a few minutes in a toilet stall. What would he earn in a night, if he stayed here? All things considered, he figured he'd be insanely lucky to land another three guys. That would be another $150. He licked his lips and tried to sound like he knew what he was doing.
"Two hundred, and you get us a room."
He watched Jack consider it.
"Done," Jack agreed. And having made his bargain, suddenly seemed more confident. "They've got rooms upstairs, right?"
Daniel nodded. The club was in the first floor of a nice enough hotel. Not too fancy. Another reason Steven had recommended it.
He trailed along behind Jack as he left the club and went out into the lobby to the hotel's desk. He booked the room without hesitation or apparent embarrassment, despite the fact that Daniel was standing right there.
"Can you give me one where I can hear the music?" he asked.
The desk attendant nodded.
And they could hear the music. The rhythms were perfect, and the music was ridiculously romantic and Daniel found it easy to imagine what it would be like to fall in love with someone like Jack, whose kisses were sweet and deep and confident. Whose hands trembled, but who seemed to know exactly what to do and exactly what he wanted. Who seemed to worship him with every kiss and touch and with his mouth and with his cock and who wrapped himself around Daniel when he was done and slept with his nose pressed into Daniel's hair.
They didn't say much. Daniel said he was a student. Jack said he was getting married soon. He said he hadn't expected to want someone like Daniel and Daniel laughed and said "Thank you!" wryly, and Jack just grinned at him and flipped him over on his belly and rolled on another condom.
In the morning, Daniel squirmed out from under Jack's arm. He suspected Jack was awake, though he pretended to be asleep. The agreed payment lay on the dresser where Jack had dropped it last night. Daniel left it there, with a slip of the hotel's notepaper. He wrote his phone number and then let the door shut and latch softly behind him.
Lima, 1986
The man sat down at his table without waiting to be invited.
Daniel ignored him.
"I don't usually see gringos in here," the man commented, taking a long draught from his glass. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?"
Daniel scowled, not taking his eyes off the two men at the bar. He was trying to follow their conversation – catch the nuances. Spanish wasn't his strongest language. He didn't need distractions.
"You know, staring at strangers in this kind of dive is a good way to get yourself killed."
"You know, gringo is Mexican slang. And everybody here knows me," Daniel replied blandly. "The tape recorder's out on the table for everybody to see. And they all want a copy of the paper when I publish it."
The man snorted.
"That is the lamest cover story I've ever heard."
Daniel finally turned a frosty gaze on him.
"I don't usually make small talk with strange Americans in these kinds of places," he said pointedly. People in the room were beginning to notice their conversation.
"Why not?" the man asked. He was noticing people noticing them and his relaxed demeanor was starting to become wary.
"You're all drug runners or gun traders or CIA operatives," Daniel said, a little more loudly than necessary. More heads turned. A couple of guys actually started in the direction of the table. Daniel made a point of obviously waving them off. His unwelcome visitor was getting the hint.
"Hey. No need to set the dogs on me. I'm none of the above!" he protested, spreading his hands to show no hostile intent. Daniel eyed him skeptically.
"So, what are you, then?" he asked.
"Just a guy who knows how to fly a plane," the man replied. "I've got a job taking some important egg head out into the jungle tomorrow."
Daniel raised his eyebrows.
"Just a guy who can fly a plane?" he asked.
"Call me a pilot plus," the man replied. He looked positively smug.
"So, Pilot Plus..."
"Jack," the man corrected him.
"So, Pilot Plus," Daniel continued, "What made you pull up a chair at my table?" He didn't try to sound friendly.
The man leaned closer, so closely that Daniel could smell the heady, spice scent of aftershave and sweat.
"Honestly? I saw you in here and I thought, 'I bet he's a really good lay.'"
The heat in those brown eyes and the aggressive posture had Daniel's friends on their feet again. Again, he raised a forestalling hand.
He smiled ferally at Pilot Plus Jack.
"And what would your chain of command think of that, Major O'Neill?"
He got an equally wolfish grin in return.
"My chain of command would happily let me suck your cock in my Class A's on the White House lawn as long as I get your perfect genius ass to cooperate in this total fuck-up of an assignment. Are you in or out on this one, Jackson?"
The chain of command knew perfectly well what went on between them. But they never sent anyone but Jack. They whored him out for Daniel's services. Jack was probably the only officer in the entire US armed forces under orders by his superiors to be actively homosexual.
Though if they were willing to whore Jack out, there were bound to be others.
Daniel would feel more guilty if Jack didn't love these assignments as much as Daniel looked forward to being persuaded to agree to them.
Daniel pushed back his chair, its legs scraping across the stained plank floor. He might be a long-haired, skinny, near-sighted egg head, but Jack knew who called the shots.
Those brown eyes were focused only on him.
That was what Daniel liked about Jack. Knowing all that pure concentration was focused on him, his work, his safety, his success.
"The White House lawn is too far, and the Class As are too much trouble. I've got a room upstairs."
Jack slammed back the rest of his beer in one long gulp. Daniel collected tape recorder in one hand and notebook in the other. He turned and walked through the crowded room, enjoying the eyes on him and the knowledge that those eyes followed Jack as well as he trailed behind him.
Abydos, 1997
Daniel had scribbled on the box, "Thanks! Next time send diapers!"
At the welcoming feast, Claire was passed from one visitor to another, cooing and smiling at all the attention.
"Not an Egyptian name?" Jack asked.
Daniel smiled shyly, glancing over at his wife, who had just accepted their baby back from Ferretti.
"Shau're was named after her father's mother. It's tradition."
Then the Gate activated and all hell broke loose.
The monster in armor ripped the baby from his wife's arms and dragged Shau're away.
When all was said and done, his wife was gone and their child lay dead in the sand, her fragile skull broken where she had been discarded.
Jack took her tiny, perfect body from Daniel's unresisting hands and gave her to the good Father and lead Daniel Jackson back to Colorado.
And it was war.
Cheyenne Mountain, 2004
Jack fiddled with Daniel's CD player. Rattled around with his discs. Found one and put it on, setting the volume low enough not to travel beyond Daniel's open door.
It was one of Daniel's favorites. He smiled and swayed a little. He had learned Portuguese specifically to be able to hum along to Berimbau.
"I've always felt I knew you before we met," Jack said.
Daniel looked up from his work. Found brown eyes fixed on him. Thought of brown eyes and Portuguese and swaying rhythms and...
Fuck.
"Always?" Daniel asked sharply. "Like even back before Abydos?"
"Yup," Jack agreed.
Daniel turned back to his work.
"That's interesting," he said, in a voice meant to say that it actually wasn't.
Twenty years. Or ten. Depending on how you counted. Ranks. Promotions. PhDs. Missions. No way.
"Yeah. For some reason I have always associated you with really good jazz."
"No." Daniel hissed. Hard, angry eyes falling on the general.
"Yes." Jack argued softly, apologetically. Maybe hopefully.
"There was once a beautiful, blue-eyed student in a club..."
"No there wasn't," Daniel stated flatly. "Because that never happened."
Jack lowered his eyes in acknowledgement. Then he got up. He went back across the room and flipped open the stereo.
He took the disc with him when he left.
Daniel picked up the piece of notepaper from the top of the stereo, folded it, and slipped it into his shirt pocket.
Never trust the stars
When you're about to fall in love
Look for hidden signs before you start to sigh
Never trust the moon
When you're about to taste his kiss
He knows all the lines and he knows how to lie
Just wait for a night
When the skies are all bare and then
If you still care
Never trust your dreams
When you're about to fall in love
For you're dreams may quickly fall apart
So if you're smart
Really smart
Only trust your heart
If you're interested, all my stories, in order, from one page. Also, my fiction recommendations.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2006-08-02 01:08 pm (UTC)I love that they did tie up at the end. Perfect.
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Date: 2006-08-02 02:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-02 01:31 pm (UTC)plus, good jazz and portugese, you can't go wrong.
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Date: 2006-08-02 02:31 pm (UTC)So glad you liked it. Thanks!
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Date: 2006-08-02 02:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-02 02:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-02 02:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-02 02:33 pm (UTC)Thanks! So pleased you liked it!
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Date: 2006-08-03 07:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-02 02:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-04 01:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-02 03:18 pm (UTC)That made Daniel mad. He pushed back his hair from his eyes and glowered up at the man, who was grinning down at him.
This is so them! Even at 5 and 18! *adores*
"I'd kiss you," Daniel said.
It slipped out before he could stop himself.
Oh hell yeah.
Daniel found it easy to imagine what it would be like to fall in love with someone like Jack, whose kisses were sweet and deep and confident. Whose hands trembled, but who seemed to know exactly what to do and exactly what he wanted. Who seemed to worship him with every kiss and touch and with his mouth and with his cock and who wrapped himself around Daniel when he was done and slept with his nose pressed into Daniel's hair.
You don't have to imagine! *shakes 2004 Daniel*
"So, Pilot Plus..."
"Jack," the man corrected him.
"So, Pilot Plus," Daniel continued
BWAH! Lucky Daniel, lucky Jack, that Jack's under orders to be gay. *licks lips*
And it was war.
This kills me. Because Teal'c! Ow ow ow!
"No there wasn't," Daniel stated flatly. "Because that never happened."
OUCH!
Daniel picked up the piece of notepaper from the top of the stereo, folded it, and slipped it into his shirt pocket.
It will happen... please please please he's gotta. He didn't crumple up the paper and throw it away...
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Date: 2006-08-04 01:08 am (UTC)I think 2004 Daniel's pretty pissed off. All those years of wondering if it was Jack or his imagination. I'd like to think that he maybe had even mostly forgotten, except that doesn't fit with the handy disc does it?
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Date: 2006-08-04 02:04 am (UTC)And he never plays it. Not since he had bought the record and played it the whole of 1984, so often that the grooves in the vinyl wore down to nothing but scratching sibilance and his pronunciation of Portuguese was jazz singer perfect. One day, years later, he had found the CD in a discount bin and picked it up on a whim, taken it home and unwrapped it, but couldn't bring himself to play it.
When they met, he hadn't connected the cold, closed off colonel to the warm, smiling man locked away in his memory, not for a long time.
Much later he had realized it was possible to fall in love with a Jack for a whole slew of different reasons, and had told himself that loving a Jack for trust and friendship and loyalty was better than loving a Jack whose hands and lips and cock were so perfectly right. That stuff was just superficial, right? Though sometimes, in the abyss of night, the years of celibacy weighed.
So now Jack remembers? Daniel doesn't know how to reconcile the young student who turned tricks to make ends meet with the respected scientist who's considered a role model and hero. He can't be that whore. It's just not allowed.
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Date: 2006-08-02 03:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-04 01:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-02 04:10 pm (UTC)dizer que já chegou,
chegou para lutar.
Berimbau me confirmou,
vai ter briga de amor,
tristeza camará..."
I love that song. It is indeed en excellent reason to learn my native language. ^__^ We have a really great a capella version of it in the repertoire of the madrigal I sing with.
Paris 1970 is adorable. Chicago 1982 made me wish for a happier ending, no matter how cliched it would be for damsel Daniel to be saved by his knight in shining dress blues. Chicago 1984 is my favourite. Lima 1986 has a witty twist, and I liked it. Abydos 1997 hurts too much for words. And the ending is perfect.
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Date: 2006-08-04 01:11 am (UTC)Would you translate? I actually have no idea what the lyrics mean, it's just a gorgeous song. I see love and sadness?
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Date: 2006-08-04 04:18 am (UTC)o amor que lhe quer, seu bem. -- the love that loves him, his sweetheart.
Quem diz muito que vai, não vai -- The one who keeps saying he'll go won't go
e assim como não vai, não vem. -- and just as he won't go, he won't come.
Quem de dentro de si não sai -- The one who doesn't get out of himself
vai morrer sem amar ninguém. -- will die without loving anyone.
O dinheiro de quem não dá -- The money of the one who doesn't give
é o trabalho de quem não tem. -- is the work of the one who doesn't have.
Capoeira que é bom não cai, -- A good capoeira [fighter] doesn't fall,
mas se um dia ele cai, cai bem. -- but if someday he falls, he'll fall well.
Berimbau, berimbau... -- Berimbau, berimbau...
Capoeira me mandou -- The capoeira told me
dizer que já chegou, -- to say he's arrived already,
chegou para lutar. -- arrived to fight.
Berimbau me confirmou, -- Berimbau has confirmed it to me,
vai ter briga de amor, -- there'll be a fight for love,
tristeza camará. -- friendly sadness.
Berimbau, berimbau... -- Berimbau, berimbau...
As far as I know, there's no translation for berimbau, which is the musical instrument played during capoeira fights. When the singer sings the lines "Berimbau, berimbau..." they're supposed to mimic the sound of a berimbau being played.
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Date: 2006-08-04 10:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-04 12:52 pm (UTC)Anyway, you're welcome!
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Date: 2006-08-02 04:14 pm (UTC)The blah, blah, blah day continues
Date: 2006-08-04 01:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-02 04:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-04 01:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-02 07:54 pm (UTC)Angie
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Date: 2006-08-04 02:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-02 09:14 pm (UTC)YOWZA!!
So, if I mortgage my house would that be enough to bribe you into writing more Alpha!Geek Daniel and Air Force Rent Boy Jack stories?
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Date: 2006-08-04 01:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-02 11:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-04 01:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-04 05:33 pm (UTC)It sorta put me into the same mood and mindframe as back when I was writing in a game set in Paris, 1902. I loved striving for mood, feel, sensation... and you've done that here, in a very satisfying way.
The stories all pull together for me in their own quirky weave. Leaves me wanting more, but at the same time wanting this to simply remain just as it is, without further meddling.
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Date: 2006-08-05 02:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-05 11:39 am (UTC)Though, I have to say, having Daniel's child die? Next time when you rip my heart out, I prefer that you use a knife rather than a spoon. Owie.
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Date: 2006-08-05 10:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-03 01:18 pm (UTC)*hugs* That one about Claire was really sad. Ow. And the one about Daniel getting shot! Ow again. But the hooker one was my favorite for sure. Hee. :)
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Date: 2006-11-15 04:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-15 04:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-17 05:19 am (UTC)I like that you take Daniel's time on Abydos and give it that extra bit of perfect that would break Jack too. Love that they are still a little too broken at the end, but at least they are at a mutual understanding. There's a lot of intimacy in the last scene, I think, and the music really does echo the earlier scene very nicely.
Sweet without being saccarine, and the sad notes are solid too, this is lovely, and a lovely half-step off canon, just enough to feel like a might-have-been. Very minor key.
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Date: 2007-02-27 04:33 am (UTC)I am interested in your take on it as Jack saving Daniel. Odd how something that obvious to the reader doesn't sink in when you are writing.
Sweet without being saccarine, and the sad notes are solid
Which is a relief. Writing something like this, one wonders if one is just being maudlin, sometimes.
Thank you for coming by and reading and commenting. So pleased you liked it!