brainofck

Title: Happiness is a Clean Desk
Author:

muck_a_luck, posting in

brainofck
Pairing: Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Daniel has finally cleared out the backlog, and some R&R is in order.
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

He looked around the office in satisfaction.

Every object studied, catalogued, and tidily displayed.

Every report written, every mission-related research project sitting on Hammond's desk, not his own. Nothing requiring his attention likely to come back through the Gate until SG-11's return on Friday.

Only a favorite, on-going piece of personal academic research glowing happily from the Word document open on his computer screen.

And Jack, walking through his door.

Life was perfect.

Poor Jack. The bulge in his trousers showed his interest. The twist of his lips showed that he was used to Daniel being completely swamped, with no time to humor a friend who might be willing to offer "benefits," as it were. The slide of his eyes showing that he was completely unaware that Daniel was on to him.

Daniel sauntered around the worktable toward his visitor and hopped up on the edge, knees provocatively spread wide. He picked up his perfectly steaming mug of coffee and took a delicate sip, licking his lips and smiling at Jack from behind the mug. He raised his eyebrows just a little. Smiled a little more sharply.

Jack noticed.

"So what's going on, Daniel," he drawled, pausing in the doorway, not beginning his usual circuit of the office, watching Daniel warily.

"Absolutely nothing," said Daniel, letting his relaxed delight translate into deeper, richer tones; broader, rounder inflections.

"Huh," said Jack, cocking his head, stepping into Daniel's personal space.

"Coffee?" Daniel offered politely.

"Yes, thanks," said Jack, then stole the taste from Daniel's lips.

"I don't understand how a genius like you could take so long to figure this out..." he murmured against Daniel's mouth...

"Hellow! Earth to Daniel! SG-3 and SG-11 can't leave until you get this thing figured out, Daniel! Are you with us here?!"

Jack rapped his knuckles on the doorframe obnoxiously.

Startled, Daniel's head thunked of the comfortable pile of internal mail envelopes. He snorted, jolting upright in alarm, the sticky dampness on his cheek drawing his attention to the pool of drool on the top envelope that was causing the permanent marker on the names to bleed. He hoped he didn't have "Jackson/Arch" scrawled on his face in Nyan's neat print. In mirror image.

Daniel peered at Jack blearily over the piles of books and boxed items.

Yup. The bulge. The lip twist. The sliding eyes. Jack. The real Jack. In Daniel's real office.

Daniel sighed.

"I love you too, Jack," he said in weary annoyance, fixing his red-rimmed eyes on the computer screen. If he looked a bit strained, he was sure he could play it off as stress and lack of sleep.

The comment must have offended him, because instead of the brief shoulder rub that Daniel could expect on a good day, Jack made a disgusted noise, turned on his heel and walked right back out.

Daniel let himself slump back down onto the envelopes, carefully avoiding the drooly spot.

Daniel thought about Jack's quirk of lips.

Daniel sighed again.

If you're interested, all my stories, in order, from one page. Also, my fiction recommendations.

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