Disclaimer: Not mine. It's never mine. Why can't it be mine? Oh, yeah. Just a poor, no name writer... Not a penny to be had.


Spacemonkey, yeah.


Quarantine was a bitch, Dr. Daniel Jackson thought morosely, nursing a cup of coffee in the early morning after SG-1's return from P9X-676. Why it was necessary to have the debriefing this early in the morning, Daniel did not know. Perhaps it was the alleged eco-biological threat they'd brought back with them.

It was just a butterfly. One measly multi-coloured butterfly… Ok, so, one measly flesh-eating butterfly whose eggs spawned and fed off human saliva. No big deal. They'd seen worse.

True though that may be, it did nothing however to alleviate the fact that everyone who had been here when they'd come back through the Stargate had been required to spend the next 48 hours on site, while the requisite pesticides, or was it insecticides, well, whatever cyanide it was, had to be sprayed liberally around the base to ensure none of those eggs had managed to stowaway up and out onto topside, ready to feast on Earth's unexpecting populace.

Then again, it's not like there was much for Daniel to go home to, barring his books. And wasn't that just a sad fact of his life at present. All things considered, at least if he needed company there was plenty to be found on base.

Actually, the only thing Daniel didn't like about quarantine was the fact that it undermined some sort of liberalist stand point that Daniel liked to take, particularly with regard to his life and what he was allowed to do with it. That aside, he didn't actually have anything against spending time locked up in his office, or in the mess hall, or catching up with the various friends he'd made. After all this time, not to mention all the time he spent here, Cheyenne Mountain had practically become more of a home than the place where he supposedly lived.

Sipping enthusiastically, he wondered whether it would be best to finish that pesky translation, which he'd already begun working on, of the oddly cursive script that SG-3 had found on that rather phallic shaped… well, Daniel wasn't quite sure what it was. Yet. But he hoped the inscription was something of use, and could maybe tell him what it was called, from which he could check logical roots from which the words could have stemmed to gain some sort of meaning from it, or better yet perhaps they were instructions on what exactly the thing was meant to do.

Or, he could start learning how to play Igo. He'd always been meaning to get around to doing that. Seeing as he'd already mastered most of the world's games of strategy. Not that he found them particularly useful in the field, but it was always fun to be able to beat Jack at them. And then taunt him in the language of the game's origin.

Five hours later, Daniel felt as though he had the basics under his belt. He was pretty sure Jack already knew how to play it. Then again, it hadn't taken long for Daniel to hand him his arse on a platter after he'd just learnt how to play Shougi. So, Jack was entitled to whatever head start he could get his hands on, and given that Daniel had mentioned a few months in advance that he intended to learn how to play it soon, Daniel was pretty sure Jack would have polished up on his skills in preparation. After all, it wasn't like Jack to ever go down without a fight.

That settled, Daniel launched himself out of his office to go in search of Jack. Seeing as he had time he thought he'd take the roundabout route to Jack's office. First, Daniel stopped by the lab, despite the fact that it was highly unlikely that Jack would be there unless under threat of death, grievous bodily injury or insanity. His real purpose in going there though was to check up on Sam, just to make sure she had something to keep herself occupied with. As fate would have it, he found her speaking with Dr. Fraiser. They appeared to be discussing nuances of human biology and in particular the reproductive process. Not exactly his area of expertise, beyond either the act of attempting to create, or being forced to deliver, a child. He thought it best he leave them to their obviously impassioned conversation.

Just as Daniel walked out of ear's reach, he just so happened to miss the pinnacle of their findings, exemplified by Sam's excited, "So you really think that with this alien technology we'd be able to manipulate the gamete DNA to produce offspring that have the same sex parents?"

Not that Daniel would have had much to say on the topic, really. His next port of business was the mess hall, it was still a little early for lunch, but if you had an appetite like Jack's there was no telling when you'd be in need of food rations. Sticking his head through the doorway, he scanned the room to see who was present.

Daniel was amused to find Teal'c sitting at one of the tables with Lieutenant Alvar who was looking at Teal'c as if he'd hung the moon. Actually, Alvar seemed to be trying to get Teal'c to try some hotdogs, something Sam had failed to do on many an occasion.

Watching intently, Daniel realized that Teal'c was in fact staring straight at him, eyebrow poised and ready to express. Daniel smiled what he hoped was an encouraging smile. There was no harm learning more about other people's cultures by experience. Then again, Daniel wasn't exactly sure how well 'hotdogs' fell into the category of 'culture'. Oh hell, who was he kidding, it was America after all.

Watching still, Daniel smiled at the surreptitious way in which Teal'c took the hotdog offered to him, while Alvar lifted one as if to demonstrate, see, it's all good.

Daniel snorted to himself at Teal'c's smoothly stated, "They are an interesting shape," which caused the young lieutenant who had been about to put one in his mouth to blush furiously.

Teal'c smiled mildly before raising the hotdog in a sort of salute to Daniel before himself taking a bite.

Grinning, Daniel decided he'd best not further interrupt the rapport that Teal'c seemed to be building with the rather attractive young man.

Still with a smile on his face, Daniel walked the corridors, warmly greeting those he bumped into on the way, until he reached Jack's office.

He arrived to find Jack's door slightly ajar, which was a bit unusual. Normally if he were in, it was left, for the most part, wide open. If he were out, it was closed. Intrigued, Daniel quietly maneuvered himself through the opening, until he was standing half in, half out of the office.

As it so happened, Jack was home. Strangely enough, he was sitting practically stock still at his desk, lip between teeth, staring at his computer screen with an odd sort of intensity. If it weren't for the fact that both Jack's hands were visible on the desk, Daniel might have suspected that something… underhanded… was going on.

Daniel opened the door silently, just enough for him to get himself completely into the room. He even managed to walk about four steps into it before he found himself at gun point.

Daniel's hands were instantly up in the air. That he'd become conditioned as to so easily relax and respond 'appropriately' to having weapons aimed it him didn't really do much for his peace of mind.

"Easy, Jack," Daniel murmured calmly. "I just wanted to come see if you'd like to play some go with me."

Jack looked at Daniel for a long moment, with a curiously startled look on his face, as if he hadn't even realized that it had been Daniel at his door, or rather a few steps inside his office, so intent had he been on whatever it was he'd been doing.

In fact, Jack was so startled that he actually looked rather guilty. That was assuming he wasn't guilty to begin with.

Daniel watched passively as Jack swallowed, but lowered his weapon. He took note of the interesting way Jack's eyes seemed to flicker between his face and the computer screen. What's he got to hide? Daniel wondered.

Instead, he simply asked, "Am I interrupting something?"

"Uh…" Jack said, before he decided to go with, "Nope, nothing, not at all. What can I do for you, Danny-boy?"

Daniel raised his eyebrows as he watched Jack hedge. He proceeded to approach, slowly without any sudden movements, as if Jack were a wild animal, incapable of rational thought.

As soon as Daniel almost reached a position from which he would have been able to see whatever it was Jack had been looking at, or working on, Jack's fingers shot out and moved with the kind of dexterity he only expected to see when there was a weapon in those hands.

Out of the corner of his eye though, he saw what they hit. Alt, shift and tab. Interesting.

"Jack?"

"Hm?" Jack answered, making as if he hadn't just suddenly hit the keys required to shuffle programs visible on the monitor's visual interface.

"What were you doing?"

"Me? Oh, not much, as you can see," at which point Jack gestured vaguely at the computer screen, "just going through some of my previous mission statements… Seeing how my style's changed."

"Right," Daniel said as he came up behind Jack as he sat on his roll-y chair. He smiled at the way the muscles of Jack's back tensed as he approached.

He's definitely up to something, Daniel thought to himself. What though? How about we take a little look see?

Knowing Jack, he probably hadn't taken the taskbar into consideration. Leaning over Jack's shoulder, Daniel pretended to read the report in question, purely for the purposes of upholding Jack's charade.

"Has it?" Daniel enquired a moment later.

"Has what what?"

"Your style," Daniel clarified. "Has it changed?"

"Oh yeah, definitely, got it down to an art form," Jack affirmed, blithely.

"I see." Stealing the mouse from Jack, Daniel pretended to highlight portions of the onscreen text, as if he were in fact studying its style. He even began a bit of a running commentary on bits he liked, and just to be Daniel, the bits with which he disagreed.

It wasn't until he felt Jack relax that he made his move. He clicked on the only other tab to be found on the taskbar, which was entitled "Space…" and appeared to be running in some sort of image editing software. The moment he did so, a rather startling image appeared on screen, along with an equally startling, possibly due to its sheer volume, "Hey!" from Jack.

A small tussle ensued, one which resulted in Jack retaking control of both mouse and keyboard. Then again, it could simply have been the fact that Daniel, in his moment of surprise, hadn't really put up much of a fight.

In about 3 seconds flat, the program had been closed, and silence reigned supreme.

It wasn't until a few moments later that Daniel finally asked, "Was that…?"

"No!" Jack vehemently denied.

"Sure looked like m—"

"It wasn't. Definitely not. Unless you mean to tell me you're a monkey? I don't think so. Monkeys don't speak 23 languages and them some."

Daniel smiled at that, "Well, apparently Spacemonkeys do."

Jack groaned in response.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" Daniel's eyebrows seemed to be asking too.

"There's a lot I'm not telling you," Jack stated, somewhat petulantly.

"I mean other than the fact that you, of course, wish to remain silent."

"…"

"Jack…" Daniel said warningly.

"Fine! Fine! Ok…" Jack caved as he was often wont to do when it came to Daniel.

Daniel watched him expectantly.

"It's just... You make a cute monkey."

Daniel blinked disbelievingly. Did Jack just refer to him as cute? In the context of him being a monkey?

"I—," Daniel paused to think. "Hm."

Now it was Jack's turn to stare at Daniel expectantly.

"You don't reckon those butterflies might have had an adverse effect on human neurological functionality?"

"I resent that."

"Sorry, it's just that… that was a bit left field, even for you."

"Woah," Jack rocked back on his heels, impressive given that he was still seated in a roll-y chair. "Maybe there was some sort of effect," Jack said, a look of surprise quickly spreading across his face.

"Are you alright?" Daniel asked immediately, reaching out and taking hold of Jack's shoulder, concerned.

"No." Jack paused meaningfully, "I think you just made a sports' reference."

Daniel frowned. "…Just because I'm an academic doesn't make me incompatible with sports. I can manage pretty much do anything you can in the field."

"I don't recall fighting and-or running for your life being classified as a 'sport'."

"Well, shooting should count."

"Only, you don't really do it with the proper intention required for it to be a sport."

"Since when does the commission of a sport require intention, it's not a criminal offence, as far as I'm aware."

"Are you sure?" Jack asked in that voice of his, the one he had no doubt created just to provoke people.

"Yes—," Daniel started to say before he stopped himself. "Wait a minute. How the hell did we even get onto this topic?"

"You started it." Jack responded maturely.

"I did not." Came the quick reply.

"Did too," Jack enthused happily.

"Did no— …How old are you again?" Daniel exclaimed in exasperation.

"Apparently about the same age as you."

"Oh, haha."

"Yeah, pretty witty, huh," Jack pronounced, smirking.

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Back on topic. Now. Me. Monkey. Cute."

"Why Dr. Jackson, that was positively caveman of you, when did you learn to speak that one fluently?" Jack teased, smirking still.

"About the same time as I came into contact with you!"

This however only served to make Jack laugh, "You wound me, fair lady!"

"Lady!?" Daniel cried indignantly.

"Sorry," said Jack, sounding completely unapologetic, as he amended his statement to, "Fair monkey!"

"I hate you," Daniel grouched, desperately resisting the urge to pout.

"Only cos you love me," Jack sing-songed.

Daniel's hand slipped from its stronghold on Jack's shoulder, as he found himself brought up short with that logic, because, oddly enough… He couldn't disagree.

There was a moment of utter silence, and had they been outside, all would have undoubtedly heard the cricking of crickets and various other modes of sound denoting the natural silence of nature.

"Daniel?" Jack called, curiously, in response to Daniel's sudden catatonic stupor.

When a few moments later, there was still no response, Jack continued, vigorously waving a hand in front of Daniel's face, almost close enough to knock off his glasses. "Helloooo? Point of origin to Daniel?"

Blinking rapidly, Daniel tried to remember the world as it was before he'd been hit by that rather heavy handed epiphany. It seemed appropriate though that Jack would be the one to cause such a realization to occur. Only natural, Daniel thought dazed, seeing as he was the subject matter at hand.

"Wh-what?"

"You were spacing there for a moment, spacemonkey-mine." Jack leaned closer as if his eyes could use the help in searching Daniel's face for signs of whatever it was that was wrong.

Daniel automatically straightened, leaning backwards and away from Jack, as he tried to gather his suddenly scattered wits, while Jack frowned at the movement.

Lost in his thoughts, Daniel wouldn't pick up on the rather quirky endearment Jack had used until much later. Instead, at the time, he managed, "Oh. Right. Uh, nothing. It's nothing."

"Sure," said Jack, looking completely unconvinced, an expression employed just as much to cover his concern at Daniel's odd reaction to him as an actual display of disbelief at Daniel's answer. Not that Daniel would realize its ulterior motive.

True enough, he didn't, as was evinced by the fact that he simply mock glared in response. "Do you want to play go with me or not?"

"You got the goban ready to GO?" Jack asked, for the most part ready to accept Daniel's frequent mental wanderings, leaps, bounds and headfirst plummets as they came. If there was really something wrong, Jack believed Daniel would let him know as soon as he felt he was able.

"That was terrible," Daniel groaned, laughing anyway. "And I'm surprised you don't just call it the 'board'."

"There are many things about me that might surprise you," Jack confided haughtily, trying to further lighten the mood.

Again, Daniel thought to himself, he couldn't disagree.


Finis.


Word from the Author: Kudos go to the Siren of Hell for the awesome wallpaper she made me, which had me in hysterics. This was my response to it and I hope all you folks enjoyed it.