A/N: Sorry if there was any confusion with notifications; I had a major brain fart with how uploading actually works over here (chock it up to sleep deprivation and post-all-day-class exhaustion).
The first half of this chapter was beta'd by the lovely chocolatequeen. See the end of the chapter for more notes.

. . .

"And here I thought you didn't want company," Vala said as she stood back from her door so Daniel could come in, unsure whether or not she was surprised to find him there. "You want tea? I just put water on."

"Uh, sure," Daniel said, slowly lowering his laptop bag to the floor. Vala almost laughed at his expression, but thought better of it just in time: it would have been his diplomatic face if he hadn't looked so exhausted and wrong-footed.

"Vala, listen, I didn't mean to . . . it's not that I didn't want . . . I mean, you know I like spending time . . . it's just, the others—"

"Oh, shut up before you hurt yourself," Vala told him, flashing an amused smile.

"You're not upset?"

"Well, I suppose I was a bit, but then I remembered how utterly thoughtless you get when you overtax yourself, and I got over it."

"I guess I deserved that," he said ruefully.

"That and more, but like I said, I'm over it. Now sit down and tell me what you meant about the others."

He complied, collapsing onto her couch while she grabbed mugs and teabags. "Well, I said 'the others,' but mostly it's been Mitchell. And a lot of it's your fault, you know," he informed her, shooting an accusatory glare over the back of the couch.

"Darling, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," she told him airily as the bubbling hot pot clicked off.

Daniel snorted. "Right. You have no idea what it looks like when you drape yourself all over me and flirt constantly and refer to perfectly platonic dinner outings as dates and call me things like 'darling'," he challenged.

"Oh, that," she said, leaning against the counter while she waited for the tea to finish steeping. "So, Mitchell's been, what, exactly?" She hoped it was something she could use to her advantage, but she doubted it: Daniel was clearly flustered, but not the kind of flustered she wanted him to be.

"He's been insinuating that, that we . . . that there might be . . . " Daniel was making little circular gestures with his hands, the way he did when he was searching for the right English word or phrase to explain a concept from another language or culture, "feelings of a romantic nature between us. Which is ridiculous," he concluded, dropping his hands emphatically into his lap.

"Well, obviously," Vala assured him, disposing of the tea bags and carrying the mugs over to her coffee table. She wasn't sure what to make of the relief on Daniel's face as he grabbed two coasters from the pile on the corner and set them out for her. Something unpleasant was nagging at her from inside the snarl of feelings, desires, and impulses that related to Daniel and how she interacted with him. She chose not to untangle it for further examination.

Setting the mugs of tea down, Vala arched an eyebrow, waiting.

"What?" Daniel said.

"If there's one thing I never half-ass when I can avoid it, it's comfort."

"Your point?"

"The way you're currently sitting is unacceptable."

"Seriously?"

She folded her arms across her chest.

"Vala, it was one thing when you were injured and needed to have your leg propped up—"

"My recovery doesn't stop it from being the most comfortable seating arrangement. Besides, you were awful earlier, so this is how you make it up to me."

"I thought you weren't upset."

"I said I got over being upset. I'm about to un-get over it."

Daniel leaned his head back and closed his eyes, a martyred expression on his face. "Fine," he acquiesced, kicking off his shoes, scooting to the corner of the couch and turning so he could lean against the arm rest and put his left leg up. Vala smirked in satisfaction and sat down in front of him, stretching both legs along the couch and leaning back against Daniel's chest. She sighed contentedly.

"There. Not such a terrible hardship now, is it?"

"Shut up and play the book."

"All right, all right, no need to bite my head off." He snorted, and she could practically hear him rolling his eyes. Still, a victory was a victory. She hit the play button on the remote control to her sound system and picked her mug of tea up from the coffee table as Daniel reached out to do the same.

By the end of the chapter, they had finished their tea. Daniel had one arm stretched out along the back of the couch, his other hand resting on his right thigh. Vala shivered deliberately.

"Cold?" Daniel mumbled. She thought he sounded sleepy. She felt him shift under her, looking around for a blanket.

"I've got a better idea," she said, grabbing his arms and pulling them over her shoulders so they wrapped around her torso.

"You're unbelievable," he said, but neither moved nor protested further. Vala suspected he would later blame it on sleep deprivation and general tiredness, but she was counting it as a victory.

Much as she tried to pay attention to the story, Vala felt her own exhaustion creeping up on her. Between the tea and her carefully engineered position on the couch, she was warm and comfortable and more relaxed than she'd felt in ages. Her last coherent thought as she drifted off was that Daniel could fill her in on what she missed later.

Daniel listened to her breathing even out into the rhythm of sleep and shook his head, both in exasperation and in an attempt to keep himself from following suit. God, he was tired. And Vala had seriously good taste in couches. But falling asleep like this, with her, was high up on his list of bad ideas. Why bad? the part of his brain that was getting harder and harder to shut up wanted to know. Because Vala might . . . Because he wasn't even supposed to be here right now. What if they checked the logs and saw that he hadn't left the base yet? They would look in his office, the gym, Sam's lab, and eventually, here. How would he ever shut them up if . . . if . . . he was too far gone for coherent thought.

He slipped into unconsciousness as he tried to remember why he shouldn't.

Daniel jerked awake, disoriented. Vala mumbled in protest at the sudden movement but didn't come all the way awake herself. He blinked, reaching up to adjust his glasses, which had fallen askew while he slept. Slept . . . on Vala's couch. With Vala snuggled against his chest, also asleep. With his arms around her. Shit.

He unceremoniously shoved her forward and off of him so he could stand up. A wave of dizziness washed over him. Vala, miraculously enough, was still asleep. He didn't know how she flipped whatever switch it was in her brain, because when they were on missions he'd seen her come awake and alert at the slightest provocation.

He looked at his watch: it was mid-afternoon, so only a couple of hours had passed. He balanced on the edge of the couch so he could put his shoes on and, reminded by a faint buzzing noise, turned off the idling sound system. He wondered if he should wake Vala. On the one hand, too long of a nap would probably mess up her sleep schedule. On the other hand, they were going off-world soon, which always messed up everyone's sleep schedule.

He didn't want to talk about what had happened. Nothing had happened, so there was nothing to talk about. But if he didn't make that clear now, Vala might say something later, in front of other people. She might do that anyway. She might make a big deal out of him trying to explain that this was not a big deal and therefore not worth mentioning to anyone. When had his life gotten so complicated? No, scratch that: when had his personal life gotten so complicated? When had he acquired a personal life?

Vala interrupted his muddled train of thought by waking up on her own.

"Morning," she mumbled blearily, sitting up and turning to face him.

"Afternoon, actually," he informed her from his perch as he finished lacing up his shoes.

"Still the same afternoon, I hope." Vala absently raked her fingers through her hair, torn between getting the rest of the way up and laying back down.

"No, actually, we slept for a hundred years."

She stopped finger-combing and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Kidding."

"I thought so, but considering nonsense like that is not outside the realm of possibility in our line of work, maybe you shouldn't."

Daniel grimaced in acknowledgment. "You're grumpy when you first wake up in not-potentially-life-threatening contexts," he observed.

"No, I'm grumpy when I wake up because my blanket and pillow were taken away without my say-so. Which makes this a very potentially-life-threatening-context. For you." Daniel seemed more on edge than the circumstances called for, and she hoped that threatening him, which she frequently did anyway, would put him at ease. It was also very satisfying.

"One, you haven't disproved my point. Two, good to know where your priorities are."

"Oh, don't act like it's news to you that I only want you for your body." Whoops. So much for putting him at ease—he hated it when she said things like that. She was clearly sleep-addled.

For the love of— "Leaving now."

"M'kay." She flopped back onto the couch, trying to get comfortable: if her brain wasn't going to be awake, no point in trying to force her body to be. Daniel, sighing, went and got a blanket and pillow from a closet and dumped them unceremoniously on top of her.

"Hey!"

"You're welcome. Though on the off chance that we don't head out for a few more days, you might want to consider getting up."

"Why don't you come back here and make me?" she challenged half-heartedly.

"Ooh, tempting, but I was supposed to be home two hours ago, remember?"

"Have it your way."

He hesitated by the door, wanting to say something, not wanting to be the one to bring it up.

"Are you always like this in morning-after situations?"

"Like—? No, you know what? Never mind. Because that is not now, nor will it ever be, any of your business. And anyway, this isn't . . . that." She didn't have to know that, in the few first-morning-afters he'd experienced, yes, this was what he was like. But it still was not at all the same thing.

"Defensive much?"

"Vala." He ignored the part of his brain that was echoing her question, and the assumption behind it.

"I mean, we did just sleep together in a very literal way."

"You're unbelievable."

The fact that he'd said that his behavior in a morning-after situation would never be any of her business suddenly registered, and she decided to change tactics. "I won't tell Mitchell, if that's what's worrying you."

Sometimes whiplash didn't even begin to cover it with her. "As a matter of fact, it was, so thank you. Assuming you keep your word, that is."

"You wound me."

"You'll get over it."

"Not if you stay here and talk me to death I won't.

"That's my cue to leave, isn't it?"

"I don't care what you do, as long as it no longer involves hovering awkwardly by my door like a teenager in those movies Mitchell pretends not to like."

"Right. Definitely going now."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

As Daniel made his less than graceful exit, it suddenly occurred to him that what was possibly the strangest role reversal of his life had taken place. If Vala ever told the others about this he would kill her. Assuming he didn't die of embarrassment first.

How the hell had this become his life?

It was 10:30 at night. Vala wanted to call Daniel. No, she didn't. Yes, she did. Well, no, she really didn't, but it was probably a necessary step on the way to what she wanted to do. Except she didn't want to do that either, but it was also necessary.

Asinine, complicated, apparently-only-think-with-their-head-brain archeologists.

But how bad could it be, really?

Probably better not to answer that.

(Very, very bad. Loss-of-snuggle-privileges bad. Life was not fair.)

Strategy. She needed a strategy. After Daniel left that afternoon, she'd realized she was too awake to justify going back to sleep, especially since he was perfectly right about the potential for her sleep schedule getting even more messed up than it already was. And then she'd realized that all she could think about was how much she'd gotten away with, the way she'd gotten him to hold her, and how much more she wanted.

This persistent line of thought had brought her up against the impasse between Sam's advice and strategies with which she was comfortable. Between what she wanted and what it would take to get it. Between what she was comfortable wanting and . . . no. One thread at a time.

She was going to have to call him. Because she'd never be able to sleep like this, and she owed it to the entire team to be at her best.

This was not a conversation they should have over the phone.

So, call and invite him over? No, he wasn't supposed to be on base. Get herself invited to his place, then. That would probably be better, give him the advantage of being in his space rather than hers.

(Give him the ability to kick her out. No, don't think about that.)

Honest without being too blunt. She could do this. She could. It was just talking. They talked all the time.

(Not about something she very badly wanted that she was genuinely unsure he would let her have.)

She dialed Daniel's number before she could give herself any more reasons why a restless, mostly sleepless night might be preferable.

He picked up after the second ring. "Hey." He sounded neutral, but not in a deliberate way. No irritation, no concern. Just a greeting. That was good, right?

"Hi."

She maybe should have scripted this in her head a little more thoroughly.

"Is . . . everything OK? Oh, god, we're not getting called in, are we?"

She had to laugh at how aghast he sounded at the prospect. "No, no, it's nothing like that. I just . . . I'd like to talk to you about something. But it's more of an in-person conversation, you know?"

"And it can't wait until tomorrow?" He didn't sound nearly as skeptical as she was afraid he would.

"Not if I'm going to get any sleep tonight."

There was a brief silence.

"Better come on over, then. You are good to drive, right?" She thought he sounded almost resigned, maybe a little concerned. No detectable irritation. She didn't know if that was good or bad for what she had in mind.

"Yes, of course. Listen, I really appreciate this—"

"Don't worry about it. Sleep is important, especially now. See you soon?"

"Yes."

"Bye then."

The line went dead.

Right. She grabbed her purse and her keys and headed out the door. She could do this. She could.

By the time she got to Daniel's door, Vala had decided that the best way was to start right in. Just ask the question straight out. So when he answered the door, that's what she did as she breezed through it and into the apartment, depositing her purse on the floor as she went: "What I want to know is, what exactly would have to happen for you to be willing to have sex with me?"

Daniel took a deep, steadying breath as he closed the door, reflecting that, all things considered, it was a miracle it had taken her this long to make another bold-faced seduction attempt. He wasn't even surprised, really. Irritated, sure, but only surprised that, given the amount of time they'd been spending together and how much she'd been pushing physical boundaries, she was only just now bringing up sex this blatantly. At least she was fully clothed this time.

"Really? That's what you need to talk to me about? Haven't we had this conversation already?"

"No, we haven't."

"Excuse me, but I distinctly recall—"

"Not the same. That time, I was trying to seduce you. This time, I'm asking you what it would take for you to be willing to be seduced, should I choose to do so."

"Semantic bullshit."

"I learned from the best." She saw the corner of his mouth twitch in a suppressed smile: a good sign. "Look, I'm really, truly not here to seduce you. At least not until after we have this conversation," she added, in response to the incredulous look on his face. "It's just, I mean . . . look, it's not exactly a secret that I've always found you attractive and that I rather like sex, but I've gotten to know you and we're friends and I know that you need more than the fact that I look amazing and am more than willing, but I honestly cannot figure out what more and I'm trying to respect you by asking because I really would very much like to sleep with you in the non-literal sense sooner rather than later, OK?" The explanation had perhaps contained more babbling than she would have liked, but she'd said it. Couldn't have been any clearer, really, although for such an intelligent man Daniel sometimes missed the very, very obvious.

Daniel briefly contemplated getting himself a beer or three to help get through this conversation, but being anything less than sober was a bad idea and would give Vala the kind of inch with which she could run several miles. Instead, he walked over to his couch, sank into the corner farthest from Vala, removed his glasses and rubbed his forehead, eyes closed. He felt her sit down on the other end.

Much as she didn't like it, Vala thought that giving Daniel physical space, at least for now, was the best plan. She drew her legs up, tucked her knees under her chin, and waited. Normally, it was much more fun to harangue Daniel while he tried to gather his thoughts, but by now she knew him well enough to know that the conversation was much more likely to go the way she wanted it to if she actually let him process at his own pace.

Of course, there were limits to Vala's patience in this regard. Fortunately, just as she was reaching the point where she couldn't stand the silence anymore, Daniel put his glasses back on and turned to face her. He was willing to believe that she had asked her excessively blunt question in good faith, and that this was as close as she ever came to trying to respect his wishes, so he was going to try to answer in kind.

"You're right. For me it's always been about more than just physical attraction. I mean, I guess I'm flattered that you . . . what you said, and of course you always make sure everyone who's ever been within a mile of you knows that you're a beautiful woman."

"Oh, I like where this is going," she purred, "even if you do still seem to be struggling with saying what you mean. If you think—"

"If you'd just—" he tried to interrupt.

"—I'm sexy, you should just say so," she finished, right over the top of him. His expression suggested that she maybe should have controlled the impulse to give him a bad time a little longer.

"If you'd just let me get to the point," Daniel continued through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to investigate exactly how aptly throw pillows were named by using Vala's face as a target, "you'd see my opinion of your appearance is not the main factor here."

Something from inside the snarl this conversation was supposed to be a step towards untangling was wondering if this had been a mistake, if maybe she didn't want to hear what it took to get Daniel in bed, because it was something she didn't have or couldn't give, and besides she wanted more than just . . . No. She wanted sex, and she wanted Daniel to want sex, and that was all there was to it. Sam told her she would have to talk to Daniel about it, told her to be blunt and honest, and that was what she was doing, so no problem. Vala gave herself a little shake to get her mind back on track and gestured for Daniel to continue.

"Look, even before everything that happened with . . . with Sha're," he paused, making brief eye contact to make sure Vala remembered what he'd told her, was following what he was saying. She looked mildly surprised, but mostly sad and sympathetic, just like she had when he first told her.

"Anyway, even before . . . that . . . made me put up what some have argued is an unhealthy number of emotional barriers—"

"Sam?" she couldn't help interrupting, trying to bring in a little levity.

"And Jack," he said smiling a little.

"The tag-team of excessively sensible advice of doom."

"That's good; I'll have to remember that one."

"So long as you give credit to the author. But I'm sorry, you were saying?"

"I . . . have no idea," he admitted, trying and failing to be properly annoyed by the derailment.

"You mentioned allegedly excessive emotional barriers," she prompted.

"Ah. Right. Anyway, before those went up . . . I don't know. Sex was never just sex for me, never something I wanted to do independently of other considerations. I know it is for some people, you included, and that's fine, but I'm just not like that. I can't just think about physical attraction and whether it would be enjoyable."

Vala wondered which part of the subject was the greater factor in the way Daniel was hesitating over his words: the shadow of the impact of his wife's death, or his own reticence on the subject of sex. Or maybe, she realized, he'd never had to articulate this before, never tried to, and, as he always did when translating, was just trying to be meticulous and clear.

Daniel continued, "For me, there has to be, at the very least, the real possibility of a relationship. A certain level of trust, a sense of potential compatibility. It has to be someone with whom I could see the romantic involvement going beyond just sex. And, I learned the hard way, it really shouldn't be someone I work with, because that just makes things more complicated than I can handle, historically. You do see why, even though we really do get along much better than we used to, all of this completely disqualifies you as a potential sexual partner for me, right?"

As he finished, Daniel could see her mustering the kind of outrage she reserved for denying things that were completely true, and his last shred of patience abandoned him.

"Don't start," he said. "Don't you come here at eleven o'clock at night pretending like you need to talk, disguise an attempt to use me for sex as a considerate inquiry into what I need, harangue me for not being straightforward enough, and then think you have the right to be upset with me when I give you an honest answer to the question that YOU ASKED IN THE FIRST PLACE."

He sat down in the chair across the room, not looking at her. He hadn't even realized he'd gotten to his feet. He felt drained, and he wished more than anything that the little part of his mind that was wondering whether he'd actually gone too far, had hurt her, would shut up and go away.

The throw pillow collided with the side of his head. Even, or perhaps especially, when she was upset, Vala had excellent aim.

"You HYPOCRITE," she yelled, hoping it wasn't as obvious to him as it sounded to her that she was fighting back tears, trying to stop feelings other than frustration and outrage from escaping the tangle of Daniel-related emotions in her head.

"'A certain level of TRUST?' 'Involvement BEYOND JUST SEX?' If we don't have that already, then why the hell are you the first person I go to with almost everything? Why do you always come after me when I'm upset, or hurt, especially when the others can't even tell that something's wrong? Why have I told you more of the truth about what my life has been like than I've ever told anyone else? Why have we been spending so much more time together than our jobs require, and, at least as far as I could tell, enjoying it?"

She was off the couch, striding rapidly back and forth across the room, the words pouring out of her instead of the tears she was barely holding at bay. She could feel Daniel's eyes on her, but she didn't look at him: she was afraid of what he might see when her defenses were down like this, especially since she was too scared of what it was to look at it herself.

"You know, just because being with someone you work with didn't work for you in the past doesn't mean it couldn't work now. Aren't you the one who's always lecturing me about personal growth? And speaking of double standards, it's a good thing we don't have the same pre-sex qualifiers, because if we did you'd have a lot more to prove to me than I would to you before we could sleep together! I hardly know anything about you outside of work. Family, friends, romantic history, how you ended up at the SGC in the first place: you've barely told me any of it! So don't YOU dare, Daniel: don't you dare talk to me about trust and personal relationships, because that only goes one way between us, and not in the direction you seem to think!"

Finished for the moment, Vala collapsed back onto the sofa, curled up her legs, hugged her knees, and leaned the side of her face against the back of the couch, eyes closed, not looking at him, definitely not crying. And if she was crying, she told herself, it was just from frustration at his blind pigheadedness, nothing else. Nothing else at all, no matter what outrageous ideas the snarl in her head was having about how much it hurt to hear Daniel so readily dismiss the possibility of an emotional connection between them.

Daniel's brain was trying to catch up with his feet, which were carrying him back to the sofa and sitting him down close enough to Vala to reach out and touch her, not so close as to force contact. She was right, and the moment he admitted that to himself, everything he had been so determinedly avoiding feeling and thinking about during the past several weeks had crystallized into inescapable clarity. And now he had hurt her, and the knowledge banished both his anger and his doubt of her sincerity. He would make this right, he had to make this right. He reached out, laid his hand lightly on her knee, but she flinched away and he immediately withdrew it.

"Hey," he said, voice effortlessly gentle. "I'm trying . . . I'd like to apologize. Could you look at me? Please?" He wanted to look her in the eyes and make this right. He would tell her anything she wanted to know: about his own less-than-ideal growing-up years, about his journey to the fringes of academia, about his meager dating history, about Katherine, about Sha're, about Nick, about the twists and turns in his life that brought him to a ship that was hijacked by a real live space pirate with a heart of gold, an inability to shut up, and an often poetic interpretation of the truth. Of course she would be safe to tell those things to: he wanted to kick himself for not realizing ages ago that, on the few occasions he had shared a personal confidence with her, she had been kind and respectful. But this wasn't about making him feel better for being a jackass, this was about doing things on Vala's terms for once, so he waited.

There was something in Daniel's voice that Vala had never heard before. She did a quick inventory and decided she was enough in control to open her eyes. She made sure she could feel herself glaring—she was still angry—before making eye contact. But the look on his face—she didn't think anyone who came even close to knowing her properly had looked at her like that since before Qetesh. Like what mattered most in the whole universe was that she was OK, and that he would do whatever it took to make that happen. She felt her glare slip, and even though she quickly put it back in place, she saw him see.

Daniel could tell that she was still angry, and rightfully so. But he also saw her glare lapse, for an instant, into an expression that was something like amazement, and he wondered how much of his thought process was showing on his face. It was a strange feeling, realizing all at once that he cared for Vala more than he'd let himself care for anyone in such a long time, and he supposed at least some of it must be coming through in his expression.

So. She was angry, but at least somewhat prepared to be appeased; it was just a matter of finding the right gesture . . . Oh. Of course.

Daniel smiled.

Vala stared. Daniel hardly ever smiled, and she'd never seen him smile like this. His entire face was positively radiant. She wanted nothing so much as to just bask in that smile, to do whatever she could to keep it there forever, for her. But he still hadn't actually said sorry, and she couldn't let him get away with that.

"Hey. Slap-happy," she said, pleased that she didn't sound at all sappy. "Were you going to say sorry or what?"

Daniel's smile widened, and Vala could almost swear that his eyes sparkled. "Uh-huh. I'm sorry, and to demonstrate my contrition, I'm offering you a choice: you can ask me whatever questions you want about my life, even the score a little, or—" he paused, and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Wait. Oh, surely not. She never had days that went this well. "Daniel, are you offering to seduce me?"

He answered with a kiss: soft, tender, his hands on her face. Over too soon.

"Well," he said, stroking her cheek, "given the way all this started, technically you're the one seducing me."

"Semantic bullshit."
"I learned from the best."

"No arguments there," Vala said, grinning, and threw her arms around Daniel's neck and tackled him onto his back, kissing him enthusiastically.

. . .

A/N: The second half of this chapter was loosely based on THE SCENE (you know the one) in "Unending." I always thought Vala should have gotten to do some shouting of her own in that interaction, since Daniel can, on occasion, be a bit of a patronizing jackass, so in my version, she does. Also, to give credit where it's due, I think my "How had this become his life?" line may have been subconsciously influenced by the chapter "Tradition" in cleanwhiteroom's fic "Mathématique," which can be found on AO3.