Part 8
"No, really, Jack, it's been long enough."
"Daniel..."
"I know I said to make me wait, but I hadn't thought it through," he says earnestly. He's on one side of my desk, I'm on the other. He hasn't actually resorted to chasing me around the office yet, but I'm thinking that has to be the next step.
"You sounded pretty sure to me," I say, keeping my eyes on his midsection. First thing they teach you in hockey--you can fake with your head or your feet, but the gut always shows you which way the other guy is really going to go.
"Jack. You're not listening. What was the most I did before, an hour? It's been nearly five. Doesn't that seem like enough stretching for one day?"
"We could go home early," I offer.
He shakes his head. "I need to finish this. I have to give a briefing on it first thing in the morning."
"Then you better get on it."
Daniel raps his knuckles rapidly on the desk in front of him, and then begins to sidle to the left. I follow suit, keeping the big desk solidly between us. He rolls his eyes. "Jack, I'm not going to jump you."
"Of course not."
"I'm just having a little trouble concentrating."
"I can see that."
"All I want is one little touch, so I can think clearly again and get this finished."
"Finish it at home."
"I don't have the necessary references at home."
"So finish it here."
Daniel abruptly drops the calm act and slaps both palms down on the desk, leaning across it and glaring at me. "I can't!" he says. "Is that what you want to hear? Fine, I admit it, I can't. I look at my books and the words don't make any sense--they're just meaningless squiggles. I'm trying to type and my hands are shaking so badly I'm reduced to hunt-and-peck, which means the report will take me about ten years to write. I thought I could do it, Jack, but I *can't.*"
Well, crap. He was pretty insistent about me making him wait, but I didn't count on this. If I can't touch him until we go home, and he can't go home until he finishes, and he can't finish unless I touch him... something's got to give.
"Daniel," I say helplessly. I suddenly have new respect for Dave, who withstood Daniel's begging and his anger without blinking.
"Look, think of it this way," he says. "I made five hours today. We'll call that a starting point. Tomorrow I'll go for a little longer, and even longer the next day... you know how it goes. I'm done for today, Jack. Seriously."
I've suddenly got a sinking feeling in my stomach. There's no way to win this one--either I do it, and right afterward he'll give me that melting- eyed look of disappointment and ask why I didn't make him wait, or I tell him no and spend the rest of the evening watching him try to translate something while going through this touch-withdrawal.
"Think about what you're fighting for," I say. I'm grasping at straws, but they're all I've got left. "You want to go through the gate again. To touch other cultures, to hear those old languages spoken like they were thousands of years ago. Isn't that why you wanted to wait as long as you could?"
"I can do that," he insists. "I'll get there, but I need to work up to it. Remember how we started with ten seconds? If Dave had tried to start with an hour, or even a minute, I never could have done it. Five hours is enough of a first step right now."
Daniel..." I'm wavering and he knows it.
"I won't blame you, Jack. I know you're trying to do what I asked, and I appreciate it, I really do, but I didn't realize how hard this would be. I probably *could* make it till we get home without totally losing it, but I'm already too far gone to concentrate on this report, and it's important."
"I could type for you," I offer. Serious last ditch attempt here--I hate typing, and I'm slow as hell.
"Jack...!" He squeezes his eyes shut and clutches at the desk. It reminds me of when he used to hang onto the couch in the VIP room, back when he was still skin and bones and needed to be held almost constantly. The sliding, queasy feeling in my belly intensifies, and I swallow.
"Daniel?"
He opens his eyes and just looks at me. I can see his chin quivering, and he keeps biting at his bottom lip, hard enough to make it swell and darken slightly. He looks like the definition of misery. "Jack," he whispers. "Please. *Please.* I can't stand it."
My stomach lurches and I'm hurrying around the desk before I have a chance to think about it. He meets me halfway and slams into my chest, his arms going around me before I can remember to take a breath. He's gotten a lot of his strength back, and once he's holding on tight, breathing is iffy at best.
"Easy, Daniel," I murmur into his hair. "You're okay now, it's all right, you're gonna be fine." All together now. Come on, you know the words.
"Sorry," he says, his chin grinding against my collarbone as he speaks. He refuses to lift his head even the fraction necessary to speak clearly. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't take anymore. God, I needed this..."
"S'okay," I mumble. What else is there to say? "It's okay, it's not your fault. It's okay."
"I'll do better next time," he promises. "And tonight, we'll work on that other thing."
I pause and make sure my hands are on his back and not heading treacherously toward his ass. "We will?"
He nods, five o'clock shadow rasping against my neck. "Yeah. I want that, too, and I feel terrible that I'm making you wait so long."
"Hey, hey," I protest. "I'm not saying you have to do it. I'm not going anywhere, Daniel, even if... that... is no longer an option." But even as I say the words, I have to wonder just how okay I am with never having sex again. I'm old, but I'm not *that* old.
"I want to," he says. "I owe you at least that much."
Okay, that's not good. "Wait just a damn minute, Daniel." I pull back so I can his face, pressing a palm against his cheek and keeping his eyes on mine. "I am not helping you with all this crap just so I can eventually get some again. I would have been here for you if we were only friends, just like Carter and Teal'c have been here, every step of the way. You don't 'owe' me anything, and even if you did, sex is not a payment or an obligation. It's something you do because *you* want to, not because you think you have to."
"I know," he says dismissively. "I didn't mean it that way."
I'm not so sure about that.
~~~
"I can do it this time," he says. "I swear I can."
"Daniel..."
"I can do it!" He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, pressing the knuckles of one fist against his mouth. When he speaks again, it sounds calmer, but he's not fooling anyone. "Jack. Seriously, I can do it. I need to do this."
"Why?"
Daniel folds his arms and leans back against the headboard, not meeting my eyes. "I need to," he says flatly.
"Maybe you're pushing a little too hard," I say, copying his pose. He's naked under the blankets, and so am I, but that's as far as we've gotten. Every time he tries to touch me, he freezes up, and let's not even talk about what happens when I try to touch him. Watching him huddle and cry in a corner because I kissed him doesn't do a whole lot for my ego.
"We've been trying this every night for a week, and I still can't do anything," he says. "If we went any slower, we'd be going backwards."
"So maybe we should try a different method."
He laughs shortly. "Oh, sure, Jack, please do enlighten me about the miracle method. You're the expert, after all."
"Daniel..." I sigh and close my eyes, rubbing the bridge of my nose. I know he's scared and frustrated and tired of this. I know that. I can be patient with him.
He's not making it very easy, though.
"Sorry," he murmurs. "Sorry I'm such a--"
"Daniel, if you apologize for being a headcase, I *will* have to hit you."
That startles a real laugh out of him, and he actually meets my eyes for the first time since we lost the clothes. "I wasn't going to say that," he says.
"Sure you weren't."
He smiles again, sheepish, rueful, but it fades. "I don't know how else to do this," he tells me. "I thought if you just laid there, and I was in control, I could do it, but I just can't. Every time I try to touch you I... I *know* it's you and I know you'd never hurt me, but I can't seem to..."
"I know, Daniel." I reach for his hand but he jerks it back, putting the blankets between us and drawing his knees to his chest. I drop my hand and he stares at it, biting his lip.
"Sorry," he whispers. "God, Jack, I don't mean to..."
"Don't you do that," I tell him sharply. "Don't you start crying again. We can fix this, you hear me? We're just going about it the wrong way."
"So what's the right way?"
Good question. "I'm only guessing here, Daniel. I'm as lost as you are, remember? But this thing, this naked together and you taking the lead thing--well, it sounded good in theory, but it's not working."
"No kidding," he says quietly.
He's still got the blankets clutched to his chest, covering as much of his body as possible, and I figure that's a good a place to start as any. "First of all," I say, "you need to keep your clothes on. Being without them is obviously making you very uncomfortable, and as long as you're so tense, we're not getting anywhere."
Daniel frowns down at the outline of his body under the covers. "We're not going to get anywhere if I'm fully clothed, either."
"Sure we are. Naked is for sex, and clearly you're not ready for that. That's like--the last step. We need a first step. A ten-second level step, you know?"
He ducks his head to hide his smile. "Is that the technical term?" he asks.
"Youbetcha, Doctor Jackson. We start at the ten-second level, and that means clothes on." I pause and tilt my head, catching his eye. "Seriously, Daniel. You need to feel safe doing this. Forcing yourself to go through it when you're scared is only going to make things worse."
"I guess so..."
I nod sharply and slide out of the bed, grabbing our usual nightwear from the dresser. I toss Daniel his stuff and then dress with my back turned, so he won't feel like I'm watching his body. He's become very self- conscious about his appearance lately, even though we all keep telling him he looks so much better. He's still got some muscle to rebuild if he wants his old body back, but even now, he looks good. Very good. Frankly, I'm keeping my back turned for my own benefit as well. Been a while, here. It's no good drooling over his bare skin when it's off-limits.
"Okay," he says, and I turn back around. He's back in the bed, blankets to his waist, snug in his tee shirt and pajama bottoms. The tension lines around his eyes and mouth have eased, and I find myself breathing a little easier just looking at him. The kind of tightly controlled panic he was radiating earlier tends to be contagious.
"Better?"
He nods. "Yeah. Warmer."
I slide in beside him and give him a puzzled look. "You were cold before?"
"Sort of," he says, and leans into me. He feels warm enough in my arms, heavy and solid against my chest. He makes a pleased sound and sighs against my neck, seemingly content to just lie with me for a while.
"Easier with the clothes, huh?" I ask. I'm not smug. Just because little old me figured it out when mister multiple Ph.D. couldn't get it, I'm not gloating. Really.
"Yes, Jack." Patient, indulgent--I can hear him rolling his eyes. I'd call his voice fond, but I don't want to go there. I have to make *some* concessions to testosterone, after all.
"That's good," I say, and he nods. His foot insinuates itself between my legs, and his arms go around me, his body pressed full length against mine. For the last week, we've shared the bed in the nude, separated by blankets and as much space as Daniel could possibly get.
God, this is better.
"So," he says after a while. "What the next step?"
What? "Next step?"
"I thought you had a plan."
"What plan? Did I say anything about a plan?"
"You thought of this."
"Ye-es... now it's your turn to think of something."
I can feel his smile against my neck. If he tilted his head just a little, his lips would be on that shivery place right behind my ear, where I can already feel the steady, soft puffs of his breath...
"Jack?"
"Mmm?"
"Are you cold?"
Just the opposite, actually. "Noooo..."
"You've got goose bumps."
Imagine that. "Huh."
He sighs and pulls back, looking at me sadly. "I know this is hard for you," he says.
"It's okay."
"So you keep saying."
"Yes, Daniel. So I keep saying, because it's true."
His hand comes up to my face, and he traces his fingertips, feather-light, over my cheekbones. His eyes are intent, fascinated, his lips parted slightly. He doesn't seem to be blinking. I watch his face as his fingers slide up, tracing along my eyebrows, lingering on the scar in my left one, then moving on to weave in my hair. His other hand ghosts over my ears, just the outer rim, then the inner, then the outer again, so slow, barely there. I close my eyes and swallow, digging my fingers into the mattress.
Hold still. Have to hold still.
"Jack?"
No, no, don't... breathe... trying to kiss him now would be bad. Very, very bad. Seriously. Don't even think about it.
"Jack?"
I *know* his mouth is right there, but it's not an invitation. He's not ready. Don't. DON'T. You can't. Just hold still.
"Jack!"
I jump and scrub a quick hand over my face, trying to erase the tingling that his touch left. "What?"
He's got a small, secret smile on his lips, his eyes bright with something. "A little distracted?"
"What? No... distracted? What?"
The smile gets bigger. "I think that's it," he says.
"What's it?"
"The ten-second step. I think I just did it."
I blink at him. "What? Did I miss it?"
"Jack." He shakes his head, grinning. He hugs me, quick and impulsive, and I hug back, wondering where I lost the thread of the conversation.
"So, explain this to me, Daniel," I say when he lets go. "Slowly. Small words."
"What I just did," he says as if it should be obvious. "When I was touching your face. It was... intimate, in a way, but safe. I felt safe. I... Jack, I actually *liked* it."
"Oh, ah..." I cough slightly, clearing my throat. "Me too. A bit."
"A bit," he says dryly. "I couldn't tell."
I get the distinct feeling that I'm being laughed at. "Okay," I admit. "More than a bit. A lot, if you want to know the truth."
"Yes, so I gathered." He can't stop grinning--he looks like the cat that got the cream. "I'm glad," he says quietly. "I'm glad I could do something for you, even if it wasn't... everything. I want so much to be able to do this for you."
"Daniel," I say sternly. "We've talked about this before. It's not just for me."
He shrugs and looks away. "I don't expect you to wait forever, Jack."
"Daniel..."
"Don't." He looks at me, all the laughter gone from his eyes. "Don't tell me that you would, that you'd be fine with us never making love again. Don't tell me that. I will not be lied to, and I will not be patronized."
"It's not a lie," I say stiffly. "I didn't know you thought so little of me, Daniel."
He makes a quick, cutting gesture with his hand, dismissive and impatient. "You know that's not it. I know you fully intend to stay with me, and Jack, you've been so great about this whole thing. You've been a rock. If it weren't for you, I don't know that I'd have even come this far, but you're only human. I don't expect sainthood from you, and I don't expect infinite patience. I *have* to do this. I have to be sure."
"Sure," I echo. Sure of what? Sure that I'll stay with him? He can only be sure of that if he's putting out, is that it? Does he really think that's the only reason I'm with him?
"That we're equals, Jack," he says gently. "That I'm giving as good as I'm getting. I want to be sure that I can make you as happy as you make me."
"Oh."
His lips twitch into an almost-smile. "Oh? That's it?"
"Um..." Dammit. Not going to get all teary, here. Just not going to happen.
"Jack..." His hands frame my face again and he pulls me close, resting his forehead against mine. "It's okay," he says.
"Isn't that my line?"
He laughs and nudges his nose forward, butting it against mine. "I'm borrowing it. It's okay, Jack. We're going to be okay."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Well. Guess we're going to be okay, then. Who am I to argue with a genius?
~~~
"No, really, Jack, it's been long enough."
"Daniel..."
"I know I said to make me wait, but I hadn't thought it through," he says earnestly. He's on one side of my desk, I'm on the other. He hasn't actually resorted to chasing me around the office yet, but I'm thinking that has to be the next step.
"You sounded pretty sure to me," I say, keeping my eyes on his midsection. First thing they teach you in hockey--you can fake with your head or your feet, but the gut always shows you which way the other guy is really going to go.
"Jack. You're not listening. What was the most I did before, an hour? It's been nearly five. Doesn't that seem like enough stretching for one day?"
"We could go home early," I offer.
He shakes his head. "I need to finish this. I have to give a briefing on it first thing in the morning."
"Then you better get on it."
Daniel raps his knuckles rapidly on the desk in front of him, and then begins to sidle to the left. I follow suit, keeping the big desk solidly between us. He rolls his eyes. "Jack, I'm not going to jump you."
"Of course not."
"I'm just having a little trouble concentrating."
"I can see that."
"All I want is one little touch, so I can think clearly again and get this finished."
"Finish it at home."
"I don't have the necessary references at home."
"So finish it here."
Daniel abruptly drops the calm act and slaps both palms down on the desk, leaning across it and glaring at me. "I can't!" he says. "Is that what you want to hear? Fine, I admit it, I can't. I look at my books and the words don't make any sense--they're just meaningless squiggles. I'm trying to type and my hands are shaking so badly I'm reduced to hunt-and-peck, which means the report will take me about ten years to write. I thought I could do it, Jack, but I *can't.*"
Well, crap. He was pretty insistent about me making him wait, but I didn't count on this. If I can't touch him until we go home, and he can't go home until he finishes, and he can't finish unless I touch him... something's got to give.
"Daniel," I say helplessly. I suddenly have new respect for Dave, who withstood Daniel's begging and his anger without blinking.
"Look, think of it this way," he says. "I made five hours today. We'll call that a starting point. Tomorrow I'll go for a little longer, and even longer the next day... you know how it goes. I'm done for today, Jack. Seriously."
I've suddenly got a sinking feeling in my stomach. There's no way to win this one--either I do it, and right afterward he'll give me that melting- eyed look of disappointment and ask why I didn't make him wait, or I tell him no and spend the rest of the evening watching him try to translate something while going through this touch-withdrawal.
"Think about what you're fighting for," I say. I'm grasping at straws, but they're all I've got left. "You want to go through the gate again. To touch other cultures, to hear those old languages spoken like they were thousands of years ago. Isn't that why you wanted to wait as long as you could?"
"I can do that," he insists. "I'll get there, but I need to work up to it. Remember how we started with ten seconds? If Dave had tried to start with an hour, or even a minute, I never could have done it. Five hours is enough of a first step right now."
Daniel..." I'm wavering and he knows it.
"I won't blame you, Jack. I know you're trying to do what I asked, and I appreciate it, I really do, but I didn't realize how hard this would be. I probably *could* make it till we get home without totally losing it, but I'm already too far gone to concentrate on this report, and it's important."
"I could type for you," I offer. Serious last ditch attempt here--I hate typing, and I'm slow as hell.
"Jack...!" He squeezes his eyes shut and clutches at the desk. It reminds me of when he used to hang onto the couch in the VIP room, back when he was still skin and bones and needed to be held almost constantly. The sliding, queasy feeling in my belly intensifies, and I swallow.
"Daniel?"
He opens his eyes and just looks at me. I can see his chin quivering, and he keeps biting at his bottom lip, hard enough to make it swell and darken slightly. He looks like the definition of misery. "Jack," he whispers. "Please. *Please.* I can't stand it."
My stomach lurches and I'm hurrying around the desk before I have a chance to think about it. He meets me halfway and slams into my chest, his arms going around me before I can remember to take a breath. He's gotten a lot of his strength back, and once he's holding on tight, breathing is iffy at best.
"Easy, Daniel," I murmur into his hair. "You're okay now, it's all right, you're gonna be fine." All together now. Come on, you know the words.
"Sorry," he says, his chin grinding against my collarbone as he speaks. He refuses to lift his head even the fraction necessary to speak clearly. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't take anymore. God, I needed this..."
"S'okay," I mumble. What else is there to say? "It's okay, it's not your fault. It's okay."
"I'll do better next time," he promises. "And tonight, we'll work on that other thing."
I pause and make sure my hands are on his back and not heading treacherously toward his ass. "We will?"
He nods, five o'clock shadow rasping against my neck. "Yeah. I want that, too, and I feel terrible that I'm making you wait so long."
"Hey, hey," I protest. "I'm not saying you have to do it. I'm not going anywhere, Daniel, even if... that... is no longer an option." But even as I say the words, I have to wonder just how okay I am with never having sex again. I'm old, but I'm not *that* old.
"I want to," he says. "I owe you at least that much."
Okay, that's not good. "Wait just a damn minute, Daniel." I pull back so I can his face, pressing a palm against his cheek and keeping his eyes on mine. "I am not helping you with all this crap just so I can eventually get some again. I would have been here for you if we were only friends, just like Carter and Teal'c have been here, every step of the way. You don't 'owe' me anything, and even if you did, sex is not a payment or an obligation. It's something you do because *you* want to, not because you think you have to."
"I know," he says dismissively. "I didn't mean it that way."
I'm not so sure about that.
~~~
"I can do it this time," he says. "I swear I can."
"Daniel..."
"I can do it!" He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, pressing the knuckles of one fist against his mouth. When he speaks again, it sounds calmer, but he's not fooling anyone. "Jack. Seriously, I can do it. I need to do this."
"Why?"
Daniel folds his arms and leans back against the headboard, not meeting my eyes. "I need to," he says flatly.
"Maybe you're pushing a little too hard," I say, copying his pose. He's naked under the blankets, and so am I, but that's as far as we've gotten. Every time he tries to touch me, he freezes up, and let's not even talk about what happens when I try to touch him. Watching him huddle and cry in a corner because I kissed him doesn't do a whole lot for my ego.
"We've been trying this every night for a week, and I still can't do anything," he says. "If we went any slower, we'd be going backwards."
"So maybe we should try a different method."
He laughs shortly. "Oh, sure, Jack, please do enlighten me about the miracle method. You're the expert, after all."
"Daniel..." I sigh and close my eyes, rubbing the bridge of my nose. I know he's scared and frustrated and tired of this. I know that. I can be patient with him.
He's not making it very easy, though.
"Sorry," he murmurs. "Sorry I'm such a--"
"Daniel, if you apologize for being a headcase, I *will* have to hit you."
That startles a real laugh out of him, and he actually meets my eyes for the first time since we lost the clothes. "I wasn't going to say that," he says.
"Sure you weren't."
He smiles again, sheepish, rueful, but it fades. "I don't know how else to do this," he tells me. "I thought if you just laid there, and I was in control, I could do it, but I just can't. Every time I try to touch you I... I *know* it's you and I know you'd never hurt me, but I can't seem to..."
"I know, Daniel." I reach for his hand but he jerks it back, putting the blankets between us and drawing his knees to his chest. I drop my hand and he stares at it, biting his lip.
"Sorry," he whispers. "God, Jack, I don't mean to..."
"Don't you do that," I tell him sharply. "Don't you start crying again. We can fix this, you hear me? We're just going about it the wrong way."
"So what's the right way?"
Good question. "I'm only guessing here, Daniel. I'm as lost as you are, remember? But this thing, this naked together and you taking the lead thing--well, it sounded good in theory, but it's not working."
"No kidding," he says quietly.
He's still got the blankets clutched to his chest, covering as much of his body as possible, and I figure that's a good a place to start as any. "First of all," I say, "you need to keep your clothes on. Being without them is obviously making you very uncomfortable, and as long as you're so tense, we're not getting anywhere."
Daniel frowns down at the outline of his body under the covers. "We're not going to get anywhere if I'm fully clothed, either."
"Sure we are. Naked is for sex, and clearly you're not ready for that. That's like--the last step. We need a first step. A ten-second level step, you know?"
He ducks his head to hide his smile. "Is that the technical term?" he asks.
"Youbetcha, Doctor Jackson. We start at the ten-second level, and that means clothes on." I pause and tilt my head, catching his eye. "Seriously, Daniel. You need to feel safe doing this. Forcing yourself to go through it when you're scared is only going to make things worse."
"I guess so..."
I nod sharply and slide out of the bed, grabbing our usual nightwear from the dresser. I toss Daniel his stuff and then dress with my back turned, so he won't feel like I'm watching his body. He's become very self- conscious about his appearance lately, even though we all keep telling him he looks so much better. He's still got some muscle to rebuild if he wants his old body back, but even now, he looks good. Very good. Frankly, I'm keeping my back turned for my own benefit as well. Been a while, here. It's no good drooling over his bare skin when it's off-limits.
"Okay," he says, and I turn back around. He's back in the bed, blankets to his waist, snug in his tee shirt and pajama bottoms. The tension lines around his eyes and mouth have eased, and I find myself breathing a little easier just looking at him. The kind of tightly controlled panic he was radiating earlier tends to be contagious.
"Better?"
He nods. "Yeah. Warmer."
I slide in beside him and give him a puzzled look. "You were cold before?"
"Sort of," he says, and leans into me. He feels warm enough in my arms, heavy and solid against my chest. He makes a pleased sound and sighs against my neck, seemingly content to just lie with me for a while.
"Easier with the clothes, huh?" I ask. I'm not smug. Just because little old me figured it out when mister multiple Ph.D. couldn't get it, I'm not gloating. Really.
"Yes, Jack." Patient, indulgent--I can hear him rolling his eyes. I'd call his voice fond, but I don't want to go there. I have to make *some* concessions to testosterone, after all.
"That's good," I say, and he nods. His foot insinuates itself between my legs, and his arms go around me, his body pressed full length against mine. For the last week, we've shared the bed in the nude, separated by blankets and as much space as Daniel could possibly get.
God, this is better.
"So," he says after a while. "What the next step?"
What? "Next step?"
"I thought you had a plan."
"What plan? Did I say anything about a plan?"
"You thought of this."
"Ye-es... now it's your turn to think of something."
I can feel his smile against my neck. If he tilted his head just a little, his lips would be on that shivery place right behind my ear, where I can already feel the steady, soft puffs of his breath...
"Jack?"
"Mmm?"
"Are you cold?"
Just the opposite, actually. "Noooo..."
"You've got goose bumps."
Imagine that. "Huh."
He sighs and pulls back, looking at me sadly. "I know this is hard for you," he says.
"It's okay."
"So you keep saying."
"Yes, Daniel. So I keep saying, because it's true."
His hand comes up to my face, and he traces his fingertips, feather-light, over my cheekbones. His eyes are intent, fascinated, his lips parted slightly. He doesn't seem to be blinking. I watch his face as his fingers slide up, tracing along my eyebrows, lingering on the scar in my left one, then moving on to weave in my hair. His other hand ghosts over my ears, just the outer rim, then the inner, then the outer again, so slow, barely there. I close my eyes and swallow, digging my fingers into the mattress.
Hold still. Have to hold still.
"Jack?"
No, no, don't... breathe... trying to kiss him now would be bad. Very, very bad. Seriously. Don't even think about it.
"Jack?"
I *know* his mouth is right there, but it's not an invitation. He's not ready. Don't. DON'T. You can't. Just hold still.
"Jack!"
I jump and scrub a quick hand over my face, trying to erase the tingling that his touch left. "What?"
He's got a small, secret smile on his lips, his eyes bright with something. "A little distracted?"
"What? No... distracted? What?"
The smile gets bigger. "I think that's it," he says.
"What's it?"
"The ten-second step. I think I just did it."
I blink at him. "What? Did I miss it?"
"Jack." He shakes his head, grinning. He hugs me, quick and impulsive, and I hug back, wondering where I lost the thread of the conversation.
"So, explain this to me, Daniel," I say when he lets go. "Slowly. Small words."
"What I just did," he says as if it should be obvious. "When I was touching your face. It was... intimate, in a way, but safe. I felt safe. I... Jack, I actually *liked* it."
"Oh, ah..." I cough slightly, clearing my throat. "Me too. A bit."
"A bit," he says dryly. "I couldn't tell."
I get the distinct feeling that I'm being laughed at. "Okay," I admit. "More than a bit. A lot, if you want to know the truth."
"Yes, so I gathered." He can't stop grinning--he looks like the cat that got the cream. "I'm glad," he says quietly. "I'm glad I could do something for you, even if it wasn't... everything. I want so much to be able to do this for you."
"Daniel," I say sternly. "We've talked about this before. It's not just for me."
He shrugs and looks away. "I don't expect you to wait forever, Jack."
"Daniel..."
"Don't." He looks at me, all the laughter gone from his eyes. "Don't tell me that you would, that you'd be fine with us never making love again. Don't tell me that. I will not be lied to, and I will not be patronized."
"It's not a lie," I say stiffly. "I didn't know you thought so little of me, Daniel."
He makes a quick, cutting gesture with his hand, dismissive and impatient. "You know that's not it. I know you fully intend to stay with me, and Jack, you've been so great about this whole thing. You've been a rock. If it weren't for you, I don't know that I'd have even come this far, but you're only human. I don't expect sainthood from you, and I don't expect infinite patience. I *have* to do this. I have to be sure."
"Sure," I echo. Sure of what? Sure that I'll stay with him? He can only be sure of that if he's putting out, is that it? Does he really think that's the only reason I'm with him?
"That we're equals, Jack," he says gently. "That I'm giving as good as I'm getting. I want to be sure that I can make you as happy as you make me."
"Oh."
His lips twitch into an almost-smile. "Oh? That's it?"
"Um..." Dammit. Not going to get all teary, here. Just not going to happen.
"Jack..." His hands frame my face again and he pulls me close, resting his forehead against mine. "It's okay," he says.
"Isn't that my line?"
He laughs and nudges his nose forward, butting it against mine. "I'm borrowing it. It's okay, Jack. We're going to be okay."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Well. Guess we're going to be okay, then. Who am I to argue with a genius?
~~~