Daniel was almost asleep when the lights started again. Jack, who had fallen asleep easily despite the hard floor and constant brightness, woke and rose immediately to his feet. His hands dropped down for a weapon that wasn't there before his conscious mind caught up with his instincts.
Daniel dragged himself up more slowly, rubbing at his hip, which was sore from his efforts to find a comfortable position. He pushed away his irritation at the interruption of near-sleep and focused on the colors.
Jack leaned against one wall and listened carefully, making a halfhearted attempt to match the sound by tapping his fingers on the wall. The sound was too erratic to predict, and besides, he thought it didn't mean anything. Jack's gut told him that the lights and noises were just a distraction, a false lead that would divert their attention from the real way out.
Daniel tried different color combinations, moving with the steady flashing and pressing his hands against the squares. Jack watched him work, and his experience with the way Daniel thought was enough for him to predict what Daniel would try next. When Daniel brought up both hands and started hitting two reds, then two yellows, and so on, Jack smiled and gave himself a mental pat on the back. I've got your number, he thought, but he also knew Daniel well enough to know that he was only guessing, grasping at straws. Daniel had no idea how to get them out.
It looked as if Jack would have to bite the bullet and talk to Daniel about the other effect of the lights. Because that was starting again too, and he could see Daniel noticing and pretending not to. They couldn't ignore something that was potentially important, couldn't avoid it when it might be the reason they were here. Daniel could talk all he wanted about how they'd be rescued, but they both knew that sitting around and waiting to be sprung free was a bad plan.
Pressing the colored squares was getting Daniel nowhere, and he braced his arms against the wall, dropping his head down and taking several deep breaths. He had always considered the requirements of his body to be secondary to whatever his mind was working on, but this wasn't the same as ignoring the need to eat or sleep. He wasn't ready to concede the battle, though, and he began to rap his knuckles against the shelf with the food on it, trying to match the pattern of noise.
"I tried that," Jack said. His hands were deep in his pockets. Daniel refused to give too much thought as to what those hands were doing there.
"I don't knew what else to do," Daniel replied shortly. He could hear the strain in his voice, and he met Jack's gaze for a long moment. It was obvious they both had the same problem. Daniel told himself there was no reason to be embarrassed--they were suffering the effects of alien technology and couldn't be blamed for natural, physical reactions.
Jack cleared his throat and a muscle in his jaw twitched. He shifted all his weight from one leg to the other, and back again. Daniel's fingers were tapping nervously against the shelf behind him, and he deliberately made them still, grasping the blunt edge in both hands and holding it tight.
"So, it's doing the same thing to both of us," Daniel said, the words coming out in a rush. "Possibly as a kind of laboratory experiment? That's something I hadn't considered. We could be exposed to various stimuli in an effort to understand our physiology and capacity for reasoning. Maybe there is no specific way to touch the colors to garner a result, but the mere fact that we were attempting to find a logical solution was giving them information. In this case, the answer doesn't matter so much as the method we use to reach that answer--"
Jack slipped in when Daniel paused for breath with the ease of long practice. "Daniel."
Daniel blinked at him. "What?"
"Babbling."
Another blink, slower, more deliberate. "Right. So. Do you have any theories?"
"No," Jack said, drawing the word out and raising his eyebrows. "I think someone is messing with our heads."
Daniel dropped his eyes below Jack's belt automatically, and then jerked them back up. "Yes," he said, "literally and figuratively."
Jack tightened his jaw enough to make his teeth hurt and fought the urge to cover his groin with his hands. "Funny, Daniel."
Pulling his glasses off, Daniel rubbed a damp palm over his face and scrubbed at his mouth with his fingertips. "The more I think about it, the more a laboratory seems right. We've been captured as... specimens, I guess, and are now being tested."
"So how do we pass the test?" Because Jack would really, really like to get out of there. An exit to any place that he could have five minutes of privacy would be just fine.
Daniel shook his head and tugged at the bottom of his jacket, pulling it away from his body. "That's not how it works. There are no 'correct' responses."
"How do you know that? Maybe they're waiting for us to do what... what they're making us want to do, and if we play along, we get out."
"And maybe it's a test of willpower, and if we wait, we get out," Daniel countered. "Or maybe we were captured by an automated system and no one is watching us at all. Or maybe no matter how we respond, we stay trapped. I don't know, Jack!" His voice climbed to a near shout at the end and he closed his eyes, grinding his teeth together.
Jack began to kick the wall behind him, the rubber heel of his boot almost silent against the alien material. "So, what? You want to ignore it?"
"The lights stopped after a few minutes last time," Daniel said, uncomfortably aware that his voice had risen at least half an octave.
Jack took an exaggerated glance around the room. "Not stopping," he pointed out.
"I'd noticed."
"So?"
Daniel glared across the room and then began to undo the buttons of his jacket, muttering dark imprecations under his breath. Jack's eyes widened, and he tried to take a step back, but was blocked by the wall.
"Daniel? What're you doing?"
"I'm hot," Daniel snapped.
"Yeah."
Daniel pulled the jacket off, leaving his brown tee, which was visibly damp down the center of his chest. He stared at Jack. "What?"
Jack blinked and swallowed, then shook himself. "What? Nothing."
Pausing, Daniel tilted his head to one side and frowned. "I wasn't going to..."
"I know."
"I was just--"
"Hot," Jack finished for him. "Right. I got that."
Daniel started to pace, winced, hunched over slightly, and went back to standing still. One hand clutched the food shelf; the other gripped the back of his neck. He began counting his breaths, five seconds in, and five out. He timed himself with the rhythmic flashing lights and made a concerted effort to slow his racing heartbeat. He could feel it in the soles of his feet.
"Would you stop that?" Jack said in a strangled voice.
"Stop what?"
"Breathing."
Daniel stared at him, deep furrows appearing between his eyebrows, his mouth half open. He brought his jaw up with a snap when he realized Jack was staring. "I'll just hold my breath."
"Snippiness," Jack said in a low, raspy voice, and Daniel shivered.
"I won't look," Daniel blurted out.
"Excuse me?" Jack looked confused, but Daniel had been his friend long enough to knew the difference between real confusion and playing dumb.
"If you want to..." Daniel made a hand gesture that no one could possibly misunderstand. "I won't look."
Jack nodded once. "Ah. That. Are you going to...?"
"No. I can handle it." Daniel closed his eyes for a moment as he heard his words and held up a hand, stilling Jack's open mouth. "Don't," he said. "You know what I mean."
Jack seriously considered taking Daniel up on his offer. The tapping, clicking noise was loud enough to cover any low sounds, and he was adept at being quiet. It would be fast. He shifted, winced, and amended to himself: very fast. He could aim for the toilet, no muss, no fuss, and he'd feel much better.
But Daniel wasn't going to do it. Daniel could hold out. Jack examined the idea of jerking off in the same room as Daniel, caving under the pressure, while Daniel himself looked the other way and stayed firm. Literally.
Nope. Not going to happen.
But maybe he could convince Daniel to do it too. If they both did it, it was alright, and he wanted to. He really wanted to. Jack opened his mouth, but failed to deliver a compelling argument. His brain had gone on strike. It was refusing to cooperate until it started receiving its rightful share of the blood volume in his body again.
Daniel tilted his head back, unable to prevent a low whine deep in his throat. He was about to swallow his pride and yell at Jack to get on with it already, so he could have his turn, when the lights stopped.
Jack slumped against his wall, which he was growing rather fond of, and patted the slick whiteness. "Well, that was fun," he muttered. "Let's do that again real soon."
"Let's not," Daniel said. His eyes were still closed, a patchy, hectic flush high on his cheekbones. The low, throbbing ache was receding, but not particularly fast. He found himself wishing he had capitulated and just gotten it over with. Maybe next time, he thought, and the idea wasn't entirely unpleasant.
Jack stepped over to the sink basin and wondered if dipping his head into the steady flow of water would be too obvious. They had already found the water to be very cold, and entirely tasteless, in an airy, crisp sort of way. He thought it would feel fantastic on his overheated skin, particularly his neck and ears, which felt like they must be bright red. He glanced over at Daniel and took some comfort from the fact that he couldn't possibly be that red.
Jack settled on washing his hands and face, doing it fast and sloppy enough to got a rather large amount of the icy water on his shirt. He could feel his skin prickling into goose bumps, the shiver coursing down his back and seizing his balls, which were already high and tight against his body. Jack braced his arms against the basin and shook himself like a dog, water flying from his hair, leaving it spiked and messy.
Watching him through half-lidded eyes, Daniel waited until Jack had wandered over to the food with forced nonchalance, and then he followed Jack's example with the water. Scooping up a double handful, he dumped it over his head, and then sucked in a quick breath, making a high squeak in his throat. "Damn, that's cold," he gasped. Across the room, Jack chuckled, and offered a slightly embarrassed grin.
"Yeah," he said. "Feels good, huh?"
Daniel nodded and joined Jack in examining the food. "So," he said. "Breakfast?"