Jack thought that if Daniel didn't stop pacing soon, he was going to shoot him. Or not, he amended, when he remembered he didn't have a gun. Maybe he'd drown Daniel in the sink. But that wouldn't work either, because Daniel was too strong and fought too dirty to be held under the water long enough. And besides, Jack didn't really want to kill him. He just wanted Daniel to stop with the fucking pacing.
Daniel was trying to put it all together. There was some big picture here that he wasn't seeing. He was sure of it. He could see the outlines of it, out of the corner of his eye, and it was there, he knew it, if he could just...
"Daniel!"
Taking two more steps before Jack's voice registered, Daniel slowed, then stopped, turning distracted eyes toward his cellmate. "What?"
"Could you, oh, I don't know, maybe sit still for five damn minutes?"
Daniel blinked, and then his eyes narrowed. He'd been all but beating his head against the wall trying to figure this out, he hadn't slept in god knew how long, and Jack had been doing nothing but nibbling at the food and complaining about how boring it was. "I'm sorry if my attempts to get us out of here are interrupting your whining," he said, in his sweet little fuck-you tone. The one he reserved for Goa'ulds and politicians.
Jack didn't do the decent thing and take offense, didn't offer an argument that Daniel could really sink his teeth into. Instead, he asked mildly, "Have you considered taking a break?"
Daniel opened his mouth to deliver his standard line, that he was fine, and then he saw Jack's expression. A sort of fond exasperation, a face that said he knew exactly what Daniel would say, and suddenly Daniel was fed up with the pointlessness of it. This dance was old, and familiar, and he was tired and would just as soon skip it. He supposed that making Jack cajole him into resting was rather immature, anyway. He was an adult, and he should know his own limits. He was aware that he needed to calm down, to eat and sleep and quit going around in circles. Jack shouldn't have to be the one to tell him this.
So Daniel didn't argue. His irritation ran out of him in a rush, and he allowed his body to slide down one wall, ending up cross-legged on the floor. "Yeah, okay," he said. "Guess I could use a break."
Jack beamed at him, and it was so easy, to please Jack. Jack was so uncomplicated, and Daniel loved that, the way he could just sort of stop thinking for a while where Jack was concerned. All he had to do was take relatively good care of himself, not got himself killed on missions, and occasionally share a pizza with Jack over some chess or hockey, and that was enough. Jack was safe, comfortable, and familiar, and Daniel thought again how terrible this place would be if his friend wasn't here.
"Here." Jack reached over his head and grabbed one of the little red fruits, which had purple-red flesh on the inside and a small pit, like a plum, but tasted more like an orange. He tossed it to Daniel. It was the last fruit on the plate, and because Jack and Daniel were both sitting with their heads below the level of the food shelf, they didn't see the plate refill itself. They did, however, heard the small humming noise, startling in a place that was absolutely silent but for their breathing.
Their eyes met, Daniel with his mouth open and the fruit halfway to it and Jack wiping his fingers on his jacket. They both stood and look at the plate, which once again had ten small red fruits on it. This was the same number they had started with--Jack had counted them all when he decided how the food would be rationed. Every plate started with ten of its type. To Daniel, that meant speculation about the race that was holding them, how they might use base ten math, how that related to the sounds and colors and how he could tie it together. To Jack, it meant ten small meals.
"Huh," Jack said, poking at one of the fruits. He hadn't quite allowed himself to hope for something like this, but he was very glad to see it. The food wouldn't have lasted very long otherwise.
Daniel picked up the last piece of bread from its plate, and a few seconds later, they heard the hum again. There was a brief shimmer of light, barely visible in all the white, and then more bread appeared. Ten pieces, neatly stacked.
"Someone's watching us," Daniel said.
"Or it's an automated system," Jack replied. He didn't like to discourage Daniel, but somebody had to stay grounded in reality.
Shrugging, Daniel wrapped the last two pieces of meat in his bread slice and took a bite. They watched as the meat plate refilled itself. Jack pushed the last few tubers off their plate, leaving them on the shelf, and that plate refilled as well. They could stockpile a large amount of food very fast in this manner, he thought, but they also had no way of preserving the food. Jack decided to compromise by keeping a small amount in reserve, and relying on the food supply to stay constant.
Now that there was no need to ration, they both enjoyed their first full meal since they had arrived in the cell. There was no way to tell time, but if hunger was a reliable gauge, they'd been here about two days. Daniel wondered if that meant the lights came on once a day. Or if they came on at different intervals. He was trying to think of a way to determine how much time elapsed between episodes when the problem was taken out of his hands. The lights were starting again.
Jack immediately stepped away, moving to a corner near the sink and toilet. The low, vaguely sweet pressure which had never fully disappeared since the last time was already cycling up with a disconcerting speed. Jack estimated that the lights lasted for about ten minutes each time. It didn't sound like long, but he was pretty sure it would be too long to wait.
Daniel swallowed his last bite of bread in a mouth that had suddenly gone dry. He could see Jack eyeing the facilities, and he licked his lips, his fists clenching tight enough for his fingernails to hurt his palms. He tightened them further, but the small pain wasn't enough to drown out the sharp, twisting want in his belly.
Darting a quick, furtive look at Daniel, Jack waved toward the sink and toilet. "I'm just going to..."
Daniel nodded rapidly. "Yeah," he said. "I'll..." And he turned around, his hands gripping the edge of the food shelf. He stared fixedly at the strips of meat. He thought about them. They didn't taste like chicken. They were slightly sweet, and made him think of beef jerky glazed with honey, except that they carried no glaze, and left no stickiness on his hands. He heard Jack's breath catch in his throat with a little choking gasp, and then blow out in a rush, and he gritted his teeth and stared harder at the little strips of meat. He speculated as to what kind of animal they came from. He hoped it wasn't anything that could talk.
Jack knew how to be quiet. He had spent the better part of his life in the military, and he was accustomed to close living quarters with little or no privacy. It was an unwritten rule in such situations that if the man in the bunk next to you was engaging in a little stress relief, you pretended not to notice. He remembered big, crowded rooms with sixty or more bunks, and the ubiquitous 'happy sock' under each pillow. Everyone did it, and you learned selective hearing.
Jack's fingers were shaking, and he held his breath, forcing them still. Not for the first time, he cursed the button fly of his BDU pants and wondered why the military couldn't just use zippers like the rest of the country. He knew, of course, the tactical reasons, the slight sound that a zipper made might be the sound that got you caught, but at the moment, he didn't care. When his fly was open, he shoved his shorts down unceremoniously, not bothering to push them past his thighs. The cool air hit hot skin and he almost lapsed in his ability to be quiet.
Painfully aware of Daniel behind him, Jack was nonetheless ecstatic to finally wrap his hand around his dick. His hips jerked forward reflexively, and he squeezed hard, closing his eyes. A very low groan built in his throat, and he swallowed it, clamping his teeth together. He kept his eyes closed and aimed using the sound of the water to guide him. His fist moved up, his thumb pressing against the head, and his other hand went to cup his balls, hard and tight against his body. A long, shuddering breath rushed past tight lips, and his head fell back.
He didn't want to be doing this, didn't want to be forced to jerk off in a room with Daniel, didn't like the coercion or the loss of control over his own body, but it was so damn good. His fist slid back down, already wet with sweat, dragging at the skin with just the right amount of friction, and his hips stuttered forward again. He wasn't going to last long, and he didn't want to. Up, down again, and he swallowed another moan, bracing himself against the wall with his free hand. Head down, sweat dripping from his forehead, he cracked his eyes open to check his aim, centered himself, and pulled one more time.
He locked his knees, which were threatening to fold beneath him, and came, turning his head and biting his collar, unable to completely suppress a high, gasping whine. The sound came through his nose, and his eyes were squeezed shut so hard that they were beginning to hurt, but all that was secondary, peripheral. He was aware of shooting over the bowl itself and hitting the wide slide of water, slipping down the wall, but that was all right. His come was washed away quickly, and he was glad. He didn't want Daniel to see it.
Then he was done, shaking all over, his legs still weak and watery, his breath coming in harsh pants. He opened his eyes and stared blearily at the sink basin, which was about two inches from his forehead. He was still bent over, one hand on the wall, pants bunched at his spread thighs, his softening dick resting in his palm. Jack swallowed, leaned over and grabbed a quick mouthful of water, and rinsed his hands. He pulled his pants up and tucked himself away, relieved that the lights were no longer affecting him. He'd been a little worried that he would come and just stay hard, but that didn't seem to be the case, thank god.
"Jack!"
Jack turned as fast as he could on unsteady legs, surprised at Daniel's voice. He didn't remember ever hearing quite that tone from his friend before. "What?"
"Hurry," Daniel said, aware that he was begging, not caring. If Jack didn't finish soon, he was going to join him, embarrassing or not.
Now that the urgency was gone, Jack could feel embarrassed, but he didn't really, because Daniel was in the same boat. He briefly considered telling Daniel to wait, messing with him a little, but then he thought of how he would feel if he was still waiting, remembered just how badly he needed it, and decided to have mercy. "Just finished," he said cheerfully. He was about to invite Daniel to take his place by the toilet, but Daniel didn't wait for an invitation. He rushed past Jack, his head down, already undoing his pants. Jack had time to notice that Daniel's face had progressed past red to something resembling purple, and then he dutifully turned his back.
Daniel wasn't good at being quiet. He had never even tried to be quiet. When he was in college, getting laid was something of an accomplishment, and on Abydos, Sha're had been proud of the vocal reactions she could cause.
Daniel thought that Jack was probably going to hear him, but he was beyond caring. Maybe he'd worry about it afterwards. Right now, all that mattered was getting the unbearable pressure off his dick. He thought he'd rupture something if it didn't stop.
He had his pants down and was struggling with his briefs, which were damp with sweat and dragging stubbornly, when he noticed his vision graying out and remembered to breathe. He sucked air in and released it in a series of high, whimpering sounds. "Ah, ah, ah, ah," he breathed, and behind him, Jack straightened, and then ducked his head, embarrassed for them both. He was glad he went first. He didn't think that he could have listened to Daniel make those noises and still continued to wait.
Finally getting his briefs down, Daniel tried to contain a low moan. His effort was wasted when he wrapped his hand around himself and a sharp yell was startled from his throat. Daniel didn't use his languages during sex. His mind was simplified, cleared, and he shifted into a lower gear to express his pleasure. "Oh, fuck," he muttered, no longer caring that Jack could hear. No longer even aware that Jack was in the room. He hated that he was forced into this, but oh, it was almost worth it. He was gaining speed now, hips jerking back and forth, and he was still failing to be quiet.
"Oh, god," Jack heard, and he wiped a hand across his face. He wished Daniel would keep it down. He knew a lot about Daniel, but what he sounded like when he got off wasn't something he wanted to find out.
Daniel was moaning now, his pitch getting a little higher on each rapid exhale, and he kept saying "yes," like it was some great discovery, like he just found the word and he loved it so much that he had to celebrate.
Daniel reached an eye-watering pitch and then his voice dropped at least an octave and delivered a deep, long groan that raised the hair on the back of Jack's neck. He found himself breathing in time with Daniel's panting and forced himself to stop. His knuckles were white where he was gripping the food shelf. He tried to swallow, but couldn't summon enough moisture in his mouth.
"Wow," Daniel murmured, looking at the wide spray of semen on the wall. He had overshot the target just a bit. Quickly, before Jack could notice, he spread some water around, wiping up his mess. Then he tucked, buttoned, and washed his hands, splashing some water on his face, which was still burning.
The lights stopped as he was flinging excess water from his hands, and it occurred to Daniel that he didn't even try to solve the pattern of the flashing colors this time. Not that he was in a particularly logical frame of mind. Jack had time after he finished, and he didn't try either, Daniel thought. That somehow made it acceptable.
Jack still hadn't turned around. Daniel looked at his back, the tense line of his shoulders, and realized Jack had to know he was done. He'd certainly made enough noise--and maybe that was problem. Which made a certain amount of sense. Jack, for all his bluster and bravado, was a very private man about some things. Daniel wondered what Jack was bothered by more--the noise he made, or what Jack himself had done so quietly.
Daniel was pretty embarrassed, but acting all shy and flustered wasn't going to make things any easier. Besides, it appeared that Jack was taking the role of 'shy and flustered' today, so Daniel would just have to act unconcerned.
He stepped up beside Jack, tore off a bit of bread, and popped it into his mouth. "Next time," he said, "I get to go first."
Jack was leaning forward, the heels of his hands resting against the shelf, his elbows locked. He slowly turned his head, and found Daniel regarding him steadily, a hint of a smile around his eyes. Daniel was inviting him to laugh at the situation, to dismiss it, to treat it as just another thing for the weird shit file. Jack was swept by a sudden rush of gratitude for Daniel, for being the most unpredictable, confusing, stubborn, maddening person Jack had ever known, and for being the one person he could count on to say the right thing when it really mattered.
So Jack grinned, and gave Daniel a little shove, bumping their shoulders together. "That's what you think," he said.
Daniel just smiled and stretched, planting his hands in the small of his back and wiggling the kinks out of his neck. He yawned, dusted his hands together, and moved over to one wall. "I'm going to sleep," he told Jack.
That sounded like a great idea to Jack, and he arranged himself against the opposite wall, wadding his jacket up beneath his head and watching Daniel. He noticed that Daniel fell asleep with no difficulty, then smirked a little because he knew why. He fell asleep still watching Daniel.