The next time the lights came on, Jack stumbled in his haste, reached a hand out to steady himself, and landed on Daniel's shoulder instead of the wall. Daniel stared at him, and Jack was struck by how much darker Daniel's eyes got when they were doing this. It wasn't just the wide, dilated pupils; the blue itself seemed to darken. It made him think of deep water.
Jack tried to take his hand away. Failed.
Daniel turned to face him, sidestepped with him, brought his own hand up. Left hand, right shoulder. He could feel Jack's muscles work under his palm, bunch and release. Jack could feel the same. Daniel squeezed, dug his fingers in, Jack leaned forward and squeezed back, and the lights told them they were doing it right. Total flash, total darkness, and then back to the blinking and clicking.
The time after that, they started out touching, hand to shoulder. By the end, Daniel's hand had slipped down to Jack's elbow.
The next time, Daniel touched Jack before he had time to fully undo his pants, because the need for that connection had become stronger than the need for individual release. Daniel fumbled with his buttons one handed, and Jack didn't stop to think what he was doing when he reached down to help. When his fingertips grazed over Daniel's skin, the lights rewarded them again.
It was a helpless, irresistible slide. There was nothing else here to think about, nothing to focus on. They weren't really talking anymore. The environment never changed, and the numbing sameness of it all made one day blend into the next. Jack had lost track. He found himself devoting a lot of thought to how far they would get the next time.
The mutual hand jobs were not so bad, Jack told himself. His hand on Daniel's dick, Daniel's hand on his, eye contact, yes, but no real intimacy. They didn't kiss or even get close, other than their hands. It was sex at arm's length. He thought that was okay. It was acceptable. Their hands were even similar. Wide palms, long, strong fingers, calloused. It might as well be his own hand. Not so different.
Daniel tapped his shoulder, interrupting his rationalizing.
"Yuh?" Jack grunted, tilting his head back to look up at Daniel. Jack was sitting against one wall, legs splayed out in front of him, arms folded.
"Laundry," Daniel said. He already had his jacket off. Jack watched as Daniel removed his tee, appreciating what he saw without really thinking about it.
"Okay." Jack stood, gave Daniel his jacket. Daniel tied it around his waist, then removed his pants, socks, and underwear. They had gone without boots for several days now. Socks were just easier.
Daniel carried his bundle of clothes to the sink and began washing. Jack sat back down and scratched his face, where his beard was growing in. He hadn't gone more than a day or two without shaving for years, and he was vaguely glad that they had no mirrors. He didn't really want to know how much gray was in his beard now.
He watched Daniel's back as he worked. Daniel was humming something tuneless and slightly nasal. His last allergy shot wore off some time ago, and although there were no allergens in here, he was still prone to slightly snuffly breathing. His light tan was fading in the artificial light, but he had lost no muscle tone. They'd both been doing calisthenics, to help their bodies deal with the confinement.
Jack considered how broad Daniel's shoulders were. He gauged the size of Daniel's biceps, the way muscles were visible under the skin of his back, moving as Daniel scrubbed, the line of his spine reaching down beneath the jacket slung low on his hips. Jack wondered if he could still take Daniel in a fight. Daniel was probably heavier, he conceded, and possibly stronger, but Jack still had the superior reach, and would always have superior experience.
Not that he expected to have to fight Daniel. Daniel wouldn't force him to do anything. Of course not.
Jack redirected his thoughts before they could become troublesome. Beards. That was a safe subject. Daniel looked strange with facial hair. It was coming in reddish brown, thicker than Jack expected. It drove Daniel nuts. He was forever scratching at it and wishing he had a razor. Jack wished for a razor for other reasons. He still hated being without any kind of weapon in a hostile environment.
Daniel hadn't pressured Jack about the breeding thing again, but Jack thought it was only a matter of time. Daniel just didn't give up that easily. He knew Daniel, knew the way Daniel thought. Daniel was just giving him some time to get his own head straight. Waiting for Jack to quit being an ass and come around to his way of thinking.
It bugged Jack, the unconscious patronizing nature of it, Daniel's assumption that Jack was the one who needed to rethink his attitude. But that was alright, because Jack knew how to win an argument with Daniel. It was quite simple, really. Don't engage. Don't even try to out talk him, don't counter his points with your own. That was a sure path to confusion and eventual capitulation. In this case, not fighting meant winning.
Jack was aware of the irony. It was funny, in the same way aliens trying to make he and Daniel breed was funny.
Daniel had finished wringing all the water he could out of the clothes. He laid them out to dry, hanging them off the edge of the food shelf, and turned back to the sink. He scrubbed his own body, dipping his head into the stream of water to wash his hair. Jack got an eyeful when Daniel lifted one leg, propped it on the toilet seat and rinsed, but that was nothing new. He'd been getting an eyeful and a handful for some time now, and it had become routine.
Jack watched Daniel because there was nothing else to watch. Eventually, Daniel finished and rubbed his freshly cleaned, damp tee over himself to pick up the excess water. He mopped up the floor, wrung the tee out again, and hung it back up. He retied the jacket around his waist and did some stretching. Jack watched.
Daniel laced his fingers together and rose to his toes, his arms high over his head. Jack could see him inhale and deliberately tighten his abs. Their healthy, boring diet was beginning to show there, and the little softness around Daniel's middle was nearly gone. Daniel was still damp, his hair plastered to the back of his neck, very uncombed in front, and starting to get too long. He twisted, and Jack could see his navel, where the jacket slipped down a little, the taut skin over his hip bones, and the little hollow just inside of them.
Jack wondered how far they would get tonight.
"I have a theory," Daniel said.
Jack, standing at the sink and scrubbing his teeth with one finger, closed his eyes for a moment. He spit water out and sighed. "Here we go."
"You've been captured before."
Jack turned, regarded him steadily. Daniel was standing with his arms folded, his chin tilted down slightly, looking at Jack over the rims of his glasses. His stare was focused, determined. His lower jaw was thrust out slightly, his eyebrows up. Jack knew that face. Daniel was gearing up for an argument.
"So have you," Jack said pleasantly, as if he didn't see what was coming.
Daniel shook his head. "It's not the same for me. Yes, I've been captured with the team, on several occasions, and just recently I had that little adventure in South America, but I've never been... indoctrinated on the rules of being a prisoner."
Jack crossed the room and began to fiddle with the food. He felt vaguely nauseated at the sight of it. Eating had become a chore, a necessary thing to keep up strength and health. "I assume you're going somewhere with this," he said over his shoulder.
Daniel sighed and followed him, standing beside Jack and waiting for him to look up. When Jack didn't, Daniel spoke to his profile. "We have a different instinctive response. When I'm in trouble, I talk. I ask questions, I find out their side of it, I try to see if we can come to some kind of agreement. It's my most reliable tool. I know I'm argumentative and pushy and probably a pain in the ass, but it works for me."
Jack gave him a sidelong look. "Probably?" he mimicked, raising his eyebrows.
"Right, but, my point is--"
"I was wondering," Jack muttered.
Daniel rolled his eyes. "The point is that your response isn't to talk. You don't want to know their side of it. You've been drilled with that military 'name, rank, serial number' thing, and that's all you want to do. Never give an inch, never compromise, and never lose control."
"Yeah?" Jack replied, shrugging. "So?"
"So you're applying past experiences to a situation that is completely different. This isn't like being interrogated by enemy intelligence. Resisting until you have no options left isn't always the best choice."
Jack groaned and walked away. "Christ, Daniel," he said, "not this again."
Daniel followed him, still talking, relentless. "I think you're making a link between the last time you were a prisoner for a significant period of time and now. I think that's the stumbling block for you, and if you could just see it, you'd realize how fighting this doesn't make sense."
Jack had a hand over his eyes, his back against the wall. He was so tired of Daniel. "What are you talking about?"
Daniel got up close to him, pulled his hand down, forced Jack to meet his eyes. "This isn't Iraq," he said softly, squeezing Jack's hand a little as if that made up for opening a subject that was clearly off limits.
Drawing in a fast breath, Jack stiffened, and then made a concerted effort to relax. "I know that," he replied coolly. "It was difficult to figure out, but I picked up on the subtle differences."
Daniel ignored the sarcasm, discarded it as meaningless. "Were you forced when you were a prisoner there? Is that what this was about?"
Jack planted his hands on Daniel's chest and shoved hard, sending Daniel stumbling back, trying to keep his feet. "Out of line, Daniel." Jack's voice was tight, controlled. "Way out of line."
"Yes, okay," Daniel said hastily. "I knew I shouldn't have asked that. It's not my business. But I just don't understood why you can't--"
"You don't need to understand. I said no, and that's final. No argument, no psychology, no theories. No." Jack had drawn himself to his full height, his head down slightly, like a bull preparing to charge. He jabbed his hands forward a little to emphasize each point.
"So that's it, we spend another month in here working our way up to what will happen anyway because you say so?" Daniel's voice was beginning to rise, his hands spread wide. Two patches of color flared up on his cheekbones. "Because you're not even willing to consider the possibility, because you can't overcome whatever hang-ups you have, we're stuck here! That's great, Jack, that's just great."
"Back off," Jack growled. "You have no right to expect me to do this."
"Expect you to do what? Listen to me? Actually consider that I might have a point, if you'd only open your eyes? Jack, we could be out of here! We could have been out of here days ago!"
"You don't know that!" Jack shot back. "All you have was your pet theory. What if you're wrong?"
Daniel stepped in close, his arms up, coming perilously close to stamping his feet. "What if I'm right? What could it hurt to try?"
Jack grabbed Daniel's shoulders and pulled him in a little, wanting to shake him, to get him to stop talking for one damn minute and listen. Daniel was so stubborn, so relentless, and Jack couldn't let him win, couldn't let it happen because if he did it and he didn't have to, what did that say about him?
Daniel's hands came up defensively, gripping Jack's upper arms, and Jack shoved him back and forth slightly, a half-hearted shake. Their arms were bent, Jack against the wall and Daniel almost holding him there, close enough to feel Jack's rapid breath on his face.
It wasn't time for the lights to start, not for hours, but they started anyway.
Daniel saw Jack's eyes widen, his harsh breathing catching for a moment and then getting even faster. He leaned in, slid his hands down, and pressed them hard on either side of Jack's waist. Jack's hands tightened convulsively on his shoulders.
"Oh, god dammit, Daniel," Jack groaned. "Why'd you do that?"
Then he spun, fast, pinning Daniel against the wall with his entire body, shoving a knee in between Daniel's legs. Daniel's back hit the wall hard and air rushed out of him. He sucked in a deep breath and wrapped his hands around Jack's hips, lifting one leg and hooking it behind Jack.
Burying his face against Daniel's shoulder, Jack panted in and out, his vision wavering, his chest on fire. He couldn't get enough air. Couldn't get enough Daniel.
"Harder," Daniel hissed in his ear. They were tight against each other now, still fully clothed. Jack's shorts were clinging to him, and his pants were dragging over the thin, damp cotton. He was aware of Daniel's hard cock and softer belly, aware of driving into that warmth, that living, moving surface.
"Oh, fuck," Jack wheezed. Daniel was making his low, frantic whine, his hips jerking forward erratically, and they were both going too fast, too rough. There was no rhythm, no easy slide. Each time they clashed together was painful, almost too painful to be good, and then Jack bent his knees a little and started pushing up instead of straight forward.
Daniel angled his ass to one side, and Jack fit into the hollow of his hip, and he fit into Jack the same way. Daniel stroked up, shuddering into the deep, sliding pressure, yanking Jack more firmly against him. Jack thrust, then allowed himself to be pushed back, and then it was his turn again. There was the rhythm. Daniel could feel Jack's breath against his neck, could hear Jack's low grunts right in his ear. His skin prickled, tightened, fine hairs rising on his arms and the back of his neck, nipples contracting into hard little pebbles, achingly sensitive to the battering of Jack's chest against his.
"Yeah," Daniel gasped. "Yes, oh god, Jack..."
Jack froze, his heartbeat a thundering rush in his ears, the pressure and friction against his cock almost unbearably good. He was shocked, floored, to hear Daniel say his name. That wasn't how this worked. They didn't say each other's names. But then Daniel moaned in protest and dragged him close again, his hands clamped to Jack's ass, jerking him back and forth, and Jack forgot that they didn't do this.
Daniel was tilting his head, his face was touching Jack's, their cheeks scraping together, rough and scratchy. His mouth was getting close to Jack's. "Mmm!" Jack said, lips pressed firmly together. "Mmm, mmm!" It was a warning. Of course it was. He certainly didn't want Daniel to kiss him.
Daniel's mouth opened suddenly and Jack was aware of warmth and wetness on his jaw, on the place where his jaw hinged, hot, damp breath rushing over his earlobe and making him shiver. Daniel's tongue flickered out, grazed Jack's neck, and he hollered and came, pounding Daniel into the wall.
Daniel began to come in the moment of total darkness as the lights told them they were on the right track. Total color, perfect black, and a kind of crescendo in the clicking. Jack was still spurting weakly, and he moaned and tried to twist away as Daniel jerked into him. He felt raw and oversensitive and spent, but Daniel was too far gone to stop. Jack's knees buckled, his head was spinning, and he slumped forward, his chin hooked over Daniel's shoulder and his arms around Daniel's waist.
Catching Jack before he could slide to the floor, Daniel leaned back, joining his hands under Jack's ass and lifting him slightly, taking most of his weight. Jack was shaking against him, gasping in his ear, limp.
They let the wall hold them up, waiting for their breathing to slow. Waiting for their legs to work again. Around them, unnoticed, the walls turned white again and the sound stopped .
"It wasn't... time for... the lights," Daniel panted.
"Yeah."
"They saw. Took... took advantage of the situation."
"Yeah."
Daniel tried to look at Jack, but could only see the top of his head. Jack's hair was tickling his nose. "I'm sorry," he said.
Jack found his legs and straightened, wobbling over to the sink and scooping water over his face, swallowing what he could catch. He looked at Daniel with water still running down his cheeks, dripping off his chin, and raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"What I said," Daniel continued. He was looking down, plucking at the damp, sticky front of his pants. "I was out of line."
Jack nodded and wiped water off his face, scrubbing absently at the side of his neck. Right by the hinge of his jaw. "Yeah, you were."
"I hate it here," Daniel muttered. He looked up at Jack, spread his hands. "I was just looking for a way out."
Jack sighed and leaned against the wall. "I know," he said. "But I can't... there has to be another way."
"What, exactly, stops you from doing it my way?" Daniel asked, narrowing his eyes. "Is it because you see it as giving in to a captor's demands? Breaking? Or is it something else?"
Jack shook his head, shrugging. "Isn't it enough that I said no? Do you have to know why?"
"Do you know why?"
And Jack winced, because he had forgotten the cardinal rule: don't got into a war of words with a linguist. Particularly not this linguist. "Daniel," he said, warningly.
Daniel ignored the warning. Of course he did. "You don't, do you? It's just some ingrained response in you, that this is wrong, that you can't do it. So, what, it was acceptable if you had no choice? If you're forced into it, if you fight it until the very end, that makes it okay, but if you do it willingly you're... compromised? Diminished, somehow?"
"Drop it, Daniel," Jack said flatly. Because Daniel was far too close.
Daniel's voice was soft, earnest, and it would be so much easier to dismiss him if he was yelling. "All I ask was that you think about it, Jack. Figure out why you can't do this. If you can give me a reason, a real reason, I won't ask again."
"How about, because I said so. That's a reason."
"Just think about it," Daniel insisted. "Please?"
Jack covered his face with his hand, took a deep breath, and then lifted both hands in the air. "Oh, for crying out loud. Fine, Daniel. This is me, thinking about it, okay?"
"Okay," Daniel said, and just like that, the discussion was over and he was starting to get cleaned up.
Jack had the sinking feeling that he had lost yet another argument with Daniel.