Jack would have been fine if not for the road construction.
The trip back in the ship had been quiet, full of the simple pleasures of really clean uniforms and private bathroom facilities and bunks with actual mattresses. Jack had even enjoyed the MREs, something which he would have previously declared impossible. Daniel had been positively ecstatic over instant coffee and a clean, fresh journal that Sam brought especially for him.
Then, the SGC, full of smiling people welcoming them back and hot showers and clean shaves and a medical exam so thorough that Jack was grateful he and Daniel had never gotten to the Main Event. Because that would have been fun to explain.
A debriefing full of Daniel disguising the fact that he wasn't telling them everything by telling them a whole lot of nothing, at least as far as Jack had been able to tell. And judging by the slightly glazed expression on Hammond's face, he hadn't been the only one. Kudos all around for a successful rescue, a clear medical exam, (your cholesterol levels are excellent, Colonel, you must have had a very healthy diet) and they'd been given a week of downtime, just to settle back in.
It was great. Driving down the mountain, fresh air, music, and civilian clothes. Jack was in an excellent mood. He was putting the entire situation with Daniel firmly in the Weird Shit that Never Happened file in his head, and closing the lid. It was over.
And then, the road construction.
It was close to his house, on the intersection that led to his road, actually. He couldn't avoid it. There was no construction there last time he drove this way, but then, that was some time ago. He shrugged it off. It was a hassle, slowed traffic down, but it couldn't touch his mood. He thought it would take a full scale Goa'uld invasion of earth to bring him down.
That was when he saw the flashing orange caution lights, and discovered that things weren't so peachy after all.
Jack couldn't look away from them. They lined both sides of the road, redirecting traffic away from the giant hole in the pavement. He couldn't close his eyes, because he was driving. All he could do was grit his teeth and shift uncomfortably in his seat as traffic inched forward.
He moved his truck to the edge of his lane and craned his neck, trying to see the slowdown. There appeared to be a big yellow bulldozer crossing the road ahead, a man on the ground walking backwards in front of it and guiding the driver around the orange cones with hand signals. All cars were stopped as this procession lumbered across the road.
Jack tilted his head back and blew air through his teeth, making a hissing noise. He squeezed his legs together, putting pressure on his balls, hoping for some relief, but it didn't help. He reached one hand into the back seat and cast about blindly, as if he might have left a convenient ice pack back there.
He looked to either side, checking if anyone in the lanes beside him could see into his truck. It sat pretty high off the ground, so chances were good that nobody would know the difference if he opened his fly and went for it right there. His truck was a stick shift, which made one-handed driving difficult, but not impossible. It could work.
Jack spared a moment to debate the tackiness level of jerking off in public, and risk of being seen; considered whether he should just wait until he got home. But it was a short moment.
Dropping the transmission into neutral, Jack spread his legs as much as he could, unzipped with shaking fingers (sending a mental thank you to the Levi corporation for making jeans with such easy zippers) and gave his dick a firm squeeze through his underwear.
His hips jerked forward, his foot slipped off the brake, and his truck began to slowly roll backward due to his uphill slant. When the car behind him honked its horn, Jack jumped, opened his eyes, and stomped on the brake. He looked at the driver in his rearview mirror and offered an apologetic wave. The driver glared.
"Shit," Jack muttered, shifting in his seat again. He put the truck in gear, rolled forward about ten feet, and was forced to stop again. He pulled the waistband of his underwear down, glanced to his left, and quickly pulled it back up. He had drawn even with a tractor trailer, and the driver had a clear line of sight on his lap. Despite that, he couldn't help rubbing himself through his pants, still unzipped. He could feel the teeth of the zipper, smooth, hard little bumps. He thought of Daniel's teeth and his hips jerked forward again, a shiver tightening the skin of his back and arms.
Stretching his neck and peering ahead, as if knowing what the delay was would help, Jack succeeded only in seeing more of the flashing orange lights. He groaned and glanced briefly down at his lap. He didn't want to see his dick. If it looked even half as painful as it felt, it wasn't going to be a pleasant view.
It took Jack fifteen minutes to get through the construction traffic and in his front door. He slammed it behind him, leaned against it, and dropped his pants. He had slimmed down during his time in the cell, and they slithered obediently down his hips, pooling around his ankles. His underwear followed, and then he could finally finish the job that all his covert rubbing in the truck had started.
Twenty minutes later, he was still trying. Despite the fact that he could no longer see the flashing lights, the conditioned response was still going strong, and his own hand wasn't enough. But of course it wasn't, because he hadn't been trained to need an orgasm. He had been trained to need Daniel.
Jack was sprawled on the couch, his numb hand still loosely wrapped around the base of his dick, which showed no signs of faltering. His pants were in a sad little pile on the floor nearby, with his underwear still inside. His shirt was hanging open, sweat beaded on his forehead and slipping down his chest.
That was the scene that Daniel walked in on.
He shoved the door shut behind him, already intent on Jack. Jack watched him approach through glazed, half-lidded eyes and thought he should make some kind of comment about knocking and the lack thereof, but he was too focused on Daniel's mouth. That lovely, clever mouth that was already opening.
Daniel dropped to his knees in front of Jack. "Did you knew there's construction on the way to your house?" he asked.
"I'd noticed," Jack said, and then he gasped and arched his back. "Ohgod, Daniel..."
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jack noticed that he had used Daniel's name, something he had never done before. But it was a small step, a tiny step on a long journey, and really, what was one more step?
Afterward, Jack was sitting on the floor, his back against the couch, legs draped haphazardly over Daniel's. Daniel was lying on the floor, one arm slung across his eyes, his chest still rising and falling fast. He had pulled his pants back up, but hadn't bothered zipping or buttoning. Jack was wearing his shirt, and nothing else.
"I actually came over to talk," Daniel said, when he felt a little more coherent.
"If that's how you talk, you must be a hit at cocktail parties."
Daniel snorted and lifted his arm, peering down at Jack. He could see Jack's penis, lying spent on his thigh, and that was a new intimacy--post coital almost naked Jack. In the cell, they would both pull their underwear or pants back up immediately afterward, but this time, Jack wasn't wearing any. Daniel could see his chest, the line of his sternum, but because of the shirt and his awkward angle, he couldn't see Jack's nipples. He wasn't particularly surprised to find that he wanted to see them. He wanted to feel them, to roll them between his fingertips and see how Jack reacted, what sounds he made. He wanted to feel them harden and grow slick in his mouth.
"We may have a problem."
Jack lifted one eyelid, decided it required too much effort, and shut it again. "Ya think?"
"Well, getting through that road construction next time you leave the house isn't going to be easy," Daniel said pointedly. He propped his elbows behind him and lifted his head off the floor, regarding Jack, who was still flopped against the couch, his eyes closed and his mouth open.
"Leaving the house is overrated," Jack replied.
"I somehow doubt your groceries have survived the last couple months."
"I'll get takeout delivered."
Daniel rolled his eyes. "Jack."
Grumbling, Jack sat up straight and rubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah, okay. But what do you want me to do? Petition the city to stop all road construction because flashing lights make me want to jump my archeologist?"
"The effects of our conditioning shouldn't last forever," Daniel reasoned. "If we can just avoid the stimuli until the training wears off, we'll be all right."
Jack closed his eyes again and waved a hand in Daniel's direction. "There you go, then. Problem solved."
"Not quite."
"Oh, here we go," Jack muttered. "You couldn't leave it alone, could you?"
"Is that what you want to do? Ignore what was said? Forget it?" Daniel rose to his feet, buttoning his pants. Jack cast a weary glance at him, at his folded arms and closed, carefully neutral expression, and sighed heavily.
"Is that not an option?" Jack asked. He reached a leg out and snagged his pants with his toes, drawing them closer. His underwear was sticky with drying pre-come, and he wrinkled his nose at it and decided to go commando. He dragged himself to his feet and skimmed his pants up over bare hips, zipping carefully.
"Do you want it to be an option?" Daniel's voice was measured, deliberate.
Jack shrugged. "It would make things simpler."
Daniel wasn't meeting his eyes. He nodded, once, a small, I-should-have-known smile on his face. Jack tried to place why this felt familiar, and then remembered his undercover mission for the Tollan, lying to Daniel in this house, telling him they had no foundation. Daniel had that same look on his face now.
"Dammit, Daniel."
"What?"
"You're not going to let me make this simple, are you."
Daniel raised his eyebrows, blinking in his exaggerated 'excuse me?' way. "I didn't say anything."
Jack snorted. "You didn't have to."
Daniel stared at him for a long moment, his mouth slightly open, his eyes revealing more than he wanted them to. Then his mouth snapped shut, his expression went carefully empty, and he turned on his heel.
He was halfway out the door when Jack caught up to him and yanked him back, shutting the door and standing against it, cutting off Daniel's escape.
"I'm leaving, Jack," Daniel said flatly. He wouldn't look at Jack.
"No, you're not."
"Yes. I am."
"Not."
Daniel gave a sigh that was almost like a growl, and his eyes finally snapped onto Jack's, hard, flashing. Deep water, Jack thought, and even though there were no lights, no clicky noises, he felt a low surge of arousal.
"You've made your decision." Daniel's voice was toneless. "I'm not going to beg."
Jack allowed his desire to show on his face, if only for a moment. "Wouldn't be the first time," he said.
Daniel blinked at him, drawing his eyebrows down. "What?"
"Wouldn't be the first time you begged me."
"As I recall, Colonel," Daniel leaned forward, licked his lips, swept Jack up and down with his eyes, "I wasn't the only one."
Jack wondered if there was something seriously wrong with his head that made him get turned on when Daniel called him Colonel. After all, everyone called him Colonel. Why should it matter when Daniel did it?
But of course, that was the point, wasn't it? Daniel didn't call him that. Daniel was the only one who was his true equal. Maybe that was why this was inevitable. How could it be anyone else?
"Call me Jack," he said, giving Daniel a daffy grin. "And you're not leaving."
The small spark of amusement in Daniel's eyes died abruptly. "Clever, Jack. Very good distraction technique. Certainly a sound tactical move. But then, that's what you're good at, isn't it?"
Jack felt himself losing control of the situation and quickly tried another tack. "Maybe you've forgotten the road construction? How are you going to got through that without getting all... conditioned again?"
"Something tells me I won't have any trouble not wanting you this time." And Daniel turned to go, his shoulders hunched and his head down.
Jack let the door open two inches before planting his palm against it and slamming it shut again. "So you're giving up?" he asked, all the teasing and humor gone from his voice. His usual tricks, charm and sarcasm, weren't working. It was time for the last resort--honesty.
Daniel turned slowly, gave Jack an unreadable look. "What do you want me to do?" he asked. "Cry and plead with you to give me a chance? Argue all the reasons why we should be together? If you're so certain that all you want to do was forget it, pretend it never happened, then... then..." Daniel shook his head, threw his hands up in the air. "I shouldn't have to force you, Jack. That's what it's always been about, you being forced. You kidding yourself that you had no choice, that you didn't want it. Well, I'm not going to twist your arm. Either you want this, or you don't. You're going to have to decide."
"Now, see, that doesn't make sense. That's a cop out," Jack retorted. His hands were on either side of Daniel now, pressed against the door, bracketing Daniel in. He leaned forward, closing their bodies together, his head tilted down just enough to look Daniel directly in the eye. "I have never known you to back down when you want something. You are one stubborn son of a bitch, and you never quit. What, I'm not worth fighting for?"
Daniel brought his hands up and grasped Jack's wrists, clutching them tightly, widening his eyes for emphasis. "What do you think I'm doing? Why do you think I haven't left? I'm making you decide, making you admit what you want, what you've always wanted, because I'm not fighting for you, Jack. I'm fighting for us."
Jack blinked, pulled back slightly, and a slow smile formed on his face. "Wow, Daniel. You could write song lyrics."
A bark of startled laughter escaped Daniel before he could fight it back, and he let out a long breath. "Jack..." He shook his head. "Can't you ever stop? Can't you take this seriously?"
"I am. I just..." Jack shrugged and spread his hands, his lips tilting into a sideways smile. "I'm really bad at this."
"I've noticed that about you."
Jack didn't really know what he was doing, but Daniel was still there, and he was smiling in a way that Jack could seriously get used to, so he figured he must be doing something right.
"We'd have to be careful," Jack said.
Daniel's smile got a lot wider, and he leaned in, allowing his forehead to touch Jack's for a moment. "I could do careful."
"Discreet."
"That too."
"No sex offworld."
"I think we may have already broken that one."
Jack laughed and opened his mouth for another rule, but Daniel captured it before he could speak. Jack was kissing him back before he remembered that he had never done that, kissed Daniel on the mouth. Other places, yes. He'd kissed Daniel's cock, his balls, and his belly. He had kissed the smooth place just behind the balls, where he could press his tongue and Daniel made this kind of moaning gasp that he would pay serious money to hear.
The mouth was new, though. Jack decided he liked the mouth a great deal, because it could kiss him back. Much more interactive. And of course, Daniel was good with his mouth, fascinating and compelling and powerful.
This was the mouth that had explained the stargate to a room full of Generals and opened up the universe. The mouth that had brokered hundreds of touchy meetings with aliens both friendly and otherwise. The mouth that said crazy, brave, stupid things to Goa'ulds. The mouth that could communicate with anyone, anywhere, and win over everyone from sarcophagus-addicted princesses to teenage unas.
And it belonged to Jack now. It was his mouth.
"Mine," Jack growled, and bit Daniel's lower lip. Daniel grabbed his ass, yanked him close, and ground an impressive erection against his hip.
Jack loved it when Daniel spoke his language.