Title: Happiness
Author: Brenda
Author Page: Brenda
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Some tender lovin' care after a bad mission.
Category: ER; smarm
Spoilers: Set during S4; mention of Small Victories.
Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.
Previously appeared in the zine Pretense 1

TapTapTapTapTap...TapTapTap...TappityTapTap...

The sound of soft tapping had insinuated itself into his dream just moments before Jack left sleep and the wisps of the dream behind. Before he could identify the sound and before his sleep-befuddled brain could assess it as a threat or not, a scent touched his nostrils and he relaxed. He knew the scent of this place: home. Even more important, he knew the special scent that was nearby: a mixture of sandalwood, citrus shampoo and coffee. Daniel. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at the back of a bowed head of brown hair. It took him only moments to put the scene together.

He was stretched out on his sofa, and Daniel was sitting on the floor by his head, laptop on the coffee table along with piles of open books and papers. His hair was sticking up like it always did after he'd taken a shower and just ran his hand through it instead of bothering to comb it and he was wearing a tee shirt and sweat pants. The tappity tapping sound was Daniel working away on the laptop in the kind of insufficient light that wouldn't disturb his sleep but would guarantee a headache for his genius. He was about to open his mouth to announce that when he had a better idea. Taking aim at a spot on that exposed neck, Jack gently blew. A hand came up almost immediately and absently rubbed the spot. He waited a bit longer then blew again. Again the hand came up. This time Jack could read the annoyance in the set of Daniel's shoulders. One of his favorite games: Annoy the Archaeologist While He's Trying to Work and They Could Be Doing Fun Things Instead. One more should do it... He pursed his mouth and blew again.

"Damnit." This time Daniel slapped at his neck, and Jack couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped his lips. Daniel snapped around, the automatic irritation in his eyes immediately fading. Oh god, Jack's heart melted every time he saw the softness in Daniel's eyes that was only for him. "Hey." Pushing the coffee table away, Daniel turned around and rested a hand on Jack's arm. "You had a pretty good sleep. How're you feeling?"

Jack opened his mouth to reply, then grimaced as he realized he was aching all over. Fraiser's painkillers had obviously worn off while he was asleep and now all his bruises and strained muscles were making themselves known again. "Ouch," he replied.

Daniel's hand began sliding up and down Jack's arm comfortingly. "Let's get you to bed. We'll get some more of Janet's pills into you, and I'll give you a rubdown."

Jack raised an arm that felt as weak as a strand of limp spaghetti and managed to clumsily lay a hand on the side of Daniel's neck. "Only if you come with me," he said, trying to sound husky and sexy but only coming across as raspy from sleep.

Daniel grinned. "Good try, flyboy." Turning his head, he placed a kiss in the center of Jack's palm. "But I don't know what you think you're going to be able to get up to when you can barely move."

"I could let you do all the work," he said hopefully.

Daniel's look of open skepticism once again turned soft, and he leaned down and place a gentle kiss on Jack's lips. "Jack, you've had the crap beaten out of you. The only reason Janet let you out of the infirmary is that I made her certain promises. Besides which, there is no way we're making love when you're like this. Hearing you howl in pain is not my idea of fun."

Jack wondered briefly if he wheedled a bit more if he could get Daniel to change his mind, but he knew the stubborn set to that jaw all too well. To tell the truth, Daniel was right: he couldn't move a muscle without groaning in pain; that didn't exactly bode well for any activities in bed. "Fine," he said finally, sulking only a little. "Put me to bed, but you have to come too."

Daniel eased an arm under his back and brought him up slowly, wincing in sympathy as Jack bit back a groan. "I can't, Jack. I have to get this translation done tonight. If I can get it emailed in so SG-11 has it first thing tomorrow I won't have to go in. Then we can have the next two days to ourselves."

Well, that was a trade-off, Jack admitted grudgingly as Daniel got him to his feet. "You're not going to be all night are you?"

"Just a couple more hours."

"Then turn on some more lights down here and sit at the kitchen table, for cryin' out loud," he grumbled as Daniel steered him toward the stairs. "You'll ruin your eyes and your back leaning over like that."

"Yes, Jack," Daniel replied in that patient tone that told him Daniel was agreeing with him to stop the lecture and then was going to do whatever he wanted anyhow.

They stopped at the bottom of the stairs and Jack eyed them with dislike. He felt as old as he'd been on Argos when those nanites got into his system and he turned into the Ancient Mariner almost overnight. With a sigh, he raised his foot to take the first step.

After much grumbling, cursing and groaning by him, and what seemed like infinite patience on Daniel's part, he was finally lying on his stomach in his bed, covered with a sheet, while Daniel went to the bathroom to retrieve the massage oil. He'd been cajoled into taking two more of Fraiser's magic pills and he was feeling old, achy, grumpy and not very desirable. Jack pressed his face into his pillow and wondered not for the first time what a guy like Daniel saw in a guy like him. Daniel was young, smart - a genius, in fact - idealistic, and so damned good-looking he turned heads at the SGC and could have anyone he wanted. What did he see in a forty-something grey-haired soldier with bad knees and a worse sense of humor? He shivered as a kiss was placed gently between his shoulder blades, and turned his head as Daniel nuzzled behind his ear.

"You ready?"

He sighed, gazing into those blue eyes; eyes that could be hard as steel, shining with laughter, or soft with love. Right now they were soft and happy. That was one thing Jack did know he did better than anyone else: he made Daniel happy. "Well, if you must run your hands over my naked, oily body, then..." He let out a sigh of resignation... "go ahead."

"Oh, I must, I must," Daniel murmured, pulling back the sheet. Jack felt the sudden tension in the body next to his, and he quickly looked up, seeing the stony set of Daniel's face, the storm in his eyes, the slight tremble in his hands. He knew his back was a mess: bruises, most probably the undeniable outline of the broad strap that had been applied often and with gusto, and a few lines of Fraiser's neat stitches.

"Daniel." Reaching out, he gently patted the closest sweatpants clad knee. "Getting a little drafty here."

The other man took a quick breath and, avoiding Jack's gaze, poured some oil into his palm, then rubbed his hands together, warming it. "Sorry," he muttered, then leaned over and carefully applied his hands to Jack's back.

Jack relaxed into his touch. Daniel was obviously being over-careful, but the result was still wonderful. Daniel had great hands. He never tired of watching those hands - or feeling them on his skin. He'd seen those same hands delicately brush off a priceless artifact or wield a P90 with confidence. He'd seen a P90 in those hands when Daniel, Carter and Teal'c had burst into the god-forsaken cell where he'd been held. It had been Daniel out in front - a clear breach of protocol that he'd be talking to Carter and Teal'c about - his face a mixture of rage and anxiety, his P90 held ready to use on anyone who stood between him and the object of his search. If Jack had his way, Daniel would have never had to carry a P90 or even a handgun. If he had his way, Daniel could play archaeologist and linguist to his heart's content and never have to worry about guns or protecting his team or himself. But their lives weren't like that, so he had to console himself with the fact that Daniel had come to terms with carrying a gun and would do whatever it took to protect himself and his team mates. He moaned as Daniel's hands found a particularly sore spot. Daniel stopped immediately.

"You okay?"

"Do I have to put another quarter in?" he mumbled into his pillow. "Daniel, if you stop every time I say 'ow', we're going to be at this all night."

Daniel picked up where he left off, albeit a bit more gently. "I just don't want to hurt you," he said in a quiet voice.

Jack once again patted the knee nearest him. "You're not." The combination of the drugs in his system and Daniel's gentle massage had lulled him into a state of near sleep when he felt the bed dip and realized Daniel had climbed onto the bed, straddling his legs. "Got plans back there?" he asked hopefully, wide awake again.

"You wish. Just makes it easier from back here."

"Lots of things are easier from back there," Jack hinted.

"Are all Air Force colonels this horny?" Daniel asked with interest.

"I'm just saying..."

"I know exactly what you're saying, and the last thing we need is one more strained muscle to explain to Janet tomorrow." To soften his refusal, Daniel bent over and nuzzled Jack's lower back, sending pleasurable shivers down his spine. "When you're feeling better," he said huskily, "nothing is going to keep me from ravishing you, Colonel."

"Promises, promises, Doctor Jackson."

"Oh, you bet'cha. Now, why don't you relax and let those pills work." As he spoke, Daniel moved his hands down to cup and gently squeeze Jack's ass.

"Uhhh, Daniel..." Jack swallowed. "I don't remember having any strained muscles down there."

"Really?" Daniel 'hmmm'd' to himself. "Well, we can't be too careful, you know."

Warm hands kneaded his buttocks for a few moments more, then Jack felt soft lips place a kiss on each cheek before those talented hands moved down to his thighs. Then his knees. His swollen left knee received extra attention - oh blessed relief! Where did that boy learn to do that? By the time Daniel was working on his calves, Jack was limp, the painkillers coursing through his veins and his muscles responding to Daniel's deft touch. The last thing he remembered was Daniel gently pressing his thumbs into the arch of his foot...

***

The first soft snore brought a smile to Daniel's face, and he sat back on his knees, gazing at the long, lean body stretched out in front of him. Then his smile faded as he stared at the bruises and broad reddish stripes on Jack's back, new scars added to old ones, a road map of the mistreatment he'd suffered in service to his country. In service to his team.

Very carefully, Daniel slid off the bed and pulled up first the sheet, and then the comforter, carefully tucking it around the sleeping man, hiding the scars and the bruises. Then he quietly slid a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down. He wasn't ready to return to his translation just yet. That would wait. Instead he studied Jack's sleeping face; the lines of worry and responsibility etched there over years of service were softened now, and he was completely relaxed. No nightmares. Not yet anyhow. If there were, he would be here for him, holding him, soothing him, waking him in the safety of his arms.

Leaning over, he covered one lax hand with his, curling his fingers around it. Jack stirred, but didn't wake. Daniel felt the big callus in the palm of the hand, the one that spoke of years of using a weapon, and the other calluses on the tips of his fingers. These were deadly hands, hands that could kill in the blink of an eye, hands that could fashion a bomb from what anyone kept in their kitchen. But these were also the hands that could be unbearably gentle when they touched him and were incredibly talented in bringing him pleasure. He'd watched these same hands field strip a P90, finger a chess piece in contemplation of a move, fell an enemy with one well-placed blow, cast out a line in his never-ending quest for a catch-of-the-day, and touch him in places no man had ever touched him before. Strong hands. Deadly hands. Gentle hands. A man of many parts, his colonel.

Daniel sat back a little, Jack's hand still a captive, and wondered when it was he realized Jack made him happy. Not just happy, but gave him the kind of soul-deep contentment that made him happier than he'd ever been before in his life. He didn't know quite when he realized that. There was no blinding white light or anything - might have been easier if there had been - but he did know when he thought he'd lost Jack in that sub, something died inside of him; and when he knew Jack was alive, something new was born. Of course, he didn't have a name to put to it, and he certainly didn't know Jack felt the same. That didn't come until later. He grinned as he remembered what a revelation that was - for both of them.

His grin faded as he took in the fresh bruises on Jack's face and remembered the ones on his body. He thought he'd lost him again this time. He'd lost a lot of people in his life, but he knew if he lost Jack, it would be his last loss. He didn't think the universe should expect him to survive that.

Carefully tucking the limp hand under the cover, he placed a light kiss in the silver hair. This time Jack mumbled, "Dan'l," and groped until he located Daniel's arm. "Come to bed."

"In a little while."

Sleepy brown eyes regarded him seriously. "Don't work too late."

"I won't."

"Use plenty of light."

"I will."

The hand released his arm and found its way behind his neck. "Love you," Jack murmured sleepily, pulling him down into a kiss that ended in a yawn. Daniel could only stare in amazement as Jack's head dropped back onto the pillow and a soft snore escaped his mouth.

Giving his head a shake, he let his fingers lightly brush the textured silver hair before turning off the bedside light. "Love you too, soldier boy," he whispered, and left the room.

The End