Title: Show Me the Way to Go Home
Author: Brenda
Author Page: Brenda
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jack brings home a pair of old Air Force buddies for a night of fun and drinking and then has to deal with the fall-out the next day.
Category: ER; smarm; angst.
Spoilers: Set during S4. S2, S3, S4spoilers. Specific mention of: The Light, Into the Fire, Fire and Water, Serpent's Lair, Devil you Know, Jolinar's Memories, One Hundred Days, The Other Side, Tangent and Forever in a Day.
Timed out from the zine Pretense II.
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 anywhere without the consent of the authors.

Stretched out on the comfortable sofa, Daniel Jackson flexed his bare feet, enjoying the feel of the textured material against them, and settled his book comfortably on his chest. There was utter silence in the house. There was always utter silence in this house when Jack wasn't around. Just as there was never silence in the house when Jack was around

He dropped the book to his chest and leaned his head back against the sofa arm, closing his eyes with a little smile. Jack could be utterly still and deadly silent when it mattered on a mission, but at home he was always in motion in some way or another, always displacing the air around them, always making his presence felt. Not that that was a bad thing. It was in fact one of the things Daniel loved most about being in Jack's house - the presence of Jack. If he was hunched over a book, trying to get some work or reading done, there was always a sound in the background to signal the other man's presence: the padding of stockinged feet on the floor as Jack went for another beer; the buzz of the television in the background as Jack determinedly flicked his way through one hundred fifty-nine cable channels, barely stopping on one long enough to identify the program; the distant soft tuneless whistle as he put clothes in the washer or the clink of glass as he made another pot of coffee because he knew Daniel would want some.

There would be tactile reminders that he wasn't alone as well. A whisper of air brushing him as Jack walked by. A hand playfully tousling his hair. A hand not-so-playfully sneaking up his thigh. A pair of warm lips nuzzling the back of his neck while a pair of strong arms encircled him from behind.

Sighing softly, Daniel wriggled a little deeper into the sofa, enjoying the memories. There were a lot of good memories for him here at Jack's place. Maybe that was one of the reasons they always seemed to end up back here when they had some down time. Jack's place felt like home to him. It had been a safe place for him ever since he'd come back from Abydos and Jack had brought him home, fed him, lent him clothes, and gave him a place to sleep at a time when he had no home, no clothes, no food and no place to go. It had come to mean safety to him, much as Jack himself did. His apartment, on the other hand, had never really been more to him than a place to house his rapidly growing collection of artifacts and books and a place to sleep and change clothes. His place didn't really have any particularly good memories, and it had at least one memory he would rather forget, thank you very much; he still wasn't able to walk out on his balcony without experiencing a brief stab of déjà vu.

Blinking his eyes open, he picked up his book again. He really should take advantage of the quiet and lack of interruptions and get some reading done. After all, it wasn't often he could finish a chapter of anything without Jack dropping down beside him and doing a little peaceful exploring that usually ended with them on the rug in front of the fire, the bed - or, on one memorable occasion - the stairs when they didn't quite make it upstairs. Another nice memory to add to his growing pile. But he really should try to get some reading done. It wasn't everyday Jack had a night out with some old Air Force buddies, and he should take advantage of it. Jack had said he'd be late and not to wait up, but Daniel knew from the way he'd said it he really hoped Daniel would be awake. Of course, if Jack was in the same condition he was in the last time he came back from a night out with some old military buddies he wasn't going to be in shape for anything except falling into bed and snoring the night away. Which meant he might as well get comfortable on the couch because no way in hell was he spending the night in bed with a Jack who was snoring and mumbling his way toward a hangover the next morning.

He'd barely read another two pages when the flash of headlights through the curtains brought his head up. Home already? He grinned to himself. Maybe he wouldn't have to spend the night on the sofa after all. But his grin faded when he heard the thuds of three car doors slamming shut. Company? He started to get off the couch, then heard the scratch of the key in the lock. Or rather the continuing scratch of the key all over the door from the sound of it. Either there was a dog outside desperate to get in, or Jack was having a little trouble with his aim. Rolling his eyes, Daniel put his book aside and padded over to the door, unlocking it from inside and throwing it open.

He nearly got a hole poked into his stomach as Jack jammed the key at where the lock had been a second before.

"Oh. Where'd it…?" Jack stared down at the bare feet in front of him, then raised his head, blinking owlishly. "Must've been using the wrong key," he explained, holding it up accusingly. "Door wouldn't open."

Daniel opened his mouth to tell him it was the right key but his aim left a lot to be desired when he realized Jack wasn't alone. On either side of him, grinning foolishly, were two men, both around Jack's age, both very much in shape, both apparently a bit drunk. Over their shoulders he could see a cab backing out into the street. Oh wonderful. Three drunken soldiers.

"Hey, Dannyboy!" Jack's voice was unnaturally loud and cheerful, and Daniel winced as the man patted him clumsily on the chest and pushed past him, waving in the other two. "You still up?"

"Yes, I was, um --"

"You got a roommate, Jack?" asked Soldier Number One as he walked past Daniel. His hair was as grey as Jack's, but that's where the resemblance ended. Piercing blue eyes that were a little cloudy from drink stared at him from under bushy eyebrows, and his voice had a definite Deep Southern accent. He was as thickset as Jack was wiry, but it was all muscle.

"Or is he the maid?" laughed Soldier Number Two, the tallest of the three, his light hair buzzed all over, and his face a little red, also from drink, Daniel imagined. He closed the door behind them with a little sigh. Oh this was going to be fun.

"Maid?" Jack snorted. "On a colonel's salary? Nah, Daniel's just…" He fumbled a little, then continued with a dismissive wave of his hand, "a friend. I work with him. His apartment's being painted, so he's over here for a couple of days, that's all." Daniel looked at him steadily but didn't say anything, trying not to be hurt by the off-hand introduction. Well, what did he expect Jack to say? If Jack noticed his silence it wasn't apparent as he slung an arm sloppily around each man's shoulders. "Doctor Daniel Jackson, this is Colonel Matt Hanson" - Soldier Number One - "and Major Craig MacMahon, two of the best damn pilots in the US Air Force."

Three drunken flyboys in one small room. No, this wasn't going to be pretty.

"Doctor?" Hanson turned to Jack but thumbed in Daniel's direction. "He's a doctor?"

"Of archaeology," Daniel explained quietly and started edging toward the stairs. "It's nice to meet you both. Jack, I think I'll just turn in…"

"Archaeology?" MacMahon gave a little snort. "You mean you dig up bones?"

"He's a civilian," Jack said, as if that explained everything. "And he's very good at digging up bones, aren't you, Dannyboy?"

Daniel felt his jaw clench. "As a matter of fact, I am," he said coolly. "And now, I really am going to turn in --"

"Wait a minute." Jack fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "They kind of asked us to leave the bar just when we were startin' to have a good time."

Oh, I'll bet, thought Daniel.

"Don't have enough beer in." He pulled out a bill and waved it at Daniel. "Be a pal and go out and get us a couple'a six packs."

His book still clutched in his hand, Daniel wrapped his arms around his chest. "Don't you think you've had enough to drink?" he asked cautiously. "Maybe I should make you some coffee instead."

There was a moment of complete silence, then the two men flanking Jack burst into laughter. "That sounds like something my wife would say," MacMahon hooted.

Hanson leaned over and whispered loudly, "Yeah, Jack, are you sure Dannyboy here is just a friend? Don't ask, don't tell, right?"

That set them off again into gales of laughter. Jack, however, didn't join in. His narrowed eyes locked on Daniel's, and Daniel found himself tightening his arms around himself. Okay, that remark about having enough to drink was probably uncalled for. Not only had it embarrassed Jack in front of his friends, but it gave them ammunition for some drunken teasing about a subject neither one of them wanted to be teased about. They were both obsessively discreet about their relationship, and although these two drunken morons were yukking it up, 'don't ask don't tell' was no laughing matter in the military. If Jack wanted to get drunk in his own house, who was he to say anything about it? Besides, it was certainly better than having him get drunk in some bar. At least they all had enough sense to take a cab here. Abruptly, he reached out and took the bill from Jack's hand. "Sure. Glad to," he said with a tight smile. "What are friends for." Before he turned away he saw Jack relax a fraction and offer him a small, grateful smile.

"Told you he was a pal," Jack said loudly, and gave him a hearty clap on the arm.

Without saying a word, Daniel snatched his shoes from beside the couch and walked out of the room, hearing someone say something amid the laughter about well-trained civilians being taught to fetch.

***

He had cooled off by the time he made the trip to the nearest convenience store, bought the beer, and returned home. He wasn't about to spoil Jack's night with old friends; if they wanted to get drunk and tell stories about the good ol' days, they had every right to do that. Just like he had every right to leave them to it.

He grimaced as he got out of his car, realizing he couldn't just go to the bedroom and go to sleep. If one of those jarheads - no, wait, Jack was always telling him those were the Marines, not Air force - took a wrong turn in looking for the bathroom and found him in Jack's bed… He gave a shudder. No, he couldn't take the chance. That left the guest bedroom, except it wasn't a bedroom, it was a storage room with a bare twin-size mattress and a roomful of boxes and his books. Well, at least it did have a mattress. He could bed down there; he'd slept on worse. In the morning they'd be gone - please god! - and Jack would be nursing a hangover, but at least they'd be alone again.

He opened the door to the sound of loud laughter. MacMahon was standing in the middle of the living room, apparently telling some improbable story, complete with expressive hand gestures, and Jack and Hanson were rolling with laughter.

When he could catch his breath, Jack accused, "Mac, every time you tell that story the number of East Germans jumps by at least a dozen."

"Who was there, Jack, you or me?" MacMahon grinned as he waved an empty beer bottle.

"Hey, the beer's here," Hanson called out, lurching unsteadily to his feet.

Yes, just what you need, Daniel thought, more alcohol. He led the way into the kitchen, hearing the three following noisily. After setting the six packs on the counter, he began to edge out of the doorway, hoping to make a clean getaway. But just when he'd almost made it, a hand grabbed his arm, tugging him back.

"Aren't you going to join us, Doctor --?" Hanson looked at Jack. "What was his --?"

"Dannyboy," MacMahon supplied helpfully.

"That's right." Hanson thrust a beer bottle at Daniel. "Have a beer with us, Doctor Dannyboy."

Daniel shot a dark look at Jack, who was sniggering behind his hand. No help there. And they apparently weren't going to allow him to retire gracefully just yet. "Sure," he agreed unenthusiastically. But as he reluctantly reached for the bottle, Hanson yanked it out of his reach.

"Wait a minute. You sure he's old enough to drink, Jack? He still looks a little wet behind the ears."

As the three officers laughed at Hanson's razor-sharp wit, Daniel took the bottle and turned away, muttering under his breath, "I'm old enough for a lot of things you couldn't begin to imagine, Colonel Peabrain."

The next hour was a test of Daniel's patience and tolerance. Every time he tried to leave the happy little group, another beer was shoved at him, and MacMahon and Hanson made such a big deal out of him not wanting to socialize with them that he ended up staying right where he was. At least he was nursing his beers to the point where he was only on his third. So while he was still completely sober - it might have been smarter to get drunk, he realized belatedly - the other three were feeling no pain.

It was easy enough to tune out MacMahon and Hanson. They were simply annoying, obnoxious strangers, and Daniel had had plenty of practice tuning out annoying and obnoxious people in his life. But it wasn't possible to tune out Jack. Jack wasn't a stranger, but he was acting like a stranger, and that was a difficult thing for him to watch. It wasn't like Jack was being patronizing or anything; in fact, Daniel thought Jack was so wrapped up in swapping stories with his two buddies that he wasn't even aware Daniel was still in the room most of the time. Or perhaps he was trying very hard not to be aware of him. Daniel had spent a lot of time thinking about that possibility. He was sure if MacMahon and Hanson were sober enough to give it any kind of thought they would have to wonder how a guy like Colonel Jack O'Neill was friends with a geek like Doctor Dannyboy. Jack probably thought the less attention paid to Daniel the better. Well, that was fine, except every time he moved an inch, someone noticed him and tried to press another beer on him. So he was trapped here in this chair.

Still...it wasn't a very good feeling being someone who was being ignored for the greater good, even if that greater good was their relationship. Or perhaps the greater good was Jack's reputation. If Daniel could have smacked himself for having that thought he would have. But it was too late. It had taken root in his mind and refused to leave. Daniel took another sip of beer and studied Jack covertly. This was a Jack he didn't really know. He and Jack had never had the kind of barracks buddies relationship Jack obviously had with these two; the kind of relationship where you went out and got drunk to have a good time, told dirty stories, lied about your sexual conquests, and generally slapped each other on the back a lot. When he and Jack got drunk together it was usually for a very good reason: Sha're being abducted; Hathor; Hathor again; Sha're's funeral. They drank to blunt the memories. When they celebrated, as they had after his return from Nem's world, coming back from Aphophis' ship alive, escaping from hell, getting Jack back from Eurdora, getting Jack and Teal'c back alive from an out-of-control death glider, they did it sober so they could enjoy every moment of it. Even before he and Jack had entered this new, deeper phase of their relationship, they had never sat around telling dirty jokes or talking about sex. They had spent plenty of evenings together, but they were spent at sporting events, or in front of the TV with pizza and beer or playing long games of chess. Not that there was anything wrong with Jack's friendship with MacMahon and Hanson; it was just that he and Jack had never had that kind of friendship. This seemed to be the kind of friendship he had had with Kawalsky: very macho buddy-buddy. Daniel supposed he just wasn't the macho buddy-buddy type. Now there's a shocker.

So, basically, he was getting a glimpse into a part of Jack's life that was outside his own sphere of knowledge and influence. Ouch. He'd come to think of himself as involved in all aspects of Jack's life as Jack was in his, but apparently not. There was still a part of Jack's life he really wasn't involved in, and perhaps he wasn't really welcome there either. He took a longer, deeper pull of his beer. Jack hadn't said that or inferred it, he reminded himself. He was drawing perhaps totally erroneous conclusions based on Jack getting drunk with two old AF buddies. That was a pretty big leap, even for the guy who put forth the theory that the pyramids were ten thousand years older than the entire scientific community believed.

What it came down to was that he wished he didn't feel so damned uncomfortable and out of place somewhere he thought of as home.

As he continued to brood over that and work his way through his third beer, he tuned in again as Jack was asking, "Have you heard anything from Jerry Stansky recently? I've been out of the loop, and..." When he saw the other two officers looking at one another, he asked, "What? Something happen to Stan?"

MacMahon snorted. "You have been out of the loop, Jack. Stansky's a civilian now. Took early retirement."

"What? Not a chance," Jack scoffed. "You must've got some bad intel. There's no way Stan would've taken early retirement."

"Not like he had a choice." Hanson put his index finger to the side of his nose and tapped. "Don't ask, don't tell," he whispered loudly.

Jack looked confused for a moment, then lowered his head. "Shit," he hissed.

Jack looked so upset that Daniel automatically sat forward in his chair. "What? What happened?"

The silver head shot up and Jack waved dismissively. "Nothing. It's a military thing. You wouldn't understand."

Daniel's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I think I might," he said softly. In fact, he was sure he did.

"He got caught getting out of the wrong bed," MacMahon spoke up, then gave his head a shake. "Stupid bastard. All those years - the man had been a damn hero; hell, he pulled my ass out of the fire in Iran - and now all that's down the drain. Stupid bastard," he repeated.

Daniel kept his voice even and precise. "So, just to clarify..." He was aware of Jack's eyes burning a hole in his chest, but he kept his own gaze on the other two soldiers. "This man was a hero, risked his life for his country, gave years of service, and the Air Force forced him to retire because of his sexual preference?" Daniel had to push down the anger in his tone. "Whatever happened to don't ask, don't tell - which you're all so fond of bringing up?"

Hanson snorted as he got up to walk an uneven line to the kitchen for another beer. "It's don't ask, don't tell, don't get caught. Stansky got caught. He paid the price."

Daniel's gaze tracked the thickset man as he walked back to the sofa with another beer. "And you're okay with that?"

Hanson shrugged. "He knew the rules."

"Well, they're stupid rules," Daniel ground out.

"They're the rules." Daniel's head shot around at the sound of Jack's flat voice. Jack was staring at the beer bottle trapped between his palms, steadfastly refusing to look up. "He knew it going in."

"Just because they're rules doesn't make them right."

Jack did look up then, his face set in stone. "You don't get to choose which rules you obey and which you don't, Daniel," he said, a sharp edge to his tone. "When you sign on, you pledge to obey all the rules, whether you like them or not." His mouth tightening, he added pointedly, "People who aren't prepared to follow orders don't belong in the military."

There was a beep going off in the back of Daniel's mind: Warning, warning, warning. They shouldn't be having this conversation. Not here, not now, and not in front of these two. "I certainly have to agree with you there," he said coolly.

"Sounds like somebody's having trouble keeping this puppy on a leash," Hanson drawled.

Jack's hard gaze never wavered as he stared across the room at Daniel. "Oh, Dannyboy here has to make a moral judgment over every order before he decides whether to follow it or not."

They definitely shouldn't be having this conversation right now. "Being in the military doesn't absolve you from morality or knowing right from wrong," he said steadily. "Just like sexual preference doesn't negate the things a man has done with his life." He turned his gaze on MacMahon, "Such as saving your ass in Iran." Oh damn. Maybe he wasn't as sober as he thought he was.

If possible, MacMahon's face turned an even deeper shade of red, and he jabbed a finger at Daniel. "You don't have the right to talk about things you don't understand, boy," he snarled.

"I understand prejudice," Daniel continued stubbornly. "And I understand closed minds and --"

"Daniel." The harshness of Jack's voice stopped Daniel mid-sentence. "That's enough." When he was sure he had Daniel's complete attention he continued bitingly, "When we want your learned and enlightened opinion on the military, we'll be sure to ask for it."

Right. And until then I'll just hold my breath. Very carefully, Daniel sat his bottle aside and got to his feet. "I think it's time I turned in."

As he climbed the stairs he heard Hanson demand, "Jesus, Jack, where in the hell did you find that little shithead?"

He didn't wait around to hear the reply.

Daniel let himself into the spare room, flicked on the overhead light, then flicked it off again. Once he laid down he'd just have to get up to turn it off again. Making his way across the dark room by memory, he stopped when his legs bumped into the bed, then turned around and let himself down carefully on to the bare mattress. Not bothering to undress, he kicked off his shoes, tucked his glasses carefully inside one shoe so he didn't accidentally step on them, loosened his belt, and dropped back. God, what a mess. What the hell had he been thinking to make remarks like that to three drunken career military officers? He threw his arm over his eyes, struggling to come to terms with his tangle of emotions.

Yes, he resented the fact that Jack brought those two drunken yahoos into their private space, but the fact remained he had no right to object or resent it. This was Jack's house and they were Jack's friends, and he had a right to bring anyone he wanted here. What bothered him the most, though, was seeing Jack like...that. While he and Jack had their differences, their personal squabbles usually consisted of grumbling or a few wicked one-liners. It was actually only on the job that they had any real differences. Jack was acting tonight like he'd acted on Euronda. Daniel didn't recognize Jack then, either. That closed-minded, arrogant, dismissive prick of a soldier wasn't the man Daniel had come to respect, admire - and love. Oh there was some of that in Jack, of course, just as there were some less than desirable traits in himself as well; but it was like that Jack had tramped down the honorable, savvy, perceptive part of himself and allowed only GI Jack out to play. It was only later that Daniel found out just how much pressure Jack and General Hammond had been under to produce some useful technology. He could understand the pressure they must have felt, but that didn't negate their moral responsibility. Just like the good a man did in the service of his country wasn't wiped out by the fact he chose a sexual partner of the same gender.

"God, I hate the military."

And right now he wasn't too fond of Jack either.

Sitting up, he fumbled at the bottom of the bed until he located the afghan tossed there, pulled it up over himself and determinedly closed his eyes. He'd had enough of this day.

***

Daniel was awake long before sunrise, not that he had gotten much sleep during the night. He'd heard the slam of car doors not long after he'd come upstairs, so apparently the party had broken up soon thereafter. He'd listened for Jack's footsteps, but never heard them, so apparently Jack decided to sleep downstairs rather than risk the stairs in his condition. Probably a smart move.

Rolling over, Daniel swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a few moments, bleakly considering the day ahead. It didn't take him long to come to a decision.

Showered, shaved and dressed in fresh clothes, thanks to the fact half his wardrobe was in Jack's closet, Daniel quietly made his way downstairs. As he thought, Jack was sprawled on the sofa, a blanket half on him, half on the floor, snoring noisily. As Daniel stood in the living room taking in the beer bottles scattered around - plus the addition of the whiskey bottle and three shot glasses on the coffee table - the whole distasteful evening came back to him. If Jack chose to give himself a hangover, that was his business; but he needn't expect Daniel to stick around and suffer through it with him. Leaving a quick note the one place he was sure Jack would see it - by the coffee machine - Daniel quietly let himself out of the house.

*****

As the shaft of sunlight speared his closed lids, Jack groaned. Then he whimpered as the thunderous sound echoed through his pounding head. Slowly, he forced open eyelids that felt like they'd been glued shut and tentatively moved a tongue that had mysteriously grown fur overnight. If only one of the usual symptoms of a hangover included amnesia. But no such luck. He remembered the whole evening with painful clarity.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled himself to a sitting position and grabbed his head with his hands. Oh fuck. This headache was nothing compared to the one Daniel was going to give him. Not that he didn't have it coming. He moaned softly, rubbing his temples. What in the hell possessed him to bring Mac and Hanson home with him last night? Bad judgment? Alcohol-induced stupidity? The overwhelming desire to add one more item to his ever-growing list of One Hundred and One Ways to Piss Off an Archaeologist? He gave his scalp a gentle massage, then raised his head, for the first time realizing how silent the house was. It was never quiet when Daniel was around. Even when he was reading or working there was the soft rustle of paper when he turned a page, the sound of a pen scratching against a pad of paper or the light tapping of laptop keys, and always the accompanying muttering as he argued with himself over a translation. Even when he was asleep there were sounds: the soft murmur of an unfamiliar language in an oh so familiar voice, the occasional sounds of distress as one nightmare or another intruded into Daniel's dreams, the rustling of sheets as he moved in his sleep.

The blanket puddled around his feet as he got his legs under him. Daniel was probably still asleep. Well, the best way he knew to begin making amends was to have a fresh pot of coffee waiting for him when he woke up. Even better, he could serve a big cup of coffee to him in bed. That should earn him some much needed points. That decided, he made his way to the kitchen.

He had the coffee pot in his hands before he saw the small piece of paper laying on the counter. With a sinking heart, he picked it up and read it: Jack, going back to my place. See you at work Tuesday. Daniel.

Jack dropped the note back onto the counter with a sigh. Tuesday? Let this thing between them fester for two days? Not a chance. Turning around, he leaned against the counter and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't help sometimes comparing his marriage with Sara to his relationship with Daniel. It wasn't like he considered Daniel the 'wife' of this relationship, but his marriage to Sara was really the only other long-standing intimate relationship he'd ever had, and sometimes - just sometimes - he remembered something he'd learned during those years with Sara that helped him to not make the same mistakes again. Too bad last night wasn't one of those times. Sara had put up with him coming home drunk after his nights out, but he suspected that was more because it was 'expected' in their military circle for the wives to put up with such behavior from guys who routinely put their lives on the line for the country and went on missions they couldn't talk about even with their spouses. But it would have never occurred to him to bring a couple of drunken buddies home with him to continue the party there because... His eyes slid shut as realization hit. Because home was home. Just like this place was no longer only his place; it was Daniel's home too. He been warmed right down to his toes when Daniel began speaking of this place as 'home'. Now when he said 'let's go home', this was where he meant.

Oh, he had so fucked up.

The sudden chime of the doorbell made his head snap up and brought a surge of hope to his heart. But even as he was striding toward the front door he knew it wasn't Daniel, who had no need to ring the doorbell. He yanked a door open a little impatiently, then stood and stared in surprise at the woman standing on his doorstep.

"Good morning, Jack," Christa Svenson greeted, a touch of dryness in her tone. He and Daniel had met Christa and Jacob Svenson last New Year's Eve and had become friends with the older couple. Apparently Christa had taken one look at Jack and Daniel, deduced 'couple', and had treated them as such ever since.

"Um, good morning, Christa," he mumbled, uncomfortably aware of his unwashed, unshaven state next to his neighbor's impeccably groomed self. An evening gown or jeans and a sweater, it seemed to make no difference where Christa was concerned. She wore her seventy-three years with dignity and grace and could put a twenty-something to shame with her appearance. "I'm um..."

"A little worse for wear this morning?" Christa suggested kindly.

Then again, there were times when Christa could remind him a whole lot of Daniel. "Something like that." He cleared his throat, surreptitiously trying to straighten his shirt. "Look, Christa, this really isn't a good time. I need to go somewhere. I mean, Daniel's waiting for me. I mean, he went back to his place and --"

"He never made it there," she interrupted calmly.

The words registered in his fuzzy brain, but not her tone. He felt his heart give a sudden lurch. "Never made it? What --?"

"Oh, Jack, Jack, I'm sorry." Christa's hand was on his arm immediately. "I only meant he's over with Jacob."

"Oh. Well, geez." Jack rubbed a hand over his face. "Give a guy a heart attack why don't you?" But it was a half-hearted grumble, and she merely waited with the patience of a saint for him to once again give her his attention. "Look, I'm only running at half-speed this morning," he sighed finally. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"Jacob and I were coming back from our walk this morning when we saw Daniel going to his car. We stopped to talk with him." She paused for effect. "He seemed distressed. He hasn't told us what happened, but Jacob and I were up last night when your...friends left." Jack winced, remembering their noisy departure. She tilted her head and gave him a direct look. "Daniel said he was going back to his place for the remainder of his time off. I don't think he really wants to go. But I don't think he knows how to stay either."

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. "Think you can keep him over there a little longer while I get cleaned up?" he asked quietly.

Christa gave him an approving smile. "Jacob is talking Egyptology with him. I'm afraid Daniel's heart isn't in it, but the poor boy is much too polite to leave before answering all Jacob's questions." Her eyes sparked mischievously. "And Jacob has a lot of questions."

Jack didn't think Christa would appreciate a kiss on the cheek from him in his present state, so all he said was, "Bless you. I'll be over as soon as I get cleaned up."

"Better drink some water and take some aspirin for that headache while you're at it, dear," she advised, patting him on the arm before turning away and walking back toward her house.

Aspirin. Definitely aspirin.

It took him a little longer than a few minutes to get out the door, but he'd decided he needed to clean up the remnants of last night's gathering. When he finally walked up to Christa and Jacob's door, his living room and kitchen were clean and there was a fresh pot of coffee brewing. Not to mention he was looking and smelling a whole lot better. The headache was still pounding away behind his eyes, but it was going to take more than a shower and a couple of aspirin to get rid of that.

The door opened before he even had a chance to knock. "Just in time, Jack," Christa whispered. "I think Jacob is beginning to try even Daniel's infinite store of patience." As he stepped inside, Christa put a hand on his arm to stop him and gave him a sympathetic look. "You look almost as bad as Daniel," she observed softly. "Are you all right?"

All the time he'd been in the shower and cleaning up, he kept wondering how many of the mistakes he'd made with Sara he was doomed to repeat with Daniel. And in the end, would it have the same result? "I suck at relationships," he said bluntly, running a frustrated hand through his still damp hair.

"Of course you do, dear," she said serenely. "You're a man."

"Yeah, well, we have a few added complications," he said grimly.

"Your gender, the military, your jobs," she mused thoughtfully. Then she shook her head. "Those are excuses, Jack. If you want it to work, you make it work."

He made a face. "You make it sound so easy."

"There's nothing easy about it, even without your extra complications. But if your partner is worth it..." She raised one arched eyebrow at him and waited.

A slow grin tugged at Jack's lips. "Oh, he's definitely worth it. Listen, Christa, I don't think Daniel's just going to walk out of here with me because I ask him to."

"Nor do I," she murmured under her breath.

"So do you think you and Jacob could...ah..."

"We'll be taking a walk around the block. Now, come along before Jacob runs out of interesting questions."

Daniel and Jacob were in the Svenson's beautifully furnished living room. They were sitting on the sofa, both hunched over a large open book on the coffee table, and Daniel was pointing to something with one hand and gesturing animatedly with the other. Jack heard the name 'Budge' several times..

Christa swept into the room, pulling Jack in her wake. "Daniel, Jacob, look who's here."

Both heads bobbed up, but while Jacob offered him a knowing smile of welcome, Daniel's face was closed. As Jack watched he saw Daniel's eyes narrow in suspicion as he looked first at Jacob and then at Christa. But their neighbors only beamed back at him in total innocence, and after a few moments the skepticism faded from his eyes, and he merely looked confused and a little irritated. God bless the boy; he couldn't believe these two nice people would be so sneaky as to conspire to keep him here in order to reunite him with Jack. That was only one of the reasons Daniel needed him around, Jack thought fondly. He was happy to be the cynic in this relationship and look for ulterior motives; sometimes seeing those ulterior motives was what kept Daniel alive.

"Hey," he said hopefully, trying out a tentative smile.

"Jack." Clipped, impersonal, as if he could have been saying any old word. He returned his attention to the book and said loudly, "As I was saying, Jacob..."

Jacob and Jack exchanged rueful looks while Daniel continued to rant about Budge as if he'd never been interrupted. It was left to Christa to handle the situation. A gentle hand on Daniel's shoulder was all it took for him to stop and look up at her, blinking. "I'm going to borrow Jacob to help me in the kitchen." She looked over at Jack. "Just make yourself at home, Jack. We'll bring in some coffee and streusel."

Daniel started to get up. "I really should be going."

But Christa easily kept him seated. "But surely you can stay for a cup of coffee and some streusel, dear? We haven't had an opportunity to visit with you and Jack in weeks." It would have taken a man with a harder heart than Daniel possessed to refuse Christa an invitation like that. Still, he flicked a wary look at Jack before nodding in agreement. Patting his shoulder in approval, Christa gave them each a sweet smile, then collected Jacob and left the room.

Jack stood where he was for a moment, then took a deep breath and walked across the room to lower himself into the chair opposite Daniel. Daniel was determinedly scowling at the open book in front of him, although Jack was sure he wasn't even seeing what was on the page at this point. How did Christa describe him? Distressed. Oh yeah, that was definitely distressed. A mixture of pissed off, confused, hurt and uncertain. Damn, he wanted to wipe all that away, wanted to get back to that comfortable warmth between them; he wanted to see Daniel light up like a Christmas tree when he walked into the room, not withdraw into himself and away from him. Leaning forward, keeping his voice soft, he tried again. "Hey."

That earned him a guarded look from under those ridiculously long lashes. But after a moment Jack saw Daniel's stiff shoulders relax a fraction. "Hey."

Okay, it was a start. Jack had spent the entire time he'd been showering, shaving and cleaning trying to think of a way to start this conversation. But he was no closer to an answer now than he'd been when he was tossing the empty beer bottles into the trash. That realization made him rub his eyes in frustration. "God, I suck at this," he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

There was a little furrow between Daniel's eyes, the same type of expression he wore when trying to work his way through a particularly puzzling translation. An apropos description, Jack thought ruefully, in that they both seemed to be speaking different languages right now.

"I said," he continued carefully, "I don't want to fuck up with you the way I fucked up with Sara."

The other man unbent from his position over the book and gave him a level look, his face giving away nothing. "How did you fuck up with Sara?"

Jack massaged his temples, wishing the thumping in his head would ease up but knowing he wasn't going to be getting any sympathy from Daniel for his hangover. He wasn't sure he was up to taking on Doctor Jackson, Pissed off Linguist, when Daniel's choice of weapons would naturally be words, but they had to clear the air between them. And he needed to make sure Daniel understood some things. "Sara couldn't share in any part of my work," he explained, choosing his words with care. "For the entire time we were married, I couldn't tell her anything about any of my missions. I couldn't even tell her where I was going or when I'd be back. That's the way it is in special ops. Sara said she understood, and I think she did most of the time, but it wasn't easy on our marriage."

"We don't have that problem," Daniel pointed out in an even voice.

"No, we don't. We share the same dangers, we go on the same missions. In a lot of ways it makes it easier because we can understand what the other one is going through - most of the time."

Daniel made a little impatient gesture with one hand. "Okay, but I don't understand how this equates at all to how you and Sara --"

Jack held up an index finger, and Daniel clamped his mouth shut, but the look he gave Jack was downright dangerous. "The problem was, even though Sara didn't know or understand what I was doing or what I was going through, I still brought...shit home with me. It affected how I acted, how I thought, what I thought - and Sara didn't have any way of understanding that." He looked away for a moment. "And I didn't try to explain. I let that part of my life bleed into our life together, and I shouldn't have done that."

Daniel looked back down at the open book, an index finger unconsciously tracing a photo on one of the pages the way Jack had so often seen him trace hieroglyphs carved into stone. "We're pretty good about separating our work lives from our…private lives."

Jack knew that was true. He could recall any number of situations when he and Daniel had had fierce disagreements off-world, mostly when a military decision made by Jack clashed with what Daniel saw as a moral obligation. The only time work had ever really spilled over into their relationship with dire consequences was during the Asgard-Tollan-undercover-our-friendship-has-no-foundation affair. They'd eventually put that behind them, but not before Jack had sweated through a few bad weeks where he'd painstakingly tried to build up the trust between them once again. He wondered just how many chances he was going to be allowed to get it right.

"You have every right to bring home whoever you want, Jack," Daniel said quietly. "I'm the one who had no right to --" He broke off as Jack's hand shot out and grasped his wrist, stilling his hand. It was remarkably like the scenario on Euronda when he'd stopped Daniel from dialing home and apologized for his earlier actions. The expression on Daniel's face was almost identical to that moment as well: eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, surprise lighting his wary eyes.

"That's not true, Daniel, and I hope you know that." He turned his hand so his thumb could caress Daniel's palm. "I share more of myself with you than I ever shared with Sara. Part of that is because we work together and there are no secrets there. But a bigger part of that is because I'm a different man than I was when I was married to Sara, and a lot of that is due to you." Daniel didn't say anything, but at least he looked like he was listening. "Look, I know I had a 'right' to bring home two drunken Air Force buddies, but it wasn't the brightest thing I've ever done, and if I'd been a little more sober I never would have done it."

"Why not?"

Jack couldn't prevent the rueful smile tugging his lips. "You have to admit it wouldn't be easy explaining to two military buddies why I'm shacked up with a young, good-looking civilian." He gave the hand in his a little squeeze. "I swear to God, Daniel, I would never intentionally embarrass you like that."

"You didn't embarrass me," Daniel said quickly, then amended, "well, not much. But it was a little uncomfortable and…"

When he didn't continue, Jack encouraged, "And?"

Daniel raised his eyes, giving Jack a long look from under his lashes. Distress. It was still there in his eyes. "As you say, Jack, we've always been able to separate work from 'us'. Home was for 'us'. It was the place we didn't have to pretend," he said quietly. "I resented the fact that was taken away from us, even for one night."

There was nothing wrong with Daniel's aim when it came to words; he could put one right between the eyes when he wanted to. "I was an ass," Jack admitted readily. He couldn't have chosen two worse people to bring home into that situation if he'd tried: two macho, military, hetero types who'd known Jack for years. Good men, both of them, but definitely not the type to embrace or accept any relationship outside the norm. If they'd had so much of a sniff of anything going on between him and Daniel it would have flown through the Air Force rumor mill like an F-16. Jack had no desire to retire again at this point; he liked what he did too much to want to walk away from it, and he had an archaeologist to keep safe on those off-world jaunts Daniel loved so much. He knew Daniel only worried about discovery of their relationship because of him and his position in the military, and, if possible, Jack loved him even more because of that. "I'm sorry, Daniel. I brought a part of my life home that didn't belong there. You belong there." He gave the man across from him his best begging look, which wasn't hard under the circumstances. "Come home with me? Please."

Daniel once again dropped his gaze to the open book between them. Finally, he closed the book with his free hand and looked up at Jack with a tentative smile. "Well, they do say home is where the heart is."

Yes! If it weren't for the fact he knew his head would explode, Jack would have done cartwheels around the room. As it was he found himself staring into those blue eyes, mesmerized by the depth of feeling he saw there. "Then let's go home," he said softly.

"But what about Christa and Jacob. Won't they --?"

Jack shushed him by brushing his knuckles gently down the side of his jaw. "Christa and Jacob will understand." In fact Christa and Jacob would probably send over a bottle of champagne.

As soon as the door to Jack's house was closed behind them, Jack slipped his hand behind Daniel's head to cushion it, then backed him against the door. Slowly and deliberately he fitted his mouth over Daniel's and spent a very long time welcoming him back home. There was a time for fast and frenzied, and there was a time for slow and tender; this was definitely a time for the latter. You are so safe and so loved, Danny, and I'm going to make sure you know that.

When he finally pulled back, they were both gasping for breath, but Daniel's eyes were closed and he was already blindly reaching to pull Jack in for another kiss. Jack let Daniel set the pace, inviting that questing tongue into his own mouth for a little return exploring. This time when they broke apart, again breathless, Jack leaned in to nuzzle one of those perfect ears, something which produced a welcome wriggle against his body. "Welcome home," he murmured.

There was a soft explosion of warmth by his own ear as Daniel chuckled, "You sure you're up to this?" In answer, Jack shifted a bit, letting Daniel feel just how up he was. Daniel smiled a little dreamily as he massaged Jack's scalp, then leaned in to rub his smooth cheek against Jack's. "Then maybe we'd better move this celebration upstairs, Colonel," he whispered huskily.

"My thoughts exactly, Doctor Jackson."

They may have set a new land speed record getting upstairs and naked, but once they were in bed together Jack set out to slow things down. It wasn't that Jack wasn't more than eager, but he really did want to make this a sort of celebration, and he wanted to make it last. His body was still feeling the effects of way too much alcohol last night, and he doubted he'd be up to a repeat performance any time soon.

Daniel was wriggling determinedly underneath him, but Jack clamped his head gently between his hands and set about giving him something else to think about. Daniel loved kissing. Most people did, of course, but Daniel loved it. He started making appreciative little moans as soon as Jack began his oral assault and was soon fully engaged in every sense of the word. Kissing tended to make Daniel go all romantic and misty, and that was just what Jack was aiming for. He was trying to get two very important messages across: we're home now, and you never have to pretend here; you can scream the house down or go completely mushy, either is fine by me. And, the most important message of all: I love you so much it would shatter me into a billion pieces if anything ever happened to you.

Apparently Jack wasn't the only one trying to get a message across. Jack was on the receiving end of everything from tonsil-tickling kisses that sucked the breath right out of lungs to sweet, tender ones that left him breathless in a totally different way, to little nuzzles all over his face and neck. Oh yeah. Diversionary tactics in the field were never like this. But it was time to do something about the insistent hot poker nudging his thigh before Daniel got too desperate. Jack swooped down for one last, searing kiss, then while Daniel was still cross-eyed from that, worked his way down the smooth, muscled chest to the nest of curls down below. He took a moment to admire the view, then lowered his head and took Daniel into his mouth.

A firm grip on his thighs kept Daniel from coming off the bed, but Jack could see he'd thrown his head back into the pillow, and he was gripping handfuls of the sheet, his whole body quivering from the sudden sensory overload. "Oh god, Jack, oh god, oh god…"

There was more than a little proprietary pride in Jack as he licked, nibbled and sucked, bringing Daniel to the edge of orgasm time and again before backing off and starting again. No one else did this for Daniel except him. He was the one allowed into Daniel's life in this way, he was the one Daniel snuggled up against at night, the one Daniel spent evenings necking with in front of the fire, the only person allowed to love him in this way. He would not repeat the mistakes of the past, he promised himself, and he wouldn't come up with new ones either. He would not fuck up the happiness they had found with each other.

There was a string of what Jack was sure were Abydonian curse words, followed by a pleading, "God, Jack, please!"

Oh, that sounded pretty desperate. Without further ado, Jack gave it everything he had and turned Daniel inside out.

Minutes later Jack could still feel minute shock waves rippling through the man in his arms. As he looked down, dazed blue eyes were staring up at him. "Wow," Daniel whispered hoarsely.

The depth of love he saw in those eyes made Jack swallow. "You're pretty 'wow' yourself."

Rapidly regaining his strength, Daniel pulled out from the tight grip Jack had on him and leaned down to display why he was the best kisser Jack had ever met, bar none. When Jack was finally allowed to breathe, he felt a tube being pressed into his hand. "Your turn," Daniel murmured seductively against his lips. "Come on, soldier. Take me, I'm yours."

Christ! Jack felt his cock give a leap that almost brought him off the bed, and he glared into the laughing blue eyes inches from his own. "You are going to so pay for that," he warned.

Jack's lower lip was lightly bitten, then teased with a wet, pink tongue. "Promises, promises," came the husky whisper.

Performing a maneuver he'd practiced many times in this bed, Jack soon had one very content archaeologist trapped underneath him, gazing up at him in anticipation. He felt one foot lazily trailing up and down the back of his thigh, sending a shiver flashing down his spine.

"You waiting for an invitation?" Daniel asked innocently.

"Nope." Jack let his gaze roam from the face that was shining with happiness down the toned body and creamy skin of the man in his bed. "Just enjoying the view." That brought some color to those high cheekbones, and Jack just had to lean down and place a kiss right between the wide eyes. "Be right back," he murmured, then sat up and squeezed some gel into his hand.

The way Daniel was wriggling and moaning as he slipped the third finger in to prepare him was almost enough to bring Jack off, he was so close. Finally convinced Daniel was as prepared as he could be, Jack slid out his fingers and caught his breath as he looked at the man stretched out in front of him. His legs splayed wantonly, his arms flopped outstretched on the bed, his eyes shut, his lips kiss-swollen, Daniel was the very picture of 'fuck me senseless.'

He must have been staring a moment too long because Daniel opened his eyes, held out his arms and said softly, "Do it, Jack."

He needed no further invitation. Guiding himself, he eased inside Daniel, resisting the other man's urges to 'just do it, Jack!' One last, careful push and he was home. Arms and legs immediately wrapped around him to hold him in place, and Daniel hissed a triumphant, "Yes!" Where he had intended to take it slow and easy, Daniel apparently had other ideas. He gave a provocative wiggle, squeezed his muscles just so…and Jack was lost. They moved in unison, their bodies coming together in a perfect, driving rhythm. He heard those endearing little moans Daniel made every time they did this, felt Daniel's legs squeezing around him to try to force him deeper, and smelled Daniel's scent all around him. It was all too much; there was no way he could make this last. He came with an intensity that nearly blew his head off.

When he became aware of his surroundings the first impression he had was one of safety. He was being held in two strong arms, and his poor pounding head was being soothed with little kisses while sweet murmurings filled his ears. He tried to say Daniel's name, but it came out as a groan.

"Jack?" His head was gently deposited onto a pillow, and then Daniel slid down until his head was on the other and they could gaze at each other. Daniel's hand trailed up and down his arm and he smiled sweetly. "Hey."

Jack managed to raise an arm that felt like it was filled with lead and cupped the other man's cheek. "Hey yourself."

"You okay?" Daniel asked sympathetically. "I thought you'd died on me."

"It's just a headache. It'll go away…in a week or so."

Daniel began to push himself up. "I can get you some aspirin --"

But Jack slipped his hand to the back of Daniel's neck and held him fast. "Don't go," he whispered. "Stay with me? Please."

Daniel immediately laid back down and slid his leg between Jack's, anchoring them. In response, Jack draped a possessive arm over his ribs and edged him closer. Burrowing down a little deeper, Daniel nestled his head against Jack's chest and issued a deeply contented sigh before closing his eyes. "There's no place like home," he murmured, and pressed a sleepy kiss next to one nipple before dropping off to sleep almost immediately.

Home is where the heart is. That's what Daniel had said earlier. He knew where his heart was: held safe in his arms. Jack tightened his arm just that little bit more and closed his eyes, sliding into sleep with a smile on his face

~fin~