TITLE: Thanksgiving
AUTHOR: ELG
AUTHOR PAGE: ELG
CATEGORY: J/D slash ER
SPOILERS: S2 Secrets; References to events in S3; S4 Small Victories; Tangent
SEASON / SEQUEL: Post S4 Tangent
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Jack's stuck in Washington, Daniel's stuck at Cheyenne Mountain with flu, and it looks like there's little reason to give thanks.
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 author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

The trouble with Janet Fraiser was that she cared too damned much. Here it was, Thanksgiving. Everyone else in the country was home eating turkey, and she was giving herself more work because…well because she was Janet, and she always went that extra mile when anyone at the SGC might be in need of her care.

Daniel tried to get a look at his watch but it was on the bedside stand along with his glasses. He had a few hours yet but all the same Jack might be trying to phone him at home. He couldn't believe that when Jack was stuck in Washington, a place he'd dreaded ever since that ill-fated visit to collect his medal from the President, Daniel was stuck in the infirmary, just because the SGC happened to have been blessed with the most compassionate, most diligent, and unfortunately most thorough physician in the Air Force.

"Janet, please…" Daniel gave it everything he had: pleading, wide blue eyes, under the eyelashes sideways reproachful look. He'd felled strong men at ten paces with that look before now. Well, felled Jack O'Neill anyway.

And damn but that military training clearly counted for something because she quailed but she didn't crumble.

"Daniel, I have to run some more tests."

"But it's just flu!" And Jack needs me at home. He needs me to be there when he walks through that door. He needs to know I was thinking of him today. He needs to have someone there to take his mind off all the murky stuff we can't think about if we're going to do our jobs…

"It's definitely flu, but there's no 'just' about it" She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She looked exhausted. SG-6 had staggered back through the gate at two a.m. having been on the wrong side of a Jaffa ambush. Janet had managed to save all of them but she seemed as drained as their supplies of 'O' negative.

Daniel could feel the tell-tale signs already creeping through his system: his eyes were scratchy, his throat was sore, he had a headache, his skin felt hot to the touch, his spine was already a little painful, and his knees were starting to ache. It was flu. It wasn't fun but it didn't involve him having to stay in the infirmary when he needed to be at Jack's place.

"Do you have any idea how many people died in the Spanish flu epidemic of 1918?" She gave him a look of weary resignation. "Daniel, you probably contracted this on-world from someone in the base. It's probably a type B virus which will cause no real harm. But on the off-chance it's an off-world contracted type A virus to which no one on this planet has any immunity, I can't let you out of this isolation ward until I know that you're not going to cause a pandemic that will kill billions." She kept the mask pressed against her face but her brown eyes pleaded for him to be reasonable. "All you have to do is stay here for a few hours while we isolate and identify the strain of flu you've contracted. Okay?"

But Jack needs me! Daniel sighed. "Okay."

As she moved away, he added quickly, "But can I have my watch back?"

She handed it to him. "We'll be as quick as we can, I promise. But, Daniel, if there was a lecture or something you were thinking of attending, you really shouldn't go out like this anyway. Even ordinary flu isn't something you ought to be spreading around."

"I know. I just…" I just need to be there for Jack today. Daniel exhaled wearily. That wasn't exactly something he could say aloud. "I just…want to go home."

"I know." She patted him gently on the shoulder and then moved off.

He felt like a shit. He was hassling Janet when she was already overworked and he couldn't even tell her why.

He banged his head down on the pillow, glowering at the nightstand as it was the only thing in focus. Sometimes he really hated working for the military.

***

Jack O'Neill looked at his watch and then looked at Major Davis. He liked Davis, of course. How could he not? The guy was probably their best ally in Washington bar none. He lived, breathed, and probably dreamed, the Stargate program. He didn't just read the reports, he studied the reports, pictured the missions in his mind; had taken care to get to know all the faces that went with those names. When an SGC member was lost, Davis mourned right along with the rest of them. When an SGC member was in danger, Davis went through the ringer right along with them. The guy was a godsend and then some. But…

But there was just that matter of him being a little too supportive sometimes. Such as when Jack had been trapped on that submarine giving Daniel the order to kill him, and Davis had been right there, being…supportive. Hands on supportive, according to Siler. Not just a brief pat on the shoulder supportive, but an actual back rub supportive. And Davis had been there again when Jack had been trapped in that death glider. Probably being damned supportive all over again.

So right along with all those good positive feelings he had about Major Davis, about what a nice guy he was and how helpful it was to have someone so genuinely on their side working for their cause in Washington, there was just a little green-tinted sliver of Get your freakin' hands off my Dannyboy!

It was petty and pathetic, and Jack was thoroughly ashamed of it, but nevertheless it was there.

"Colonel O'Neill?"

Jack realized he must have missed the last thing Davis had said to him. The man was looking a little concerned. Jack forced a smile. "Sorry. Mind on other things."

"Of course."

He felt even guiltier as Davis nodded gravely. He clearly thought Jack was talking about big serious planetary issues, not the kind of infantile jealousies that would have been immature in a schoolboy. It had been Davis' idea to schedule this meeting on a National Holiday because there would be less people around to notice it going on. Davis seemed to think everyone would be overjoyed to give up his turkey and cranberry sauce to come and talk about the Stargate. But then Major Davis thought talking about the Stargate was the most fun you could have on the planet with your clothes on. The guy really needed to get out more.

On the other hand, he'd made a good case for secrecy and he'd managed to get the top brass to go along with it. A hell of a feat in itself. There was a time when Jack might not have cared too much about the news getting out. They could always deny, right? But that was before he'd realized that finding out about the Stargate could be dangerous for people other than those who worked at the SGC.

As he passed by a window, Jack could see right across to the square. Memory hit him like a piece of flying shrapnel: the car, the sound of a body impacting against metal, the crack of a human skull against concrete, the blood on his hands…

He was reaching for his cellphone before he could stop himself. He knew Daniel was at home today. Well, Daniel should be at home today. And for 'home' read: Jack's house. Not that it mattered, wherever Daniel might be was home to Jack now. He'd realized that after he'd been trapped in that death-glider, freezing and so lonely he'd had to stop himself waking Teal'c up ten times every twenty minutes. Hypoxia had left a lot of it blurry, but he remembered Carter appearing out of nowhere, talking to him like he was very young; her voice a comforting if very unexpected lifeline back to reality. And then Jacob also coming out of nowhere, driving a really big ship that had made Jack feel like a kid in a dodgem car. All something of a blur of oxygen-deprivation, until…

Daniel.

In the dark hold of the tel'tak, suddenly Daniel was there, pulling off the helmet, taking his hand, meeting his gaze, needing to know that 'Jack' was still in there, and he'd realized Daniel was everything he wanted and needed. In the end it had really been that simple. Daniel was with him, and Jack was home.

He'd fought it for a while: hell he was a soldier, wasn't he? Fighting things was what he did. Sometimes soldiers fought good things as assiduously as they did battle with bad things. It was a reflex they couldn't always switch off. But in the end he'd stopped fighting and slipped gratefully into being with Daniel the way a weary man sank into a warm bath at the end of a long, hard day.

So today Daniel would be home and Jack needed to hear his voice. It would only take a minute's conversation; the gaps between the words would fill as many holes as a whole speech from someone else. He pressed the button to dial his own number and waited for Daniel to pick up. Jack was already smiling in anticipation because it was as easy as that these days: Daniel's voice the panacea for all ills, well, if your name was Jack O'Neill anyway.

There was no answer.

He pressed the button again, frowning; then when it rang and rang and only the answerphone picked up realized he couldn't leave a message. He could talk in code to Daniel and enjoy the fun of it, wrapping their love up in a disguise of formal phrasing, like the treat hidden in the newspaper folds in a kid's game of pass-the-parcel; leaving a stark message on the answerphone wasn't the same thing. He hung up.

Davis gave him a look of sympathy. "Something important?"

"Yes." Jack winced at the intensity, tried to disguise it with a shrug. "But not urgent. It can wait."

Davis looked at his watch. "I think they're probably assembled. Colonel…?"

Jack sighed. Lots of men in shiny uniforms and thousand dollar suits all wanting to hear from the horse's mouth what they were too damned lazy to read in the reports. Davis could have told them everything they wanted to know, but it made them feel better to have a bona fide American hero give them the lowdown in person. They were warming their hands on the reflected glow of his old battle fires. No wonder Hammond had passed this one on to him.

He could have been home with Daniel right now. Could have been in bed with Daniel kissing that patch of his skin behind his left ear that tasted like the ambrosia of the gods. The only consolation was that Daniel thought he looked hot in his dress blues.

Jack stuck his cellphone back in his jacket. In a few hours he could go home again, he just needed to concentrate on that.

***

Thinking of what Jack had been through on his last trip to Washington, Daniel sat up in bed. "Janet?"

He felt another spasm of conscience when she didn't even look impatient, just resigned. "No, Daniel, we don't have your results back yet, you'll have to wait a little longer. The lab's a little tied up with that variant of the Touched virus on PC4-921."

"I know." God she looked tired and he felt like a heel. "I just – could I use the phone?"

She brought him a phone which he realized would then have to be disinfected because he might be horribly contagious and on the point of wiping out billions. He was pretty sure all he had was flu and wouldn't be wiping out anything except several boxes of Kleenex but he was still creating more work.

He gave her an apologetic wince. "Just really need to make a phone call."

She smiled at him over the facemask. "Hot date you're not telling me about, Daniel?"

"I wish." He looked at his watch again, the phone burning a hole in his hand, wanting her to get out of earshot so he could call Jack but feeling he owed her a few minute's conversation, given what a pain in the ass of a patient he was being. "Who looked after Cassie last night?"

"Sam. She was over for the evening when the call came in, thank goodness. Don't know what I'd do without her sometimes."

Daniel smiled at that. "You know she loves looking after Cassie."

"Oh we don't look after Cassie, Daniel," Janet smiled at him over her shoulder as she moved off. "Cassie is definitely the one who looks after us."

As soon as she was out of hearing distance, he dialed the number of Jack's cellphone. The message made him want to throw the phone against the wall:

The cellphone you are dialing may be switched off. Please try again later.

"Damnit!" Daniel glowered at the nightstand again. Later wasn't going to cut it. Jack needed him now. His internal radar was telling him that. Jack was stuck in Washington being gaped at by spooks in suits like some exotic jungle animal, haunted by the ghost of a dead reporter. He'd be in need of the sound of Daniel's voice.

"Daniel?"

He looked up to find Janet gazing at him anxiously. She put a hand on his forehead. "Are you okay?"

"Just really need to talk to…" It was no good, he couldn't keep lying to her. "Um – Jack asked me for some information he might need for his talk, that's all, and I haven't managed to pass it onto him. And I left the figures at home so he might have been calling me there."

"Well you can call your answerphone from here." She looked at him in concern. "Sam showed you how to do it, remember?"

He did remember. He'd been the last person on the planet who didn't know how to do that. Literally, he presumed, as Teal'c had been able to explain the process to him the second time after Sam had shown him, when he'd forgotten the procedure and the Jaffa had remembered.

Giving her a sickly grin, he dialed his own number and accessed his answerphone. There were, of course, no messages: he and Jack had arranged that he would be spending the long weekend at Jack's house this time. Jack preferred it that way because Daniel didn't have cable television, and Daniel preferred it that way because he didn't then have to avoid the eye of his neighbors if they'd got…noisy the night before. As Jack's neighbors were further away than his were it made sense anyway. Everything about him being with Jack made sense. Except the military regulations that meant he couldn't just tell Janet why he needed to be home three hours ago.

Resisting the urge to scream and bang his head against the wall, Daniel put the phone down on the nightstand. "I'll try again later."

"You're very hot. I'm going to give you some more Tylenol. Try to get some sleep. And drink more fluids." He wondered why Janet was still so nice to him when he was such a lousy patient.

"It's the big blue eyes." She seemed to read his thoughts without difficulty, giving him a weary smile as she slipped a thermometer in his mouth. "They're your greatest asset, Daniel."

As he opened his mouth to make an indignant response she held up a warning finger and looked at her watch. "Ah, no talking when I'm taking your temperature."

"But – "

"There are other ways to take someone's temperature, you know."

Daniel decided to be good and quiet. Janet nodded in satisfaction. "Excellent, Daniel. I always knew you could be a model patient if you tried."

As Daniel waited resignedly for her to tell him his temperature was now the hundred and one it felt like, his gaze automatically strayed back to the phone. He wondered how Jack was doing. He wondered if Jack had any idea how much Daniel was thinking of him. How desperately he wanted to be with him right now…

***

Jack knew the brass hats probably had him made for a smoker now. He couldn't be having an affair after all: he wasn't married. But the way he kept looking at his watch until they caved and offered him a recess was bound to be ringing a few quiet warning bells. He didn't care. He had to speak to Daniel.

Once again as he strode out into the corridor he listened to his phone ringing into the emptiness, closing his eyes and wishing hard as if that could make the ringing stop and Daniel's voice sound on the other end. He had to face it. Daniel wasn't home. Daniel was caught up in something at Cheyenne Mountain. Daniel, being Daniel, had forgotten all about Jack O'Neill, crabby old guy with bad knees, and was rapt over some damned artifact, dreaming of lost civilizations.

Jack groaned and switched off the phone again. Damnit to hell, Daniel! He was trying not to let the paranoia kick in: the one that said if Daniel really loved him, Daniel would be home, Daniel would be answering. The paranoia that said as Daniel did love him, Daniel would be home if he possibly could be, and the fact he wasn't meant Daniel was dead, or dying, mangled in a car wreck, bleeding his life into the dashboard…No, he wasn't going to go there. He wasn't going to do this to himself. There were lots of good reasons why Daniel wasn't home, most of them to do with Daniel being a guy with a lot of interests and Jack only being one of them.

Maybe he should just phone the SGC and…

And do what? Ask if Daniel was there? Daniel had the day off today. He'd gone home to his own apartment yesterday because Jack had to be up so frighteningly early today. He had said something about going to Cheyenne Mountain to pick up some papers he wanted to look over but Jack had made it pretty clear the second he walked through that door tonight the only old thing Daniel had better be thinking about was him. So, Daniel might well have driven to the SGC in the morning, but he wouldn't be there now so there was no point phoning and –

What the hell. He'd tried his number, he'd tried Daniel's number, and all he was getting was answerphones thwarting him. Why not try the SGC? If Daniel was in his office, he could speak to him, and if there was some orderly around he could ask if Daniel had been in. He could tell them he needed some information for the presentation he was given which only Daniel would know.

He rang Daniel's office.

"Doctor Jackson's phone."

Damn!

He switched off the phone quickly. He could bullshit an orderly but he couldn't bullshit Carter. She'd know he had all the information he needed to show the brasshats and Washington; she'd spent hours going over it with him meticulously, and schooling him on what all the Goa'uld whirligigs did so it was made less blindingly obvious that the leader of SG-1 didn't have a clue on the technology. Telling her that he needed some extra information from Daniel was going to be met with polite incredulity.

"Colonel O'Neill?"

Major Davis was looking at him anxiously. The guy was acting like a parent with a gifted but difficult child who was having to give a presentation to the school governors. It was true that the Stargate program probably existed on far more of a knife edge than they ever realized. Davis had probably spent a lot of hours arguing for all the reasons why the Stargate was an asset and not a liability. It was, after all, a means by which the planet could be destroyed; the ring through which had come Goa'uld, Ree'tu, alien viruses, booby-traps buried in children, nasty little nanocytes, hallucinogen-inducing slugs, and Christ knows what else. On the upside, they'd managed to accumulate some zatguns, some Goa'uld devices that only Carter could use, and some powerful allies, none of which would give them any technology, and one of which quite often used them as guinea-pigs…

Jack gave himself a mental shake. He needed to be concentrating on what he was doing, not imagining Daniel dead. Daniel was absent-minded and very clever. Things occupied his mind that were more interesting than forty-four year old Air Force colonels with bad knees. That was just the way things were, so he might as well suck it up.

He took a deep breath, nodded to Davis briskly to signal his readiness, then marched back towards the room. He wasn't going to phone again. He wasn't even going to switch his phone on again. He was going to give this briefing the attention it deserved, then he was going to drive home, and just pray Daniel was there waiting for him…

***

Daniel awoke from a feverish doze to find Janet bending over him solicitously. "How are you feeling?"

"Depends on whether or not I'm going to die of some hideous alien virus," he responded guardedly.

"You have flu," she told him. "You're going to feel dreadful, but you're not going to die."

"Yes!" He sat up in bed and reached for his glasses. "So I can go home, right? I can go home now?"

She frowned. "Daniel, you have a temperature of a hundred and two. Your spine will ache, you knees, will ache, your teeth will probably ache. You won't be able to eat. You'll probably be sick…"

He was already reaching for his clothes. When he darted a glance at his watch, his heart did a little jump. "It's nearly seven o'clock!"

"Daniel," she spoke more sharply. "Are you listening to anything I'm telling you?"

"You shouldn't have let me sleep," he protested as he got out of bed.

"You'd really be better off here. Flu is much more bearable if you're not by yourself. Why don't you stay in the infirmary where I can monitor your fluid intake and make sure your temperature doesn't…?"

"No. I want to go home."

She gave him a look of exasperation. "Who's going to take care of you?"

"I can take care of myself."

He could see she was poised right on the edge of refusing to sign him out of the infirmary. With a sinking heart he realized that General Hammond would back her up. Hammond was another one who cared too much. They were both very protective of Daniel and usually he liked that about them; it made him feel safe, and wanted, and cared for; all the things he'd missed out on when he was growing up. But right now it was a pain in the ass and he wished they'd go buy themselves a puppy instead.

"I will drive Daniel Jackson to his home and ensure he has all the medicine he needs."

Daniel jerked his head round to see Teal'c standing in the doorway. He tried not to gaze at the Jaffa the way children look at Santa Claus but it was difficult to avoid. Teal'c was his only hope and he was a big, comforting, solid, reliable sort of hope who might conceivably be able to win over Janet Fraiser.

"Teal'c, I don't think you understand how ill Daniel is going to feel in the next twenty four hours."

"I understand that this virus can be treated without your assistance and that he would prefer to do battle with his illness elsewhere."

Daniel sat on the bed and gave Janet a full-beam begging look. "Please, Janet, if I start to feel really lousy I'll call here and ask you to send someone to pick me up. I promise. Please let me go home, please…?"

She sighed heavily. "Sometimes, Daniel, you are more trouble than all the other…All right. Teal'c can take you home, but if you start to feel really ill…"

He assured her of his absolute co-operation, he gratefully accepted the medicine she put into a bag for him, then he gave Teal'c a look which he hoped told the Jaffa that if he ever needed a new kidney, he had one right here with his name on it.

The tiny smile Teal'c gave him in return seemed to show he'd got the message.

Daniel scrambled into his clothes so fast he had barely one button done up right but he didn't care. As he hopped along after Teal'c, still trying to tie up his shoelaces, and with the corridor performing weird clogged-sinus swoops, he had hope in his heart and a song practically on his lips. "Thanks, Teal'c."

"You are welcome, Daniel Jackson."

In the car park, Teal'c held open the door of the jeep for him, and Daniel scrambled up into the passenger seat gratefully.

As Teal'c began to drive him down the mountain, Daniel wondered if he could come up with a convincing reason for why he really needed to go over to Jack's house to watch hockey when there probably wasn't any hockey on Thanksgiving and even if there was Teal'c knew he didn't like hockey, and he had a temperature of a hundred and two...

***

Jack turned the key in the door, and then stepped inside. Then he sniffed the air. Daniel sometimes cooked for him when he was late home. Not often. It was too damned domesticated for both of them, but he appreciated the gesture, and given how insecure he'd been feeling for the past few hours he wouldn't have sneered at a nice scent of roast turkey wafting out to greet him from the kitchen. No such luck.

The lights were off in the living room and his heart sank. No one home. No Daniel. Maybe he was dead. Maybe he was just busy doing something more interesting than keeping the home fires burning for a guy with whom he had, if Jack was honest, very little in common except…

Except love, damnit! Shouldn't that be enough?

"Daniel!" He snapped the word out irritably. "Where the hell are you?"

"Jack…?"

"Daniel?" His heart actually jumped. In fact it probably did something on the crossbar that would have won it a gold medal, it was so damned ecstatic. "You're here?"

"I'm upstairs…"

Daniel sounded muffled and sorry for himself, but that was okay. That was very okay. Daniel was alive and he was here.

Jack took the stairs two at a time.

The sight which greeted him made him smile all over again. Standing in the doorway of his bedroom, Jack looked across a sea of discarded tissues to a pajama-clad figure propped up on a mountain of pillows with a pale face and mussed up hair. "I have flu." Daniel said it plaintively and as if it was somebody's fault.

Jack strode across the room and switched on the bedside light to take a better look at the man. He took in the white, clammy skin, red-rimmed eyes, and red nose, then made a face. "You look like shit."

"I feel like shit." Daniel reached out and touched his buttons. "You look all…shiny."

"You look like last week's leftovers." Jack tilted up the bedside lamp. "I was trying to phone you all day."

"Janet made me stay in the infirmary. She thought I might have off-world flu instead of on-world flu." Daniel still sounded plaintive. He looked up at him. "How was the meeting?"

"Boring. How was the infirmary?"

"Boring."

Jack sat down on the bed and put a hand on his forehead. "So, you thought you'd come over here and give me your flu germs did you, Doctor Jackson?"

"Could think of no one who deserved them more."

Jack leant across and brushed his lips gently across Daniel's. "Missed you."

"Missed you too." Daniel admitted it grudgingly. "Your phone was switched off. I was thinking about you all damned day."

"Well I never thought of you once, which is why there aren't ten dead messages on the answerphone where I didn't keep phoning here to try to talk to you." Jack brushed Daniel's hair back from his hot, sweaty skin. "You're burning up. I'll get you some fruit juice. When did you last take some Tylenol?"

"Don't fuss."

"It's my prerogative."

"Isn't."

"Is." Jack said it firmly. "You're my archaeologist now, Jackson. That you means you have to do what I say when you're ill, or else."

Daniel gave him a sideways look. "Or else what?"

"You'll find out when you're well again."

Daniel gave a little smile. "That sounds like fun."

"Oh it will be," Jack assured him.

As he made to get up, Daniel reached out and grabbed his sleeve. "Wait."

"What?"

Daniel looked him up and down for a minute and then nodded. "Okay, you can start fussing over me now."

Jack went over to the doorway, shaking his head. "What was that about?"

"Shiny suits you." Daniel sighed contentedly. "Of course naked suits you better…"

"If you think I'm getting into bed with a snotty, sneezing, feverish geek with flu, you've got another think coming," Jack assured him.

"You can't stay away and you know it," Daniel returned. Then he sneezed violently before beginning to cough.

"Oh yes, very enticing." Shaking his head, Jack headed downstairs.

***

"Jack…?"

"What…?" Jack sighed it softly. He was already going through the checklist of things Daniel might want. He'd tried to get Daniel to have some soup. He'd managed to get him to drink some fruit juice laced with plenty of Tylenol. He'd fetched him a bowl so he could throw up if he had to, and he had the cough syrup all ready and waiting with a spoon to hand for when Daniel wanted the next dose. He'd made a note of his temperature – he'd automatically gone to write it on his forehead until Daniel had grabbed his wrist and pointed out that they weren't in the field now, and he could just use a piece of paper like a 'normal person'. He'd put his arms around him when he was cold, and bathed his forehead with a cold flannel when he got too hot.

His reward had been to have Daniel fall asleep in his arms. Even though Daniel's breathing sounded awful, he'd dribbled all over Jack's chest, and was probably in the process of giving him his virus even as he snored, it seemed like payment enough.

"Are you sorry I came over here?"

Jack looked down in surprise to find Daniel gazing up at him. His hair was even more mussed and he looked ludicrously cute. He bent down and kissed the top of his head. "I missed you so much it was scary," he admitted. "If you hadn't been here when I got home I don't know what I would have done."

"I felt like I needed to be here." Daniel reached for a Kleenex, sneezed, then dropped the tissue on the floor. Jack could barely see his carpet for old tissues now. Just another of the joys of domesticity, he supposed. "But then I thought afterwards, it would have made more sense to just stay in the infirmary and leave you a message on the answerphone telling you where I was."

"It might have made more sense," Jack stroked his hair gently, "but it would have been all wrong."

"Next time you go to Washington, I'm coming with you." Daniel said it with what was probably great firmness, although he was so bunged up with phlegm it was hard to tell. "I'm a…civilian consultant. I'll get General Hammond to tell them they need my input too."

"Has it ever occurred to you that General Hammond might not be able to do that?"

Daniel blinked up at him in surprise. "Don't be silly, Jack. General Hammond can do anything if he puts his mind to it. So can you."

"Oh, right." Jack stroked his hair again. "My mistake."

"So, next time I come to Washington with you?"

"Okay." He wasn't going to argue with an archaeologist with a temperature of a hundred and two. "You can wear your suit."

"I have more than one suit."

Jack reached for the bedside clock and checked the time. "You need some more medicine. Sit up." As he poured the cough syrup onto the spoon and held it out, he added conversationally, "And I meant the suit that fits."

Daniel swallowed, made a horrible face, then wiped his mouth with his hand. "Yeuch."

"Now this." He shook up the bottle off the white gloppy stuff Janet had sent and poured a spoonful of that as well.

Again, Daniel obediently swallowed then made a face. "That stuff is vile."

"Well that means it's probably doing you some good." He put the bottle and spoon back on the bedside table then patted his chest invitingly.

Daniel lay back down on him again. "Did you really miss me?"

"Like breathing in and out." Jack ran a hand through his hair. "Did you really try to phone me?"

"Six times. Janet thought I had a hot date I wouldn't tell her about. Oh yes," Daniel wriggled in a bit closer. "Teal'c knows."

"What?" Jack jerked upright in the bed.

"Ow!" Daniel rubbed his nose accusingly. "Stop moving around."

Jack lay back down and Daniel lay back on top of him. Jack counted to ten. "You want to run that 'Teal'c knows' stuff by me again?"

"Well he made Janet let me out of the infirmary and then he drove me straight here. I just said I wanted to go home but he brought me here. So he must know. And anyway he had a sort of…twinkle in his eye."

"But, we were so…" Jack pulled a face. "Okay, maybe we weren't so careful."

"I think he approves." Daniel wriggled in more comfortably, nuzzling against Jack's chest.

"Good." Jack had a sudden vision of how six foot four and who knew how many pounds of Jaffa who disapproved might look. "Very good. Excellent, in fact."

"I approve too, by the way," Daniel added. "Just in case you were interested."

Jack handed him another Kleenex in readiness for the next sneeze. "I think I'm coming round to the idea myself."

Daniel wiped his nose on what Jack sincerely hoped was the tissue he'd given him, then said, "Jack…"

"What?" He sighed it resignedly. Did Daniel need to throw up? Drink more fruit juice? Take more medicine? Was he too hot? Too cold?

"Happy Thanksgiving."

Jack blinked in surprise. He'd somehow managed to forget all about that. He and Daniel had meant to go out to dinner tonight. They'd booked a restaurant. They'd been going to dress up and eat turkey. Instead he was in bed with a sweaty, feverish, sneezing Daniel in his arms, coughing flu germs onto his chest hair. Jack felt a slow smile spread across his face: he must be in love because, god, round about now, it felt like life didn't get any better than this.

He bent down and kissed the top of Daniel's head again; unable to stop himself from grinning like an idiot because Daniel was alive, and Daniel loved him. "Happy Thanksgiving, Daniel."

The End