What Shall We Do With a Drunken Linguist….

By JayEm

Shit. He’s sneezing again. This time instead of throwing him a handful of tissues, I just launch the box across the couch to him. The guy can’t deny it anymore. Allergies my ass, he’s sick. He wheezes something that sounds like ’tanks’ before blowing his nose and sinking back into the sofa cushions.

“Sorry,” he sniffles at me. “I should probably, uh, go home before…” He sneezes - loudly – and starts coughing.

Christ, sounds like a lung dislodged on that one. It finally eases up and he sits there leaning over with one hand on his chest and the other waving around like he’s flagging down a cab. Not sure what he wants, but I do know what he needs.

I get up and head for the bathroom medicine chest.

Where’d I put it…?

Yeah. There it is, hiding behind the shaving cream and the condoms…crap, those things are way outdated, and I never even got to use them. On that depressing note, I grab the triangular bottle and start down the hall, stopping at the catchall drawer in the kitchen for a dosage cup. Dr. O’Neill is on the job; Janet would be so proud.

Stepping back through the dining room, I realize my patient is missing. As I hit the bottom of the stairs I hear him wheezing in the foyer.

God, this is rich….

Daniel is putting on his coat.

No. His coat is putting on him. One arm in a sleeve and one arm out, the loose sleeve is down around his feet…

It’s going to happen, I can see it…

Down he goes…

I’ve never seen anything so pathetic in my life...or so cute. Yeah, I said cute. Hell, I bought those condoms hoping some night Daniel would stay over in my room instead of the one down the hall. Ah, well, I’m hopeless.

I move in to pick him up off his ass and he looks at me like he’s not quite sure how I got so tall all of a sudden.

“Up you go, big guy. You aren’t going anywhere tonight.”

“ ‘m not?”

“Nope, I’ve got a guest room with your name on it.” He’s up…sort of…and I steer him back toward the stairs while we’ve got some momentum going.

“You do?” My hyper-intellectual linguist is reduced to monosyllables.

Definitely sick.

“You bet…”

I can feel the heat rising through the material of his sweater as I help him up the steps. Shit, this came on awfully fast. Maybe I should call Janet…

He wobbles a little as we reach the guest room and I grab his elbow. Just a little farther, Daniel…

I hit the light and park him on the bed. He sneezes again and the cough is back with a vengeance.

Shit.

I head for the bathroom, fill a glass of water, and round up some more tissues. When I get back, he’s bent over and breathing in hard, wet-sounding rasps. Damn it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this sick. The allergies are a given, the appendix was scary, but this…

I give him the glass and he nods thanks. I remember the medicine bottle and pour a dose while he’s sipping at the water and getting his breathing under control.

When he finally looks up, I’m ready.

He looks at the cup like it’s radioactive, and starts the head-shake thing. “No, no, no…”

“Just take it.”

“Jack…” he wheezes, okay, whines. “That stuff might as well come in a bottle with our names on it…”

He’s probably right, but…

“You’d rather cough all night?”

He looks like he’s really considering it.

“C’mon, it’s the coughing-aching-sneezing-yadda-yadda stuff, right?” I give him a big sigh and do the ‘for your own good look’ so he knows I’m not going to back off.

He gives me a sigh back, still eyeing the cup like it’s full of liquid naquada, but he takes it and knocks it back in one shot.

“That’s disgusting, Jack.”

“It’s supposed to be, it’s medicine.”

“So you say…” he mutters as I reach behind him to draw down the comforter on the bed.

“So says the AMA.”

As he toes off his shoes, he snorts, leaving no doubt of his opinion of the medical association’s decisions concerning the care of the masses.

He gets up and wobbles to the bathroom. While he’s gone I rummage in the bureau for one of the many pairs of flannel pajamas Sara’s aunt sends me every year for Christmas. I think the old girl still thinks we’re related, that or she owns stock in blue flannel. I pick out a pair that aren’t too gaudy, and just happen to be predominantly the same color as Daniel’s eyes, unwrap them and lay them out on the bed.

Daniel is coughing again in the bathroom - a harsh, raw sound that takes me back to the time Charlie had pneumonia. Scared the shit out of me worse than a dozen jaffa after my ass ever could.

I knock on the bathroom door and it opens mid-cough. At first all I can see is his arm, then his head leaning over the sink while his body trembles against the support.

“You okay?”

That bit of inanity earns me a glassy-eyed ‘duh’ look and I have to grin sheepishly. “Sorry. Why don’t we get you to bed?

He mumbles something my ever-hopeful brain fills in as ‘if only’. It takes me a long minute to shake off the effect those words have on me before I catch him carefully under his shoulders and lead him back toward the bedroom. It seems to take all his limited concentration to weave along with me to the bed but I’d swear he’s purposely flirting with me in a series of bleary but highly sexy glances. It’s gotta be love, because I’m buying it hook, line, bobber, and sinker.

I cough to dispel the image the word ‘bobber’ brings to mind and hand him the pajamas. “Need any help?”

Crap, that is *so* not what I meant to say…..

Daniel blinks up at me, frozen in place as if he’d just been asked to dance nude on the gate ramp before a command audience of Hammond, the Secretary and the President himself. His eyes are more than a little fuzzy and I just know he’s starting to feel the um, medicinal effects of the OTC liquor known as Nyquil. He blinks finally and clears his throat cautiously. “Um…only if you want to…”

Holy….

Things are really bobbing now and I’m hoping like hell he means what I think he means and I’m not about to take advantage of a man under the influence.

“Oh, I do…want to.” Wanted to so long I can’t remember not wanting to anymore. Damn right I want to.

He nods at me, gaze unwavering, and long years of practice tell me he wants it too. Not the big ‘it’, he’s too sick for that, but the metaphysical he and me and nothing else it is definitely right here on the table…or bed as it were. “Hold that thought..” I tell him then head for the bathroom again for another staple of the medicine cabinet, a basin of warm water and a washcloth. Now that I’ve been given tacit permission to touch, I’m going to take full advantage and get Daniel better ASAP.

He’s still sitting on the side of the bed, pajamas in hand, looking dopey but definitely happy…and not a little bit curious as to what the new equipment is for.

“Just relax and let Dr. Jack take care of you tonight, Daniel…”

He snorts lightly, face screwing up in completely adorable confusion. Man, I am so gone…..

With a smile that could be described as ‘come hither’ if he didn’t look so close to falling flat on his face, he nods. “I’m in your hands, Jack….finally.”

Yeah, me too, Daniel. I stoop down to unbutton his shirt and it’s all I can do not to lean in and kiss every bit of skin revealed. I’ve looked at Daniel before in various states of nakedness, but it was always too public, or too much in crisis to linger and appreciate. Daniel’s got a damn fine body for a guy who spends most of his time in the dirt. Nothing new either, the first few times we took a post-mission shower together I was surprised to notice the lean muscle and easy grace of the man, it’s just always been hidden under uniforms that don’t ever seem to fit quite right or the loose shirts and pants of his civvies. Daniel’s never been one to put himself on display, he’s just who he is…a hidden treasure I’m finally honored to be able to uncover.

Damn, my hands are shaking….need to touch….

As if he can read my thoughts, Daniel leans in and meets my hands, eyes never leaving mine - telling me with look and action how badly he needs to be touched. Nodding my head, I let my hands rove over the smooth-hard surface of his chest, too warm with the fever but gently responding to my fingers in small ripples of pleasure. Reluctantly I let one hand roam and direct the other to finish with the buttons and push his shirt off his shoulders, dipping my head in for a light kiss at the pulse point under his jaw. Somehow he’s managed to lose the shirt entirely and I feel his hands on my face guiding me to his lips.

Germs have never been further from my thoughts, everything I ever wanted is right here in front of me… It takes all I’ve got to back things down - Daniel isn’t the only one with a fever here…..

“Easy…need to take care of you first….” I sigh the words.

He pecks me on the nose and smiles, “Thought you were….”

I pull him close and hang on. “Always…”

His arms pull me closer and I can feel he’s trembling, and despite my desires to the contrary I don’t think it’s merely from my presence. First things first. I loosen one hand and dampen the washcloth in the warm water, and begin stroking it over his back. With a sigh he loosens up and leans further into me.

It’s funny, I never thought of tending a sick person as sensual, but it is. Needing to make him feel better, feeling his body respond to the comforting warmth of the damp cloth and my touch - not in a sexual way, not really - it’s one hell of a turn on. Reluctantly I finish his back and lean out to do the same with his chest and neck, watching as his eyes close and he gets an almost beatific smile on his face.

“What?”

He shakes his head, keeping his eyes closed. “Nothing. Just feeling.”

And I know he’s not talking about his health. The thought has me grinning as I finish his chest and move on to his stomach, noting the ripples of the muscles there that indicate greater sensitivity. A sensitivity I’m looking forward to exploring at our earliest convenience. Too soon, I’m finished with his upper half and it’s time to …

He opens his eyes now, looking at me in total acceptance and trust - and I have to swallow hard as I accept the honor and responsibility of loving him, knowing that same look holds a promise that is wholeheartedly returned. I lean in to kiss him lightly before helping him to unsteady feet and reach for his belt. He leans in and puts his head on my shoulder, hands resting loosely around my neck as I undo his pants and let them drop. His tented boxers tell me how turned on he is, but the shaking transferring itself to me through his arms and head tell me that’s the only thing that’s up for more than a lot of TLC and cuddling. Which is fine by me. Hell, more than fine.

Reaching for the pajama pants, I hold them open while he works at getting his legs where they need to be. The position puts my face in an interesting position and I can’t help rubbing my cheek against his erection, feeling it pulse and knowing it’s for me. He moans hoarsely and I get my mind back out of the gutter with an effort, pulling his pants on.

When I’m back on eye level with him I can see he’s pale as a ghost and barely able to stand. I guide him gently to the bed, making him lie down and putting his feet up before reaching for the blue jar I brought from the bathroom. He eyes it suspiciously before quirking an eyebrow at me.

“You have a kink I need to know about, Jack?”

Gathering up a fingerful of Vick’s Vapor Rub, I give him my best leer. “Plenty where you’re concerned, but for now I just want to make you feel better.”

His eyes mist a bit and he gives me the tight smile that always lets me know when something’s touched him right down to the soul. “You always do, Jack…”

I warm the smelly gel between my fingers then proceed to rub it onto his chest, reveling in the unfettered access to the mass of skin I’ve coveted so long. I can’t help the wave of possessiveness that washes over me as strongly as the odor of menthol coming from the medicine. He’s mine now…and I’m his. A fact of our lives from this day onward, for as long as we’re allowed to have it.

Daniel is smiling at me again, don’t think he’s ever really stopped. He looks sick as hell, but better - somehow happier than I’ve seen him for too long a time. I grin back at him and finish up, helping him into the pajama jacket. I tuck him under the blankets and haul the water basin back to the bathroom. Stripping down to my shorts and t-shirt I head back to find Daniel looking pleasantly dopey but obviously making himself stay awake. Waiting for me. Sweet.

I want to ask, should ask….

“Come here, Jack….” he says hoarsely.

As seductive statements go that one needs work, but the welcoming arm is enough to let me know I’m wanted in his bed. I knew, think I knew anyway, but sometimes it’s good to have confirmation.

I slide in and cuddle him up next to me. “Feel better?”

He nods against my chest. “Um hmm…much. Thanks, Jack.”

I nuzzle his ear and kiss his forehead, making sure there’s no doubt that he knows the pleasure was and is entirely mine.

“So you forgive me for getting you drunk on cold medicine and having my wicked way with you?” That earns me a tight hug and an honest-to-God giggle. No doubt about it, my linguist cum archaeologist cum best friend cum soon-to-be-lover is at least two sheets to the wind and well on his way to three. “You are so drunk, Daniel….”

He snort-sniffles into my chest, and I feel his head dip. “No, not really….just happy.”

And I don’t think he could have said anything else that would make this night more complete. I intend to concentrate every ounce of my energy on getting him well, on getting him in my bed when he isn’t under the influence of or smelling like anything remotely green, but now - this moment - is perfect in and of itself. I’m holding my world in my arms and life is good.

Hell, it’s damn near perfect.

*fin*