Music Lessons

Ruffle

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.

MUSIC LESSONS

by Ruffle

I’m sure Jack doesn’t suspect a thing. He may be the black ops expert, but I’ve learned a thing or two in my time with the SGC, many of them by watching Jack. I have to admit I spend enough time at that occupation. Watching Jack, that is. It’s practically become a second vocation. If they ever advertise for a professional Jack-watcher, I’ve got the experience for the job.

When did it go from looking to follow Jack’s lead, watching my teammate’s back, casually exchanging silent communication with my best friend, to this hungry, longing need to drink in every aspect of his appearance on a regular basis? It must have happened gradually because I don’t remember any life-altering revelation. Oh, there was a point where I consciously admitted I was in love with Jack, but it was an acknowledging of how I’d felt for a long time rather than a sudden falling head-over-heels the way it was with Sha’re.

I’ve known I enjoyed Jack’s company. No, that’s not strong enough. Being with Jack meant being safe, protected, valued, warm, happy. Not being with Jack meant being down, alone, empty, chilled, incomplete. I think it took me a while to put it together that Jack was the common denominator in the changes in my moods. I’m supposed to be a genius, but I don’t think I can blame myself for missing that clue.

Once I did figure things out, it’s not like it changed anything. I mean, there’s no way I could act on my feelings. I can just imagine Jack’s reaction.

“This is really good pizza, Jack, and oh by the way, did I mention I’m in love with you?”

“Geez, Daniel, what’s in that stuff you’re drinking? Did Ferretti spike the cappucino machine with booze again?”

“There’s nothing in my coffee, Jack. I meant what I said.”

“Ha ha. Good one, Daniel. That’s a real knee-slapper. Bet you really had them going at the Abydonian comedy club.”

“I’m serious.”

“Ah. Well, in that case, do you want your ass kicked now or after I boot you off the team?”

Yeah, the news would go down real well.

So I couldn’t say anything. I just hugged the feeling to myself and continued to spend as much time with Jack as I could.

The main problem with that was that lately it seemed like we were spending less and less time with just the two of us. Whether hanging out at Jack’s house or going out when SG-1 had some downtime, Sam and Teal’c were always around, or Janet and Cassie, or even Ferretti and the other guys from base. Jack’s a real popular guy. Not that I don’t want to spend time with my friends, too, but I had to figure out a way to get Jack to myself occasionally.

So that’s why I bought the piano.

I’ve known Jack was an opera and classical music lover from way back, but I didn’t find out he played an instrument himself until the last base Christmas party. I think Jack surprised even himself when he ended up fingering the keys of the old Baldwin in the rec room. He may sing off-key, but his playing is an entirely different story.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Jack has very skillful, competent hands. He can field strip a weapon, wield a hockey stick, build a fire, prepare a meal, kill an enemy, shuffle a deck of cards, use military hand signals – all efficiently and gracefully. I can only imagine how talented those hands would be at making love… I can only imagine. So the piano turning out to be his instrument made sense.

I followed my impulse and bought a piano for Jack. Not that he knows I got it for him. I’m sure he hasn’t guessed. It was completely natural to ask him to help me brush up my rusty skills. I only ever learned the basics as a kid and hadn’t played in years. This was a chance for Jack not only to lead me from Chopsticks to Chopin, but to share something he loved, like he’s always trying to do with hockey and fishing.

And it was a chance for me to sit next to Jack on the piano bench.

Side by side like now, shoulders brushing, fingers tangling as he patiently corrects my mistakes. Feeling his body heat, shivering at the occasional puff of his breath as he murmurs instructions next to my ear. Breathing in his woodsy, faintly musky-sweat-tinged scent. It’s my one chance to be physically close to him, to have him all to myself, and I know it’s the most I’ll ever get. I can’t have Jack, not the way I want, so is it so much to ask to have this?

I stumble over the next chord, notes clashing discordantly as my fingers trip, then halt. I’m not in any great hurry to learn, which is such a different feeling for me. But what’s going to happen when I’ve absorbed all Jack can teach me? How can I lose these sessions together? How can I find something else to take their place? How can I…?

“Daniel?”

Warm fingers close over mine as I become aware of Jack’s voice softly concerned. Lifting panicked eyes, I see him gazing at me, a puzzled frown in the honeyed brown depths.

What did I do? Did I do something, say something wrong? No, I was thinking so much I probably zoned out. I can explain that easily enough, say I was concentrating on the lesson and just lost track of everything else, just like I’m doing now staring into Jack’s dark eyes, drawn into their warmth, fascinated as they change from puzzlement through the stages of working out a problem and something – understanding? hope? – clicks into place.

“Daniel?”

I blink, coming back to awareness. Oh no, I did it again. How many zone-outs can I justify without coming off as a complete space case? “J-jack?”

“Daniel.” A husky note roughens Jack’s voice. His eyes take on those little crinkly lines in the corners he gets when he smiles, and sure enough, those mobile lips are widening into a pleased curve. Is he laughing? Is something funny? What…?

Suddenly I’m aware my hand is still in Jack’s. Not only didn’t I pull away, I’ve actually turned it, curled my fingers around his, rhythmically caressing his knuckles with my thumb. Oh God, I’m holding hands with Jack! I have totally blown everything. How could I not have noticed what I was doing; how could I be so stupid?

I try to pull away now, knowing it’s too late, but Jack grips harder.

“Danny, it’s okay.” His expression as soft as his voice, Jack raises his other hand and strokes it through my hair back to the nape of my neck.

What is he doing? I freeze. I can’t move, can’t think. All I can do is stare into those eyes, their softness suddenly flaring with a fire quickly banked. They move nearer as Jack leans forward, and then his lips press a kiss on mine. It’s gentle, exploring, inviting. Fleeting while somehow infinite.

My whole world is crashing and rearranging around me while somehow at the still center one clear thought is careening through my brain. Jack is kissing me. Jack is KISSING me. JACK is kissing ME.

He pulls back and looks at me, a question plain in those eyes, the fire blazing more hotly in their smoky depths.

I sit a moment, breathing ragged, reading his eyes, feeling the burn sparking from his eyes to mine.

“Daniel?”

His voice prods me to action. It doesn’t matter if I can’t think. I can feel, and this feels right. Pressing close I kiss Jack, answering the invitation, fire transferring from eyes to lips, setting my entire body aflame.

As I feel Jack’s arms go around me, his hands holding me close, I know I will finally get the chance to find out how those hands make love. And I know it’s going to be all right.

We don’t need Chopin anymore.

Jack and I will make our own music together.

THE END

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