jd_junkie's fandom musings

All suggestions gratefully received

2009-11-12T12:08:42Z

So. I have some free time coming up ... and this fills me with glee because work is too appalling for words atm ... and, aside from some yummy family stuff, I plan to do some writing for the Jack/Daniel clicheathon.

The problem is that there are just too many wonderful cliches, tropes etc to choose from. I've written sex in the storage closet, stranded!fic, phone sex, and there could be an argument made for the fact that everything I write is cliche-ridden *g*. I simply cannot choose a cliche.

This list provides some invaluable suggestions, so, the question is ... which cliche would YOU like to see me tackle? Can't promise to write it, but your input might provide some timely inspiration ...

Have at it!

PS: SG:U and TPTB are made of such epic fail it leaves me speechless. Memo to General Jack: cease and desist your involvement with this dreck ASAP.

ETA: Beware of possible SG:U spoilers in comments

A thon and a fic

2009-11-08T14:42:09Z

WOOT!

It's Jack/Daniel clicheathon time! over at DW. The link contains posting details etc.

This means a month of delicious J/D cliche-themed fic ahead. What more could an obsessed Jack/Daniel writer/reader want?

To gets things started, I bring you 1,100 words of Jack/Daniel, wherein Jack learns a thing or two, Daniel defends his hair style and Jonas eats a banana. It's rated R and it's here.

Here's to some great fic and some great reading. Thanks to paian for organising. Yay!

*iz excited ... squee*

New fic

2009-11-01T17:39:34Z

Title: The Ripples in the Pond.

Word count: 3,350.

Summary: It's Jack's last day at the SGC and he's finding a hundred ways not to say goodbye.

Rating: Teen.

A/N: This fic is Jack-centric, but focuses on his relationships with SG-1 and other SGC personnel ... and one person in particular. No prizes for guessing who. *g*

Go to my DW journal to read.

Hallowe'en drabble

2009-10-30T12:05:30Z

Go to my DW journal for 100 words of Jack/Daniel Hallowe'en nonsense

What othes have said about this drabble:

"This drabble is hauntingly good ..." Fanfic Monthly

"It scared the pants off me ..." Cameron Mitchell

"I want my mommy ..." Teal'c of Chulak

Fic help please

2009-10-22T10:19:22Z

Question: Would Jack have been given the option of refusing his move to the Pentagon? Do you get more say in your postings as you rise through the military ranks, or is there never any choice?

This inquiring mind needs to know for a fic currently in the works.

Thoughts, ruminations, theories?

New J/D fic

2009-10-17T14:58:40Z

I've posted a new Jack/Daniel ficlet over at the jackdanielpromptfic comm at DW.

It's a pre-slash hurt/comfort tag to Cold Lazarus, prompted by a gorgeous manip by magnavox_23 . The fic will eventually form part of the codas I plan to write for every ep. This one just seemed to fit the prompt.

Go here to read.

Dear Stargate:Universe, er, Dear John

2009-10-15T15:54:10Z

Dear U,

Yes, let's get the play-on-words joke out of the way first because this isn't funny at all.

I'm sorry, but this is goodbye. It's the end, and, although it's barely even begun, I know the time is right to end our relationship.

And there's something I have to make clear ... it's not me, it's you ... U.

You (U) are dull. You are without heart. You annoy me intensely with your constant attempts to be something you're not. I'm sorry to lay it out like this, but, after over a decade of close friendship with the rest of your family, I feel only the truth is good enough.

See, it's like this. I'm still in love with your older brother ... not your much-less appealing and slightly younger cousin, who also annoys me rather a lot and has never really been a part of my life.

Your older brother had heart, humour, and told good stories, sometimes great stories. Oh, don't get me wrong, we had our disagreements - one year we didn't get on AT ALL - but I never felt the parting of the ways was necessary.

But you (U) have tested my patience to the limit, with your "screw the rest of the family and its history, I'm all that counts now and I'm different and BET-TER and god but I'm SO grown-up" attitude. No. You're not bet-ter. You just have more money at your disposal. And that's just not enough to keep me interested.

You're simply not my demographic. I'm sorry but that's how it is.

This is where it ends.

Goodbye.

You know where the door is ... just past the Neilson box.

No love,

Me.

Jack/Daniel ficathon 2009 fic

2009-10-12T14:43:43Z

Written for the Jack/Daniel Ficathon 2009

Title: Summer's Lease
Author:jd_junkie
Summary: Three days together, two men in love, one of them is reading.
Word count: 3,577
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, more's the pity
Written for:rivulet027
Prompt: Playful Jack, a literary reference
Notes: The story is set in season 9, six months after Jack leaves for Washington. Huge, no really, huge beta thanks to princessofg and starglyph

Summer’s Lease by jd_junkie

“What would it take to get you to put that book down?”

Daniel lowered the book in question and peered over the top of his glasses, eyebrows arching, which always made Jack want to smooth his thumbs over them and wrangle them gently back into place.

“I’ll get back to you on that.” Daniel adjusted his glasses and returned to the job at hand, settling further down into the couch. Jack eyed him from the other end, where he slouched, bare feet propped on Daniel’s coffee table. Daniel was leaning against the far armrest, feet in Jack’s lap. He was comfortable, absorbed, relaxed. Jack was antsy, couldn’t settle, horny.

Jack sighed theatrically as he reached for the TV remote. He clicked through a dozen channels in rapid succession, as was his wont, images of scantily-clad women screaming in each other’s faces morphing with astonishing speed into basketball players high-fiving, and cheetahs taking down a wildebeest.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack watched Daniel watching the muted TV. Jack knew it drove Daniel to distraction, the way he flipped from channel to channel, only settling when something Daniel never wanted to watch filled the screen.

Soccer. Not even U.S. soccer. Some Italian teams, high on skill, low on general appeal to Daniel. Jack grunted his approval and absently stroked Daniel’s feet which, sadly for Jack, were hidden beneath a pair of Jack’s socks. Daniel, who was also wearing Jack’s worn-thin Bart T-shirt and a pair of old jeans, had obviously picked up whatever was closest to hand when he sloped out of bed this morning. Yesterday’s clothing had fallen where it lay, abandoned in the late-night rush to the bedroom.

It had been a long night. In the best way. Jack was back from Washington for three days. It was the longest time they’d been able to spend together in the six months since his departure for D.C.

Last night, their first night, Daniel had fucked Jack hard and fast and with minimal conversation and maximum desperation before they fell asleep, the relief and comfort of being together mixing with the release of orgasm and knocking them both for a loop. Later, Jack woke Daniel with a long, slow blowjob, and Daniel returned the compliment with a deliciously intense handjob, accompanied by a commentary that was both affectionate and downright filthy.

It was heaven.

And it was going too quickly.

And Daniel was reading a book.

Jack kept one eye on the TV – he didn’t need the sound for a game he only partly understood but liked the aesthetics of – and the other on Daniel, who really was lost again in the reading. The switching on of the TV had been but a mild distraction. Having his feet stroked, however, seemed to be eliciting a more definite and positive response, since he was flexing and pushing his toes into Jack’s hand.

Jack smiled. It was so damned good to be here and doing this. The days in Washington were long and often frustrating. Snatched phone conversations when both he and Daniel were tired and missing each other too much were not enough.

This was almost enough to sustain him. This and the glorious ache in his lower back and ass, which he’d committed to body memory and would pull into sense memory during the lonely, cold nights in the capital.

“Wanna snuggle?” Jack squeezed Daniel’s foot and jiggled it, just for good measure.

Daniel gave him the look.

“We could have sex while you’re reading. You wouldn’t have to do anything. I’d even turn the pages for you.”

The look intensified. Jack shook the toes a bit more.

“I’d try not to make you lose your place.”

“Jack ...”

On screen, a good-looking, tanned guy with sweaty, flowing hair was being hugged by his teammates after scoring a goal. Jack had missed it. “You’re no fun,” he pouted, just for the hell of it. Truth was, as much as he wanted to slide into the heat of Daniel’s body, to make him make those breathy coming noises, he was pretty much content just to sit here and watch Daniel read.

Jack often found himself engrossed in Daniel’s absorption - from the passionate, involving way he delivered briefings, to the intense focus he applied to translation work. But reading; reading was something else. It was as necessary and important to Daniel as breathing. Daniel read with his whole body, as though the words didn’t just register with his eyes and brain but with every part of him. Daniel shifted slightly on the cushions as he carefully turned the page, handling the aging paper with thin cotton gloves and a gentle reverence.

Jack wanted those hands on him, preferably without the gloves, but they could negotiate. Wanted that focused attention aimed at him. He tightened his hold on Daniel’s right foot and applied a little more pressure.

“Five Years’ Explorations at Thebes; being a record of work done 1907-1911 by the Earl of Carnarvon and Howard Carter,” Jack intoned, peering at the title through squinty eyes. He really needed his reading glasses but they were on the bedside table and no way was he getting out from under a warm, sprawled Daniel.

Daniel laid the opened book on his chest and gave him a level stare. He was caught between pissed at being disturbed and eager to share his delight with what lay within the pages, Jack could tell.

“Catchy title.”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a rare work. I spent years tracking it down. It details Carter's excavations in the Valley of Deir el Bahari and the Birabi, the Valley Temple of Hatshopsut and Ptolemaic vaulted tombs.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“It has chapters by Legrain, Newberry and Speigelberg, Jack. It’s a first edition and is absolutely fascinating. The-the, care taken in the recording, the photographs and drawings. These researches, which came about a decade before the discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb, uncovered the early 18^th Dynasty decorated tomb chapel of Tetiky.”

“Hmm.” Jack massaged Daniel’s foot some more, pushing his thumb up into the arch, which made Daniel squirm nicely. “And how much did you pay for this ... wonder of the written word?”

Daniel bit his lip and Jack could see the thought processes play out; to tell and be teased, or not tell and be nagged endlessly.

“$1,500.”

Jack coughed. “You paid $1,500 for a book?”

Daniel pulled his feet from Jack’s lap and sat up, balancing the book on his knees. “Not just any book; it has 79 plates. It’s ... wonderful, gorgeous.” He ran his right hand over the cover in a way that made Jack shiver. It was a caress.

“It’s Egypt,” Jack said, pointedly, softly, knowing Daniel would get it.

He did. He pushed well away from Jack and tucked himself into the corner of the couch, sitting with his legs folded under. Damn him that he was still supple enough to do that. Daniel opened the book and pretended to read.

When Daniel didn’t speak for a long minute, Jack added, “You always return to anything Egyptian when you need to escape. Metaphorically speaking.” Jack knew that Daniel knew this. It was just worth mentioning sometimes. Just so that Daniel knew that Jack understood.

Egypt was Daniel’s space. Daniel’s place. Jack hoped there was room there for him, too.

Daniel turned his head away a little, chin jutting, notionally putting more space between them.

It had been a tough few months. The separation was hard, the fallout from the Ori missions harder still. They needed to talk about that stuff. Jack just didn’t want to talk about that stuff now. Spending quality, relaxing, love-filled moments with Daniel was surely the best way to help Daniel cope with the “same shit, different day” that was currently his working life.

“Of course, for $1,500, you could have flown to Egypt and communed with the real thing instead of some fusty old pages.”

He wasn’t a Philistine, he really wasn’t. But sometimes it was fun to pretend and Daniel usually, obligingly, rose to the bait.

“And when exactly am I going to get the time to go to Egypt? We’re in the middle of a war. Come to that, how did you finagle three days’ leave for both of us?” Daniel studiously avoided looking at Jack and turned the pages slowly.

“I am The Man, Daniel. It has its privileges. Besides, you needed a break. I do talk to people, you know. Telephones are wonderful things.”

Daniel cast him a sideways glance. “Who do you talk to?”

“Oh, you know. Worried teammates. Concerned COs. It’s hard to get Carter to shut up when she has a bee in her bonnet about a friend’s welfare.”

Daniel sighed and leaned forward to put the book on the table, revealing a delicious inch of bare back. “I’m fine,” he said. The book made a dull-sounding thud as it landed, despite the care with which Daniel handled it. Jack thought paperbacks had a lot going for them. Maybe he’d have to re-think the Philistine thing.

“And yet.” Jack gestured to the book.

“Yes, okay, all things Egypt are my ... comfort food, if you will. It doesn’t mean I’m coming apart at the seams.” Daniel paid unnecessarily close attention to pulling the gloves off his hands.

“I never said you were.”

“That was the implication.”

“That was your interpretation.”

“Are we arguing?”

“I don’t know. Are we?”

“It’s possible.”

“All things are possible.”

“God, enough of the Oma.”

“I was going more for Kenobi.”

Daniel smiled, then, his face lighting up with a delight that reached right to his eyes, and something inside Jack eased just a little.

Long-distance relationships were hard.

“And I got you to put the book down. Go me.”

Daniel sat back on the couch and turned his face towards Jack, letting out a deeply-held breath. It was late morning and he’d been up for less than an hour. Jack had been up for four, had gone for a short run, showered and tried to raid the empty fridge. Daniel’s hair was tousled, his face unshaven; leave it another few days and he’d be back to the scruffy beard, which Jack had loved, and not just for the added friction when they kissed. He looked like a wanton angel. Jack went suddenly hard, gasping inwardly at the core-deep recognition of his love for this beautiful man.

“You hungry?” Daniel checked his watch. “It’s nearly lunchtime and we seem to have missed breakfast.”

“Hungry for you,” Jack said, trying for sexy but sounding more like a cheap romance novel. If this hard-on remained insistent, food could take a hike.

Daniel laughed again. The sound was honest, unaffected. Totally Daniel.

“You are so full of it, Jack.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “And don’t you just love it.” As he spoke, he stretched, allowing his T-shirt to ride up. Daniel loved to mouth his stomach, to lick his way down the treasure trail slowly, never in a rush to reach the gold at the end of that rainbow. The joy was in the journey.

Jack let his knees fall apart slightly, just enough to show Daniel that he was hard. He thrust his butt off the cushions a fraction. It could have been part of the stretch. Or it could have been a less than subtle tease. Either way, Jack noticed Daniel noticing.

Jack finished the stretch, flexing his hands and letting out a gratified groan. It sounded surprisingly sexual and did nothing to ease his now painfully hard erection. Daniel was watching him and Jack was gratified to see his breathing quicken as Jack put a hand to his own groin in an apparently thoughtless gesture.

“You know I do,” Daniel said, his voice soft and full of affection. Sweet.

Jack stroked himself idly through his sweats. “On the food front, you’re all out. I checked. The moldy cheese begged me to end its suffering but I was out of bullets.”

There was that there-and-gone smile. The one that did things to Jack. Just like the small, sweet smile, and the honest to god full-on, face-enveloping grin and the embarrassed “what’s a guy to do?” one. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I was going hit the store on the way home yesterday but I got sidetracked by Mitchell and a six pack.”

“Of beer, I hope,” Jack said, with faux sternness. Not that he hadn’t wondered sometimes. Team bonds were complex and deep. It would be easy to slip into something more meaningful and physical. Mitchell was a good guy. He was also distressingly young and hot.

Daniel threw him a pained look. “He seemed to need the company. It would have been churlish to refuse and it was only for a couple of hours.”

Jack pursed his lips. “Is this something I need to know about. Or Hank?” he asked carefully, removing his hand from his groin now that they’d inadvertently strayed into official business.

Daniel leaned forward in his seat and squared the corners of his book on the table. “I don’t think so. He’s just finding it harder than he thought being the new guy, I think. He has a lot to learn, and that’s not something I had to tell him, by the way. The team dynamic has changed for all of us and Mitchell needs to find his place in it, that’s all. If I thought there was an operational problem I would take it to Landry. If I had concerns that were less substantive or identifiable, I’d take them to you. I would hope you’d trust me to do that.”

Jack sighed. His erection wilted somewhat.

And then it was Daniel’s turn to sigh. His shoulders slumped a little. “Crap. We’re misfiring here, aren’t we?”

Jack edged across the couch, put a hand on Daniel’s back and rubbed.”It’s just the distance, Daniel. Takes a while to get reacquainted.”

Daniel relaxed into the stroking. “We don’t seem to need time when it comes to sex.”

Jack nodded. “Our bodies know a thing or two. Know more than our complicated, over-thinking minds. Well. Your mind is complicated. Mine, not so much.”

“Your over-thinking mind has been not so subtly thinking about sex ever since I got up and trying to get me back into bed ever since I got out of it,” Daniel pointed out. Jack could hardly argue with the truth. He kept up the rhythmic rubbing, wishing he was feeling smooth, warm skin instead of cotton.

“Guilty as charged,” Jack said softly, hand moving up to slide over the skin where shoulder met neck, and god it felt good. Necessary. He squeezed and the muscles in Daniel’s shoulder relaxed a degree.

“I can’t stop wanting you,” Jack said, a little plaintively. “On all kinds of unfathomable levels. It’s ingrained. Bone deep. Know what I miss the most? Not the fucking, although, you know .... It’s the not being able to touch your knee when I’m watching TV, or slide my arms around your waist when you’re stirring spaghetti sauce in the kitchen. That stuff. The small stuff.”

Daniel smiled, a smile of recognition, Jack thought, and so he went on, knowing that Daniel would understand. “I want love-making and laughter and your skin on mine. I want fights over the remote, I want you to diss the jalapenos on my half of the pizza.” Crap. Did this sound as lame and needy to Daniel as it did to Jack?

“I just want you. Even if it includes some dusty old book that’s way more fascinating than I am.”

They sat in silence for a while. Jack left his hand where it lay.

“Time’s going so quickly,” Daniel said quietly, eyes fixed on the coffee table. Maybe on the cover of the book.

“Summer’s lease hath all too short a date,” Jack offered. Beneath his hands, he felt Daniel shiver.

“I love the appropriate metaphor as much as the Shakespeare,” Daniel said, breath hitching.

Jack moved closer, put his free arm round Daniel’s shoulder and gently nuzzled the side of his face, loving the feel of stubble and soft brush of sideburn. “I’m applying for an extension to that lease as of now,” he whispered.

Daniel trembled again, a soft, needy sound escaping his throat. “Long-term?”

“Longer.” He pressed a kiss to Daniel’s temple and brought his other hand up under the T-shirt, let it roam over silky chest and harder abs. It was heaven. Screw Washington and the SGC and the Ori. Fuck leave that went too fast and lonely nights that never ended.

Daniel was right here, next to him, breathing the same air, and the touch of his skin made Jack burn with a love that was unrelenting and fierce. Let the rest of it stay Out There. In Here was really all that mattered.

Jack let his hands wander, fingers tingling at the shock of connection. He circled a nipple, then brushed across it with the pad of his thumb. Daniel gasped, shuddering, and Jack felt his cock twitch in response to Daniel’s arousal.

Keeping up the nuzzling, Jack’s lips charted a lazy path across Daniel’s cheek, temple and ear, over and over, covering Daniel in all the tenderness he couldn’t lavish when they were apart. Daniel’s breathing became shallow and fast; he responded as strongly to gentleness as he did to their rougher love-making.

“Jack,” Daniel whispered, a murmur of helpless adoration.

Jack’s clever, knowing fingers tweaked and pulled at Daniel’s nipples, the sharp pinpoint of near-pain in complete contrast to the softness of his mouth, and Daniel let out a soft, “ohhhh” that brought Jack up fully hard. He shifted on the couch cushion, pushing back towards the armrest and pulling Daniel’s body with him. He settled, arms around Daniel’s chest, still stroking, still exploring, and hauled him close and tight.

The feel of his hard-on nestling between Daniel’s ass cheeks, even through layers of cotton and denim, was a delicious turn-on, and he thrust with a slight push of his hips. “Fuck, Daniel.” He wanted more, wanted skin, but this was good and Daniel was responding so beautifully to the gentle stroking of fingers on chest. So Jack kept on, circling, teasing, his hand swooping lower with each pass until Daniel was pushing up, wanting Jack’s hand lower ... lower.

As Jack undid Daniel’s fly buttons and slid his hand in, Daniel grunted and tilted his head back. Jack mouthed his hair, breathed him in, uttered words of love that were probably lost as soon as they left his lips in a whisper. He could only whisper because his mouth was dry with longing.

Jack ran his knuckles over Daniel’s erection and heard a soft, “Please.” He reached for him and found Daniel’s cock leaking, and the slick, warm feel of the pre-come on his fingers made Jack push into Daniel’s ass harder. He couldn’t not thrust.

He loved this.

He longed it for it, craved it like an addict craved the purest drug. This was a high unlike any other.

Jack set up a slow, steady rhythm, using the flat of his fingers to push Daniel’s cock flush against his stomach. A string of “yeah, yeah, yeahs” told Jack he’d judged the pressure of fingers just right. The way Daniel turned his head from side to side and reached down with a hand to cover Jack’s told him Daniel wanted faster. So he gave him what he wanted, fingers whipping him along. Daniel’s spare hand clutched the edge of the couch cushion, knuckles white.

“Yeah, Jack, oh Jack .... fuck, fuck. Make me ... make me ... uhn, nggh”.

When Daniel arched and spasmed and came, Jack felt wet stickiness spread inside his own sweats, and through the sharp twinge of orgasm, he knew he was saying things into Daniel’s hair, things that meant nothing and everything.

This was everything.

Daniel was everything.

Daniel was panting, letting out sobbing breaths and Jack could do nothing but take the weight of his body as the climax robbed Daniel of every last ounce of tension in his body.

Skin, hair, sweat, the feel of Daniel’s come on his fingers, which Jack closed reverently round Daniel’s softening penis, Jack soaked it all in. “Love you, love you,” he whispered, kissing and kissing because there was no reason to stop.

Jack tightened his hold. Daniel was limp, spent, beautiful. His head fit against Jack’s shoulder like it was sculpted by the gods for that purpose alone. It was bliss.

“Mmmmmm.” Jack shifted them both onto their sides, facing the back of the couch, and wrapped his legs round Daniel’s, anchoring them both. He felt Daniel’s breathing grow even and steady and reveled in the peace.

They lay twined together, silent and content, as the late-morning sun warmed the room.

“So,” Jack said softly, after who knew how many minutes had passed, “What will you show me in Egypt?” He couldn’t see Daniel’s face but Jack swore he felt the smile.

This. This was their summer. This would warm them through the cold winter of separation.

“The Kahn el-Khalili bazaar, Alexandria, Memphis and Dahshur ...” Daniel went quiet for a moment, then drew in a hitching breath and said, “Abydos. Home.”

Jack smiled into the soft silk of Daniel’s hair, and Daniel’s voice was the last thing he heard as sleep wrapped its tendrils around him.

ends

New J/D ficlet

2009-10-08T17:58:50Z

Posted at paian 's JackDanielPromptFic community at DW.

The fic is in response to a SPOILERY SORT OF pic cap from the Stargate: Universe premiere, Air, here

The fic contains SPOILERS for SGU.

(Have I capslocked that warning enough, do you think *g*)

Linky is here

Your question for today

2009-10-06T18:52:32Z

In the episode Birthright, how much do I love that Jack says the word "penises" and Daniel offers him a power bar?

And the answer is ...

Jack/Daniel drabble

2009-09-21T15:08:39Z

Have written a little something to ease my way into starting my J/D ficathon piece. No, I'm not flailing. Hah.

One hundred words of J/D, set post-Lifeboat, posted at DW.

You'll find it here

New fic

2009-09-03T13:59:51Z

A Strange Bewilderment
6,200 words
Jack O'Neill/Charlie Kawalsky
NC-17 in parts.

Author's notes and fic posted at my DW journal, here

My, it's quiet

2009-08-31T15:47:55Z

I don't think I've ever known fandom so quiet.

Lots of people on holiday ... reduced squee over the lack of movie #3 impetus ... GateFail in relation to SG:U. Are they all coming together to form a Fandom Black Hole of Epic Proportions?

Sigh.

O'Neill/Kawalsky fic is off to beta, and the waiting to hear back bit is always tense, no matter how wonderful your beta (and mine is *g*).

So, I'm saying hi *hi* and asking, just off the top of your head, for a favourite Stargate moment. Let us reaffirm our love. :-)

One of mine: Abyss, Daniel to Jack, "Don't ask me to do that." We all know what he's asking, and we all know why Daniel won't do it. *wails*

Another one: "Hi, I'm Daniel," to the young girl in Birthright and the ensuing conversation. No wonder she had a crush on him.

Favourites, anyone?

I'm so nosey ...

Tired but still here

2009-08-27T10:14:55Z

Gosh, I'm tired.

Work is a total, unrelenting pain in the proverbial.

I don't seem to have the energy or time for much else. I'm clinging on by my finernails for the upcoming holiday. Nine sleeps and counting. I can do it.

J/D Ficathon assignments are due next week. Always a worrying time. Always exciting, too. And lots of yummy fic to come. Hooray!

Pecking away at the O' Neill/Kawalsky fic, which is not turning out as I first thought. It's a series of scenes, really, depicting their relationship through the years. I kind of like where it's going, and I've fallen in love with Kawalsky. Sara's in the mix, too. It's interesting playing with these three characters and their dynamic (not in that way) . I have a question ... Charlie (O'Neill) according to Wiki was born in 86 and died in 94. Does anyone know how long he had been dead before Jack went through the Gate to Abydos on the first mission? I always assumed it was less than a year. But maybe I made that up.

princessofg 's recent Daniel meta had me scurrying to re-read some fic from my early days in fandom. I've mainlined destina and realised all over again why I love her work so much. Beautifully written, beautiful word choice, economical but powerful. Very much my kind of thing. Farther Than Earth From Heaven is my favourite ... a quiet, gut-clenchingly sad but beautiful (I use that word a lot with her work) piece about Jack's return to Abydos without Daniel. God, I cried. Stunning.

Not much else to say.

Just wanted to say hi. I'm here ... tired little bean though I am.

PSA

2009-08-21T14:11:44Z

paian has updated the Wip of Wonderfulness that is Come What May here.

I am beyond excited at the new entry and at what is to follow. It's an amazing piece of work and I can't wait to read it in its entirety when it's complete. Note to self: Book week off work. *g*

In other less exciting writerly news: I'm pecking away at something that snuck up on me from behind, bit my ankle and won't let go. It's really quite thrilling (to me) in an "Um, wow, what? Really? Okay then, let's give it a go" kind of way. Don't know if anything readable will come out of it but ... OMG, O'Neill/Kawalsky.
*bounce*

Birthday fic for sid

2009-08-20T17:53:29Z

Today, unless I am much mistaken (and it has been known) is the birthday of the inestimable sidlj , one of my first and bestest LJ friends.

I adore her to tiny pieces.

A little while ago, we co-wrote Unencrypted Hearts and it was the most fun I've ever had in writing. In the email exchange, I wrote Daniel and sid wrote Jack.

For her birthday, I've written a sequel. No emails this time ... just a road trip break at a gas station, as mentioned in Unencrypted Hearts.

This is 1,943 words, NC-17 and written and sent with love.

Happy birthday sid. *mwah*

Unencrypted Hearts: The Comfort Stop Coda (no internet connection required)

One of two things is going to happen if we don’t stop the car soon.

1 I am going to kill Jack.

2 I am going to come in my really rather nice Calvin Klein jeans.

Number one will come to pass if he makes one, just one, more joke about pirates. And, oh it doesn’t stop there. After a wealth of “Is that a parrot in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?” type inanity, he switches radio channels and happens across Andy Williams crooning “You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off you”, which naturally becomes “can’t take my eye off you.... get it, Daniel, ... Huh? ... Pretty funny.” With added out-of-tune singing.

Ass-hat.

Number two will occur if he doesn’t stop doing suggestive things like rolling up his shirt sleeves to show off his tanned, hairy forearms, swallowing his coffee and wearing those shades that make him look like a movie star.

Okay. So he does all those things anyway. Every day. And they don’t usually get me harder than the hardest thing in Hard Town but, Jesus, it’s been three weeks. THREE WEEKS. And in that time I’ve been bored and lonely, have acted the wounded hero on an alien planet, been confined to the infirmary with a pissy Sam and now I’m wearing a fucking eye patch.

Oh yes. And I’m horny as all get out. Did I mention horny?

Anyway. I’m sulking because of the aforementioned one and two, and Jack’s studiously ignoring that and telling me 1,001 things I Never Wanted to Know About Minnesota.

Yawn. Did I know por ejemplo, that Minnesota can be translated as “somewhat clouded water?” Well, yes, since you mention it, and since language is, you know, my THING.

Also, did I know that two continental divides meet in rural Hibbing? And that the state has 11,842 lakes? No. No I fucking didn’t know that. Nor do I care. All I want is a warm cabin, a warmer body to snuggle up to and possibly fuck, and the chance to be in love with the irritating, smug (did I mention irritating?) man I love.

I care not one jot about the fact that the state is the U.S.’s largest producer of sugar beets.

Time to try a different tack. Sulking hasn’t worked.

“So, um, how are we doing for gas?” Heh. I am the master of the innocent question.

Jack breaks off from tapping the steering wheel in time to Bolero. Yes. Bolero. Could he have chosen a more obvious and erotic piece to play on the CD player? Bastard. It’s my car, by the way. He’s driving it because he says I drive like his mom and he’d like to get to the cabin sometime this year, and he’s choosing the music. What’s wrong with this picture?

“Okay for about another 100 miles or so.”

Fuck.

I sigh dramatically and stare out of the side window in a wistful, enigmatic way. If this was a movie, I’d be shot in black and white. The wind would blow tantalizingly through my hair. Maybe a few drops of rain would edge sadly down the window, serving only to emphasize the isolated and deeply-rooted loneliness and unhappiness of the beautiful man in the frame.

God, I love me when I’m being deep. I can be deeper than Teal’c any day of the week. Just don’t tell him I said that.

“Pity.”

“Why?”

He knows why. And, truth be told, he’s as desperate for it as I am. He just likes playing the game. The “I love to pretend that I have no idea you’re hard for me” game. It gets him hard and makes the eventual sex even hotter and messier. I repeat. Bastard.

“Because I need a coffee and a pee, probably in reverse order.” And to jerk you off and feel your come drip through my fingers and kiss the living fuck out of you. Hooooornnnyyyyy.

He casts a sideways glance at me. “Didn’t you go before we left?”

Aaaagh. “I am not five years old, Jack.”

“Could have fooled me.” And he’s staring straight ahead through the windshield and turning up Bolero up to 11. It’s irresistible, that unrelenting, unchanging ostinato rhythm, building to the inevitable climax. Oh, christ, don’t think about climax. Don’tdon’tdon’t....

I shift in my seat and surreptitiously slide my hand over my groin, pushing the heel of my right hand into the bulge in my designer jeans. God, that feels good, just a little pressure, just a little, not too much, not jerking myself through the denim here, no sirree Bob. Must ... stop. Must ...

“Stop!”

Jack’s reaction time would put a 100 metre sprinter on the blocks to shame and he slams on the brakes. Luckily, the street behind us in this small town that I don’t know the name of is clear of traffic.

“What?”

“Gas. Coffee. Pee. Now.” I point to the Shell station across the street.

He sighs heavily, then smirks because, foolishly, I’ve left my hand on the bulge in my pants and he’s seen it.

He turns the car onto the forecourt, the flat of one hand turning the steering wheel, and that makes me harder. He’s so nonchalantly in control. Oooh. He’s like that in bed sometimes. He handles me with an ease and assurance and that makes me melt into the mattress while he’s fucking me with strong “I’m in command” strokes. Crap ... don’t think about jolting the springs until they squeak like a wonky shopping cart wheel. Don’t think about how he makes me moan and clutch the sheets and ...

“Coming?”

Very probably yes.

“Um, what?”

“Daniel. I have pulled the truck over as requested. I’m gonna fill her up.” I’d rather you filled me up. “Then I’m gonna get coffee and a sandwich. Coming with?” He turns towards me and pulls off his shades, niiiiiice and slow in a “Why, Dr. Jackson, I’ve never really noticed before but you really are handsome and beautiful and fuckable” moment. “You need anything?”

YES!!!! Get out of the truck, meet me in the men’s room and jerk me to orgasm in twenty seconds flat you teasing, flirting son of a ...

“I’m just going to ...” and I wave a hand in the general direction of the toilets.

The smile he gives me as he puts his glasses back on is slow and sexy and full of dirty, dirty promise.

He opens the door, gets out of the truck and hunts out his credit card before pumping the gas. Pretty soon he’ll be pumping me. Hooray and hurrah!

I slide out of the car, and wander towards the men’s room in what I think is a very leisurely manner but is probably more like Usain Bolt after Olympic gold. Inside, there are four stalls which, as luck would have it, are all empty.

Without realizing it, my hand has reached down and is rubbing my erection. How long can it possibly take to fill the gas tank, buy coffee and choose between tuna and mayo and cheese salad? Not this long surely.

And then, I hear feet approaching fast and then he’s through the door and he’s pushing me into the far cubicle and slamming the door shut and reaching for my zipper and mumbling, “Fuck, get it out, come on Daniel, I want it in my hand, want your cock...” Hmmm. Nice, he’s being masterful and I don’t mind being squashed between the toilet and the wall one little bit, not when he’s reaching into my briefs and pulling me out and ohhhh, jerking me with those strong, capable fingers.

“Ngggh,” I say, intelligently, and scramble for his zipper and then fumble a bit because I’m completely un-coordinated for some unfathomable reason. But, eventually, I pull his cock clear of his plaid boxers (oh, nooooooo, they’re awful, unsexy to the max, good job I find him uber-sexy regardless) and he’s hard and ohgodohgod leaking already.

He grunts and pulls me closer with a hand on the back of my neck and I mirror his actions, and then we’re pulling and jerking and we’re both straining to get off and it’s wonderful and fast and so fucking illicit and, and I’m running out of those, um, things that I work with ... what are they? Words!

He rests his forehead against mine and kind of nuzzles and pushes at the same time ... all loving and nasty and romantic and harsh all at the same time ... and he’s giving me a running commentary, which he knows sends me there. “Yeah, yeah, come on, come on, give it up, I want it. I want you to come in my hand, spill over my .... hnngggg ... harder, come on, jerk me, fuck ... harder, wanna come all over you.”

Ohhh, god.

Talking dirty is the biggest turn-on. When we first started sleeping together (and there wasn’t much sleeping involved at all, actually) Jack was all tender ministrations and gentle words of love and affection. And then, when he heard the words “suck me” and “fuck me harder” and the like issue forth from my mouth, he let himself go and we’ve never looked back on the talking in bed potty mouth front.

I’m getting hot and sweaty and kind of losing it here. Were whipping each other’s cocks fast and without finesse but it feels so good.

I miss him so much and I love him so much and I need him to come so badly.

“Yeah, yeah, guh, nearly there, oh shit, Daniel, come first, baby. Come for me. I need to know you’re okay. I was so fucking scared when you were , oh, oh oh, gone. Come on Daniel, come for me.”

And I do. I moan so loud and come so hard I almost black out, and just as I feel my vision graying, I feel his cock pulse in my hand and he spills. It’s sticky and warm and it’s blissful and I long to go down on my knees and lick him clean, hold is ass in my hands and squeeze and run my tongue the length of his shaft.

I want to love him.

We’re both panting, and Jack’s nuzzling some more, this time with an amazing tenderness.

We’re still holding each other’s cocks, gently drawing out the last drops, trying to make sure the orgasm never ends.

“Oh god,” I say, my extensive vocabulary having deserted me for the moment.

“Yeah,” Jack says softly, pulling me upright and reaching behind me for some toilet paper. He goes to clean himself up, but I do it for him and then he wipes me. Then we flush the paper away and tuck each other in and simply look at each other.

His eyes are soft and happy and he’s smiling his smug bastard smile.

My eyes are misty and adoring and I’m smiling my sated lovelorn sap smile.

They complement each other rather nicely I think.

He leans in and kisses me, those thin lips unbelievably full and soft, and he whispers, “I love you” against my lips. And I open my mouth to his tongue and we explore mouths as though we have all the time in the world.

“You fill up with gas?” I ask.

“Yep.”

“Will you need to fill up again before we get there?”

“Yep.”

“Great,” I say, reaching past him to open the door. “Next time you get to be squished next to the toilet.”

ends

New Jack/Daniel fic

2009-08-16T20:23:52Z

A missing scene for Season Nine's Origin.

Between Two Places, Jack/Daniel, 2,714 words, rated adult.

For paian ... the scrufflet is all growed up and changed beyond recognition. :-)

Posted at my DW journal here

Archiving fic

2009-08-09T13:56:05Z

Posted at my DW journal for the insta-promptathon (yay!) to the prompt: fire.

Jack and Daniel, set during the ep One False Step

Night doesn’t so much fall on PJ2-445 as land with a resounding thud.

Carter and Fraiser have hightailed it back through the Gate with the latest alien to fall victim to ... whatever it is the bald, painted, naked alien guys are falling victim to, leaving Tea’c to kel-no-reem his way through the night watches that Daniel and I are sharing.

I tell Daniel, order him, if you will, to get some sleep, when I relieve him after first watch. I like him to take first watch, that way I can pack off him to bed and know he’ll get a few hours of uninterrupted rest. The guy has no sense of self-preservation. Unless you count shooting up a bucket full of infant Goa’uld. Which I don’t. Because that protects us all, not just him.

Anyway, he shifts on the log that passes for a seat and says he’s not tired and can he stay by the fire because it’s kind of cold and since he’s awake anyway he might as well write up some field notes. Persistent little bastard, Daniel. So I sigh, and put on my best “I shouldn’t really do this but” face, thus giving the false impression that I’m in charge around here, and instantly cave like a caving thing.

I can afford to be magnanimous. There is no threat to us here. Teal’c is sitting sentinel six feet away, my reliable-as-they-come back-up in all things. The aliens are getting sicker by the minute and tending to each other and I’m a selfish asshole who likes to sit beside Daniel and just ... be.

I poke at the campfire with a long stick, watch Daniel watching the fire and tapping his pencil on his knee. I like the way the firelight reflects in his glasses. It gives him a kind of other-worldly air. Which is, you know, appropriate, since this is another world.

He’s absorbed in his thoughts, shivering slightly in the night air but doesn’t seem to notice. He stops tapping the pencil, shuffles until he gets more comfortable and tilts the journal that’s lodging on his knees toward the light from the fire before he begins to scribble in that looping script of his. He mouths the words silently as he writes, which puts me in mind of a six-year-old learning his letters. I’m damn sure he isn’t aware he does it, and I’m not going to tell him. Carter thinks it’s cute. Daniel would die if he knew that. Think I might just store that up for use in future snippy exchanges. Just in case I need to put him in his place when he gets the better of me. Which he usually does.

“You’ll strain your eyes trying to write by this light,” I say, with just the right amount of gruffness and nary a hint of concern.

“It’s okay. I’m used to it. The light from kerosene lamps on digs isn’t much better. And, uh, my eyesight is shot already. It’s just a question of degree.”

He has this knack of sounding utterly disinterested when he’s talking to you while his mind is tackling a zillion other things at the same time.

“Yes. Well. Just make sure you eat extra carrots when we get home.” I stir the fire with some ferocity, causing the flames to shoot higher and the burning sticks to spit and crackle. It gives me something to think about rather than the warmth of Daniel’s shoulder where it’s touching mine and the peace I find in sharing the dark hours with him.
I sit entranced by the lick and play of the orange-blue flames. Minutes pass and I realize Daniel is transfixed, too. His breathing is steady and he’s huffing out clouds of condensed breath into the alien night. Actually, it doesn’t feel all that alien. That might be because Daniel’s sitting beside me, and wherever he happens to be is the nearest thing I have to home, since the woman who embodied the word finally gave up on us.

“Sha’uri used to sit for hours watching the night fires on Abydos,” he says. And I know that his heart and thoughts are on another alien world. I think, maybe, his thoughts are there a whole hell of a lot.

I don’t say anything. Just rest my arms on my knees, watch the fire and wait for Daniel to tell me more. If he wants to.

“She saw shapes in the flames all the time. She taught me the names of animals and birds that she said were to be found in the dancing streams of fire.” He smiles a small, achingly sad smile.

Fuck. I wish he wouldn’t let me see these glimpses of him. At moments like this, he’s still the guy who haunted the SGC halls because they didn’t know what to do with him.

I am very much afraid he haunts me now.

Like I said. Fuck.

I purse my lips and stare hard into the depths of the blaze.

“I got nothin’,” I say, because it’s flip and expected and not what I want to say. “Maybe an eagle.”

Daniel rests his head on his knees and peers more closely. “An eagle carrying Ganymedes to heaven,” he says softly.

“One of those myths you love so much?” I ask. I have another name for myths. Several actually, but I refrain from enlightening Daniel in the hope that he’ll talk some more.

“Carried off to be Zeus’s lover, or his cup bearer, depending on which tradition you prefer.”

“She was a looker then, huh?” Always rely on me to lower the tone.

“He. Frequently represented as a beautiful youth. Homer referred to him as ‘the loveliest born of the race of mortals.’”

“Ah.” Of course. Nothing’s as it seems with the Gods.

“He became immortal and exempt from old age,” Daniel adds, head tilting to one side. He sounds ... sad. Lost maybe.

“Good news for his knees, then.”

“Immortality’s over-rated. Why live forever when those you love die?”

The air is suddenly heavy, weighted down with unspoken thoughts and fears. He’s hurting. So damned much.

“We won’t stop looking, Daniel.”

He huffs out another breath, chases the white cloud with eyes that seem unnaturally bright.

“Thank you.” The words are whispered. He nods slightly.

I wish I could carry some of that pain for him. I wish I could spare him the sleepless nights and the pointless self-recrimination because I’ve been there and it’s a dark, lonely place.

Behind us, in the ... village ... if that’s what you can call it, a rising, high-pitched sound fills the air.

In unsion, we turn and look into the gloom.

“What the hell’s that?” The piercing noise is doing nothing for the headache that is beginning to form behind my eyes.

“I have no idea. Mourning, maybe. Healing.” I can feel the cogs whirring in his head. He’s happy to be distracted from the sad place he was in before.

“Wanna go check it out?” I know the answer before I’ve finished asking the question.

“Yeah. Okay.” Daniel hauls himself to his feet and before he’s taken three steps, Teal’c opens his eyes. He doesn’t ask permission, just looks at me in that maddeningly inscrutable way he has and rises gracefully to follow Daniel.
I turn back to face the fire, pick up a couple of sticks from the pile I collected earlier and throw them on. The blaze flares and subsides.

It’s colder somehow, without Daniel here.

But it’ll be dawn soon. Another day, another dollar.

I search of the fire for Daniel’s Ganymedes and his eagle. But all I see is shapeless blue and orange.

I decide to leave the rumors, lies and fairytales to Daniel. I’ll just get on with making his life a little less dark and lonely.

ends

Archiving fic

2009-08-09T13:52:55Z

Archiving a fic posted at DW's jackdanielpromptfic comm in response to this pic
It's adult-rated, Jack/Daniel, Sam POV.

Out of the Rain by jdjunkie

The front door of the beachside house was locked and, although she knocked twice, there was no answer.

Hefting her overnight bag higher onto her shoulder, she stepped back and considered her options. Dusk was beginning to settle, falling like a soft orange and gold sheet over the Californian coast. Towering cotton candy clouds out over the Pacific threatened rain later. A storm would be welcome, she guessed. Perhaps it would clear the stifling air.

She sighed. Maybe no one was home. She was early, after all. But then, she was always early. Military timekeeping was ingrained and it spilled into every other area of her life. She hated being late. It made her antsy. So, she was early. Two hours earlier than her ETA, to be precise.

She studied the house more closely. It struck her immediately as being designed with the ocean view in mind. It was pretty unprepossessing from the front. The stunning vistas meant the best rooms were out back, overlooking the water. Everything that mattered was at the rear of the property. It was single story, all wood and glass, with a deck running most of the way around, from what she could see. It reminded her of the Colonel’s place in the Springs. It wasn’t a showy house. Beachside it may have been, but Malibu it was not. It stood in a quiet position, a short walk from the small town the cab had passed through on the way here.

It was the perfect place to recover from the staff blast that had nearly taken him out and another that had killed Janet and left them all grieving. She shivered, pulled the sweater that was draped over her shoulders closer and tried not to think it about again. But it was hopeless. It was all she had been thinking about for the past two weeks.

Sam had lost her closest friend. Cassie had lost her mom. The SGC had lost a fine officer and a compassionate physician.

And Daniel ... Daniel had lost another little bit of his soul.

No wonder O’Neill had wanted to get him away. Daniel was hurting and haunted. Since the memorial service and funeral, he’d bricked himself up behind walls so high she hadn’t been able to reach him.

But O’Neill had kept chipping at the mortar, creating gaps in strategic points of the formidable edifice Daniel had created. They were all waiting for it to crumble.

“Come out to the coast. An old forces buddy has a house in California. It’s mine if I want it. We’ll all go. Spend some time together. God knows we’re owed leave. I can swing the time. We’ll fish, eat, drink, walk. ” Listen, heal, reconnect ... She’d watched Daniel’s reaction as O’Neill made his case over lunch for three in the subdued commissary last week. Teal’c was taking some personal time, talking Jaffa politics and the future with Bra’tac. He’d loved Janet, too.

Daniel winced as he considered O’Neill’s proposition. As though the words hurt and he didn’t know how to respond. As though maybe he wanted to say yes but couldn’t because everything was screwed and nothing could make it right.

O’Neill watched Daniel like a hawk while pretending to play with the potato and coleslaw on his plate.

“Carter? You game?” O’Neill forked some food into his mouth and chewed in desultory fashion. His eyes never met hers and she knew instinctively the answer he wanted from her.

It hurt. But then, everything hurt just now. “Actually, Sir, I could maybe get away for a couple of days.”

A muscle in his jaw clenched slightly. She could still surprise him, then. Keep him off-balance. She hugged that thought to herself. “It will be good for all of us to get away,” she said, using her most persuasive tone of voice. “ Come on, Daniel. You need a break, too.”

That muscle in O’Neill’s jaw relaxed a fraction.

Daniel sighed tiredly. “Thanks. But I can’t. Too much work,” he said, pushing congealed pasta around his own plate with no interest in eating it.

“All work and no play, Daniel,” O’Neill said, and there was an edge to his tone that sparked something in Sam, who flicked her gaze between the two men. They were sitting side by side, like maiden aunts on a train, but a world apart.

Daniel tensed but it was imperceptible, the only give-away sign the fingers that tightened on the fork.

“I’m sorry you find me so dull, Jack,” Daniel shot back, eyes fixed on his plate.

Sam shifted in her seat. She had no idea what was going on here, not sure she wanted to know, but there were unspoken words laced with pain hanging in the air and they were all hurting enough as it was.

“Please, Daniel.” She took a chance and reached across the table, placed her hand over the one holding Daniel’s fork. His skin was shockingly cold. “When was the last time we spent any time together? Cassie’s staying with a friend. She said she wanted a break from us. Me, actually. I think I’ve been over-compensating. I need to clear my head.” That should do it. Daniel always responded to the need in her.

He sighed again, more heavily this time. He was battle-savvy enough to know when the war was lost. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

The muscle in O’Neill’s jaw relaxed all the way.

As it turned out, the timing was off. Sam got drawn unexpectedly into research work at Groom Lake. But it was, at least, a welcome distraction from Janet. Sometimes, Sam went a whole three minutes without thinking about the tape of Janet’s death. Without hearing the searing sound of the blast that killed her and left Daniel screaming for help.

Pete wasn’t thrilled that she went away and that she was pretty much incommunicado, mainly through choice. She found it hard to talk to him about Janet and she wasn’t sure why. She wanted to open up, she did, but god, everything was just ... too raw and painful. And she couldn’t begin to explain to him what Janet had meant to her. She had the feeling she was being unfair to him. Pete was a cop. Cops had strong bonds, were tight with their fellow officers.

But ... this was Janet. The words just wouldn’t come. She was too accustomed to being emotionally self-sufficient. And she couldn’t spare the time or emotional energy to put that right. Daniel was in trouble. Daniel needed her, and while that was the case, her need to reach out to Pete was subsumed. She acknowledged an element of cowardice in that.

But Pete said he understood. And he’d be waiting. It was such a strange feeling, that certainty that someone would be there. It felt so good to know, and it made her feel worse about the way she knew she was handling this.

Welcome to my life.

Thanks to the work-induced delay, O’Neill and Daniel flew to California four days before she did. She was to join them for the last three days of leave.

And here she was. Early, even though she was four days late.

She leaned down and pulled off her sandals. She was by the beach, she might as well feel the sand between her toes. She walked down the side of the house, through dunes, enjoying the sharp feel of the small clumps of dune grass as they whipped at her legs. The sand was loose and warm. It felt good.

As she reached the edge of the dunes and the corner of the house, she could see a low light on in what was probably the living room. Above the soft shushing of the waves breaking behind her on the beach, she could hear mellow jazz playing quietly through an open window. She smiled. Had to be the Daniel’s choice.

She edged around the corner of the deck towards a small flight of steps that led up to a big, sliding glass door into the living room.

And she stopped dead in her tracks.

It was the sound that registered first; rhythmic grunts overlaid with a soft string of “Uh, uh, uhs” in counterpoint. It was unmistakable. It was so obvious, and, at the same time so unlikely, that she couldn’t process it. It didn’t compute.

Harsh, sexual, primal ... undeniably male sounds.

A loud inner voice told her to turn around. Just turn right around and leave. It probably wasn’t them. It could have been anyone. She’d got the wrong house. Guests she didn’t know anything about were taking advantage of their hosts taking a walk on the beach. Porn movie. They were watching for a joke. A dare. “Jeeze. Do they really do that? Man, my knees would never stand it.”

An even louder voice told her to stop being such a fucking ass.

Looking back, she realized that she knew what she was hearing and she knew who she was seeing before she’d even taken the three tentative, inevitable steps that took her into view.

The breeze from the ocean was blowing a soft drape back from the window. It fluttered against the glass like a sail against the rigging. It didn’t hide them like it should have done.

Idiots. Fucking idiots. People walked on this beach. They could be seen. Damn it, they should have been more careful . Any number of people were waiting in line to ruin them. They’d been trying for years.

And then she wasn’t thinking anymore. She was watching one of her closest friends riding the cock of her commanding officer. And it was stunning, and it was beautiful, a complete rebuttal of every pale fantasy and imagined longing she’d ever had for either of them.

She stepped back, eyes still fixed on the shifting silhouette. She couldn’t look away. She couldn’t obey the walk away, walk away, mantra that sang in her head. She sat down on the edge of a dune before her legs gave way.

O’Neill’s cock was thrusting up into Daniel in a steady rhythm. The colonel’s hands were tracing lazy trails on Daniel’s abs, then roaming down to clench on Daniel’s butt. Daniel’s head fell back and his mouth fell open. The “uh, uh” sounds were his. She could see Daniel quite clearly, could see the shape his body made as he moved on his lover ... his lover. As he made love. Because that’s what this was. Not some harsh, oh-god-you’re-alive fuck. She guessed they were past that and that they’d talked, or fucked, out whatever it was that had caused the tension she’d witnessed between them in recent days. This was intense, loving, shared pleasure. She could tell that much even without seeing O’Neill’s face clearly. It was hidden in shadow and she was grateful for that. She shouldn’t know what her CO looked like when he loved, even though she had once fantasized about knowing what Jack looked like.

Daniel’s body jerked faster, and he moved his head a little from side to side, distracted, lost. Lost in the feeling. Then he slowed, bent over O’Neill’s body and said something. He was panting. God, she thought, he’s going to come soon ...

Sam realized that Daniel was wearing his glasses, and somehow, that made it worse. This was “work Daniel,” the Daniel she shared off-world tents with and discussed reports with and sat across from in briefings.

Daniel Jackson and Colonel Jack O’Neill, her teammates, were fucking.

God.

O’Neill raised his head and their lips met in a long, deep kiss. O’Neill took Daniel’s head in his hands and stroked the hair from Daniel’s forehead. It was a simple, loving gesture and it spoke of an easy familiarity. They smiled, small, private, affectionate smiles, and then O’Neill said something and Daniel nodded and leaned back as O’Neill lay back down, his face hidden again, and resumed tight, sharp thrusts of his hips. It was graceful and terrible and still she could not look away.

Sam blinked and focused in on Daniel’s face. He looked ... happy. Through the stunned, shocked reactions chasing each other through her brain, that simple, startlingly obvious fact rose above them all.

Daniel looked happy.

Was this new? Had Janet’s death thrown Daniel and the Colonel together in a maelstrom of pain and love that resolved into physical release? There had always been something between them. Something that underpinned a relationship that always challenged her ... the half-finished yet somehow complete sentences; the mutually raised eyebrows that followed incomprehensible (to anyone else) arguments . Something. Perhaps what she was seeing now was inevitable.

Whatever it was, however long it had been going on, it was obvious that she was watching a manifestation of love, and that fact alone was enough to counter any incipient anger that might be brewing inside her.

Sam gripped the sleeves of the draped sweater on each shoulder, fisting the fabric tightly. She felt cold despite the warm, heavy, air.

Out at sea, there was a distant rumble of thunder and she laughed out loud. It was too funny. Crashing thunder and waves ... elemental backdrop to the kissing and loving ... how very Hollywood.

A flash of lightning illuminated Daniel’s face as he uttered a loud, “Ohhh,” and then another, the cries following sharp slapping sounds. She winced as the Colonel slapped Daniel’s ass and grunted out, “Yeah, fuck, yeah.”

Sam closed her eyes. This was too much. She’d seen too much. Heard too much.

She was shocked to find that she was massively turned on, a surge of sexual arousal overriding the slew of questions that were still fighting for attention: How long? How did it start? Was O’Neill, her erstwhile safe bet, involved with Daniel when they were playing their stupid game of flirting and dancing around inchoate feelings?

This was all too much. She was still reeling from Janet’s loss, all cried out. She couldn’t think straight. The first fat, hot drops of rain of the long-threatened storm began to fall. The strengthening wind blew the rain onto the big window, and, from this distance, the rain became tears rolling down Daniel’s face as his body seized and spasmed and he came.

Sam rose to her feet, heart pounding and mind racing.

She fought for clarity of thought. She had just seen two of the men she loved and respected most sharing an act of love that would change the way she thought of their relationship - and their relationship with her - forever.

She needed space and time to think this through. Right now, she couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t seen what she’d just seen. She wasn’t that good an actress, but she wanted to be that good a friend, that much she knew, despite the shock.

She wanted to be glad for Daniel.

She needed Daniel to be happy.

She needed time to adjust.

Shaking her head, she took a deep breath and bent down to put her sandals back on and walked away from the house, angling through the dunes.

The rain was cleansing and it grounded her. The fact that her cotton dress clung uncomfortably didn’t seem to matter.

After walking for ten minutes, she came to the edge of the town and sought refuge in a coffee shop. It was warm and welcoming and the overstuffed armchairs and sofas looked comfortable and inviting. It was almost empty, just a young couple holding hands and giggling in the corner, and what looked like a fellow refugee from the storm sitting in a seat by the door reading a newspaper.

“Wow. Glad to get of the rain, huh?” the young barista asked, pouring a mug of steaming dark roast before she’d even asked for it.

Out of the rain.

Yeah.

“Something like that.” She found a smile from somewhere and took the first warming sip, cradling the warmth of the mug between chilled, shaking fingers.

“I can get you a towel or something,” he said.

God. She must look a sight. “It’s okay, thanks. I’m going to a friend’s house when I’ve finished this. It’s not far.” She raised her coffee and took another drink, slightly surprised to hear herself say that she was going back there. Because she was. She needed to know that everything was fine; to see for herself that Daniel was fine.

She sat on a sofa by the window and peered out into the growing gloom. A spectacular arc of blue lightning flashed between the clouds over the ocean. Raindrops chased each other down the window, distorting her reflection. She sipped thoughtfully and gratefully at the coffee. It was delicious. Daniel would have loved it.

She tightened her hold on the coffee cup and tried to order her thoughts. So much had changed in the past year and a half. She was forced to acknowledge that she didn’t accept change easily. Change unsettled her, threw in variables and uncertainties. She could deal with them in the context of her work, just not so much in her private life. They’d lost Daniel and struggled to assimilate a new member into the team. O’Neill had never fully accepted Jonas. He’d been hurting and insular and sometimes impossible to reach. My god ... had he lost his lover, not just a teammate?

And then they’d got Daniel back. He’d asked her, back on Vis Uban, when he was still struggling with who he was and had been, if there had ever been anything between them. She wondered if he’d asked the same question of the Colonel, and, if he’d asked, what the answer had been.

What she had seen this evening was throwing all her previous assumptions about the team dynamic into doubt and confusion. She would have to fight not to revise team history completely until she knew exactly what was going on with Daniel and the Colonel.

Would they tell her? Would they trust her to keep their secret? Was there a secret to keep? Perhaps what was happening now was the beginning and end of it; solace shared, nothing more nor less.

And if they didn’t come to her with this, would she be able to live with that? Too many questions were crowding in. She longed to be able to talk things through with Janet; they’d laugh and bitch and deal. That’s what they did.

Oh, Janet ...

Finishing the last mouthful of coffee, she had a sudden, overwhelming need to talk to Pete. That need felt strange but ... good.

Pete was waiting. And she needed him.

She pulled the cell phone from her bag and called up her address book. The first number, top of the list, was Janet’s. She licked her lips, clutched the phone tightly and came to a decision. It was something she’d have to do sometime. She scrolled through the options until she found delete. She pressed the button and Janet’s name vanished.

Sam sat for a moment, wondering if she was about to fall apart. But she’d cried her tears for Janet. Instead, she felt a tangible calmness descend. In many ways, Janet Fraiser, with her honey-toned laugh, bright smile and wicked sense of humor, would always be with her.

Perhaps, finally, she was learning to face change. And the biggest change of all, she wanted to make in herself.

Looking down at the phone, she hit the second name on her list, and when the call was answered said quietly, “Pete. Hi, it’s me. How are you? How was your day?”

As she talked, as she heard the love and relief in the voice on the other end of the phone, Sam ran a hand through her hair and smoothed it back into place. Began to get herself together in readiness for meeting Daniel and the Colonel.

It felt good to be out of the rain.

ends

Fic round-up from the thon

2009-08-08T11:57:35Z

A round-up of the fabulous 48-hour insta-thon fics, based around the single-word prompt, fire, is now posted at my DW journal.

Some absolutely terrific responses. I'm so thrilled!

Go here for the complete listing

Yay for our fandom. :-))

It's a thon .... oh noes

2009-08-06T10:53:16Z

Yes it is.
It's a thon.
And it's an insta-quick-post-it-don't-sweat-it athon.
For yonks now, I 've wanted to hold a thon for the writers on my flist. But I don't, I REALLY don't want folk to angst about it or spend days and months honing their jewelled words to perfection. I want to see what we can do using the same, single word as a prompt, and I want to see those results ASAP.
Now ... this is NOT complusory. I won't be offended if you don't take part. We all have Real Lives (yes we do, as much as we try to minimise their impact on our fannish fun) and this won't work for everyone.
But.
If you want to play, here's the plan.
I will run off to the Random Word Generator for a single-word prompt. Then, it's over to you writers. Write ten, 100, 1,000, a bazillion words ... however many or few as you see fit, 526 sounds nice ... to the said prompt. Then post the results at my place so that we can all share.
This is meant to be fast and fun.
No angsting on the part of the writer allowed. Jack/Daniel or Jack and Daniel or teamy goodness allowed. Any rating.
Just. Do. It.
Please post response over at my DW journal because the word count is soooo great. Yay!

And the prompt word is .... ::scuttles off to RWG:: .... FIRE That should spark a few ideas. Heh.

You have 48 hours people. Post until the end of Friday (whenever that day ends in your part of the world) and hopefully our readers will have something nice to read over the next couple of days and for the weekend, when I will do a round-up post.

So, writers, go forth and write.
Readers, prepare to wave pom poms and cheer.

::sits back and hopes she's not just made a total idiot of herself. Hee::

Call for recs ... and a fic idea

2009-08-01T14:44:47Z

I've just embarked on a West Wing re-watch and am falling in love with the show all over again. Sorkin ... I am yours. Call me anytime.

I have never read any fanfic and am now desperate for some Sam/Josh. Can anyone rec me any good authors or point me to comms etc? I'd be forever in your debt.

Also ... my spiffy fic idea is as follows: The all (partly) new Children of the Gods has reignited a desire I've had for a long time to write a Jack/Daniel coda for every SG-1 epsiode. Of course, I've already written some episode tags (gen and slash) but this would be a defined journey, from CotG to Unending. If I stop to think about it, it's daunting, but when I tell that part of my brain to shut the hell up, it's so, SO exciting.

I'm definitely going to do it. Not all at once, but as an ongoing project to dip in and out of.

And now I'm REALLY excited.

Squee.

New ficlet

2009-07-31T13:49:41Z

In response to this pic prompt I have written a 3,300-word entry at paian's JackDanielPromptFic comm at DW.

Go here to read.

The character POV is a massive departure for me, and there has been wibbling.

Thanks to paian and princessofg for listening, reassuring and making some terrific suggestions. I heart you both. :-)

100 words of happy

2009-07-30T10:50:02Z

Because nothing I'm writing is going right ...
Because I've been moaning about not being able to write happy lately ...
Because I LOVE Jack and Daniel being happy ...
I give you 100 words of Jack/Daniel adult-rated happiness ...
*throws rose petals and sings of rainbows and brown paper packages tied up with string and other such happy-inducing stuff*

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but sometimes I love this more than the sex,” Daniel panted, burrowing into Jack. He laid his head on Jack’s chest, loved the way the hair tickled his cheek. He settled, waiting for his dick to stop twitching with remembered arousal.

“Better than feeling my ass contract on your dick when I come?”

Bastard.

“Better than that second your dick shoots in my ass?”

Shitshitshit.

“Better than when I call you baby because I love you so much?”

Bastardshitfuck.

.....

“Yes.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Terrific lay, though.”

He fancied he felt Jack smile.

Re-cut, re-imagined, re-ally?

2009-07-26T13:34:35Z

Go beneath the cut for discussion of the all (partly) new Children of the Gods. Hence ... SPOILER ALERT.
There is good, there is bad, there is meh. And there is added patting!

First off, let me tell you how I approach this.
I am not a fan of revisionism. I firmly believe Lucas should be strung up by his scrotum for what he's done. This obsession with endless tweaking is anathema to me. But that could be down to my journalistic background. I write, I edit, I post. This applies to my fic. I also expect that's how everyone operates, which is ridiculous and unreasonable. But there you go.
This missive will appear in the form of a bullet-point summary, which means, among other things, that O'Neill will never read it.
I should point out that it's a while since I watched the original pilot, and some recollections may be vague. It may appear stream of consciousness stuff, ie, ill-planned and random. That's just the way my mind wanders, er, works. *g* It's neither long nor greatly in-depth, just some impressions.
So, caveats in place ... let us begin.

OVERALL THOUGHTS: The final cut is undeniably, visibly clearer. It's not grainy, the music doesn't wobble, the BDUs are green. The music is understated and appropriate (BBC take note, especially DW and the never-to-be-mentioned-again Torchwood). The dialogue is easier to hear. It looks good. It looks like a TV movie.

TEAL'C: Is it a good thing that CJ re-voiced his dialogue? I was sceptical. But it actually works well. It adds gravitas. We also get to see a lot more of Tealc's reaction to what is going on with regard to the choosing and snaking of victims. That works well. His motivation for betrayal is much clearer. The deeper voice, btw, also makes him more scary. What they did to Teal'c gets nothing but the thumbs-up from me.

HAMMOND: George seems a little tougher in the recut. They've cut a lot of exposition, so his speeches are shorter, making him appear very businesslike and, um, general-like. I miss him. A lot.

SAM: Hmmm. Carter. Well, it's well-known that they cut the reproductive organs speech. This does not make me squeak in feminist high dudgeonry. It was always out of character, given the early-seasons Sam we saw. Jack's comment that "I don't have a problem with women" is kind of redundant and a non sequitur, given the loss of Carter's feminist mini-rant. I have to say that I think Carter's arrival scene is butchered, and the impact of her arrival is lost, as we now see her appearing through the door behind Hammond. I liked her original entrance, framed in the doorway and then walking in. The new version is so low-key. Oh, and no Matt Mason reference either. Just a wry look. Then we have, oh lordy-lord, two, count them, lingering looks over the briefing room table between Jack and Sam. Sigh. There is no reason for slipping these in other than to say, "Look, people, it was there from the beginning!". Subtlety never was their strong point. Thankfully, there is no tinkly piano music. I choose to think the pair are sizing each other up, Sam thinking, "This is going to be interesting" and Jack thinking, "This could be interesting, if I can just get past the scientist thing."
Sam's role through the movie is curiously low-key.
Her MacGyver line was changed to "jury-rig". Carter's "You really will like me when you get to know me" line and Jack's rejoinder were cut, thus displeasing some shippers.
The Sam of the re-cut is more like the Sam of the series.

JACK AND DANIEL: What? You thought I'd deal with them separately? Pfft.
Daniel is front and centre. More so than in the original version, I think. Must be the change in angle of some of the scenes, coupled with the addition of a short briefing room scene and slighly longer version of the Jack and Daniel at Jack's house scene. Plus, the scene in the prison on Chulak is longer and opens on him. (This is a nice scene for Sam and Daniel, btw).
We lose a reaction shot from Jack when Daniel is saying farewell to the Abydonians, but I don't mind that because the emphasis is on a tightly-cut and emotional scene between Daniel and his people. It works well. We lose that cute little tongue-out moment from Daniel at the DHD when they come through the Gate to Chulak after the Jack and Daniel banter. Not so happy about that. But it's liveable with. We also lose Jack shouldering past Daniel to get to Skarra. I have mixed feelings about it, because it did highlight the tension between them. But It works OK as shown here. Jack's softer, "How are you doing, Daniel?" makes more sense when not preceded by the shoulder barge.
We gain ... LOTS OF SHOULDER PATTING! Jack pats Daniel on the shoulder several times. Can't stop touching him. Can't leave him alone. Heh.
The recut does put the emphasis on Jack and Daniel's growing friendship, I think. It firmly establishes their relationship, and I really, really appreciate that.
Brad acknowledges that the Jack and Daniel at Jack's house scene is his favourite. I don't usually agree with the man on much, but I agree on that. He also says what a good job Michael does on the farewell to the Abydonians scene.
The recut is Jack and Daniel friendly.
That makes me a happy a camper.

IS IT BETTER THAN THE ORIGINAL: Yes and no. I like the charming clunkiness of certain aspects of CotG Mark I. It looks dated and occasionally sounds it, too. So what? I'm dated. Ageing is not necessarily a bad thing.
Given that Brad was trying to tighten things up, make it look more like a movie, I have to say he succeeded. The effects were souped-up, more up to date.
But ... it's lost a little something along the way.
It's a trade-off, I suppose. Is it a price worth paying? That's for the individual viewer to decide.

DID I WASTE MY £11?: No, I don't think so. But the proof of the pudding will be which version I pull out when I want to re-watch. Right now, I'm not sure. I want to watch Mark II again. Absorb it a little more. Try to put some distance between my affection for the original and my feelings on the new.

It was an interesting exercise. But I hope Brad doesn't repeat it. I don't want Fire and Water II, or Need II.
If he'd like to have another go at Divide and Conquer, however ... that would be fine. :-)