J/D—just barely | PG | Season 4-ish | 1,743 words
Summary: Coming home from a dirty, wet mission, the only thing on the minds of SG-1, including Teal’c, was that it was Christmas Eve, about to be Christmas Day. And Jack and Daniel had made plans. Now came the fluttery sensations in the stomach where nerves of steel used to be. Their first Christmas . . . together.
A little something thrown together at a moment’s whim at the Witching Hour on Christmas Day.
I’m not rereading or checking twice. I’m holding my nose and throwing this out into the world.
Daniel grabbed the grocery bag and headed to Jack’s front door. With a sharp rap, twice, he opened the door and shut it behind him. Snow fell from him onto the pebbled linoleum as he took off his coat, hat, and gloves.
“That better be you,” Jack said from the kitchen.
“It is I good sir,” Daniel said, deepening his voice and adopting an Oxford accent. “Leave me, take me back, haunt me no longer.”
Jack appeared in the dining room doorway, apron around his chest and waist, carrying a large ceramic mixing bowl. One hand held a large metal fork that was stuck into the middle of a batch of stuffing. “A Christmas Carol?” he asked with a grin.
Daniel grinned back. “It was either that or you’d listen to me endlessly repeat, ‘Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses?’ in response to catching the news earlier.”
Jack sighed and nodded. “Let’s just leave that at the door.”
“Done,” Daniel said and passed his hand over his hair to wipe the remaining snowflakes away as he bent to take up the grocery bag. He held it up.
Jack sighed again. “Tell me you brought the stuff,” he demanded.
Daniel snorted. “C’mon,” he said and walked around Jack to enter the kitchen.
Jack watched him, allowing his eyes to drop to the man’s ass as his jeans showed off the play of muscles as he moved. A smirk formed on his face. “Nice jeans.”
Daniel eyed him over his shoulder as he set the bag on the counter. “Thanks,” he said as drily as he knew how.
The two men then moved about the kitchen easily, like old bachelors even though they’d both been married. Jack withdrew the spices from the grocery bag like a man who’d found buried treasure and turned to another bowl.
Daniel looked at the clock. 1:34 a.m. “I still could’ve picked up a pie. You know how long it’s gonna take to bake that?”
Jack threw him a grin. “Yes, but since we’re on ‘gate time, we’ve got all morning.”
Daniel looked and was relieved that Jack hadn’t opened the cans yet. “Listen . . . um . . .”
Jack set one of the cans of pumpkin filling down, his expression turning to dread. “What? You’re not leaving, are you?”
Daniel’s brows rose. “What? Oh, god no. It’s just that, I’m really not all that hungry.”
Jack deflated, sagging against the counter. “Crap.”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t be by the time you’re all done, especially since you won’t let me help. It’s just . . .”
Daniel reached into the blue sweatshirt hoodie’s right pocket and withdrew a small white box, affixed with a tiny red bow. He held it out. “Merry Christmas, Jack.”
Jack stared at the present and chewed at his lip as his gaze moved from the box to Daniel’s eyes. They looked particularly azure blue but that might have been because Daniel’s cheeks were still ruddy from the cold. “Didn’t we agree No Presents?” he asked as he turned to open a drawer and withdrew a small gift bag.
“Makes us liars,” Daniel grinned as he kept his hand held out until Jack walked over and they exchanged presents.
Daniel opened the bag as Jack opened the box. As they did so, Daniel felt his cheeks flame up more than the weather was capable of doing. He wasn’t sure what Jack was going to say or do but it was something he needed to get, to give him. Almost like a compulsion or one of those epiphanies. It was a ring. But it wasn’t large enough to put on a ring finger. It would fit just fine on his pinky though.
At first, when Jack saw the ring, he jumped to the most obvious conclusion until he realized that the ring wasn’t made of metal. Not gold or silver but black opal. One solid carving from the beautiful mineral. And it was smaller than the ring he used to wear but now kept in a small jewelry box in his bedroom dresser. He looked up as he removed the ring and set the box on the counter.
“A pinky ring?”
Daniel swallowed, momentarily forgetting about the gift bag he was holding. “I know we haven’t even . . . and there’s a long way to go before that ring stage. But I needed to get you that ring the moment I saw it.”
“It’s black opal,” Jack said, awed. “Do you know how much this form of opal costs?”
Daniel’s brows wrinkled. “Yes. And?”
“Nothing,” Jack said, blinking a few times. “It’s . . .” He sighed and said, “Thank you, Daniel.” Daniel just smiled and nodded. Jack slipped the ring onto his left pinky. It fit perfectly. “Lucky.” He then gestured with his other hand. “Well?”
Daniel looked in the bag, blinked, and withdrew a ring box. “Spooky,” he said.
“Right?” Jack asked nervously as Daniel opened the box.
The bag fell to the floor. It wasn’t a ring to wear. It was a pendant.
A pendant. An oval pendant. The stone wasn’t stone. It was amber, set in a silver frame. It held an insect. Daniel held the stone in his palm, staring at it. The last argument they’d had wasn’t really an argument. They’d started to watch Jurassic Park and Daniel had begun grimacing during the dig scene. The ‘argument’ had been one-sided, from Jack.
“Don’t tell me. This is full of inaccuracies. Daniel, have you ever heard of Suspension of Disbelief? Employ that and watch the film.”
And Daniel hadn’t argued back. He’d just done as Jack had asked of him because it had been their seventh date. And that had been two weeks ago. During the cave scene with the other digger and that idiot lawyer, Daniel had made some off-hand comment about how he’d once had a piece of amber that size and it held within it an ancient bee. But he’d lost the amber, having to sell most of his prize possessions after losing his apartment in New York. It was just an off-hand comment.
But Jack had stored it away. Which meant he’d been listening, paying attention.
Up to this moment, Daniel had made the assumption—justified from experience—that Jack rarely listened to a word he said if it had anything to do with science because he had a habit of lecturing, not talking.
“Thanks, Jack,” he said, and tears were threatening. He wrinkled his nose and made a great show of blinking a lot to push away the emotional reaction. It wouldn’t do. Be emotional to a point. Jack was a stoic’s wet dream and Daniel had no intention of allowing Jack to make fun of him. It’s what he would’ve done in the past before they’d both come to terms with their feelings for the other.
“Hey,” Jack said, walking over. He took the pendant and set it on the dining table, then slid one arm around Daniel’s waist to bring them close. Daniel’s eyes widened. Despite this technically being the eighth date, it was the first time Jack had lovingly touched him. See the bit about stoicism. “We’re allowed on Christmas to be a bit sappy,” Jack said.
Daniel only needed to look up without moving his head. He was only two inches shorter, after all. “I’d believe that only if we were actually loving each other on the physical side of—”
Jack leaned in and kissed him. It began with mouths closed but their lips parted like flowers drinking in the sun in the early morning. Then there came the taste and exploration and Daniel felt rooted to the floor, barely moving because his arousal was up in more ways than one. If he moved, the arousal would spike. Then Jack moved instead, turning his hips, and Daniel’s arms went around him as he deepened the kiss.
When they separated the kiss to breathe, Jack kept his eyes closed. “You know what I’d like to do now?”
“Is this a trick question?” Daniel asked, staring into his eyes. Jack gave him that smile. “I really hope that’s a trick question.”
Jack took hold of his right hand, rubbing the pinky ring against Daniel’s pinky. “It’s not.”
A whole other world began, Daniel thought, when Jack grew romantic halfway thru their binging on the warm pumpkin pie and fresh whipped cream. Well, romantic might not be the right term. Erotic would be more suitable, especially when the whipped cream was accidentally on purpose dropped onto Daniel’s bare chest.
After a while, Daniel decided to stop with old expectations. Jack was breaking them to bits. He was romantic, sly, witty, and a little bit of a goofball in bed. And it was just so . . . him.
Daniel scooped up a dollop of whipped cream on his fork and said, “The next time you’re eating pie in the mess hall, I’m going to think of this.”
“And when you look at me and smile cryptically, you’d better tone it down a few notches,” Jack said, looking only slightly serious.
Daniel made an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, I know. Can’t let everyone know.”
Jack took the pie plate and set it aside then wrapped Daniel up in his arms. “Hush. It’s our time now. Don’t go negative for at least three more days when we gotta go back to work.”
Daniel rubbed his nose against Jack’s. “Merry Christmas, Jack.” Jack returned the gesture. He started to say it back but Daniel cut him off. “No. That’s not . . . um . . . what I meant to say, actually.”
Jack held him tighter. “What did you mean to say?”
Daniel dropped the tone of his voice and half-whispered, “I love you.” Jack was quiet for a concerning amount of time. Daniel took in a long, deep breath. “Jack?”
“Merry Christmas, Daniel,” came the whispered reply against his neck. Then into his ear, “I love you, too.”