Daniel frowned. What was that? That emotion he felt sweep through him. He’d never felt it before.
He continued to stare at Jack and Sam. They continued to talk and laugh.
They’d gone to an air-show over the weekend. They hadn’t invited Daniel. Why would they? He would’ve said no. Of course he would’ve. They were simply two Air Force officers enjoying a common passion.
…So what was that? It felt bad, whatever it was.
Sam threw her head back, laughing at something Jack said, touching his hand as he smirked.
There. That was it, Daniel realized with shock.
Daniel had never done this before. Courting. He smiled. A nice old fashioned word.
Sarah had pursued him. Shau’ri had been a gift. But Jack…
Jack would take some doing, he could see that now. Sam had all the advantages. Her sex, her profession, her background. Everything that was familiar to a man like Jack.
Daniel had to convince him to look beyond the obvious. Lucky for Daniel that was his job: getting people to think outside the box, nudging them toward epiphany.
Let’s see now, what stuff does Jack love that Sam doesn’t? Opera, baseball, beer… And maybe…geeky archeologists?
“Ow! Dammit, Jack!” Daniel rubbed his shin, glaring as Jack skated away, swinging his stick and laughing.
“Be merciful, O’Neill. This is DanielJackson’s first game.”
Jack only shrugged, shooting the puck off to Ferretti.
Daniel wobbled into position, gameplay starting again. Courting a man like Jack was hard work. Street hockey! Crap.
Suddenly the puck flew at him, followed closely by Jack. They impacted, tumbling to the grassy verge. Landing on the bottom, Daniel held still. Jack weighed him down, looking a little too closely, a little too long, almost puzzled.
“You okay, Danny?”
Oh yeah, Jack, doin’ fine.
“Hey, Daniel! More chips!”
“What?! Supper’s on the table!”
“But the game!”
“But the post-game rundown!”
“Just bring the grub out, we’ll eat on the coffee table.”
“Huh. It’s burning, whatever it is.”
“Vichyssoise is served cold, Jack. I, uh, lit some candles.”
“Yeah. I thought it would be…nice.”
“Candles don’t go with baseball.”
“The baseball wasn’t my idea, it was yours. I had hoped we could listen to a new recording of ‘Tosca’ I got. I thought you could explain the libretto to me and I could translate any Italian you didn’t know.”
“Daniel, you’re blushing.”
“Am not! Look, forget it. Stupid idea.”
“No. Here, TV’s off. Put on the CD.”
“I said forget it. It’s ruined anyhow.”
“What’s ruined? The food?”
“No, this! This was supposed to our first da--”
“…Our first what?”
“You *are* blushing.”
“Our first date? Is that what you were going to say?”
“Put on the opera, Danny. Let’s eat.”
What was up with Daniel?
Jack studied his teammate from across the candlelit supper table. Daniel seemed…different lately. Sure, he looked the same… Well, actually he was looking particularly good tonight. Freshly shaven, dressed in the black jeans Janet had given him on his last birthday, wearing a blue shirt that did something interesting to his eyes…
Jack cleared his throat, dropping his gaze and toying with his now empty soup bowl.
“What’s that about ‘Dissimilar beauties blended together’?” Daniel suddenly asked.
Jack cocked an ear to the Italian opera Daniel had put on in the living room. “Mario used another woman as a model for his painting of the Madonna,” he explained. “But even as he paints her portrait, his sole thoughts are of his true love, Tosca.”
Daniel listened to the strong tenor voice a moment more. Then he nodded, rose, and cleared the supper plates, the single candle dancing in his wake as he moved about.
They’d seen a lot of each other this last month or so, Jack suddenly realized. Funny how they’d kept ending up together. First Daniel had scored tickets for an Art Song Recital at the Caulkins Opera House. Then there was the Avalanches’ home game. And now this, this…date? Was that really the way Daniel thought of it?
Daniel returned from the kitchen, wearing oven-mitts to place two thick, steaming ceramic mugs down. “Baked Hot Chocolate,” he announced.
“Cold supper, hot dessert, huh?” Jack took a bite and groaned in appreciation.
In the opera, a soprano voice rose above the tenor. Daniel asked, “That’s Tosca?”
Listening, Daniel frowned. “‘Those sky-blue eyes,’” he quoted. “‘She taunts and mocks me.’ Why is Tosca saying that?”
“Well, she’s jealous.”
Spoon halfway to his mouth, Daniel paused, frown deepening. “Jealous?”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t need to be. She saw the painting and jumped to the wrong conclusion. Mario doesn’t really love that other woman, only Tosca.”
Daniel’s frown disappeared and the candlelight added warmth to a small smile that passed over his face. A Mona Lisa smile, Jack thought, returning a slightly puzzled smile of his own. What *was* it with Daniel tonight?
The chocolate got thicker and gooey-er the deeper Jack went. At the one-third mark he gave up. “My god, Daniel, how can you stand to eat this? My teeth are aching.”
Daniel raised his brows. “Perhaps it’s…an acquired taste?” He’d already finished his off, abandoning the spoon and using his hand to dig the last sticky bits out of the mug. He sucked his fingers clean and Jack involuntarily licked his own lips as he watched Daniel’s pink tongue flick out.
Putting his empty mug down, Daniel looked pointedly at Jack. “You’ve got a little piece of…” He waved a hand at his own face.
“Oh.” Jack rubbed a napkin over his cheek.
Daniel shook his head. “Here, let me.” He shifted from his seat across the table to the chair right next to Jack, pulling it closer still. He cupped Jack’s chin, tilting the colonel’s head a little, but instead of wiping Jack’s face with his fingers, Daniel leaned closer yet, parted his lips, and, very deliberately, ran his tongue straight up Jack’s stubbly cheek. Then he sat back slightly, not releasing his hold, and looked expectantly at Jack.
Jack sat frozen, his brain misfiring for a moment or two. “Daniel?”
“Did you just lick me?”
“Yes.” Backlit by the candle flame, Daniel’s face was obscured; flushed, but not with embarrassment, blown pupils rendering his blue eyes jet black.
“Coulda used a napkin,” Jack managed to croak.
“It was chocolate, Jack,” Daniel said in gentle reproof.
Jack tried to collect his wits, but Daniel’s fingers were hot as candle-wax on his skin and the opera pounded to the rhythm of the blood roaring in Jack’s ears. Jack moistened his lips and Daniel tracked the movement, the linguist’s gaze fastened on Jack’s mouth. “And chocolate is, uh…”
“An acquired taste, yes. Like so many things.”
Jack swallowed hard, finding himself unwilling to move out of Daniel’s hold. Then, not even recognizing his own voice in its sudden neediness, he whispered, “Danny?”
“Yes,” Daniel confirmed quietly and brought their lips whisper-close, Jack daring a lick of his own before the two men melted together, lips crushing and bruising, tongues curling and pulling, intertwining, creating an opus of their own, harmonizing and multiplying until the final emerged so much stronger and richer than it’s separate parts.
An unknown time later the two men broke apart, gasping.
“Our first kiss,” Daniel breathed.
And the smile Daniel bestowed on Jack wasn’t Mona Lisa-mysterious this time. It was sweet and it was generous and Jack knew exactly what it meant. He twined his fingers in Daniel’s hair and pulled him close again.
Daniel’s nude body lay washed with candle and stereo light; sweat, and semen, cooled on his and Jack’s heated skin.
How could Jack never have noticed how beautiful Daniel was? He stroked the archeologist’s kiss-reddened lips, sure that while tonight may have been their first time, it was just the beginning.
If only he was as articulate as Tosca and Mario…
Daniel smiled and translated the opera softly: “‘All joy and all desire for my being, are held in you as heat within flame.’”
Jack relaxed. “Yeah, what they said.” He leaned in for another kiss, murmuring, “Amazing how we just tumbled into this, huh?”
Daniel’s smile deepened. “Yeah, Jack, amazing.”
|Genres:||First Time, Romance|
|Summary:||Once Daniel realizes he wants Jack, nothing will stop him.|
Just a little bit of fun generated from AccDanCloset's inaugural challenge: first times. I strung six drabbles together to form a (primitive) storyline.