Even Archeologists Get the Blues

by The Grrrl

Title: Even Archeologists Get the Blues

Author: The Grrrl

Author's email: thegrrrl2002@gmail.com

Author's URL: http://thegrrrl2002.slashcity.org/

Archive: Ask first.

Fandom: Stargate SG-1

Pairing: Jack/Daniel

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Daniel's in a mood.

Notes: PWP, Established Relationship, challenge response: "Singin' the Blues"

"Hey, there you are," Daniel said as he walked into the kitchen. He absently brushed his lips across the top of Jack's head. Sunlight streamed into the kitchen, accentuating silvery highlights in gray hair. Any other time Daniel would have admired the sight. But this time Daniel merely slumped into a chair, resting his palms on the table.

Jack put down his paper, and regarded Daniel carefully. "Okay," he sighed. "What is it?"

"What?" Daniel replied, rubbing his hands on the tabletop. He was irked that Jack could pick up on his mood so quickly. Granted, he wasn't the world's greatest at dissembling, especially when it came to Jack, but still—

"The mood. What's up with the mood? Something happen that I don't know about?" Jack folded the newspaper, then stretching his long, lean body before leaning back to await Daniel's answer.

"What mood? What makes you think I'm in a mood?" For some reason he found the expectant look on Jack's face pretty damn annoying.

Jack waved a hand. "Precisely."

In a fit of pique Daniel decided to ignore him, picking up the discarded newspaper and making a show of reading the headlines. But he surreptitiously watched as Jack got up from the table, rummaged through the fridge, then return with a small blue bowl.

"Okay." Daniel put the newspaper down and grudgingly admitted, "I'm in a mood."

Jack nodded, his fingers drumming the side of the bowl. "You want to tell me what kind of mood?"

"Just," Daniel paused, thinking it over. "A mood. A blue mood."

Jack looked Daniel up and down, taking in Daniel's bluejeans, blue tee-shirt, blue socks. But he chose not to comment. "Got a reason for this blueness?" he inquired.

"Yeah, I do. The reason is—it's—everything. Everything we do." At Jack's raised brow Daniel hurriedly amended, "Not, like, us everything. That's not—well, that's not what I'm talking about."

Jack asked, "So what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the gate. Jack, we've been through that damn gate a million times, and what have we got to show for it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. We haven't defeated the Gou'ald, we haven't found any spectacular new technology that will help people here on earth—we just run around on other planets, get shot at, get snaked at, make enemies and, well, get killed on a regular basis. And that's it. What's the point of it all?" Daniel knew he might be overgeneralizing just a little, but still, he was in a mood, so he was allowed. It made him feel better. Marginally. "I just don't know why we bother. I don't know why I bother."

"The reason why we bother, Daniel," Jack said, a trifle pedantically, Daniel noted with irritation, "is so we can save the world." He pushed the bowl toward Daniel. "Blueberry?"

"Yadda yadda," Daniel said dismissively, grabbing a handful of berries. He knew he was being an ass, but couldn't help himself.

"I know you feel discouraged, but Daniel, really, we couldn't do it without you," Jack added, his voice suddenly gentle.

"Right," Daniel snorted. "You couldn't. Because I was the one who got the stupid gate open in the first place and started all this trouble." He popped a few berries in his mouth. They were surprisingly good, sweet and tart at the same time. "Would have been better off if Catherine had never found me."

"Hey," Jack said, "about that. Think about the alternate universes we visited. Where things were goin' to hell in a handbasket—"

"Oh, you mean the ones where you were making kissy-face with Sam?" Daniel honestly didn't mean to sound so snide, but that Sam/Jack shit had always pissed him off. Even before he and Jack were doing the kissy-face thing themselves.

Jack winced, then scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Yeah, yeah." At least he had the good grace to be embarrassed. "Thing is, in those other universes things weren't going real well and what was common denominator? A distinct lack of Daniel Jackson," Jack said proudly, emphasizing his point with a poke at Daniel's shoulder. "You're the one who made the difference. Here. In this very universe."

Daniel pursed his lips, thinking it over. "Teal'c," he announced suddenly.

"Where?" Jack turned, craning his head to peer out the window.

"No, no—" Daniel repressed a smile, "Teal'c — he wasn't with SGC in those other universes either. He could be the key, you know." Satisfied that his foul mood would remain intact, Daniel leaned back and propped a foot on the edge of Jack's chair.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Must you poke holes in all my theories?" he asked as he moved Daniel's foot from the edge of his chair and placed it in his lap.

Daniel blinked calmly, then answered, "Yes, Jack, I must."

"Well then maybe you both are equally important," Jack retorted. "Ever think of that?"

"Hey," Daniel protested, "I'm the one with the mood, remember?" Although he was a little distracted from his mood, what with Jack's hand sneaking up inside his pants leg like that, and cupping his calf like he owned it. "And anyway, we are talking about, uh, two, count 'em, two universes. Hardly a statistically significant sampling."

"Yadda yadda," Jack said to him. "That's not the point."

"Then, uh, then what is the point? Your point?" Daniel asked, as Jack changed tactics and began stroking the delicate arch of his foot. "You have a point, right? Because I know I have a point."

Maybe. He hoped Jack wouldn't ask him to explain it again, because Jack was pulling Daniel's sock off and cradling Daniel's bare foot in his hands. In his warm, strong hands. Daniel liked those hands, really really liked how they—

"Okay, Blue-Boy, " Jack said, startling Daniel from his musings. Jack squeezed Daniel's foot and began the foot massage anew. "You're feeling down. You think we haven't achieved a single thing of any import in our missions. That's perfectly valid. Sometimes I feel that way, too. But we have to keep plugging along, because believe it or not we are making progress, little by little. We just have to keep at it and not be discouraged."

Daniel nodded his head all through Jack's little rah-rah speech, still watching Jack's hands on his foot. "I don't know if I can, Jack, I can't help but think—" he started.

"Ah!" Jack exclaimed. "There's your problem."

"Huh?" Daniel asked, more confused than ever.

"You were thinking."


"Yes, thinking," Jack repeated.

Daniel scowled. "Of course I was thinking." He extracted his foot from Jack's lap. Those hands almost distracted him from his mood. "Just how am I supposed to stop thinking?"

Jack gripped the edge of the table and scooted his chair closer to Daniel's. "C'mere, I'll show you."

"What—" Daniel tried to say, but next thing he knew Jack's lips were on his. He put a hand on Jack's chest, registering a somewhat less-than-fierce protest.

"Jack," he complained when his mouth was freed. He licked his lips; Jack tasted of blueberries. "I'm being serious here," he insisted. He was, after all, in a mood. Wasn't he?

"So am I," Jack said gravely. He slid Daniel's glasses from his face, placing them on the table. "Very, very serious." He did look very serious as he took Daniel's head in his hands, leaned forward and kissed him again.

Daniel thought about what Jack had just said. He thought that perhaps it was something profound, oddly profound, about thinking and being and trying, but before he could contemplate it any further his mind started to unravel. Because Jack was kissing him so intently, sliding his tongue past Daniel's lips, sweeping through Daniel's mouth so seriously. And the way Jack kissed—kisses so sweet and demanding and gentle and harsh all at the same time, just like Jack himself—his kisses were everything Daniel loved about him. And during that sweet, harsh and everything else kind of kissing, Daniel's hand was still on Jack's chest, but now his fingers were slowly twisting, snake-like, in Jack's shirt, pulling them closer together so he could lean up against Jack.

Daniel gradually became aware of Jack's hot hand on his knee, then on his thigh, rubbing him, touching, stroking. Sliding as he stroked, further up on his leg, moving inexorably to its target, and whoa, Daniel hadn't even realized was hard, but yet there it was. And there Jack's hand was, squeezing his erection while Jack nibbled on his ear and it felt so bone-meltingly good that Daniel brain became completely unraveled, he couldn't think at all, he could only moan Jack's name. He did remember, as if from a great distance, that he wanted to make point about something. But maybe he could save that for later because really, he had no idea what the hell it could have been.

"Jack," he moaned again, putting his hand over Jack's as he squeezed.

"Mmm?" Jack chuckled softly in his ear. "Something you want, Danny?" His breath tickled Daniel's neck, adding to the heady sensation enveloping him.

"Oh," was all Daniel could say, because somehow his pants had gotten unzipped, and then Jack was sliding down to the floor to kneel at Daniel's feet. Daniel spread his legs wide, because ah, yes, that was what he wanted. He wanted Jack, he wanted Jack's mouth. Of course. He eagerly tugged at his clothes, helping to free his aching cock.

Jack rubbed his cheek against it, and Daniel pushed up into his face, wanting, needing. Because he was in a mood, right? Some sort of mood. Some sort of desperate, needy, horny mood. But here was Jack's mouth, so hot and wet and so damn good, engulfing him. "God, Jack, your mouth," Daniel said, breathlessly, "it's so—so—"

He had to grab the edge of the chair to keep from sliding off, because of the way his hips were moving. It was impossible to stop rocking and squirming with the way Jack's mouth was working him. But Jack, of course, held him steady, as he always did, his hands bracing Daniel's hips and he sucked and licked, putting pressure in all the right spots. It was just as astounding sight to see his red, hard cock disappear into Jack's mouth, and Daniel just stared, wide-eyed, mouth open and panting, watching until he was shaking and shivering from the sheer joy of it, until he couldn't hold on any longer. Throwing his head back, he smiled up at the blank, white ceiling before closing his eyes and letting go, coming with a small soft whimper at first, then groaning loudly as he pumped into Jack's mouth.

They sat quietly for a time afterwards, Daniel with his eyes closed, basking in the glow, Jack nuzzling his thigh and petting his stomach. Eventually Jack pushed himself up off the floor with a grunt, and when Daniel opened his eyes again, Jack was back in his chair, his knee bumping Daniel's. Looking, of course, smug and cocky as could be. But Daniel just smiled. "Hey," he said, licking his lips.

"Hey, yourself," Jack smiled back at him, eyes seeming as warm and soft as velvet.

Daniel leaned forward, pressing his lips against Jack's. "I think I do see your point," he murmured, licking Jack's lips before dipping his tongue into Jack's mouth.

"Really?" Jack sighed, as Daniel's hand found it's way into his lap. "I had a point?"

Daniel kissed Jack's cheek, his jaw, then gently bit Jack's neck. "Yes, and it was an excellent one. Now come here," Daniel said, pulling Jack closer and unbuttoning his pants. "Let me show you how it goes."

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