Finding Home

by The Grrrl

Title: Finding Home

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

Season/Spoilers: Season 7, 7.12 "Evolution Part 2."

Summary: Takes place after the events of 7.12 "Evolution Part 2." So, obviously, Daniel needs some comforting.

Notes: Schmoop alert. I couldn't help myself. A big thank you to Kylie Lee, for the quick beta, and for always making me smile. See, I'm being schmoopy even in the notes.

Daniel woke with a start, confused, uneasy. He was in a bed—a nice, comfortable bed, not the floor of some stinky hut. The sheets felt clean and soft, and his head was resting on a fluffy pillow. He breathed in deeply. The air was cool and fresh. He could smell pine trees and wood smoke, and the scent of laundry soap lingering on the sheets was familiar. Jack's house.

He rolled over, slowly, seeking Jack's warm body, his sore muscles protesting every move. No Jack, though. He was in bed alone.

He opened his eyes to see that the room was dark. The window shades were drawn and the only sound was rain beating on the window. Squinting at the clock, he saw that it was a little after five. He vaguely remembered Jack driving him home from the base. He had slept in the truck, he recalled, and awakened only briefly, just long enough to stagger into the house. He also remembered Jack's arms around him, hugging him warmly once inside, even though he was snappish and cranky.

Reluctant to remain in bed alone, Daniel found his glasses, then eased himself up with small groan. He dressed slowly, moving carefully, his entire body aching, punctuated by sharp stabbing pains in his injured leg, all thanks to Raphael and his cohorts. Even though it was over, even though he and Lee had survived, he remembered all too clearly his utter desperation. Their ill-fated escape, and their subsequent and surprising rescue, was all too fresh in his mind, along with that unacknowledged fear that after everything he had been through, after all the planets he'd visited, it was going to end pointlessly in some anonymous rebel camp in a South American jungle.

Daniel was able to put some weight on his injured leg, but not much. He found his crutches propped up by the door and grabbed them gratefully. He made his way into the living room, only to find it empty. Signs of Jack's presence were all around: a blazing fire in the fireplace, an empty beer bottle on the coffee table, newspaper pages scattered on the couch. He was puzzled until he heard the water running in the kitchen. His first impulse—to go to the kitchen and say good morning—was tempered by the fact that the kitchen was on the other side of the living room, and it might as well have been the other side of the world. He considered it briefly, then headed for the fireplace instead, drawn to the flames, the warmth. He put the crutches aside and eased himself to the floor. He sat, then immediately decided he'd much rather lie down for just a few minutes. The carpet was plush and soft, the fire warm and comforting. Before he knew it, his eyes were closing.

When he opened them again—he didn't know how much later—he saw the welcome sight of Jack standing over him, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.

"Daniel," Jack said, looking amused. "What are you doing here?"

"Very funny. You're such a shit," Daniel said, rousing himself enough to thump Jack's ankle with his knuckles. "I'm warming myself by the fire, that's what I'm doing." He yawned, rubbing his eyes, dislodging his glasses in the process.

Jack knelt beside him. He gently pulled the glasses from Daniel's face and said, "With your eyes closed? Looks more like you got out of bed too soon and then realized you needed a nap." He placed the glasses on the hearth, out of harm's way.

"I wasn't sleeping. Actually, I was looking for you," Daniel informed him.

"Oh yeah?" Jack asked, his expression carefully bland. "What for?"

"I have no idea."

Jack grinned, then bent down to brush his lips delicately against Daniel's. "You should still be in bed. You look like hell."

"Thank you." Daniel sighed, curving his hand around Jack's neck. "You should have been in bed with me then." He examined Jack's face, taking in the shadows under his eyes, the deep lines in his forehead. "When was the last time you got some sleep?"

Jack's lips pressed against his cheek. "During the debriefing," he said.

Turning his head, Daniel breathed in sharply as Jack nuzzled his ear, startled by the unexpectedly sharp pang of arousal. "What—what day is it anyway?" Daniel asked, running his fingers through Jack's short hair. It was all a blur, from the moment Jack had appeared, almost magically, in the jungle to save him. He had been helicoptered to a hospital, whisked off in a plane back to the mountain, and debriefed, then had scrambled furiously to record the lettering on the artifact before having to hand it over to Jacob.

"I don't know—maybe Thursday?" Jack mused.

"You think?" Daniel frowned, stilling his hand on Jack's head. Thursday didn't sound right.

"Maybe. Felt like forever, though. Maybe it's next year already, " Jack said. He licked Daniel's neck and lightly bit his skin.

"Mmm. Could be," Daniel answered, his uneasiness returning. "Thursday, huh?"

"What is it?" Jack raised his head, eyeing Daniel intently.

Daniel tried for evasive. "What's what?" he asked.

"Daniel," Jack said.

"Jack," Daniel answered, matching his tone.

Jack sat back, staring at him silently until Daniel relented. He closed his eyes wearily and admitted, "My leg, okay?"

"What about your leg?" Jack asked worriedly, touching Daniel's knee. "Is it getting worse? Should I call Janet?"

"No, no, it's not getting worse. It's feeling better." Daniel ran his hand along the length of his thigh. "It doesn't feel that bad at all. Janet said it was healing very quickly. I don't think she realized just how quickly. It's really only Thursday?"

"And this is a problem how?"

Daniel watched as realization dawned on Jack's face.

"Oh, crap. The artifact." Jack sat back, dismayed.

"Exactly. Telchak's device," Daniel said. "Jack, I saw what it did to Raphael and his people." Despite the heat from the fire, Daniel grew chilled, panic churning in his gut. He had endured withdrawal once, years ago. That was more than enough. "I don't want to—I didn't get exposed for very long, but—" He sat up, clutching Jack's forearm. "Am I acting—well, you know." It had been sheer agony. It had made him crazy enough to actually pull a gun on Jack. He could have killed Jack, right there in the stockroom.

"What?" Jack said, sliding an arm around Daniel's waist. "Crazy? Kind of flaky? Daniel, for you that's par for the course."

"Jack, please." He pressed his forehead against Jack's shoulder. He didn't want to suffer through that kind of pain again. He didn't want to go back to the base. He didn't want to deal with anything anymore. He just wanted to sit in front of the fire with Jack.

"Sorry, I know. Listen, you took that bullet in the leg five days ago," Jack told him, rubbing his back. "Fraiser knew that. If there was something weird about it, she would have noticed, right?"

"It's been five days already? Five days?" Daniel hadn't known that. His sense of time was all fucked up.

Jack nodded. "Five days."

"Oh." Daniel thought it over. Maybe it wasn't so wrong that his leg was feeling better. "So, am I acting like myself?"

"Overwhelmingly," Jack assured him, with a little too much certainty.

"My leg still hurts a little, you know," Daniel pointed out, more to convince himself than Jack. He touched his lower lip, rubbing it with one finger where it had been stitched. "This kind of hurts, too."

"That's good," Jack said. He frowned. "I think."

"If I start acting maniacal, you'll let me know?" Daniel asked. "I mean, more so than usual?"

"Yes, Daniel. Trust me, you'll be the first to know." Jack's voice was soothing, reassuring.

"Good." Daniel felt more tired than ever. He lay back down, pulling Jack down along with him. "Funny, how weird all this can get," he said. "I'm getting all freaked out because I don't hurt enough." He closed his eyes, reliving it once again—Raphael's relentless questioning, the repeated blows to his head, the shattering explosions of pain. "I wasn't that close to the device anyway," he said quietly. "And I still feel like me." It was more of a question than a statement.

Jack stretched out next to him, his body pressed against Daniel's side. He rubbed Daniel's chest, his hand moving in a slow circle. "Yup, feels like you, all right," he told Daniel.

Daniel opened one eye, appreciating the distraction. "You sure? Maybe you need to check a little more closely."

"Huh. Maybe you're right." Jack started to unbutton Daniel's shirt. "Let's see." He spread the shirt open as he unbuttoned, taking his time, making a show of examining Daniel's chest as he went along. When he finished, he pushed the open shirt off Daniel's body completely. He touched Daniel's chest again, fingers warm and gentle, and stroked the bare skin. His hand drifted down to Daniel's stomach, circled his navel, then drifted back upward again.

The heat of the fire on his skin, the heat of Jack's hand, the heat of Jack's gaze—all of it warmed Daniel. His body unwound under that slow, sure touch as it glided carefully over the bruised areas, never hurting, just soothing and relaxing, chasing away fears of withdrawal, wounds healing too fast, glowing alien boxes. Behind it all was that one unspoken acknowledgment—that he had come so close to never feeling Jack's touch again.

Jack leaned down and licked Daniel's lips, his tongue easing Daniel's mouth open. Daniel tasted him, finding him delicious, familiar. Jack licked the inside of his mouth, then Daniel's lips again, careful of the injured area.

"Tastes like Daniel," Jack murmured. Rubbing his nose against Daniel's cheek, he added, "Smells like Daniel, too." His hands still moved on Daniel's body, slow and gentle.

"Yeah?" Daniel asked, distracted, losing himself in the sensation. "You sure?"

Jack placed a kiss in the center of Daniel's chest. He moved to a nipple, lips hovering above for a long minute, then licked, tongue wet and warm. "Tastes just right."

Yes, it was just right—the feel of Jack's weight against his body, Jack's lips on his skin. Daniel moved restlessly, his cock beginning to fill as Jack breathed on his wet nipple. It was always that way with Jack. His touch could pull Daniel back together again. "This is right," he said, holding onto Jack's shoulders. This was what he had needed.

Jack mouthed his nipple, roughly this time. He rubbed his palm against Daniel's stomach, then eased it down under Daniel's pants, fingertips sliding though his pubic hair, reaching the base of his cock.

Daniel groaned, pulling knees up. His injured leg hurt as he bent it, but that didn't matter, the only thing that mattered was Jack. Jack's touch. "Please—" he said, only it came out more of a moan. Daniel reached for fly of his jeans, unfastening them, then pushed Jack's hand down onto his cock. Jack closed his hand around it, squeezing. His hand was firm and rough, and a warm glow of pleasure surged through Daniel's body. Daniel slid his hand up Jack's arm, feeling the muscles, Jack's strength. Feeling safe.

Jack raised his head from Daniel's chest, smiling sweetly, and Daniel thought that maybe he could get lost in that warm gaze, get swallowed up whole and never return. He rolled to face Jack, touching his body all over, sliding his hands from his hips to his shoulders. He had to push Jack's shirt up, so that he could touch that broad flat chest, those fascinating swirls of hair, feel the hard, tight nipples. He flattened his palms against the warm skin, connecting to Jack, the man who never ceased to amaze him, who would do anything to find him. Who loved him with an astounding fierceness.

And who was slowly driving him insane, his hand sliding slow and steady over Daniel's cock.

"God, Jack, you're just so—just keeping doing that," he sighed. He put a hand over Jack's, feeling his cock as it slid through Jack's fingers. Jack's knuckles pressed into his palm as he tightened his grip, but Jack refused to be hurried. Groaning, Daniel released his hand and buried his face in Jack's neck, breathing him. Jack smelled delicious, he smelled like sex, he smelled so utterly Jack—

With a gasp, Daniel reached for Jack's fly, struggling to unzip it. "Get this—help me with this—wait—I got it—" With Jack's help, he tugged the pants down, releasing Jack's eager cock, wrapping his fingers around the hard length. Jack moaned as Daniel's thumb rubbed the broad head.

"That's—oh—damn, Daniel." Jack pulled him closer, sliding his thigh between Daniel's legs. "Come here—get closer." They got a rhythm going, hips rocking, their hands moving on each other's cocks, their faces pressed together. Daniel wrapped one arm around Jack's shoulder, holding him tight. His leg hurt and his arm ached but he wasn't about to stop, not for anything in the world. He could feel Jack's breath, hot against his cheek, Jack's eyelashes tickling his forehead, and still they weren't close enough. Jack shifted again, wriggling even closer, until their hands bumped together and they were able to push their cocks right up against each other, thrusting through their entwined fingers.

"Yes—yes—just like that—Jack—" Daniel panted, his voice high and strained. "Don't stop."

"Not gonna," Jack gasped. "Ever. Hell no."

Daniel's balls were full and tight and he was getting closer, he was on the excruciating edge, and maybe he could just stay there forever in a sea of pleasure, but no, Jack just pulled it out of him with those fingers. Giving up, he shoved against Jack and came with a long moan, helpless as the luxurious waves of pleasure flowed through his body.

Their hands grew slippery and wet, and Daniel shivered through the aftershocks as Jack picked up speed, thrusting faster. Daniel closed his fist around Jack's slick, satiny shaft. "That's it, Jack, come on," he coaxed, his voice a whisper. His kissed Jack long and hard, ignoring the sharp pain in his lip. "Do it, let go."

"Oh, shit, Daniel," Jack cried out, his voice guttural and low, a tone that Daniel loved, the tone of voice that was just for him. He felt Jack's body start to shake, and then Jack convulsed and came, his cock jerking in Daniel's hand, warm liquid pouring out onto Daniel's stomach. Daniel held on, feeling Jack's body writhe with pleasure, then go limp and quiet in his arms. When was over he kissed Jack's sweaty face, gently, reverently. "Nice," Jack whispered, patting him with a damp hand.

Daniel let out a small laugh, because he was happy, because life was good. "Yeah, nice."

Jack laughed in return, and they both rolled onto their backs, hands clasped between them. Daniel stared at the ceiling as he listened to the fire crackling, the rain falling, the wind in the trees, and Jack's steady breathing. It was beautiful to be sprawled out on Jack's living room rug, sticky and messy and loved. It was beautiful to be back home. After a while he heard Jack sigh.

"Going to have to clean the damn rug again," he complained. "You always make such a mess." But he squeezed Daniel's hand as he spoke, and he didn't sound exactly upset.

"Like it's all my fault," Daniel said. He yawned and stretched, grunting as he straightened out his injured leg.

"You okay?" Jack asked, turning his head.

Daniel turned, and smiled into those warm brown eyes. "I'm okay." And he was, warm and relaxed, all the rough edges smoothed over. He was whole.

"But not too okay?"

"Nope," Daniel replied, "Not too." The fear was distant now, almost a silly thing, it seemed. Of course he hadn't been exposed to the device enough for it to affect him.

"Good." Jack nodded, and then grew serious. "And Daniel, don't ever do that hostage thing again." He sat up, and reached for the discarded dishtowel, casting a sidelong glance in Daniel's direction. "Okay?" he added quietly.

"Okay," Daniel told him. "If you insist." He watched as Jack wiped his hands. He reached out and touched Jack's arm gently. "Jack," he said, at a loss for words, unsure of what he was trying to say.

Jack put a hand over his. "I know, Daniel, I know."

"Good." Daniel nodded. "Good. Me, too."

"Let's go get some sleep, okay?" Jack asked, pulling him close and kissing his forehead. "Come on." Jack stood, then pulled Daniel to his feet.

Leaving the crutches behind, Daniel eased an arm around Jack's shoulders, and they slowly made their way into the bedroom. Together.

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