Feet Up

He had seen the movie enough times to lose taste for the humor. After all, Jim Carey could be a little too much in large doses. So, after watching it twice, he was enjoying the third running based on the reactions of his friends.

“This character is most perturbing O’Neill,” the Jaffa mentioned as Carey finished whirl-winding around and drawled out his hit line, ‘Smokin’!’

The strange green-faced man was currently reflected on Daniel’s glasses. “I’d say he’s more annoying than anything else. Jack, why don’t we just watch cable TV?”

Daniel had been complaining all day, for crying out loud! Thinking it was time for a little reminder, Jack cleared his throat.

“Daniel, certain people are bound by certain contracts when they cross my front door. If you’re Kinsey, you get shot –” Teal’c heard the distinct rumbling of a motorcycle and replaced his hat as he went to answer the door. “– Carter gets to stop calling me Sir. You – ” Jack practically poked Daniel’s nose. “ – No whining among other things.”

Daniel pouted and looked about to say something for a moment before actually saying it.

Jack fixed a semi-stern gaze on Daniel, matching his tone for the reply. “What did I just say?”

Daniel ignored the rhetorical question. “Besides, if you want to be technical, we came in through your patio door, not your front door, because you forgot your keys.”

Jack knew where they were: attached to the whole ring of compiled keys still waiting in the glove compartment of Daniel’s car – a car which was currently at a shop.

Daniel tipped his head with a gesticulate touché. ‘Battle won,’ Jack thought, ‘and just in time for dinner.’ Teal’c came back with the three pizza boxes along with drinks he had surely, and not at all self-consciously, rummaged for in Jack’s refrigerator.

While popping his Root Beer bottle open, Daniel resumed his petition for cable TV. Jack assured there was nothing good on, but Daniel wouldn’t call that a safe bet when Jack only checked ten out of the 80 channels he had. SG-1’s leader even managed to blame his 2IC for the “lack of proper entertainment,” as quoted by Teal’c.

“She was supposed to pick out the movie this time. This is what improv leads to.”

“MajorCarter had forewarned us of her absence in today’s event O’Neill. We could have found an appropriate vid-e-o with time.”

They were ruining Jack’s night of testing cheap comedy on the easiest targets available to him – them! How could you not wonder how a scholar and alien warrior would react to The Mask?

“Hey, this is supposed to be a rich, learning experience. Could you at least give it a chance to get to the best part? We must have missed half the movie already with all this arguing.”

“Hardly,” Teal’c intoned. Jack appeared offended at the bitterness in Teal’c’s voice.

“Bear with me T. And Daniel, stop picking at your pizza. You’re the one who wanted extra toppings.”

Daniel wiped his pizza-picking hand on a napkin, embarrassed when Teal’c had curiously turned to see. “It’s not that. I just don’t see why they have to put bits of onion and tomato under the cheese. You’d think if it’s sauce, there wouldn’t be so many chunks in it.”

“Have to tack up rules on the wall,” Jack mumbled as he turned the volume up on the TV and told his less-than-eager guests in a less-than-cordial way to be quiet.

Well, he didn’t know about Daniel or Teal’c but he was enjoying the movie. The expressions on his companions’ faces were priceless. The park scene had just passed where ‘The Mask’ had attempted to swoon Cameron Diaz. So far, he had seen expressions of distaste, confusion, momentary amusement (could’ve been bemusement again) and mainly just a simple display of put-upon patience. The police scene was coming into play and while it showed on the screen, all Jack could comment on was how he wished he could dance like that. Daniel merely said that the Cuban stereotype was refreshing. Teal’c reserved his opinions until after Jack turned the VCR off, leaving the screen an arrant blue.

Tossing the remote back onto the couch next to Daniel, Jack rocked forward to get to his feet.

“Well, all the poor quality is over and dealt with. Though I think you two should thank me for making you a part of the 90% of America that already saw this classic.”

“I have noticed the people of this country do not hesitate in ridiculing their authority figures, even if they are a dominant group such as your policemen,” Teal’c said with disapproval.

“Perhaps the people of other planets should employ this method to undermine the influence of false gods and system lords.” Teal’c’s lips slightly bent upwards, his tone light.

Daniel hadn’t participated in the exchange. For some reason he was frisking his pockets and had been doing that for the last few minutes. He had pushed his glasses off too.

“Huh?” There was that familiar preoccupied stare. And sans glasses, Daniel looked all the more like a kid who had been caught daydreaming during class. “Sure.”

“Danny, your glasses are on top of your head.” Jack pointed to the optic-wear perched just above Daniel’s tangle of bangs. Daniel rolled his eyes and told them he was trying to find a cleanser for his lenses that he was sure had been in his jacket pocket.

“You’ve got an extra one of those thingamajigs in the bedroom – your bedroom.” When your ‘guest’ stayed frequently, he stopped being a guest and moreover, the guestroom lost its first syllable and was replaced by a suitable pronoun. Your/His/Daniel’s room.

“Really?” Daniel went down the hall; Jack and Teal’c headed in the opposite direction towards the kitchen after both cleared the coffee table of a few littered items. Teal’c mentioned he was leaving soon but wanted ‘helpings of preserved foods for the road.’

Jack threw the bottles into a bin and turned to find Teal’c eyeing a bag of donuts, which the Colonel didn’t remember buying. So that was the lump in Daniel’s jacket. Jelly that must have seeped from a donut had made a stain-blotch on the bag. The trip over the flowerbed must have done that when he fell in my neighbor’s backyard. The fall would also explain why he needed to clean his glasses. But right now the jelly stain was calling out to Teal’c, like blood to a predator.

“Come on T. I’ll grab the plates, you get the donuts.” No sooner had Jack said it that Teal’c grabbed the bag and led Jack back to the living room. Daniel was already there reading a TV guide on the couch. “Oh, Daniel? Are those yours?” Jack let Daniel interpret the head jerk he gave in Teal’c’s direction. The blob on the white bag was hard to miss.

“Had you forgotten your placement of them in the kitchen DanielJackson?” Teal’c sounded like he was willing to forgive Daniel if he answered in the affirmative.

“They’re jelly roles.” At Jack’s prompting look he continued, uplifting himself a bit with a knee on the couch. “I thought the crumbs and filling would make a mess in the living room.” Daniel still had his ‘careful guest’ moments, particularly with tidiness.

“We’ve got the plates covered, Daniel. Besides, this floor has seen everything.”

Settled comfortably around the TV once again, the three teammates ate as the movie rewound and the evening sun surrendered sky vigilance to the moon. Teal’c thought of how walls heard everything and floors saw everything. It only took him a minute to finish the donut and yet he ate cleanly. Daniel, however, had a smudge on his chin. Jack was looking at the youngest member with fondness, again thinking of how much of a kid Daniel was.

After talking a bit more about the absurdity of the movie they had part-way seen, Teal’c stood and went to retrieve his things, both from the kitchen and from the coat-stand by the door.

“It was unfortunate that MajorCarter could not join us. I enjoyed this time together O’Neill, DanielJackson.” He bowed his head faintly toward each of them in turn. “I look forward to our next bonding session. Perhaps I will bring the film footage for that occasion.”

Daniel didn’t even bother to ask about that one. Neither did Teal’c; he simply nodded and exited the house. He had assured both of them he didn’t need a drive home and that a bus ride would be more convenient. He had said he had to make several stops along the way before meeting with a SF that would take him back to the compound. It was pretty certain those stops had more to do with food than anything else.

Daniel had gone back to reading the TV guide, squinting to make out the titles in the blue glow of the TV screen. Jack put the VHS away and turned a small lamp on when he noticed Daniel trying to read the magazine in the near darkness. Next, he plopped by his friend’s side, taking in the fact the scientist hadn’t bothered to change channel.

“Daniel, for someone who worries a whole lot about his glasses, it’s strange your actual eyes don’t matter as much.” Daniel glanced up at the accusation, one of many having to do with his self-care. Some nagging came from Janet, but most came from Jack.

“Yeah, now that I turned the lamp on. All the blank-channel light would probably give you a Poltergeist fit.”

“Huh?” He really had to learn to stop tossing those kinds of references out at Daniel after a long day at the Mountain.

“Never mind.” Jack set his feet on the long table in front of him, one over the other. “Whatcha’ got? Anything good on?”

“Noooo,” Daniel said with disappointment. He kept flipping back and forth between some pages until he gave up and placed the booklet aside. Jack then remembered that Friday there were always talk shows on at night. Grabbing the remote again, he surfed through the most popular channels. Daniel yawned, crossed his arms and huddled against the armrest. Jack didn’t much care for Leno or Letterman but it was better than arguing over what to see: hockey or the History Channel. This way both of them won…or lost as the case was.

He stopped clicking when he found two guys discussing language. The guys were eccentric enough to not bore and the subject was in Daniel’s court – they could settle on something good for both after all. Before settling back to rest his hands on his stomach, Jack asked if Daniel was comfortable. Daniel yawned and gave a very convincing ‘Mmm-hmm.’

Right. So the thing hadn’t turned out to be as linguistically professional as he first thought it to be. It only took a couple minutes for the two TV-men to start compiling what, in their opinion, were the best curse words from all over the globe. Daniel had lifted his head a bit at the first expletive but soon his head landed back onto the cushion pillowed against his head.

“Daniel, go to bed. You’re gonna get a taco neck if you stay in that position for too long. I would know.”

“I’m not that tired yet.” It was obvious Daniel was holding back another large yawn. It was also obvious he chose to sound reasonable to avoid sounding like he was making excuses. In an act of confirmation, he sat up and leant away from the cushion-y temptation.

“I can’t keep dragging you around to make sure you’ll sleep in an actual bed. As soon as you feel yourself nodding off, you’re outta here, got it?”

For a second, Daniel actually worried that Jack was going to throw him out on the street but then his stupor-fuddled brain found sense in time for him to give an annoyed ‘okay.’

“Good. You shouldn’t be falling asleep anyway. I think they’re getting ready for their great finish.” After a few minutes, Jack said he was keeping inventory and threatened that he would now know if Daniel were saying anything less than nice around him. Daniel sleepily countered that the men were citing modern idiom, not including the several dead languages he knew or the various dialects and slang words within those same languages, not to mention the Goa’uld tongue –

“I have Teal’c for that,” Jack hastily interrupted, as much in defense as to stop Daniel’s torrent of words. He should never be fooled with that whole ‘looking sleepy’ thing. Daniel was ready to talk, no matter what, so long as he was healthy. Once again, both turned to the TV. Before long, the show’s hosts had launched into a fast, tongue-tying song with the foul words as lyrics.

“Local channels,” Jack snorted. “I sure know how to pick ‘em, eh Dannboy?” Jack nudged Daniel playfully only to have his shoulder serve as a landing pad for the left side of Daniel’s face. He wasn’t too surprised but the thump was kind of hard. His archaeologist was so out of it. A few pokes at the remote control decided everything; a sport commentary was on, featuring recent hockey playoffs. Jack supposed their couch-potato time had protracted to another half hour.

It wasn’t exactly past Daniel’s bedtime, Jack inwardly teased, and the relaxation time was comfy. A little too comfy, Jack thought as the face slipped further into his shoulder and allergy-invoked snores were orchestrated. Careful to not jostle the snoring figure, Jack shifted a bit, eyes riveted on the screen. When the head drooped slightly, Jack unconsciously righted it with a gentle and slow half-shrug, accompanied by a steadying hand. When his fingers came in contact with the glasses’ ear stems, a swift adjustment was made then too. Daniel had a post-glasses-removal itch and now free of facial obstruction, rubbed his face against the material under him. Jack misinterpreted the gesture, thinking Daniel was wiping his nose on him, and grimaced. He hoped Daniel had no sudden urges to sneeze. On that note, he remembered some windows were left open and yanked the afghan off the couch, draping it over his archaeologist.

The commentary was halfway through when the phone rang. Jack didn’t recall the ring being so obnoxious. Quick to answer, even with 170 pounds leaning heavily against him, he cut the second ring short.

“It’s barely ten PM, Carter. The one who decided to conk out in front of the TV was Daniel.”

“Oh.” Ever the practical scientist, Sam took the fluffy word ‘Awww’ and condensed it into an angled cube of acknowledgement. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that tomorrow’s early meeting has been postponed until next week.”

“Two of SG-5’s members aren’t feeling so well. Janet wanted to run some tests first thing tomorrow.”

“Well, trust Frasier to make miracles vaccines.” He paused when Daniel shifted, continuing after the dead weight neatly settled against his side again. “They had you up for phone tree duty Carter?”

“No, sir, I’m actually with Janet at the moment and thought I’d catch all you three at the same time to tell you.”

“Goodnight Carter.” He hung up and looked at the telephone, noting how these calls between he and Carter were becoming more frequent. It was like this between typical teenagers, finding excuses to call one another. He could imagine it now…

“Yeah, hi Sir, it’s me, Carter. I forgot to write down the topic of today’s mission report, so I was hoping you could tell me what it was.”

“Oh – yeah. Thing is, I could use a little help too. Would you like to go over the report together, right before the meeting? Y’know, just so we don’t miss anything.”

Jack didn’t think teenagers exchanged those exact words, but he got that feeling nonetheless. He doubted anything would ever happen, though…

“Sometimes I get what you mean Daniel,” Jack said, with a look over at Daniel who still lay with a head dipped into Jack’s jacket-clad shoulder. “Protocol does suck.”

When Daniel opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that it was still dark out. The curtains were slightly open and…those curtains weren’t his. Turning to face the ceiling, he remembered how he had fallen asleep watching TV.

Asleep at his SG desk in front of the computer, asleep in his bedroom’s armchair with a book in hand or asleep on Jack’s sofa after being lulled by channel-surfing sounds – Take your pick, Daniel thought, annoyed with himself. He continued the inner dialogue of shame at having overstayed his welcome, even as he curled in comfort and made to go back to sleep. Except that – He arched his back slightly, feeling an itch near his waist. Once he reached behind him and found what felt like two bits of string, he pulled with the intention of discarding the irritating items. Daniel didn’t bother to wonder why the strings were on the bed in the first place. What he did wonder was why when he pulled, was his middle suddenly choked and his eyes popped open, as if what he held were actually drawstrings…?

Okaaay, why do I have these pajama pants on backwards? When did I even get these on?

“Okay Daniel, off to your chambers with you.” Jack took one step to cover the three stairs leading out of the living room. The groggy person following behind nearly slipped off the simple staircase. Jack patiently waited, taking his friend by the arm when Daniel narrowly missed a table because his eyes were busy being rubbed.

“Sleep deprivation catching up with you, Daniel?” It was part question and part admonishment.

They were finally in the guestroom and Jack was taking old sweats and a T-Shirt out of a drawer. Daniel yawned for what seemed to be the tenth time and sat down on the bed, already falling backwards.

“Whoa there.” Hands pulled him back into a sitting position. “Need to put these on first.”

Through squinted eyes Daniel took the clothes. That’s all he did, so Jack let out a sigh and instructed Daniel to raise his arms. Annoyed and more awake than before, Daniel drew both arms in through the sleeves and lifted. Jack gave a warm smirk at the jumble that formed, especially when Daniel decided to stick an arm out again. Without a teasing remark, though sorely tempting, the older man helped this way and that until not only was Daniel out of his shirt but he had the old and faded one on. Remembering his friend’s low tolerance for cold, Jack was in the process of putting a sweatshirt on Daniel when he heard a muffled word from beneath his ministrations.

“No, what I meant was –” Daniel gave a loud and extensive yawn. “I left the coffee on.”

“When the hell did you manage to turn the coffee machine on?” But Jack didn’t let Daniel give an answer. “Wait, let me guess. It’s the first thing you did when you came in, wasn’t it?”

Jack didn’t need an answer to that either and apparently Daniel wasn’t going to give him one anyway. The archaeologist was steadily becoming a zombie again.

“I’ll turn the machine off then.” He grabbed the sweats and tossed them right next to Daniel. “There ya go.”

Jack was gone for several minutes, knocking before he re-entered the room to give Daniel a heads-up. To his relief, Daniel half-passed the test. Shoes had come off (Jack wouldn’t be too surprised if Daniel yanked the sweats past the shoes and slept with those on) and the PJ bottoms were on. However, the linguist was sprawled on top of the covers, not under them. And also…

“You always forget these,” Jack lightly chided, removing the glasses from Daniel’s face for the second time that evening. Taking a spare blanket from the closet, Jack stretched it over his young friend’s prone form, tucking the edges in.

The colonel closed the door behind him quietly, and went into his own bedroom where he changed and prepped for sleep. Once laid down, he let out a small laugh. The fact that Daniel had put his pajama pants on backwards had not gone unnoticed.

Though it wasn’t the first time Jack had quite literally ‘tucked’ him in, Daniel was still surprised each time it happened. On road trips Daniel would nod off or on off-world missions he’d be the first to finish his watch. He’d wake up, expecting to have his means of warmth thrown off or tangled. Instead, over-sized jackets or sleeping-bags were wrapped around him. Once he even discovered an extra pair of socks was on his feet. Never mind that without the minor details, Jack was always the one to order him to sleep in the first place, pointing a directing finger at the nearest bed or makeshift one. Daniel didn’t know what to make of it…

His eyes were drooping again, body automatically pulling in the blanket from all angles to absorb heat.

He was between a dream and consciousness when the sound of an explosion jarred him into wakefulness. Sitting up, with eyes darting all over the room and past the slit of the curtains, Daniel tried to make sense of the sound.

A car back-firing? Yeah, most likely. With that, Daniel put his head on the pillow again, closing his eyes and clearing a non-existent taste out of his mouth. Always better than a gun firing.

Daniel twitched when an abrupt sound was heard a little ways beyond his room. He was about to get up, worried someone had broken into the house, when a sliver of light appeared under his door. Daniel could hear Jack’s voice but couldn’t make out the words. As usual, Jack’s tone was enough – he was angry about something.

Oh God, Daniel realized. The noise, it sounded like a gunshot. Daniel knew too well what imagination did to you when you were half-asleep and an element of a nightmare greeted you in consciousness. For Daniel the element was also a sound, the sound of collapse, of a heavy weight falling.

And so, Daniel lay there, worrying about Jack, hearing his friend putting around the rooms to keep himself from being reminded of… the past. Still, even in his worry, Daniel couldn’t help being coaxed back into sleep by hearing Jack seemingly marching outside in the living room. Before Daniel closed his eyes, he saw the stretch of light on his floor sporadically intercepted by Jack’s footstep shadows. It was like in off-world situations at night – Jack keeping guard. Keeping everything safe.

Jack had woken up, heartbeat pummeling his chest, hands clutching and fisting the comforter around him. For a second he had been transported back into a moment from 3 years back. But enough was enough.

Feet met the floor, dismissing the bedside flip-flops. A now steady hand opened the door in time for the feet to resume their calculated pace without pause. The discrepancy came when Jack leaned tiredly against a cabinet and a perched book fell over. Stupidly, he considered the dull thump an invasion, a taunting interruption. But isn’t that what he wanted, an interruption so these thoughts could be shoved off the precipice of his awareness?

He first moved to see the sky, to estimate what time it was, until he remembered he had a large clock in the living room area. Looking at the stars just had a calming effect on him, even in moments like these. Next he grabbed some water from the kitchen, leaving the glass on different spots while he took long strides across the wooden floors. He’d grab the glass, drink a little more and then leave it on top of another furniture piece, all in plan to keep him moving. After some minutes, a light coating of calm reached his surface, not quite soaking in, but it was a start.

As if coming back to the present, Jack looked towards the room that held what he hoped was a slumbering archaeologist. Surely, the loud car emission had woken Daniel up, but since then he could have fallen asleep, unless Jack’s restlessness kept him awake. Running his hand through graying-brown spikes, the gruff man went to check on his charge.

Gazing down at his best friend’s curled posture and his face outlined by blankets and pillows, the calmness spread more. An edge of the blanket had folded over and was partly covering the youthful face, as was the bout of fringes hanging just over Daniel’s brow.

Jack carefully pushed the edge of the blanket away from Daniel’s face. With gentleness and affection, the bangs were brushed away next. Face now free of cover, the closed eyes moved perceptibly. Thinking the light shining past the door was the problem, Jack moved to block it. Then, on a whim of nostalgia and paternal reflection, Jack kissed his open hand and laid it on Daniel’s head, mindful not to rouse him.

The door was softly closed once more, the lights turned off and Jack’s footsteps faded down the hallway.

Daniel swallowed with effort, overwhelmed by what had just happened, not sure if he was glad having faked being asleep.

I just remembered it’s Fall, around the time Charlie died. The memory must have hit Jack harder than usual.

No one’s done that since… He remembered how his parents had dropped kisses on his head or had rested a hand on his hair while he sat next to them. Jack had found a way to do both in a single gesture. It was the man who argued with him on a casual basis, who was condescending and could forget to show respect and trust. But he was also the man who Daniel admired the most, who inspired the most confidence when situations were out of hand. He also instilled the most confidence in Daniel with words like “You did good” and “Welcome back.” He secretly found it comforting to know Jack worried about him and could, one day, maybe, be proud of him.

Daniel thought about this room, how he had taken to it: His door, his bed, his room. Jack enjoyed saying things like “you’re living under my roof.” And even on the SGC base and off-world and in Daniel’s own apartment, Jack monitored and ordered around and protected and acted as if he were his fath–

Daniel rolled onto his back and smiled a little. Yes, he was surprised to find covers tucked around him when he woke up, or find he was being grabbed by the scruff of the neck as he tried to get 5 measly steps ahead, or find Jack on his doorstep when he was sick (already asking him why he got out of bed to answer the door). But he was also coming to expect it. He even depended on it.

He guessed he knew how to feel about it now. He felt defensive, yet grateful. Embarrassed, yet comforted. Wary, yet settled.

He was a walking contradiction anyway; he’d heard it many times before. He’d keep hoping for a home, wishing this was it, with Jack and Sam and Teal’c. Along with his nightly ritual of hoping for Sha’re’s safe return, Daniel hoped for the certainty of belonging as he finally delved into deep and uninterrupted sleep.

Daniel exited the bedroom, hair still in disarray and followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen. He stopped short of completely coming into the kitchen when he found Jack already there, open newspaper hiding his face. Daniel suddenly pictured Jack wearing a robe and smoking a pipe. Hearing the pitter-patter of bare feet approaching, Jack let the newspaper’s top half loll. Nope, no pipe, no robes.

“You woke up later than usual,” Jack said. He got up and went to refill his cup of coffee, getting out another mug from the cupboard in the process.

Daniel sat down, noting a plate was set for him. The food was there on the table, portions obviously missing. The younger man saw there was a sole plate drying on the rack. Was Jack in a hurry?

“The meeting,” the linguist said aloud in dismay. Jack put both cups on the table and was sitting back down again. “We’re late.” Cup raised at nose level, Jack used his other hand to snag Daniel’s sweatshirt sleeve before he left the table.

“No we’re not. Carter called last night, saying the meeting was postponed.”

Daniel slowly sat back down, rolling back sleeves that were too long. One sleeve was now just a little more stretched than the other. “Well, that’s rare. Any idea why?”

“Two SG-5 guys are down, but it’s nothing serious,” Jack quickly reassured, ruining Daniel’s attempt to worry. Daniel nodded and used a hand to remove his glasses, promptly running the other hand over his eyes.

Daniel gave a small frown, preferring the term ‘tired’ to ‘sleepy’ and though either worked, he answered vaguely.

Before Daniel’s glare could reach him, Jack went back to hiding behind his newspaper. “Eat up” emitted as an invitation and order. With the fold of a page, a Special-Ops hand snuck one of the coffee mugs out of sight, to join Jack in the world of nationwide updates and old Garfield strips.

Daniel started piling his plate, stopping to scrunch his nose when one sleeve slipped down into the maple syrup that pooled around his stack of pancakes. Pushing the sleeves back again, he dug in. It seemed his starvation was also catching up with him. Luckily, Jack didn’t comment on it. All Daniel heard from Jack were ongoing sips.

When the last piece of pancake dabbed at the last puddle of syrup, Daniel took extra joy in the finishing bite. Heavy gulps of coffee followed. Yet, even after the reasonable breakfast, blue eyes were zeroing in on the cupboards beneath Jack’s sink.

“There’s Captain Crunch.” The playful quality to Jack’s voice made Daniel want to quip with an ‘oooo, where?’ Instead his brow slightly furrowed at the telepathic ability. Again, something he should be getting used to by now.

Daniel thought back to the explosive sound that had curtailed both their sleep, and wished Jack weren’t so quiet.

Daniel took his coffee cup for a second helping and set it down at the table. He’d let it cool while he got his cereal. Bowl filled, he was back at his chair. However, he sat straighter with the unwelcome sight of an empty mug in place of his coffee-topped one.

“Jaaack, you don’t even like black coffee,” Daniel accused. Jack finally set the newspaper down and coolly regarded Daniel over the brim of the filched cup.

“That’s why I added milk. Besides, the last time you were on caffeine overdrive this early, I did not have a fun trip to the base.”

The colonel set the mug down. “No. I don’t want you switching through 20 different radio stations in less than 30 seconds.”

“Then can we at least stop by Starbucks on the way? I can drink it in my office.” Jack didn’t know whether to perceive Daniel’s tactic as diplomacy or good ol’ bargaining.

“We could do that.” Jack made sure to sound the part of the authority that barely relented.

“And I’d like to step inside for a minute so I can get this coupon thing stamped.” Daniel offered an awkward grin when Jack’s narrowed eyes were directed at him. “Five marks and I get the sixth for free.”

“For cryin’ out loud…” came the somewhat predictable murmur. The brown eyes caught the fairly embarrassed gaze Daniel was giving the table top. He relented. “Yeah, sure.”

Daniel perked up, but before he could propose anything else, Jack mentioned that his cereal was getting soggy.

Jack brought the newspaper back up, with the ulterior motive of avoiding Daniel’s puppy-eyed requests. It wasn’t diplomacy or even bargaining – it was deception in the form of baby-blue eyes and wheedling tones.

The crunch of cereal and the flip of a page were the only sounds made for a minute’s time. Daniel’s newfound sense of belonging settled closer even as he glanced worriedly in Jack’s direction, wondering if his friend had rested at all.

Jack’s recurring hardship slowly dissipated back into his subconscious as he fondly considered Daniel, hoping the younger man had had a good night’s sleep.

It was a meditative silence that had predominated the early hour. But normalcy renewed the same way it had been interrupted – with an abrupt sound.

“Don’t tell me you’re cold,” Jack huffed, eyeing the floppy sweatshirt Daniel was still wearing.

“Yeah, I wake up, get out of bed, and start sneezing. It’s like I owe it to my body after a night’s worth of my nose collecting dust and things.”

“Great, both our places are unsanitary. Well, c’mon, we gotta go. Blow your nose, grab a shower and get changed.”

“In that order?” Daniel spooned the remains of the cereal, downing it with a poorly-concealed snarky look.

“Y’know, I may feel like taking the other route to the base, the one that doesn’t go by Starbucks.”

Daniel went back the way he came, Jack staying in the kitchen to clean up. A synchronized set of spoken “15 minutes” was said over both men’s shoulders, one coming out as an order, the other as a placation.

Daniel’s hand fiddled with the radio button, alternating stations and volume level.

The little needle scrolled across the number line, zipping through samples tastes of rap, opera and jazz.

Daniel left the buttons alone when he heard piano, the deep tones echoing against his right elbow where the speaker was. The piece sounded somber and depressing to Jack, so he reached over and pressed for something else. It was a different piano set this time, an electric kind that belonged to The Who’s “Baba O’Reilly.” Daniel switched the station again. Both hands froze over the radio when Joe Cocker’s “Little Help From My Friends” came on. Both glad with the choice of song, the music became a pleasant background.

Sometimes their matter of opinion was like this, the difference between flicking a switch up and down. The scientist flicked it up and the soldier immediately pushed it back down. The disagreement could be a game or it could be a full-fledged dilemma. But as professional or as personal as their problems went, they met half-way. Regret, patience, understanding, reaching – coming in one way or another, Jack and Daniel would meet eye to eye again by the end. They were team members, best friends and family.

The song ended and a poised hand cautiously approached the radio again. A few presses and –

Given the final warning, Daniel turned the thing off and plunked back against his seat. When Starbucks came into view, he had his window come down to catch a preliminary whiff of the place.

Jack saw Daniel had activated another button and thinking his young friend was messing around with the window to distract himself, he was ready to snap at him. “Daniel, this better be – ”

“Quick, I know,” the linguist interjected. “I won’t take long Jack. Did you want something?”

They were driving right outside the coffeehouse and Jack hadn’t noticed. Pulling in in time, Jack parked as close to the store as he could. Daniel was undoing his seatbelt as the colonel gave last-minute orders.

“And if you’re gonna get more than one coffee for yourself, get those disposable cup-holders so you don’t spill anything boiling on your hand.”

“What, it’s hot,” Jack defended. “Getting burned won’t get you a lawsuit anyway. I already tried it.”

“Jaaack!” Daniel flushed in embarrassment. “That was only one time,” he protested, once again reminded of the time a car had backed out and almost knocked him down. Granted, he had still landed on his butt but more out of surprise than of actual impact. Jack had exited the store in time to witness the stumble and the sight of oncoming cars hunting down parking spots, turning corners too quickly. When Daniel had straightened his glasses and looked up at the sound of horns blaring, he saw he wasn’t the target of the honks but that Jack was, standing right in front of a Suburban as if owning the whole lot. The dazed young man felt a sharp tug pulling him to his feet, a matching stride and grip dragging him, and was given a 15-minute lecture starting the moment he had his seat belt on in Jack’s car.

“One time was enough for me and my hair.” Daniel got out, knowing once Jack talked about his graying hair, he’d hear reminders of how he was to blame. He turned around to close the door to the car. “And Daniel…”

“Hm?” Now the linguist was the impatient one, eager for the beckoning coffee.

Laughing lightly, Daniel nodded once more and went into the store. Jack grinned when he saw his best friend actually check in both directions before walking across the parking lot.

Both men shared values and pains, and disagreed on all other kinds of philosophies. A close bond had been founded in Abydos from the first mission and their friendship was growing into a kin-like knot. It couldn’t be sure what would be proved or disproved as far as each hope and fear went, but they’d have plenty of missions, weekend visits, and out-of-town trips to figure it out. What became important from the minute SG-1 was formed, in its obviousness, was that Suicidal Jack and Orphaned Daniel were gone. Each had given the other a reason to be someone else, someone more.