His mind raced. What had awakened him?

Small patches of images - static - short bursts, like a faulty television trying in vain to show the world its dying images, flickered across Philip's brain - making no sense at all to the terrified, confused man. He swallowed again, realizing that there was no spit to swallow then he reached out and felt for his glass in the dark. Taking slow slips, he finally felt refreshed enough to settle down again. Wide, unblinking eyes stared up at the ceiling which was barely visible in the dark room except for the slight flickering of a nearby shop front light that always flashed a weird green glow onto the corner of his room. Slowly, so slowly he wasn't even aware of it, Philip drifted back off to sleep.

When his eyes opened again it was morning. He heard the sounds of a typical Saturday in Colorado Springs. Shoppers, cars, buses rattling down the road, horns being in anger and in greeting, even the sounds of the hawkers calling out in the nearby marketplace. At a more leisurely pace this time, the dark eyes opened. He was staring at the window, seeing the gray day, yet knowing the sun was trying all it could to shine down on them. He recalled the strange occurrence in the night and tried to remember what it was he had dreamt about, but it escaped him in the light of day. Rolling onto his back slowly, he turned to look for Jack. His mouth, quivering ever so slightly with the confusion that still wracked his mind, curled into a warm smile as he saw the sleeping form of the man beside him. Shifting to prop himself up on his side, Philip reached out a hand, touching trembling fingers to the short gray hair. He looked at his hand, seeing it shake, and he realized that he felt it throughout his whole body. A tiny tremor, unexplainable, but most definitely there. Lifting his head slightly he could excuse the tremors as fatigue. He'd only had four hours of sleep but he didn't care. Looking at Jack's sleeping face again, he lightly ran his fingers over the brow line, tracing them down to the curve of his eye, then across the cheek bone, finally off into the hair to brush lightly across his ear. Still very much asleep, the colonel swatted at the touch, his eyes screwing tightly then releasing as soon as Philip took away the contact. Jack settled once more, and Philip laid his palm against the older man's ear and cheek, the firmer touch not attracting attention from the sleeping man.

With a shaky breath, Philip inhaled, letting his thumb brush the gentle curve of Jack's cheek bone. //What have we done?// he asked himself, for he wasn't sure he fully understood how a man he didn't know a little over twelve hours ago, had come to mean so much to him already. This man, this Colonel who had the power to destroy his brother's happiness with one look, was here - in Philip's bed - no where near the ogre he was expecting him to be. With another smile, not that the first ever left his face completely, Philip brushed his thumb across the tip of Jack's nose, then dropped it onto the bottom lip. The sleeping man flinched and Philip held his hand still until he felt he'd settled again.

Unable to resist, he reached forward, lightly laying his dry mouth over Jack's. He felt the lips peel apart as he slowly backed out of the kiss then he smiled as Jack rolled onto his back, one hand thrown across his stomach, one knee bent and his foot tucked under the knee of his extended leg. Philip looked down over the sleeping form. Over the tuft of gray hair, curly and stringy, sitting in a v-shaped valley between the pecs. A trail of silver and bronze hair arrowed down over the stomach, over the navel and under the waist of his boxer shorts. The legs of the shorts were caught up on one thigh just enough so that Philip could see the start of the hairs thickening towards the groin. Pure white flesh, exposed to the air and so tantalizingly soft to the touch, beckoned him. Reaching down, Philip kissed the inside of Jack's thigh, smelling the faint arousal as the groin twitched with the touch. He snaked his tongue over the hairs on the thigh, wishing he could rub his face in that deliciously soft part of Jack, but he didn't want to wake him. Not yet.

With no trace of tremble now, Philip tucked his hair behind his ear and eased himself out of the bed. He backed up to his desk, then sat on the stool, his hands held between his knees as he watched Jack sleep. Turning to the awaiting sketch pad, he reached for his pen then realized that the holder was gone. For a moment he wondered what had happened to it, then recalled the kiss, and the events that followed, with him flat on his back across this desk, smacking objects off as he grappled to grab hold of his mind, and anything that his hand could reach. Bending over, he scooped up a few of the fallen objects, replacing them into the jar he used as a holder then he reached for his favorite pencil and started the outline of the sleeping man.

Almost as if he knew he was being sketched, Jack moved again, now placing himself into a much more aesthetically pleasing position - from an artist's point of view! He was partially on his back, one arm stretched out and disappearing under Philip's pillow, the other lightly resting on his bare stomach. One leg was bent and the foot rested against his calf muscle, the angle of the knee no where near as severe as before. His face was towards him, seeming to capture what little light there was coming in from the gloomy day outside. Light rain fell against the glass pane, streaking it in rivers of water. Philip sat with his back against that backdrop as he sketched quickly, laying down the basis of the drawing, leaving it to fill in later. Ignoring the shorts that Jack was wearing, Philip sketched a flaccid shaft resting limply against a tuft of dark curls and onto the thigh. His breathing slowed as he recalled that shaft - the weight of it in his hand, the thickness of it within his fist.

He smiled to himself as he lifted one knee up to his chest, his heel barely on the edge of the stool he was on. Resting his chin onto his knee, he stared at the man in his bed. Colonel Jack O'Neill; a man clearly in his forties, a man with so much power at the Mountain that he intimidated his brother out of a relationship merely by looking at him. Colonel Jack O'Neill; the man that showed Philip that for one night, he *could* have everything...

A faint noise caught his attention and he realized it was the sound of Graham coming home. Slipping off the stool he reached for his satin kimono and headed out of this room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Graham was still at the front door, tugging his coat off his arms when Philip walked up to him.

"Morning!"

"Sheesh!" Graham hissed when his quiet brother scared him. Philip laughed then turned slightly, suddenly seeing the green fatigue pants on the floor in the kitchen - forgotten and left behind in their passion last night. Without skipping a heart beat, Philip took off his kimono and dropped it over the pants on the ground before stooping to pick them together. Tumbling the royal blue kimono over in his arms, he effectively covered the pants from view. Graham frowned at the bundle in his brother's arms, but didn't say anything.

Philip casually asked, "How was your night?"

"Terrible," he told him, rubbing his hand over his face as he yawned long and hard.

It *had* been one hell of a bad night at the SGC. Team's SG9 and SG10 were off world and returned sometime around 0300 hours due to a landslide on the world they were on, which killed a member of each team. They were on a simple Recon mission, not due back until later that day, but it all went horribly wrong once the earth started shaking and the mountains started tumbling. It was times like that that Graham was glad he wasn't a member of any of the teams. Sure he had his times when he would give just about anything to be heading up that ramp and into that shimmering wall, but last night, well, he was glad he had a 'desk job'.

Hammond was called to the base, over tired from not enough sleep and angry because no one could locate Colonel O'Neill instead of him. He wondered where the damned officer and his pager were at that time of night!

Doctor Janet Fraiser was exhausted. Due to go home at 0200 she wasn't welcoming the other six members when they returned. There were scrapes to clean, gashes to stitch and confused and mourning officers to contend with - all on three hours sleep the previous night! Dr Warner was also called in, but by the time he arrived, most of the physical damage had been repaired, and that left the emotional scarring for him to tend to.

When Graham left at 0800, 5 hours after they had returned, the SGC was still humming from the drama. General Hammond had gone home around 0500, unable to do anything further once they had discovered the lost bodies and brought them home and Dr Fraiser had fallen asleep in a chair in the infirmary. Teal'c was called in to carefully lift her up and carry her to her on-base quarters.

// Yeah, one hell of a night!// Graham told himself - again.

"Why don't I get you a cup of tea?" Philip suggested, switching the electric kettle on.

"Yeah, thanks!" Graham moved to the sofa and sat down, and Philip took to opportunity to go to his room, laying out the pants on the end of the bed and frowning at the small, black pager that slipped from one of the pockets as he placed the pants down. Picking it up, he looked it over, unsure how to retrieve messages on it. He placed the pager by the bed then went to leave, pausing at the foot to take another look at the sleeping man.

"Oh, Phil I wanted to ask you.." Philip startled when he heard his brother about to enter his room behind him. Stepping from the room and shutting the door once more, Philip looked at Graham.

"What?"

The older man frowned then looked at the bedroom door. Philip followed his bother's gaze then met the quizzical stare before hearing, "You've got a...."

"You don't have to look so surprised!" Philip said nonchalantly, like the past year of celibacy didn't really happen.

Graham's mouth gaped open. "I *am* surprised! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Anger and fear crept in to Graham's voice, causing it to rise slightly.

"We were careful!" Philip sighed, combing his hand through his long fringe then dropping his hand to his side, where it thumped against is thigh.

"Care.. Careful??" Graham stammered.

With a casual laugh in his voice, Philip patted the red cheek and said, "Careful!"

Looking from the door to Philip then to the door again, Graham said, "I didn't think you were seeing anyone?"

"I wasn't. We just... we met last night and - clicked," Philip told him, with a nonchalant shrug.

"Last night! Dammit!" The Lieutenant grabbed his brother by the arm and dragged him away from the door. "What the hell...!"

"Shhh, you'll wake him!"

"Oh, so it *is* a guy then?"

"Yeah." Philip had trouble hiding his grin now, his feelings for this 'guy' just too overwhelming at the moment.

Graham looked at the smile on his little brother's face then shook his head, totally perplexed at how changed his brother was from the man who'd sworn off sex and 'men' ever again!

"Grae," Philip reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders, "We were *very* careful!"

Staring into the dark eyes, Graham finally nodded. "Okay. I'm just worried, that's all!"

Nodding his understanding, Philip patted his shoulder and said, "Well, don't be. I'm fine."

The older brother's brow furrowed. "Is it anyone I know?"

Almost a half truth, Philip shook his head as he said, "No, I very much doubt you'd know this man."

After a pensive silent stare, Graham blew out a long, hard breath and then rubbed his hand down his face, stunned by the news. Seeing the sparkle in the dark eyes, he patted his little brother's face lightly and said, "I just want you to be happy." He wanted to tell him how heart broken he was that this had affected his 'baby brother' but that he was determined to be there for him, all the way through. While Philip was happy, he was happy.

"So," Philip headed back towards the kitchen, knowing that the kettle would have boiled by now. "What was it you wanted to ask me?"

Graham followed him, yawning and rubbing his tired face.

"I wondered how last night went?" He said, propping himself against the kitchen sink.

"Last night?" Philip's mind was blank.

"With Daniel?"

Clamping his eyes shut tight, Philip nodded slowly. Graham had just come on duty the night before last when the team had returned from their mission- later than expected. Graham could see by the way Daniel left the room quickly that here was trouble between him and Jack. Talking about it that day to his brother, Graham had expressed how incredibly concerned he was about Daniel. Philip suggested he'd go and talk to him - being able to come from a place where Daniel was at. The bigger brother had hoped he could have some luck in helping the trouble anthropologist.

"Oh, um, he's.." Philip looked at his brother. He could see in Graham's eyes that he was hoping that Daniel had said or implied he'd take him back if only Graham asked. But Daniel said nothing like that. He ranted and paced about Jack, cursed the man's name repeatedly and then groaned about the lost friendship... It was strange to think back to less than 24 hours ago, to a time when Colonel Jack O'Neill was someone whose name literally hissed off the lips whenever anyone spoke about him.

Graham saw the truth in his brother's dark eyes. With a little bitter disappointment, he asked, "He's okay, isn't he?"

Wetting his lips quickly, Philip lowered his chin to his chest then said, "He's *coping*." Looking up, he saw the pain in his brother's eyes and reached out to touch his shoulder.

Ill-timed, but unintentional, Philip said, "Oh, Chris called by last night."

A slight roll of the eyes accompanied the news as Graham sighed, less than enthusiastically. "Thanks."

"Why don't you go and sit on the sofa, I'll bring you your tea." The artist turned towards the cup, waiting for the tea to infuse properly as he reached out and poured himself a cup of coffee.

He brought over the cups and saw that Graham had fallen asleep on the sofa.

"Grae, wake up. You can't stay here!"

"I'm tired!" the lieutenant mumbled, swatting away the hand shaking him.

"Come on, will you get up. Go to bed!"

"No, I'm comfortable."

"Grae, you'll make it too awkward!"

Slowly the eyes opened and the thick, muddled voice said, "Oh, of course." Trembling, he pressed himself upright and Philip almost thought he should grab him before he fell face down again. Suddenly the phone rang and the younger man reached for it, hoping the extension in his room didn't wake Jack.

"Hello? Sure, wait.." He held the phone down to the man lolling to sleep in a sitting position on the sofa. Philip sat on the stack of books on the coffee table.

"Graham... oh.. Chris.. ? No, I'm dead tired. I just got home! No, I don't ... oh.. sure, I'll see you in a few moments.."

He handed the receiver back to his brother then groaned as he flopped onto his side. "I'm sooooo tired," he moaned.

"Graham, is he coming here?"

"No, I have to go there!" The older man pushed himself up, his exhausted brain spinning and his body weary.

"But you can hardly stand!" Philip was surprised to see Graham stumble when all he was doing was standing upright.

"I'll be fine!" Graham headed to the door and reached for his coat then checked his pockets for his keys.

"What his problem that he can't wait a few hours until you've had some sleep?"

Despite the fact it would be better for him and Jack that Graham was gone, he didn't like the state his brother was in.

"Blue balls, I think!" Graham had trouble feeding his hand through one arm of his jacket. Philip gave a soft laugh as he helped his brother on with his coat. Shaking his head, he reached for the door and opened it .

"Besides, it's better for you and what's his name, this way."

"Yeah, but what about you? You going to make it?"

With a tired nod, Graham said, "I think I'll be fine. All I need is some sleep."

"Don't think you'll be getting much of that."

Again he smiled tiredly. "We'll see."

Waiting a few moments to be sure he'd gone, Philip turned back towards the room, then smiled as he headed through to his bedroom, eager to see if Jack was awake yet.

The colonel was still sound asleep so Philip went and sat on the wide window frame, one leg positioned to stop him from falling off his perch. He slowly drank his coffee while he stared out at the rivulets of rain down his window. He gave a soft cough, feeling the chill through the glass pane beside him, then he looked back at Jack.

The colonel was tangled with the sheet, his long legs splayed across the blue bed and his green shorts firmly in place. Philip recalled the tenderness with which Jack had handled him last night. He closed his eyes, inhaling a long, deep breath as he enjoyed the recollection of hands over his body. Slowly his eyes opened once more and a bolt of guilt went through him -he was staring straight at the sketch of Daniel he'd done. Shooting Jack a quick look before he stared back at the sketch, the young artist recalled the fire in Jack's eyes as he looked at the picture last night, the tender way his hands had caressed the work, and at the way his voice grew soft as he spoke about him.

Rolling his head back, letting it slam against the frame behind him, Philip searched his soul as he slowly finished his drink.

Once more, he asked himself - what had they done?

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