Stargate -- "Can't Be Your Friend Anymore"
slash_100, prompt 079: Confession
big damn table
Also written for au100, prompt 021: Friends
half-sized damn table
prequel to Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme
You can run to me, you can laugh at me,
Or you can walk right out that door,
But I can't be your friend anymore.
Can't Be Your Friend Anymore | Prompt 079: Confession | PG | 700 words
Friday night, Jack left the mountain at 1800 and headed home, showered, shaved (out of habit rather than intent), and put on a black turtleneck and slacks. He was going over to Daniel’s for dinner, and while that was nicer than what he usually wore, Daniel was cooking. Jack could dress for the occasion.
The drive over was uneventful, and Jack found himself fidgeting in the elevator to Daniel’s floor, with the strangest feeling he was heading to a date. Jack shook his head to rid it of that ridiculous notion and knocked on the door.
“It’s open!” Daniel called. Jack followed the delightful smells wafting through the apartment, stopping short in the kitchen door at the sight that greeted him.
Daniel was bent over the oven, readjusting a pan inside. He was barefoot and topless, khakis stretched tight over his rear, oven mitts protecting his hands. Jack swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “Do you always cook half-naked?”
“No,” Daniel said, closing the oven. He stretched, and Jack couldn’t help but stare at the muscles rippling under his skin; Teal’c had bulked him up good. “Why are you always early?” he asked and Jack tore his eyes away from Daniel’s back. “The table’s already set,” he said, washing his hands. “I’m going to get dressed. Pull the chicken out in five minutes, the heat’s already off under the rice.” Jack nodded, and Daniel wandered out.
He returned as Jack was pulling the food out of the oven. He’d cooked Indian, chicken and rice with saffron and those pouches of dough with peas and potatoes inside. Jack almost dropped the tray of pouchy things when he looked at Daniel. He’d put on a white polo shirt that outlined every muscle in his arms and chest, the top two buttons undone, revealing a bit of skin at the base of his throat. Jack found himself wanting to lick that hollow, taste Daniel on his tongue, and froze, wondering where that had come from.
Together they put the food on the table and sat down. Dinner was delicious, the food just spicy enough to bite back, but not enough to really burn. They ate in silence until they’d both cleared their plates and Jack sat back, nursing his third beer. Daniel stood and cleared the table, refusing Jack’s help. His demeanor was subdued, and Jack knew they’d soon get to why Daniel had gone to so much trouble.
“Couch?” Daniel asked when he’d finished. Jack nodded and Daniel grabbed more beer before joining Jack on the couch.
Daniel didn’t say anything for a while, picking at the label on his bottle instead. “Danny,” Jack prompted finally and Daniel looked up, expression miserable. “Whatever it is, just tell me. You’re not leaving the SGC, are you?”
“Not exactly,” Daniel said, and the sinking feeling in Jack’s stomach intensified. “But I’m considering a transfer off SG-1.”
“Why?” Jack asked. “What’s happened?”
“More like what hasn’t happened,” Daniel said ruefully. “We can’t go on like this. It’s getting in the way of our friendship, and I don’t think we can work together if we’re not speaking.”
“Daniel?” Jack asked, the name even more meaningful than usual.
“Jack,” Daniel sighed. He seemed at a loss for words.
“Daniel, just spit it out,” Jack said harshly. Daniel was making him really nervous.
“I know you’re in love with me, Jack,” Daniel said finally, “even if you’re not aware of it. I’ve loved you for a long time, but I can’t do this anymore. It hurts seeing you everyday and knowing we could be so much more. I didn’t want to give you an ultimatum, but I can’t…” He looked up, eyes piercing. “If you can’t take the next step, fine. But I’m leaving. The general’s not happy but he’ll ok it. There’s no other way.”
Jack put his beer down and stood. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, ignoring Daniel’s betrayed expression. “And I’m calling your bluff. Thanks for dinner.” And with that, he left. Jack half-expected Daniel to run after him, but maybe that was wishful thinking.
And when the transfer papers appeared in Jack’s inbox on Monday, he closed his eyes and didn’t cry.
Feedback is better than chocolate
big damn table
Also written for au100, prompt 021: Friends
half-sized damn table
prequel to Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme
You can run to me, you can laugh at me,
Or you can walk right out that door,
But I can't be your friend anymore.
Can't Be Your Friend Anymore | Prompt 079: Confession | PG | 700 words
Friday night, Jack left the mountain at 1800 and headed home, showered, shaved (out of habit rather than intent), and put on a black turtleneck and slacks. He was going over to Daniel’s for dinner, and while that was nicer than what he usually wore, Daniel was cooking. Jack could dress for the occasion.
The drive over was uneventful, and Jack found himself fidgeting in the elevator to Daniel’s floor, with the strangest feeling he was heading to a date. Jack shook his head to rid it of that ridiculous notion and knocked on the door.
“It’s open!” Daniel called. Jack followed the delightful smells wafting through the apartment, stopping short in the kitchen door at the sight that greeted him.
Daniel was bent over the oven, readjusting a pan inside. He was barefoot and topless, khakis stretched tight over his rear, oven mitts protecting his hands. Jack swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “Do you always cook half-naked?”
“No,” Daniel said, closing the oven. He stretched, and Jack couldn’t help but stare at the muscles rippling under his skin; Teal’c had bulked him up good. “Why are you always early?” he asked and Jack tore his eyes away from Daniel’s back. “The table’s already set,” he said, washing his hands. “I’m going to get dressed. Pull the chicken out in five minutes, the heat’s already off under the rice.” Jack nodded, and Daniel wandered out.
He returned as Jack was pulling the food out of the oven. He’d cooked Indian, chicken and rice with saffron and those pouches of dough with peas and potatoes inside. Jack almost dropped the tray of pouchy things when he looked at Daniel. He’d put on a white polo shirt that outlined every muscle in his arms and chest, the top two buttons undone, revealing a bit of skin at the base of his throat. Jack found himself wanting to lick that hollow, taste Daniel on his tongue, and froze, wondering where that had come from.
Together they put the food on the table and sat down. Dinner was delicious, the food just spicy enough to bite back, but not enough to really burn. They ate in silence until they’d both cleared their plates and Jack sat back, nursing his third beer. Daniel stood and cleared the table, refusing Jack’s help. His demeanor was subdued, and Jack knew they’d soon get to why Daniel had gone to so much trouble.
“Couch?” Daniel asked when he’d finished. Jack nodded and Daniel grabbed more beer before joining Jack on the couch.
Daniel didn’t say anything for a while, picking at the label on his bottle instead. “Danny,” Jack prompted finally and Daniel looked up, expression miserable. “Whatever it is, just tell me. You’re not leaving the SGC, are you?”
“Not exactly,” Daniel said, and the sinking feeling in Jack’s stomach intensified. “But I’m considering a transfer off SG-1.”
“Why?” Jack asked. “What’s happened?”
“More like what hasn’t happened,” Daniel said ruefully. “We can’t go on like this. It’s getting in the way of our friendship, and I don’t think we can work together if we’re not speaking.”
“Daniel?” Jack asked, the name even more meaningful than usual.
“Jack,” Daniel sighed. He seemed at a loss for words.
“Daniel, just spit it out,” Jack said harshly. Daniel was making him really nervous.
“I know you’re in love with me, Jack,” Daniel said finally, “even if you’re not aware of it. I’ve loved you for a long time, but I can’t do this anymore. It hurts seeing you everyday and knowing we could be so much more. I didn’t want to give you an ultimatum, but I can’t…” He looked up, eyes piercing. “If you can’t take the next step, fine. But I’m leaving. The general’s not happy but he’ll ok it. There’s no other way.”
Jack put his beer down and stood. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, ignoring Daniel’s betrayed expression. “And I’m calling your bluff. Thanks for dinner.” And with that, he left. Jack half-expected Daniel to run after him, but maybe that was wishful thinking.
And when the transfer papers appeared in Jack’s inbox on Monday, he closed his eyes and didn’t cry.
Feedback is better than chocolate