Stargate -- "Rituals"
slash_100, prompt 063: Hurt
big damn table
for jd_ficathon
written for lazigyrl, prompts:
Requirements: first time; "All people want is someone to listen."
Optional Request: Daniel is trying to get Jack to listen
Many, many thanks to princessofg, for an excellent ego stroking when I doubted my ability to string sentences together.
Somewhere along the line, Jack's stopped listening.
Rituals | PG | 1415 words | complete
"Hey," Jack says from the door, and Daniel forces himself not to look up. He's in the middle of a paragraph, so he holds up his hand to keep Jack from talking, just as he's expected to do. This whole interaction has a ritual to it, and Daniel has to play his part.
There's no way he's going to be able to think now that Jack's eyes are on him, so he gives it a few more seconds of staring at the screen and then looks up. "Hey, Jack. Can I do something for you?"
Jack gives him that sidelong smirk that Daniel's never been able to translate. "Nope," he says though, stepping into Daniel's lab and wandering along the bookshelves. "Wanted to make sure you have lunch at some point."
Daniel rolls his eyes. "Jack, I’m not a child." They do this just about every day they're not offworld or off base, and Daniel can do his side of the dance in his sleep. Hell, he can do Jack's side, too.
"Well, since you're already taking a break..." Jack begins, and Daniel sighs. He's supposed to protest for a few minutes and then let Jack drag him out to lunch. But for some reason, he just isn't in the mood to play anymore.
"Yeah, sure," Daniel says, and Jack looks up quickly. He actually almost drops the Mayan statue he'd been menacing, but catches it and gently places it on the shelf. "It's as good a stopping point as any."
"You ok?" Jack asks, and Daniel's surprised he's saying anything about it at all. This ritual of theirs is absolute, but it is also unspoken.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Daniel says, for lack of anything better. What's he supposed to say, why don't we have an actual conversation for once? Not likely to go over well. "I'm just tired."
Jack gives him a searching look, and for a moment Daniel thinks Jack might break their usual rhythm and really push. "If you say so," he says, though, and Daniel finds that makes him a little sad. A year ago, Jack would have pushed. But that was before they'd gotten so entrenched in their ritual.
What had changed?
*
"Now, what I've never understood is why the point of origin goes last. Wouldn't it make more sense for it to go first, if it's where you're starting from?" Jack asks, gesturing with his fork. Daniel smiles; that's a habit Jack didn't have four years ago. "What?"
"What?"
Jack glares at him, and Daniel's smile widens. "You're giving me a funny look."
"I'm not allowed to smile?" Daniel asks, twirling his spaghetti and lifting a forkful to his mouth.
"You're laughing at me, aren't you?"
"Not at the moment, no," Daniel says. "You were saying?"
Jack squints at him, unconvinced, but continues. "So, I asked Carter, and she gave me some technobabble I think I'm about two advanced degrees away from understanding."
"Well, what did you expect?" Daniel asks, and Jack nods. They lapse into companionable silence, but for some reason it bothers Daniel in a way it doesn't usually. It's all so rote: Jack drags him down to lunch, they talk about nothing at all, then they don't even talk. Daniel's usually a fan of the cultural implications of rituals, but everything about this ritual of theirs says that the friendship has...gone stale? Daniel's never had a friendship this intense--he's still not sure of the rules--but he would have thought, hoped that they wouldn't run out of things to say to each other already.
Jack finishes his own pasta and pushes his plate away. "Right, well, paperwork to do. See you later?" He gets up before Daniel gets a chance to answer.
"Yeah, sure," Daniel says to Jack's retreating back. His pushes his plate away, too. Suddenly, he's not hungry.
*
Daniel finally runs Jack to ground in his office, which is a surprise. Daniel wasn't entirely sure Jack even knew where his own office was.
But he's playing a gameboy, so Daniel knows he doesn't have to worry about having accidentally slipped sideways into an alternate reality.
"Hey," he says, and Jack looks up.
"Fancy meeting you here," Jack says. Daniel's dismayed to see that Jack hasn't stopped playing.
"I could say the same thing about you," he says, glad to see Jack smile slightly. "Have any plans for Friday?"
"I was all set to do exciting things like laundry," Jack says. "What, you have a better offer?"
"We could do pizza? I think there's a game..."
"There's always a game," Jack says with a grin. "Well, as long as you come to my place. That ok?"
"Sure," Daniel says. It's not quite as good as being invited over, but he'll take what he can get. "You get the pizza, I'll get the beer."
"I'll get the beer," Jack counters. "You have horrible taste."
Daniel has the juvenile urge to stick out his tongue at Jack, but resists. "Fine. Seven?"
"1900 it is."
"And I was thinking, we could, ah...talk, too," Daniel says hesitantly.
"About what?" Jack asks, so obviously clueless that Daniel lets it drop.
"You can try explaining the rules of hockey to me again."
"It's summer, Daniel, it'll be baseball," Jack says, with that affectionately exasperated look. Daniel feels an unexpected thrill in his chest.
*
Daniel's standing on Jack's doorstep at three minutes to seven, two large pizzas in one hand and two six-packs dangling from the fingers of the other. He's contemplating how best to free up a hand to ring the bell when the door opens. "Well, you're early," Jack says, taking the beer and walking into the house.
"Hello to you, too," Daniel says, following him inside and closing the door. "I see what your priorities are," he adds when Jack reappears from the kitchen, an open bottle of beer in each hand.
"The Rockies are already losing," Jack says, handing Daniel the bottle of Tsingtao. He takes a sip of his own Heineken and takes the pizza.
Daniel shakes his head and follows Jack into the living room. Daniel settles onto his customary place on the couch, and he realizes that he hasn't been here in a while. "When's the last time we did this?" he asks, leaning forward to take a slice of pizza from the open box. There's a roll of paper towel on the coffee table, and he takes a sheet to use as a plate.
"A while," Jack says, his attention focused on the screen. "Why?"
"I missed this," Daniel says after a moment's careful pause. He's venturing into uncharted territory here, and he's not sure what Jack's response will be.
Jack looks up, meeting his eyes. Daniel can't read his expression. "Me, too." The silence that stretches between them is heavy. Jack breaks eye-contact first, and Daniel thinks he almost looks guilty.
"Why don't you invite me over anymore?" Daniel asks. He can't look at Jack, so he stares at his beer, dripping a ring of condensation onto the table.
"Talking isn't my...thing," Jack says, and Daniel swings his head up to glare at him. Jack is studying his hands where they're resting on his knees.
"Don't you do that to me," Daniel says, suddenly furious. "Don't push me away with this macho bullshit. This friendship is dying, and I'm not letting it go without a fight."
Daniel's not entirely sure what happens next, but suddenly he's crammed into the corner of the couch and Jack O'Neill--Jack O'-fucking-Neill--is kissing him. Daniel is barely able to form a thought and then Jack is pulling back, watching him carefully.
"What?"
"What do you mean, what?" Daniel says, reseating his glasses on his face and pushing himself out of the corner of the couch. Unfortunately--or perhaps not--this almost lands him in Jack's lap.
"So?" Jack says, with the defensiveness of a child.
"So...are you going to do it again, or do I get to squash you into the couch this time?"
Jack's shoulders relax slightly. "You're not going to punch me?"
"I might if you decide to stop talking to me again," Daniel says. He reaches out to cup Jack's cheek and Jack wraps his arms around him, pulling him close. It seems the right thing to do to return the favor, so Daniel tosses his glasses on the coffee table and tangles his fingers in Jack's hair, pulling him into a kiss.
Maybe it's possible to change some rituals after all.
Feedback is better than chocolate.
big damn table
for jd_ficathon
written for lazigyrl, prompts:
Requirements: first time; "All people want is someone to listen."
Optional Request: Daniel is trying to get Jack to listen
Many, many thanks to princessofg, for an excellent ego stroking when I doubted my ability to string sentences together.
Somewhere along the line, Jack's stopped listening.
Rituals | PG | 1415 words | complete
"Hey," Jack says from the door, and Daniel forces himself not to look up. He's in the middle of a paragraph, so he holds up his hand to keep Jack from talking, just as he's expected to do. This whole interaction has a ritual to it, and Daniel has to play his part.
There's no way he's going to be able to think now that Jack's eyes are on him, so he gives it a few more seconds of staring at the screen and then looks up. "Hey, Jack. Can I do something for you?"
Jack gives him that sidelong smirk that Daniel's never been able to translate. "Nope," he says though, stepping into Daniel's lab and wandering along the bookshelves. "Wanted to make sure you have lunch at some point."
Daniel rolls his eyes. "Jack, I’m not a child." They do this just about every day they're not offworld or off base, and Daniel can do his side of the dance in his sleep. Hell, he can do Jack's side, too.
"Well, since you're already taking a break..." Jack begins, and Daniel sighs. He's supposed to protest for a few minutes and then let Jack drag him out to lunch. But for some reason, he just isn't in the mood to play anymore.
"Yeah, sure," Daniel says, and Jack looks up quickly. He actually almost drops the Mayan statue he'd been menacing, but catches it and gently places it on the shelf. "It's as good a stopping point as any."
"You ok?" Jack asks, and Daniel's surprised he's saying anything about it at all. This ritual of theirs is absolute, but it is also unspoken.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Daniel says, for lack of anything better. What's he supposed to say, why don't we have an actual conversation for once? Not likely to go over well. "I'm just tired."
Jack gives him a searching look, and for a moment Daniel thinks Jack might break their usual rhythm and really push. "If you say so," he says, though, and Daniel finds that makes him a little sad. A year ago, Jack would have pushed. But that was before they'd gotten so entrenched in their ritual.
What had changed?
*
"Now, what I've never understood is why the point of origin goes last. Wouldn't it make more sense for it to go first, if it's where you're starting from?" Jack asks, gesturing with his fork. Daniel smiles; that's a habit Jack didn't have four years ago. "What?"
"What?"
Jack glares at him, and Daniel's smile widens. "You're giving me a funny look."
"I'm not allowed to smile?" Daniel asks, twirling his spaghetti and lifting a forkful to his mouth.
"You're laughing at me, aren't you?"
"Not at the moment, no," Daniel says. "You were saying?"
Jack squints at him, unconvinced, but continues. "So, I asked Carter, and she gave me some technobabble I think I'm about two advanced degrees away from understanding."
"Well, what did you expect?" Daniel asks, and Jack nods. They lapse into companionable silence, but for some reason it bothers Daniel in a way it doesn't usually. It's all so rote: Jack drags him down to lunch, they talk about nothing at all, then they don't even talk. Daniel's usually a fan of the cultural implications of rituals, but everything about this ritual of theirs says that the friendship has...gone stale? Daniel's never had a friendship this intense--he's still not sure of the rules--but he would have thought, hoped that they wouldn't run out of things to say to each other already.
Jack finishes his own pasta and pushes his plate away. "Right, well, paperwork to do. See you later?" He gets up before Daniel gets a chance to answer.
"Yeah, sure," Daniel says to Jack's retreating back. His pushes his plate away, too. Suddenly, he's not hungry.
*
Daniel finally runs Jack to ground in his office, which is a surprise. Daniel wasn't entirely sure Jack even knew where his own office was.
But he's playing a gameboy, so Daniel knows he doesn't have to worry about having accidentally slipped sideways into an alternate reality.
"Hey," he says, and Jack looks up.
"Fancy meeting you here," Jack says. Daniel's dismayed to see that Jack hasn't stopped playing.
"I could say the same thing about you," he says, glad to see Jack smile slightly. "Have any plans for Friday?"
"I was all set to do exciting things like laundry," Jack says. "What, you have a better offer?"
"We could do pizza? I think there's a game..."
"There's always a game," Jack says with a grin. "Well, as long as you come to my place. That ok?"
"Sure," Daniel says. It's not quite as good as being invited over, but he'll take what he can get. "You get the pizza, I'll get the beer."
"I'll get the beer," Jack counters. "You have horrible taste."
Daniel has the juvenile urge to stick out his tongue at Jack, but resists. "Fine. Seven?"
"1900 it is."
"And I was thinking, we could, ah...talk, too," Daniel says hesitantly.
"About what?" Jack asks, so obviously clueless that Daniel lets it drop.
"You can try explaining the rules of hockey to me again."
"It's summer, Daniel, it'll be baseball," Jack says, with that affectionately exasperated look. Daniel feels an unexpected thrill in his chest.
*
Daniel's standing on Jack's doorstep at three minutes to seven, two large pizzas in one hand and two six-packs dangling from the fingers of the other. He's contemplating how best to free up a hand to ring the bell when the door opens. "Well, you're early," Jack says, taking the beer and walking into the house.
"Hello to you, too," Daniel says, following him inside and closing the door. "I see what your priorities are," he adds when Jack reappears from the kitchen, an open bottle of beer in each hand.
"The Rockies are already losing," Jack says, handing Daniel the bottle of Tsingtao. He takes a sip of his own Heineken and takes the pizza.
Daniel shakes his head and follows Jack into the living room. Daniel settles onto his customary place on the couch, and he realizes that he hasn't been here in a while. "When's the last time we did this?" he asks, leaning forward to take a slice of pizza from the open box. There's a roll of paper towel on the coffee table, and he takes a sheet to use as a plate.
"A while," Jack says, his attention focused on the screen. "Why?"
"I missed this," Daniel says after a moment's careful pause. He's venturing into uncharted territory here, and he's not sure what Jack's response will be.
Jack looks up, meeting his eyes. Daniel can't read his expression. "Me, too." The silence that stretches between them is heavy. Jack breaks eye-contact first, and Daniel thinks he almost looks guilty.
"Why don't you invite me over anymore?" Daniel asks. He can't look at Jack, so he stares at his beer, dripping a ring of condensation onto the table.
"Talking isn't my...thing," Jack says, and Daniel swings his head up to glare at him. Jack is studying his hands where they're resting on his knees.
"Don't you do that to me," Daniel says, suddenly furious. "Don't push me away with this macho bullshit. This friendship is dying, and I'm not letting it go without a fight."
Daniel's not entirely sure what happens next, but suddenly he's crammed into the corner of the couch and Jack O'Neill--Jack O'-fucking-Neill--is kissing him. Daniel is barely able to form a thought and then Jack is pulling back, watching him carefully.
"What?"
"What do you mean, what?" Daniel says, reseating his glasses on his face and pushing himself out of the corner of the couch. Unfortunately--or perhaps not--this almost lands him in Jack's lap.
"So?" Jack says, with the defensiveness of a child.
"So...are you going to do it again, or do I get to squash you into the couch this time?"
Jack's shoulders relax slightly. "You're not going to punch me?"
"I might if you decide to stop talking to me again," Daniel says. He reaches out to cup Jack's cheek and Jack wraps his arms around him, pulling him close. It seems the right thing to do to return the favor, so Daniel tosses his glasses on the coffee table and tangles his fingers in Jack's hair, pulling him into a kiss.
Maybe it's possible to change some rituals after all.
Feedback is better than chocolate.