He can only ignore Jack looming in the doorway of his office for so long. He knows it’s Jack, and he knows he’s mad because he’s remained in the doorway, uninjured shoulder propped up on the frame, instead of coming in and sitting down, or playing with the things on Daniel’s shelves. Not at all interested in having this conversation, he stays hunched over his monitor and pretends not to notice his partner’s presence.
To his chagrin, he only lasts about five minutes, and that isn’t enough time to inspire Jack to make the first move. Damn his military training and ability to just stand around doing nothing without going insane. Daniel shuts down the program he’s running and spins his chair around to his work table, pretending to be surprised to see the colonel.
“Jack!”
“Daniel,” he responds flatly, not moving.
“...Jack?” Figuring at this point he has nothing to lose, Daniel tries the wide-eyed, innocent, I-don’t-know-what’s-going-on look. It doesn’t usually work on his colonel, but hey, there’s a first time for everything and today could be it. Jack just looks at him for a minute, before pushing off of the doorframe and sauntering into the office. He pulls the chair opposite Daniel out with a foot and drops into it, somehow managing to make the action look languid and a little dangerous, even as he’s protecting his injured shoulder. Daniel is momentarily distracted by admiring his partner’s grace until his wandering gaze meets Jack’s steely eyes.
“When I told Colonel Edwards you were a pain in the ass,” Jack drawls, “it wasn’t a challenge to prove me right.”
He can feel the flush of embarrassment across his face and the heat up the back of his neck. “I solved it,” he protests. “I negotiated the mining rights that we needed.”
“Yeah?” Jack leans forward a little bit, and Daniel resists the urge to sit back away from him. “And where did going off alone into enemy territory with no backup or even a weapon factor into your plan, Doctor Jackson? Spur-of-the-moment poor decision making, or planned idiocy?”
“Jack, the Unas were never our enemy!”
“Oh for crying out loud, Daniel,” Jack snaps, “tell that to Lieutenant Ritter! Oh, right, you can’t, because the Unas killed him!”
“I-I am sorry about Lieutenant Ritter,” Daniel sighs, closing his eyes before looking back up at Jack over the rim of his glasses. “You know I am. But they were just defending their sacred ground, and we can’t fault them for that.”
“Maybe not,” Jack concedes. Daniel catches a momentary softening of his lover’s hard expression and feels a corresponding rush of affection. He also knows that Jack had stood up for him with Edwards because he’d overheard them.
Daniel has already changed into off-world gear and started to head to the Gateroom and go get Chaka when it occurs to him that he should probably tell Jack where he’s going. He changes course to double back to Jack’s office, feet walking the familiar path while his nose is buried in his journal where he has written down everything he’s learned about the Unas language; the only reason he doesn’t walk right into the middle of the conversation is that he basically walks into the mostly closed-door, unused to finding it so, and he fumbles his journal for a minute and hears Edwards before he can walk through.
“You can’t seriously tell me you think this is a good idea,”
“What can it hurt? Best case scenario it works, worst case scenario you get brownie points for cooperating, and you move on to plan B,” Jack says, in one of his most reasonable tones of voice. It’s one of those tones that says he’s humoring the speaker, but doesn’t particularly agree.
“Come on, Jack, everyone knows the man is a walking disaster. And you think we should listen to his crackpot theory that he and this other giant lizard can negotiate peace? That nonsense might be all well and good on your first-contact missions, but this is a cut and dry military op.” Oh. They’re talking about Daniel. He’s torn between being mad at Edwards for being so narrow-minded, embarrassed that people in the SGC actually talk about him like this, and a fleeting clench of fear in his gut that he’s about to hear Jack agree with this man. He wants to leave, but morbid curiosity has him glued to his spot.
“Hey!” Jack snaps, and the indulgent quality to his tone is replaced by something unyielding. “You don’t get to talk about him like that. That man opened the Stargate, and has saved the Earth more times than any of us can count. We all owe him...everything, and don’t you forget it. Hammond and Vidrine certainly haven’t.” Daniel is sure his eyes are as big around as dinner plates. He’s never heard Jack stand up for him like this. It’s...nice.
“Of course...I didn’t mean it like…,” the other colonel flounders for a moment, taken aback by Jack’s sudden anger, but rallies a little. “He’s just...so...you even said so earlier!” Jack had, actually, said something along those lines on the planet, but he’d backed Daniel up anyway. “He’s a nightmare to have on a mission.”
“Look, Martin, Daniel’s not military. It’s true that he can be a giant pain in the ass. He doesn’t follow orders, he’s never where you expect him to be, he wanders off, he speaks up for the group without checking in with his commanding officer, he’s not intimidated by anyone or anything, he hates using his weapon, he makes everything complicated, and he doesn’t see a damn thing in black and white.” With that litany of offenses, Daniel bites his lip, feeling raw and hurt, and starts to step back away from the cracked-open door. But Jack isn’t done. “But God, he’s worth it. He speaks a million and one languages, and get a read on strange people and cultures faster than anyone I’ve ever met. He can see the good in everybody. He’ll give his life for yours without even thinking twice, and he knows something about every damn thing. If there’s a single chance in hell of solving a problem without shooting your way out of it, Daniel can find it. He sees a perspective that we probably never had, and if we did, it was trained out of us. We’re military guys, and we’ve been taught to use force to get our way. But eventually, if you stick around, you’re going to get into trouble off-world that you can’t shoot or threaten or bully your way out of. When you do, you better hope you have Daniel or one of his proteges on your team, because it’ll be your best chance of survival.”
There’s humiliating tears pricking at the corners of Daniel’s eyes, but they aren’t sad tears. He loves this man. Edwards seems to be speechless, but his expression must be at least somewhat accepting, because Jack’s tone relaxes a little bit from icy and razor-sharp back to something appropriate for a pleasant chat between colleagues. “Daniel’s not a big fan of chain of command. And if he thinks you’re wrong, it’s true that he might not do as he’s told. Worse, he’s almost always in the right, which makes dressing him down for ignoring your orders an ordeal. It’s enough to drive a man to drink, sometimes. But if you respect him, he’ll respect you in return, and he’ll at least make an effort to cooperate. If you treat him like crap, Edwards, he’s going to make your life miserable. So I suggest you try to get along.” Jack doesn’t sound particularly put out by this concept - almost pleased by it, actually. Daniel smiles a little to himself, and turns away. He’ll have to come back in a few minutes and make a ton of noise on his way.
Warmth is replaced with trepidation when Jack’s expression goes flinty again as he leans in towards Daniel. “But I can fault you for doing something so stupid. There was no good reason not to at least keep Teal’c with you. You better believe if it weren’t for this,” he gestures to his injured shoulder with his opposite hand, “I would be a pain in your ass, Dannyboy.”
The clear threat in that makes Daniel squirm, and drop his gaze to the work table. They haven’t...Jack hasn’t spanked him since before he ascended. It took a while to get their relationship back on track, and though they are as close now as ever, things have been as calm as can be for those who go through the Stargate on a daily basis. Or, at least, Jack and Daniel have been pulling together as a team. Daniel hasn’t done anything that Jack disapproves of, nor anything to trigger his own guilt complex past what he can handle himself. Their disagreements have been minor.
But.
Daniel had known when he handed his beretta over to Teal’c and went alone with Chaka that Jack would not approve, and that he’d never have gotten away with it if Jack hadn’t been Earthbound. Honestly, he hadn’t expected Teal’c to let it happen so easily. Still, Daniel hadn’t felt guilty about doing it anyway until this minute, when Jack called him on it. Slowly, he looks back up across the desk, studying his lover’s face. Jack looks...exhausted. Their colonel loathes being left behind, and Daniel can’t pretend there hadn’t been some moments there when things had been touch-and-go; Jack would have had time to read all about them now from several different viewpoints as reports got turned in, even before they factor in chatting with T.
“I’m sorry, Jack,” he admits, “I didn’t want to take Edwards’ men anyway. I didn’t trust them, after what happened to the lieutenant. But I should have taken Teal’c.”
“Damn right,” Jack affirms. “We mostly broke you of the habit of rushing in and doing stupid things, before. Don’t make me do it again, okay? We’re a team. You have to trust us to do our jobs, too.”
“Got it,” Daniel mutters, fighting the urge to blush. He’s a grown man, damn it, and Jack’s disapproval shouldn’t feel like this. He has to admit, though (even if only to himself), that what Jack thinks has always meant more to him that most other people.
“Peachy,” the man across the desk murmurs, and Daniel looks up at him again. “You’ll be happy to know, Danny, that your desire not to ‘break in’ a new colonel has been communicated clearly to Hammond. SG-1 is grounded until I’m fit to ship out again. You can catch up on all,” he gesture expansively to Daniel’s cluttered office, “this stuff. Get in some weapons and hand-to-hand practice with Teal’c.”
Daniel isn’t sure whether this is a good thing, or partially a rebuke on the General’s part for his behavior on P3X-403. The General didn’t seem mad, but, he knows sometimes Hammond lets him off the hook for things that he maybe shouldn’t, and that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get upset about them. The not-quite-suggestion about brushing up on his martial skills with T is certainly not a reward, coming from Jack in this mood. The Jaffa was not pleased with his solo antics either, and will probably drop Daniel on his ass a few extra times in retribution. Chewing on his lip, he studies Jack, but the man’s face is impassive, giving nothing away.
“Yeah,” Daniel gives in, sighing. “I am sorry,” he laments, quietly. This, this is part of why he’d ever set in motion their... other method of dealing with things like this. It did vanquish his own guilt, but also Jack O’Neill had trouble letting things go. He liked the clear-cut consequences of his Air Force, and had always struggled with the lack of those same clear definitions in his personal life, and in Daniel’s case, also the fact that his lover wasn’t subject to any military consequences for his actions. That cleared the air for both of them, when needed, quicker and with less chance for them hurting each other, emotionally. In this case, though, Daniel’s not sure he’s ready, even if Jack was physically up to it. They’ll have to resolve this the old-fashioned way.
“Okay,” Jack agrees, and then Daniel hears him pause, take a deep breath. He peeks upwards through his eyelashes and watches Jack run his uninjured hand over his face. When he speaks again, the edge has gone from Jack’s voice - reprimand delivered, promise to be less reckless secured, his lover has relaxed back into his chair with a calm look on his face. Something in Daniel’s heart swells - maybe he wasn’t the only one who grew some while they were apart. “Well, then, how about we grab Sam and Teal’c and blow this joint? It’s quittin’ time, and I’m hungry.”
“Sounds good,” the archaeologist agrees, standing up and grabbing his jacket off his chair. Jack is waiting for him as he rounds the desk, and slings an arm around his shoulders as they turn off the light and walk into the hall. It’s not the hug Daniel wants, but it’s the best equivalent he can get on base.
“So,” Jack says, and Daniel knows without looking he’s smirking. “Tell me about how you just walked into a meeting with two generals and a colonel that you weren’t invited to and got everyone to do things your way, as usual. Did Edwards make that expression that makes him look constipated?”
