Down And Dirty

by Clancy Thomas

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asc/clancy/downdirty.php
Summary: SG-1 finds an unusual way to forge yet another alliance with an alien world

'Suppose we should be grateful it wasn't rhythmic gymnastics.'

Daniel mulled over that alternative and decided not to let on to Jack that, in his mind, it was actually a sound option, compared with what they were about to go through. But Jack wasn't going to let him get away without a comeback - he was watching him with that cocksure half-smile, confident. Arrogant. Yeah, damn arrogant Or just, confident. Either way, Daniel knew a psyche out when he saw one. Ah well, if this was the way he was going to play it then

'Actually Jack, only women can compete in rhythmic gymnastics. You should be grateful it isn't Greco-Roman wrestling.' He finished with a flourish and a mysterious smile of his own, trying to imply that he just might have a special skill in that area. A little lame but he was only warming up after all. Jack obviously didn't buy it - he just raised an eyebrow mildly.

'Oh, excuse me if I don't possess your limitless skills of analytical cultural observation Dr Jackson, but I'll take a punt on the fact that I've watched more sport than you've had lectures and that' Jack jabbed in the air with his finger for emphasis, 'looks suspiciously like wrestling to me. Two guys, hanging onto one another, each trying to get the other down onto the floor The only other sport which springs to mind is boxing, and that involves the wearing of gloves.' He finished with looking pointedly at Daniel for reaction. The younger man didn't disappoint.

Daniel screwed up his face and gazed intensely at the competitors. 'This doesn't involve the wearing of anything.'

Jack grimaced bitterly. 'Yes, good of the Yoda-men to mention that wasn't it?'

'Yoho'min,' Daniel corrected absently as one of the competitors took a particularly painful looking knee in the groin. He winced. 'That's gotta be an illegal move.'

Jack followed his gaze. 'Do that to me Daniel, and I promise you'll regret it.'

Daniel sniffed. So Jack was back on the psyche out tactics. Well, you gotta be in it to win it.

'Jack, what makes you so sure you're gonna beat me?'

Jack tried to avoid looking at his team mate's toned, firm and surprisingly muscular, not to mention nine years younger form, and Daniel tried to surreptitiously flex every muscle he owned.

'I've made my career in a job which requires extreme physical fitness and involves intense training in the areas of strength, endurance and even a little flexibility on the odd occasion. I'll cream you Daniel, we both know that.' Jack crossed his arms in front of his chest, then realised how defensive that would look and tried to casually drop them back by his sides. Too late. He conceded the point to his companion and watched Daniel seize it gleefully.

His blue eyes lit up. 'Ah, but I've been living with the Yoho'min for the past three weeks. I've participated in every aspect of their day to day life. I've been eating their food, working with them, joining in their daily training sessions and watching the exhibitions each afternoon.' Daniel paused for breath.

Jack scowled. 'And your point is?'

Daniel simply shrugged. Confidently. Almost arrogantly. No, it was definitely confidence. Jack narrowed his eyes. Just don't get ahead of yourself Daniel, I don't want to have to take you down a peg or two when it comes to our turn.

'I've been learning the moves, studying the rules and the methods. It's not so much about strength, as about balance, timing and flexibility.'

'Sounding more and more like rhythmic gymnastics every minute. Are you sure we're in the right arena?'

Daniel pretended Jack hadn't spoken. 'So that's how I know it's not exactly like Greco-Roman wrestling. Similar, but with some important differences. I'd hazard a guess that these people were taken from Earth by the Goa'uld around the same time as the era nominated as the heyday of Ancient Greece, but their customs are more in keeping with plains people, inhabitants of grasslands, lush, fertile lowlands, not coastal, not mountainous. I'm still trying to work out though, what the symbolism is of these particular exhibitions of physical prowess. The amount of effort and energy that goes into mounting these competitions every month is astounding. It's like there being a mini-Olympic Games every twenty eight days. Except of course, that Mount Olympus is a completely foreign notion to these people'

'All right, all right, enough with the lecture you're distracting me from my preparation. Gotta warm up, you know.'

A muffled snort from Daniel. 'Sorry Jack but I don't see you doing any stretching out. If that's what you want then' he spread out his arms dramatically, 'go ahead, warm up, and while you're at it give a wave to Teal'c and Sam for me, I think they're in the cheap seats up the back of the stand.'

Jack considered the bursting stadium before them and decided that lurking in the shadows of the preparation bay would do for a little while longer. The pair of competitors before them had strode out even while the first match was still in progress and had begun warming up on the grassy island in the middle of the arena, much to the approval of the crowd. Jack O'Neill certainly wouldn't be giving anyone a free peek before he really, really had to. He regretted having listened to the SGC's over-enthusiastic anthropologist when he reported that in accordance with the Spring custom, he and Colonel O'Neill had been invited to participate in the series of exhibition and competition games held on the last day of every month. He regretted General Hammond's desire for Colonel O'Neill and his team to forge a firm alliance with the Yoho'min. And boy did he regret having chosen arena sports over the ten mile orienteering course. Oh for some decent foliage round about now.

Daniel nudged him excitedly as one of the competitors fell flat on his back and his opponent sat on him for the required amount of time.

'That's it. We're up.'

The two men staggered off to their next event, and to the roar of the crowd, Daniel strode confidently out into the arena towards the designated square. Jack sighed and wondered exactly how he'd come to end up about to go three rounds in a mud wrestling pit with a naked Daniel Jackson. Just add jelly. He shook his head and meekly followed his team mate. He could only hope Carter had remembered to put film in that camera he'd lent her.

Daniel was hesitating at the edge of the muddy square, half listening to the referee as he explained the rules but gazing firmly at the pit in which they were to wrestle. Jack strode up and stood next to him. Strength in numbers and all that and if he edged forward a little he could put Daniel between himself and the eagle eyes of Carter and Teal'c on the other side of the stadium.

His earlier confidence rapidly dissolving into the mud, Daniel was looking a little sick.

'This morning when they started there wasn't any mud involved. This was firm earth. Dry and firm. Do you suppose that's all from perspiration? And injury?' His voice cracked on the last query.

Jack squeezed his arm. 'Yep. Blood, sweat and tears. You're not having second thoughts are you Daniel? You know I'll go easy on you. Or we could just pretend or I could trip you now and you could forfeit due to injury or we could say you felt sick, had gastro or something, I'm sure Sam would give you a doctor's certificate'

The referee blew his horn and Jack found himself kissing the mud. Well, it wasn't supposed to start like that!

He tried to kick out with his legs but they were pinned down by a dead weight. He just ended up flailing around in the mud for a few seconds. The referee blew his horn a second time and Daniel slid off Jack's back letting his team mate get up out off the ground.

Jack eased himself up gingerly. The front of his naked body was coated with mud from his chin to his knees. Slick, kinda oily mud, a little warm from all the activity it had seen in the past few hours. Pretty gross all round But damn good camouflage, he had to admit. Not quite a fig leaf, but certainly better than nothing. Cheers Space-Monkey, I owe you one. Which I'll endeavour to repay, probably in the next round if you're lucky. He turned to his team mate.

The Yoho'min ref gabbled something unintelligible and held up Daniel's wrist to the crowd, who went wild with applause. Okay, this was just too much for Jack to take.

'He cheated! He was already pulling me down when the horn blew,' Jack protested, resembling at once a small petulant boy and most of his favourite ice hockey players.

Daniel smirked, his body still pure and clean, without the slick decoration of mud which marked Jack as the loser.

'Settle Jack, there's still two more rounds to go. But if you want this over as quickly and painlessly as possible, it really might be a good idea if you don't resist too much. It'll just draw out the defeat.' Daniel blinked innocently and waited patiently for the ref to blow his horn.

Oh, nice touch Danny-boy. Really gonna have to take you down a whole notch. It's gonna hurt, but you'll thank me for it. Eventually. When you can sit down again. Just blow that friggin' horn.

~~~

Round two commenced. The two men faced off - Jack in the middle of the pit with nothing to lose, including his dignity, Daniel shuffling warily around the edges. Jack eyed him knowingly, hungrily. The waiting game. Just let him walk into it. He licked his lips and smiled to throw Daniel off-balance psychologically. It worked. Daniel smiled back hesitantly and kept circling. That's it Jack old boy, keep him guessing - tactics, subterfuge, this is what three weeks living with a load of obsessive body builders wouldn't have taught our naive anthropologist.

A few more steps and he was looking right into the sun which was now at Jack's back.

Jack made his move, lunging at Daniel's waist, wrapping his arms around him and pushing him to the ground. However, keeping him down for the requisite ten seconds was harder than Jack had anticipated.

Daniel bounced back up on his knees straight away, the slick mud loosening Jack's grip on his waist. Jack ended up falling forward, his chin coming to grief with Daniel's hip. Jack groaned and closed his eyes as he came to rest only centimetres from his team mate's groin. Too close. He struggled quickly to get a purchase on the slippery body in his arms but Daniel was already wriggling away.

Panting a little and slipping in the mud, Daniel kicked out at his opponent and winced as he connected with a kneecap. He'd slipped at the last second and caught Jack harder than he had intended. Spreading his fingers wide and gripping the dryer dirt behind him at the edge of the ring, Daniel pulled himself backwards out of the mess of flailing limbs.

He kept a close eye on Jack who was on all fours, spitting out a mouthful of dirt and swearing his head off. Daniel wondered if it had been a mistake to win the first round. He'd known how much Jack liked the rush of fighting an opponent, any kind of opponent, in jest or in the deadly serious battles with the Goa'uld, but stupidly he'd forgotten how much Jack liked to win. Then again, not many people would particularly enjoy having their face rubbed in the dirt, literally, in front of several hundred very vocal spectators. Jack staggered to his feet. He shook his head as if to clear it, then squinted at his nervous opponent through an eyeful of mud and grinned evilly.

'Okay Danny-boy, we'll play it your way. But it's only fair to let you know in advance, boy, you are gonna regret it.'

Daniel swallowed. Hard.

Best form of defense is attack, or so they claim. So Daniel launched his attack, going for a lunging leg tackle, trusting in the shifting, sucking mud beneath their feet to come to his aid. Well, maybe next time, Daniel thought as Jack sidestepped swiftly and the young man belly flopped into the soup.

He felt a soft warm weight flop on to his back and knew that it was Jack using his full body weight to hold him down. Jack grunted with the effort Damn, Daniel was so hard to get a grip on! All the competitors were completely oiled up before their matches - part of the ritual of the games. The men were required to massage the fluid into the bodies of their opponents, to build the trust between the competitors and acknowledge the 'friendliness' of the games. Jack had done Daniel first, from the back of his neck all the way down to his feet. The oiled was scented with a deep fruity flavour and Jack was sure it was that which had given him the head-rush as he gently and thoroughly massaged it into Daniel's skin. He'd dribbled it down Daniel's arms, feeling the firm, strong muscles he knew existed beneath the lightly tanned skin. Jack had worked his fingers in circular motions over his team mate's smooth chest, catching the trickles of liquid as they detoured around pale erect nipples. He had run his hands over and over Daniel's chest, down around his waist and across his hips. Then Daniel had turned around and Jack had traced a path through the dribbles of oil, gently rubbing it into each muscle equally, catching a drop as it threatened to escape between the firm cheeks and scooping more into his palms before massaging the heady scent into Daniel's ass, one hand resting lightly on his belly to draw the young man closer. Working his way down, Jack had squatted to run his slick fingers down the inside of his team mate's thighs. The oil had a curious reaction - Daniel's skin had become gradually warmer to the touch. By the time Jack reached his ankles, Daniel's skin was glistening and Jack had felt the heat radiating from him. Yet Daniel had not been not disturbed by it and had stood relaxed and still the entire time, his eyes and mouth closed in blissful enjoyment. Then Jack had nudged him and handed over the oil, and Daniel had done him.

Jack felt himself slipping off Daniel's back and kicked his heels into the dirt. Something wet squelched between their slick bodies. Damnit! Daniel had freed a hand and was rapidly working a glob of mud between his lower back and Jack's chest. Sneaky, but not sneaky enough to get the better of a Colonel in the US Airforce, Space-Monkey Jack quickly slid further up towards Daniel's shoulders, pinning his arms to the ground. Surely it had been ten seconds by now Daniel was muttering something into the mud. Jack strained to hear what he was saying but the referee blew his horn before he caught anything coherent.

Jack lurched off his opponent and staggered to the other side of the ring. Daniel quickly bounced back up on his feet. He was mud from head to toe, the worst of it running down his body in streaks. He flicked his head to get rid of the clump of hair stuck to his forehead and tried in vain to wipe some of the mud from his chin but inadvertently made it worse.

Daniel watched as the referee grabbed Jack's wrist and held it up. Okay Jack, so we're square now - you've got back a little dignity and for this round the stakes are even.

The noise of the crowd rang in his ears as Daniel watched Jack swell with the applause. With the sun behind him giving him a glowing outline and the brown streaks running rampant over his body, the oil which Daniel had so tenderly applied, fairly glistening and his hair all askew and sticking up in tufts, Jack resembled a jubilant warrior, not long returned from victorious battle and partying hard in celebration with his adoring people.

Yeah, well, the harder they fall, Jack, the little voice sang in Daniel's head. His team leader may have the psychological edge, but Daniel had the sheer dogged determination and perseverance to win this third round. Not to mention the technical know-how

He gritted his teeth and waited for the horn to sound.

Round Three commenced and the two men again circled each other warily, at first neither one daring to venture into the oozing mass in the middle of the pit. Then Daniel took a step forward. Jack raised an eyebrow. If Danny-boy could be sporting, then so could he. He took a step forward. Daniel stepped again. Eventually they met chest to chest in the middle of the pit.

As they faced off without touching one another, Jack tried to twist his expression into a sneer but somehow it turned into a goofy kinda grin. Daniel wasn't put off, gazing intently into his opponent's eyes he swiftly raised his hands to rest them on Jack's shoulders.

'Are you really sure you want to do that, Daniel?' Jack warned in a sing-song voice as he raised his hands and rested them on Daniel's shoulders in the same manner. The two men began circling slowly in the mud.

'We could end this really quickly now if you like.' Daniel didn't react. 'Come on, just go down and it'll all be over. I don't want to hurt you, Daniel.' He put slight pressure on the young man's shoulders but Daniel didn't flinch. 'Come on,' Jack wheedled, 'Admit it - you're tired, we're both soaked and dirty and we could go home a lot sooner if'

Whatever Jack was going to say was cut off as Daniel swiftly relaxed his arms, throwing the older man off-guard, then hooked one arm loosely around Jack's neck and with the other wrapped around his shoulder, steadily forced his opponent to his knees.

Jack quickly recovered from his surprise. Well the hell did that come from? Daniel was now putting his full body weight on Jack's shoulders, trying to force him down into the mud. Okay, so are you tryin' to tell me, Daniel, that we're not playing by Queensberry Rules anymore? Sweet. I can deal with that.

Keeping his grip on Daniel's arm around his neck with one hand, Jack quickly reach up with the other and lightly groped at his team mate's groin, not to hurt him, just to let him know. The gentlest of reminders. It worked. Daniel quickly let go of Jack's neck and doubled up into the mud to protect himself.

'That's cheating!' Jack heard him hiss.

'You started it!' Jack hissed back.

Daniel rocked forward on all fours, panting and with a dangerous glint in his eye. Then with a roar he threw himself at Jack, the impact of his weight forcing the other man onto his back and into the deepest part of the mud.

Before Jack knew what had hit him, Daniel scrambled to sit astride his chest, hands firmly on Jack's upper arms, pinning him down. Jack struggled, but the most he could do was grip Daniel's thighs and kick his legs about in the mud.

As the ref started the count down, Daniel grinned down at Jack, his face smeared with streaks of oil and dirt but his eyes gleaming brightly. Jack rolled his eyes and wordlessly conceded defeat.

The referee walked over and pulled Daniel's wrist away from Jack's arm, raising it in victory. Quick as a flash, Jack wrapped his arm around his opponent's waist and pulled him down beside him, giving Daniel a mouthful of mud to spice up the sweet taste of victory. A few moments later, both men staggered to their feet, the appreciation of the crowd evident in the huge round of applause for their efforts.

Jack slung an arm over Daniel's shoulder as they lurched away from the ring.

'Bet you're gonna remember this for the rest of your life, aren't ya Daniel? It's not every day you get to beat the Colonel.'

Daniel grinned wryly. 'Yeah, and I bet you forgot to remind Sam to put some film in the camera, didn't you?'

Jack simply shrugged and wondered whether there was a ritual where he got to wash all the oil and mud off his slippery lover. He hoped so. That was better than a gold medal.

The End