Fangfic 4

Daniel Gets Annoyed

by DevilKat

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asd/devilkat/fangfic04.php
Summary: Daniel talks with Teal'c and Lestat talks to Jack

"What...precisely...is a 'vampire'?"

Well, I guess I was more upset than I thought, not to have seen that question coming. Teal'c has been getting a lot of exposure to our culture, but it's been...well, Jack...who did the main work there. Every week, regular as clockwork, he'd drag the big guy from base and expose him to some aspect of human life and entertainment. Hockey game, of course, but also WWF wrestling. Opera another evening, then a Cheap Trick concert. Whatever happens to be in the area and look interesting. The fishing trip, I think, went down so poorly a lot because Teal'c had been exposed to more...exciting...Tau'ri events first.

And when interrogated on his motives, Jack of course swore to blue blazes he just did it because he was tired of all the dumb questions. And me and Sam and Janet all nodded and said, uh huh, Jack. Sure, Jack. We haven't got a clue to the generous heart inside that crusty old military bastard. You hide it so well, Jack.

And on some days, he truly does. Good thing he can't fool his friends.

But I guess horror films wouldn't have been included in the weekly lecture tour. In fact, I know so. 'Cause amazingly enough, the "explanation" that first pops into my head is in Jack's very words.

"Vampires are dead dudes who bite neck and suck blood and make other dead dudes. Not my thing, Danny. No, I don't CARE if Francis Ford Copulate directed it. I don't care if Larry, Moe and Curly Joe directed it. And if YOU'RE interested just because of who directed it, probably means it's full of really incomprehensible, artsy stuff. Chose any other video...oh, hey! 'Escape from L.A.' is out! Better grab 'Escape from New York', too...ever see it? Kurt Russell's awesome in that!"

I groan to myself. Why again do I love this man? Well, does it matter? Just remembering his words, hearing his voice in my head belittling my taste for the umpteenth time, makes me ache with loneliness for him.

"DanielJackson?" Oh, no, I've been spacing a little too long; I'm not only getting the questioning eyebrow, I'm getting the concerned very-slight head tilt.

Okay, okay. Gotta think here. Can't use Jack's definition; need something more...positive. After all it's Jack who'll be coming back as one, and if we're still gonna work as a team, Teal'c needs to believe that's not a bad thing. Oh, joy...this should be a challenge.

Jack. Coming back. Soon. Gotta be soon, or I'm going to die of...whoa. Focus, Dr. Jackson. Answer the question. "Ah. Vampire. What is a vampire? Well...it's complicated, Teal'c. Very...complicated."

"Indeed." He knows I'm stalling, indeed babbling, but is gracious enough not to mention it. "I realize it is a difficult thing, to separate this subject from the emotional and sexual experience you have encountered." He then ponders the situation for a time. I meanwhile very scientifically ponder the way Jack's face looked when he said he loved me, and the memory of the way his hands felt gripping my ass and pulling me hard right into his...dammit. Teal'c just shouldn't have mentioned the other aspects of the situation at all. Not like I need any word cues like "sexual" and "emotional" to get me going.

"You say you have been studying this intensively. Do you perhaps have...videos on the subject?"

Videos! What an ass I am; the very thing I've been thinking of. And there's nothing Teal'c likes more than a good video. Or a bad one, the truth be told. "Oh, yeah; I've got...dozens." And books, original notes and manuscripts from times long past, but he won't be interested in that.

"And do you perhaps have...popcorn?" His voice is almost sensual; I roll my eyes at the drama involved here. Teal'c plus video plus popcorn equals one contented Jaffa.

"In the kitchen, top left shelf third rack. Microwave. Loads of fake buttery flavoring." He sighs in heartfelt appreciation, and I have to grin a bit. Gee, first time in WEEKS. "I'll pick you out a few good movies."

He heads for the kitchen with a purposeful stride. I hit the den and dig through the tapes I've been researching. Positive vampire, nice loveable vampire, where are you?

"Blood and Donuts", nope; a likeable vamp but too over-the-top and a sad ending to boot. It would only confuse him. "Love at First Bite", okay, a little dorky but sympathetic. "Fright Night"-good movie, not pro-vampire. Hide it. "Interview with the..."

It's funny. It's...odd. I'm holding this tape in my hand and suddenly the sleep comes on me like a wave.

The sleep has come for me several times this week. Not from sunrise to sunset, as the legends insist. Probably because, I'm well, still alive. Just a bit infected. And it's usually just for an hour or two at a time...but at the weirdest times. It's about seven o'clock at night right now, and suddenly I'm drowning in the need for...oblivion.

I wonder if it happens this way to Jack?

I stagger to the VCR, clutching the two tapes I've chosen, shove one of them in for Teal'c and place the other on the lounge chair. Then I manage to find my way to the bedroom.

Jack's bedroom. Jack's bed. Didn't change the sheets before he...died.

So glad. I haven't done laundry since then, either. Call me a slob...

I snuggle down and bury my face in the smell of him, am pulled down into the dark midnight waters, and begin restlessly to dream.

And this time, for whatever reason, my prayers are answered. Because I'm dreaming of Jack, and what he's...doing. Right now.

First time for this. I always dream of him, but usually it's that one and only vision, rerun endlessly from the past, his mouth all over me, his teeth...not that that's so...bad.

This is different, more like a live video feed. I know it's him, I know it's now. But it's only the sound part of the video...the screen is...blank.

First there's music...seems a mix of rock and classical. Heavy and yet achingly melodic. A powerful, haunting voice.

I'm straining to listen, startled even in the depths of dreaming by the words. Which are abruptly switched off and replaced by a terse, exasperated voice. One I know very well indeed.

"Goddammit, where do you find this stuff? Not enough I've started to whistle Type O Negative tunes, you gotta play hymns to Osiris all freakin' day. Give a man a break here; I've heard of leaving the TV on all day, but this is getting to me!"

There's a muffled reply, as if from across a room. The voice is indistinguishable, but I think the words are "Music-hater..."

"Am not. Like opera. Like Tom Petty. Like anything that isn't totally WEIRD."

Noises I can almost identify. Muttering, footsteps. The sound of...ah, a refrigerator being opened. Then a beer, ditto. Then Jack is talking again. Everything is almost supernaturally clear and crisp now, soundwise. Still no picture.

"You're absolutely sure I don't get a complimentary cape in this deal? Thought it was standard issue; looking forward to swishing around in it." I can't see Jack, can't see anything but darkness-even though I strain my internal eyesight till huge, soft crimson clouds seem to fill my vision. But I know the tone well. Drawling and insolent; I bet he has a mock-innocent, sarcastic-who-me? look on his face, too.

Before I can marvel at the way just hearing his voice makes me feel-and it's all warmth and longing, pleasure/pain very like being kissed by soft lips and hard fangs, and just as confusing-something bad happens.

Something answers him. And unfortunately this, too, is now extremely audible.

"We've been over this, O'Neill." I don't know this-voice? It's not a human speaking, I know that instantly. This voice is fire and night turned into raw silk. Beautiful, dangerous...amused.

I hate it and it's owner immediately, on a deep and primal level I never felt before. Except maybe when dealing with Apophis.

"And I believe the conclusion we came to is that you're a very vulgar individual indeed."

I'm furious at the insult, even though I normally would sort-of agree with the assessment. But now I want to kick whoever this is right in the butt! Then shoot him. Then shoot him again. Not in the butt, in the head. I'm shaking with the violence of my feelings. I'm not like this. What can possibly be wrong with me?

To my amazement, Jack answers cheerfully. He isn't offended at all. "Aren't we talking pots and kettles here, Lestrade? All that lace strikes me a tad tacky. "

Oh, dear. I know what's wrong with me now.

I'm jealous as hell.

The--vampire (Lestrade? I have a name now, vaguely familiar, but it makes no sense to me). That dangerous, amused voice isn't JUST amused. It's almost...affectionate. And Jack's tone-as he'd put it-is "right back atcha" on that one. Even through the mockery. Damn him. He's gonna pay for this, big time. He's not supposed to LIKE the bastard who took him from me! "Love you, Danny"...yeah, right!

"Lestrade was a bumbling Scotland Yard detective who was constantly being made a fool of by Sherlock Holmes." That voice I'm coming to hate with a passion is no less silky, but I think quite a bit less affectionate, and suddenly I'm scared not angry. Oh, Jack, be careful. "My name is Lestat."

"Goats," Jack shoots right back at him, as if he's been waiting for this opening for days, "are ugly hairy critters who eat tin cans and butt you one in the ass. Gou'ald are freaking parasites with delusions of grandeur." He pauses dramatically. "Remind you of anybody?"

This comment hangs in the air like the afterburn from a staff blast. The sudden silence in my brain is deafening,

I'm screaming inside, fighting with the darkness, gotta wake up, somehow save Jack from dying again, this time for good...LESTAT...oh, Jack your freakin' big mouth just doesn't know when to shut...

Unexpectedly, the dark laughter fills my head like music.

...the hell up?

"Point taken, O'Neill." Even more affection than before. Oh, do I hate him. More than I've ever hated any supposed-to-be fictional character in my life. "Your chess game seems to be...improving."

"Nah..." Jack drawls it out like...deliberate provocation. "Your backhand's just gettin' weaker, old boy."

Ever heard two ghouls snarking it up in delight at their own wit? I think...I think I hate BOTH of them.

Weeks of hell. I'm studying every dumb vampire legend in recorded history trying to figure out who might have taken him, frantic with worry, missing him so much I half the time cry myself to sleep-this weird, otherworldly sleep that's the opposite of restful-and come to find out he's HAVING FUN? Playing with fire and not only getting away with it, but using it to barbecue chicken? That is so damn JACK it's not funny.

"Love you Danny"...my ass! If I can hear him in my sleep, what I want to hear is...well...something similar to what I've been doing on the nights when the missing him becomes too much. Lots of moaning involved. Crying out my name in sheer desperation as he comes all over himself.

DAMMIT. I am so pissed off! Sure, Jack, you've missed me that much...not your fault I just happened to listen in on the wrong night. The night you seem to be on a one-upsmanship date with Fangface!

The crimson clouds in front of my eyes aren't so soft, now-more like a haze of blood. And then I'm gasping, jerking awake in a flailing of arms but it's okay, it's Teal'c. Shaking me from a nightmare, he's done it before. Holding my arms down with gentle strength so I don't hurt myself...embarrassing, but comforting.

Except...ah...that's not what's happening. What's happening is that Teal'c is flying across the room and hitting the wall. He makes a sound when he collides, very much like "Oof!", and even though I'm appalled at what I've done the noise is so...well, un-Teal'c-like...that I nearly burst out laughing.

Then I'm hating myself and scrambling out of bed, running to his side. "Teal'c! I'm...I didn't mean...I'm sorry."

"Do not apologize." Although his voice is steady as ever, I can't help but notice that both his eyebrows have jumped so high they're nearly on top of his head. "I am uninjured, save in dignity."

"Er," I say. Linguist to the last, as Jack would say.

Jack. That FUCKER.

Teal'c is eyeing me carefully. He seems in no hurry to move from his position against the wall. "You were growling in your sleep, DanielJackson. I have never heard such a sound from you before. I was concerned." He studies me even more closely, and states quietly, "I am STILL concerned."

Oh. That would be because I still seem to be growling. It's trickling from somewhere deep in my chest, completely involuntary; I focus like crazy, still can't seem to shut it down totally, Teal'c is REALLY starting to give me the hairy eyeball here...

The phones rings. Thank God. It snaps me out of whatever I'm falling into, and I leap across the room and snatch it up before realizing that maybe I should've screened the call with the answering machine first.

Fortunately, it's Sam. "Daniel?" Even before I can decide whether to say "Hello" or not. "Daniel, are you..."

"Yes, Sam. I'm here. What's up?"

Something is, it's obvious just by her voice. She's called me here before, depressed and bewildered, trying to squeeze the truth out of me. All I can tell her is that I don't believe Jack's dead, that I'm sure he'll return, and that she'll probably understand everything when he does. It was almost too much for me to explain to Teal'c; the only reason I managed was that I KNEW a) he wouldn't think I was crazy and b) even if he did, he'd never allow me to be thrown in a padded cell ever again. Not that I don't trust Sam, too...but how many times could I retell a story like that before I really did crack? I honestly don't know.

But now her voice is a bewildered mix of joy, disbelief, and rapidly growing exasperation. "You'll never believe who called me earlier tonight. Well, left a message on my machine that explained nothing. But CALLED Janet. And he didn't know I was there, and you know how tough Janet can be. She MADE him explain."

"Uh...Sam? Are you saying...Jack...called...you and Janet?"

"Yes, didn't I? Oh, sorry. My head is spinning, just a little. Daniel, you were right, he's alive...he said he'd probably be back tomorrow..."

"Uh-huh," I say, woodenly. Jack had time to CALL Sam. And Janet. Uh-huh.

"But I'll bet you can't guess the utterly ridiculous line of bull he had the nerve to tell us...well, tell Janet, but I had my ear pressed to the phone." She pauses expectantly.

When I don't make any response, she says softly, as uncertainly as I feel now, "...or...CAN you, Daniel?"

I sigh quietly. Teal'c is gazing at me somberly and with concern. Sam is making questioning squawking noises in my ear. Jack is coming home...tomorrow?

And I will be killing him. For good, this time. I wonder if one of his hockey sticks could be modified into a useable stake?

I don't want to heave another sigh in her ear, but I can't seem to help doing so. "Even better than guess, Sam. I'm sorry I didn't...before. Let me tell you all about it."

Well...most of it. The parts that I'm not suddenly, furiously regretting.

Next: Warriors Of The Dark