Fangfic 6

Jack's Welcome Home

by DevilKat

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asd/devilkat/fangfic06.php
Summary: Not Supplied

At first I think Lestat has screwed me over, because when I finally shake the wonder and horror of that long flight out of my body-tripping over my feet at the last and landing right on my undead ass-I realize I'm sitting stupidly in the back yard of my own house. Not Daniel's apartment.

Goddammit, you bastard! You said you'd take me to...him.

There's a light on in one of the upper windows. Not electric light, softer and sort of...flickering. Candles? Oil lamp?

Oh.

I'm on my feet in an instant, and the warmth that surges through me totally insignificates the...er...indignity of jet lag. Insignificates? Oh, God, I've been hanging with Lestat a week too long at least. Danny's going to blow it when I lay all this new vocabulary on him.

Danny. Daniel Dr. Daniel Jackson. Keeping vigil for me in the night. Oh, God, what a turn-on!

I think his name three times, like a magic spell. And the warmth blazes into a sea of fire and without even knowing how I'm beside that window, suspended in midair and...

Shit. Not only is it closed and locked...something I could easily get around now with a touch and a word...but it's an upper window. A modern upper window. Y'know...smallish. Not like the nice double doors of glass that fly open so accommodatingly in the Hammer films, big enough to let a platoon of vampires dance in at a time. Or one vampire, plus cape.

So I can unlock the window, then jackknife myself through feet first and fall into Danny's lap like a burglar. That's if I fit, which suddenly I'm not sure of...it's a much smaller window than I remember. Goes to the study, now that I recall. Let's see, I guess I wouldn't land in Daniel's lap, after all. I'd be on the desk, knocking shit all over the place. Probably my computer would be the first thing to go. That's the plus side; don't even want to think about how foolish I'd feel if I got stuck instead. Not the romantic return entrance I want and need.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

I return to the lower level. I'm so pissed off I forget to gently float to earth. In fact, I throw down like a rocket. Nearly drive myself into the ground like a tent stake. And I'm GOOD at this flying shit. Jesus! Can this get any worse?

No. It can only get better. Because Daniel's in there waiting for me and so what if I just have to walk in through my own back door with no dramatics at all?

I walk in through my own back door with no dramatics at all.

Well, at least on my part.

As I'm reaching for the light switch near the door, someone flicks on the one from the other side of the kitchen. Damn, I'd forgotten how ungodly bright electric lights were! I blink for a second or two like a damn hoot-owl. Then focus. And re-focus.

Oh...My...God.

"Hi, there," Daniel says softly.

His glasses are down on the end of his nose and huge blue eyes glimmer softly at me over the top of them. He seems taller than I remember, a bit thinner maybe. Slouching against the doorframe, long elegant fingers still touching the switch lightly. Stocking feet, faded jeans. The black shirt is hanging loose and long, a bit too big on him-shit, it's one of MY shirts. For some reason that makes me feel like howling at the moon!

And it's buttoned up wrong, the collar is consequently askew, and consequently to that I can see a beautiful sweep of neck and collarbone and...almost...part of a shoulder. The tilt of his head means a long frond of hair is hanging partly in his face. Despite the harsh kitchen illumination, to me that hair seems filled with moonfire.

I swallow. The huge lump in my throat seems to go straight through my body and turn into an erection that nearly drags me to the linoleum with its weight alone. Could I really have forgotten how fucking beautiful he is? Nah. It's just my imagination doesn't come close to the reality. Hell, gotta say something. Been gaping a few seconds too long here. "Uh...Daniel." Oh, brilliant, O'Neill!

"Got it in one, Jack. You're good." His voice is still low and mellow, but there's a flicker of something almost...untamed...in his eyes before he banks it down. But his face is gentle. In fact, almost...neutral.

Neutral? Neutral ain't good. Neutral is the OPPOSITE of the look I want to see here; active dislike would be better. I'm not a total idiot, but I feel like one. Better continue the small talk till I figure out WHY I'm not getting the welcome I deserve after all this enforced absence. I wish to hell I had picked up Lestat's mindreading trick after he topped me off, but some things the blood gives you instantly and some stuff you have to practice.

"You...kinda seemed to be expecting me," I remark tentatively, not really knowing what conversational avenue to pursue. An "oh shit" thought hits me then. "Did Janet call? Danny, I would've phoned you, too, but I only had so much time and you already KNEW I'd be back...I mean, you trusted that, right?"

"Oh, I TRUSTED you, Jack. I ALWAYS trust you." He straightens in the doorway, stretches in a way that makes my eyes bug out slightly, crosses his arms in front of him. Not the hug thing, something more aggressive than defensive. "And no, Janet didn't call." A faint smile touches that lush mouth, and only some basic survival instinct stops me from swooping right in and kissing him senseless. "I was upstairs. I saw you flapping at the window like a big...fruit fly."

My jaw drops. "Fruit...what!?"

"Fly. As in, the insect." He finally makes full eye contact with me, and despite all that 200 octane power simmering through my veins, I wince like a wuss.

Fly. As in, the insect that eats shit. Yeah, I got it in one, Dr. Jackson. Romance is truly dead. I thrust out my chin aggressively, hurt beyond words and determined not to show it. "I'm just guessing here, but I'm beginning to think you don't like the new look."

He unwinds his arms, pushes his glasses up to their rightful spot, and studies me clinically through them. I feel like an artifact...but not a very special one. No, I feel like a rock that SHOULD have been an artifact, but turned out to date from 1992 or sometime too recent to be important.

"It suits you," is all he finally says.

I can't stand this anymore. He wasn't like this in the infirmary, goddammit! He was all over me, moaning and rubbing up and DAMMIT! That's what it is...it's got to be. I KNEW he'd regret that once he had time to think about it. O'Neill, you insensitive jackass...

By now I don't care if he knees me in the balls, I gotta have touch. I'm across the room in an instant. "Danny. Listen. About the, uh, thing in the infirmary..."

He doesn't avoid me, doesn't try to stop my arms going around him...and believe me, I do it in the most respectful way possible. Tender and caring and all that stuff. Hey, I can be a sensitive guy. Even with a hard-on so incredible I have to lean forward, bend over, and sort of grip his arms as an embrace; anything pulled closer, he'd certainly realize, I was, uh, not respectful. "Danny, I'm really...sorry...about that. What happened there. Really."

He stiffens slightly...ah, shit, I knew this was the problem! "Oh," he says, in a colorless voice. "You're sorry about that, are you?"

"Hey...not about saying I love you. I do, dammit, more than life itself..." I remember I'm not technically alive anymore, and qualify the statement. "More than anything."

He's pliant in my arms now, not hugging back, head down but maybe listening. In fact he's endangering my cover here; how much can you hug a guy and not let him know you like it-lots? "I...shit, Danny...I didn't mean to pounce on you like that. I know it must have been a shock...you're such a gentle, sensitive soul and I really did mean to, you know, woo you..." I'm proud of this word, and proceed to qualify it also. "You know...romance...candlelight...you deserve that...but goddammit, Daniel, you just jumped into my arms and you shouldn't have done that!"

Actually, you should've done it tonight, but I know I gotta make up first.

He looks up at me then, and to my secret delight there's finally an expression on his face. Only curiosity, but that'll do for a starter. "Why shouldn't I have? Done that? Was it that unpleasant for you?"

"Jesus H. Christ, Jackson, of course it wasn't un....!! I mean...I couldn't control myself! Just touching you would've driven me batshit right then, and here I get a whole armful of you in two seconds flat and you're...doing stuff...and...oh, hell, if I'd had time I would've done a helluva lot more than just bitten you...even though I know how THAT must've freaked you out..." I run out of words and just stare at him woefully. I am such a bastard.

He's very still for a moment, studying me gravely. Then he sighs, and somehow he's extracted himself from my grip with a quick move that I certainly don't remember teaching him.

"C'mon," he throws over one shoulder as he pads towards the living room. "We need to talk."

Talk! Been talking. I'VE been talking so much my jaw is cramping up here. I'm not the one who's playing Mr. Monosyllabic on this particular occasion, thank you very much. I trail him through the hall and across the living room, beginning to steam a bit with righteous indignation. I'm busting my hump trying to fix things here and we still "need to talk"?

I think I may have muttered some of this out loud, because he turns quickly, what might be a smile tugging at his lips, and stops my advance with a feather-light hand on my chest that's just as quickly removed. "Jack." He looks down, looks up again. "It's nice...I guess...that you want to, er."

"'Er', Dr. Jackson?" I inquire in my most formal tone. I almost forgot that he called me a fruit fly. I don't intend to help anymore.

"Woo me, as you so elegantly put it." He shudders slightly. "The thing is...Jack...you've been wooing me for over a year and I'm...well...enough's enough! I know you're not going to believe this, but I'm not the romantic one here!"

I gape at him. "What the hey? I don't get it. I haven't been..."

"You have." His gaze is now dead on me, steady as a rock, and beginning to turn stormy. "Beer and steak dinners and video dates and barbecues and trying to interest me in hockey games and even, God love you, trying to bone up on archeology. I FOUND that "Digging for Dummies" manual in your office, Jack!"

"Shit." Ever seen a bloodsucker blush? It's hard to do, the hemoglobin is different and the blood pressure's too low. But I have a feeling I'm giving it my best shot here.

"It's...sweet...of you." He kind of shudders again. "But honestly, I was afraid you'd die of old age before you ever made a move on me. Though I guess that isn't a problem now," he footnotes himself, thoughtfully. "I was going to just jump you myself on the last hockey date if you lost your nerve AGAIN. Oh, and by the way, Jack, I knew there wasn't a hockey game on that night...and two other times before that. I check the Internet schedules regularly to find out...YOUR game plan."

I don't need to feel my hurt dignity to maintain silence now; I'm absolutely speechless with shock. And not as happy as I thought I'd be that his mouth is finally back to mile-a-minute normal.

He shakes his head sadly. "Pretty wussy, Colonel. Two aborted passes. And one big fumble. Cancel the date, request action with another team to take your mind off it, and end up getting...killed?" Oh, now we get the body hug, the distressed look.

Then he's over it, and I'm getting storm central again. "My point is, Jack, I'm thirty-five years old, not sixteen. And I'm not your virgin girlfriend, and I don't want to meet your parents, or get married, or be handled like a damn piece of...of...glassware!" His eyes are molten wildfire now. He looks like Lestat's cute little brother. "I have absolutely no interest in being wined and dined any damn more, Colonel O'Neill, got it? I wanna fuck!"

Did I say I was speechless? I am SO speechless. I think my jaw hit the floor here. No, but my mouth is flapping and nothing's coming out. There's a word. Surreal. This conversation...monologue...is totally surreal. Hearing Danny say "fuck" is more mind-boggling than becoming a vampire fifty times. I'm gonna wake up any minute now on PX whateverthehell and everything except the boner in my pants will have been a dream.

He's watching me carefully, waiting for a comment, and when I can't get anything out he says balefully, "And if you apologize again for what you did...when we...I think I'll hit you. Because I liked it." He swallows. Licks his lips. "A lot. It didn't injure my gentle, sensitive soul in the least!"

I finally manage to stutter something out, and it sounds stupid even to me. "Danny. Are you okay? This isn't...like you."

He tilts his head, and actually smiles. I don't like that smile one bit. "Oh, really? You think you know what I'm like?"

"Uh, Danny..."

"I know you have a list of catch-phrases for what I'm LIKE, Jack. Let's see if I get all the major ones." He begins to tick off on his fingers, snapping off the words like zat shots. "Sweet. Cute. Klutz. Clueless. Do-able." His eyes are practically lashing my face now. "Got 'em all?"

"Daniel, listen, you're over-reacting here, I never said..."

"All adding up to the Dweeb special...helpless!" To my great alarm, he actually begins to stalk towards me. "I..."

He's in my face, and I take an automatic pace back. Wo-ho momma, what have we here?

"...am NOT!" Another two steps this time, and he slams against me. Hard. My own attempt at backwards motion dumps me onto the couch. I sprawl there, legs spread, staring up at him as he takes that last long graceful gliding step which brings him right between my thighs, against my crotch, kneeling there and grabbing his shirt with both hands...no, MY shirt dammit, I knew there was some sneaky reason he had it on...

"HELPLESS!" It's a sort of hissed scream, practically in my face again, as he rips MY shirt off HIS body, so near to on top of me it makes no difference. Buttons ricochet off me. One bounces off my nose. I don't give a damn. I reach for him, all that bare golden chest and rib cage and oh shit, now that long concealing shirt is gone I can see I really shouldn't have worried if he was glad to see me. He is. Absolutely, incredibly...enormously...happy to see me.

He pulls back from my frantic grasp anyway, managing to dodge without relinquishing his position. In my lap, in my face, but not in my arms. "What now?" I moan. "Danny...have a little mercy here!"

He leans forward, almost kissing close, and whispers, "Am I, Jack?"

My fried brain cells process this. Can't touch him till I get it right. Ah, ha. "Not helpless. At all. Gawd, no."

He looks pleased. Leans forward that tiny bit more, and swipes my lips lightly with a long, pink tongue. Surprising a groan out of me that seems to please him also. "Or sweet."

"Not the least bit sweet," I avow with fervor. I'm a believer on this point. Tonight has convinced me.

He smiles, and it's actually a good one this time, tender but full of fire. Gently but purposefully, his knee nudges me right in the groin. Moves around a bit. Turns me into a colonel-shaped piece of goo that might as well just exist as life-support for my cock. "Nor clueless, nor a klutz."

I remember those moves that got me to the couch. "Hell, no!" I've never been jacked off by a knee before. It may turn out to be the experience of my life. Oh, god...feels so...

"Cute?" His knee's still moving. I'm beginning to writhe against it.

"Cute...uh...well, Danny...to tell you the truth..."

He scowls. The knee disappears from my general area, and I hurriedly babble, "Not the least bit cute no no ugly as sin in fact pleeeze, Danny!"

He considers this and finds it acceptable, given my rapidly liquefying condition. To my total delight, he replaces the knee with...God!...his hand. Lightly squeezes my whole sizzling length through the black leather. "Do-able?" he purrs softly. His lips are against my ear now, tongue flicking out lightly. I'm two seconds away from total freakin' meltdown.

"More than ever, dammit!" I moan helplessly, and grab for him again. This time I won't let him squirm free. I'm a vampire, fer cryin' out loud! I can kiss...no, that should be kick...his butt!

He pulls back slightly, but only to smirk in my face before giving in, falling down, right on top of me and into my arms. I reel him in and he lets me. "Love you too, Jack," he whispers softly, and his mouth is on mine in the softest of romantic kisses. "Welcome home..."

I enjoy all that sweetness for as long as I can. I process, with wonder and joy and gratitude, that he's finally admitted he loves me back. And then with one swift move I've got him underneath me and my tongue down his throat.

Hey...I may be slow, but I'm not stupid. Had enough wooing? I wanna fuck?

Oh, Danny. Thank God.

Me, too.

Next: Trusting The Vampire