The Senses Series 1

Pheromonal

by Pie

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asp/pie/senses01.php
Summary: What's in a name? That which we call a sweaty archaeologist by any other word woud smell just as delicious...especially to Jack O'Neill

I never really thought much about my sense of smell; unless you were wafting something directly underneath my nose, I was pretty oblivious; unless it was beer, take out, Barbecue or a combination of all three. Three months in a stinking hellhole of an Iraqi prison, courtesy of Saddam however, gave my olfactory, (Jeez, I must get Daniel to quit teaching me this crap) system a workout to rival Jane Fonda's.

It's said that being deprived of one sense makes another more acute - try being deprived of two! Blindfolded and handcuffed 95% of the time robbed me of sight and touch; I've always had damn good hearing and even that was honed by the Special Ops training. Unfortunately, the catering in Iraq was Haute without any actual Cuisine thus depriving my taste buds any chance of further enhancement. So that left my sense of smell.

There were some days in that godforsaken pit, that I wished my nose was as numb as my hands. The accommodations and facilities left quite a bit to be desired, not exactly Five Star more a Black Hole - a damned hot Black Hole with no sanitation or medical care for their guests. There was some water but it was not really used in a beneficial way. But I soon learned that using my nose brought advantages; I could tell the reasonable guards from the completely psycho ones; I knew which interrogation room I was being flung into and I could smell the Iraqi panic when finally, the allies were on their way to rescue those of us that remained.

There ya go, I returned from Iraq with a medal, a busted up knee and a heightened sense of smell; but it took a few years before I could appreciate the latter.

Looking back, I guess it was on my second trip through the Stargate that I first realised its benefits. I stood in the Abydonian Gateroom, ostensibly ignoring Dr. Daniel Jackson, but supra aware of his every move. Suddenly the abstract dreams that had woken me, aching and restless in the early hours over the past year had a face. I got hard...fast! I had to distract myself. I was on a mission for chrissakes and one glimpse of a be-robed archaeologist with broken glasses and shaggy hair and I was toast.

Water might have been at a premium there too, but the scent of hot desert sun on hot male skin sent pangs straight to my groin. Even that 100% proof moonshine could not take the edge off my wayward dick. I had to hang back and let Carter do most of the talking, just to get some control in case it became obvious how good I thought he smelled.

I think I just about managed it with everyone except Sha're. I had always thought her quite perceptive and I think she sensed a threat cos she practically ate him alive before our eyes. I don't know who was the most shocked, the Abydonians or our little group, but Daniel won out as his eyes almost popped from their sockets.

So I was a tad disappointed later back on base, to find him hanging around in a corridor at a loss, showered and dressed in too big BDU's, smelling of Air Force issue shower gel. All that enticing sunshine and sweat washed off his golden skin, even Mastadge smelled good on Daniel. It was obvious to me that he had an overpowering need...to not be alone...for someone to tell him it would be okay...to tell him he would get his Sha're back.

I vowed to bury my attraction – deep - and be a friend, a damn good friend...God knows he needed one.

I tried to be noble, but I hadn't reckoned on my nose trying to undermine all my good intentions.

As I helped him into bed, his odour was blended with beer and tears and I wanted to crawl into the bed with him and hold him.

I know what you are thinking - but you're wrong; it was nothing sexual - I swear. He needed comfort and I was willing to give it, but with the outpouring of emotion and the alcohol...he was exhausted and as soon as his head touched the pillow, he was away. I knelt down and ran my hand through his hair, not sure if I was soothing him or me; but when I lay in my own bed, unable to sleep, I could smell him on my hand, not the exotic, alien Daniel from Abydos nor the vulnerable, lost Daniel from base. It was just...Daniel. I fell asleep.

The next morning he hovered uncertainly as I pulled some clothes out of my closet for him to wear, big and much too baggy - I don't think Sha're could have been feeding him properly! A sudden desire had me reaching for my favourite leather jacket. I helped him on with it and smoothed it over his lean shoulders; Oh God! The proximity of buttery soft leather with the buttery soft skin of a freshly showered Daniel Jackson and my own insubordinate arousal had me feeling glad to be alive for the first time since... well, for quite some time.

Nothing disturbed the status quo that I forced myself to endure, until the first time we lost him on P3X-7...errr The Land of Light. I had beaten the shit out of him, not in my right mind of course, for daring to be concerned about Carter - he was mine, mine, mine! If I'd had a cave handy and the SF's had not pulled me off him, he would have seen just how much touching a primitive alpha colonel was capable of. Later, when I was in my right mind, I was a tad...testy with Hammond for allowing Daniel...and Teal'c of course, to go back to the planet alone.

It's a good thing that everyone knows the hard-assed Colonel is a marshmallow when it comes to Dr. Jackson, because I did not even try to disguise my elation at the moaned "Jack" that came from the dais, where Teal’c had laid him. He was filthy, more out of his clothes than in and only had the vaguest of recollections of his foray into the dark side, but he was intact and alive.

"Ow!" he protested, as I helped him up.

"You've been beaten up a couple of times, Daniel. You'll be sore till the doc pumps you full of happy juice."

He didn't answer; he just rubbed his butt and looked accusingly at me.

I grinned unrepentantly at him. "Primary target, " I offered with only the smallest of smirks.

"Jack, you shot me?"

"What did you expect? You were rolling in something you shouldn't. Next time you ungrateful mutt, I'll throw you in the pond."

Daniel sniffed disparagingly and continued to rub the affected area; I tried to lend an assist but got a slapped hand for my trouble. I wanted to help him back to the gate, but boy, was he still pissed with me. But hot - very hot, a smelly, messy Daniel sparked a blazing trail straight from my nose to my dick.

I was in a good mood though, and even managed to joke with Carter about that cute tank top she wore. I never did ask her if they came in men's sizes.

So, I kept my attraction hidden, sometimes even from myself. He smelled good - so what? So did Maple Pecan Cheesecake! But something happened that made me realise how...necessary he was to me.

We lost him again and this time he was dead!

On Nem's planet. I was devastated, we all were, and perhaps not quite in my right mind. I have lost men before...good men; but the sense of loss at Daniel's apparent demise kicked me hard, right in the Solar Fla....Plexus...yes Plexus and it brought back something of the grief I suffered after - Charlie. I could not do it anymore; I could not lose anyone else I.... loved... it was too tough. I was ready to forget my promise to find Sha're and just.... give up.

When Carter read out my name from his journal, it was like my heart backfired. It was wrong, this whole thing was wrong. I knew it. And I was right.

He burst from the waves like a modern day male Aphrodite. His desert cammos clinging to his saturated, salt watered skin. His eyes seemed bluer than ever as they reflected the sparkling sun that hit the waves, when he stumbled and tumbled from the crystal water. I could smell it all - the fear, the pain, the relief and the empathy for this lonely creature. I resisted a primal urge to grab him and push him down behind a dune and brand him as property of J O' Neill so thoroughly, that every scaly slimeball in the universe would know who they were messing with if they touched him.

Bite me; I never claimed to be pretty.

I covered up my desire with a lame assed joke that was answered by a warm and genuine smile. Daniel hardly took his eyes off me all the way back to the gate, he needed reassurance I guess, and so did I. He was tired, so tired that he did not refuse my shoulder. He was a heady combination of tangy salt and enticing dampness, and alive! By the time we reached the DHD, I was drunk on him.

Over the next couple of years there were many different ways to appreciate just how damn good he could smell on any given occasion, but sometimes there were bad odours too. Ones that I tried to get out of my head but couldn't.

The acrid stink of burned flesh, when he was hit on Klorel's ship, seared my sense of smell all the way back to Earth and only burying my nose in his herbal fragranced hair in the Gateroom could rid me of the stench of it.

The scent of his despair on Abydos a year on, when he lost Sha're again and I had to tuck up a drunken, bereft archaeologist in my spare bed again. I ran my hand through his hair once more and made a silent promise that we would get her back. My love for Daniel just wanted him whole and happy.

One good memory that will surprise you was on that bitch, Shyla's planet. Don't get me wrong; I was madder than hell with my errant, sarced-out civilian when I was thrown on my knees before him. Downright filthy, starving and exhausted as I was, I could smell him...so clean...so new. He barely knew who I was, but after the torture of the mine, he smelled like...heaven.

A few days later, I held him tightly in the cramped confines of a storage cupboard, my nose buried in the damp softness of his neck, as his hot tears soaked my jacket, washing away the synthetically induced bravado. He returned to me, slightly flawed, slightly hesitant, but still mine. My Daniel once more.

Ya know for someone who wears tweed he should not smell so frickin' good. Half the guys on base would rather die than be caught wearing tweed...but they all want to know what aftershave Daniel wears. Carter says if she had a dollar for every Tom, Davis or Siler that have asked her about it, she could afford to dress Daniel in top to toe Armani and that includes BDU's.

Forget the check shirts and the dogtooth jackets, in fact I wish he would. When Daniel steps out of the shower on base it's suddenly the most popular place on the mountain. He looks good, even in the ratty blue robe, but he smells fucking amazing.

In the end, I had to have a word with Hammond; Daniel would go into the shower and it would be just Teal'c and me in there - five minutes later he'd come out and blink owlishly at the roomful of guys who'd decided they really needed to be in the showers just then. I could live with it during the day, but when it began happening during the night as well, it was time to get our own, private SG-1 shower.

Then we lost Sha're for good and for a time we lost Daniel too. Grief can do that - make you only half alive. I tried so hard to be there for him, but to my shame, I failed. I was a coward. Scared that in my efforts to offer comfort, I would cross the boundary and do something that would destroy our friendship. So I kept my distance, never got close enough to smell him ...or to help him they way I should have.

Over the years I've wished that there were a Pheromone cloaking agent for Daniel. One whiff, and every psycho in the universe wants him for their very own. It makes me a tad...antsy, especially when Daniel refuses to let me blow them away. I had pretty murderous thoughts about Ke'ra even before I found out she was the Destroyer of Worlds, no-one but me is allowed to make Daniel laugh like that. After she'd gone, I had some pretty strong words with him about getting between a Colonel with a gun and the soon to be dead person. He listened gravely and then looked at me with his fathomless blue eyes.

"Everyone deserves a second chance, Jack," he said quietly.

What the hell could I say to that?

This last year we’ve drifted further apart; I don't know if it's all my fault, but being missing for three months and then the whole NID sting-a-thon did not help, or leaving him behind in the infirmary, or ordering him to blow the sub, or...FUCK! I would not treat someone I hate that badly, never mind someone I supposedly love.

Today I've had it!

I wanted to sort this out once and for all. I was trying to save our friendship but it's dying anyway; if he's not offworld with another team, I'm thinking of new and creative ways to show him Jack's a first class bastard who does not trust a word the civilian says. Yesterday I made a promise. I vowed that if we got him back from the Unas, I was gonna tell him. Get my feelings into the open.

Ya know rescuing Daniel when he does not actually need it, really pisses me off! I go in, guns at the ready, prepared to be his knight in shining armour to find that he's talked or annoyed his way out of trouble. I think he wears them down by his stubborn persistence.

Now I reckon he wouldn't want to be in the same room as me.

I did not need Teal'c in that damn cave, my nose was leading me to Daniel. I could smell him; unfortunately I could smell his blood too. It's an odour you just can't forget and I've smelled his more times than I care to remember. Once the Unas had realised that BBQ archaeologist was not the dish of the day all I wanted was to get him off that fucking planet...everything else could wait till we were back at the SGC.

I sidled as close as possible.

"Jack, why are you sniffing me?"

Oh fuck! I must have been really obvious.

"You smell like Teal'c’s jock strap." Ooops! Judging by the flinty glare I received, that joke was not one of my best.

Call it cowardice; I just wanted him in familiar surroundings before I broke the news.

Fuck! What was I thinking?

He was lying on one of the infirmary beds, the smell of antiseptic drowning out the scent of Daniel. His adrenalin rush had faded and he looked lost and defeated. I almost caved and got Hammond to do it. It reminded me so much of ...Sha're. That was Teal'c, this is me. Fuck!

I could barely meet his eyes as I told him about Roth...Robert. I did not dislike the guy - but I had never really tried to get to know him. I should have, if only for Daniel's sake.

I told him everything about how it went down, he did not utter a sound, but I could see the shock, the comprehension, the regret and the grief of yet another loss to bear. I stumbled to a halt, could not say another word, could not offer anything at all.

I turned on my heel and left and to my shame I could feel those blue eyes sear my back and still I did nothing. It was unforgivable.

I left the mountain and made straight for the first possible liquor store. I bought a bottle of Irish with the sole intention of getting as drunk as possible. I got home in double quick time.

So here I am. I've failed him. My living room stinks of whisky, which is running in rivulets down the wall, where I've smashed the bottle. I opened it and one whiff reminded me of solitary nights spent drinking after...Charlie. I can't be that person again....I need Daniel.

I wanna cry and stamp my feet and howl, but I can't even do that. I'm just sitting on the sofa looking at the floor.

A small sound makes me jerk up.

Daniel is here? He's holding my spare emergency key in his hand and he looks like a slight breeze would knock him over. He's has that wincing expression on his face, like he's unsure of his welcome.

I stand up and begin to pace. He just stands there, bruised and pale but determined.

"Daniel," I shout in exasperation, "how can you even bear to be in the same room as me?"

"When you told me about R..R..Robert, I could smell your fear Jack."

What?

"What are you taking about Daniel?" He has removed his glasses and I can see the clear blue of his unguarded eyes.

"You were scared, Jack, scared of losing me. All the stuff that has happened between us recently, it was not you pushing me away but afraid of being too close. It took you telling me about Robert to see that. I'm so sorry."

This is just typical of the man, today I killed his friend and here he is apologising to me!

He stands in front of me, a trembling hand reaching out to skim my cheek, pulling me in to his lips. He kisses me, just a featherlight whisper of sensation. He rocks back and looks at me gravely.

"What was that?" I ask like an idiot.

"I kissed you."

I have to know. "D...did you like it?"

His tongue snakes out and licks his lips; he's tasting me and weighing it up, the sneaky bastard.

"Ummm I'm not sure, I think I need more data before I can process," and he leans in again, kissing me more firmly.

Christ, the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of him. I grab him and haul him in and all at once it's a fiery clash of open mouths, tongues and teeth as we grapple and fall on to the sofa.

He's under me and I'm trying to climb into his skin with him. His intoxicating smell, so close, is driving me wild after so many years of self-denial. I'm losing it. Crap! The image of him in the infirmary flashes across my mind.

"Daniel," I gasp, stricken at the thought I may be hurting him. He's already been dragged around by an alpha Unas today and here a supposed alpha Colonel is mauling him too. I bet there's nothing to choose between us.

I sigh and make a sloppy gesture of restraint against his face. "I'm sorry. Lets take it slower."

He smiles up at me, "Jack, if there's one thing I've learned today it’s that we have no time for slow. I want to live and for me, life means you."

What the fucking hell can I say to that? He takes me out at the knees, he always has.

"I love you, Daniel," I whisper.

"Then show me," he demands, his eyes blazing with need.

I slowly peel the rumpled clothes from his body; I kiss every bruise that's uncovered. I touch his skin with reverence and worship him with my fingertips, lips and tongue. He trembles and moans as I work my way down. I have covered every inch of him as I bury my nose into the enticing hair at his groin, I have to restrain myself not to come on the spot as I inhale the sexy aroma of an aroused Daniel. The knowledge that I can do this, make Daniel this unrestrained, feel this with me, makes me want to fucking yell it from the roofs of Colorado Springs. I'm so proud.

I look up at his beloved, flushed face, he is so fucking beautiful in his passion. I crawl back up his body, forcing myself to leave his begging cock.

"Daniel!"

He looks up startled, the hint of thwarted desire evident in his sulky pout. I lean down to gently kiss his lips.

I smile.

"You smell good."

This part finis

Next: A Matter Of Taste