Part 11
Jack was slumped in his chair watching the game on the television, his dull eyes not really taking in the images before him as his mind started to close down in the early stages of twilight sleep.
Back on the base earlier he and Daniel had both changed into their civilian clothes then they went to dinner together at Shrivers, where Jack preceded to drink too many beers in an attempt to dull out the worry in his mind.
He was glad that Daniel didn’t ask him once about Philip or the relationship though. In his state, he wasn’t sure what he might have let slip, so he was glad that they stayed on a far more neutral topic – discussing his favorite football team instead. Even that managed to make the two of them squabble though! Daniel disputed him over semantics – just like the old days! In fact the whole feeling of the evening reminded Jack of the old days - before everything went strange. Back to the days when he was pining for his friend in some odd kind of unrequited love. Back to a time when Daniel would stay weekends, sleeping on his sofa and eating him out of house and home. Back to a time.. before Philip.
His eyes started to close over, and then they'd jerk awake again when he heard the slightest sound from outside, believing it to be Philip finally returning home. When nothing came of the noise, however, his eyes would lull shut again, only to spring open once more on the slightest sound. Eventually he fell into a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.
*
He couldn't be sure how long he'd been there when he was woken by Philip's soft voice, and gentle shake.
"Hun, hun..." The younger man jiggled his arm in order to wake him. Jack's eyes slowly opened, taking a long while to focus then he groggily raised his hand and patted Philip's face.
"You're home?"
"Yes," the librarian said as he got to his feet, slipping his arm across Jack's back and lifting him from the chair. Together they stumbled along the hall together and Philip recognized the scent of beer on Jack's breath. While co-operative, the older man was next to useless though and several times Philip almost lost control of them both, expecting to hit the floor at any moment. With some luck though, they made it to the bedroom where Jack fell, face down, onto the bed - his arm and legs hanging over the edge and end of the unmade bed.
"Aw babe.. don't do that.." Phil puffed as he straightened up and started coughing. Once he'd caught his breath he reached across the sleeping man and gripped him firmly by his shoulder to roll him onto his back instead.
"Didn't think.. you'd.... come.." Jack murmured in a sleep and alcohol induced stupor as he was flung onto his back, arms and legs spread wide again.
"You didn't call me," Philip told him between coughs. Taking a moment to catch his breath again he looked at his lover, hearing the soft snore that clearly told him that Jack was fast asleep - again. After swallowing air to quell his urge to cough again Philip picked up Jack's foot and undid his shoes and then reached up to unfasten the pants he was wearing. Finally he managed to divest Jack of his pants and shoes but left the socks and sweater on him. With that battle over, he then had to tug the bedding from beneath the unconscious man enough to lie some of it across him.
He straightened up, his chest heaving from the effort. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Tilted his head, he looked down at the man asleep and realized that it had been a very long time since he'd 'really' looked at Jack. Short, gray bristles littered his cheeks and the frown crease between his brows was pronounced as he lay against the cream-colored pillow. Throughout the scrutiny Philip breathed deeply, vigilantly keeping more burgeoning coughs suppressed but soon he was forced to leave the room or risk waking his peaceful lover - if that was possible!
In the bathroom he used one of his spare inhalers as soon as he could draw back enough breath to, then he settling his trembling body onto the closed toilet seat and waited. Soon the medication dilated his constricted passages, allowing him the ability to draw more satisfying breaths without coughing. As soon as he felt the welcomed air rush into his starved lungs without the need for great effort he rose, gripping the hand basin for support as he stood on weary legs.
He’d woken in Todd’s arms and leapt from the seat, muttering something about having to get home. The older man mumbled something before falling back to sleep again. As he grabbed up the phone and jacket Phil checked for any messages and found it odd that the phone was switched off. He tucked the unit into his pocket and quickly ran from the loft, quietly and carefully shutting the door before racing down the stairs, two at a time.
He walked the streets, which seemed abandoned in the very early hours of the morning, and had made it all the way to Jack's house within half an hour. By that time though he felt exhausted. Wearily he’d climbed the steps to the front porch and then entered the house. He immediately saw Jack asleep in his chair and grimaced as he realized he had two choices: wake him up and take him to bed, or leave him there. He hadn’t walked thirty minutes to sleep without him, so he tried waking Jack up. Right now, as he waited for his breathing to calm down, he’d wished he’d left him there.
Now he stared at the image reflected in the mirror before him and barely recognized the face. He touched his fingers to his cheek, then raised his chin and let his fingers glide down his stubble-covered throat as he twisted his head this way and that, checking out how gaunt he'd started to look. After a quick peer around the doorway, to check that Jack was still asleep, he gripped the hem of his top and slowly inched it up his chest. He stared at his torso, clearly beginning to show the ravages of his disease. Closing his eyes as bitter tears stung at them he dropped the top down, unable to look at what he was becoming. He turned off the light and moved to the foot of the bed.
As he stood, staring at the man that he loved more than life itself these days, he began to unfasten his jeans and then he kicked off his shoes. Moving more quickly now, he bent over and shoved his pants down, leaving them in a puddle on the floor. Rounding the bed, he went to his side and pulled a pair of sweat pants from the drawers, jumping into them as he reached to turn out the overhead light.
He slipped into the bed behind Jack, cuddling into the back of his lover as he snaked his arm around the sturdy body. Finding the bottom of Jack's sweater he moved his hand inside the warm top until he'd reached the thatch of hairs on Jack's chest. With a contented sigh he rubbed his fingertips into the springy patch. Jack gave a soft groan as he shifted slightly, rolling back against the smaller body behind him. Phil placed soft kisses on the creases at the back of the older man's neck then he snuggled against him more, tucking his legs into the fold of Jack's longer ones. The semi-conscious man's hand moved to entwine their fingers together then he murmured, "love you," sleepily.
Phil smiled as he uncoiled his other arm, which had been tucked under his head, and he reached to touch the tip of Jack's ear lightly. "I love you too, Jack," he whispered then pressed another kiss to the tender spot behind his beloved's ear. "Please, never forget that. No matter what."
Jack's hand contracted around his in response, making him smile as he snuggled even closer to the warm body before him. Soon they were both asleep.
*
By the time Jack woke the next day the shadows across the floor indicated that it was late morning. He reached behind him and, in the first few moments of wakefulness, expected to find Philip beside him. A quick check of the space though told him that he was alone in the bed. He lay quietly, listening for any sounds in the house that would indicate that his lover was awake and perhaps in another room - but there were no noises.
Jack scrubbed his hand over his face, wondering if he didn't imagine that Philip had come to him in the middle of the night instead. Rolling onto his back he felt his heavy erection bob under the weight of the bedding. He lay there momentarily, trying to ignore it and the ache within him, but finally he slipped his hand under the blanket and pushed his shorts aside - waking himself up in the way that Philip used to.
He first tried to imagine the artist was with him - but fantasies escaped him these days. Closing his eyes, and his mind, he mechanically relieved himself, barely even flinching when he came all over his own stomach and fist. He got up immediately and went to the bathroom, considering whether he should call Philip - check to see if he was all right. Check to see if he realized that his cell phone wasn't working. Check to see if he really did come home last night.
As he scrubbed the shampoo into his short hair he decided that he'd actually called in and see him - face-to-face always worked better for him. If Philip had a problem with him or if he was hiding something, Jack would rather see it now than discover it later.
Arching back to rinse his hair clean he was aware that his bedroom phone was ringing. The reason he heard it so clearly was because the cordless handset was actually sitting on the vanity unit in the bathroom. Closing one eye as suds inched closer to it, Jack reached for the receiver and answered the call.
"O'Neill."
"Hello, is this Mr. O'Neill?"
"That depends. Who are you?"
"I'm Marilyn, and I'm calling from "We Clean It" Carpet Cleaners."
"Ugh, you know, I'm kinda in the middle of something here. Listen!" He held the phone out towards the running water then put it to his ear again.
"Oh, well my question is pretty short.."
"So's my patience!"
The caller giggled. "So Mr O'Neill, what state are your carpets in?"
"Same state as my house. Colorado."
Again the caller giggled.
"So Mr O'Neill..
"Listen Marilyn, this has been fun, but my partner's on their knees in the shower at the moment.. if you get my drift.."
"Oh!"
"So thanks for the call. Buh-bye!" He clicked off the phone then settled it onto the vanity unit once more, making a mental note to move it to the bedroom as soon as he was finished.
Jack stepped under the spray once more, shaking his head in the running water to rinse the foam from his scalp. Throwing his head back, he gasped for air as he ran his hands tightly through his short locks, like a squeegee, to remove the excess water. Blindly he reached out of the cubicle again and leaned out while he made call.
"City Library, this is Todd," said the chirpy male at the other end.
Jack frowned at the unfamiliar, and unexpected, voice. Where had Elise gone – she usually answered the phone there? "Sorry?"
"City Library. Can I help you, sir?"
"Oh, Um, is... Philip Simmons' there?"
"Phil? Oh..." there was a muffled sound, like someone covering the mouthpiece then Todd returned to the line. "Phil's in a meeting at the moment. May I take a message for him?"
"Meeting, huh?" Jack knew he sounded suspicious, but so did 'Todd'. "No. It's okay." He sighed with resignation as he rubbed his eye.
"If you like, I can leave him a message?"
With a somewhat snaky sneer, Jack said, "no, it's not important. I'll call back later."
"Oh," the man sounded a little anxious. "He's pretty busy all day. If you like, I can put you through to his voice mail and you can leave him a message?"
Jack's stomach was churning now. Did Phil know he was calling and was off to the side, redirecting the call? "No, thank you, Todd. It's really not important."
"Sure? Oh, okay then, Bye!" And with that cheery send off the line went dead. Jack slowly put down the receiver then shook his head. Who the hell was Todd? Jack knew everyone that worked at that library so when did Todd start working there, with his damn singsong voice and peppy manner?
Without thinking, Jack grabbed the receiver again and dialed another number. It rang for a while then it picked up.
*Daniel Jackson.*
"Hey Danny!"
* Oh, hi Jack... * He sounded a little puzzled. *What's up? *
"Nothing's up? Why does there have to be something up for me to call my friend?"
*Ugh, because normally no one hears from you from the moment you step out of the mountain to the minute you step back into it these days... And," there was a quiet pause, "Is that running water?"
"Yeah," Jack told him casually, "I'm in the shower."
There was another silence then Daniel asked, "You're calling me from the shower?"
"I just wanted to know what you were doing about lunch today?"
"Um, nothing."
"Want to meet at Schrivers'?"
"Shriver's? Again?”
“We could go somewhere else?” Jack offered.
Daniel seemed to know why the colonel had chosen that restaurant though. It was practically opposite the library.
*When?*
"Whenever? I'm free now so we could meet up and have a few at the bar first?"
*Oh, um, okay..*
Jack smiled for the first time that day. "Cool. See you in about ten minutes then."
Daniel agreed and hung up then Jack stepped out from the shower, hurrying to his room to find something to wear.
*
Stories on this page are the property of Nessessitee and Slida. Please do not copy these without the written permission of the Author. All Rights are acknowledged for MGM, Gekko and Stargate Productions as to the Copyrights of the characters within this story and no infringement on the copyrights are intended. For the Bombshells Series the character of Philip Simmons is entirely the creation and intellectual property of Nessessitee and Slida.
While the performances given by RDA and MS help to fuel the author's desire to write for their characters in a niche that she feels is present on the actual show, the portrayal of their characters in loving relationships in no way reflects the Author's opinion of the men's private life, nor should it be construed in that manner.