Kylie Lee | Slash fan fiction

"Hey."

Daniel Jackson looked up and, distracted, immediately turned his eyes back to his computer. "Hey, Jack," he said. As usual, he was running late. He hadn't slept well last night, and he had been kind of hoping he could avoid seeing Jack before he left.

"So today's the day?" Jack O'Neill asked.

"Yes, it is." Daniel removed a CD from its drive and then shut down. "Okay. That's done." He wrote the date on the top of the CD with a Sharpie and tossed them both in a drawer.

"You don't seem very relaxed," Jack observed. "Calm down."

Daniel stacked books. "Jack, I'm running late."

"Daniel, you're going on a diplomatic mission. What could happen? It could even be fun. Definitely relaxing. No one will shoot at you, for example."

"I don't think diplomatic missions are any less stressful for me, and they're more likely to poison me than shoot me." Daniel picked up a Styrofoam cup of coffee, but before he could take a sip, he wrinkled his nose. It smelled terrible. "Oh, god. How long has this been here?"

Jack took it out of Daniel's hand and sniffed it. "Couple days at least," he said. He placed it gently in the trash. "Hey, would you mind giving something to Jonas for me?"

"From you?" Daniel said, surprised.

"Yes, from me."

"Like, a present? For Jonas?"

"Don't know about a present. A thing."

"Well, sure."

Jack reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and drew out a small photo album. On the front, it said, "Our Pride and Joy," and it was decorated with drawings of jaunty balloons and fat babies. "Wal-Mart," he said unnecessarily, handing it to Daniel, who suppressed a smile.

"You're sending him pictures," Daniel said. "That's really…sweet."

"I'm a sweet guy."

Daniel shook his head. "I don't know about that." He started to open it, but stopped. "Can I look?"

"Sure."

Daniel paged through. There were pictures of mountains and trees; a well-lit picture of a tank of fish; and shots of personnel on the base doing everyday things. He stopped at one of Janet Fraiser. It showed her face, threateningly large and slightly out of focus. In one hand, she held a small light, presumably to check the viewer's throat. She looked pissed off.

"Ol' Doc Fraiser didn't want her picture taken," Jack said, leaning over to see where Daniel was. "But I thought it turned out okay, except she was too close to the camera so it didn't focus right. But I think it really captures her essence."

"Who took this one of you?"

"Sam."

"It's—it's cute. Oh, and this one of all of us is good too."

"Yeah, I like that one. Look! Teal'c is smiling."

"Wow." Daniel was impressed.

"Do you want a reprint?"

"Um, sure. Can I get that one of ol' Doc Fraiser too?"

"You got it."

Daniel shut the book. He was oddly touched. "I'm sure he'll love it."

"Well, he left in kind of a hurry, so I figure he might want something to remember us by. Oh—it's all been approved by the higher-ups, so don't worry about that." Jack leaned against Daniel's desk. "When I was going through stuff after Charlie died, the pictures I liked best were of him doing normal things. It wasn't so much the ones at Christmas or Thanksgiving or whatever, but the ones of him riding his bike, or helping his mom garden, or me feeding him peas when he was a baby. The everyday things. I figured Jonas might like to remember everyday things."

Daniel added it to his bag. "You're not the only person who gave me something to give to Jonas," he said. "Sam gave me a bag of Oreos. Is there a story there?" He couldn't imagine anybody wanting Oreos when Sam was capable of making very fine chocolate-walnut cookies from scratch.

"Probably. I don't know what it is."

"And Teal'c wanted me to give him some really trashy novels. Luckily, they're paperback."

Jack perked up. "Trashy? What are they?"

Daniel poked around in his duffle to reveal a title. "They're by some guy named Tom Clancy."

Jack looked scandalized. "You've never heard of Tom Clancy?"

"No."

"Then how do you know they're trashy?"

"Because Teal'c liked them?"

"Yeah, okay." Jack checked his watch. "You due at the Gate in ten minutes. Want me to walk you?"

Daniel ran through a mental checklist, then gave it up. Ten minutes wouldn't matter. He had his backup briefed; his computer logs on the network were up to date; he had asked Teal'c to feed Jonas's fish—now his fish; he'd remembered to lock the door to his apartment; and he had packed. Anything else would just have to not get done. He cast his eyes one last time over his messy desk and sighed. He virtuously did not look at the translation he was putting aside to go on this diplomatic mission. "Sure, I'd like that," he said.

Jack leaned down and hefted Daniel's duffle as Daniel pulled his backpack on. Daniel was dressed in green military issue, as though he were going on a mission, and he'd tied a green kerchief flat to his head to keep his hair back. "What did you get Jonas?" Jack asked.

"Nothing," Daniel said.

"Nothing?" Jack held the door open. "Or are you the present?"

Daniel flushed. "Jack."

"Daniel."

"I have—I have a couple bottles of California wine for a dinner party Jonas is having." It was more than a couple bottles, and they were heavy. That was why he was glad the books from Teal'c were paperback and therefore light. Daniel felt like a pack mule.

"Sounds like a present."

They walked side by side through the corridors, chatting. Because they were carrying things, people moved to the side to let them pass. Jack asked him questions about his plans, and Daniel told him what he knew: Jonas Quinn had invited him to spend a week in Kelowna as his guest. During the brief occupation of Kelowna's capital city by Anubis a few months ago, there had been some shooting and some blowing up of things, and this activity had accidentally unearthed some interesting artifacts. Jonas, a former member of SG-1, was curious about the artifacts, but he was now a diplomat, not an explorer. His duties meant that although he had access to the site, he didn't have much time to study it, and he had no official role on the excavation team.

But Jonas's time on SG-1 had given his natural curiosity a boost, and, as Jack had remarked of Jonas, he was nothing if not curious—and persistent. He had pared his official duties down to the bare minimum for the week Daniel was to be there and wrangled access to the artifacts. He thought Daniel could help him study them. Working together, they could learn a lot. Daniel got the impression that Jonas had talked Daniel up to the excavation team.

"So you'll be working and being all diplomatic," Jack summarized. "You dig some, you translate some, and then you meet the locals and impress them."

"That sounds about right," Daniel said. "Jonas asked me to bring two sets of dress-up clothes, so I guess I get to go to parties." He prudently didn't mention that one of them was in his honor, and the other was at the interim first minister's residence. He didn't feel like getting teased. They could read his mission report when he was done.

"What fun," Jack said. He stepped over to the side and tugged on Daniel's sleeve. Daniel let himself be tugged. He kind of thought he knew what Jack was going to say. It was why he hadn't wanted to talk to Jack before he left. "About Jonas. I want you to know," Jack started, and then he stopped.

Daniel tried to head him off. "Thanks." He made his voice as repressive as possible, but he knew it wasn't going to work.

Jack said, "Okay."

Jack paused, but before he could gather himself, Daniel broke in. "Jack, really, thanks. It's okay." He knew his eyes were silently begging Jack to drop it.

Jack didn't drop it. "I know you and Jonas are…close."

Daniel corrected him. "We were. We were…close. I don't know if we're close any more."

"But you've been writing."

"E-mail that our superiors see."

Jack shrugged. "There's that. Just so you know that I hope for—for whatever you want."

Daniel didn't say it, but he didn't have to. He looked at Jack, and he knew Jack knew. All his hopes and his fears—Jack knew them all. He always did.

"Danny," Jack said. "I wasn't kidding. You're the present. It'll be fine."

Danny. Jack only called him that when they were alone, when the intensity, the understanding between them, was particularly strong. They'd had one awful, awkward conversation, right when Daniel had regained his memory, when Daniel had told him that Daniel and Jonas had become lovers.

"Hey, guys."

Daniel turned, relieved. "Hey, Sam," he said. "Teal'c."

"What, Daniel, having a chat two minutes before your Gate date?" Sam pointed. "Come on, let's go."

"We are here to wish you farewell," Teal'c announced.

Daniel hid a smile as he and Jack fell in with their colleagues. "What are you doing for vacation?" he asked. His diplomatic mission had triggered their vacations. They all had time coming.

"Fishing," Jack said.

"Ishta," Teal'c said, and smiled. He'd been doing a lot of that lately.

"Analysis of naquadria," Sam said. "We got some small samples from Kelowna yesterday." At Jack's look of disgust, she just shrugged and grinned. "What can I say. It's fun!"

"Well, as long as nothing changes while I'm gone." Daniel swung into the Gate room just as the Gate activated, stumbling slightly as he misjudged the distance and knocked his backpack against the door. Jack tugged his jacket to steady him.

"Perfect timing." Sam hugged Daniel and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Jack dropped the heavy duffle and gave him a manly pat, and Teal'c inclined his head in a formal nod of farewell.

"You have a go, Doctor Jackson," the disembodied voice of General Hammond said. "Kelowna has responded. Give my best to Mr. Quinn and his colleagues. You're to check in every other day."

"Understood," Daniel called up. His heart had sped up, and he felt a little dizzy from nerves. He messed with his kerchief, his fingers fumbling, and accidentally untied the knot. He spent a long few moments as everyone watched him, trying to retie it. He couldn't, so he just took it off and stuffed it in a pocket. He turned back to the rest of the team. "Thanks for seeing me off," he said. "I'll see you in a week."

"Don't get kidnapped," Jack advised. "That always happens when I try to go on vacation. In fact, the only reason I'm standing here is because I'm not officially on vacation until tomorrow. Tomorrow, I'll just bet you I'll be hangin' with Thor and his buddies."

"I'll try," Daniel said. "Bye, everybody." He started up the ramp, then realized he'd left his duffle behind. "Oh, wait," he said, turning back. "I just need—this bag—"

"Bye now," Jack said, arms crossed, watching Daniel fumble with the duffle's strap, which had come loose.

"Yeah," Daniel said. He finally got the duffle's strap reclipped. "Bye." He shot them all a smile as he hefted the bag and adjusted his glasses. Sam waved.

He didn't look behind him as he mounted the incline to the standing water of the Gate. His heart was in his mouth when he stepped into the event horizon, and then there was no going back.

***

"What did you say it was called?" the ambassador from Terrania asked.

Daniel set his own wine glass down. "Shiraz," he said. "It's actually very trendy right now on Earth." He leaned back so one of the caterers could take his empty plate. "Thanks." He looked across the table at Jonas, who, as host, was sitting at the head. Daniel, as guest of honor, was at the foot. Jonas was wearing what even to Daniel's uneducated eye was clearly a very expensive suit; somehow, his attire made him seem remote. He seemed to sense Daniel looking at him; his head turned, and he smiled briefly at Daniel. Daniel's heart sank. It was an impersonal smile, a collegial smile, not the smile of conspirators trapped at a dull party. Daniel turned back to the ambassador. "It's, um, from California, a region of my country noted for its vineyards."

"It's very good," the ambassador said. "I wonder if we could arrange a trade agreement?" She smiled to show that she wasn't serious, but if Daniel decided she was, she could be. "Or perhaps some vines?"

"Vines, I think I could arrange," Daniel said, studiously ignoring Jonas. "But I don't know about the variables—humidity, the soil's acidity, microorganisms. You'd end up with a different product, a local one, but it could still be very good."

"Excuse me," Jonas said, rising. "Thanks, everyone. Dessert is in the solar. Feel free to join me whenever you wish. Bring your wineglasses—there's more wine if you like."

"Oh, good, dessert," the ambassador said, pushing her chair back. "Thank you, Dr. Jackson." She smiled up at Daniel as he politely pulled back her chair, but before she could take his arm, he stepped back with a head duck of apology and retrieved his wineglass. She'd been very attentive ever since she'd asked him about his wife and he'd said he was a widower.

The solar, a large, open room with big windows that no doubt opened onto an impressive view when it was daylight, had chairs grouped into intimate collections or three or so. A large table had been set up on one side, and it contained platters of small, bite-size desserts. Daniel had managed to free himself from the ambassador who had monopolized him at dinner: she had been scooped up by Dreylock, the Kelownan ambassador, who, rumor had it, was in line to become the next first minister when the elections came up. He put a discreet three pieces of dessert on a little plate and let a server top off his wine. He stepped off to the side and watched the other guests, all, like him, dressed in their best. Daniel looked outre in his dark blue suit and red tie. The Kelownans, regardless of sex, all wore comfortable, wide-legged trousers. People from the Andari Foundation wore beautiful, intricate clothes that tended to long tunics over slim trousers. He hadn't been able to figure out what made Terranian dress distinctive. But his eyes kept going back to Jonas. His dark blond hair had been slicked back when the evening had started, but it had begun to assert itself and was sticking up. It made him look boyish.

Daniel awkwardly held his plate, little napkin, and wineglass in one hand as he tried one of the sweets. The one he tried first reminded him of pecan pie. As a rule, he didn't mind parties, but he just wasn't in the mood. He'd stepped through the Gate, heart hammering, eager to see Jonas but terrified at the same time, and he'd been greeted by a remote stranger with too-neat hair and an entourage. They literally hadn't been alone for a moment. There were always drivers or executive assistants or caterers around, even though, after a quick tour of the dig site that was supposedly the reason Daniel was there, they'd gone to Jonas's flat. Jonas had shown him a little bedroom upstairs and Daniel had dumped his luggage. Daniel gathered that Jonas was organizing some kind of project that was separate from his duties advising the interim planetwide ruling council that had been hastily thrown together after Anubis's visit, but he was unclear on the details, and Jonas wasn't forthcoming.

Worst of all, Jonas had given him no clues at all as to the status of their relationship. Daniel took his cues from Jonas, and Jonas was courtesy and professionalism personified. He couldn't tell if it was a result of their never being alone, or because Jonas felt differently. They'd only had a week together, after all, when Daniel, without his memory, had been found by SG-1 on Vis Uban and brought back to Earth. He and Jonas had become lovers, but Jonas had held back, implying that there was someone else, someone Daniel would want to return to, once his memory came back. And soon after Jonas had gone, it had.

"Doctor Jackson," a voice murmured in his ear.

"Ambassador Dreylock," Daniel said, hastily swallowing as he turned to her.

"Nice party, isn't it?" she asked, nodding at the colorful swirl of people. "We hardly ever get to see each other socially. And when we do, we all talk shop. It can't be interesting for you."

"Usually, when I go to parties on other planets, I spend all my time trying to figure out how to avoid insulting my hosts," Daniel said. "How loud must you burp, for instance? Is it polite to eat everything, or do you leave a little bit? Or do you smash your dishes when you're done?"

"Smashing dishes? Really?" Dreylock laughed.

"Oh, yes. Especially glasses, after a toast. You hurl them into the fireplace and shout."

"I like that," Dreylock said. "What a lovely custom. Maybe you can convince Jonas to adopt it. He can start a whole new trend."

"Does he have a fireplace?"

"I think there's one in the living area, but I don't really remember." Dreylock took a sip of wine. "He's changed a lot since I first knew him," she said, indicating Jonas, who was politely inclining his head to an elderly woman. "Of course, he was being groomed as an aide in government, and his parents had high hopes that he would seek office himself. Such a brilliant boy. Enthusiastic and idealistic."

"And now?" Daniel asked. He agreed with her assessment: Jonas was enthusiastic and idealistic, and now he knew why he was so disturbed at Jonas's demeanor: both of these qualities seemed dimmed somehow.

"You tell me."

Daniel shook his head. "He seems—remote to me. I saw his enthusiasm earlier today, at the dig site, when we had a tour. But maybe he's not the type to get enthusiastic when hosting dinner parties. I guess I'd say that now, his preference is to be in the field, not in the office."

"I'd have to agree with that." Dreylock set her dessert plate on a table behind Daniel. "But someone with Jonas's focus tends to get what he wants."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, he may be stuck on Kelowna for now, but he's thinking of ways, projects, to get him back into the field, even if he can't leave the planet."

Daniel smiled. "More Kelownan plotting?"

"Absolutely." Dreylock tucked her arm in his. "Come on. I want you to meet one of my counterparts."

Daniel spent the next hour or so being polite. He mingled, and even though he was in the same cluster of people as Jonas more than once, the remoteness he had mentioned to Dreylock was still there. Jonas would meet his eyes and smile, but there was nothing there. The lump in Daniel's stomach grew larger and larger, until he couldn't even force down tiny sips of wine. He used his glass as a prop, to have something to hold onto. He felt like a total idiot, thinking that there was still something between him and Jonas. He didn't know how to get out of staying at Jonas's flat and finding a hotel without insulting absolutely everyone—the notion of staying in the same house with this stranger was intolerable. He toyed with excuses that would get him out of the diplomatic mission altogether, send him running back to Earth, even as he knew that he was stuck. He watched as Jonas's hair grew wilder and wilder as the night wore on, seeming to reflect Daniel's increasingly hysterical emotions. Jonas had a tendency to run his fingers through it, setting it on end, but the contrast of the old Jonas's hair with the new Jonas's polite eyes was striking.

Dreylock started the exodus of guests by being the first to leave. Daniel, as guest of honor, was apparently expected to stand in the foyer and shake everybody's hand in farewell. Jonas alternated between finding people's coats and shaking hands too. Daniel noticed that Jonas was able to say something personal and kind to every single guest, referring to conversations they'd had or sending his regards to a family member or colleague. It seemed to Daniel that although Jonas preferred life in the field, he was well suited to being a diplomat. Those dark eyes seemed to focus in on each guest, implying that he or she had been the most important person at the dinner while giving away nothing. The guests responded with smiles, intimate touches on the arm—signals that they reciprocated the regard. Jonas and Daniel stood side by side, murmuring polite words and shaking hands, not looking at each other, together but not together. The last people to leave were the caterers, laden with neatly boxed equipment. They declined offers of help out to their cars, and when Jonas shut the door behind them, it was with an air of finality.

Jonas firmly locked the door behind them; he let the polite mask he'd been wearing fall. He simply looked tired. "Oh, that lasted forever," Jonas groaned, leaning against the door. He rubbed his face and deliberately messed up his hair. "Did my hair stay down?"

Daniel shook his head. "Sorry, no."

"I knew it. I put stuff in it to make it stay down."

"I don't think it's very effective. You should just let it go where it wants," Daniel advised. "It could be your signature look."

"Yes, because I'm just the kind of guy who has a signature look," Jonas said ironically. "Maybe I can grow it longer or something."

"Do we need to—to clean up or anything?" Daniel asked, looking around. It seemed very quiet with everyone gone. They were finally alone, and he couldn't meet Jonas's eyes. He didn't know what he'd done wrong or how to make it right between them—or if Jonas even wanted that.

"Oh, no. The caterers took care of all the kitchen stuff, and the cleaning service will come tomorrow."

"Well, it was a nice party. I like your flat."

"Thanks." Jonas undid the top few buttons of his dress shirt. "Notice I made no attempt to cook."

"It's good to know your limits."

"I've never really had an interest in cooking. I don't take after my father in that regard. You'll have to meet him." Jonas smiled at him, and it was a real smile this time, one that touched his eyes. He'd finally let his guard down. Jonas crossed to Daniel and tugged his tie gently. "We should go to bed."

"That's a—that's a good idea," Daniel said. He tried to translate "bed" mentally: did it have connotations of intimacy, or did Jonas mean bed, as in bed? "My, um, my bedroom is really nice."

"I'm sorry we didn't have time for a complete tour. Did you wander around, find everything?"

"I found a bathroom down the hall."

"So you don't know where my bedroom is." Jonas began unknotting Daniel's tie, and Daniel's heart accelerated. The uncertainty he felt was dissipating with Jonas's nearness, with Jonas's willingness to touch him. "To get there, you keep going past the bathroom, and it's the next room on the right." Jonas went to work on Daniel's shirt next, unbuttoning it slowly, starting at the top. He had to work a little to get the buttons through the starched fabric. "Your bedroom is for your privacy, and for all your things. But I was kind of hoping you'd consider spending the night. In my bedroom. In my bed. With me. If—" Jonas bit his lip rather than go on, and when he lifted his eyes to meet Daniel's, Daniel saw hope, and fear.

Daniel's stomach unclenched as he revised his sleeping plans. "That sounds—really good," he managed.

The relief in Jonas's face was palpable. "If you want, I could leave at two or three in the morning. If it would make it more like old times." Jonas resumed unbuttoning. "I could go sleep on the couch or something."

Daniel put his hands on Jonas's neck. "No," he said definitely. "Beside me. All night. So we wake up next to each other." He'd dreamed of that when they had been together on the base. Jonas had always left. He traced small circles on Jonas's skin with his thumbs. Jonas's brown eyes locked with his, and when Daniel finally, finally leaned down to kiss him, it was just right. It was perfect. It was better than he remembered, because it was real, and remembering wasn't. They kissed gently, almost tentatively, as they got reacquainted, and somehow, it undid Daniel more than if they had ripped off their clothes and gone at it on the dining room table.

"Jonas," he murmured, and Jonas said, "Daniel," and for a few minutes, there was really not much else to say.

"Can we—?" Jonas asked.

Daniel nodded. "Yes."

"Are you—?"

"No."

Jonas wrapped his hands in Daniel's shirt. "No, I mean, are you—are you available? I was afraid—I thought maybe—"

"I'm available." Daniel took in Jonas's earnest face. "I thought maybe you weren't. I mean, from the letters—but they were reading the letters. I thought maybe I misread them—that I wanted it so I saw it. Because you wouldn't say one way or the other when you left."

Jonas pressed against Daniel. "When I left, you didn't have your memory back."

They had to clear the air. "You want to know about Jack." Daniel made it a statement.

"You don't have to tell me anything."

Daniel wound his fingers in Jonas's messy hair. Jonas turned his head and put his cheek on Daniel's chest, hiding his face. "You should know," Daniel said. "I never—I never slept with Jack. But we have this connection. We never acted on it. Everyone seems to know about this thing with Jack. I don't know what they think we're up to. The connection hasn't gone away. He's in the military and can't do anything about it. He loves me. Are you okay with that?"

Jonas didn't answer right away. They rocked together, chest against chest. Jonas felt dense and solid in his arms. "You love him," Jonas said at last.

"I guess I do. Yes."

"Do you love me?"

Daniel considered. They weren't looking at each other. The conversation was too direct, too painful. "I'm more than halfway there," he said at last. "We were together before for a week. And we have a week now. But the whole time we've been apart, when I dream about making love, I dream about making love with you. In my head, I've made up a future with you and me. Not me and Jack. You and me." He pulled back a little, and Jonas looked up at him. "Do you love me?"

Jonas smiled. "I'm more than halfway there," he said.

"Are we good?" Daniel brushed Jonas's cheek. He felt giddy from relief. The sick knot in his stomach was gone.

"Yes. We're good."

Daniel drew Jonas's hands around and placed them on his belt. "Where were we?"

"Here," Jonas said, unbuckling him. He turned up his face. "And here."

For a few minutes, they clung to each other, kissing and murmuring. Then Jonas steered them toward the stairway that led to the bedrooms upstairs. They moved slowly. Jonas slid Daniel's tie off and threw it on the floor. Daniel retaliated by removing Jonas's jacket. By the time they got to the stairway, their shirts were unbuttoned and open, and their jackets and shoes littered the hallway.

"Your skin," Daniel said, stroking Jonas's back as he followed Jonas up the stairs. "The glyphs washed off." When Jonas had left, he'd still had the faint traces of the glyphs Daniel had marked on his body.

"So did yours." Jonas turned, his forefinger tracing the giant Gate symbol for Earth he'd drawn on Daniel, pubic bone to sternum to other public bone.

Daniel looked down, half-expecting to see it, but he saw only his bare skin. But he didn't need to see the marks on either of them. Daniel touched the places on Jonas where he had written the glyphs that named Jonas. It was as though they were still there for him to read, to make sense of. "Scholar," Daniel said breathlessly. "Foreigner." He kissed the next spot and moved his lips against Jonas's skin as he spoke the word. "Beloved. Beloved."

"Home," Jonas said. He put his hand on Daniel's side, where Jonas had written the Gate address for Kelowna, so that Daniel would always remember it. "You came home to me."

Daniel's arms tightened around Jonas. "You looked so far away," he gasped. "Your hair was all neat and you didn't look like yourself at all."

Jonas seemed to understand him. "I wasn't sure you felt the same way," he said. "I thought you would go to Jack. I thought you came to tell me. But you didn't."

"No," Daniel said. "Not Jack. You. Every night." Jonas's erection pushed hard into him, and Daniel rubbed himself against Jonas, sending a shock of pleasure through him. He'd relived his and Jonas's encounters over and over again, every touch, every kiss. "Every night, I thought about you. Because you're real and I can have you, and because I want you. I want you so much."

"Please," Jonas whispered, taking a step backward, up to the next stair. It brought them face to face.

Daniel pulled Jonas close, the heat of Jonas's groin a shock against his stomach as Daniel kissed him hard. Jonas kissed him back, breathless. Daniel fumbled with Jonas's waistband, until he could slide Jonas's trousers down. Jonas's hard cock stroked Daniel's bare stomach.

"Wait—" Jonas gasped, undoing Daniel's trousers. Daniel involuntarily closed his eyes as Jonas's hand wrapped around his length.

"Oh, that—that feels—" Daniel said incoherently as Jonas caressed his length. He dipped his head and nipped at the juncture of Jonas's neck and shoulder. "Oh, yeah." He rubbed his face against Jonas's chest as the red heat of arousal spread from Jonas's hand to Daniel's cock and up through Daniel's body. His trousers and briefs slid down around his ankles. "Here." He moved his mouth down Jonas's body, enjoying the taste, the feel of Jonas's tender, almost hairless skin. His body hair was so fine that it was invisible, but Daniel could feel it against his mouth. He bit gently.

"Hey," Jonas said, surprised, as he abruptly sat down. "Sorry—are you—"

"Mmm," Daniel responded, pushing Jonas back against the stairs. "You should see yourself," he murmured, grabbing Jonas's shirt and opening it. "All dressed up. This look really works for you."

"Oh," Jonas said, closing his eyes and relaxing against the stairs as Daniel knelt on a step, Jonas under him.

Daniel took in the sight of Jonas's golden body, cock hard and red, shirt open and pants down. His own body throbbed with relief and desire. He remembered the first time he'd seen Jonas, back on Vis Uban, before he'd known who he was. Even then, he'd been drawn to Jonas: Jonas seemed confident, intelligent, and unobtainable. He'd wanted Jonas from the moment he laid eyes on him. Now, Jonas's body was under his, yearning as much as his was. Daniel trailed his mouth down Jonas's stomach, and when he took Jonas's cock in his mouth, his own balls tightened.

"Oh," Jonas said again, voice low. His fingers feathered through Daniel's hair.

Daniel moaned as he sucked. The taste and smell of Jonas surrounded him, and he grew more aroused as he pleasured Jonas, because he was also pleasuring himself, reveling in the joy of Jonas's body. Jonas seemed impossibly large and erect in his mouth, but Daniel took him in easily. When he brought his head back on each upward stroking motion, he couldn't bear to release Jonas, so he kept Jonas's glans in his mouth, playing with the head with his tongue before sliding his mouth down again. Jonas kept his fingers twined in Daniel's hair. Daniel tried to pace himself, but his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own: he found himself sucking harder and harder, until Jonas's hand left Daniel's head and closed around Jonas's cock, squeezing the base.

"Stop," Jonas gasped. "I'm going to come. Stop."

"No," Daniel said, releasing Jonas's cock and climbing up a stair on his knees. He draped his body over Jonas's. "Come for me. I want you to come for me."

He kissed Jonas as he had just kissed Jonas's cock: hard and relentless. Daniel's balls tightened as Jonas's hand wrapped around his cock and began stroking. The sensations of Jonas's body under his, of Jonas's hand on his cock, Jonas's hot mouth under his, cascaded. He fumbled a little as he shifted his weight to his knee. His hand found Jonas's cock, and he matched Jonas's strokes so they rubbed in tandem. He sucked Jonas's tongue into his mouth. His need for Jonas, his desire, blazed out of him in a wave of longing, fueled by Jonas's touch, by Jonas's body under his.

"Mine," he gasped into Jonas's mouth. "You're mine."

Jonas made a noise. His body arched against Daniel's, pushing hard, as if fighting to rise, and Daniel felt wet heat on his hand. Suddenly the pleasure was so acute that he couldn't breathe. He came with a roar of blood in his ears. He felt Jonas's chest heave under him, and Jonas's cries joined his, their bodies straining together as they peaked.

He collapsed on top of Jonas, utterly spent, breath harsh and irregular. He'd waited two long months for Jonas to be in his arms again, and now he had no idea how he could have waited that long. "Jonas," he gasped, winding his free hand into Jonas's sweat-darkened hair. The kiss was breathless. "Oh, Jesus." He released Jonas's cock and slid his hand around Jonas's side, spreading stickiness.

"Daniel," Jonas said, and Jonas's brown eyes told him everything.

Daniel realized he had been an idiot to fear that Jonas no longer cared for him. He cared so much that he'd been terrified, just as Daniel had been, that things had changed between them during their time apart. But they hadn't changed at all. Their bodies still spoke to each other. They still wanted each other, only the separation had turned want into burning need. The polite masks had been in place to try to protect them from having to show how much they wanted—an attempt to save face, to give the other space, to try to take it slow if that's what the other needed, or to let the other go if that's what he wanted. The doubts had been incinerated by the power of their lovemaking. Now they could begin building something together.

"I wanted you and you came," Jonas whispered. "You remembered, and you still wanted me." He opened his mouth under Daniel's, and the kiss sealed what their bodies already knew. "Forgive me," he said. "Please forgive me, Daniel."

"There's nothing to forgive," Daniel said, knowing they would have to talk about it sooner or later, but, just for now, wanting to defer it. Jonas had stood aside and done nothing while Daniel gave his life for Kelowna. He didn't know what that year of exile had been like for Jonas, but he imagined that, consciously or not, Jonas sought expiation. "Nothing at all."

"Jack never forgave me, because you died."

"I'm not dead. I'm not dead, Jonas. I came back."

Jonas pulled Daniel tighter, and as Daniel kissed him, Jonas relaxed, until finally they were simply twined together on the stairs, kissing lazily, sweat and semen drying on their skin. Jonas finally said, "You're heavy," and Daniel rolled off. The stairs dug uncomfortably into his back, and he was starting to get cold.

"We should go to bed," Daniel said.

Jonas responded, "What a good idea." He closed his eyes and relaxed onto the stairs. "I can't believe we didn't make it to the bedroom."

"Well, we were really happy to see each other."

Jonas smiled at him, and it was the old Jonas, his Jonas, again: boyish, enthusiastic, charming. "Let's try this again," he said, caressing Daniel's chest.

Daniel smiled back. "Would everyone be mad if we didn't make it to the dig tomorrow?"

Jonas shook his head. "Mad? No. But it would be—politically unwise."

"I'm feeling very politically unwise. Why do we have to get out of bed?"

"Maybe we should get into it first."

"Good idea. Because I'm here all day and all night, for a week."

"It's a start," Jonas said.