Kylie Lee | Slash fan fiction

"That's it, young lady," Jack said, leaning over Jonas, who was sitting on the floor by Sam's feet rather than sitting next to her on the sofa, and taking a half-empty glass from her. He held it up to the light and swirled the ice, liquid, and lime around. "I'm cutting you off." He sat back in the armchair across from her.

Sam held up a finger, as if she were about to speak, then started to giggle. "Sorry," she said, trying to stop. "Sorry, sir." She covered her mouth. It didn't help.

Jack sniffed, then downed the rest of the drink. "Delicious," he proclaimed. He turned when someone joined them in the family room, expecting Daniel, but it was Sam's fiancé, Pete. "I cut her off," he said, raising the glass. "One too many gin and tonics, I'm thinking."

Sam stifled another giggle, then put her arms on her legs, leaned forward, and started to laugh in earnest.

"I leave for a minute, and I come back to a totally different party," Pete said, shaking his head in sadness. He held two beers by their necks in one hand and a drink in another. "Look, honey! Look what I brought you!"

Sam wiped her eyes and sniffed. "Oooh, thank you, thank you." She reached for the glass. "I am not driving," she said when Jack gave her a look. "This my house. I live here."

"I cannot deny that," Jack said as Pete pointed to Sam and mouthed, "There is no gin in that glass. No gin." Jack gave Pete a big okay sign with his thumb and forefinger and winked broadly. It was good to see Sam so relaxed. She hardly ever drank too much and got silly. Pete was good for her. "Pete, did you see Daniel? Where did he go?"

"He was on the back patio a minute ago. I don't know who he was talking to. Some guy." Pete pivoted. "Here you go, Jonas." He leaned down to hand Jonas one of the beers, then sat on the ground next to him, back against the sofa. His shoulder nudged Sam's leg. "So what do you mean, you can't make it to the wedding?"

"Well, you see, I'm…from another planet," Jonas said. It had become the catch phrase of the night. "So it's hard to get away."

"I understand. I understand completely," Pete said. "So your accent. It's not East Coast, like I was thinking?"

"Now, it's funny you should say that." Jonas tilted his beer at Pete. "Because no. It's an alien accent."

"So you have no explanation?"

"No explanation whatsoever. Sheer coincidence."

"Huh. What are the odds." Pete took a sip of beer and winked at Jack. "So what are you doing in town?"

"Oh, just helping Daniel out with a thing."

"A thing."

"A classified thing," Jack said warningly.

"A thing…from another planet?" Pete asked, eyes wide, all mock innocence.

"Why, yes, Pete, in fact, it is a thing from another planet." Jack popped one of Sam's ice cubes in his mouth and crunched. He wasn't sure whether Pete was taking any of this seriously or not. They could speak the perfect truth, and Pete would be convinced they were kidding, even though he knew about the Stargate project.

Pete pointed at Jonas. "But not your planet."

Jonas shook his head. "Nope. But can we get back to colors, please?"

"What is with this guy and colors?" Pete demanded.

"It's a whole thing with him," Jack admitted. "Alien, you know."

"Yeah, so I hear." Pete turned back to Jonas. "It's a morning wedding, so I wear gray. And an ascot thingie around my neck instead of a tie."

"Aha. So appropriate wedding colors depend on the time of day. Good to know." Jonas twisted to look at Sam. "Colonel, what color do you wear?"

"Candlelight," Sam said promptly.

"Wow. Really?"

Jack and Pete mouthed the word "Candlelight?" to each other in unison.

"Really." Sam squinted at her drink. "Honey, there's no gin in here," she said, patting Pete's head.

"I waved the gin bottle over the top of the glass after I poured in the tonic," Pete said. "What, it isn't enough? What more do you want?"

"Actual gin." Sam sighed. "And yet. It's too much work to walk into the kitchen and wave it over my glass while it's pointing downward."

"Candlelight," Jonas said thoughtfully. "Is that really correct for a morning wedding? It sounds like a color you'd wear at night."

"It means white, Jonas," Jack said. "Brides wear white. It signifies purity and virginity."

Sam started laughing again. "Sorry," she choked. She took a sip of her drink.

"So what do you think of Jacob?" Jonas asked Pete, referring to Sam's dad, clearly trying to turn the conversation.

"Now, him I haven't met."

"Really?"

"Nope."

"Because…and I'm sure you know this…"

"…He's from another planet," they finished together. "Well, Selmak is," Jonas amended.

"So you've met him?" Pete asked. "What's he like? What colors does he wear?"

"I've only met him a few times. You should really ask General O'Neill here."

"Yes, my good friend Jacob, aka Selmak," Jack said. "He wears a lot of red, with sequins. Festive guy. Also, odd hats."

Sam said, "My father, the cross-dresser," and began laughing again. "Not really," she told Pete. "I'm sorry, I just flashed to Jamie Farr. My mind just…went there."

"I always admired Corporal Klinger's taste," Pete said. "The handbags really pulled his look together, don't you think?"

"That's Jacob, aka Selmak, to a T," Jack said.

"Okay, so what I don't get is this: all the Js," Pete said. "We have you, Jack. We have you, Jonas. We have Jacob. And we have Daniel Jackson." He emphasized all the "J" sounds. "Coincidence? I think not." He lowered his voice. "It's a conspiracy."

"An alien conspiracy?" Jonas asked, also in a low voice.

"I assume so. But you tell me. After all, you're the one from another planet."

"I'm involved in another conspiracy, not this one," Jonas said. "And my legs are going to sleep." He stood up and stomped his feet. "I am going to find the bathroom," he announced, setting his beer down on the coffee table, which had been pushed over to the side.

"Don't use the one in the basement," Sam advised. "The toilet just runs and runs if you flush it. I haven't had a chance to fix it yet. I stuck a sign on the door, but who knows if it's still there."

"Yes, well, Daniel went to the bathroom forty-five minutes ago and hasn't returned," Jack said darkly. "We'll send out a search party if you're not back in two hours."

"Good idea." Jonas gave a salute. "I'll send Daniel in if I see him."

"You do that."

"Nice guy," Pete said after Jonas left. "How is he not from the East Coast?"

"Beats me," Jack said. "I've often wondered myself."

"And isn't he sweet, calling my little patootie 'Colonel.'" Pete patted Sam's leg condescendingly.

"He is sweet," Sam said. "You can sit up here with me, you know."

"I can do that." Pete lifted himself. "So he's got the same job as Daniel? With archaeology and translating and stuff?"

Sam nodded. "Yep. Well, he did. I'm not clear on what he does now. Some kind of diplomat-type thing with his government, with research."

"So I get this vibe like something's up with him. Is something up with him?" Pete looked from Sam to Jack. "What? What? He's not sweet? He's evil?"

Jack crunched another ice cube. "'Evil' is perhaps too strong a word," he admitted.

"Sweetly evil?" Sam pondered. "There was this whole trust issue with Jonas."

"In that you couldn't?"

"Precisely." Jack stuck his finger in the ice cubes and swirled. "You've hit on it."

"There was a whole big thing," Sam told Pete. "Jonas was kind of indirectly responsible for Daniel's death."

Pete looked blank. "Daniel's not dead," he pointed out. "Unless the reason he hasn't come back is that someone did him in and buried him in your back yard. Which I think is unlikely. I'm speaking professionally here, as an officer of the law."

"Classified," Jack said warningly. He did not want to talk about Jonas, or Daniel and Jonas.

"Why am I not surprised." Pete put his arm around Sam and kissed her cheek. "Honey, we should definitely send him a wedding invitation."

"Sure, I was going to. But he can't possibly make it."

Pete shrugged. "Well, then he'll have to send a present. What do you think an alien would send us? Something cool, I bet."

"Oooh, good point."

"Better send an etiquette book with the invitation," Jack advised. Jonas would love it. "That way, he'll know to get a gift. And he'll know that the color of the gift is unimportant."

"I only want light blue gifts," Sam mused. "Everything light blue. Light blue china. Light blue crystal. Light blue linens. Light blue lamps."

"Light blue macramé plant-hanging baskets," Pete added. Sam snorted. "Light blue sardine tin openers."

"Light blue power tools. To go with my eyes." Sam said, batting them at Pete.

"She registered for power tools," Pete told Jack. "She's the handy one. But yet, if that's true, honey, how come your dryer's still on the fritz?"

Sam picked the lime out of her drink and squeezed it. "It's not on the fritz," she said. "The hose that goes to the outside to vent it ripped open, and I just need to replace it. I got the new one last week. It'll only take a second to fix." She sucked on her lime, then returned it to her drink and leaned over to kiss Pete briefly on the lips.

"Mmm, tasty," he said, smiling at her. "And icy cold."

Jack suddenly felt uncomfortable. He wanted nothing but happiness for Sam, because she deserved it. He liked Pete. He even liked Pete and Sam together in the abstract, but when he saw them together, he felt weird. He had no idea why. He'd initially thought it was because he'd had a thing for Sam about three years ago, but he'd finally gotten over it. Then he'd decided it was because seeing a relationship like theirs reminded him of himself with Sara, and that made him sad because it had been so good, and then it had been so very, very bad. Finally he had concluded that it was because Pete was an outsider, someone who really had no concept of what Sam did and who therefore could not appreciate her properly.

"You want me to fix that dryer?" he offered.

"Nah, I can do it tomorrow," Sam said.

Pete took a sip of beer. "She will be so hung over tomorrow," he predicted. "I'll have to tiptoe around the house and bring her toast and Alka-Seltzer in bed."

Jack stood up. "I am Mr. Fixit," he said. "I can probably fix your toilet while I'm at it."

"Feel free to come over any time," Pete said. "The toolbox is in the laundry room."

"Hey, Sam, Pete," a new voice said, and Jack's heart leapt because for a second, he thought it was Daniel. Everyone turned to look at the door. It was a couple, a man and a woman, Jack didn't know. The man continued, "We've got to go. Thanks so much for having us."

Jack used their goodbyes as an excuse to slip out. He stuck the glass of ice and lime on the kitchen counter and looked around. The party was still in full swing. It was an odd combination of people from work and people Sam and Pete saw socially as a couple. He walked to the sliding doors that led from the dining room area into the back patio and peered out. Knots of people were standing around. It looked like all the smokers were out there. The living room was next, but he only saw a couple checking out Sam's CD collection. It wasn't until he'd visited almost every room on the main level that he realized he was looking for Daniel, and he didn't like the implications of his desire to find Daniel, just as he didn't like the implications of the way his heart had pounded when he'd thought Daniel had spoken. It was wanting Sam all over again, except this was its own kind of inappropriate.

"Mr. Fixit," he said aloud. The door to the basement was in the kitchen. It stuck a little as he opened it, and he had to shove hard. The lights were on, but nobody seemed to be downstairs. As he descended, the sounds of the party receded. He welcomed the time alone. He had to drive Teal'c and Jonas back to the base in an hour or two. The basement was finished into a kind of rec room, which Sam used as a storage area, and then there were a few smaller rooms that housed things like the water heater, the washer and dryer, and of course the bathroom with the toilet that ran. The bathroom door was shut, and a sign reading "Out of order—do not use," written in all caps with a Magic Marker, had been stuck up with a wide strip of brown packing tape. Someone had written "Beware of the leopard" on the sign.

Jack entered the laundry room and flipped on the light. The toolbox was on a shelf, and when he shut the door, he saw the coil of new tubing behind it. He unwrapped it and put it on top of the dryer, then dug through the toolbox to find a screwdriver so he could release the metal ring that held the ripped tube in place. He noted approvingly that Sam was replacing the plastic tubing with metallic tubing. As he leaned over the dryer to unscrew the ring, ear inches from the wall, he froze as he heard a voice.

"There," a man's voice said, low and raw. "Oh, god. Faster."

Jack straightened slowly. Clearly someone—two someones—were in the bathroom, seeking some privacy for a little encounter. He resisted the urge to freak them out by banging on the wall. He should probably go back upstairs and leave the guy and his girlfriend alone.

"Just like that. Just like that. Oh, god."

Jack's heart started to pound, as it had raced all night whenever he thought he heard Daniel's voice, because this time, it wasn't some guy saying goodbye to Sam. This time, it was Daniel, really Daniel, definitely Daniel—Daniel sounding like he'd never heard Daniel sound before, intimate and aroused and hot. Before he could stop himself, he laid his ear against the wall.

"I'm so close. God, that feels good. Your mouth is so warm. I love watching you do this to me."

Jack felt a flash of heat in his balls, and suddenly he was hard. He knew that he wasn't going to leave.

"Oh, Jesus, harder." Daniel's voice, low and hoarse, betrayed his excitement. "Please. Please. You've got me right on the edge. I'm so close."

Daniel was getting a clandestine blow job in a bathroom in Sam's house. He would never have thought it of Daniel. And now Daniel was telling whoever was in there with him how much he loved it, how hot he was, how close he was—all things that he, Jack, would never, ever get to hear, because Daniel was with someone, and Jack hadn't had a clue.

"Just a little more," Daniel gasped, and Jack gasped too, his own erection heavy and pounding. Jack wanted it, just like Daniel wanted it, only Jack wanted it with Daniel. He wanted his mouth to be the one on Daniel, and he'd never realized how much he wanted it until this second, when the possibility had been ripped away, because if there was one thing he knew for certain about Daniel, it was that Daniel did not go in for anonymous sex in bathrooms with someone he picked up at a party. Jack had waited too long. Hell, he'd never even decided to stop waiting and act on how he felt.

A moan that made Jack's fingers clench, then, "I'm coming," followed by choked gasps, and then Daniel said, "Oh, god, Jonas, yes, yes," and there was a roaring in Jack's ears, and he felt nothing at all, because he couldn't feel his body any more, and only the wall was holding him up, and then he blinked and he was still in Sam's laundry room with a hard-on, and there was a screwdriver and a coil of metal on the dryer and the lights were too bright and he was a little dizzy and the world was suddenly, completely different.

"Oh, god, that was nice," Daniel groaned. It took Jack a second to process the words. His brain had stopped working. "That was just so, so nice."

"Nice?" Jonas said, voice teasing, and yes, it was Jonas. "Just nice?"

"More than nice. Good. Wonderful. Perfect. Hot." There was a pause, and Jack imagined rustling, standing up, pulling up pants, zipping. "I could still taste you when I came. God, I missed you."

"Come here," Jonas said, and there was another interval of quiet. "We should probably get back before General O'Neill starts looking for us."

"I am not good with the standing up right now. Weak knees."

"Oh, right."

"No, really. We should stay here another minute or two."

"Or three."

"Three minutes, tops. Mmm. Do that again."

Jack turned so his back was to the wall. He would have slid down to sit on the cold concrete floor, but he didn't want them to hear. He imagined kissing and touching and tasting, hands stroking skin.

"Can you make it to Kelowna next month?"

"Can you get me an invitation?"

"Absolutely."

"Then yes."

"Good. I like it better when you can come to my place. No security, no staying in an underground bunker." There was a pause and Jack imagined more kissing. "It was driving me insane," Jonas continued, and Jack could hear the want in this voice, "watching you without being able to touch you."

It was more than a blow job in Sam's basement bathroom. It was a relationship. Daniel's trips to Kelowna or Langara or whatever the hell it was called now, Jonas's trips to Earth—Jack had thought they actually had to work, that Jonas had something to offer them.

"Can you make it to Sam's wedding?" Daniel asked.

"I don't know. Maybe. I'll have to check the dates. I like Pete."

"Yeah, me too. He seems good for Sam. Really funny and…normal."

"I kind of thought the general and Colonel Carter, though."

Jack squeezed his eyes shut.

"Really?"

"What, you think no?"

"I think no."

"They care for each other."

"Not like that. Pete's good for Sam. She's moved on."

Jack only half-listened to the rest of their quiet conversation. He didn't move when he heard the bathroom door open. Daniel left first, and Jonas followed a few minutes later. When Jack heard the sticky door at the top of the stairs shut, he pushed himself off the wall, grabbed the screwdriver, undid the ring, and replaced the tubing. He had to pull the dryer out from the wall. He focused completely on the task, on perfectly aligning the tubing, so there were no twists. He threw the old, dusty plastic tubing away in a big trash can that contained empty detergent boxes and a bunch of dryer lint. When he entered the bathroom, he didn't pause. He pulled the top off the toilet and flushed it. The plastic cap at the bottom of the tank was misaligned, but the floater seemed okay.

He stared into the tank. He hadn't said anything when he'd dreamed about Sam at night, because she was under his command, even though she'd known, even though she'd felt the same way. He hadn't said anything when Daniel had been gone and he'd realized why it hurt so much, because there was no one to say it to, and he hadn't said anything when Daniel came back, because Daniel was a man. He had never imagined Daniel would reciprocate, and the real irony of it was, just as he'd discovered Daniel might consider it, he'd discovered that Daniel was seeing Jonas.

After a few minutes, he twiddled the chain to realign the plastic cap, making a mental note to tell Sam to buy a new one, and the toilet stopped running. "Okay then," he said, replacing the ceramic lid on the tank. He washed his hands and dried them on the light blue hand towel. Light blue, he thought, like a sardine tin opener, like china, like Sam's eyes, like Daniel's eyes. He looked up into the mirror at his own brown eyes. In the harsh light, he looked tired and old. Sam had Pete, Daniel had Jonas, Teal'c had Ishta—even Jacob had Selmak. And here he was, Jack O'Neill, a day too late, except it was more than a day.

They'd moved on. They'd all moved on except him. He should call back that attractive woman with the CIA who'd asked him out—Kerry Johnson. He should get out more. He should bring a date to Sam's wedding, where she would wear a color called candlelight and marry Pete in a morning ceremony. And Jonas and Daniel would be there, smiling, together even if no one knew it, and all of them would kiss the bride to wish her well, because she was moving on, because she was starting a new life with someone she loved.

"God damn it," Jack said. "God damn it."