All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM,
World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was
created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on
copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and
places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real
persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Category: Episode tag
Season/spoilers: Season 5 – Birthday Burdens
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Nudity and sexual innuendo
Summary: Daniel returns home after helping the Unas escape from slavery
Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, he isn't mine, but I wish he was... plus the usual
MGM are great and worthy.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Gillian Rickwood and Ellen Caldera for the
inspiration that gave a lonely plot bunny a foundation on which to build. For
Poss, Lori and Ankh, with grateful thanks for always being there. Also for Ali
McRae – one of the fandom’s wise women.
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Scribe's Shower Scene Series
Birthday Burdens
***********************************
Happy birthday, Daniel. He poured himself a generous helping of whiskey, clinked his glass against the bottle, and downed the liquor in one.
It didn't make him feel any better. The alcohol burned a path down the back of his throat, making his eyes water, but it did nothing to thaw the knot of ice that had settled in his stomach at the sight of Chaka disappearing into the rain-soaked trees of an alien world. He set the glass down, and wrapped his arms about his chest, rocking himself lightly back and forth on the balls of his feet. Cold, so cold. His muscles ached, his head throbbed, and he felt as though the weight of an entire world was pressing down on his shoulders. Oh yeah, that was fitting. Now he was the beast of burden, the guilt of initiating a war heavy and oppressive. Happy damned birthday, Daniel.
His hand curled around the bottle, his intention to replenish the empty glass. God! What was he doing? Drowning his sorrows in whiskey might help tonight, but it would make the morning far worse. Bad enough he had to face Jack across the briefing room table tomorrow; doing so with a hangover would be suicide. The look on Jack's face as Daniel escaped the infirmary had been warning enough that Daniel was going to be flayed to within an inch of his life by the infamous O'Neill sarcasm just as soon as Jack caught up with him.
Hell, Jack had already started, commenting to Fraiser that the mission had been a 'fascinating experience' and that he really appreciated Daniel organising deluxe accommodations. 'You'd have loved it, doc. Plenty of leg room, nice soft straw to sleep on. Of course, the chain around the ankle was a bit of a bitch, but hey - you can't have everything.'
Daniel screwed the top back on the bottle, picked up his empty glass, and headed into the kitchen. If whiskey wasn't the answer, perhaps a hot meal would help him find his equilibrium. The contents of his refrigerator - cheese, bread and some sad-looking salad - didn't do much to inspire him, though. The nearest cupboard offered little better. Wait. What was that on the top shelf? Daniel reached up to retrieve a brightly coloured, if somewhat battered-looking packet, catching a whiff of his own odour as he did so. He stank of Unas, soiled straw and stale sweat. In his haste to escape any interaction with Jack, he'd skipped showering, simply changing out of his SGC uniform before heading home.
The need to eat waged with the desire to smell civilised. Then he spotted the use by date on the packet of Kraft dinner. Okay, so it had been at the back of the cupboard for quite some time. Over a year longer than it should've been in fact. Damn. Was there a risk of food poisoning from stale macaroni and cheese? The sharp tang of powered cheese provided an acrid counterpoint to the scent of his body as he opened the packet and sniffed experimentally. He pulled a disgusted face, both at himself and his potential dinner. Damn, the seal on the cheese had been damaged, and the contents had evolved into an entirely new life form. Pizza, would be good, he decided. He could order it, and then be in and out of the shower before it arrived. Yes, that was definitely a plan.
Aim and throw. Daniel allowed himself a small smile of pleasure as the Kraft dinner sailed across the kitchen and hit the bottom of his waste basket with a dull thud. He turned to the breakfast bar, picked up the phone, and dialled one-handed while using the other to retrieve a gaudily coloured menu from the noticeboard. His stomach rumbled in expectation as he mentally selected his favourite pizza toppings, reminding him that Burrock’s hospitality had included an introduction to the pleasures of enforced hunger as well as the generous application of the pain stick. His gaze fell on the 'Buy one, Get one free' offer. Perfect. Right now, he was confident he could demolish two pizzas, extra large with double toppings, plus a side order of garlic bread and a helping of coleslaw. It was a shame they didn't do chocolate walnut cookies. A dozen or so of those wouldn't go amiss right now. If he couldn’t allow himself the luxury of getting drunk, he could at least indulge in a sugar rush.
“Come on. Come on,” he muttered to himself, waiting for
someone to answer the phone. He impatiently drummed his fingers on the work
surface, and then scooped up the pile of mail that had accumulated while he'd
been off-world, flicking through it with disinterest. He rarely got anything
except bills and junk mail. The likelihood of a birthday card was non-existent,
but he was used to that, and besides, given the way the past couple of days had
gone, his expectations for this birthday were particularly low.
Not that every birthday was quite the disaster this one had turned out to be. His earliest memory was of his fourth birthday, celebrated with an informal picnic in the shade of the giant pillars in the Temple of Karnac in Luxor. Afterwards, his dad had returned to work in the Valley of the Kings, while his mom had taken him for ice-cream in the colonial splendour of the tearoom at the White Palace hotel. She’d worn a yellow cotton dress with tiny white daisies printed on it, and Daniel had believed her to be the prettiest person in the room. He had, however, decided ice-cream was vastly over-rated; chocolate was much more satisfying.
After his parents died, he'd never known what to expect on his birthday. Some were overly lavish celebrations as sympathetic foster parents tried to make up for the fact he was an orphan, while others were non-events, forgotten by everyone. Even Nick. Daniel sighed. What did it matter? Growing old was as over-rated as ice-cream.
A glossy full-colour folder advertising a range of shower units caught his attention amongst the junk mail, and made him shake his head in bemusement. The company must have money to burn to use brochures of that quality for mail shots. He was just about to open it, curious to see just how much a customised, deluxe shower would cost, when someone finally answered his call and his mind turned to the importance of ordering double pepperoni in place of anchovies.
Right, food on the way, time to hit the shower. He wriggled his feet out of his shoes, not bothering to unlace them, then tugged off his socks, draping them over the back of a kitchen chair. The dark blue, cable-knit sweater was shrugged off as he padded barefoot through the living room. He dropped that onto the arm of the sofa, and ran a hand through the grimy mess of his air. The sweater immediately slid onto the floor, but he didn't stop to pick it up; hot soapy water was calling him like a siren. Half-way down the hall, he pulled his t-shirt over his head, grimacing as his body protested the action. He flexed the muscles across his bare upper back, trying to shake out the tight knots left by Burrock's enthusiastic use of the pain stick. Sam had been right; there really wasn't any other pain quite like it. Worse, it seemed to reverberate through his body long after Burrock had finished its application.
Don't think about it! It was over. Chaka was free and Jack was home safe and sound. Thank God Burrock hadn't realised torturing Jack was the most effective way to hurt Daniel. Just concentrate on the here and now. His left hand dropped to the waistband of his pants, thumb pushing at the thick material to undo the button. Fingers fumbled for the small tab of the zipper, followed by the crisp snicker-snack of metal teeth as he unzipped his fly, his free hand reaching for the bathroom door handle.
He froze, one hand curled over his crotch with the zip tab between his first and second fingers, the other held in mid-air as the door swung open. What the hell?! Daniel stared into his bathroom. He blinked twice, then turned to check he was in the right apartment. Yes, the hallway was definitely his, its pale green walls decorated with Polynesian death masks, and the mirror at the far end reflecting his image. That particular sight made Daniel jerk his hand away from his unzipped pants, the memory of teenage bathroom exploits flooding back with embarrassing clarity.
He returned his attention to his bathroom. Or rather to the totally revamped, redecorated, re-equipped, redesigned room where his bathroom had been. Cautiously Daniel stepped through the doorway, his gaze darting from the pristine wall and floor tiles, to the shiny new sink, to the mirrored cabinet reassuringly reflecting his face, albeit with startled blue eyes, unshaven jaw, and tousled hair. A large white towel, obviously new judging from its thick, fluffy texture, hung from a rail just to the left of the sink, and a beribboned basket of brightly coloured bottles sat on the closed lid of the toilet.
Ah! Daniel spotted a small, white envelope tucked behind the
ribbon. His hands unaccountably shaking, he plucked it out, tore open the seal
and extracted a card. Neatly typed in the middle of the card were the words,
'Compliments of Bathroom World.'
Daniel frowned, turning the card over in the hope it might still reveal some clue as to who was behind the transformation of his bathroom. Nothing. Still mystified, and with a growing sense of unease, he rummaged through the contents of the basket as though the collection of toiletries might yield up an answer. Camomile and rosemary shampoo. Sandalwood aftershave. A bar of oatmeal soap. Lime and ginger shower gel. Shower gel! He looked up, the bottle of gel in his hand, an unspoken question on his lips. Where the hell was the shower? There was no evidence of any pipework, never mind a shower head.
He moved further into the room, his gaze scanning the walls. His eyebrows danced as he finally spotted the neat pattern of nozzles embedded into the wall in front of him. Further exploration revealed matching sets to both his left and right, and a recessed control panel. As he stepped closer, his bare feet registered the slight angle of the newly tiled floor, now cleverly designed to drain water towards a small grille in the right hand corner of the room.
The brochure! Daniel’s brain suddenly made the connection. His pants threatening to trip him as they began to ride dangerously low on his hips, he raced back into the kitchen and snatched it from the pile of junk mail. Yes! He wasn't imagining it. His bathroom now contained the company's top of the range, super-deluxe, customised shower unit. He flicked through the pages, scanning the full-colour pictures, designed to tempt him to ever more lavish combinations of power jets and pulse sprays, until he reached the back. A glued pocket held a folded sheet of legal paper and a set of operating instructions. Licking his lips in nervous anticipation, Daniel pulled out the paper and unfolded it. It was a letter, or more precise, a confirmation of an order. His eyes immediately went to the name of the customer – Doctor Daniel Jackson. His address was neatly typed underneath.
He sank onto the kitchen chair, knocking his discarded socks to the floor. Either he was going completely insane and had ordered what was probably the most expensive shower in the country without realising it, or one of his neighbours had ordered it and it had been installed in his apartment by mistake, although that didn't explain his details in the customer box, or… Exhausted and more than a bit light-headed with hunger, he couldn't think of another or. He glanced at his watch and realised it was too late in the day to try and call the bathroom company. All in all, it was much easier to conclude he'd just gone nuts. After all, it wouldn't be the first time, and at least on this occasion he could simply spend the next six months paying off his credit balance instead of sitting on the floor of a padded cell. And thinking of cells…
Slowly he climbed to his feet and headed back to the bathroom. He'd worry about why he had a new bathroom tomorrow. Right here and now, he needed to shower, so he might as well make the most of it.
***********
"Ah, pizza." Jack arrived at Daniel's door at the same moment as the delivery. He thrust his hand into a pocket and produced a couple of bills. "There you go," he said, calmly taking the boxes from the delivery boy before he could object. He lifted the lid of the top box, and ignoring the fact he'd arrived uninvited, complained quietly, "Why does he never get anchovies?"
He knocked on the door, waited impatiently for a few seconds, and then produced the spare key Daniel had given him some months before. "Daniel?" he called, heading straight for the kitchen. "How many times do I have to tell you I like anchovies on my pizza?" He set the pizza boxes on the work surface, only now realising the amount of food suggested Daniel was expecting company, and that his intrusion might be less than welcome. He sighed to himself. Well, if that was the case, he'd leave, but not until he'd at least tried to clear the air between the two of them. He hadn't exactly been on his best behaviour on their return from the mission. The after-effects of Burrock's torture had made him feel old and arthritic, every joint throbbing with pain, particularly his knees, and he'd pretty much taken out his sour mood on Daniel. His mother had forever been sayings you always hurt the ones you love. Well, love was taking it a bit far, but she was right to a certain point. Daniel mattered a great deal to him, and yet he'd taken a malicious delight in being as snarky and unpleasant as possible to him in the infirmary, despite the fact he knew Daniel was hurting just as much, both physically and emotionally.
Of course, he could argue it
was Daniel's fault they'd ended up spending the night in chains with a bunch of
smelly Unas for company. Not to mention enjoying the loving attention of a
pissed off slave trader with a taste for violence. Thank God it was one of the
Unas that ended up full of holes and not Daniel. Things had been pretty scary
for a while, not least when Burrock had treated Daniel to a prolonged taste of
the pain stick, apparently taking sick pleasure in watching him writhe. Jack
shuddered at the memory, immediately seeking a distraction from his dark
thoughts. Ah, speaking of holes… he picked up the socks from the kitchen floor.
Daniel obviously needed to learn how to darn. Or to shop. Where the hell was he
anyway?
Jack tossed the socks into the waste basket, spotting the discarded Kraft dinner. Oh yeah, Daniel definitely needed shopping lessons. He headed into the living room, picking up Daniel's sweater and folding it neatly before putting it on the arm of the chair. When he saw the t-shirt on the hall floor, though, he simply stepped over it, shaking his head in good-humoured disgust. Add housetraining to the shopping lessons. A small smile played across his lips as he heard the sound of running water and figured where Daniel was. So, the birthday boy had discovered his present. He raised a hand to knock on the bathroom door only to realise it wasn't fully closed, and he was getting an eyeful of naked Daniel through the gap between the door and the frame.
He hadn't intended to stand and stare. Sheesh! It wasn't like he was a pervert who got off on watching his team-mate, his very male team-mate, in the shower. It wasn't even as though seeing Daniel naked was a particular unusual experience thanks to the communal SGC locker room. It was just that, well, damn it, together with Carter and Teal'c, he'd paid a hell of a lot of money to install the shower into Daniel's apartment in place of that pathetic drip of water that had been here before. And Daniel was clearly enjoying the experience.
He had his back to Jack, treating the colonel to the sight of oxygenated water cascading over a smoothly muscled back in a rush of silver bubbles, curving round and down into the small diamond-shaped indentation at the base of Daniel's spine. Jack’s observation that Fraiser was right in describing Daniel's backside as 'the perfect hockey player's butt' - something the good doctor had denied even thinking such a thing, let alone saying it out loud - was made purely out of athletic interest. As for noting just how long and lean Daniel's legs were, well he'd only registered that while wondering where the hell Daniel had gotten an all-over golden tan. And yes, by all-over, Jack meant every goddamn inch of skin.
Jack's eyes widened as he recalled their previous mission had been to a sun-drenched planet, and Daniel had spent a considerable amount of time excavating ruins on his own. Surely he wouldn't have?
Oh yes, he would. Jack suddenly remembered a discussion in which Daniel had gone into great detail about the cultural taboos of nudity and sex being a product of social brainwashing, and why he would have no problem stripping off his clothes if they came across a tribal group where nudity was the norm. Which was all well and good in a hypothetical debate where the natives were assumed to be friendly. But did he not realise how dangerous it could be to cavort naked on a world where the presence of natives - friendly or otherwise - had yet to be established? Without thinking, he pushed the bathroom door open, intend on confronting Daniel over the blatant disregard of mission protocol by asking how he'd managed to achieve a glistening tan on parts of his body that certainly hadn't seen the light of day in the unseasonally cool weather of Colorado.
******
Daniel arched his back, enjoying the pressure of the water on his aching muscles. The air was filled with the fresh aroma of citrus, and he'd finally washed the stench of Unas from his hair. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, letting the sharp needles of the spray sting his face and neck in an invigorating massage. He didn't care how much this shower unit cost, he was definitely keeping it.
He turned slowly, lost in the pleasure of the jets working their magic on his lower back and across his abs. He swept one last swathe of perfumed bubbles across his skin, relished the feel of the foam sliding down his thighs and the back of his calves, and then opened his eyes.
"What the… J..Jack?!" Totally stunned and disorientated by the sight of Jack O'Neill standing in doorway, Daniel darted forward to grab the towel, his feet sliding from under him on the unfamiliar smoothness of the newly tiled floor. Desperately, he flipped himself sideways in an attempt to regain his balance, but failed spectacularly. He went down hard and fast, skidding across the floor on his right hip until he impacted with the wall. “Oomphh!” His breath was knocked from him, and the back of his head hit the floor with enough force to make his eyes water.
"Oh crap!" Jack’s concerned face appeared above Daniel. "Are you okay?"
He blinked hard to bring Jack’s features into focus, then as the shock of hitting the floor in an undignified sprawl of limbs receded, he finally found his voice. "You scared the shit out of me," he spluttered indignantly.
"But you're okay?" Jack repeated, apparently oblivious to the jets of water pelting over him. He held out his hand.
"What are the hell are you doing?" Daniel pointedly ignored the offer of help, and pushed himself to his feet.
"Trying to help you up."
"No," Daniel said, wondering why he was the one turning red in embarrassment given that Jack had obviously turned into some kind of sick, voyeuristic pervert who turned up unannounced in his shower. "What the hell are doing in my bathroom?"
"Oh." Now Jack did have the grace to look embarrassed. "I paid for the pizza. I just came to tell you it was here." Daniel raised his eyebrows, and Jack adopted an innocent, if somewhat indignant expression. "What?! You thought I was standing at the door watching you? Sheesh, Daniel! You've been listening to the SGC rumour mill too much if you think I'd actually…. I swear, I went to knock on the door when it suddenly swung open. Then - boom - you're ass over head and…" Jack stopped, and peered down at his sodden clothes. "You do realise I'm soaked through now, don't you?" He snatched up the towel before Daniel could reach for it, dabbing ineffectually at his clothes as he gazed round the bathroom as though just noticing where he was. "So what do you think of your birthday present?"
Daniel froze. "M..m..my what?"
"Your birthday present. You didn't think we'd forgotten, did you?" Jack waved a hand around the bathroom. "Carter and Teal'c agreed it was time to get rid of that Roman relic you had in here, so we clubbed together and… hey presto!"
"You bought me this? For my birthday?"
Jack nodded, his expression smug. "You owe me an apology by the way."
"For what?" Daniel asked distractedly as he gazed round his new bathroom, more than a bit over-whelmed by his team-mates generosity.
"That snarky comment you made to Carter about not expecting a birthday present any time soon."
"Oh, that." Daniel shot Jack an embarrassed smile. "You guys really…" He waved a hand towards the tiled walls, still unable to believe what they’d done.
"Yep." Jack was looking smug.
Fortified by a large whiskey on an empty stomach that was now accompanied by a rush of good feelings, Daniel began to enthuse over his present. "It's incredible, Jack. These water jets are just amazing. You can make them pulse at different speeds, and you can adjust the configuration… Do you want to try it out? There's room for two. And if you ache half as much as I did after Burrock and his pain stick…"
"Room for two?" Jack echoed, raising his eyebrows.
Daniel stopped, momentarily embarrassed at what he’d just suggested, but then he shrugged. "Oh c'mon. We shower together all the time at the SGC. It’s no big deal."
"Well…"
"And you're soaked through already. And trust me, this big jet here in the middle of the wall, it's better than a masseuse. When it gets you right in the small of the back..." Forgetting he was naked Daniel began to demonstrate, gyrating his hips to get the jet working in a circular motion on his lower back.
"Whoa! Okay. Okay. I err… I get the idea." Jack turned away, and began to strip off his clothes. "But if one word of this gets back to the SGC."
Daniel grinned. "Oh sure, like I’m going to stand up at the next briefing with SG-3 and announce we spent our spare time in the shower together.”
“Good point,” Jack said.
“Besides,” Daniel added. “They already think we do that. And worse.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”
Daniel tossed the shower gel to Jack, and then peered down at his hip. The skin was somewhat reddened, but thankfully he hadn’t suffered a friction burn from his impromptu skid. When he glanced up again, Jack was already under the jets. Daniel allowed himself a small smile as he watched the older man tilt his head, letting the gently pulsing water flow down his throat and down onto his chest, where it was captured in tiny bubbles like miniature diamond pendants. He couldn't help but hope he looked as good as Jack when he was in his forties. Of course he knew Jack worked hard to keen that lean, muscled torso - the man was definitely obsessed with the benefits of crunches - but even so, there were a good number of younger SGC marines who wouldn't mind swapping bodies with the colonel. He knew too that quite a few SGC women wouldn't mind getting their hands on Jack's body, although for an entirely different reason.
"Oh, that's good," Jack sighed, his eyes closed as he turned slowly. The water jets switched from gentle pulse to a stronger, more invigorating spray, the high-tech controls moving automatically through a pre-programmed cycle. "Oh yes, real good."
Okay, Daniel thought, Jack had clearly forgotten he was here. He cleared his throat, intending to offer Jack a choice of shampoo from the basket. Jack's eyes instantly flew open, and a smirk cut across his face.
"Were you watching me?"
"No!" Daniel said, way too quickly. "Of course, not. I was just… ummm… shampoo?" He grabbed the nearest bottle and tossed it to Jack, who caught it deftly.
“Hey, look." Jack abruptly stuck his foot next to Daniel’s. “Matching burns. I take it you didn’t mention yours to Fraiser either.”
Daniel peered down at the ring of angry red skin around his ankle. “No, I figured it was pretty superficial, and besides, she was making enough noises about keeping me for overnight observation.”
“Tell me about it,” Jack grumbled.
The comment was good-natured, but Daniel felt a pang of guilt. “Jack…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry I dragged you into all that.”
“Hey, you suffered way more than I did. Sheesh, Burrock held that pain stick on you for way longer than he did with me. In fact, so long I…” Jack’s fists clenched around the gel bottle. “Bastard,” he muttered quietly.
Daniel scrubbed a hand through his hair. The dark mood from earlier pressed down on him.
Jack glanced at him. “One hell of a birthday, huh?”
Daniel didn’t reply to that. He stared down at the water as it swirled towards the drain. “I just wanted to help, and instead I ended up starting a war.”
“Hey!” Jack tried to click his fingers in front of Daniel to get his attention, frowning when he realised wet skin wouldn't produce the necessary noise. “Burrock and his ilk are reaping what they deserved.”
Daniel tried to smile, but knew his expression was more of a grimace. "I know, but that doesn't really make me feel much better. Not everyone on that planet was a greedy, exploitative bastard like Burrock. Some of them just didn't know things could be any different. They simply hadn't stopped to think that what they were doing was wrong."
Jack didn’t reply to that, and Daniel sighed, knowing that beating himself about the head would achieve nothing. What had happened, had happened. Chaka and his friends had to follow their own way now. He’d interfered enough. He glanced towards Jack, remembering some of the colonel’s reactions to previous missions where he’d involved himself in local issues. "You know what? Next time I try to rescue someone, shoot me."
That made Jack snort with amusement.
"I'm serious," Daniel protested. "I landed us into a heap of trouble. Hell, Jack, you could've been tortured and killed. No, actually you *were* tortured. Because of me!"
"Hey, enough with the guilt trip, okay? You didn’t drag me into anything. I could've ordered us home, right? But I didn't. And you know damn well why I didn't."
"I do?" Daniel was trying not to be dense, but the whiskey he'd drunk on an empty stomach, together with the soporific effect of the shower, was eroding his ability to think straight.
"I didn't order us home because you were right, Daniel. Chaka didn't deserve to be locked up in that barn and treated like an animal, any more than you or I did. You did good, Daniel. You convinced me the Unas deserved a chance. That they're intelligent beings capable of thinking and acting for themselves. And more than that, they look out for each other." He paused, then added. “The same way we do. Your trouble is my trouble, okay?”
This time Daniel managed more of a smile. He waggled his burnt ankle at Jack. “And my pain is your pain?” he asked cautiously.
Jack nodded, then arched his back into the flow of water, sighing appreciatively. “And your shower is my shower.”
“Any time, Jack. Any time.”
<fin>
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