He's tired before he gets on the plane. The flight's bumpy enough he can't even catch a little sleep there so he feels like he hasn't slept in a year by the time he gets off at the other end, luggage in hand so he doesn't have to wait. At least Jack is there, waiting, when he's pushed past all the people heading to pick up their bags.

Jack's alone, standing there with that slight smile on his face and it seems like a lifetime since they've seen one another, though it's only been a couple of weeks. Weeks run into months soon enough, though, and this is the first time Daniel has been able to get away for even a couple of days since Jack moved to Washington permanently.

"You got everything?" Jack's hand reaches out for his bag and for once Daniel lets him take it. He remembers a time when he wouldn't have, what seems like a lifetime ago. Back when he felt he had something to prove, to this man, to everyone. "You look beat."

It's a statement, not a question, but Daniel can hear the concern. It took a while for him to be able to hear what was really going on, like the things Jack said were another language to learn; it had just taken him longer than usual to pick up the nuances.

"Long couple of weeks," he says as he follows Jack out of the airport and over to where his car's waiting. One of the perks of the job, he supposes, a driver to glare at airport security while parked in the no-waiting zone. "Nice car."

"I miss my truck."

Daniel nods, understanding the regret those four simple words convey. He misses Jack's truck too, misses the times they'd just drive up into the hills and find somewhere quiet. When they weren't saving the world, of course, which didn't leave much time for sitting around. They'd got up to other things in that truck too, things Jack had bitched about afterwards, complaining how hard it was to get certain substances out of the upholstery.

They were away from the airport, swirling into early evening traffic before Jack speaks again. Daniel finds himself jerking awake at the words, forcing his tired brain to make sense of them.

"Have you eaten?"

He has to think about that, editing the response his exhausted brain wants to give immediately, a reflex response to the concern Jack tried so hard to hide, replacing it with one that won't get Jack's mother-hen side up and running. He's too tired to deal with that right now.

"I could eat."

Jack snorts.

"We'll get pizza, then," he says. "If you can stay awake long enough for them to deliver."

By the time the driver pulls up outside an apartment building, Daniel has fallen asleep and jolted awake three times. Jack is just watching him, that small smile still there, as if he can't quite believe Daniel is really here. He can't believe it himself, either.

Jack dismisses the driver, leads the way into the building with a nod to the doorman. Who's carrying a concealed weapon, Daniel notices, despite his tiredness. Odd really, that he's changed so much himself over the period they've known one another, enough to spot such a thing as if it's second nature.

"Ex-Marine," Jack says, as the elevator door closes. "A condition of the job."

They hadn't argued over Jack leaving. What would have been the point? The planet had lurched from one crisis to the next, one enemy to the next, with so little time for anything else between. They both had their jobs to do and if Jack's meant he had to be somewhere else to do it, it wasn't as if they were on different planets. It wasn't as if they hadn't lived through that either.

He'd had his own moment of semi-adolescent rebellion, growing a beard when Jack wasn't around to bitch at him or make smartass remarks. As he watches the numbers flick into life as the elevator rises, Daniel admits to himself he missed the abuse he would have got from Jack on that subject.

Not that he would probably have grown the beard if Jack had been there. Or maybe be planning to high-tail it off to Atlantis either - least time he'd tried that, Jack had not been happy, to say the least.

When they reach Jack's apartment door, Daniel finds he's leaning up against the doorframe as he watches Jack disable the alarm system. He should move, should pick up the bag and follow Jack into the living room, find himself a soft surface and collapse for a while. But he knows the moment he sits down, he'll be out for the count and that's a thought he can't bear, not after he's come so far. He doesn't want to miss out, miss a moment of this, the thing he's come 1600 miles to find. So he stands there, waiting for Jack to turn around, to notice he's still there and make some wisecrack.

And he does, one hand reaching out and snagging the sleeve of Daniel's jacket, pulling him forward into Jack's embrace, then pushing the two of them back against the now-closed apartment door.

"This close," Jack said, "you look even worse. Do I need to come down there and kick some ass?"

There's no attempt to hide the concern now, none at all. Daniel finds himself smiling, watches his smile reflected in Jack's changing expression. This is all real, this is really happening.

"You always said that was Teal'c's responsibility."

"Looks like he's been lying down on the job."

"You can tell him..." Daniel mutters and then whatever he was going to say next is muffled as he finally relaxes. He can feel his eyelids closing, despite his own best efforts to stay awake. Jack shifts his position a little, the heated press against Daniel's thigh enough to tell him he's not the only one who's glad Daniel is here. "Sorry," he says, as Jack lets go of him finally. "For falling asleep on you, I mean."

Jack's smile is there and gone again as he gestures to the couch. "Knock yourself out," he says, heading for the phone.

By the time Daniel has taken off his coat and dropped onto the couch, Jack has already ordered and then disappeared with Daniel's bag. He tries to stay awake, really he does, but somehow he knows when his eyes finally close that it was all a little too much.

He's woken what seems like only moments later by the apartment door opening and closing again. The smell of pizza reminds Daniel how long it is since he's eaten anything edible and his stomach tells everyone who wants to know that at least a part of him is awake.

"Don't get up." Jack's voice is quiet.

"I need to move," Daniel says, "unless you had plans to feed me." He opens his eyes, taking in the expression on Jack's face before the other man has a chance to hide what his face is saying. "No way," he continues. "I get enough of that when I hit the infirmary."

"Call it a kink," Jack says, shrugging his shoulders. He turns, heading for the kitchen, pizza box in hand. "The doorman paid for it, in case you were wondering..."

As he retrieves his glasses from the coffee table and the world comes back into sharper focus, Daniel ponders that statement for a moment. "This building is so secure they won't even let the pizza guy past the front desk?" Jack's silence tells him enough for Daniel to realise he's hit the mark. "Wow."

"Got to have some perks," Jack says, returning after what seems like a short lifetime with a couple of plates full of pizza.

He goes back to the kitchen for beer once the pizza's on the table, handing Daniel one without a word. They don't talk much for a little while after that, both of them far too focussed on food for small talk.

Daniel is surprised he doesn't fall asleep mid-chew, let alone once he can start to feel the effects of the beer. He's always been, in Jack's opinion at least, a cheap date - too much time between drinks, work taking precedence over his social life, even when there were more people around who he wanted to socialise with.

When the main person he wanted to spend his time with wasn't halfway across the country, if not on another planet completely.

Daniel looks down at the pizza in his hand at that thought, what appetite he'd had completely gone. It's congealing, tomato sauce dripping from it and suddenly his stomach turns a flip. He drops the remains of the slice back on the plate, grabbing a paper napkin to wipe the grease from his hands. A mouthful of beer removes the taste, for which his now-queasy stomach is immensely grateful.

"Problem?" Jack has paused mid-chew, aware as always of exactly what's going on around him, even when he pretends not to be interested.

"Just tired," Daniel says, before taking another swig of beer so he can break eye contact. He's not good at lying to Jack, not good at all. It's not something he's had much practice at and he supposes that's good, considering what they get up to when they're alone together. "I should get some sleep."

"Bedroom's through there," Jack says, indicating one of the doors with his beer.

He doesn't move, that's another thing to be grateful for, his perceptive gaze turning back to the pizza as he leans over and snags what's left of Daniel's, pulling it to his own plate. Daniel finds himself smiling at that, for some reason he can't explain, before he pushes himself out of the sofa's over-familiar embrace and heads towards the door.

He wakes when the bed dips beneath another person's weight, the unfamiliarity of the movement enough to make Daniel react despite himself.

He's disorientated for a moment, before the light through the part-open bedroom door shows hair that used to be brown when the man in question first met him. Jack has made any number of comments, over the years, about Daniel being the person responsible for the grey but he's seen pictures of Jack's father; with those genes, Jack should be glad he's got any hair at all.

"You asleep?"

"Not now," Daniel replies. The light makes him squint a little and he drops his arm over his eyes, watching Jack from beneath it.

"Like the new bed?"

"It's fine," Daniel says. If he was honest, he wishes Jack would leave him alone and let him get some sleep but a part of him is responding to what is quite obviously a half-assed attempted seduction on Jack's part. A part that seems to have a mind of its own. "Something's missing, though..."

Jack just looks at him for a moment, without saying anything, then backs off of the bed and goes over to close the door. The bed moves again under Jack's weight as Daniel rolls onto his side.

"Tired?" Jack's voice is close to his ear, the warmth of his breath a ticklish sensation. "I should come down to Colorado and kick Mitchell's ass."

Jack's hand slides across Daniel's waist, across his stomach and down towards his groin. Tired or not, parts of Daniel are more than awake now.

"Cameron's fine," Daniel says. He knows what Jack's like, wants to head him off before he gets his one-track mind headed in another direction completely. "I'm fine. Teal'c's fine. We're all..."

"Fine?" Jack finishes his sentence for him, though it's hardly a challenge. His hand, too familiar almost by now, makes Daniel's breath stutter as his fingers tighten a little and start to move. "Better than fine, I'd say."

Daniel tries to move, tries to roll onto his back but Jack's pressed too close, his arm heavy across Daniel's side while his hand is busy driving him crazy. He makes do instead by moving his arm back over Jack's, feeling the muscles tense beneath him as their limbs rub together, his own hand resting lightly on the top of Jack's thigh. There's a scar there, right at the top of the muscle, one of those souvenirs of the missions Jack doesn't talk about, and Daniel traces it lightly with his thumb.

Maybe that way he can distract himself a little from what Jack's doing to him. He has this idea it'll last longer if he can, last him all the way till the next time he gets to come visit.