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cinaedAll of them are Jack/Daniel. *grins*
Grown Men Don't Freak by Annie D and Katryne.
Quotation: Daniel looked at him. It was the same Jack. Colonel. Team leader. Friend. Hero. Pain in the ass.
Bisexual.
Okay. It was obvious his brain still needed some time to recover.
It was also obvious his brain needed to recover in some Jack-free space, as a familiar hand rested on his shoulder and he was trying very hard not to yelp.
“You okay?”
“Yes sir, though I can’t wait to get out of the infirmary,” Sam answered, even though it was obvious to everyone that she wasn’t the one the question was directed to.
“Takes more than a broken ankle to keep you down, Carter,” Jack replied easily, though he was still looking at the adamantly-not-looking-at-Jack Daniel.
“So what did Hammond say?” Daniel asked. See? He was not freaking out.
Proclivity by Faded.
Quotation: Daniel was frowning again. And it was the really intent kind of frown, too, because when normal people frowned they'd just draw their brows together and turn their mouth down. In Daniel's case, the eyebrows were more like hawks riding on air currents: they'd drift up and up, then swoop down again, and then repeat the process over and over.
"You're making me tired," Jack complained.
Hands by Apocrypha.
Quotation: Daniel can talk without his hands, but not about anything important. His hands always surprise me; they're always stronger than I think they should be. There's a faint tracery of scar lines over the palms and the backs, the text of time spent working outdoors in stone and rubble. He doesn't have the cluster of scars framing his knuckles that I do. My hands are clearly the hands of a man that had to learn to think before acting.
And I did learn, mostly. So I backslide, sometimes. Sheesh.
Ciphers by Destina Fortunato.
Quotation: He sneezed - too much dust in the air - and then tried to get his bearings. He moved the light, tracking it through the darkness as he looked for something familiar, until - yes, there; the writing. As the light touched the ancient symbols, Daniel stared, enthralled. Each symbol had its own unique color. "Weird," he whispered, and reached out to touch them. The colors were vivid and distinct, shades he'd never seen in a box of crayons, a palette so ghostly and strange he thought he might be hallucinating.
There were sounds above him, tiny pebbles rolling off larger boulders, but Daniel didn't pay attention. The colors seemed to have no larger meaning. Daniel wanted to remember, to take them back for study.
"Jack!" he shouted, and a brilliant burst of violet exploded before his eyes. "What the hell..." He spoke the puzzled words aloud, but the fading colors that arrived on the heels of Jack's name compelled him to say it again - this time, in a whisper. "Jack."
Same brilliant purples, but muted this time.
He closed his eyes, heart pounding. Definitely something wrong with his eyes. Or his brain.
Grown Men Don't Freak by Annie D and Katryne.
Quotation: Daniel looked at him. It was the same Jack. Colonel. Team leader. Friend. Hero. Pain in the ass.
Bisexual.
Okay. It was obvious his brain still needed some time to recover.
It was also obvious his brain needed to recover in some Jack-free space, as a familiar hand rested on his shoulder and he was trying very hard not to yelp.
“You okay?”
“Yes sir, though I can’t wait to get out of the infirmary,” Sam answered, even though it was obvious to everyone that she wasn’t the one the question was directed to.
“Takes more than a broken ankle to keep you down, Carter,” Jack replied easily, though he was still looking at the adamantly-not-looking-at-Jack Daniel.
“So what did Hammond say?” Daniel asked. See? He was not freaking out.
Proclivity by Faded.
Quotation: Daniel was frowning again. And it was the really intent kind of frown, too, because when normal people frowned they'd just draw their brows together and turn their mouth down. In Daniel's case, the eyebrows were more like hawks riding on air currents: they'd drift up and up, then swoop down again, and then repeat the process over and over.
"You're making me tired," Jack complained.
Hands by Apocrypha.
Quotation: Daniel can talk without his hands, but not about anything important. His hands always surprise me; they're always stronger than I think they should be. There's a faint tracery of scar lines over the palms and the backs, the text of time spent working outdoors in stone and rubble. He doesn't have the cluster of scars framing his knuckles that I do. My hands are clearly the hands of a man that had to learn to think before acting.
And I did learn, mostly. So I backslide, sometimes. Sheesh.
Ciphers by Destina Fortunato.
Quotation: He sneezed - too much dust in the air - and then tried to get his bearings. He moved the light, tracking it through the darkness as he looked for something familiar, until - yes, there; the writing. As the light touched the ancient symbols, Daniel stared, enthralled. Each symbol had its own unique color. "Weird," he whispered, and reached out to touch them. The colors were vivid and distinct, shades he'd never seen in a box of crayons, a palette so ghostly and strange he thought he might be hallucinating.
There were sounds above him, tiny pebbles rolling off larger boulders, but Daniel didn't pay attention. The colors seemed to have no larger meaning. Daniel wanted to remember, to take them back for study.
"Jack!" he shouted, and a brilliant burst of violet exploded before his eyes. "What the hell..." He spoke the puzzled words aloud, but the fading colors that arrived on the heels of Jack's name compelled him to say it again - this time, in a whisper. "Jack."
Same brilliant purples, but muted this time.
He closed his eyes, heart pounding. Definitely something wrong with his eyes. Or his brain.
