J/D Slash Fic: In a Vagrant Language
Dec. 22nd, 2005 08:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
superbadgirlOne more for the road. I've just spent longer at Buca di Beppo than I thought, and had to endure the whole room staring and singing at me and I don't think I'm going to get the holiday story done. This will probably be it for a while, as I'm off to Snowsville in the morning. ;)
Title: In a Vagrant Language
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
superbadgirl (Carrie)
Season/spoiler: 7
Series: Story twelve from Snapshots
Rating: R
Summary: Not everything a person says comes from the mouth.
Disclaimer: Not mine, as much as I want them. In fact I own nothing, so if Sony, SciFi and anyone else who's got their mitts on these guys wants to sue me, they won't get any satisfaction from it.
In a Vagrant Language
~~*~~
Sometimes, most of the time, he didn’t understand Daniel at all. That wasn’t literally true, of course. Jack understood the words spoken just fine. But sometimes Daniel’s words wandered in the air, mimicking, Jack supposed, his thought processes. He couldn’t say for sure without climbing into Daniel’s skull. Being Daniel Jackson. The idea both repulsed and fascinated him. He thought it would be the most horrible thing in the world to know what other people were thinking. But with Daniel as the subject, he might be persuaded.
Daniel talked and Jack watched. If it whatever Daniel was speaking about was vital to the proposed mission, then he’d repeat himself enough to draw Jack’s due attention. Jack noticed new things all the time while he conducted his observation-cum-listening exercises. Daniel always used his hands to the point of distraction, no matter the subject. Those hands beckoned Jack with unintentional power. They had mapped ancient ruins and brushed down pages of thick tomes and knew every inch of Jack’s body. Daniel had a spattering of fine hairs between the first and second knuckles of his ring and pinky fingers. He didn’t know if that meant anything. He looked down at his own hands, which were hair free on that region, and decided he liked that Daniel had that defining, subtle feature.
“Jack?”
He stopped looking at his hands. Daniel was staring at him, eyebrows raised. Jack nodded to show he was listening and Daniel continued speaking. There were ink stains on the outside of Daniel’s right hand, Jack noticed as it was waved in front of his face, smudged the way cheap newsprint did. Only it was blue. Jack smiled a little and transferred his attention to Daniel’s eyes.
Passion made them shine. This wasn’t a new discovery. Jack noticed it all the time, and in various situations and degrees. He thought maybe he should be bothered that discussing dead civilizations evoked a similar response to that he got when they were making love, but he just found it so Daniel. How could he love Daniel any less for being the way he was? That was impossible. It wasn’t the color that was such a lure. A blue eye was a blue eye was a blue eye. But Jack could look at them for hours, bored off his rocker by Daniel spouting on about Mesopotamia or Mongolia or Mycenae, but at rapt attention anyway.
Daniel glanced his way and stopped pacing. The furrow that had gotten deeper with each passing year appeared between his eyebrows and Jack was treated to a look, the look. Daniel knew he was speaking to deaf ears and he didn’t look pleased. Jack tipped his head.
“Jack, you’re not listening,” Daniel said, crossing his arms. “I really need you to pay attention. I’m going to need your help on this later.”
Sometimes Daniel was not quite so subtle with his clues.
“I’ll start,” Jack said, and he meant it.
Daniel watched him for several seconds, as if gauging his sincerity. Only when he’d apparently gained sufficient evidence did he continue talking. Jack listened, smiling as he continued watching as well. Daniel paced back and forth a few steps, and picked up the notepad from the table. The pages flapped as Daniel gesticulated. Jack’s smile grew.
“Pop quiz,” Daniel said, ceasing to pace. “What did I just say?”
“That it’s important we get fresh basil, not dried, because Fraiser said the recipe won’t turn out if we get the wrong stuff,” Jack said. “I still don’t get why we were saddled with shopping for this thing.”
Daniel set the notepad down and looked at Jack. The annoyance in his eyes softened to affection, though Jack had no idea what he had said or done to prompt it. There was muted passion in Daniel’s gaze. Moving around the table, he came to stand directly behind him. Jack leaned into Daniel’s touch, felt the muscles of his neck and shoulders become pliable and warm as Daniel rubbed them.
Sometimes, most of the time, he understood Daniel completely.
Title: In a Vagrant Language
Author:
superbadgirl (Carrie)Season/spoiler: 7
Series: Story twelve from Snapshots
Rating: R
Summary: Not everything a person says comes from the mouth.
Disclaimer: Not mine, as much as I want them. In fact I own nothing, so if Sony, SciFi and anyone else who's got their mitts on these guys wants to sue me, they won't get any satisfaction from it.
In a Vagrant Language
~~*~~
Sometimes, most of the time, he didn’t understand Daniel at all. That wasn’t literally true, of course. Jack understood the words spoken just fine. But sometimes Daniel’s words wandered in the air, mimicking, Jack supposed, his thought processes. He couldn’t say for sure without climbing into Daniel’s skull. Being Daniel Jackson. The idea both repulsed and fascinated him. He thought it would be the most horrible thing in the world to know what other people were thinking. But with Daniel as the subject, he might be persuaded.
Daniel talked and Jack watched. If it whatever Daniel was speaking about was vital to the proposed mission, then he’d repeat himself enough to draw Jack’s due attention. Jack noticed new things all the time while he conducted his observation-cum-listening exercises. Daniel always used his hands to the point of distraction, no matter the subject. Those hands beckoned Jack with unintentional power. They had mapped ancient ruins and brushed down pages of thick tomes and knew every inch of Jack’s body. Daniel had a spattering of fine hairs between the first and second knuckles of his ring and pinky fingers. He didn’t know if that meant anything. He looked down at his own hands, which were hair free on that region, and decided he liked that Daniel had that defining, subtle feature.
“Jack?”
He stopped looking at his hands. Daniel was staring at him, eyebrows raised. Jack nodded to show he was listening and Daniel continued speaking. There were ink stains on the outside of Daniel’s right hand, Jack noticed as it was waved in front of his face, smudged the way cheap newsprint did. Only it was blue. Jack smiled a little and transferred his attention to Daniel’s eyes.
Passion made them shine. This wasn’t a new discovery. Jack noticed it all the time, and in various situations and degrees. He thought maybe he should be bothered that discussing dead civilizations evoked a similar response to that he got when they were making love, but he just found it so Daniel. How could he love Daniel any less for being the way he was? That was impossible. It wasn’t the color that was such a lure. A blue eye was a blue eye was a blue eye. But Jack could look at them for hours, bored off his rocker by Daniel spouting on about Mesopotamia or Mongolia or Mycenae, but at rapt attention anyway.
Daniel glanced his way and stopped pacing. The furrow that had gotten deeper with each passing year appeared between his eyebrows and Jack was treated to a look, the look. Daniel knew he was speaking to deaf ears and he didn’t look pleased. Jack tipped his head.
“Jack, you’re not listening,” Daniel said, crossing his arms. “I really need you to pay attention. I’m going to need your help on this later.”
Sometimes Daniel was not quite so subtle with his clues.
“I’ll start,” Jack said, and he meant it.
Daniel watched him for several seconds, as if gauging his sincerity. Only when he’d apparently gained sufficient evidence did he continue talking. Jack listened, smiling as he continued watching as well. Daniel paced back and forth a few steps, and picked up the notepad from the table. The pages flapped as Daniel gesticulated. Jack’s smile grew.
“Pop quiz,” Daniel said, ceasing to pace. “What did I just say?”
“That it’s important we get fresh basil, not dried, because Fraiser said the recipe won’t turn out if we get the wrong stuff,” Jack said. “I still don’t get why we were saddled with shopping for this thing.”
Daniel set the notepad down and looked at Jack. The annoyance in his eyes softened to affection, though Jack had no idea what he had said or done to prompt it. There was muted passion in Daniel’s gaze. Moving around the table, he came to stand directly behind him. Jack leaned into Daniel’s touch, felt the muscles of his neck and shoulders become pliable and warm as Daniel rubbed them.
Sometimes, most of the time, he understood Daniel completely.
