Status: C/U
Category: songfic, D/P (pre)slash
Spoilers: general knowledge of series. Teeny tiny one for Small Victories
Disclaimers: Dannyboy’s drifting lazily down the River Denial, and Paul’s got a season pass to come visit. ‘What Would Happen?’ by Meredith Brooks, off Blurring the Edges
Rating: not for the little ones
Content Warning: slash, mush
Summary: Daniel and Paul’s thoughts about each other
Dedication: to the slashsluts on Saturday morning. Better than cartoons.
Archiving: Yes please, just let me know so I can come and gloat. 
Notes: Can’t help it, sorry
On with the show!

He’s back. I swear I feel his presence, without even looking at the door. 

“Dr Jackson!”

I turn around and see him.

I always thought that ‘twinkling eyes’ was a figure of speech. But there is no better word for it. Green, alert, observant and twinkling. Like he’s keeping secret an inside joke. He offers me a small smile, suitable for the situation, yet which could be interpreted as so much more. Oh, he’s playing with me.

No one else notices my silence. They’re talking amongst themselves, filling the gaps in the air around us. I’m swallowing hard against the sudden dryness in my mouth. I lick my lips, and watch as his smile flash momentarily from Pentagon professional to something far more sensual. 

He gets his expression back under control quickly, but not before his eyes rake me from head to feet, seeing through the fatigues. It’s like he can’t resist the urge to look, and look again. And all I seem to do is stand there silently and let him drink his fill.

Jack, always boisterous, moves past me and somehow I get carried along in his wake to take my place at the table. He sits opposite me, so proper as he opens his file and begins to speak. His words flow over me, the cadence familiar, the tone soothing. I can’t help but stare.

We flirt, we talk, we laugh, and once we even almost grieved together. But neither of us seems willing to take the next step. And I’m slowly going mad, wondering.

In my mind, he's gently aggressive, meeting me as an equal, pushing and giving with me. He knows what it feels like to always be in control – I wonder if he also knows the joy of just letting go, of simply feeling. Letting me claw at his shirt as he open up to me and consumed me.

But there is that shirt – airforce blue, decorated with his service ribbons, his shoulder-boards. There is no denying it, they are a part of him. They helped make him. But would another’s rules be enough to override his feelings, to make him step away?

I can’t say. In my mind, the rules are forgotten, and it’s just us. Mouth on mouth, skin on skin, each wanting it as badly as the other. Wanting, desiring, needing, clawing and hugging and licking and tasting until it all explodes.

I can see it so easily. Body twined around body, his mouth breathing into my ear all the words I long to hear. He know the power of words as well as the power of action. I could trust him to understand how and when to use each.

Sudden movement, the briefing over. I let out a breath I didn’t even know I had been holding, and push myself to my feet. I need to lean on the table as I try to get my balance. Nobody else notices my disorientation but him.

You’re there, brushing up by my side, seeking my face with your eyes. A questioning look I answer with a brief nod. I’m fine. There is nothing we can do, so I will just have to be fine.

You’re a military man, I still love my wife. These things win out over animal attraction.

Still I can’t help but wonder. What would it take, Paul Davis? What would it take to break through those intellectual, professional constraints, to gain access to the man beneath?

I won’t lure you. It would do neither of any good to cross those lines simply to indulge my curiosity or my hormones. The next time I see those beautiful green eyes, I will simply look the other way.

Paul

Daniel nods to me once, telling me silently that he’s fine. Sam Carter asks me a question, and when I look back, his face is shuttered tight. He’s fighting it, like I know we should. But I can’t help but wonder.

Sweet? No, I know somehow that you’d taste like coffee, slightly tangy and exotic. In my dreams, you pursue the kiss like you’d pursue anything else you have set your sights on – with all your will.

Chaste kisses, feather-soft and slow. Teasing gently, taking our time. Enjoying every touch, each kiss growing longer and deeper. Lingering in the pleasure of each other.

Until finally I stop fighting it, and let you unleash all your energy on me. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have all the intensity focussed on me. 

Mind-blowing, frightening, yet I would let you because I would trust you. I wouldn’t let you do it – you wouldn’t let yourself go – if we didn’t trust each other all the way.

But then the darker images come. The MPs, the court-martial. The disgrace of being caught in this-man’s military with another man.

I tell myself, as I always tell myself, that it wouldn’t be worth it for either of us. Why ruin our lives for one moment of happiness? It could never be perfect, even if we did take that leap together. We would always feel the shadow that hung over our heads. We would always be waiting for the axe to fall.

The voice of reason is getting fainter. I’m fighting a loosing battle, and I know it, but I will fight until the end. I won’t be the one responsible for ruining your life.

I haven’t been paying attention. I was heading to the VIP room, but instead my feet have carried me to another door. I don’t stop to think, I just knock. And I hear your voice call out to me from the other side.

You’re almost as surprised as I am. I don’t know why I’m here, and I stutter trying to think up an excuse. But you close the book in your hand, and invite me inside. You know, just I like do, what might happen if I don’t leave now. Yet still you offer, looking me straight in the eye.

I don’t even realize I’ve made my decision until I hear the door click shut behind me. We’re playing with fire here, and we both know it. But somehow the danger makes me want it even more.

We shouldn’t. I should stop. He should stop. But we can’t. We just can’t.

I can’t run away. I don’t want to run. I want to stay right here, with you. I can no longer deny myself what is being offered. And I want to offer to him in return.