Future Imperfect by Cowardly Lion
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Category: Jack/Daniel
Genres: Established Relationship, Humor
Rated: Mature
Warnings: None
Series: Future Tense
Summary: Daniel has just gotten some surprising news. As Jack waits alone with him in the briefing room, discussion ensues. This is an M-Preg story.

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Author's Chapter Notes:
Set anytime that Sam's a Major and Janet's still alive. Mature rating for language. Unbeta'd. This is all Whisper's fault. Thank you, Whisper. :D
by Cowardly Lion

“I can’t believe you knocked me up,” Daniel complained bitterly. He put his elbows on the briefing room table, resting his head in his hands.

“Hey! Not really my fault, now is it?” Shifting nervously in his chair, Jack bumped knees with Daniel. As they sat next to each other in the briefing room waiting for everyone else to show up for The Big Meeting, he realized that this was the first time he’d been alone with Daniel since Doc Frasier had made the startling discovery. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he said to himself, “What the hell went on at that temple?”

“We’ve already been over this,” Daniel mumbled wearily to the table top. “I don’t remember any more than you do.” Keeping his head propped up with one hand, he gestured vaguely with the other. “Seldom seen sacred ritual, holy chalice, divine incense, anointed with symbolic ointment, a few sips of the Wine of Renewal, the chanting, the…”

“Yadda,” grunted Jack, waving one hand in a ‘get on with it’ kind of way.

“…then things get hazy and there’s just flashes of us naked and, um, intimate,” out of habit, Daniel’s eyes darted around as though afraid of being overheard, but Jack didn’t know why he bothered, since that cat had gotten out of the bag hours ago “and the next thing I know we’re waking up in the infirmary missing three days.”

Now, two months later, their memories were just as hazy despite efforts to remember. Their team mates weren’t much help, either. No amount of negotiation could convince the Demarians that Teal’c’s symbiote and the naquadah markers in Sam’s blood were harmless, so neither had been allowed near the temple. As far as the priests were concerned Sam and Teal’c were lucky not to get sent right back through the stargate due to the “taint of the glowing evil” that marked them. All Sam and Teal’c knew was that Jack and Daniel had left them guarding the gate while they went off to attend the rarely performed mystic rite.

Twelve hours later, the priests rolled up to the stargate in a fancy wagon, dumped Jack and Daniel, fully clothed and completely unconscious, on the ground. The priests were talking excitedly and waving their arms. Neither Sam nor Teal’c spoke the language and their translator was out for the count. As Sam later explained to Jack, “Sir, we had no idea what was wrong with you two and we couldn’t tell if the natives were saying “Long live the Taur’i” or “Fuck off and die”, so I dialed up, Teal’c flung you guys through the wormhole, and we beat feet out of there as fast as we could.”

Jack had a vague recollection of the crowd in the temple. “I wonder,” he mused “if we had an audience for the naked bits”.

Daniel paled, horrified at the thought. “Oh, god, I hope not.”

“Really? I think I remember applause. That would have been nice.”

Slowly, Daniel turned his head and did his best to bore directly though Jack’s head with his eyes. “Applause?” he repeated slowly. “NICE?”

“Well, a man likes a little encouragement now and again,” Jack said defensively.

“Oh, was the moaning and the “oh god, Jack, yeah, that’s it, fuck me, harder, harder” too cryptic for you?” fumed Daniel.

“I’m just saying,” shrugged Jack. “Besides, you gotta admit, knocking up a guy is a pretty amazing feat. That alone deserves some kind of accolade.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, then Daniel hissed, “I am never letting you top again.”

“Oh, like I ever get to top as it is,” grumbled Jack. “You always seem to get there first.”

Daniel stared at him, incredulous. “Who are you trying to kid? You love it when I top. You spread ‘em at the drop of a hat.”

“I do not!” Jack scooted his chair back so that he could turn toward Daniel.

“Oh, please,” scoffed Daniel, “you spend most of our time off artfully draping yourself over the furniture pretending to pick stuff up, but the whole time, you’re glancing over you shoulder to see if I’m watching your ass.”

“Oh, yeah? Well…” Jack floundered a bit, caught dead to rights. Damn. He thought he was being subtle. “I don’t ALWAYS do that.”

“No,” snapped Daniel, “only for special occasions, like days of the week that end in y.”

“Do not!”

Decibels and tempers rose as they hurled insults at each other until they were shouting.

“You’re a total slut, Jack!”

“Yeah, well you’re pissy!”

“Bottom Boy!”


Taken aback by the unexpected epithet, Daniel blinked at Jack. “What?”

“Fauntleroy,” repeated Jack in a normal conversational tone. “You know, that old-timey movie about that kid in the stupid clothes who ends up on a fishing boat full of tough guys.”

“Actually, “Little Lord Fauntleroy” was a literary work from the 1880’s by Frances Hodgson Burnett who also wrote “A Little Princess”. Her works have an underlying social theme-”

“That was that movie with Shirley Temple and the dancing butler, wasn’t it?” That was one of Jack’s favorite movies so he knew full well that the Dancing Butler was Arthur Treacher. He’d been a fan of Shirley Temple since he was a kid, but there was no way in hell he’d ever admit it. Not after Joey Pinatubo made fun of him for it in elementary school until Jack sent him home crying with a bloody nose. That had been worth every hour of detention. He thought of all the plucky orphan girls Shirley played and wondered vaguely if his childhood crush on her had influenced his attraction to Daniel Jackson, plucky orphan boy. He had a brief vision of Daniel in blonde ringlets, a short dress, and tap shoes and shivered at the wrongness. Okay, the whole plucky orphan thing was just a coincidence.

Daniel glared, annoyed at the interruption. He rolled his chair tight up to the table, resting his arms along the smooth wood. “Why does everything come back to movies with you?”

“Why does it always come back to books with you?” Jack amused himself by swiveling side to side before leaning back. “And anyway, we were talking about the first kid, Fondle Boy the Poorly Dressed, who was lucky enough to stumble into the company of real men where he learned manly arts like fishing, and grilling meat, and how to duck when his CO tells him to.”

Daniel zeroed in on the only relevant comment. “Are you dissing my wardrobe?”

Smirking, Jack held up one hand. “Two words for you, Daniel.” The index finger flicked out. “Plaid.” The middle finger joined it “And tweed.”

Daniel flushed a very becoming shade of pink. “That was years ago, and anyway, there’s nothing wrong with plaid or tweed.”

“Sure, if you want to look like a poor grad student,” dismissed Jack.

“I WAS a poor grad student.” Daniel was getting exasperated.

“Doesn’t mean you have to look like one,” Jack pointed out, rather reasonably he thought.

Daniel stared at him, mouth agape. Slowly, his brows drew together in a frown, his mouth closed, and his lips pursed up. Jack was starting to get the feeling that he wouldn’t have to worry about topping for a while. He checked the height and depth of the furrows between Daniel’s eyebrows and started to realize he might not have to worry about bottoming for a while either. Daniel’s eyes were narrowed. Uh-oh. The spare room was starting to look like a sure bet. Time for a strategic retreat.

“You’re right,” he admitted, picking at a seam on the arm of the chair. “That was years ago. Once you had a steady paycheck coming in, things changed. You’ve got better taste in clothes than I do.”

Daniel snorted. “A mastadge has better taste in clothes than you do.”

Manfully ignoring the jibe, Jack continued. “Your apartment is beautifully decorated too. You have a good sense of style and color plus a definite eye for quality.”

“You really mean that?”

Jack nodded. “I let you redo my den and my bedroom, didn’t I?”

“You did, didn’t you?” said Daniel as his mouth relaxed and his eyebrows unfurled.

Jack put his hand on Daniel’s face, his palm curving along the cheek, his thumb rubbing softly along the cheekbone. He could tell he had the sappy smile on his face that was only for Daniel. With his other hand, he took Daniel’s hand in his, their fingers curling over each other. Looking into those precious blue eyes, he whispered, “I swear to you, Daniel that no matter what happens I’ll be by your side, always and forever.” And right there in the briefing room in the middle of the SGC, security cameras be damned, Jack pressed the tenderest of kisses to Daniel’s sweet lips to seal his pledge. Pulling back, he thought his eyes felt as moist as Daniel’s looked.

Daniel squeezed their hands, and put his forehead on Jack’s. “Love you,” he murmured.

Jack swept him into an awkward one-armed hug, hampered by the chairs. “Love you, too.” He pressed his face into Daniel’s neck, breathing in the warm scent of him. A lump of unspoken words caught in his throat and his heart felt too small to hold all the love he felt for this man. There was a sniff as Daniel’s arm tightened around him, letting Jack know he wasn’t alone in his feelings.

The moment ended at the sound of several sets of footsteps in the hallway. The click of high heels meant Doc Frasier. Jack could also hear Carter’s quick, light step, Teal’c’s regal tread, and General Hammond’s measured pace. They broke their embrace, but Jack tightened his grip on the hand in his, refusing to let Daniel pull away. Fingers still entwined, Jack sat back in his chair and waited for what the future would bring.

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