Author: otter
Summary: Jack could taste Guinness and Daniel on his tongue. He leaned in closer, and pressed his mouth against Daniel's mouth, and it tasted just the same.
SG-1 | Jack/Daniel/Sam | PG-13 | Sep 2004 
Jack cornered her in the kitchen, boxed her in between his arms, pressed her up against the counter, and said, "Carter," against her neck.
She said, "Sir?" and he muffled the question mark with his mouth.
The television in the living room was a muttering of background noise as he swiped his tongue along Carter's bottom lip; he was still exploring her mouth when Daniel's voice said, "What is the Battle of Ligny."
Carter said 'hmmmph' against his mouth and finally pushed him away; she used her fingers to wipe the shared saliva from her lips and said, "Colonel?" She didn't seem angry so much as completely bewildered.
Jack shrugged, leaned back against the counter, and reflected that he probably should've gotten her to drink another beer -- maybe two -- before he'd tried that one. "I'm tired, Carter," he said. "And none of this actually matters, and I just... nevermind." He scowled, waved a hand and then scrubbed it through his hair. "Nevermind."
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then back again, and finally just turned around and grabbed another two bottles of beer from the fridge.
Daniel's voice floated out from the living room again. "What is hypoxia."
Carter stepped around him to leave the kitchen, and she gave him a wide berth on the way. He stood there against the counter for a few minutes after she'd gone; he stared at nothing in particular, and listened to the low murmur of Carter and Daniel's voices in the next room. The words were indistinct, but the sound itself was comforting, like the crackle of a warm fire on an alien world where nothing else was familiar.
A little louder, Daniel said, "What is off-sides."
Carter, just barely audible, said, "You've been hanging out with the Colonel too much," and they both laughed, as if Jack and Carter hadn't just kissed in Jack's kitchen.
Jack scrubbed hard at his eyes, and wished he had something better than beer.
Sam said, "What is sanguine!" at the same moment that Daniel did, and the outburst was followed by sounds of a scuffle as they apparently settled the tie with a cage match, or possibly a round of Twister.
Jack fetched himself another beer, then strolled very casually back into the living room. The combat appeared to have died down, because Carter and Daniel were slumped against each other on the couch, smiling around the mouths of their beer bottles. Carter didn't look up as Jack entered -- she just took a deeper, longer guzzle of her drink -- but Daniel did; his eyes were glassy and the dopey grin on his face didn't fade.
"There was an aviation question," Daniel said. "But you missed it."
Jack took a seat in the armchair across from them, far enough from Carter that the tension seeped out of her shoulders. "Oh well," he said. "I think my score was somewhere around negative six hundred, anyway."
"Seven, actually," Daniel said. "And Sam's down by three thousand. But who's counting?"
Carter poked him in the side and scowled. "Just because I went to get the beers. You're such a cheater."
Daniel laughed at her, then he laughed at the TV, and then he spent the next hour or so laughing at pretty much everything while getting progressively drunker.
By the time Sam swayed to her feet and said, "We'd better get going; can you call us a cab, sir?" Daniel was already singing a very faint drunken rendition of what might've been "Home On The Range" but sounded more like "Home, home at Jack's hooooouse."
Carter headed toward the bathroom.
Jack did not call a cab.
He helped Daniel off the couch instead, hauling his very loose-limbed friend to his feet and shuffling along with him toward the bedroom. They only made it halfway there before Daniel tripped over his own feet and pulled them both into the wall; he sagged there, laughing, with Jack supporting almost his entire weight and Daniel's yeasty beer breath chuffing against Jack's chin.
Jack could taste Guinness and Daniel on his tongue. He leaned in closer, and pressed his mouth against Daniel's mouth, and it tasted just the same.
When Carter stepped out of the bathroom and into the hall, they were still there, pressed up against the wall and each other, and Daniel surprisingly okay about Jack's hand being down his pants and Jack's mouth exploring Daniel's neck.
Daniel was saying, "Oh god, oh god," and Carter echoed him, like they were still playing along with Daniel's game show and they'd both come up with the same answer.
For a long moment, nobody moved -- except Jack, whose hand was moving steadily inside Daniel's pants -- then Daniel sighed, and Carter tried to make a break for it.
Jack propped Daniel up with his hip, and stopped Carter with his free hand. "Carter," he said, haltingly, and that was all he came up with. So he leaned in and kissed her again, soft, and wrapped that hand around the back of her neck to hold her in place.
She whimpered when he released her, and Daniel whimpered, and then Daniel's hand closed over Jack's crotch and he whimpered, too. Carter put one hand on Jack's waist, and the other on Daniel's wrist, and said, "Oh god, what are we doing?"
Daniel said, "Don't know. Very drunk. Touch me."
Jack twisted his wrist, wishing he'd opened Daniel's pants first, and leaned his head against Daniel's shoulder. Daniel's hot breath slid down the back of his neck and made him moan. He let his eyes fall shut.
When he opened them, Daniel was farther away, and was saying, "Anyway, I'm sorry, but that just happens to be how I feel about it. What do you think?"
Jack put down his spoon, and tried very hard not to scream.
the end