“Jack, you've asked me that nine times now, and the answer isn't going to change. Go home. I have to finish this tonight, and, even if I get done in time, I still have to run those errands I mentioned. You said your friend wanted to play poker, so go -- play poker. Call me in the morning.”
“So, you're ...”
“Jack, we've already talked about this. Go, and have fun. I'll see you tomorrow morning, and don't forget my wake-up call.”
“But ...”
~He's driving me crazy,~ Daniel groaned inwardly, resigning himself to the fact that he'd have to make more of an effort to get rid of his insistent lover. He put down his pen, took off his glasses, and looked up from his computer. With an exasperated sigh, the archaeologist asked, “Have you heard of the curse of nine?”
“I don't do curses,” Jack quipped.
“I'm tempted,” Daniel stated strongly, crossing his arms.
“Okay, what's the curse of nine?” Jack asked curiously.
Pulling out the ‘big guns’, Daniel threatened, “Anyone who asks the same question more than nine times in one conversation will suffer from severe erectile dysfunction for *nine* years.”
“Reptile what?”
“Erectile dysfunction, Jack. It means im-po-ten-cy,” Daniel stated, elongating his pronunciation of the word. “Nine years, Jack,” he repeated zealously.
“There's no such thing,” the older man said, dismissing his soulmate's vehement threat. ~There can't be,~ he convinced himself.
With a smirk, Daniel admitted, “No, there isn't, but there should be.” He put his glasses back on and turned back to his computer, adding, “Do *not* ask me again, Jack. We've been going over this repeatedly for the last twenty-four hours. You know the plan, and we're going to stick to it.”
“But are you ...”
~That's enough.~ Fearing his lover would never leave, Daniel stood up and held up his arm in a ‘talk to the hand’ type gesture. ~I'll go check in with Sam, and maybe by the time I get back, my office will be free of irritating but handsome colonels!~ He walked out the door, saying, “See you tomorrow, Jack.”
Jack grumbled. He really had hoped to persuade Daniel to alter their plans, which called for the archaeologist to finish some research and then run errands, ranging from grocery shopping for the apartment to checking out some new book at the bookstore. Those same plans had Jack playing poker with some friends, including Andy, who worked for the sheriff's department.
~Stubborn,~ Jack thought as he finally walked out of Daniel's office and headed for the locker room.
====
“You're bluffing,” Jack accused Kurt Leffler.
“I never bluff,” Kurt replied as he held his cards close to his chest.
“Of course, you don't,” Jack responded. ~Oh, yes, you do. I have a full house, but the problem is that you're crazy enough to draw to an inside straight. Hmmm.~
“What's it gonna be, Jack?” Andy asked, anxious to see how the hand unfolded, especially since it was for the biggest pot of the night.
“I call,” Jack said, adding more chips into the pile.
“Flush, ace high,” Kurt said, placing his cards on the table.
Jack smiled as he laid out his hand, saying, “Full house; gotta love those nines.”
“Well played, Jack,” Andy praised, observing his friend's hand of three nine cards and two deuces.
“Just lucky,” the colonel quipped.
====
On his way home, Jack decided to stop at a twenty-four hour gas station/convenience store and pick up a couple of the things he'd run out of -- bread, chips, soup, and catsup. As he turned the corner of one of the short aisles, he accidentally bumped into a woman with frizzy black hair.
“Sorry, Ma'am,” Jack apologized as he bent over to pick up a couple of canned food items that she'd dropped.
“No problem. I wasn't looking where I was going.”
“I guess I wasn't, either. Good thing we weren't driving,” Jack joked.
The woman laughed as she reviewed her grocery items, then said, “Oh, I'm missing ... where are they?”
Jack looked around, spying two small cans of cat food a few feet away. He walked over and picked them up, holding the items out so she could see them.
“Nine Lives?” Jack questioned, as he read the label on the can.
“My cat insists on it,” the woman responded with a smile.
Jack nodded, then continued with his own shopping as the woman headed for the register to pay for her items.
About five minutes later, Jack was paying for his grocery items, too. He handed the clerk a twenty dollar bill and received back nine pennies.
“Sorry about the pennies. I ran out of nickels,“ the cashier apologized.
“It all spends the same,” Jack joked.
Seeing the canister for a local charity, Jack immediately deposited the change into the plastic container, then went back to his truck. Since he was at the gas station, he figured he might as well fill up his gas tank.
~Just nine gallons? Not as thirsty as I thought,~ the colonel chuckled as he removed the nozzle from the tank and then continued on his way.
====
~It's all his fault; I'm used to my Danny blanket now. Stubborn geek,~ Jack bemoaned as he struggled to fall asleep. Having failed with everything else, he imagined sheep jumping over his bed. “One sheep,” he counted aloud. ~This is stupid.~
“Two,” the weary man sighed, his eyelids firmly open as he stared up at the ceiling. ~Dumb colonel, for real.~
“Three.” Jack faked a yawn, hoping the act would trigger some internal sensor that might help him fall asleep. Unfortunately, it didn't work, and he refocused on the creatures of his mind. ~They should be bigger.~
“Four.” The colonel frowned at his 'bigger' sheep. ~Fluffier, like clouds,~ he declared as he reshaped his imaginary sleep makers.
“Five.” ~I'm a grown man, and I'm counting sheep? I'm out of my friggin' mind.~
“Six,” Jack continued, as he began to think about his lover's sweet six that he loved to watch. ~Don't think, O'Neill, especially about that.~
“Seven,” the silver-haired man groaned, his frustration mounting. ~Danny, this is *all* your fault.~
“Eight,” Jack yawned, smacking his lips audibly afterwards. ~Sheeep. Frig...friggin' ri...diculous.~
“Niiiii...”
Amazingly, Jack fell asleep just as he counted the ninth sheep, jumping over the king-sized bed.
====
“Rise and shine, Dannyboy,” Jack chirped over the phone as he stood in his kitchen, looking out into the dark of the morning.
“Wh...hu...wha...t?” Daniel mumbled, licking his lips as he fell back to sleep, the phone dropping down from its perch against his ear to land on the floor.
Daniel was lying on his right side, his bedspread pulled up to his waist, his body curved slightly.
“Daniel?” Jack called out. “Oh, for crying out loud,” he muttered. “DANIEL, WAKE UP!” he shouted into the phone.
Miles away, the archaeologist smiled as he snuggled into his fluffy white pillow.
“Danny? Are you there?” Groaning, Jack hung up the phone. “For Pete's sake,” he grumbled, glancing at his watch. ~Okay, it's nine minutes till. I can get there in twenty, wake him up, then hustle it to the Mountain in time for my meeting with Hammond -- barely. Traffic -- sorry, Sir, it was just that 5 a.m. traffic.~ Jack rolled his eyes, revising his anticipated response to, ~Sorry, Sir, but Doctor Jackson needed a wake-up call.~ He sighed, ~Sorry, Sir, I overslept.~
As Jack headed for the door, he thought, ~I'm taking one for the team. You can thank me later, Danny.~
====
~What the heck! I'm gonna be late, anyway,~ Jack thought, stopping at a local donut shop. He walked inside, slipping his keys into his pocket, and coming to a standstill as he noticed the shockingly bare window displays. “Sugar shortage?” he asked when the Asian shop owner walked out.
“Oven problem. I apologize, but all we have right now are the maple bars and a few donut holes.”
~Danny isn't a big maple bar eater, but I like 'em,~ the colonel thought. “Give me one maple bar and ten donut holes.”
After the woman got the maple bar, she counted the donut holes, sighing, “We only have nine.”
“Nine? That seems to be my number lately. I'll take 'em all.”
Still apologizing, the owner gave Jack ten percent off for the inconvenience of not having much to choose from, after which, Jack got back into his truck and went to Daniel's apartment. Once there, he made some coffee, then awoke his lover, and left him the chocolate donut holes for a quick sugar infusion that was bound to help the younger man get going.
====
Seeing the second-in-command of Cheyenne Mountain walking into his office, Hammond looked at the clock and bristled, “Colonel, you're nine minutes late.”
“Sorry, Sir. Traffic was murder,” Jack lied. ~What is it with me and this nine stuff, all of a sudden?~
Hammond glared, then ordered Jack to sit down. For almost a minute, the major general continued to glare at the colonel. It was one of those moments that reminded Jack of why the bald-headed man was in charge of the Mountain. He sat quietly, except for one nervous clearing of his throat.
“SG-1 has a standard recon at noon. Barring complications, and, Colonel, I would advise that there be none,” Hammond warned, then continued, “I want your backlog of reports completed.”
“Backlog ... Sir?” Jack asked with wide eyes.
“Colonel, you have failed to submit your report for SG-1's last *nine* missions.”
“Nine?” Jack echoed. ~I could have sworn it was only six.~
“Nine complete reports, by the end of the day, Jack, even if that means your day ends when tomorrow begins. Understood?” Hammond questioned.
“Understood, Sir,” Jack acknowledged, standing and then walking out, repressing the urge to shudder at the idea of doing so much paperwork in just one day.
====
Walking down the long corridor on the twenty-third floor of the SGC, Jack was deep in thought, a serious expression on his face.
“Colonel! Hey, Jack, hold up!” Lou Ferretti called out, smirking at his friend's lack of response. Once Jack stopped and turned around, Lou asked, “Developing a new strategy for defeating the Goa'uld?”
“What?”
“Your expression, Colonel,” Lou said, reverting to his friend's rank since other personnel were passing by.
“Oh, strategy, yes, Goa'uld no,” Jack answered.
“For our next hockey match?”
“You don't stand a chance, Ferretti,” the colonel teased as the two started to walk together down the corridor.
“So, spill!” the major requested.
“I don't have any milk,” Jack quipped, apparently unwilling to divulge his thoughts.
As they reached the elevator, Lou took out his wallet, opened it, and withdrew some dollar bills.
Jack used his key card to call the elevator and asked, “What's that?” when he saw Lou offer him the money.
“I owe you, remember?”
“Ah, yes,” Jack said, taking the money and counting it. “The bet about ...”
“Colonel, let's not go there,” Lou suggested as a Marine walked by, saluting Jack and getting a nod in return. ~You'd think they'd learn by now he doesn't want to be saluted.~
“Good idea,” Jack agreed, but quickly added, “This is only nine dollars. You owe me ten!”
“I need a buck for coffee,” Lou said as the elevator opened.
Jack walked in, nodded at his friend, and said, “Traveling a little light?”
“Yeah, well, Carolyn ...” the major began, referring to his wife, who was battling an illness.
The doors were about to shut when Jack slammed it back with his hand and inquired, “How she's doing?”
“Hanging in there. Hey, I've gotta go. Catch ya later,” Lou spoke.
“Yeah,” Jack sighed, watching his friend walk away. Slowly, he dropped his hand, backing away into the elevator. As the doors closed, he stared at the money he still held in his other hand. With a bob of his head, he slipped the money into his pocket. ~Shouldn't have made the bet. You can't afford to lose 'em. I'll have to work on that.~
====
SG-1 walked into the briefing room within seconds of each other for their 0900 briefing for their mission that afternoon.
“So, where are we off to today?” Jack asked his second-in-command.
Sam turned off the lights and displayed the first slide in her presentation as she answered, “PR1-999.”
“Figures,” Jack responded, shaking his head.
“Sir?” Sam asked, confused by the comment.
“Nothing, Carter. Go on with your ... whatever,” the colonel ordered, motioning with his hand for her to continue.
“Um, well, PR1-999 appears to be ....”
====
Early that evening, Jack was taking a few minutes to ingest his dinner. He wasn't calling it eating, since he didn't think what he was consuming could be counted as food. He had stared at the protein choices being offered and determined that they must have a new cook on base. He'd have to check into that, because this was just not acceptable.
“Colonel!” Sergeant Walter Davis called out.
“Whatever it is, Sergeant, the answer is 'no'. I'm up to my wazoo in reports,” Jack stated.
“No, Sir, but do you have your raffle ticket?”
“Raffle ticket?” Jack asked blankly.
“We had the raffle as part of Cheyenne Mountain Day last month. Colonel, we've been trying to locate the winner for two weeks, but we lost the information on who bought the ticket. Well, Sir, it's just ...
“What?” Jack asked, thinking he couldn't possibly be the winner.
“Well, Colonel, we've sent out four memos on the subject, and we've heard from just about everyone, but no one has had the winning ticket number. Ah, knowing how you are with reading ...” Davis trailed off sheepishly.
Jack glared, but reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He thumbed through some miscellaneous papers, finally locating the raffle ticket.
“What's the winning number?” the colonel asked.
“Nine,” Davis answered.
Jack stared at him, then at the ticket before mumbling, “I should have read my memos.” He handed the ticket to the sergeant, saying, “You've found your winner. What did I win?”
====
“Danny, pack your bags,” Jack instructed as he walked into the living room of his lover's loft apartment.
“Huh?”
After a quick kiss, the colonel explained, “I won. I would have preferred second prize, but we'll make the best of it.”
“Jack, what are you talking about?” Daniel asked, letting the novel he'd been reading drop to his lap.
“That raffle we had at the Mountain -- I'm the winner!”
“You always are with me, Babe,” Daniel interjected, leaning over for another kiss.
Jack smiled at his soulmate, then continued, “I won a weekend getaway.”
“Great! When?”
“Now.” Seeing the archaeologist's surprised look, he explained, “They had trouble finding me.”
Daniel sighed, realizing what must have happened, and said, “You didn't read the memos that came out, right?”
The older man shrugged innocently, saying, “The bad news is the reservations can't be changed; it has to be now. The good news is I finished all the reports, so Hammond's giving me the time, and you already have the weekend clear, so ... we're off!”
“You still haven't told me where,” Daniel stated.
“Oregon -- some place called The Resort at the Mountain,” Jack responded.
“Oh,” Daniel said, not having heard of the place. “What part of Oregon?”
“It's near Mt. Hood. Come on,” Jack encouraged, patting his lover's thigh as he stood up. “We have things to do.”
“Uh, Jack, the reservations ...”
“For two! Let's go, Danny!”
====
“The bathroom is right here on the left,” the bellman said as he carried in the luggage.
Jack shook his head as he realized what the room number was -- twenty-nine.
The bellman walked forward into the main portion of the fireside suite and continued, “The kitchenette is fully equipped, as you can see. Everyone loves the fireplace. It makes this room one of my favorites.”
Jack nodded, walking forward. The king-size bed was very inviting. It sat between the kitchenette and the fireplace, which immediately brought to mind images of a cozy feast with his soulmate.
The bellman continued, “The balcony has a nice view.” He unlocked the door, extending his arm outward. Then he walked back into the main part of the room, going by the small table that sat by the glass balcony doors to the sofa. “The sofa extends out, makes a pretty comfortable bed. If you need help on that this evening, just give us a call.”
“I think we can handle it,” Jack smirked without letting on that they had no intention of utilizing the sofa as a bed.
“And, of course, the TV and desk. All the information on the resort is here, too. Would you like me to verify your tee-off time this afternoon?”
“Tee-off time?” Daniel questioned, his eyebrows raising.
“Your weekend package gives you a priority. Just call downstairs when you're ready. The details are in here,” the man said, handing Jack a folder filled with information about his unique weekend package.
Jack handed the man five dollars and then made sure the door was closed.
“Tee-off time?” Daniel questioned, his eyebrows rising.
As he perused the information in the folder, Jack sat down at the edge of the bed and said, “It seems we're at a golf resort, Love.”
“Golf? I've never played golf in my life.”
“Me, neither.”
“Oh, that's, uh, great,” Daniel snarked, wondering how'd they'd missed that little piece of information.
“There's always a first time.”
====
That evening, the two amateur golfers walked into their room, both laughing at their antics.
“Gawd, Jack,” Daniel continued to laugh as he plopped down on the bed. “I just about died when my ball whizzed by that guy and knocked off his toupee.”
“At least your clubs stayed in your hands. I don't think it's normal for the golf club to beat the ball onto the green,” Jack laughed, sitting next to his lover.
“The pros all thought we were nuts,” Daniel opined.
“They just have a good sense of humor,” Jack refuted.
“The worst part was not realizing it was a joke,” the archaeologist lamented while his lover laughed at the memory.
One of the pros, seeing how out of their element Jack and Daniel were, had instructed Daniel to go into the pro shop and purchase a ball marker. Daniel had done so, asking the clerk, who had obviously been in on the gag, how much a marker was.
“One dollar,” the man had answered.
“One, please,” Daniel had requested, handing over a dollar bill.
The clerk had taken the dollar, opened the register, and then handed Daniel a penny in return. Daniel had stood there for a moment, stunned. Finally, he had gone outside, and, when asked to show his marker, had held up the bronze item, prompting an immediate outpouring of laughter.
“I knew it,” Daniel had sighed, realizing it had been a joke.
“We improvise a lot,” the pro had jested as he laughed.
“It was pretty funny, Danny,” Jack commented.
“Not as funny as hitting your ball into the dining area,” Daniel countered with a smile.
“It ricocheted,” Jack rationalized. “Who knew a golf ball could do that?” he laughed about his ball on the eighteenth hole that had bounced off a tree, then rolled forcefully to an outdoor vending machine, hitting it hard enough that it bounced through an open window into the dining area. “At least I got the last laugh.”
“Yeah, it was a good line,” Daniel agreed, referring to when Jack had made his way into the dining room, all eyes on him as he walked to the ball, which lay untouched at the center of the room. Picking it up, he had looked over at the pros, who had followed him inside and asked, “So, what's the rule about playing through now?”
“Wasn't that couple a hoot, Danny?”
“Oh, gawd!” an embarrassed Daniel expressed, lying back on the bed and bringing his left hand to rub against his forehead. “I thought I had killed them.”
“They were definitely good sports!” Jack exclaimed, laughing as he leaned back, twisting over to lay on his side as he looked down at his lover.
“It was so embarrassing,” Daniel said. He'd hit his ball, cutting it to the right. As a result, it had gone so off its path that it was actually going onto another green. The problem had been that a golf cart was moving, going from the tee to the hole. The archaeologist had feared his ball would hit whomever was driving it. “But at least it missed them.”
“Alive and cooperative,” Jack mused about the couple, who had been laughing heartily even as the amateur golfers approached. “That was a great shot, Love.”
“Yeah, had I been aiming to hit the top of their golf cart!” Daniel exclaimed, his fingers still massaging his forehead as he shook his head. “You didn't help!”
“Danny, it was funny,” Jack stated. Then, mimicking the senior citizen driver of the white golf cart, he pretended to trace a bushy moustache and said in a Cockney accent, “Didn't have a lotta Donald there, me old china. Looks like your ball’s on our cart. All went a bit Pete Tong, hey? Well, it’s pretty Mork out here, Mate. You can use that as an excuse!”
“Gawd,” Daniel lamented, covering his face with both of his palms. “And then you had to stand there and just stare at him and say what you said. I can't believe you said that.”
“I couldn't believe you understood him, Danny! There you were, saying 'Yeah, I guess', at this guy, who'd just spoken a load of gibberish.”
“Cockney Rhyming Slang is a language all of its own, Jack, and I studied it a bit at college,” Daniel admitted. “All he said was that we didn't have a lot of luck, that the ball was on his cart, and things had gone wrong.”
“*That's* what he said?” the colonel questioned.
“And that it was windy, and we could always use that as an excuse for being idiot golfers,” Daniel stated.
“He called us idiot golfers?”
“No, that was me,” the linguist stated with a nervous chuckle.
Jack cocked his head slightly, accepting the review, then said, “Well, I didn't have a clue what he'd said, so I said the only thing that came to mind.”
Daniel slid his hands down only slightly, revealing his eyes as he looked at the older man and replied, “'I don't wear thongs'” was the only thing you could think of to say? Oh, gawd!” he laughed, horrified at the memory.
Jack leaned forward, kissing the backs of his Love's hands, a smile on his face. He pulled the hands back, one by one, to reveal Daniel's handsome face, which now sported a small smile.
“Did you have ... something in mind ... Colonel?”
The older man grinned, then placed a tender kiss on the other man's lips.
“I'll assume that's a ... a 'yes',” Daniel said, his blue eyes smiling even brighter than his lips.
“I was thinking ... this,” Jack said, placing another kiss on his lover's lips, then slipping his tongue inside Daniel's mouth.
The couple's passion quickly exploded into a loving fusion of their bodies, after which the satiated men fell into a happy sleep, their arms wrapped around each other as they did so.
====
“You know, I think my shoulder is sore,” Daniel remarked, reaching around with his left hand to rub behind his right shoulder as best as he could. The two men had been awake for about an hour. It was still nighttime, and they had gotten up and taken a shower together. Now, both wore just their pajama bottoms as they searched the kitchenette for something quick and easy to eat. “I think, uh, it was our responsibility to stock the shelves, Babe,” he lamented, finding the cabinets empty.
Jack walked over to stand behind his lover, placing his hands around Daniel's waist. He tilted his head slightly to place a series of loving kisses all around the other man's shoulder.
“Better?”
“Yes, much,” Daniel chuckled. “Biofeedback.”
“What?” Jack questioned in a half-laugh.
“Uh, sort of like mind over matter. It's all psychological -- the concept that kissing makes pain go away, or lessens it. Biofeedback is essentially the process of learning to voluntarily control body functions that are normally assumed to be automatic, uh, to tell the pain to go away. They actually use it a lot to treat asthma, migraines, diabetes, alcoholism, epilepsy ...”
“What are you talking about?” Jack asked, staring into his lover's eyes, not sure if he should be amused or frustrated by the current lecture.
“Kissing making it feel better,” Daniel answered with a smile. “See, first, you have to locate the physical aspect. In this case, my shoulder hurt. Then, you use biofeedback, and that can be visual, auditory, or sensory. How open our minds are determines the validity of the treatment. Awareness can lead to control, like ... mind over matter. A child falls, his mother kisses the hurt and says it will make the child feel better. The child believes it. One kiss later, the pain is gone. There's no medical reason according to western beliefs, but it ... works,” the younger man said with a smile. “The child essentially modified the response in his brain to create a different, more desired, output. The pain was replaced with ... well, with love.”
“Daniel, why are you prattling about biography?” Jack questioned.
Daniel shook his head, chuckling as he corrected, “Biofeedback.” He put his arms around his lover's neck and answered, “Because you kissed my shoulder, and now it feels much better. When you touch me, Jack, I always feel better. There's no logic to it. There's nothing in the medical books to explain it, bu...but it's the truth. My ... body is learning about the ... biofeedback of ... of my lover.”
Jack grinned, feeling his temporary frustration leave his body. His lover was relating science to their relationship. Okay, it wasn't something he would have done, but Jack liked the connection, the concept that he was making the younger man feel better.
“I love you, Danny.”
“I love you, too,” Daniel responded as the two kissed.
“Come lay down, and I'll see if I can make sure that ache stays gone,” Jack suggested, leading Daniel over to the bed and then gently massaging Daniel's shoulder and back.
“Mmmm. Feels ... sooooo, uh ... gawd, good,” Daniel spoke, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the touch of his lover's fingers against his skin.
Jack added a few kisses to his efforts, leaving Daniel happy and smiling. Unfortunately, it also left the archaeologist sound asleep. He glanced over at the clock and chuckled -- it was nine minutes after the hour.
~Of course.~
====
“No more golf,” Jack teased as the lovers dressed the next morning.
“I'm not arguing,” Daniel chuckled.
“How about we just enjoy the fresh air?” Jack suggested.
“I like the sound of that,” Daniel agreed softly as the lovers kissed.
====
“It's so nice here,” Daniel opined, smiling when Jack took his hand.
The lovers always felt freer to show their love when outside of Colorado Springs and military environments; still, they were cognizant of young children and families. At the moment, though, they were pretty much by themselves, with just a few adults wandering in their vicinity.
“Hey, Danny, look!” Jack exclaimed as they approached an open area. There were people lounging beneath a canopy, while others were playing croquet. “Let's play!”
“Croquet?”
“I love croquet. Have you ever played?” Jack asked.
“Um ...”
“There's a first time for everything, Love,” the older man asserted.
“Yeah, golf, and that was yesterday,” Daniel replied.
The couple's croquet experience was totally unlike their golf round the day before. Daniel quickly caught on to the sport as the two met and chatted with others while they played on. It had been an enjoyable morning.
====
Eager to enjoy lunch, Jack and Daniel went inside the Tartans Pub and Steakhouse.
“This is ...”
“... neat,” Jack completed for his lover.
“Please, take a seat anywhere here,” a hostess invited, pointing to the very comfortable armchairs and sofas. “Take your time to review our menu, and let us know when you're ready to place your order. Would you like a drink?”
“Sure, um, just whatever ale you'd recommend,” Daniel responded, smiling at the woman.
“Beer, for me, please,” Jack responded. “Any will do.”
As the lovers took their seats, Daniel quoted Dean Aldrich, saying:
“If all be true that I do think,
There are five reasons we should drink:
Good wine -– a friend –- or being dry –-
Or lest we should be by and by –-
Or any other reason why.”
Jack chuckled, “'Or any other reason why' -- works for me.” He looked around, observing, “Nice.”
The roomy area was adorned with prints of the eight British Open golf courses and great views of the golf course, the Salmon River Valley, and the Mt. Hood National Forest. It was airy and peaceful, giving visitors room to breathe and just enjoy living.
Jack and Daniel chatted until the hostess returned a while later and took their order.
When the hostess next returned, she asked, “Gentlemen, would you prefer to eat in the Cellar Room or the Tartans Room? The Cellar Room is more intimate, and you'd be surrounded by displays of some of the finest wines in the Northwest. Our Tartans Room, on the other hand, is very light and features some great views of the golf course and forest.”
Jack and Daniel shared a look, then both looked at the waitress and answered, “Cellar Room.”
“Follow me, please,” the cordial female invited, leading them to their table in the Cellar Room.
Sure enough, the small room was definitely more intimate. At the moment, only three other couples were present, and all had their own corners and privacy. The lovers were pleased when the woman led them to the next most intimate area which would allow them to have the feeling of being alone.
“This is definitely ...” Daniel began.
“... nice,” both men agreed together as they held hands across the open table.
“You're beautiful, Danny,” Jack spoke softly.
While his first thoughts were to remind his lover that a man was not beautiful, Daniel smiled instead, unable to stop the inward glow the words had given him.
“And you're so ... gawd, you're sexy,” Daniel replied, his eyes alight with hunger unrelated to the food they were waiting for.
“If I am, it's only because you make me want to be, for you,” Jack responded in earnest. “You're my prize.”
“Prize?” Daniel questioned.
“For living,” Jack answered.
“I don't know that I'm ...”
“You are, Danny. You make the craziness we live through worth it,” Jack insisted softly. “It's all for you.”
“Jack ...”
“Here you go, Sirs,” the woman said, not batting an eyelash at the two male hands that remained clasped together. She placed the food on the table, arranging it appropriately and said, “If you need anything, please don't hesitate to let me know.”
“Thank you,” Jack and Daniel spoke in unison.
====
The lovers were again walking the large area the resort occupied, holding hands and just enjoying being together.
“Jack, did you see the information about ... fishing?”
Jack grinned. He'd seen it the moment they'd arrived at the Oregon facility. Obviously, he'd ignored it, knowing that fishing wasn't his soulmate's favorite activity.
“I hooked my fish,” Jack responded, glancing at his lover and pulling him closer, letting his arm go around the younger man's waist.
Daniel grinned, putting his arm around Jack as the lovers continued to walk.
====
“I almost wish we didn't have to leave,” Daniel lamented as the lovers packed.
“We got the latest checkout we could, Danny,” Jack acknowledged. “Duty calls.”
“A cliché?” Daniel laughed.
“A slip of the tongue,” Jack quipped.
“That goes without saying,” Daniel teased.
“I'd say that's it, in a nutshell,” the older man retorted, trying not to laugh.
“As luck would have it, I agree,” Daniel replied.
“Enough already,” Jack laughed, ending their cliché nonsense with a cliché.
Daniel laughed, and the two kissed. They carried their own luggage to the lobby and approached the bellman so they could request a cab for the airport.
“It'll be about nine minutes,” the bellman responded.
Looking at his lover, Jack laughed, “That's okay. Nine's my lucky number this week.”
Feedback Welcome - click here to email the author
