In the Month of Shemou
BY: Delilah
EMAIL: delilah_miranda@yahoo.com
RATING: M
WARNINGS: M/M Pairing.
CATEGORY: Slash, Established Relationship.
PAIRING: J/D.
SUMMARY: The joys of Thanksgiving with a blind Jack in charge of the deep fryer.
~oOo~
"Daniel, sit down."
"I can’t sit down. There’s a blind man deep frying a turkey in my
driveway."
"Teal’c is out there with him."
"Yeah, well. Teal’c said he wanted to witness the actual ritual conflagration of
the flightless fowl once proposed to be the symbol of our nation, it didn’t exactly
reassure me."
I’ve seen that look. That’s Sam’s patented
you’re-a-silly-Luddite-and-technology-is-our-friend look. She can try all she wants
but it will not replace the flashing terror of images of Jack being draped in gauze and
stretchered to the burn ward that keeps invading my every waking moment since Jack first
murmured the words "propane tank" and "thirty quarts of hot oil". The
same man who refused to even listen to the report from the local FOX station that fifteen
homes were burned to the ground last year by *sighted* people who thought frying their way
through Thanksgiving was a good idea.
"Then go out there."
"Oh no. I’d never hear the end of it."
Jack has been muttering for days about the high-smoke point of oils and whether to go with
Cajun spices. He is in no mood to be dissuaded.
"You remember where we were last Thanksgiving," Sam reminds me.
Oh, I remember. I spent last Thanksgiving scrubbing cranberry sauce off the infirmary
walls because lunch happened to coincide with one of Jack’s more memorable temper
tantrums.
I look out the window for what has to be the four hundredth time. Sam’s right. I
would have given a lot, a hell of a lot, back in those days when he wouldn’t eat, for
fear of looking like an idiot, to know that a year from then, I’d be here -- worried
about Jack’s
propensity for managing to look like he’s ignoring the fact he no longer has even a
glimmer of light perception.
The sound of Jack’s laugh floats through the cold and the closed door. Teal’c
has on one of Jack’s more memorable ski hats and Jack hasn’t even bothered with
his dark shades, though he is wrapped up in a parka. It hasn’t started snowing…
yet. But I can see small patches of yesterday’s rain frozen at the edge of the
driveway.
"I’m going to get the salt."
Sam waves a dismissing hand in my direction. "I’ll go check on the
dressing."
I murmur a distracted "thanks" and set about making anywhere Jack might wander
ice-free.
~oOo~
"What did I tell you?"
Jack’s rather smug about the main entrée – which is, I’ll admit, a
compelling crispy brown. And he still has all his fingers, a decided plus. He knows I was
worried ‘cause he gives my biceps a little squeeze as he steps behind me.
He fumbles a bit for the chair back and the general can’t help but steady him.
"Sir?" he inquires as he discreetly untangles himself. "I believe it is the
patriarch’s duty to give thanks and you’re closest to qualifying."
Hammond’s daughter and her two girls are meeting the general’s possible new
in-laws and the man’s been… quiet. His daughter’s regular Friday-night date
seems to have turned into just a bit more and, well, George is… adjusting.
Cassie’s off at her boyfriend’s parents as well and Janet’s been
commiserating.
We are, perhaps, one of the more unusual families joined together on this day of thanks.
The general must be having similar thoughts as he looks around the table. "I think
perhaps the honor should go to Teal’c."
"All right." Jack turns back toward the other end of the table.
"Teal’c."
Teal’c can look as gravely serious as would have once befitted the First Prime of a
god. He bows a little in the direction of his superior officer. "Among the Jaffa
there is a saying, I think it would be an appropriate benediction – One’s true
family is borne not of blood but of the forge of daily battle. I am most thankful to have
passed many days at the side of all of you."
"Amen," says Jack, surprisingly quietly, and I wonder if Sam and I are not the
only ones remembering the war we were waging three-hundred-and-sixty-five days ago.
But then he pulls out his chair and swings into it with a broad grin. "Hit the
trough, folks."
~oOo~
Leftovers have been doled out. Teal’c has conscientiously placed all of Jack’s
turkey-frying hardware back in the garage where it can rest safely out of the path of
unrepentant ex-colonels. Surprisingly, the general is the only guest that remains.
I hear Jack in the den, turning on ESPN. "Get you something to drink?"
Then he pads his way into the kitchen, more overtly cautious than usual since things have
been disarranged. He finds the edge of the counter with the back of one hand, an automatic
gesture now. I’ve almost forgotten how Jack would stride through the
mountain, long-legged and fast. He brushes along the formica edge until he reaches the
dishes still piled on the countertop then skims them lightly with four fingers and moves
on. He no longer turns in the direction of whatever his hands encounter. No longer tries
to see except by touch.
"Am I going to be able to find the beer, Danny?"
"Right in front."
"You want one?"
"No, I think I’ve had enough."
"That’s my cheap date," he teases, holding two bottles in one hand and
stretching out the other for my soapy one.
He pulls me closer into a kiss. The pair of icy bottles resting coldly against my ass.
"Go keep the general company," I order, unwinding myself from his grip.
"I’m telling you right now he doesn’t kiss near as good," he grouses,
but he reaches back out for the guidance of the cabinetry and pads back toward the sound
of the television.
I can’t say I’m thankful for the battles but I am grateful for what we’ve
forged from their aftermath. I’m thankful for Jack, for his strength, his affection.
But if I have a prayer, it will not come. Instead, I think of the words written in the
20th Dynasty, the time of Setnakhte, the Beloved of Amun Re.
It is like a ripe pear in a man's hand.
It is like the dates we mix with wine.
It is like the seeds the baker adds to bread.
We will be together even when old age comes.
And the days in between
will be food set before us,
dates and honey, bread and wine.
~end~