NOTES
Written as part of the Great Shack Challenge of 2001. If you
haven't checked out the main page for this yet (101
Ways to Wind Up in a Canadian Shack), do! It has 30 authors in
62 fandoms, and I guarantee there are fandoms you never dreamed of there,
as well as some of your favorites. They're short (500-600 words), and
they're good. These eight were my contribution.
All of my shacks are collected here.
written December 2001; posted December 31, 2001
"You told me you like fishing."
"Yes, I did," Daniel said, eyes on his notes.
"And yet, I ask you to join me for a long weekend of fishing at this perfect little place I found -- with great effort, may I add -- and you look at me like I have six heads."
"Jack." Daniel leaned back in his chair. "I will be happy to go fishing with you -- between May and October. Fishing in February, in Canada, is not my idea of a good time."
"What if I gave you an archaeological reason?"
Daniel blinked. "To go fishing?"
"Yep."
"What?"
"Come with me, and you can see for yourself."
Daniel looked at Jack, standing there with hope blazing out of him. He sighed. "Okay, I'm in. But I'm warning you, if I'm bored, or if I fall into a lake and freeze to death, you are never hearing the end of this."
Jack beamed at him. "You're gonna love this," he promised, rubbing his hands together as he turned to leave.
Daniel shook his head and went back to work.
"Okay, give," Daniel said, closing the cabinet as he put the last of the supplies away. "We're here, we're unpacked, and there's at least an hour of daylight left. What's the great archaeological reason to go fishing?" He crossed his arms and stared at Jack.
Jack winked. "C'mon, I'll show you."
About a hundred yards from the lakeshore, Jack stopped near some tumbled rocks. "Here," he said.
Daniel moved to his side and looked where Jack was pointing, then dropped to a crouch to peer more closely. "Petroglyphs!" He twisted to stare up at Jack, who beamed.
"Cool, huh?"
"Very cool," Daniel admitted, smiling. He stood up. "It's getting too dark now, though. Let's go back."
Jack nodded, and they walked back and into the welcome warmth of the tiny cabin.
A couple of hours later, replete and sleepy, Daniel lay in his sleeping bag in front of the fire, staring into the flames. Jack dropped his bag on the floor next to him, settling cross-legged near Daniel's head.
The silence was comfortable and familiar, part of the pattern that made up their lives, and Daniel's eyes started to drift shut. A hand brushed his face as Jack removed his glasses, then he felt the faintest pressure on his head when Jack stroked his hair once. Daniel relaxed more, not questioning the warmth that flooded him.
Then he heard Jack's quiet sigh as he slid into his own sleeping bag.
Daniel's eyes opened. He stared into the fire as he listened to Jack rustling into a comfortable position, and thought. About familiarity, and comfort, and patterns. About how connected he felt to Jack by one simple, barely felt touch. About Jack beaming as he showed off petroglyphs half-buried in snow.
Daniel turned his head, watching the firelight playing across Jack's face. Slowly, he reached across the few inches that separated them, and rested his hand lightly on Jack's cheek.
Jack opened his eyes and looked at him, gaze steady and quiet. "Daniel?"
"Just..." Daniel shook his head, letting his eyes trace the lines of Jack's face, letting his fingers follow. Jack stayed still under the exploration, eyes still quiet but starting to brighten.
"Daniel?" he repeated, gently.
"Sometimes," Daniel said, ruefully, "I'm an idiot."
Jack smiled, and lightly kissed Daniel's fingers as they ghosted across his lips. "That's okay. Just leave the thinking to me."
Daniel laughed. "Deal," he agreed, and leaned closer.
Jack met him halfway, like Daniel knew he would.
(594 words)
~ fin ~
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