Tired™

Also, anybody commenting "Why is her hair greasy. She needs to wash her hair" needs to step outside the house like atleast once in their life. Girl just won a fencing competition and she was wearing one of these 👇 the whole time

are one of the greatest things

we have in the world

“and what if i loved you? i think i could. i might.”

it feels tremendous. it feels insignificant. it feels dissociated, existent only in another world because in this one, daniel died. he died and then he didn’t. but he was dying and his brain stopped and now the migraine won’t stop and he can’t really move, so what does it matter that jack aches for him. longs for him. feels physically sick being around him but worse, so much worse still when he’s not.

what does it matter, all this fear, all this knowledge that they might not survive that, when they barely survive anyway?

“i don’t think i could take that,” comes daniel’s reply, just as faraway, just as inconsequential.

jack knows it’s dangerous, this nihilistic feeling, but he has the excuse of coming down from opiates, he has the excuse of neurotransmitters being inhibited, he knows impulsivity and lack of emotion are at least pathological right now.

“i don’t think i’d want it. much less understand it.”

“okay. yeah. that’s fair, i guess. but maybe i’m wrong. i might be. but here’s the facts. take them and tell me what you make of them.” even though daniel’s not looking at him, he lifts his fingers and counts them off. “you make me angry. you make me lose control. i can’t stop thinking about you and when i say i want to save the world and all of mankind, you’re top on that list. sometimes you and carter and teal’c are the only ones on that list, and sometimes when it’s bad, when it’s real bad, it’s only you. because i know you’d still… be there when i fail. you’d accept it and you wouldn’t. you wouldn’t believe that i failed, and trust me to have given it my all. there’s no one i know who would do that. i want you safe. i want you calm and smiling and happy. i want you… i want you. back on my team, back with me, just… around, i guess. i want to ask you for forgiveness for so, so many things because i got it all wrong. and this is arguably the wrongest of all but it feels right. for once in my goddamn life, danny.”

“stop,” comes daniel’s weak reply. he hasn’t moved at all, still prone on the floor, one arm across his face, looking downright miserable. feeling it, too, probably. way for jack o’neill to go and ruin a perfectly horrible day. “please.”

“i’ve stopped.”

“good. now take it back.”

jack snorts, his eyes never leaving daniel’s form even as he leans his head against the wall behind him. he pulls up one knee and rests his arm on it. if anyone were here to witness them, they’d mistake the situation. they’d think daniel is the one with the racing heart of vulnerable confession and jack the one waiting him out with patient confusion, rejection sharp on his tongue.

“not gonna change a thing, danny.”

“don’t call me that.”

“sorry.”

“just…” daniel trails off. jack swallows. the veins in daniel’s forearm and hand are more pronounced, the blood-flow increased by gravity from the way he has draped his arm over his eyes. jack focuses on those hands. he’s gotten quite good at that lately.

“you’re not supposed to be angry.”

it catches jack off guard and he has to blink out of his vein-induced reverie with a frown. “huh?”

“you make me angry, you said. it’s not… it isn’t supposed to be like that.”

jack finds himself smiling at that, though he doesn’t feel amusement or fondness or any of the good stuff. he finds only bitterness.

Malta and lord Golden, Myblack and Fitz.