Tissues
by Jennamajig

SUMMARY: That's when he saw the tissues. Dirty, wadded-up, used tissues.
SEASON/SPOILERS: Season 7. No spoilers.

NOTES: I'm watching Season 9 (which is more than I can say about season 8) and actually enjoying it (and Vala, actually - she needs to be on way more), but I still can't write Stargate fic without Jack. Thus, seventh season fluff.

DISCLAIMER: The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.

Trips to Washington were always a pain in the ass. Especially when a meeting ran way too long and changed absolutely nothing in the end, the flight was delayed, and the car rental broke down.

Therefore, Jack O'Neill wasn't exactly in the best of moods. He opened his door, plopped his suitcase down, and reveled in the idea of grabbing a beer, the local Chinese takeout menu, and Daniel, and the would sit his ass down on the couch to watch ESPN and Daniel while awaiting delivery of his combination dinner with a side of lo mein.

That's when he saw the tissues. There was a mass of them scattered the length of the coffee table, an empty tissue box on the floor. There were some on the couch, near the TV. The waste paper basket held several more, but apparently it had had its fill, because it overflowed and, a cascade of tissues creating a circle around.

Dirty, wadded-up, used tissues.

In the mist of the germ factory currently invading the living room, there were a couple of notepads filled with Daniel's illegible script.

Great. This indicated several things.

One: Daniel was a slob. Not a new concept.

Two: Daniel was working and had been on couch not too long ago and had spent a good while on it. But working at home was not Daniel's preferred workplace so...

Three: Fraiser and/or Hammond had sent him home because...

Four: Daniel was sick.

And most likely feeling like crap but not wanting to admit it, Jack mused further as he headed into the kitchen to dig a garbage bag out from under sink. Sick, working, whatever, and as much as he loved the man, he didn't need Daniel's snot all over his living room. There was no way he was eating Chinese food off that coffee table.

He returned to the living room and scooped all the tissues on the table into the garbage in one quick sweep. Then he bent down gingerly to pick up the ones from the floor.

That's when he saw green. Literally. A few of the tissues on the ground were covered in it. He didn't know which was grosser, finding green snot on your rug or knowing that said discovery meant Daniel most likely had a sinus infection.

He dropped the tissue in the bag. Daniel was sure as hell lucky he loved him. Jack O'Neill did not clean up just anyone's snotty mess.

Speaking of messes, Jack wondered if it had traveled with Daniel and where the archaeologist was. Most likely surrounded by a mountain of tissue, no doubt, but where was a different story.

Jack stood up and saw a small trail of tissue leading down the hall. Bedroom. Daniel probably conked out.

He picked up tissues on his way there, fully intending to lecture Daniel about germs and cleanliness, but instead, he found himself smiling when he opened his bedroom door.

Daniel had strewn himself across the comforter, dead to the world. He hadn't bothered to get under the covers; he seemed perfectly okay laying on top it. His glasses were still on and twisted slightly askew, and his right hand clutched a tissue like a lifeline. Next to him on the bed, were a stack of paperwork and another tissue box. Daniel was definitely sick, he was breathing noisily through his mouth. Allergies, most likely. It was that time of year.

Daniel looked all of five years old and Jack wouldn't be surprised if he found Daniel drool on the comforter.

Jack noticed something on the bedside table and walked closer. It an open package of Tylenol Sinus, but there was no sign of any of Fraiser's little pill bottles. He frowned; he'd need to give the doc a call, because something about this scenario wasn't right.

Jack perched himself on the edge of the bed and plucked the tissue from Daniel's hand. The action was rewarded by a sleepy glimpse from glassy blue eyes.

"'ack," Daniel mumbled.

Jack waved the tissue in the air. "I can cope with snot on the rug Daniel. I can even forgive the coffee table. But the bed is off limits."

Daniel blinked. "Huh?"

"Tissues, Daniel. A whole tree's worth, as it would seem. Maybe a forest's worth. Hope you bought recycled."

"Tissues?" Daniel repeated.

"Yes," Jack said, dragging the word out. Daniel was too confused for his liking. He laid a hand across the younger man's forehead. Warm. Oh yeah, sinus infection.

Daniel reached a hand up and hit his glasses, but finally his brain appeared to be running again. He pushed himself up on his elbows.

"Oh, tissues," he said sheepishly, "Sorry, Jack."

"Garbage cans were created for a reason."

Daniel gave him a mock pout. "But it was on the other side of the room."

"That's no excuse. And don't tell me you don't have good aim, Daniel Jackson, because you'd be a dirty liar. I've seen you throw rocks. Now where are your pills?"

"Um, pills?" Daniel asked.

"Yes, pills," Jack repeated and watched as Daniel's gaze went straight to the blanket. "Oh for crying out loud..." He threw his hands in the air. "There are no pills, are they? Allergy meds? Didn't Fraiser send you home with anything?"

"What makes you think Janet sent me home? I could have come home on my own," Daniel defended.

"Right. And the Gou'ld could suddenly wake one morning and decide that they don't need to take over the galaxy." Daniel spent long hours at the SGC, especially whenever Jack was out of town. "So since Hammond hasn't been informed about that particular newsflash, I'm betting Fraiser pilled you and sent you home. So where are said meds? Because you definitely have a sinus infection going on."

"Sinus infection? No way. I have allergies. The old stuff just isn't working anymore."

"Allergies that turned into a sinus infection because someone didn't take their medication for probably, oh, the last two days."

"Someone's been getting lessons from Janet or a medical degree is his spare time. Because last time I checked I lived with a Colonel Jack O'Neill. You seen him? Tall, grey hair, likes hockey and hates clichés?"

"Daniel."

"Jack."

"I'll call Fraiser."

Daniel sighed. "I left the pills at the SGC. Janet told me if she saw me back there this week, she'd stick me in an infirmary bed."

"So you didn't go back and get your meds?"

"No. I went to CVS and brought tissues and Tylenol."

"Oh, you definitely bought tissues. The whole store, according to the couch." He walked over the bedside table. "And Tylenol Sinus, I see. It's not working."

Daniel sighed and sniffed. "I know. I can't breathe through my nose and my head and throat are killing me."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Do my ears deceive me? Or do you just admit you feel like crap?"

Daniel released his locked elbows and flopped on the bed. "I feel too yucky to come up with response to that."

"Yucky? Did I just hear an almost thirty-eight year old man - a linguist, in fact - use the word yucky?"

"You'll also hear him use the words 'fuck off' if you don't stop."

Jack smiled. "Tsk, tsk, Dr. Jackson. Such a dirty mouth." He sat back down on the bed next to Daniel and ran his fingers lightly through the archaeologist's hair. "You have a fever. You're going to need to see Fraiser again. Tell her about the meds."

Another sigh, deeper this time. "Do I really need to tell her about the meds?"

"Do you really think she won't be able to figure it out on her own?"

"Good point." Daniel closed his eyes. "How was Washington?"

"Boring as hell. Flight was late. Rental car broke down. Davis talked to damn much and said nothing I or the president doesn't already know. Oh, and a four-year-old threw up right outside my hotel room."

"Eww. Sounds like fun."

Jack moved his fingers out of the Daniel's hair to trace his thumb across Daniel's warm forehead.

"Yep, loads of fun. I did get bumped up to first class on the way back, though."

"Mmm," Daniel responded, leaning into Jack's hand. "First class. Champagne, real silverware, and chocolate chip cookies."

"Yeah. I missed you," Jack told him. He did. Pay-per-view just didn't cut it and he'd take a sick, nasally, talks-to-much archaeologist over Davis any day. Even if that archaeologist left snot all over his coffee table.

"Missed you, too," Daniel agreed.

"We need to call Fraiser." He was enjoying sitting there, but Daniel was still too warm for his liking.

"Now? I'm tired."

"Yes, now. And we'll actually remember to get your pills this time." He leaned over Daniel and Daniel cracked open his eyes.

"And tissues. We need more tissues."

Jack laughed. "If CVS has any left, we'll get tissues. But, Daniel?"

"Yes?"

"They go in the trash this time."

Tissues, snot, sick archaeologists and all, it still beat the hell out of Washington each day of the week.

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