Part 2 of the Saving Graces Series Go here for part 1 Part 2 of 3 of Saving Graces. Part 2 of the stand alone Saving the Last Dance. It was too much fun not to want to carry on. Thank you, Pie for a beta par excellence and constant encouragement. Thank you, AnnO and BJ for contructive comments and reassuring 'squeeing'. Thanks to Pepe for the polish.

So, nice restaurant. Italian, not too many Chianti bottles with candles in, or pictures of Michelangelo's David on the walls so I'll keep quiet. Daniel wanted Chinese, Teal'c wanted a Happy Meal and I wanted steak, but it's Carter's birthday and you don't want to see her when she's carbohydrate-deprived. It's not pretty.

It seems our disco divas have worked up a bit of an appetite. I almost got my hand chewed off when I tried to take that last slice of garlic ciabatta. The same slice that is getting the full attention of Daniel's mouth right now. He's savouring it like he hasn't just scarfed two slices already and had all the bread sticks Carter didn't get to first, not to mention most of the dish of marinated olives. He seems to have forgotten the enormous bucket of pasta he ordered, which is now approaching us in the arms of our AntonioBanderas-wannabe waiter – or maybe not. As the waiter slides Daniel's plate in front of him, he gets a broad smile in return and Daniel greets his plate with eyes of a man who hasn't just eaten his own weight in entrees.

"Grazie," Daniel sighs.

"Parli Italiano?" Antonio asks, his eyes opening wide.

"Si, un piccolo. I funzionato una volta in Toscana per un'estate come guida di giro. Da dove venite?"

"Io siete stati sopportati in Orvieto, lo conoscete?"

"Sì, sì, Orvieto è bello. Ho visitato una volta. Ha un pozzo di stupore..." Daniel pauses and blinks at me a few times. "Er, Jack," he frowns, pushing his glasses back up his nose, "could you wait until he puts the food on the table?"

I shrug at him, still sucking in the spaghetti I just forked off my plate while the boys were getting to know each other, then turn back to Antonio whose mouth is hanging open, rather unattractively. So, tall dark and smouldering, all finished catching up with MY archaeologist now, are we? Carter sniggers as I continue to slurp the Carbonara-covered pasta until, finally, with a flourish, I get to the end and it splatters sauce all up Antonio's sleeve. Shame.

"Pollo Primavera?" he asks coldly and puts a plate before Sam. "Osso Buco?" he continues and serves Teal'c at the gracious incline of his head. Mine, he just thumps down in front of me, sliding all the food to one side of the plate.

"Buon Apetit!" he says, smiling to Carter, Daniel and Teal'c and completely avoiding me.

"Possiamo avere più vino per rendere l'uomo anziano felice?" Daniel asks Antonio, giving me a glare. From the snort of laughter that comes from the Mediterranean whelp, I'm guessing that was at my expense, but it had the word vino in it, so it can't be that bad.

Daniel takes a few minutes to explain to Carter what he said to Antonio, something about him having worked in Italy one summer and knowing the city the guy came from. Carter, of course, doesn't know the full horror of Daniel going into full lecture mode. Teal'c and I remember only too well our crash course in Ancient, the same damn lesson, every day for weeks. And that last line was at my expense – bringing more wine for the old guy to make him happy. Oh, he'll have to pay... in fact that's perfect, considering all the food that he's devoured – he'll have to pay. He earns more than I do anyway!

We all dig in and a companionable silence follows for a few minutes. I notice Carter is first to the new wine bottle when it arrives and she serves herself and her dance partner first. I sneak a look at Daniel and the expression on his face is enough to stop me in my tracks. Bliss! Eyes closed, jaw working for a few moments between forkfuls placed delicately on his tongue and accepted between his soft lips.

"Good?" I croak at him.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm," he agrees, looking at me from under those lowered lashes. Vicious little shit that he is, his humming sets part of me humming along too – damn it, I though I had this under control!

Savagely, I spear some of his pasta off his plate and try it.

"Tastes like mould," I tell him.

"Truffles, Jack. Very rare, very expensive but worth the trouble." He opens those too-blue eyes innocently, but his sly smirk speaks volumes.

From the amount of blood that has just raced south, I am amazed my head hasn't deflated entirely. He's... he's... flirting! No fair! I cast around for something to say and come up with, "Fwuuuh?"

Carter, bless her regulation cotton socks, jumps in and saves me at this point. "Do you want to try some of mine, Sir?" she asks cheerfully.

I'm thinking she may be several sheets to the wind and possibly a couple of pillows and a blanket too. She is waving a fork dangerously in my direction.

"No, thank you, Carter, I don't like it. It's got those things on it," I tell her, collecting my scattered wits as I drag my attention to dodging her cutlery.

"Do you mean vegetables, O'Neill?" T asks.

"That's it. Vegetables," I agree.

"Are you certain that you will not sample it, O'Neill. I am assured that you cannot know you dislike something until you have experienced it."

I look sharply at Teal'c and he just returns my gaze mildly, I have to get him to teach me that one-day. Daniel chokes on his pricey pasta and I fill his glass for him again and pass it to him; who knew Daniel could drink so much and stay upright?

"That's right, Jack, don't knock it 'til you've tried it!" Daniel beams at me.

Man, he is SO asking for it! Payback time! "Hey, I'll try anything once," I swagger.

I snatch the chicken-loaded fork out of Carter's unsteady grasp and rip the morsel off the tines with just my teeth. I make sure the little shit is watching, and chew thoughtfully for a few moments before making a song and dance about swallowing. I'm sure it's not as pretty as when Danny-boy does it, but at least I'm not just rolling over and taking it any more... and that's an image I really don't need right now. But I think I am getting the desired effect. Daniel's eyes are wide and when I swallow, so does he, in an involuntary reflex. I hand Carter her fork back with a smug smile and then the taste hits me.

"Ew! God! Carter! What is that?" All my calm and cocky attitude is ruined as I hop up and rush off to beg Antonio for a pitcher of water, my second tonight, but this time it's not the same part of my anatomy that needs assistance.

I return to the table, knowing that they have just stopped laughing at me, but I rise above it. The rest of the meal passes companionably, Carter apologising for the fennel incident as only a drunken 2IC can – alternately shrieking with laughter, then hugely contrite. Teal'c is quietly demolishing the small Aberdeen Angus he decided on after suggesting this establishment consider introducing the Happy Meal and Daniel is refusing to catch my eye but dissolving into giggles every time Sam tries to start apologising again. I raise an eyebrow at him as he discards another empty wine bottle.

"Jack?" he asks expectantly.

"Nothing!" I reply, "but if you barf in my truck, I'm loaning you out to SG-3 on a permanent basis."

I get a scowl for that. I have an urge to stick my tongue out at him, but squash it just in time. I mean one of us has to be mature here and it certainly isn't going to be Daniel, who is getting plastered while teaching Sam to say, "My hovercraft is full of eels" in Italian. So Daniel is a dancer and a Monty Python fan, two things I didn't know about my supposed best friend; maybe I should take him out more often, who knows what else might come up. Pun not entirely unintended.

So after more espresso that a normal human could take and that I was hoping might sober our boy up somewhat, we find ourselves back out on the street. It must be getting on for midnight by now, but Carter and Daniel are still going strong and make whiney noises when I say I'm taking them home.

"But, Sir, we've got three days down time," Carter pleads. But I'm being strong, despite the pouty thing from Daniel and the whinging thing from the birthday girl. Teal'c says nothing in a stunning display of no-help-whatsoever. He merely folds his hands behind his back and walks beside me. I'm grateful that the kids quit moaning after a few minutes and fall silent as we walk back to the truck. I pass the keys to Teal'c with only a minor warning about watching my truck, before I turn to help my drunken team mates into the car and assess how close to being sick Daniel is with the skinful he must have put away tonight.

"Err... Murray?"

"Yes, O'Neill?"

"Where are the others?"

"To whom are you referring?" he asks in that tone of voice that makes me want to bang my head on something hard.

"Carter and Daniel, where are they?" I enunciate as clearly as I can. I've only had a couple of drinks, but it's been a heck of a night for surprises and I'm slightly edgy.

"I believe they have entered an establishment called Crazy Jack's in an attempt to evade a 'Colonel Curfew'."

Crazy Jack's turns out to be a bar we passed on the way to the truck and it looks like any other downtown bar in any other town in the US at midnight on a Thursday. The jukebox is churning out a list of tired rock music, it's smoky, it smells of stale beer and only the poor bastards with no place better to be remain. The only difference I can discern is that this bar has an astrophysicist teaching the barman bad words in Italian and a Doctor of Archaeology and Linguistics doing his best to get killed by the only other inhabitant of the Springs who can compete with Teal'c on the "Don't talk to me unless you want to spend lots at the Orthodontist's tomorrow" stakes. I leave Teal'c to extricate Daniel from his latest friend and steer Carter to a table, firmly ordering a round of Cokes over my shoulder at the bewildered barman.

When I get back from the john, I feel my last thread of control neatly snipped as I spy Daniel concentrating hard on trying to get quarters into the jukebox without falling over, Carter 'surreptitiously' doctoring the Cokes with Bacardi and Teal'c settling down to a game of pool with the guy Daniel was talking to, whose name, a giggling 2IC tells me, is Skank.

"Are you sure that's not Hank?" I ask her, slumping into my chair.

"No, Skank! It says it on his forehead," she hoots. I look – she's right. I drink the doctored Coke. In one.

Sam remembers a word she hasn't taught the poor barman and skips off to further broaden his horizons just as Danny-boy arrives at the table in a smiley heap. I mean, he's not the most co-ordinated guy at the best of times, unless he's strutting his stuff apparently, but when he's inebriated, well, frog in a blender doesn't really do it justice.

"Hey Jack," he beams. "Having fun?"

I wave an imaginary flag, which has him snickering; his nose all scrunched up and cute-looking. I groan inwardly; since when did I find a drunken, giggly Daniel cute? I will admit that I love the guy, how can you not? He's honest, brave to the point of abject stupidity, committed, hardworking and eager to please... on his terms, he is also pissy, over-educated, cranky in the mornings and male. Did I mention male? Because it sure is a sticking point for me.

Looking at guys in that way is something I gave up a long time ago to pursue my dream of flying. I can do discipline and liking my bed partners to have curves is a discipline that became a habit, even a pleasure. But Daniel changed all that. Dragged from retirement and a date with my handgun to meet this geeky, brilliant, infuriating, insightful man, he had me off balance from the second he said he knew how to get us back from Abydos. It turned out to be an "economy of truth" as he later put it. He had no idea what to expect, but he knew he was the man most likely to figure it out and by that time we were friends and I was dead meat.

I won't say I missed him, the year he was on the other side of the galaxy. He crossed my mind from time to time and I was pleased to see him, despite my acting out when we gated back to Abydos. But the anticipation of getting to know him better all went to hell within hours as his wife and brother-in-law were snatched. That was the catalyst for the last four years of our lives. And in that time Daniel has been a constant in my life, our friendship never simple but always easy. We've faced some shit together, this odd connection between us compelling us to stay close, knowing that is what keeps us strong enough to carry on. We trip merrily from one place to the next, one problem to another, never pausing to analyse our bond or contemplate what it means. And that is how we got this far; a watched pot never boils, so we don't watch. There sure is a hell of a lot of steam in here tonight though.

I look across at Daniel and just for a moment I catch a glimpse of the shining intellect behind those dilated pupils before he gives me a sappy grin and rests his cheek in his hand to look around the bar. Suddenly he sits upright as the jukebox changes tracks.

"My song!" he yelps and brings the full force of his azure gaze to bear on me. Oh no! Crap! No, no, no, no, no!

"Dance with me, Jack!" he begs. He throws himself off his chair with a whoop that is abruptly cut off when he stumbles and disappears under the table. Casting a long suffering look around the bar to anyone interested, I get up and move round to where the boy was last seen, put my hands on my knees and stoop slightly. Suddenly I am knocked backwards and smothered in 180lb of prime archaeologist. His arms are twined around my neck, his head on my shoulder and he's swaying before I can catch my breath.

The thing about dancing with someone who is almost the same height as you, and it's not something I've ever really had to think about before, is that being of a similar height all the points of contact on their body sort of line up with all the points of contact on yours. So quite apart from having the air knocked from my lungs, I am struggling with the reality that I have a nose full of soft brown hair, his chest and belly pressed against mine, his thighs brushing against my thighs every time he moves and the insistent bulge at the level of my groin must be his... and whatever it is, it's getting bigger!

I think my brain must have switched off for a few minutes because I just stand there, attached to my team linguist-turned-limpet and let him sway me back and forth to the strains of an old Springsteen number. He sighs and wriggles a little closer, sticking his nose against my neck and gusting warm breaths through my shirt and straight onto skin that is suddenly burning. I bring my arms to settle gently around his waist. I inhale deeply into the silky, short hair that tickles my cheek and under the salty smell of a dance sweat and the bitterness of the cigarette smoke I can smell Daniel: his bergamot shampoo, the clinging scent of all the coffee he gets through in a day and a warmth of skin that spikes straight to my groin making me groan a little.

I know I should be thinking fast right now. I should be finding a way to get out of Daniel's arms and finding a joke to explain away the fact that I'm more than aware of his obvious arousal. He must know this is dangerous. I should be gently but firmly letting him go, letting him know that I'm not interested and that he's drunk and his come-ons are something I'm going to be ribbing him about privately for months to come. But I can't... and God help me I don't want to. I have never felt so safe in my life, so free and yet so protected. I just want to stay here forever, in the arms of my drunk, horny best friend, no sobering up and realising what he's done, no court martial, no judgemental society, just this. But I know that can never happen.

"Daniel," I murmur, taking one last lungful of his scent as I rub his back. "I think it's time you went home, buddy." I take hold of his shoulders and gently try to push him away from me. He growls and hangs on tighter still. My balls tighten at the needy sound.

"Daniel!" I say louder. He has to let go right now, or I'm lost. His head bobs up and I'm eye to eye with the sharpest, most forthright gaze I've ever seen, like he's got a window right into my soul and I'm laid bare. He looks at me for an endless moment, then his eyes sort of lose focus and he smiles an enormous soppy smile.

"J'ck," he beams, like he hasn't seen me in days.

"Yeah, buddy!" I agree patiently. "Good old Jack. Taking you home now, Danny-boy."

"Stay over at your place?" he asks.

Fuck, no!

"Errrr, not tonight, Daniel. Not a good time," I tell him. Too much is going on in my head and my jeans. I can't trust myself to be around him any longer tonight. He looks like he's about to argue when we are tackled from behind.

"Group Huuuuuuuuuuuuggggggg!" Carter shrieks into the back of my skull as she squeezes the air out of my lungs again with her deceptively powerful arms around my waist. Daniel's eyes sparkle as he tightens his grip again on my neck.

"Carter... Carter, get off!" I shout, but she's feeling no pain. I'm considering kicking her shins when more massive arms enfold my head as Teal'c expresses his appreciation of all things SG-1 in a new and exciting Tau'ri manner. I stand there having the crap hugged out of me by the people I love most in this or any other world and thinking things can't get any worse, when my face gets up close and personal with a sweaty male armpit; Skank is feeling the love.

To say the drive home is uncomfortable would be inaccurate. Only I'm uncomfortable. Teal'c drives, ignoring my pathetic attempts to 'help' him from the back seat with useful pointers about my beloved truck. Carter, after having claimed the front seat in a sneaky end run manoeuvre, occupies herself with my CD and radio. Daniel decides that he wants to sing along to the songs Carter's playing; unfortunately he wants to sing them while slumped on my shoulder getting all snugly. Hence my discomfort. Nice, big, roomy back seat in my truck and me squashed into the door, covered in linguist! He managed to get himself out of his belt on the other side of the car, where I put him and buckled into the middle one while I was walking round to get in. I don't even realise until the grin – the one with the screwed up nose and crinkly eyes - looms up at me and starts singing 'It's Raining Men'.

I'm so involved in ignoring Daniel's crooning in my ear and his warm, solid weight tucked up against me, not to mention his hand rubbing circles on my thigh, that I'm shocked to find Teal'c pulling up in my drive.

"Won't you need me to help you get Daniel to bed, T? We should swing by his place first," I tell my massive friend. At this point the dead weight on my shoulder digs out another of his miraculous recoveries and releases himself from the belt, scooting out of the car and up the path to my house, blowing birthday kisses at Carter and waving merrily at T.

"Danieljackson directed me to bring him here. He informed me he wished to sleep at 'your place' tonight, O'Neill," Teal'c intones, eyeing me implacably in the rear-view mirror. I really need to get a copy of 'Jaffa for Dummies' because I can't tell if he's dissing me or not – even after all this time. "Should you not be attending to him? He appears to be knocking on your front door... with his head."

"Fine," I snap. I'm too tired to fight and if I don't do something about the situation in my Levis I'm going to have permanent damage to part of me I prefer... undamaged. So I guess I'll have to dump Daniel in the spare bed and have myself a cosy evening with my right hand. Life sucks.

"I will return tomorrow with your truck, O'Neill," Teal'c tells me as I begin the hobble up to my path; it is a measure of how distracted I am that I just wave him off.

Daniel has his forehead against my front door and I have to gently topple him and accept his weight to get my key in the door.

"I love you, J'ck," he declares wetly onto my neck. "Always have."

"Backatcha," I murmur as the door swings open and we stagger into the hall. I prop Daniel against the opposite wall and return to close and lock the door. I watch Teal'c carefully reverse my baby back out of the drive, slowly and reverently, then, with a grin the size of an aircraft hangar, he floors it and spins the wheels before screeching off down the road in a cloud of vaporised rubber and the strains of "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun". I briefly close my eyes and from behind me comes the sound of a thump and a muffled ouch as Daniel rediscovers gravity. It's gonna be a long night.

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