Where's the Fish?

First Published: March 29 , 2004
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jim/Jack (Crossover Sentinel/Stargate)
Word Count: 10kb

Notes: Okay - an explanation. I lost my mojo. My muse got burned out after Christmas and I couldn't write worth a damn. I decided to give it a rest for a while, maybe do some manipulations or even a drawing or two, and made the mistake of mentioning this in my lj.

So what happened? Fra issued me a writing challenge is what happened. And not just any challenge, oh no! It had to be a Jim/Jack crossover!!!

Summary: Jim and Jack go on a fishing trip. Twinkies are fried. There are no fish in the lake!

"So, Jack, you mentioned trout?" drawled Jim Ellison, casting his freshly baited line for the umpteenth time.

Jack O'Neill twitched his line and looked at the cop askance. "Yeah? So what?"

"So... where?" the cop grinned, studiously not meeting the colonels eyes.

Jack shifted uncomfortably. It was the same old story. Every time he brought someone up to his cabin in Minnesota, the trout in his lake took a vacation in an attempt to prove him a liar. He took a deep breath, letting it out in an irritated whoosh.

"They're on a break, okay?" he mumbled, twitching the line again.

Jim began reeling in his own line. He enjoyed fishing as much as the next man. This wasn't fishing. This was standing around knee deep in a freezing cold lake looking at the pretty scenery. And yeah, he admitted, the scenery did included one very attractive air force colonel.

They went way back, the colonel and the ranger, to the days of Special Ops, covert missions, where the odds were against them and the danger was real and immediate. Their relationship was one of very few words, but at the end of the day, words were not necessary to convey a need that burned inside them both. The need to connect, the need to prove they had survived again, to prove they were still alive.

Back in the day, Ellison had accepted what O'Neill had been offering. No strings, no commitment, no flowery speeches or declarations of undying love. It was just sex; rough, hard and demanding. A release, a pressure valve to stop them going insane.

Jim unhooked the bait from his hook and tossed it into the lake, then turned and waded out of the water, but Jack remained stubbornly where he was. Jim smiled and shook his head. "I'm going to make something to eat." he told his friend, as he stomped off towards the cabin.

Jack rubbed a weary hand over his face. Damn! Should have stocked up the refrigerator this time. He always assumed that he would be cooking trout for dinner, every time he came here. It was a good job he liked tinned beans and packet soup.

Half an hour later, Jack pushed open the cabin door, his face wrinkling up and the unusual smell. Propping his line up against the wall, he wandered into the cabin's tiny kitchen. "What the fuck is that smell Ellison?" he growled, leaning his hip against the counter.

Jim gave the fryer basket a little shake then pulled it out of the deep fat fryer to reveal it's contents "Dinner." He grinned, letting the Twinkies drop back into the pan.

Jack's eyebrows were in danger of achieving orbit. "Fried Twinkies?" he gaped. He knew there was no food in the fridge, but surely Ellison could come up with something better than that? The disgust on his face made Jim laugh.

"Actually, this is a bit of a delicacy where I come from, so you can wipe that look of your face flyboy. You have never lived until you've tried one of these babies." Jim tipped the basket of crispy Twinkies onto a sheet of absorbent paper and picked one up, waving it under Jack's nose.

Jack screwed up his face. "You're really going to eat that?" he asked in disbelief and at Jim's nod of affirmation, he shuddered. "How the hell do you stay so buff if you eat crap like that?"

Jim switched off the fryer and swivelled round to face his friend. A slow smile spread across his face. "Well, well colonel O'Neill, seems you still have the eye."

Jack leaned forward, resting his fingers lightly on Jim's impressive chest, eyes sparkling with devilment. "Forget it Ellison," he stated hand darting round to snag one of the Twinkies from behind Jim, "I don't do men."

"Used to," said the sentinel softly, bringing one hand up to cup Jack's face, "Remember?" His thumb was brushing Jack's jaw line gently. Jack's eyes drifted closed, then snapped open again as he made a visible effort not to succumb to Jim's charms.

Remember? How the hell could he forget, especially with the man standing barely an two inches away, looking good enough to fucking eat? It had been such a long time for Jack. Almost long enough believe it had never happened.


In the years since, he had put his past behind him, buried all the things he had done that he wasn't proud of, either acting under orders or just acting out of lust.

Jim shifted his position, taking the forgotten Twinkie from Jack's nerveless fingers. He brought the crispy treat up to his mouth, inhaling the sweet smell, his tongue snaking out to lick a trail up the length of it, eyes meeting and holding Jack's as he sucked the Twinkie into his mouth.

Jack groaned. Long time... such a long time. It would be so easy...

"Ellison, don't..."

Jim's hand deftly covered Jack's mouth, cutting off his halfhearted protest. "Don't want you thinking O'Neill, want you screaming," he growled he sound shooting right through Jack's body, slamming into his groin.

Jim released Jack's mouth, slipping his hand through the silver grey hair until it came to rest lightly on Jack's nape. Jack's mouth went dry. He couldn't drag his eyes away from the lips descending on his own, couldn't stop himself from leaning into the kiss, couldn't breath, damn it!

The kiss went from tentative, to pornographic in less time than it took for the two men to slide to the floor. This was how it had always been between them, their need was too strong to fight, and their lust too hot to deny. Light blue touch paper and stand well back.

Jack was so tired of being the strong one, the one everyone looked to for direction, in command, the leader, the colonel. With Ellison, he could let go, truly let go for the first time in more years than Jack wanted to think about. He could release command to someone else, surrender himself but in so doing, free himself.

* * *

Jim let his senses guide him. Hearing Jack's heart rate increase, he deepened the kiss, scraping his tongue over the roof of the hot wet yielding mouth beneath him. Jack O'Neill was definitely a taste worth savouring. A rush of pheromones assaulted him, making him dial back his olfactory senses or risk being overwhelmed by it. Not only did this turn Jack on; he was actively seeking closer contact. Jim gasped as a rock hard erection grazed against his own.

"Ah shit, Ellison, this is crazy," Jack growled, making no attempt to halt the rocking motion of his hips, "we don't even have any condoms or lube.."

Jim reached into the back pocket of his jeans and dropped a small foil package onto Jack's chest. Jack's eyes glittered as he raised them from the condom, to meet Jim's amused gaze.

"Okay, Mr. Boy Scout, you got some Astroglide back there too?"

Jim pushed up from the floor, one hand on either side of Jack's head and fumbled about on the counter above their heads. Jack frowned, wondering how he had missed seeing a tube of lubricant up there. The reason for that became apparent when Jim pulled down a half empty packet of Twinkies.

"Ever used the cream inside one of these babies as lube, Jack?" the sentinel leered, one eyebrow waggling suggestively. Jack groaned and lay back down on the floor. On one hand, he was too old a dog to be teaching new tricks to. On the other hand, it was just perverted enough to be appealing.

"Just, do me a favour, Ellison, no crumbs?"

Jim responded by biting the end off the Twinkie and sucking the filling out. Jack groaned again and lay down.

* * *

Jack came down off the ceiling slowly to the sensation of someone rubbing his thigh soothingly. "Hey, back with me yet?" a deep, gravely voice spoke next to his ear. Jack wasn't sure. He hadn't come that hard in years. When he finally got his eyes open, he looked up into amused blue eyes. "Hi."

"Hi." Jack croaked wondering why his voice sounded so rough. Then he remembered why and blushed. Well, Ellison had said he wanted Jack to scream. Mission accomplished.

Jim got to his feet, and Jack watched the cop's eyes search the cabin, scanning like he was threat assessing, or looking for something. Finally Jim looked down, his eyebrow raised in query.


Jack rolled onto his knees and stood up, groaning as they twinged in protest at the punishment. He was getting way too old to screw around on a hard wooden floor. He opened the cabin door and tilted his head towards the lake.

"No shower," he grinned, trying to look innocent, but knowing that it was not a look that he could carry off. "I usually just jump in the lake."

Before Jack had even finished the sentence, Ellison thundered past him and launched himself from the end of the pier. Jack heard the splash as he quietly closed the cabin door and turned towards the bathroom, muttering under his breath, "of course I only do that in the summer..."

Jack made very sure the bathroom door was locked before turning on the shower.


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