AN: I took ages, I know, but these chapters seem to a slow boil sort of thing. It's a Crockpot fic!

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Fred3

In which Daniel is informed of something he was previously (and dorkily) unaware of, is also teased by Jack, and remains suffering from allergies.

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"No amount of time can erase the memory of a good cat, and no amount of masking tape can ever totally remove his fur from your couch."

– Leo Dworken –

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Daniel Jackson was a knowledgeable sort of person (double doctorates will do that to you). However, even his kind of knowledge was sometimes stretched when it came to two certain people. How the evident attraction between two of his best friends managed to by pass him for so long was a mystery to him.

Although evidently not to Teal'c.

"Seriously?" he said as the two of them drove to Jack's for Team Night.

"You have never noticed this before, DanielJackson?"

"Um, no. Since when?"

"I believe they both became aware of the feelings between them some months after the Edoran incident."

"So…what, around May? Last year?"

"Yes."

"And they've sat on it since then?"

"O'Neill and MajorCarter are both noble warriors, DanielJackson. They respect each other a great deal as well as the rules and regulations of the military they both serve."

Of course. The frat regs.

"Even though they're crappy regulations?"

A slight smile turned up the corners of Teal's mouth.

"Indeed."

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-Three days later-

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There was a thick, wet snort from Jack's doorway, followed by a rip-roaring sneeze.

"Hi Danny," Jack said without looking up from his report.

"Hi," and close on the heels of that, the sound of a tissue being tortured. With snot.

Jack cringed and peered cautiously at the archaeologist. "Still, with the allergies?"

Daniel hacked. "Yup." Only it came out, "gup."

"And you're sure it's not, y'know, Fred?"

Jack had now been a cat-owner for five days. For those five days Fred had accompanied him to work and spent much of her time there either hanging out with Jack in his office while he slogged over reports, or being minded by Doctor Marsh in the veterinary labs, or by Carter in her personal lab or by Teal'c while Teal'c did whatever it was that Teal'c did with his time apart from training, meditating or soaking up Earth culture. She had even spent one memorable day with General Hammond.

Never again.

The General was reputedly still trying to get the smell of regurgitated fish out of his inbox.

Jack cast a furtive look over his shoulder at the grey bundle napping in a nest of discarded pillow cases on the bottom shelf of his bookcase. Such a tiny thing to cause such disaster…

Daniel sneezed again.

Jack threw his hands up. "Okay, seriously! Are you sure it's not my cat?"

Daniel looked thoughtful. "I could be allergic to you," he ventured.

Jack gave him a flat look.

"Or not…" The linguist shrugged. "It's the season," he muttered, "spring, flowers, pollen…"

"…starry eyed lovers," Jack added.

Daniel eyed him oddly over his wad of tissues.

"How's Ashleigh?"

This time it was Daniel who threw his hands up. Jack dodged a flying snot-rag.

"For god sakes, Jack! She's just a friend!"

He rather ruined the statement by blushing the colour of raspberry sorbet. Jack thought of the new ice cream place three blocks over and vaguely wondered what Carter was doing this Saturday.

Focus.

Jack put a politely enquiring look on his face. "And by friend you mean someone you see most days at lunch…"

"Sure."

"Someone you enjoy spending time with…"

"Yeah."

"Someone you see outside of work hours…"

"Occasionally."

"Someone you've been to dinner with…"

"Um, yes?"

"Someone you've contemplated naked…"

"A little…wait – what – NO!"

Jack cackled.

"To quote Cassie Fraiser, 'Oh snap, Daniel!'"

Before the linguist could respond (probably violently) there was a soft grumble from Jack's bookshelf and Fred lifted her downy head to look at him.

"Hey little lady."

He lifted her onto the desk, put her on her back and tried to rub her belly. Like all kittens she was rambunctious after her recent nap, and soon he was having a one-handed play fight with her. She chewed his fingers and kicked his palm with her bunched hind legs and practiced her growls, fuzzy tail lashing furiously back and forth and sending loose paper clips flying in every direction.

Argument forgotten, Daniel settled in the chair opposite, rested his chin on his folded arms and watched Fred kick loose from Jack's hand and begin exploring the topography of his desk. She chew on the edge of files, bounded after a pen Jack dragged across his blotter pad for her, and finally went over to Daniel, patting his nose in an effort to get him to play.

He grinned and blew in her face, sending her whiskers fluttering and making her pull faces. She pranced back, evidently delighted, charged him and swatted at his hair.

Daniel capitulated by sitting up and rubbing her ears.

"So," said the esteemed double doctorate, with the air of someone dropping a bombshell to see what will happen, "if Ashleigh is just my 'friend'…what does that make Sam to you?"

The air froze in the office. Jack felt it leave his lungs in and air-con cool rush.

"Daniel," he said, very softly, "this is not a conversation we can have."

Daniel sighed, still rubbing Fred's ears. She put one little white foot on his knuckles and purred. "I know. Not here anyway. It's too dangerous."

Career-wise anyway.

Jack nodded. "For both of us."

They both knew he wasn't referring to Fred.

They settled into a comfortable silence, simply watching Fred explore and get into various manageable disasters.

Cats, Jack decided, were like small children and archaeologists; timewasters. You could watch them tumble about and get into trouble for hours and not be bored. Speaking of archaeologists…

How, exactly, had Danny figured him out? Daniel, as a rule, was sensitive to every other emotional conflict except that one – despite being the guy that stumbled into the alternate reality that had probably sparked the whole debacle in their timeline.

Not that he'd let on, but after that he'd certainly started noticing her more. She was hard to miss in any case, but this was different. She was under his skin now, in his blood, aching in his bones. Some days he wasn't sure it was a good ache, but he's miss it if it was gone…

Daniel made a sound that could roughly be described as a snerk.

Fred hissed and leapt into Jack's lap before frantically making a break for his shoulder, claws extended the whole way up.

Jack sighed.

He reached up and began disentangling the kit from his BDU's.

"So," he said, "lunch?"

---

The adaptive capacity of the SGC staff was phenomenal.

Within five days, gossip had spread sufficiently that the entire base was aware of their 2IC's new status as a cat-owner and were taking necessary measures to ensure it continued.

Jack was unsure why, but Daniel's pet (ha-ha, geddit?) theory was that they were hoping to soften him up.

Jack was nonplussed.

"…do I need softening up?"

"I shouldn't think so, Sir," said Carter, appearing straight out of nowhere and causing Jack's stomach to happily double-knot. On his shoulder, Fred began purring.

It occurred to him, rather abruptly, that it was a little odd for the 2IC of a classified military base to have a small cat on his shoulder (or in his pocket for that matter).

Moments later, it also occurred to him that this was the SGC. Odd things happened here, and thusly, people who were perhaps a little odd themselves were required to deal with said odd things. In this case, the old adage could be altered to 'familiarity breeds competence'.

Or comprehension.

Or something.

In any case, it seemed those who were a little eccentric in someway survived longer here and got along better with the old hands…

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The old hands, of course, had ulterior motives that not even Jack was privy too. Had he been, the explosion would have levelled the mountain, or at least taken most of the top off.

Then again, perhaps he simply would have blushed and gruffly gone off to fish in his fish-free pond.

The point being, that as he sat down in the commissary, shoulder to shoulder with a smiling Sam Carter, the little grey cat swaying on his shoulder, certain nosy people chortled and smiled knowingly at each other. Some of the dorkier ones low-fived under the table.

The nosiest of all nearly swooned when Jack turned to his 2IC and said, "So, Carter, whatcha doin' this Saturday?"

Seconds later:

"Danny, you okay?"

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AN2: Giving unsuspecting characters small felines is fun. Especially if they're not really cat people to begin with. I'm thinking, once I'm (eventually) finished with this fic, that I should do it to some other poor schmuck. How does everyone feel about Dean Winchester?