Disclaimer: Insert standard "I own nothing" speech here.

A/N: FLUFF WARNING. This is major S/J fluff. It's cotton ball fluffy. It's cotton candy fluffy. It's little fluffy kitty fluffy. Set in season eight, and reflecting what I wish to happen.

Talking

Brightman had found the cause, but too late. It was a contagion SG-11 brought back from P3X-5JY. It took quite a while to realize there was a problem since the physical symptoms were so mild. It began with a low-grade temperature and progressed to dizziness, but the worst of it was not immediately recognizable as medical in origin. The virus gave you a severe case of logorrhea.

All over the base, people couldn't stop talking. In the beginning, they thought McGinty, Darwin, and Joyner - the first affected - were drunk. They were spilling secrets left and right. But as the contagious nature of the problem became apparent, General O'Neill had immediately ordered the base on lockdown, lest the staff of the SGC go announce to the world at large what went on under the mountain and through the 'gate, (to Grandmother's house we go).

The General's next matter of concern was not getting infected himself. Despite the high-level clearance held by most of the SGC staff, there were still many things in his past that no one needed to know. He locked himself in his office, and only communicated by phone. Unfortunately, the incubation period of the contagion was long enough that he found he was already infected. He discovered this at the end of a long telephone conversation with Dr. Brightman, during which he'd ended up telling her every way in which she was unlike Dr. Frasier.

There was a knock on the General's door. "Go away!" he yelled. "I'm not talking to anyone, because I can't stop talking, and if I can't stop talking I might say something I shouldn't say. So go away and call me on the phone and then I'll talk to you, because at least I can hang up if I find myself running on at the mouth." Jack stopped yelling, but continued to mutter to himself.

"Jack, it's me, Daniel. I need to talk to you. I really do, so can I please come in? I promise I'll be talking too much for you to possibly say something that you shouldn't."

"Well, Daniel, when you put it like that, I can't see why not. I have to say that's very logical. You always drone on and on. Who better to talk to? I'll never get a word in edgewise." He opened the door and let Daniel in.

"That is so not flattering, Jack. But then, you seldom are flattering, are you? It's a rare occasion when you actually say something nice to someone. You're just cranky. Of course, you have good reasons to be cranky. You have a very stressful job now. And the woman you love is marrying someone else."

"Daniel, what did you want to talk to me about?" Jack asked with a great deal of restraint. His brain was ready to pick up that line of thought so his mouth could run with it. There was no one he could talk to about his feelings for Sam, and sometimes that burden was too much. He'd better get Daniel back on topic quick.

"That is what I wanted to talk to you about." Jack was incredulous as Daniel began to ramble on. "Jack, you really have to do something about this situation. It's making you miserable, and despite what Sam says, I don't think she's happy either. This guy Pete, well, he's really creepy, don't you think?"

"I thought you liked him," Jack interjected, helpless to stop himself.

"I tried to like him for Sam's sake. And he did help Sam find me when I was kidnapped by the NID. Thanks for not shooting me, by the way; I know it was really stupid not to tell you where I was going when they contacted me. I was really afraid of what you were going to do to me when I got back. I was tempted to tell them to take me with them. You can be pretty frightening, you know. I tried to get away from them, but they had snipers. Tragic, really -- a waste of perfectly good coffee."

Jack celebrated this accidental change of topic and tried to think of a way to carry on with it, but his brain was still stuck on Sam. "Carter makes the worst coffee, doesn't she? It's almost undrinkable, but of course, we drink it anyway. You, because you are a coffee addict, and me, because I don't want to hurt her feelings. Also, because it is nice to know there is something she doesn't do well. Other than that, she's pretty much perfect."

"See?" Daniel interrupted, much to Jack's relief. Talking about feelings was always uncomfortable for him, but being unable to stop talking about them was worse. Daniel continued, "That's just what I mean. You love her so much, you don't even see how incredibly flawed she is. She's been toying with your heart for years. I know she didn't mean any harm, but still, she's hurt you. And she's very arrogant about her intelligence. But that's not the worst of it. Have you seen her wardrobe outside of work? She needs a style makeover, my friend. It's time to call in Stacy and Clinton."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Stacy and Clinton. They're fashion stylists on this show..."

"I know that. I meant the other thing."

"You know that? You watch What Not to Wear?"

Jack growled in frustration. "Brightman had better find a cure for this quickly. I never should have let you in here. And only because Stacy is hot. But what the hell are you talking about, she's been toying with my heart for years? That's ridiculous. Carter's been nothing but professional."

"That's not true! You just can't see it. She's always kept things just personal enough between the two of you to keep you hanging on. Is it professional for her to always run to you for comfort? To allow so much physical contact between the two of you? And she's flirted with you since day one. Haven't you noticed she doesn't look or smile at anyone else the same way she does at you? I'm not saying she's using you. I know she really loves you. But she's been extremely unfair to you, Jack."

"That's crap, Daniel. I could just as easily have put a stop to all those things, but I was selfish. I wanted her attention; I wanted her to care for me. I should have distanced myself. If anything, the whole situation has been unfair to her. If it weren't for me, she might be married with kids by now."

"If it weren't for misplaced priorities, you might have kids together by now. It's silly, Jack. You love her, she loves you, and don't tell me about any stupid regulations. If you'd really wanted to, you could have dealt with that situation long ago. You are scared. Big, tough Jack O'Neill is scared to death. And you can unclench that fist right now. You know I can't stop talking, so if you hit me you're going to feel guilty as sin tomorrow. And I'm really glad you're a victim of Catholic guilt, because trust me, I don't want you to hit me again. Remember when you attacked me because you thought I was coming on to Sam, the time you had that alien virus? I've been in car accidents that had less impact. You've got one heck of punch. You'd make a good boxer. I secretly like boxing."

Jack sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face as Daniel continued to ramble. Why on Earth had he agreed to let him in? Daniel was the most touchy-feely, emotion-loving, just-this-side-of-girly guy he knew, and he should have had the sense to see where this was going to end up. Breaking this taboo was worse than spilling classified secrets. He'd rather be talking about what he did in Nicaragua.

"But that's just how I feel about it. What do you think?" Daniel asked.

"I wasn't listening to a word you said," Jack replied honestly, since he couldn't do otherwise.

"Never mind it. Why don't you just admit you are in love with Sam and you don't want to see her marry Pete? Why don't you just go say that to her? This is a good idea. Go. Go right now, Jack. No time like the present."

"Daniel, get out of my office. Please. I never should have let you in here in the first place." Daniel didn't move and Jack couldn't restrain himself from answering. "I can't do that. I've wanted to do that a thousand times, but I can't. That would be wrong. She's made her decision. And you're right, I'm scared to death. There's so much that she doesn't know about me, that no one knows about me. I'm not who people think I am."

"Things like what? Bad things you've done? We all know you've done bad things, Jack. But you're a good guy."

"No, not that. Sam's a soldier; she understands what soldiers have to do. But...no," Jack couldn't let himself say it, but he couldn't control the urge to speak. "No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no..." he continued.

Daniel laughed, and spoke loudly over Jack's chanting. "You mean 'the real Jack O'Neill.' The one who watches What Not to Wear, listens to opera, and volunteers at the children's theatre workshop?" Daniel bit back a laugh at Jack's abrupt silence and aghast expression. "We know you aren't Rambo. Though the What Not to Wear thing did come as quite a surprise."

"One you will not repeat to anyone," Jack said with a threatening glare. "You are taking advantage of my situation. You know there's no way we'd be having this discussion if it weren't for this damned virus. You came here for this express purpose."

"You make that sound like an accusation. Of course, I did. Do you think I could let an opportunity like this pass? Don't you think I've learned anything from you? You strike while the enemy is at their weakest! Not that you're my enemy. In fact, you're the closest thing to family I have. You're like a brother to me. A big, angry brother. That's why this bothers me so much, Jack. I've respected your boundaries and been quiet about it for years, but I don't like watching you suffer."

"Hah! You're making me suffer right now! This is suffering, pal! I hate talking about this stuff, even with you, and I usually secretly enjoy talking to you. Ack! Damn it, Daniel, if you won't leave I will." Jack got up and stormed out the door, muttering. Daniel just caught the words 'bratty little brother' before he was down the hall and out of hearing.