Daniel was already in the office when Jack arrived. His hands were shoved into his pockets, pacing in front of Jack's desk, behaving as if *Jack* were late. Which he wasn't. He *knew* he wasn't, he was early. Or he had been early. He couldn't help it that every Tom, Dick, Harry and Sue had stopped him on his way up to his private sanctuary.

And another thing, how come whenever Daniel stayed the night, they two of them were always late. Always. And then Daniel stopped mid-pace, stretched and rolled his tee shirt clad shoulders, and Jack's dick jumped to attention. Okay, maybe there *was* a perfectly valid reason why they were late on sleep over nights.

But that didn't stop him from being annoyed that today, Daniel had beaten him to work. That is, until Daniel stopped his pacing once again and yawned. Now Jack wasn't just annoyed, he was pissed. Beating the general to work didn't count when you goddamn *slept* at the office.

He had spoken to Daniel about this, and to Carter, that unless the base was on lockdown *or* he requested it, their butts were to be out of this mountain before midnight. And even midnight was pushing it.

Standing in the briefing room just outside the doorway, he watched Daniel pick up his nameplate, the one that sat on his desk, the one that he was extremely protective and proud of. Then the SOB had the audacity to just resume pacing as he flipped the nameplate from one hand to the other in time with his steps. Definitely time to intervene.

Jack walked into the room and plucked his nameplate out of Daniel's hands, huffed on it, then shined it on his shirt before replacing it on this desk. He stepped back, straightened it a tad, then walked around to his chair and sat, gazing up at a stunned Daniel with a smirk.

"Daniel—something I can do for you?"

Daniel smirked back and had the balls to reposition the nameplate. "Just waiting to see if you wanted to get some breakfast?"

Jack pointed at the nameplate. "I truly would appreciate if you would keep your hands off of my stuff."

Daniel canted his head, stuck his finger in his ear and vigorously moved it up and down. "I must have heard wrong. I thought you told me to keep my hands off of *your* stuff."

"That's exactly what I said." Jack rocked in the chair, loving the familiar squeak.

"You always touch my stuff, do I ever complain?"

"Every single, solitary time," Jack answered smugly.

"So," Daniel picked up the nameplate and made it do a happy dance on the desk. "This is payback?"

Angrily, Jack pointed to his desk, issuing a silent order to return the nameplate to its place of honor. "I wouldn't exactly call it payback."

Daniel snorted as he purposely turned the nameplate so the name faced Jack. "Well then, what would you call it?"

Jack leaned over the desk and made the sign face Daniel, then patted it in place.

Daniel reached to his crotch and adjusted himself. Well, that's how it would look to the camera perched in the corner of Jack's office, but Jack kinda had the feeling that he had just been bested as Daniel made an exaggerated show of pulling at his pants and touching himself again. Jack squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, setting off a round of protesting squeaks from the springs. "Daniel," he whimpered.

"You know, Jack," Daniel said, sitting down in the chair, his legs spread wide open. "Let's just call it a draw." Daniel smiled broadly as his long, dexterous fingers skimmed gently over the buttons of his fatigues. Jack was extremely glad that his back was to the camera, 'cause he certainly didn't want his hard on to be a topic of conversation with Security. "I won't touch your stuff and you don't touch mine."

Checkmate. There's was no way he was ever going to deny himself the joy of touching Daniel's *stuff* so he leaned across the desk and tossed his nameplate at Daniel, who caught it one handed.

"So I guess this means—"

Jack stood. "It means, let's go to breakfast, Daniel."

"We'll discuss this touching stuff later," Daniel agreed, stroking the nameplate seductively before returning it to the desk.

"Later." Later, like horizontal later, with no cameras, and no clothes, Jack thought as he followed Daniel out of his office. What's in a nameplate, anyways.