My fridge is full, the snow the weatherman has been predicting all day has just started falling, the fire in the hearth is roaring, there's a hockey game on TV and a relaxed Daniel on my couch. Damn, life doesn't get any better than this.

He looks up from the book his nose was buried in and smiles. I smile back. His smile deepens and I'm gifted with the dimple he usually keeps hidden. Suddenly I don't care if my hockey team is trailing by one and their best player has received a three minute penalty for high sticking.

Daniel clears his throat, readjusts his position on the couch, pushes up his glasses and goes back to his book, leaving me high, dry and bereft. I hiss out my annoyance and force my attention back to the screen.

Just as my team takes the lead, Daniel puts the book down and stretches until the bones in his shoulders and neck crack. He stands, stretches again then walks into the kitchen. I watch hockey with my eyes but listen to the movement in the kitchen using my finely tuned senses to figure out what Daniel's going to return with.

I was right on the money about the glass of wine for himself and the bottle of beer for me, though I do have to admit that his nakedness has taken me a bit by surprise.

I gesture at his naked body as he stands before me. "Silly me," I say, reaching for the beer, "I was getting worried, thinking that something happened to you."

Daniel takes a sip of wine and contemplates my words. "In your kitchen? What could possibly happen to me...?"

I raise my eyebrows, giving him my patented 'you're kidding' look and he answers with a sigh and a slight nod of his head. Neither one of us mentions the scar from the stitches which hides under his chin, a trophy from last year when he fell in my kitchen, slipping on a spot of oil that I had missed. The reason the oil was on the floor in the first place definitely falls under the category of 'don't ask, don't tell'.

He uses the wine glass to hide a yawn.

"Oh, tired?" I ask innocently.

"Maybe I'll go lie down." He swirls the wine in the glass, finishes it then slowly licks his lips. "You finish watching your game, I'll find some way to entertain myself..."

"Just in case you can't fall asleep right way."

"Yeah, just in case."

I flick off the TV, down my beer and I'm on his naked six before he's ten feet down the hall. Daniel turns around to face me and begins to walk backwards. "Whatsa matter? Game over?"

"No." I reach out and slide my finger down his chest. "I believe the game is just beginning."

He opens his mouth to speak but his thought is caught short by the ringing of a cell phone. We both stop and listen.

"Yours. Answer it," he orders.

"No," I whine.

"Yes. Otherwise whoever it is will keep calling until they interrupt us at a time that's more inopportune than this."

"Crap." I hate when he's right and I backtrack to the shelf, scoop up my cell and flip it open. "O'Neill." I scrub my fingers though my hair. My grey hair. My hair that didn't used to be this color. "Hi, mom."

Wide eyed, Daniel steps closer to me. "Rose?"

I give Daniel a curt nod. "Everything okay?" I pause, and exhale slowly. "Yeah, everything's good here."

"She okay?" Daniel whispers.

'Yes', I mouth.

I touch his bicep, feeling the goose bumps under my fingertips. He's cold. Between the heat and the fire the house is warm if you're dressed, not if you're stark naked and so I shoulder him in the direction of the bedroom. "No. Neither one of us are sick or injured," I assure my mother as I watch Daniel get into bed. To my consternation he doesn't get under the covers but stretches out. "Honest, mom." I roll my eyes at the woman's stubbornness. "We're here, in my house. Yes. I know they expect a large—yes 18 inches is more than a large amount of snow. No. We don't have to be in work for the next—yes, there's food in the cabinets. Fine, I'll let you talk to Daniel."

manip by Wilma

I hand him the cell and he gladly takes it, smiling hugely. "Hi, Rose." He grabs pillows from my side of the bed, shoves them behind his back and settles in. Me, I stand like a third wheel leaning against the door frame and I watch Daniel sitting on the bed. He's as naked as a jay bird, ankles crossed, one hand holding the phone, the other absently scratching his stomach and I have to admit there's something very unsettling knowing that he's talking to my mother and I'm standing here with a hard on.

"Say goodbye," I snarl.

Daniel looks up at me over the rim of his glasses and teasingly moves his hand down his stomach to fondle himself. "Jack wants to say goodnight."

I wave my arms. "No!" This is worse than the time that my mom caught me reading the *articles* in the Playboy magazine I had borrowed from Joey Flaherty.

"Yeah, me too, Rose. Ah huh." Daniel laughs, blushes a little and hands the phone to me.

"Mom," I manage to squeak out. "Okay, I'll speak—*we'll* speak to you on Sunday and let you know how we survived the storm—sorry, blizzard. Love you also." I flip the phone shut and pitch it to Daniel, who turns sideways and I miss him by a mile. Now the SOB decides is a good time to get under the covers and he tosses the phone onto the night table and slides under the blankets.

I undress and get under the blankets, hissing when he plasters his freezing body up against me.

"What are you doing?"

"Doing what Rose said I should do."

"What did my mom say you should do?" Mortified, I drop my head into the cold spot between his neck and shoulder blade.

He kisses the top of my head and rubs his body along mine. "She said I should keep you entertained and out of trouble."

"Then by all means, Doctor Jackson... do your best."