Of Voodoo, Mojo and Beer
by Nel

Email: nel_ani@yahoo.se
Rating: R for language
Category: Mild angst
Pairing: J/D
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Season: Set somewhere in season 7
Spoilers: *Very* vague ones for season 6
Summary: Wherein Jack is a drama queen, Sam rises in the ranks (theoretically speaking), Daniel induces paranoia and Teal’c apparently has closet issues.
Author's Notes: Nel's PissyMood!fic, brought forth on rainy days.

Thanks and smooches to Suz.



PRONUNCIATION: [click here]
NOUN: Inflected forms: pl.mo·jos or mo·joes
1. A magic charm or spell. 2. An amulet, often a small flannel bag containing one or more magic items, worn by adherents of hoodoo or voodoo. 3. Personal magnetism; charm.
ETYMOLOGY: Perhaps ultimately from Fula moco'o, medicine man.


“You know what? Fuck this, fuck you and fuck *off*!” He was pacing back and forth across the kitchen.

“Jack…” I tried my most reasonable voice, and if possible it made him look even more pissed off.

“Don’t start with me, Daniel. If our positions were reversed, you would so be pissing all over me right now.”

“But you would try talking to me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly the brightest candle. I’d have thought that you’d have more sense.” He was calming down, slowing his pacing and he no longer looked as though he was about to throttle me. Good. Progress. Now what?

Guilt was always a good start. “Mind if I sit? My leg is hurting a bit.”

“Sure,” he answered automatically, already pulling out a chair when his eyes narrowed. “You’re such a fucking manipulator.”

I sat down on the chair, actually feeling a bit relieved to get my weight off my leg for a while. “What’s this obsession with the word fuck?”

“I like it, and I’ll fucking well use it as much as I like.” Great. From scary ‘I’m-gonna-rip-your-head-off’ to petulant school boy. I think I preferred the former.

“Fine, whatever.”

Jack walked over to the fridge and got a beer. *A* beer. Yeah, I got the hint. Didn’t mean I’d leave, though. Sitting down at the opposite end of the table he uncorked it.

He stared at me coolly all the while tipping his head back and drinking the beer in long swallows. I tried not to get distracted as a drop missed and slipped down the corner of his mouth.

I mentally shook myself. Oral fixation much? It was a beer, get over it already.

I cleared my throat. “So…”

He raised an eyebrow and lowered the bottle from his mouth. It made this little popping sound as it left his mouth and, boy, were we back in oral fixation land.

I probably needed to reconcile with the fact that I should get laid, and with people other than Jack. Not that I was *getting* laid with Jack, but that was beside the point.

The sound of the bottle connecting with the table jolted me back to reality. Jack was looking at me steadily, eyebrow still raised. “Done psycho-analyzing me yet? Are you leaving? Not that it hasn’t been a *pleasure* having you here, but…”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

His lips tightened. “Christ, here we go again.”

I continued on, ignoring the warning voice at the back of my head that told me I shouldn’t keep pushing. “Sam didn’t hear anything, Teal’c didn’t *see* anything, none of the other teams did either-“

The chair Jack was sitting on screeched against the floor as he stood abruptly. “But it wasn’t their damn responsibility, was it?”

“Just because it was yours doesn’t mean you’re god.”

Jack laughed, a bitter sound. “As a matter a fact, it does.” He leaned over the table, getting right in my face. “Because when I make choices, people could end up dead.”

“But they *didn’t*.” His bitter glare was making me feel at a disadvantage; I pushed my chair back and stood to face him.

He looked away. “Yeah, well, not because of me, that’s for sure.”

“Is this what this is about?” I injected some disgust in my voice, hoping to get a rise out of him. “You’re feeling sorry for yourself?”

His eyes widened in disbelief. “Feeling sorry for myself? Daniel, I’m feeling sorry for *Teal’c*, who won’t be in action in weeks. I’m feeling sorry for Michaels who most likely won’t be in action for a *month*.”

I looked at him thoughtfully as he picked up the beer again. “This isn’t the first time something has gone wrong under your command, and hardly the worst of the occasions. Why is it different this time?”

“Just…” He stared at the bottle in his hands, looking almost mesmerized. Then he seemed to shake himself. “Just drop it, Daniel. It’s none of your business. Go home and rest that leg.”

He started walking out of the kitchen. “Jack…” Forgetting that I wasn’t exactly top-notch at the moment, I started following him without thinking about it. I went down with a yelp and a less than graceful crash, and I suddenly understood Jack’s fondness of the word ‘fuck’.

Then Jack was there, practically patting me down, looking ridiculously concerned about what was most likely a bruised ass. He pulled me to my feet, invading my space big time as he basically held me to keep my weight off my leg.

“Um, Jack,” I said into his neck, “I’m okay, just forgot there for a moment.”

His arms tightened around me for a brief moment before he stepped back. His hand was gripping my arm tightly and he looked kind of spaced out.

I started to feel alarmed. “Jack?”

“I fucked up. I sent SG-12 ahead of us into unfamiliar territory without having scoped it out properly.”

“We sent a MALP.”

“And look how much good that did us,” Jack said bitterly, looking down. Still gripping onto my arm…


“Jack, I don’t think-“

“I got sloppy. We’ve had so many quiet missions I started feeling secure and I got fucking *sloppy*.”

Suddenly it all made sense. Jack’s foul mood after the mission, fouler than usual without the usual smart ass comments. His insistence to leave base. His almost-refusal to let me into his house.

Granted, Jack wasn’t exactly Mr Open and Expressive, but he didn’t usually run.

“And you guys got hurt.” His voice was a whisper now, his hand painfully squeezing my arm. “When I saw all that blood in Carter’s hair…”

“Hey.” I put my free hand on his shoulder, squeezing the tight muscles in return. “She’s okay, we’re all okay, everything’s fine.”

“No, no they’re not.” He shook his head. “They’re not fine.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just rubbed his arm.

After a few moments Jack took a step back, releasing his hold on me. My arm felt cold where his hand had warmed it. “Ah, you know me,” he said lightly, “I’m always the drama queen.”

“Yeah, that’s you, Jack,” I watched him carefully as he walked into the living room, “always for the overly dramatic.” I followed him.

“Yep.” He sat down on the couch.

I dropped down next to him. “So…”

“So, I’ll be fine.” Jack shrugged

This was just a bit too fast of a turnaround for my liking. Jack didn’t get into a mood lightly – not that he showed, at least – and he didn’t get out of it lightly either.

Unless he’d decided on something.

“What are you planning to do?”

He hesitated, just an instance, but I noticed. “Take some temporary leave.”

I nodded. “Okay, leave is good. How long?”

He shrugged again. “A few months, maybe.”

My eyes widened. “A few… What about SG-1?”

He didn’t look at me. “Carter’s almost ready for her own command, she could use the time to get some experience with people she trusts.”

Which seemed all perfectly sound and logical. The only trouble was that Jack normally didn’t *do* sound and logical. “And when she’s gotten comfortable in the part, you’ll suggest to the General that she’ll have command of SG-1.”

He looked at me, eyes wide. “Daniel! I’m shocked! Replacing me already after I’ve only been gone for a few metaphorical months?”

I shook my head, smiling reluctantly. Touché.



I took a deep breath. “We need you. And you need us.” The words came easier than I’d expected them to.

He looked at me silently, and for a moment I could have sworn that the expression on his face was one of fondness. Then he was all business again. “That’s real nice of you to say, but no one’s irreplaceable.”

The statement hurt, all the more because of the truth of it. We would manage without Jack. Sam could command SG-1, and we’d all be fine, we’d manage fine.

I just didn’t want to manage.

“We need you to get us home,” I argued.

“You’ll get home just fine,” and the finality of the statement made me cold.

Jack really had made up his mind.

I opened my mouth to reply when I remembered something.

"Well, if he really has lost his mojo, there's nothing I can say that's gonna get it back for him."

"It's all in his head."

"If he doesn't think he's ready, he's not ready."

I sighed. Of all the times to start taking Jack’s advice…


He looked at me warily. “Fine?”

“Fine.” I picked up my jacket from the back of the couch (its customary place) and limped to the door.

“That’s it?” Jack twisted around in the couch, regarding me suspiciously.

“That’s it.” I patted my pockets for my car keys.

“What’s the catch?”

I looked up. “No catch.”

“There’s always a catch.”

“Now you’re just being paranoid.”

“No, knowing you, I’m being realistic.”

I smiled and turned to open the door. “Goodnight, Jack.”

“’Night, Daniel.”

I closed the door behind me and took a deep breath of the chilly night air. Regrouping was in order.


“So take some time off.”

Jack hadn’t seemed particularly surprised to see me as he opened his door the next evening.

He regarded me. “Nice to see you, too.” His voice was dry.

I brushed past him and threw my jacket on the back of the couch. “Take a couple of weeks, go fishing, get bored, relax.”

He closed the door, and leaned back against it, feet crossed at the ankles. “I don’t think that’ll solve my problem”

I raised my hands in frustration. “There *is* no problem. So you made a mistake. It’s not likely you’re going to make the same mistake again.” Suddenly I was mad as hell, and lowered my voice. “If you think we’re just going to let you give up, you’d better think again.”

He raised his eyebrows. “’We’?”

“You’re lucky Sam’s not here, she’d knock you on your ass for planning stuff like this and not telling her. And Teal’c would be cheering her on.”

He raised his hands in a placating manner that just pissed me off even more. Placating Jack could never be a good thing, he was meant to be a pain in the ass, damn it. “Daniel…”

“I won’t have you give up now.”

He shrugged, looking away. “Maybe it’s time.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Not when I’m back. I didn’t come back for that.”

“Daniel…” God damn him and his god damn gentle voice. He wasn’t supposed to be gentle with me, I couldn’t handle that. “Daniel, it’s time.”

I opened my eyes and he was right in front of me, way into my space again, kind of blurry around the edges. He cupped my cheek and I swallowed. “It’s time,” he said again.

And then he kissed me.

For a few seconds, I let him; let him brush his lips against mine, let him nudge my lips open with his tongue, let his tongue slide in to caress mine.

Then I shoved him back, distantly noting the surprise in his face behind the curtain of my rage. “You son of a bitch.” I started stalking towards him, forgetting about the leg again, and this time he managed to catch me before I hit the dirt. “Get *off* me,” I snarled.

“A simple ‘no’ would have worked,” he said tightly, letting go of my arm when I got my feet back under me.

“You asshole, I need your pity like a hole in the head.”

Jack stared at me, looking completely flabbergasted. “I…you...what?”

“If you’re going to resign, fine, go ahead, make the biggest mistake in your life,” and thank god I had the presence of mind to not take a dig at what he considered being the biggest mistake of his life; he wouldn’t have forgiven me for that and neither would I. “But I don’t want to be your pity fuck.”

Jack stared at me and then started to laugh, his body relaxing. I didn’t know if I was supposed to feel insulted or…yeah, insulted covered it pretty well. “You think this is funny?”

The laughter turned into a smile that made my knees feel funny. Damn leg.

“Yeah, I do.” He grinned and looked more like the Jack I was used to; confident and annoying as hell. “I think we’re funny.” He took a step closer to me. “Because when I kissed you, guess what I was thinking?” He was looking at me intently, holding my eyes with his own as he took another step. “’Damn, he’s letting me kiss him because he feels sorry for me.’”

The anger drained out of me, leaving behind the funny feeling in my knees. I had to remember to ask Janet to check the leg for me later. “So…not pity?”

His smile turned into a leer. Definitely more like himself. “Not pity.”

“Well…” I tried to find the right words. “Your timing sucks.”

“I thought we’d established that already.”

“No, we established that you’d lost your mojo and that you were being an idiot about it.”

Jack took yet another step closer and I took a step backwards (without falling), since I felt that Jack and I weren’t close enough to actually share space in such a literal sense. His lips quirked. “I lost my mojo? I didn’t know we’d established that. We *did* establish that Teal’c’s a closet cheerleader.” He paused. “And I’m not being an idiot about it.”

“I really didn’t need that image, and you are.”


“You’re taking a vacation and we’re going to talk about this kissing thing.”

One step forward for him; one step backwards for me. “I thought you’d be pleased about me resigning, since you think I’m a son of a bitch.”

One step forward; one step backwards. “I may have overreacted,” I conceded.

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“A bit.”

“Sooo…” He drawled and made me back away another step. The back of my knees hit something firm. “How are you planning on making it up to me?”

“Um… Buy you a gift?”

I sat down in the chair he’d backed me into as he leaned closer. “Nope.”

“Clean your house?”

He was leaning closer and actually stopped to consider it. “Tempting. But no.”

His face was a couple of inches from mine and closing the distance, achingly slow. I swallowed hard. “Give you back your black polo?”

He stopped, expression turning outraged. “You have that? I’ve been looking for that for months!”

“I didn’t think you’d miss it, so I-”

The kiss was much better this time. Mainly, I think, because I wasn’t about to punch him in the face. He tasted like beer and heat and I tipped my head back as his tongue teased mine.

As he drew back, I managed to draw a breath and gasp out, “Vacation.” before he had time to cover my lips with his again.

Jack froze an inch from my lips and seemed to study my face. “I don’t know if that’ll help.”

“If it doesn’t, you’re not alone. We’ll cover your back.” I tugged and pulled at him until he was sort of straddling my lap. “You’re not god. People don’t die because of your decisions. They die from staff blasts, among other things, but not because of your decisions.”

“That’s deep.”

“Thanks. I got a year of practise.”

He rested his forehead against mine. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

He snorted. “As if.”


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