annejack: (Default)
Title: Comfort and Joy
Author: Annejack(danny)
Rated: I'd rate it gen, even tho it's def. J/D with some kissing and snuggling, but nothing in-your-face
Category: There's no such thing as doll-fic, I think (except there was some on Area52 but that's totally different) so this is it. Doll fic. DD and Dak Fic. Also Christmas fluff, bit smarmy maybe, tiny tufts of angst but not much. Team happies too.

Summary: Jack kept his feeling for Daniel under wraps for years and never intended to come out... a mission to 'Santa Planet' not only changes his mind, but will also turn the lives of both men upside down forever. Beware of aliens bearing gifts :)

Comes with manips of cute dollies, all mine. 

Read all further notes etc over at AO3  ...

Comfort and Joy

By Annejackdanny



I crack open one eye and lie totally still, listening to the distant noises coming from somewhere in the house.

The point of origin is most likely the kitchen.

Which is bad.

But I'm getting used to this, so I don't bolt out of bed to investigate what's going on right away.

Instead I glance at the clock, grab my second pillow and slam it over my face.

It's six o' friggin' clock in the morning.

On my day off.

I used to like to sleep in on my day off even if “sleeping in” only meant 8:00.

Now I'm out and about between six and seven and tearing my hair out around eight. For the first time. There's lots of tearing of hair recently. And counting to ten. And the need for a stiff drink in the evenings.

There's a crash and a squeal and the chatter of little voices.

“Dak! Yoo awen't s'posed to cawwy the hot coffee pot! Look what yoo did?”

Oh-kay, this is not good. I better stop suffocating on my pillow and go investigate.

“Sowee, Danny. Aye iss jus' helping, yanno? Big Dak likes his coffee in de mownings.”

“But now iss all ovva the floor! And yoo soaked in its!”

I have an instant picture of doom in my mind as I trudge across the hallway and enter the kitchen.

Why me?

I gawk at the Lake Tahoe sized coffee puddle on my kitchen floor and the little guy sitting in it. His fuzzy gray hair sticks out in all direction and his beady brown eyes blink at me. How he can blink with those eyes is beyond me, but he can.

“Mownin' Big Dak,” he greets me. “Wee maded yoo coffee.”

“Aye did. He wuined it,” the other squirt sitting on the kitchen counter informs me regretfully. His eyes are beads, too, but they are blue and he's wearing wire framed glasses just like his real... his big version. I'm not supposed to call them “not real”, because they are. Real, that is. Very, very, real....



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July 2017



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