After eight long years and a lot of rule wrangling by the recently minted General O'Neill, Teal'c had finally been allowed to live outside the SGC, and today was his official apartment-warming lunch.
Daniel arrived first. His gift to Teal'c was a hand-picked set of Wusthof Classic knives. He hoped to have time to demonstrate the various blades before Jack arrived, and to that end, he'd also brought along a selection of fresh vegetables for Teal'c to practice on, as well as a variety of dips for the finished products. He was sure Jack would have neither the interest nor the patience to sit through the demonstration and would heckle him mercilessly, bestowing annoying nicknames with abandon. He didn’t relish adding 'Broccoli Boy' to the ever-growing list of ridiculous monikers he'd accumulated over the last eight or nine years.
They'd been chopping, dicing, and mincing for about fifteen minutes when Jack called up from his truck, looking for help carrying in his own gifts. Daniel lugged the case of assorted Snapple, while Jack toted the cooler of chilled beer, and Teal'c led the way, effortlessly bearing a case each of vanilla, cinnamon, and lemon scented pillar candles.
Once they had Jack settled in the La-Z-Boy and chugging on a cold Heineken in front of the wide screen, Daniel and Teal'c went back to work on the veggie tray. Daniel moved on to a demonstration of the proper way to julienne carrots, while Teal'c observed closely.
Sam rang the bell and came in about ten minutes later, bringing along four huge brightly-colored throw pillows. She had them lashed together with a strap, so she could carry them over her shoulder like Santa's pack. In her other arm, she cradled a bushy fern that, she informed them, she'd propagated herself from a frondlet. Teal'c received the leafy offering with a deep bow and an inscrutable smile.
"I left a huge tray of brownies in the car," Sam said. "Can one of--"
"I shall be honored to retrieve the confections," Teal'c replied eagerly, hastily handing her back the plant and striding purposely toward the door.
Sam grinned, then scanned the room, looking for a suitable place for her baby, and settled quickly on a primo spot near the window. She shifted some African carvings around to make room, and lovingly set the plant down, turning it this way and that to make sure the lush fronds had ample room and weren’t being pinched in any way.
As Daniel stepped into the room with the tray of expertly cut vegetables in his hands, he caught sight of her arranging the plant just so, then bending to whisper encouraging words to it before she reluctantly moved away. She glanced up to find him grinning at her and gave an embarrassed little shrug, then set about tossing the pillows on the floor, to be used as seating in the center of the mostly empty room.
Warmed by the uncharacteristically nonmilitary side of her that she rarely allowed people to see, he crossed to the middle of the circle she'd made, placing the tray of colorful vegetables on the floor. Teal'c set the plate of brownies down next to them, unconcerned by the crumbs still stuck in the corners of his mouth.
Fighting back a smile at the evidence of Teal'c's legendary sweet tooth, Daniel surveyed the spread --beverages, hors d'oeuvres and dessert-- and said, "Hey, Jack, I thought you said you were gonna bring the main course?"
Just then the doorbell rang, and with a smugness only Jack could manage, he shoved the footrest of the recliner down and hustled to the door to open it. With a flourish, he announced, "Mama Ragini's famous Chicken Marsala, honey-grilled salmon and Caesar salad."
The delivery boy staggered inside under the ungainly weight of the huge cardboard box of hot food. "Just put it there on the floor near the pillows, thanks," Jack instructed. He peeled off a wad of bills and stuffed them in the guy's hand as he left. "Here ya go, buddy. Keep the change."
"You were supposed to make something yourself, Jack," Daniel admonished after the door closed behind the guy. "It's supposed to be potluck."
"Daniel," Sam confided in a loud stage whisper, "did you seriously want him to actually cook?" She followed that with a theatrical shudder.
Scowling at the mutinous comments, Jack snapped, "Yeah, well, all of us can't be as handy in the kitchen as Chef Daniel and ol' Martha Stewart O'Teal'c over here."
Daniel frowned at the dig and opened his mouth to reply, but at Teal'c's eyebrow's urging, elected not to pursue it.
"Besides," Jack said as he started pulling the huge aluminum trays out of the box. "I placed the order myself, and paid for it and everything, so that should count. Walter wanted me to go with that Greek place around the corner." He made gagging sounds as he pawed through the rest of the contents. "Like feta's an actual food substance...They were supposed to send-- ah, here we go, paper plates! And...? Utensils and napkins! We're in business, campers, lunch is served." He plopped himself down on a cushion and slopped some fragrantly sauced chicken and pasta onto his plate. "Hand me my beer, would ya, Carter?"
They settled on the floor in a circle and ate gourmet food with plastic forks, off paper plates; all that was missing was the campfire. Teal'c spoke of his first five days of freedom, and they all joyously toasted that. He told of successfully figuring out the washer and dryer controls, which warranted another humorous toast. He then confided he was making friends with his new neighbors, and they somberly drank to that as well.
Teal'c wasn't his usual taciturn self, and Daniel wondered if keeping him cooped up underground for so long had been responsible for the reserved persona they'd all come to know. He silently speculated that a new kind of Teal'c would now bloom in the less restrictive environment. He looked forward to celebrating that.
When Sam left an hour later, she Told Teal'c he could name the plant anything he wanted, and admonished him to talk to it every day and water it once a week, which he solemnly promised to do.
Jack left a few minutes after that, grabbing a beer to go out of the cooler and mumbling, "Well, I'll leave you guys to it then," as he closed the door.
Open-mouthed, Daniel stared after him. "What the hell's the matter with him?" he muttered under his breath.
"It would seem," Teal'c said, serving himself another healthy chunk of the perfectly flaky salmon, "that O'Neill has leaped to an incorrect impression."
"It would seem," Daniel corrected unkindly as he gathered up the leftovers, "that Jack is being even more of an ass than usual." He took the containers into the kitchen and shoved them none too gently into the mostly barren refrigerator, then went back for another load.
Teal'c busied himself chasing the last shreds of pink flesh around the plate, licked the fork clean, and then slid a rather knowing sideways glance in Daniel's direction. "Do you not think this would be an appropriate time to tell O'Neill of your feelings toward him?"
Shocked to his core, Daniel felt as though he'd been slapped in the face with a cold, dead haddock. "My wh-what?" he bluffed. "I don't--" He grabbed a glance at his watch. "Oh, will ya look at that, time’s gotten away from me--"
"Daniel..."
The sound of Teal'c's smoothest Barry White bass, along with the fact that he'd used only Daniel’s first name, was startling. The eye contact which followed was even more telling, and gently, almost lovingly, Daniel found his soul stripped bare. Looking away in embarrassment, he asked softly, "How long have you known?"
"Your feelings for O'Neill are most obvious, my friend."
Daniel winced. "Evidently not that obvious, Teal'c, or he'd have noticed by now," he said morosely. "I've been dropping hints ever since I got back from--" he made a twirly motion toward the ceiling, then shoved both hands deep into his pockets and turned away. "You know he's the reason I left Vis Uban, right?" he said quietly over his shoulder. "A huge, instantaneous crush I couldn’t deny for a total stranger who looked eerily familiar." Pursing his lips, he shook his head sadly, then added, "I followed him home to Earth like a lost puppy."
"Your reason for leaving the strangers with whom you lived is not a surprise to me," he said, "for I, as you, also 'followed him home' once. His is a dynamic not to be ignored."
Teal'c set his plate down and leaned back against the side of the recliner, regarding his friend. "I believe O'Neill also feels an attraction to you on some level, or he would not have become resentful when he observed the two of us in my kitchen earlier this day."
"Jack?" Daniel sputtered, turning back around. "Watched us? He was glued to the TV the whole time. I'm surprised he managed to tear himself away from the Vikings in order to eat lunch with the rest of us."
Teal'c smiled enigmatically. "It is true that he seemed interested in the battle on the grassy field. But did you not notice that when he did in fact tear himself away and stood watching us for some minutes, thinking himself unobserved, as we worked closely together to prepare the meal, before he retreated to the television once again? It was clear to me then that he did not appreciate the familiarity he saw between us."
"I was giving you tips on using the cutlery set I brought you," Daniel explained, wide-eyed, but quickly losing his innocence. "You make it sound like we were necking over the onion dip."
"Perhaps it is precisely that same domestic ease and awareness that O'Neill desires most, but which he feels unworthy to attain."
Daniel swallowed hard, trying to imagine Jack being envious of him and Teal'c, wishing it were he and Daniel bantering through the daily tasks of cooking, of making a home together. Oh, who the hell was he kidding? This was tall, dark and uptight Jack McMacho O'Neill they were talking about here, lover of all things delivery and carryout.
"This is crazy talk," Daniel announced. He stalked to the window, one cold, clammy hand palming the back of his suddenly sweaty neck. "Jack's straight. He's been chasing Sam for years."
Teal'c grunted imperiously as he popped a whole chunk of ranch dip covered broccoli into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. After he swallowed, he replied, "Do you not believe O'Neill could have... caught... Colonel Carter at any point he so wished?"
"There're rules, Teal'c." Daniel sighed heavily, staring out the window and seeing nothing. "Air Force regulations that make it impossible for them to be together, even now that Jack's off SG-1. As base commander, he’s still in direct authority over all of us."
"And do these rules not apply to you as well, even though you do not belong to this Air Force?"
Daniel turned to face his friend, leaning back against the window sill, arms crossed in front of himself. "American culture as a whole isn’t really supportive of homosexual relationships, Teal'c, and I don't even know why we're talking about this; Jack's not gay!"
"And you know this to be fact."
"Well, no... but there's certainly been a lot of evidence to the contrary--"
"Perhaps you should not be so quick to dismiss the possibility that he could see you as a potential mate, should he perceive that you were interested as well."
"Oh, right, I can see it now. 'So, Jack. Been gay lately?'" Daniel snorted derisively. "Yeah, that'll go over real well."
Teal'c's expression softened. "Perhaps a somewhat less... direct approach would yield more positive results. For instance, it is likely O'Neill would also benefit from your expert tutelage in the use of fine cutlery. Once you have his attention thus, you must make your intentions very clear."
"Why are you doing this?" Daniel asked softly.
Teal'c smiled. "In the many years you and I have known one another, have you not always 'been there' for me?" He inclined his head with great solemnity. "I am merely 'returning the favor'."
Oddly, Teal'c's correct usage of common idioms, after all the years of Daniel having to explain them to him, warmed him to a ridiculous extent. "I appreciate it, Teal'c. More than you know. But I just don't know if I can do that…" Laying himself open that way, inviting ridicule from the man he respected above all others. The answer was probably --most likely-- no, anyway. Better--safer, anyway-- just to let it go and figure Jack was using the dumb act to avoid the whole awkward mess. Letting it ride was a more sensible course of action than rashly dropping the protective obfuscation, asking the man outright, and then watching their friendship completely self-destruct.
"Is this senek'nal, where you currently find yourself, a comfortable place?"
Daniel translated on the fly. "Limbo?" he guessed. At the other man's nod, he shrugged. "That's as good a word as any, I guess. And actually? No, it's hell."
Teal'c nodded. "In that case, would it not be more useful to ask the question and obtain an answer, so that you may then move forward out of hell? Even if it is not the answer you seek, will you not be better off?"
*****
When the doorbell rang, Jack sighed miserably. Since getting home from Teal'c's, he'd had so much beer, with so little food, he swore he sloshed whenever he moved. He'd needed to piss for three commercials, but it’d been too damn much trouble to get up. He'd been contemplating using one of the empties, or maybe two of them. Or three.
And there went the goddamned doorbell again. If he was real quiet, maybe they'd go away.
But no, now whoever it was could be heard applying his fist to the solid wood. "JACK!" Oh, god. A Daniel bellow, if ever he’d heard one. "Could ya give me a hand here?" This was punctuated by a kick to the door that rattled the thing on its hinges. "JACK!"
Damn, Daniel was going to wake the dead if this kept up. "Oh, for cryin' out loud," Jack groused, steadying his sloshing belly with one hand as he pushed up from the couch with the other. "Hold your water!" Which reminded him...
He threw the bolt and yanked the door open as he walked by, but didn't slow down on his way up the hall to complete his now desperate mission.
A couple of minutes later, Jack came out of the bathroom feeling much better. Lighter. And frowning at the racket coming from his kitchen. He followed the clattering sounds to find that Daniel had unloaded grocery bags of food all over his counter.
"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" he inquired blandly as he watched Daniel paw through the pile of produce.
"I'm looking for the ginger. I thought the guy put it in the same bag with the bell peppers, but I'm not finding-- ah!" He held up something lumpy and tan. "Found it."
Jack watched while Daniel finished unloading the stuff, wondering if he was missing something crucial. He blinked twice. He hadn't had that much to drink. "Let me try again. Why are you unloading your groceries in my kitchen?"
Daniel stopped, folded his arms across his chest, and leaned a hip against the counter. "Because I thought it highly likely that you didn’t have any shrimp or ginger on hand, and I'm willing to bet my last paycheck that you not only don't have any bok choy, but that you couldn't even pick it out of that assortment of vegetation."
"Bok choy." Jack eyed the bounty on the Formica. "You shouldn't have."
Daniel made a face. "Very funny. Now how about you find me a cutting board and knife about yay-long," he indicated with two index fingers. "Something with a decent edge." He started opening cabinets, peering inside. "You have olive oil, I presume?"
"Yes, I have olive oil," Jack snapped, pushing past Daniel to get at the cupboard on the far side of the work surface. He yanked the door open, pulled a container out, and slammed it closed again, thrusting the requested item in Daniel's direction like a challenge. "Extra virgin, see?"
"Perfect," Daniel said, taking the bottle. "Knife? Board?" he added distractedly as he crammed the empty plastic grocery bags into the drawer where he knew Jack kept them.
Jack turned to the wooden block on the far end of the counter and selected a knife that fit Daniel's vague description. He took up the sharpening steel and went to work, using suspicious eyes to keep a keen watch on Daniel's strange grocery activity. "Mind telling me what all this is about? Thoughtful bok choy gifts notwithstanding, of course."
Daniel shrugged as he used a wad of paper towels to dry off the veggies he'd just washed. "I dunno. I guess cooking with Teal'c this afternoon reminded me how much I enjoy it."
Jack blinked at this startling revelation. "I had no idea."
"Yeah, neither did I, really. Haven’t had much time for it since I came back..."
It was funny, Jack mused, how blithely they all referred to Daniel’s glowy sojourn as 'while you were away', and 'since you've come back', as if Daniel'd simply taken a sabbatical to the south of France to study Cordon Bleu technique or something. He'd died. Been dead. As good as, and now he was back with them, just like nothing at all the least bit remarkable had happened.
"...and my kitchen's so small you'd trip over yourself making coffee."
"Speaking of which," Jack asked, back in the conversation once again, "you want I should make a pot?" He set the knife and cutting board next to the pile of washed vegetables and snitched a mushroom off the top.
"Nah, how about you open the wine over there, let it start to breathe." He eyed Jack warily. "And I saw that mushroom."
Jack gave him his most guileless expression and stole another one, then picked up the bottle, examining the label closely as he reached for the corkscrew. "Looks mighty expensive. You sure I'm qualified?" he asked, shooting a smirk back over his shoulder.
Daniel glanced up and did a deliberate head-to-toe appraisal that made Jack's belly flip over. "You'll do," he pronounced before he went back to his slicing.
Jack started at the blatant assessment, and then mentally smacked himself for reading something into what had almost certainly been an attempt at humor and nothing more. He finished opening the wine and retrieved two real wine glasses from the breakfront.
Dinner was apparently supposed to be some kind of shrimp stir fry event, and Daniel seemed more than a little put out that it looked as though he was going to have to perform it in a mere skillet. "What d’ya mean ya don't have a wok? How can you not have a wok?"
"Simple. Walk is something you do with a dog."
"Wok, Jack, not walk." He shook his head, muttering, "Hopeless." He rattled around in the lower cabinets until he came up with the largest skillet Jack had. "You're a heathen, you know that, right?"
"Happily, joyfully, card-carrying," Jack admitted with a wide grin. God, this was fun. "You ready for that wine now?"
Daniel sighed. "Yes. Perhaps it'll dull my disappointment in your blatant disregard for my culinary talents. Can you at least slice the onion? I mean, I'm only one man, and I'd like to eat before midnight."
Jack poured two glasses of the dark red beverage and handed one to Daniel. "Whatever you say, wok-boy," he said, tapping his glass to his companion's and watching him sniff the aroma, then savor the fluid on his tongue before nodding his approval and taking a real drink.
Jack took a deep swallow himself and proceeded to attack the onion Daniel handed him as they crowded together over the one cutting board. "There's always carryout, y'know," he suggested helpfully.
"Every meal can't be carryout," Daniel replied, turning down the heat under the rice. "How’d you ever afford to eat before you had a General's pay-- no, no, oh my god, you're doing it wrong," he admonished, reaching across the counter to still the hand that held the knife. "Hold the onion like this, or you're gonna lose a finger. Slice it in half first, that way you have a flat edge to rest it on so it doesn’t roll away. We're looking for fairly large pieces for this dish, so I want you to take your time and use carefully measured strokes to create half-rings that don't feature any O'Neill hemoglobin on them whatsoever..."
"Aht! Lookit that. First glass of wine and you're already bringin' out the big words."
Daniel peered at him over the rims of his glasses. "You'll notice I brought two bottles," he said, pointing with his glass toward the other counter where the as yet unopened container sat. "Wait and see what comes out once we open that one."
The double take almost cost Jack the aforementioned finger. "The-- what?"
Daniel refocused Jack's attention on his slicing duties and after much wrangling and raw veggie stealing, the wok-less stir fry was on the table, smelling wonderful. Large, succulent shrimp crowded crisp sugar snap peas and slender strips of red bell pepper, in a savory brown sauce over rice. Even that bok choy stuff wasn't bad.
They ate the meal in companionable silence, but Jack kept one sharp eye peeled on Daniel at the insistence of his hackles, which had never lied to him before and which were pinging him something fierce right now. Something was clearly up, because they'd finished the first bottle of wine and were each one glass into the next, and any minute now, a big, honkin' size eleven was gonna come crashing down onto his dinner table; he just knew it.
Midway through the meal, Jack accidentally kicked a grocery bag which had been left under the table. As he bent to pick it up, a small bottle rolled out. He stopped it with his foot, then picked it up to read the label. He made a big effort to keep his mouth from gaping, hoping against hope that Daniel couldn't hear his heart pounding. Eventually, he forced himself to turn questioning eyes toward the man seated next to him.
Daniel flushed red and took a deep, fortifying breath. "There may have been more to the gift than just the bok choy." He took a sip of his wine and met Jack's eyes bravely. "If you're interested."
This time Jack couldn't stop it; his mouth dropped open in disbelief, time seeming to grind to a near-standstill. Gaze firmly on the bottle of Astroglide in his hand, which really could only mean one thing, he stammered, "I've-ah, never... had a gift quite like this." But it wasn't for a lack of dreaming about it.
Daniel cocked his head to the side. His expression looked calmly interested, but Jack could see Daniel's brain working underneath all that seemingly unflappable exterior. He could sense the frantic search for plausible denial forming on his lips, something that would turn all of it into a harmless joke, protection against an unwelcome response. "Really?" Daniel asked carefully. "Never?"
Jack was frozen in place, caught between decades of training and denial, and years worth of hopeless longing. He wanted to yell, OHFER CRYIN' OUT LOUD, FINALLY! , but something stopped him. He was in a different place now, with this whole General gig, and he had no idea if that would make this Jack + Daniel equation actually doable, or if he'd be under more of a microscope than ever before.
In an effort to buy a little time for his beer- and wine-saturated brain to figure out the math, he managed, "Well, not a gift this... y'know... shape."
"Ahhhh," Daniel said with a settling frown. He allowed himself another swallow of his wine before he hesitantly added, "And is the... shape of this gift a go, or a no-go?"
Jack knew Daniel must be teetering on the very edge of giving up and diving for Plan B, so in the midst of his own algebraic agony, Jack's arm shot out to grab onto him quick, before one of them fell off the precipice of indecision upon which they seemed to be balanced.
He still hadn’t been able to do any kind of reasonable analysis on the variables --Daniel, do the natives seem friendly?, Carter- what're the odds? Teal'c- you ever seen anything like this?-- so he went with his gut.
"Go," he said quickly, turning his hand to twine their fingers together into a solid grip, so this chance wouldn’t slip away. "Definitely a go."
Daniel's face lit up with a grin that scrunched his eyes together and made that one dimple really pop. "That's encouraging," he said.
"You should do that more often," Jack said softly, as his thumb stroked the backs of Daniel's knuckles. The first of much stroking to come.
"Do what?"
"Smile at me like that."
A wicked twinkle appeared in Daniel's eye. He set his wine glass down then and leaned toward Jack and whispered, "You think you can make me?"
Jack smirked and met him halfway, pulling Daniel's glasses off with his free hand. "Maybe like this?" Their lips met, barely a whisper of skin on skin, pretty much just warmth and promise, ending in two very shy but hopeful smiles.
"Or like this?" Daniel said, leaning further into it and pressing a little harder, finishing with a gentle lick with just the point of his tongue along Jack's upper lip, making Jack groan under his breath and follow after him as he pulled away.
"Or this." Jack cupped Daniel's neck and drew him close, not fooling around this time, turning his own head at the last minute, so that their mouths fit perfectly. He then proceeded to coax Daniel to open his mouth, using his clever tongue as persuasion. The kiss grew legs and made frantic little noises, and soon, hands grabbed for purchase, and they were both suddenly standing, Jack holding Daniel by the head, and Daniel gripping Jack's ass with both hands. By the time they were so desperate for breath that they finally parted, they were both quite obviously hard and dinner was long forgotten.
"Does this," Jack panted, picking up the lube with one hand without releasing his hold on Daniel with the other, "Come with instructions?"
Daniel grinned and snatched the bottle. "Let's find out."
*****
Turns out, there were no directions.
On the other hand, they hadn’t really needed any to get off. Once the clothes started to disappear and strong hands found warm, bare skin--
''Here, take this--"
"I've got 'em--"
"No, Jesus, this--"
"Well, if you'd move your--"
"I'm trying! I just--"
"OhgodI--"
"Wait! I wanted to--"
But it was too late. Once Jack felt Daniel's hand between his legs --any hand other than his own was a novelty in and of itself lately, but this was Daniel's hand, cupping his balls none too gently for cryin' out loud, and his grateful dick erupted embarrassingly all over the bed just as they'd started to get horizontal.
Gasping, knees weak, lights flashing behind his eyes and drained of every ounce of energy, Jack fell the rest of the way onto the mattress and rolled in an effort not to squash the man who'd caused him to lose control like a goddamned teenager instead of the suave and seasoned lovemaking stud he'd really wanted to be. "Crap."
"Jack--"
"I know, all right? I'm sorry."
"What? That was the hottest thing I've ever seen," Daniel breathed, rolling to meet him and settling snuggly along Jack's left side. "I don’t think I've ever been this fucking hard in my life."
Daniel punctuated that statement with a thrust of his hips and the beginnings of an assertive kiss that took the rest of Jack's breath away. The man was still hard, the show-off, and it felt like he was bigger than Siler's wrench as his erection dug into Jack's hip. He pulled out of the kiss and panted warily, "Whatcha gonna do with that?"
Daniel grinned. "So many plans... I'd wanted to try giving you head, but that'll have to wait until next time…"
Jack returned the smile, wrapping leaden arms across Daniel's back. "Next time..." He leaned up and captured Daniel's lips with his own and happily let Daniel commandeer that kiss as well. He'd been worried this might be a one-off, especially with his amateur performance just now. "Next time sounds just right. You want me to--"
"No," Daniel said, the playfulness rapidly ebbing away in the face of an obvious wave of need. "I'm too close. I couldn't enjoy it."
"Next time," Jack pledged.
Daniel frowned in concerned concentration. "I want..."
Filled with the warm promise of more opportunities to get it right --a lifetime, if he had anything to say about it-- Jack bravely offered, "Anything."
Daniel raised himself up on his arms, and Jack felt Daniel's warm sac skirting across his belly as he was straddled, then watched Daniel's eyes close as he firmly took himself in hand. Three agonizingly slow strokes later, and Daniel was coming all over Jack's chest, head thrown back, the sound of his exquisite relief sending shivers up the back of Jack's thighs.
"Christ, you're beautiful," Jack murmured in awe.
Still breathing hard, Daniel smiled down at him. "Back at'cha, General," he said, and using the hand that wasn't supporting his weight, he smoothed the warm, viscous fluid across Jack's skin. "Especially now. You look good wearing my come." His eyes met Jack's, an eyebrow raised in challenge. Teal'c had told him to make his intentions clear. "You know what this means."
Jack grinned at the predatory gleam in his lover's eyes and settled his hands firmly on the muscular thighs that still held him. He had a pretty good idea what the implication was, and that suited him just fine. "Means we're showering together?"
"You're damn right," Daniel replied with a satisfied smirk. "For many, many years to come."
End
12/24/11