That was Wednesday. Thursday, he shows up at the Mountain determined to get back on an even keel with Daniel, only for the other man to somehow successfully avoid even being in the same room with him all day. He knows he's there, and catches a few glimpses of him, but he can't pin him down. He gives it up as a lost cause, decides one day for Daniel to sort out his feelings about the whole thing isn't that bad, and lets it go. Friday, when he still can't track him down by lunchtime, Cam is getting decidedly more antsy. He's on the verge of doing something drastic, like asking the Marines to grab him and hold on to him or trying to talk medical into summoning him, when he himself gets a summons from Landry.

Making the trek up to the General's office, he knocks and then salutes, standing quietly when Landry holds up a finger, and finishes a call that is thankfully not on the red presidential phone before gesturing Cam in. "You wanted to see me, Sir?"

"Have a seat, Mitchell," Cam does, sliding into the seat opposite the old-fashioned wooden desk that is so at odds with so much of what else inhabits the SGC. Landry slides a few sheets of paper across the desk to him and then clasps his hands on top of the desk. "Can you explain these to me, son?"

"It's a transfer request," Cam says, confused, noting the type of form before his eyes find the name, and then his stomach seems to drop out when he realizes that the forms are Daniel's. He looks at the second paper, skimming it quickly - it seems to be a resignation letter, effective if the transfer request isn't granted.

"I thought you and Dr. Jackson were getting along quite well," Landry says, and Cam can't get anything from his tone. "You said he'd agreed to come back to SG-1. But now I have these. What changed?"

"I - we had a disagreement, about the way the mission went on P3X-187."

"Did you handle it?"

"Yes Sir," Cam says, feeling a flush creeping up his face, and hoping Landry realizes it's due to embarrassment and not because he's lying. It wasn't exactly a 'disagreement' - Cam had made his point pretty clearly, and Daniel had been given no leeway. He isn't sure if the General knows about his and Jack's conversation, or about Daniel's history. "That is...I thought I did. I'm realizing he and I are very much not on the same page." Cam drops the papers on the desk, because they're uselessly devoid of any helpful details anyway, so that he can scrub his hands over his face.

"I am aware that Dr. Jackson is in a unique position at the SGC, and has only ever served directly under General O'Neill," Landry says diplomatically, reaching over to slide the request and the letter back to his side of the desk and tapping them thoughtfully, "and I'm not inclined to let anyone under my command make these kinds of major career decisions without at least being willing to have a discussion with me first, which Dr. Jackson didn't do when he asked Sargeant Harriman to give these to me." He takes them off the desk and slides them into the top drawer, before looking back over at a silent Mitchell. "I'm buying you the weekend to change his mind, son. You're dismissed."

Snapping a salute, Cam retreats and goes to look for Daniel again, only to find he's already left the base. His first phone call goes directly to voice mail, and he heads down to the gym and spends an hour in a grueling workout to burn off as much frustration as possible before he moves on to what feels like plan F, and heads up top to try Daniel's apartment. Unfortunately, when he arrives, the windows are dark, Daniel's car is missing, and no one answers when he knocks.

He calls him again, leaving a slightly more demanding message this time, and then finds the nearest food joint that looks like it's serving dinner, sitting at the bar to order a burger and wishing it were a tall cold beer. How is he supposed to sort it out with Daniel if he can't even track him down? Cam nurses fries and soda in a quiet corner of the bar, ignoring the curious stares of the bartender, until the hour hand on the clock inches past 8 pm before he admits he is going to have to call in reinforcements. He leaves a generous tip on the bar and goes back to his truck, saying a small prayer for his own continued existence before he dials a number he really, really didn't want to have to call today - or, given the topic at hand, ever.

Unlike Daniel, it's answered on the second ring, with a brusque and businesslike, "O'Neill."

"I'm sorry to bother you on a Friday night, Sir," Cam chokes out after he clears his throat, and then flounders for a moment in silence before he just throws himself to the wolves. "I think I fucked up."

There's a short bark of laughter that contains very little actual sound of amusement, followed by a sigh, and then O'Neill rattles off an address.

"Um, Sir?"

"Just get over here, Mitchell," Jack says, and hangs up on him.

The address isn't that far, and Cam's pulling up to a neat, older neighborhood not twenty minutes later, double checking the numbers on the houses before he pulls into the driveway of a home that seems remarkably well-kept home, given that its owner supposedly lives and works in Washington, D.C.. Daniel's car is parked in the driveway alongside a pickup truck, so he pulls in behind and starts up the walk. He doesn't even get a chance to knock before the door swings open, and he's facing Jack O'Neill, who points down the short entry hallway towards the living room and simply orders "Take off your shoes and go find a seat." He looks tired and displeased enough that Cam is half expecting to be swatted at himself as he wordlessly does as he's told.

Daniel is huddled in the corner of the couch, arms wrapped around himself again, looking anywhere but at Cam, and there are traces of tears on his face. Trying to respect his space, Cam chooses the single chair instead of the other end of the couch. There's a low coffee table in between them and Cam tries not to fidget, unsure what to say or where to start.

After a long, awkward pause, Jack comes back into the room, handing a bottle of water to Cam and setting one down in front of Daniel. Cam is surprised to see that Daniel doesn't look at Jack either, and seems to lean away from him as Jack is setting the water down and then sitting beside him on the couch; he'd expected that once Jack returned, Daniel would seek some kind of comfort for his clear distress from his longtime friend - after all, isn't that why Daniel's here? Running to Jack because of whatever Cam did wrong?

"Alright," Jack breaks the silence after a long minute. "I've heard Daniel's side, or at least part of it. Why don't you tell me yours?"

"I..." Cam starts, and then stops. He feels like he's being interrogated by Jack's dark brown eyes, and has to regroup his thoughts. "We were on a mission, and Daniel made some spectacularly bad calls,"

Daniel mutters something under his breath that Cam can't hear, but either Jack can, or he cares more about tone than content, because he reaches over and lands a crisp swat to the side of the archaeologist's thigh that makes even Cam wince, and then looks back to Cam with arched brows in a clear order to continue.

"When we got back, I realized that it was the sort of reckless and dangerous behavior that I couldn't ignore, so I punished him for it. I did my best to keep in mind what you said, but...." cam shrugs helplessly, "I don't know what went wrong, and then he's been avoiding me ever since. Landry called me into his office today at lunchtime to ask why Daniel had put in for a transfer or resignation and told me I had until Monday to make it right. Daniel, I-"

"No, you idiots had your chance to work this out, now you're talking to me," Jack interrupts him when he tries to address Daniel, and Cam snaps his gaze back over to the General. "How?"

"How, Sir?"

"How did you punish him?"

"Uh, I spanked him, Sir..."

"Mitchell, be specific," O'Neill growls, ignoring Daniel who puts his head in his hands and tries to become one with the couch with a loud groan. Cam sympathizes with him in that moment as he fixes his eyes on a point above Jack's head and responds.

"I had him bend over his workbench, because there was more space, and bared him. Then I gave him about two dozen spanks with my hand, and eight with a wooden paddle."

"And then?"

"That...that was it, sir. Then I got him up and tried to offer comfort, give him a hug, keep him with me for a little while while he got regulated, but he practically ran away."

Jack sits back, finally turning his attention to the other man. "Daniel?"

"I just..." Daniel is still talking to the couch cushions, but his voice is clear enough. "I just couldn't."

"So you didn't let him take care of you afterwards."

"He spanked me and I was upset!"

"Daniel."

"He was so angry," Daniel says softly, and then finally raises his head, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and glancing briefly at Cam before he looks away again. "You used a paddle," he adds, accusingly, and that throws Cam for a loop more than the accusation of anger already had because what else was he supposed to do? Straps and belts were out, canes were so severe, what was he supposed to use? Jack must catch Cam's baffled expression, and then something seems to click into place for him. He turns to Cam first.

"Mitchell, did you have a discussion about rules and expectations like I told you to?"

"Yes," Cam says, relieved to be able to answer in the affirmative, and Jack turns his attention to Daniel.

"You were clear on the expectations?"

"Same as yours," Daniel mutters down into his lap, "follow orders, don't be reckless."

"So Mitchell held up his end of the bargain as well as he understood it," Jack says, and then to Cam's surprise, reaches out and grabs Daniel's chin, forcing him to meet Jack's eyes. "And I held up mine by making sure the conversation got initiated, and he knew to tread carefully. Did you hold up yours by having an honest conversation with him about what you needed?"

"No," Daniel says, sounding miserable. "But-"

"There's no 'but,'" Jack cuts him off firmly, but releases his chin. "You didn't have a conversation with him about implements or positions, or the things you need after a spanking, or anything about how to get a pause if you're overwhelmed in the moment, and here we are. Mitchell, do you feel good about what happened?" Jack asks, and Cam shakes his head mutely, feeling like he's missing a huge piece of the puzzle, "and Daniel, do you feel like eight swats absolved you of any guilt for your crap in the field last week?"

"No," Daniel whispers, turning bright red and ducking his head again.

"Well then. The both of you have some learning and growing to do, and apparently, a deadline," he checks his watch. "You've got until Monday, but we're going to start tonight. Cameron, do you have a go bag in your truck?" He blinks, momentarily thrown by the use of his first name, and then nods. "Go get it, so you don't have to go back out. You're staying at least the night."

He has no idea what is about to happen, but there's a firm edge under Jack's tone that he decides not to test; he stands up and heads for the door to do as he's told. As he's going, he sees Jack pull Daniel to his feet and send him down the hallway with another swat and as he opens the door he hears, "Go put your pajamas on. And drink at least half of that water, I didn't bring it out here for you to stare at it."

When he comes back inside, Jack comes out of the kitchen to lock the front door behind him. "The guest room is the second room down the hall. Go dump your stuff and meet us back in the living room. You can change if you want into something more comfortable." The General himself is wearing a pair of sweatpants and an old Air Force t-shirt; again, he's making polite suggestions sound enough like orders that Cam follows through without question, putting on a pair of sweats of his own before wandering back out to the living room.

Daniel is curled up in the same corner of the couch, only this time, he's wearing a worn pair of soft-looking cotton pajama pants and an even softer-looking shirt. He's cradling the bottle of water, which while not half-empty has certainly been partially consumed, and staring at the coffee table as Cam settles back into his chair.

"So," Jack begins, taking the last empty spot on the couch. "Here's how this is going to go. Daniel, I'm going to spank you for your shenanigans off-world, so Cameron can see how we usually handle things. Tomorrow, the two of you are going to sit down and hash out an actual set of rules and expectations like you should have done in the first place, and determine what will work for you going forward. Daniel, on Monday, you can both sit down and explain to Hank that he won't have any more of this nonsense from his flagship team."

"Sir-" Cam starts, and gets glared at.

"Don't argue with me, Mitchell, or I will haul you over my knee right after him." Cam shuts his mouth, but his heart is hammering in his chest, because he is pretty sure Jack isn't kidding, and also because he's not sure he shouldn't be in the same boat. He gathers all his courage and says,

"Sir, maybe...maybe I deserve that. It was my responsibility to make sure that conversation happened, and when we both got uncomfortable, I let it go."

"You're not wrong," Jack says, and it sounds ominous, but also, the corner of his mouth quirks up. "But we'll talk later."

Jack reaches a hand out to Daniel. "Ready, Danny?"

"Can't we do it in the morning?" Daniel's voice is muffled by the way he's pulled his knees up to his chest. "I'm really tired."

"We could," Jack agrees easily, "but we're going to do it tonight. The sooner you get this taken care of, the sooner the two of you can focus on talking it out and move past this, instead of stewing over it all weekend and not being able to enjoy any of it."

"Fine," Daniel mutters, and uncurls, sliding over to lay on his stomach across the older man's lap. Jack wraps a hand around his outside hip and snugs him closer, and then looks up at Cam. "I almost always put him over my knee," he says, as casually as if he's explaining the weekend's football scores instead of how he's about to administer a spanking. "He does better if you keep him close. If you can't, try bracing him over your hip, or stand as close as you can."

Without hesitation, Jack slides a couple of fingers into the waistband of Daniel's sweats and strips them to his knees, leaving him bare. Daniel doesn't protest, but he does squirm, burying his face in the couch cushions. Jack doesn't comment on it, just goes ahead and lands the first dozen smacks to the curve of Daniel's ass, and the younger man gasps, his back arching.

"He's going to squirm," Jack adds, his voice still calm, almost soothing. "I always spank on the bare so I can see what I'm doing."

Cam can't take his eyes off of the red blooming across Daniel's skin, or the way the muscles in his back shift with every swat. He feels a little guilty for the way he's responding, but it's fascinating, and a part of him is thinking, yes, this is what should have happened. Daniel lets out a noise that could be a whimper, but Jack continues the spanking, steady and relentless, moving slowly down to the tops of his thighs. His hand is huge, spanning nearly the entire width of Daniel's backside, and he's using his a fair bit of strength to land crisp, stinging smacks. "I made a mistake, too, that I need to clarify," Jack says when he pauses a moment later, resting his hand just below the fire he's begun to ignite on Daniel's white thigh. "When I said, 'a soft touch', I was referring mostly to the method - putting him over your knee, which implements, the aftercare. Not the severity. It's still important to make sure you get him to the point he needs to be."

That gets the first protest out of Daniel, something uncomplimentary the Cam can't quite make out from where he's sitting and he kicks the couch with deliberate sharpness. Jack rewards him with a half-dozen swats targeted directly and at full strength to his sit spots, making him yelp wetly and go still. "That's enough out of you," Jack scolds. "I know you aren't there yet, don't worry, I'll take care of you."

He leans over Daniel momentarily and picks something up off of the coffee table that Cam hadn't even noticed - it's a paddle, but far different than the one he'd used. It's about the size of Jack's palm, actually, just slightly bigger than a hairbrush would be, and about that same oval shape. Jack holds it up so he can see it. "Sometimes a hand spanking is enough. When he puts his life at risk, I always add something more. This is my implement of preference, but a spoon or a hairbrush work just as well." He demonstrates with a couple of swats, and the resulting sound is much louder and sharper than it had been when it was just a hand landing, each swat leaving a bright oval behind for a moment before they start to fade into the overall red flush.

Cam tries not to flinch at the sound, but Daniel starts to yelp and kick wildly at each swat, and the next swat of the paddle lands sharply on the inside of his right thigh. "Ow, Jack!"

"You're going to behave and hold still," Jack says, calmly, but there's a thread of steel running through his tone that has even Cam straightening in his seat. Daniel, for his part, stops thrashing immediately, and then, a few seconds later, the kicking starts back up, although he's trying to aim at the couch and not the paddle now. Jack lands another two dozen swats, at an even pace and intensity, and Daniel finally goes limp over his knee and gives into the tears; Cam hears the first 'sorries' mumbled amongst tearful pleas for 'no more' and 'please, Jack!'.

"If there are no tears, either you're not done, or there's something wrong," Jack says grimly. "Almost done, Danny." Lifting one knee to raise Daniel's now-red butt higher up in the air, he lands a final two spanks on each sit spot that elicit pathetic wails from Daniel.

"Alright," Jack soothes, "You're done, baby." He drops the paddle onto the coffee table and then scoops Daniel into his lap, and Cam watches as the younger man's arms wrap around the General and his face buries itself in the older man's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he hiccups, and Jack shushes him gently, one arm wrapped firmly around his waist and the other rubbing soothing circles against the small of his back.

"We know. It's alright now." Daniel, turning his face into Jack's neck, murmurs something Cam can't hear. Jack shakes his head. "No, he doesn't, I promise." Slowly, he eases the younger man back, and pulls the sweats up over his sore bottom as gently as he can, gently taking his face in his hands and kissing his forehead as he sets him on his feet. "Why don't you go over there and give him the hug you wouldn't give him yesterday and let him tell you himself?"

Daniel nods, his eyes shining with fresh tears, and then steps over the coffee table and hesitates. When Cam opens his arms, he presses forward, his arms wrapping around the pilot's neck and his face tucking into the same spot he'd pressed against Jack. Cam's arms come up around him instinctively, pulling him close. "I'm sorry, Cam," he says, and he sounds absolutely miserable. "Please don't hate me,"

"Of course I don't!" Cam protests, squeezing him a little. "I thought you hated me."

"No," Daniel shakes his head, and his voice is muffled but the sincerity rings through loud and clear. "Never. I was embarrassed and scared and I didn't know what to do and I just didn't want you to hate me, but I knew you were disappointed and-"

"Shh," Cam hushes him, rocking a little. "It's okay, Daniel. We both made mistakes. But you've been spanked for the ones you deserved to get spanked for, and we're gonna fix the rest with the General tomorrow, yeah?"

That earns him a little laugh, but he's not sure why until there's a groan from said General across from him. "That's enough of that. You're going to have to stop 'Sir'ing and 'General'ing me if you're going to hang out at the house, Mitchell. Unless you're in trouble, here it's Jack, or O'Neill, if you have to."

"Yes, S-Jack," he stumbles over it, but...it's nice. It might not be serving under the man on SG-1, but it's not being abandoned by him either.

Daniel suddenly yawns big enough it cracks his jaw, and Jack quirks a smile at Cam, holding out a hand for Daniel. "Let me take him for a minute, get him settled, and I'll come back and we can talk."

Cam relinquishes Daniel to him, watching them disappear down the hallway. He listens to the sound of a toilet flushing and the tap running and Jack's gentle, "Let's get you washed up a little, you'll sleep better." He's not sure exactly how they've ended up here, but he's...not unhappy about it, which surprises him. He doesn't want to have to hand out any spankings, and that was a far cry from regulations but...he can adjust, for Daniel. A door closes and he can't hear anything else, and his thoughts start to churn, as he remembers - he'd volunteered to get punished too. Had meant it, even. Jack had said they'd talk later. He was going to spank him, and...

The General comes back in the room, and Cam stands up, unsure what he's supposed to be doing, but Jack waves a hand and tells him to sit back down, so he does. The other man grabs the water bottle off the coffee table and twists the cap off, handing it to Cam, and then sits back down on the couch.

"So, do you have any questions?" Jack asks, and Cam takes a drink.

"No, sir," he says, and then shakes his head. "Well, not right now."

"You volunteered to take your turn," Jack points out. "Because you feel guilty about your role in the communication breakdown. Do you want to hear what I'm thinking?" Cam nods, hesitantly, so Jack goes on. "My first instinct was to say no. Because you did try to have the conversation in good faith, and you acted in good faith based on what you knew, and he had a responsibility to tell you more of what you couldn't have possibly even known to ask. But I think I am going to spank you for a totally different reason."

"What's that?" Cam asks, a little wary.

"When's the last time someone had you over their knee, Cameron?"

"Um," the question throws him. "Maybe my second year at Academy? But I was tall, they phased it out pretty fast."

"That's what I thought." Jack leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together. "It's very different than being over a desk or up against a wall, and I think a better appreciation of that will only help you with Daniel. Plus, I think you probably are doubting how effective a hand spanking can really be on its own, and I am going to show you."

"Yes, S-Jack," Cam swallows, and Jack pats his leg.

"Come here," he says, and Cam goes, standing and stepping over the coffee table the same way Daniel had, and then lowering himself gingerly across Jack's lap. The older man's hands settle on his waist, and while his touch is gentle, it's also firm, adjusting him to his liking, his upper body on the couch, his butt perfectly placed over Jack's lap, and his legs dangling off the other side. He can feel the warmth of Jack's thighs under him, and the way his hips fit neatly into the curve of his body. Jack's hand slides up the middle of his back and then pushes back down, and he's not sure, but it feels a little like...a caress. It should be horrifically awkward but...it's not.

"Pants are coming down," Jack warns him, and he slides his fingers under the waistband and tugs the fabric down, both sweats and boxers, leaving him bare to the world. That does start to make him feel awkward, but he can't move, and the embarrassment doesn't have long to fester.

The General's hand lands on his ass, hard and heavy, and Cam jolts forward. "Ow!"

"Yeah," Jack's voice is amused, but not unkind. "It does that." The hand comes down again, and it's just as hard and it stings just as much, but the blow doesn't surprise him this time, and he braces for the third one. And the fourth. And the fifth. They don't hurt less, and they're certainly not gentle, but they aren't a surprise anymore.

Jack keeps a steady, quick pace, landing smack after smack, and the sound is almost as loud as the one the paddle had made, just more fleshy and less sharp. Just when he thinks it can't get any worse, Jack lowers his attack to his sit spots and his upper thighs. The first swat that makes him gasp is when the older man's hand catches the tender crease between ass and thigh, and Cam tries to twist, to squirm away from it, and Jack's left arm wraps firmly around his waist holding him tight.

"I've got you," Jack tells him, and there's a reassuring tone that is oddly comforting. "But we're not done until you let go." He makes a whole circuit of the undercurve of Cam's butt and upper thighs before moving back up to the curve of his butt. The pain is starting to build, and it's starting to sting and ache and burn in equal measure, and Cam finds himself gasping, his breath coming out in little pants. There are tears building in his eyes, and he tries desperately to blink them away.

"It's okay," Jack's hand pauses, resting hot and heavy against the center of his ass. "Tears are natural. You're not going to die of embarrassment if you cry a little bit, and you'll feel better afterward."

"It hurts," Cam protests, and then yelps when the General's hand comes down again.

"It's supposed to," he says. "Let go, Cameron." Jack shifts underneath him, lifting a knee and bringing his sit spots up into easier reach. "I won't think any less of you. I'm proud of what you are doing with SG-1, I'm glad we picked you, and I trust you with Daniel."

That does it. He doesn't think he'll ever sit again, but the tears finally come, washing down his face as he cries.

"Alright," Jack says, and his hand is suddenly resting warmly, soothingly, against Cam's back. "That's it, that's what I was waiting for. You're done."

He tugs Cam's pants back up, and then helps him sit back up, and his expression is sympathetic but not pitying. He squeezes Cam's knee and gets up, disappearing down the hall and reappearing with a damp washcloth. "Here, wipe your face," Cam takes the wash cloth and wipes haphazardly at his face, before finding himself folded into a warm hug, which he returns. When he pulls away, Jack is studying him, and then gives a brisk nod when he's seemingly satisfied with what he finds.

"You alright?" Cam nods, surprised to find it's true. Jack smiles at him, pats his knee. "Go lay down, and try and get some sleep. We'll figure things out in the morning."

Cam nods, and heads back toward the guest room, his butt still burning, and his mind...a lot less cloudy than it had been. He has no idea what's going to happen tomorrow, but he thinks...it'll be fine.