| Date: 11 December 2007
Characters: Jack Harkness, The Ninth Doctor Location: outside, hotel room Link to IJ: thread #3306 |
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 "You just woke up? That's it?" |
 "Anti-climatic, isn't it? But yeah, I just woke up. Dalek dust and corpses everywhere, half the planet wiped out, and I just woke up." There was, predictably, some bitterness there. |
| "What did you do?" |
| "Followed you - tried to follow you, anyway. Went back to earth. Missed the twentieth century, landed late in the 19th." |
| "And you...over moisturized?" |
| "Am I what?" |
| "A century!" |
| "I can't stay dead. I just keep coming back. Over and over and fucking over again." |
| "No aging either?" |
| "Some," he admitted. "I have some gray hair. Not bad for nearly two hundred, huh?" |
| "Kind of impressive," he nodded. |
| He growled and dragged the Doctor in and kissed him again, still half anger, half frustration and desperation. He wondered briefly, if he could manage to kill himself through healing someone else, and how badly he'd have to hurt them to do it. |
| The Doctor held onto Jack tightly, trying to get him to let out his anger in this (fairly positive) manner instead of violence. |
| Jack bit into the kiss, teeth catching almost hard enough to break skin but the small bruise almost immediately healing with a surge of heat and energy from Jack. Jack who was so tense he (very, very faintly and just because of muscle tension) shaking. |
| "Stop that," he growled, fingers tightening around Jack's wrist. |
| He responded to the tighter grip around his wrists by locking his knees and pushing back against the wall - directly counter to what he wanted to do. "Stop what?" |
| "Biting," the Doctor leaned in and kissed Jack now, softer, warmer, possessive and protective. Not gentle, but not dangerous. |
| Jack had, frankly, been waiting to be shoved away entirely. His first response to the kiss was a moment of stunned stillness, followed by a low, soft groan. The roughness didn't entirely disappear -- it was still there in the strength, and push and his grip on the Doctor's coat-- but he responded to the warmth and possessiveness. The edges were worn off his anger and frustration, and they shifted into want and need.
Mostly, he focused on the kiss. Everything he had, pulling the Doctor in, holding on and kissing. Warm slick glide and thrust and gradually falling back under the Doctor, while he poured himself into the moment and kiss and Doctor in a way that was still about healing, but not physical injury. Just. Giving it up and kissing him, and it was a little bitter sweet because it was Jack and he was 200 years old, and dark came with the light as much as bitter with the sweet, and loving and living hurt but he wasn't about to stop, either. |
| The Doctor held him, shifting his hands from Jack's wrists to his waist, pushing him lightly against the wall and taking from the kiss at the same time as he was giving into it, relishing the contact and the warmth and the heady sense of being needed. |
| Jack rotated his wrists when they were freed, then moved them. One to the Doctor's neck, the other to his hips, both warm and strong and confident and calloused. When he was pushed lightly into the wall he stepped his legs out and apart, all of it fluid grace and motion that didn't need thought. Holding the Doctor as much as being held and as that thought flickered, half form impulse and awareness through his brain, his hand on the Doctor's hip moved, under his jacket to find the belt-loop, and hook his fingers through. |
| "I've got you, Jack," he murmured, breaking the kiss and turning it to just holding, arms tight around him. |
| Jack was so tired - and not just because Owen had shot him and his encounter with Abbadon. So tired that there was a moment with something, hysterical laugh or sob, rising in his throat, that he really thought he was going to break, and really didn't think he was going to be able to stop it.
He dropped his head back instead of down, and closed his eyes. He stopped breathing, silently struggling back from the sharp edge of irony, surrender and maybe, just maybe, insanity, and cursing the universe's sense of humor. He stayed quiet, stayed still and made himself loosen his grip on the Doctor, just enough to be touching and holding, instead of clutching. When he eventually let that breath out, it was far from steady. When he opened his eyes they were bright with unshed tears, held in check more by wavering willpower than his eyelashes. His grin, though, was still bright. "I'm all right." |
| The Doctor slid his hand up to the back of Jack's neck, curling around so his thumb as pressing over Jack's pulse, "Yeah?" |
| Jack thought the Doctor was doing this on purpose.
The pressure against his pulse could have been threatening, could have made him jump and snarl, again. It didn't. It was too casual, too familiar, and too gentle. And he Knew the Doctor, even if the Doctor didn't know him. And his faith in the Doctor might have been shaken, but it was far from obliterated. His pulse lurched, a little, and his breath caught, but neither sped up. In fact, they both slowed down. Under the Doctor's hand the tightness in his neck and shoulders increased, half-a-fraction and for less than half a second, then reversed itself and eased. Jack closed his eyes, after that moment of response and murmured. "I've been worse." |
| "That's something at least," he stroked Jack's waist with his other hand, "I've got you." |
| Jack made a low sound at the hand on his waist, his stomach tightening a little in just pure physical enjoyment. "Do you know what you're doing to me?" he asked, as his eyes opened again. |
| "Holding on?" he offered. |
| "Get your hand away from my throat," he said, voice soft and easy, but steady. "Unless you really want me on my knees and your cock down it." |
| "Wouldn't do any good, that part's pretty much nonfunctional," he said cheerfully, but he slid his hand into Jack's hair. |
| Jack tilted his head back, and took a slow, deep breath. "I think that's called shock." |
| "Wouldn't doubt it." He kissed Jack throat. |
| Jack let go of the belt-loop, slid his hand up under the Doctor's coat to his back, palm splayed wide and covering as much area as he could. He made a soft sound at the kiss against his throat. "Come here," he said, and pulled gently. |
| "I don't know how much closer I can come," he said wryly. |
| "It was rhetroic. You've maybe heard of it?" |
| "Nope, you know those Greeks. Funny ideas," he did move tighter in against Jack though. |
| Jack oomphed and curled his fingers in the Doctor's jumper. "I'm a big fan of funny Greek ideas." |
| "That was really, really bad, Jack," he snorted though and understood why he'd liked, (would like) this man. |
| "What? You've never wondered why they really invented olive oil?" He nuzzled the Doctor's throat, affectionately. |
| "I'm pretty sure for cooking, actually," he tugged Jack's hair. |
| He bit lightly at the Doctor's shoulder, teeth catching in leather. "I hope so," he admitted, with a casual, light laugh. "It's really horrible lube. One mistake and someone's got their head embedded in a wall." |
| "Is that personal experience speakin'?" |
| "Personal experience and a smidge of exaggeration, maybe." He grinned, a little. |
| He snorted, pulling back slightly, but stilll holding onto Jack, "Come on, you need some water." |
| "...How did you know that?" |
| "You got teary." he shrugged, "And emotional. Means you need water and cool down." |
| "It's been a rough couple of days." He paused, stretched and gathered himself. "Water's a good idea." Not what he'd meant to say, but it would do. |
| "Then some sleep," he slung an arm around Jack's shoulders.
Jack reassured him in a lot of ways that made him intensely protective of the other man. The Doctor was going to live. He was still going to do some stupid things, hurt people. But he was going to do enough good that this man that he hurt still trust him somehow. That was a gift to a man who didn't trust himself anymore. |
| Jack put his arm around the Doctor's back, and went back inside with him. Leaning slightly, and ready to finally actually *get* that sleep, maybe, if not quite ready to let the Doctor go again.
"I will. You're staying with me." |
| "Planned on it," he nodded, keeping hold of Jack and leading him to a room. |
| Jack started taking his coat off and paused. "Wait, what?" |
| "What?" |
| "You planned on staying?" |
| "I think you're overestimating my willinginess to let you out of my sight." |
| "...Why don't you want to let me out of your sight?" he asked, carefully, and finished taking his coat off and laying it over a chair. |
| "Because you're the first thing that's gone right in a long time." |
| He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Come here. Really this time, not rhetroic." |
| The Doctor toed off his shoes and slipped off his (Fitz's, it's still Fitz's) jacket before sitting on the edge of the bed with Jack. |
| Jack unlaced his boots and left them at the edge of the bed, then sat up and unbuttoned his outter shirt. When he took it off, the suspenders got pushed down. He tood up to drop the shirt over a chair, then turned and looked back at the Doctor. "This is actually pretty awkward." |
| "Why?" The Doctor stretched out on his side, watching Jack. |
| "History," he said simply, walked back and crawled onto the bed and stretched out, facing the Doctor close but not quite touching, far enough back to be able to look at him. |
| "For you," he agreed, then tugged Jack's hair. |
| He tilted his head with the tug, and his eyes half closed. "It wouldn't be awkward otherwise," he said, dryly. |
| "What would it be then?" he asked casually. |
| He lifted his hand and curled it around the side of the Doctor's face, thumb stroking down the imperfect bridge of his nose. "We'd both be a less afraid, mostly. I think." |
| "What are you afraid of?" |
| "Not getting back in time to save the world. Not being able to save the world. Not having answers, and what those answers just might be. Letting you go. Never seeing you like this again. That something will happen and it will stop me ever having seen you at all. Dying and never being able to die, and living. Pretty much everything right now. I'll get over it." |
| "No you won't," he smiled, "but you'll get through it."
He tugged Jack in against him, holding him. |
| Jack growled at being tugged in, and pushed with the roll so he landed on top of the Doctor. "Same difference. Now tell me what you're scared of." |
| "Whole universe of things, but right now that you're goin' to be yammering on instead of getting sleep. You've got bags under your eyes and it's makin' you less pretty then I bet you usually are." |
| "Don't make me hit you again." He snorted and then slid off the other side of the Doctor, but just slightly, so he was wedged beside him, his back against the wall. He knew, damn well the proper response here was to give up, let go and sleep. He was, at least, safe. He was also too exhausted to fight his eyes closing. That didn't mean the impulse wasn't there.
He stayed lightly drapped over the Doctor, one arm and one leg, but he didn't cling or even hang on. Didn't let himself, wouldn't let himself. Just kept his hand splayed across the Doctor's chest so he could feel both his hearts beating against his fingertips, closed his eyes and told himself that if even if it was all in his head, dream or hallucination or wishful thinking, it didn't matter. He'd needed this, and, for a little while, he'd had it. |
| The Doctor covered Jack's hand with his own, tangled their legs together, closed his eyes and held on. He muttered, once, "Why do I haveta be the little spoon," but it was mostly teasing. |
| "Because," Jack mumbled, softly. "If your crotch and my ass get anywhere near each other, I'm going to errupt in flames." |
| "Good argument," the Doctor allowed, "Go to sleep, Jack." |
| Jack lifted the Doctor's hand to his mouth, and kissed his wrist. "Stop being afraid of sex, Doctor." |
| "I said it's broken, not that I'm afraid." |
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