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emerald_embersTitle: What Do You Think?
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Jack Harkness/Tenth Doctor, references to Simm Master/Tenth Doctor
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1397
Summary: No one's got the hang of mourning.
Jack opened the door and even though smirking would have been so easy he wasn't an idiot and didn't like being cruel. "Thought you'd be visiting."
The Doctor walked in, still very obviously unsettled by the idea of something permanent in the universe but no longer showing the distaste he'd been unable to hide when they first met up again.
"No Martha?"
"She stayed behind, she had to."
"Did she?" Jack made no attempt to cover up his being unimpressed at Martha for that turn of events, not when it meant leaving the Doctor to get over the Master alone. Still, at least it wasn't Rose - not that she ever would have, but if Rose left him after something like this?
He breathed out slowly to stop himself getting pissed off enough to warrant a scolding just for looking too angry. "What's up?" He could have added a 'Doc' at the end, but got the feeling this really wasn't the time. No reply meant trouble, though he had a few moments to work out exactly what kind of trouble he was dealing with.
Skinny arms around his waist and the Doctor's face pressed into his neck wasn't in the top ten realistically expected kinds of trouble he had thought up. Nice enough surprise though if he considered it objectively.
"Er?"
"I wanted to hold something that won't die."
"Fair enough." Typical that he only started wanting to die once he realised he couldn't. This wasn't exactly a situation he'd had in mind whenever he'd pictured having the Doctor in his arms, but he couldn't complain.
"Jack. Hands." He'd thought he might get a scolding for letting them slip lower to be fair, but sighed anyway as he turned it into an honest hug. Watching the Doctor break down over the Master's death had been too weird - not that there was anything wrong with crying, just that it was pretty scary from an immortal point of view to think hundreds of years weren't enough to stop loss hurting. He'd had to look away quickly to try and cope with what he'd seen.
"Not going to do anything drastic are you?"
"What would be the point?"
"Shut up," Jack replied, not snapping because he knew exactly where giving into the drama would get them. "That's not a real answer."
Seemed that though the Doctor wasn't happy to let hands slip down, moving one up to cradle his head was acceptable, and Jack leant into the hug a little more, knowing how easy it was to envelop the Doctor in this form. Height differences didn't matter, but the slightness did, making Jack seem almost chunky in comparison.
"Do you think the drums stopped?"
"I don't care." Jack knew perfectly well the Doctor hadn't come for answers; if Time Lords hadn't pinned down the art of mourning then chances were that nobody was ever going to. Bottling up, letting it all out, dealing, denying, everyone did things differently and as intimately acquainted with death as he was himself, Jack still couldn't say what was the right or wrong way to cope with it.
"Why didn't I see her?" Oh no, that sounded a lot like tears in his voice. Jack kept his eyes averted just in case.
"He probably made sure you didn't! He let himself die just because he knew it'd upset you. Hell, he probably had it all planned out for maximum effect!" Jack grit his teeth, forced himself down off the metaphorical soapbox, pressed his lips into the Doctor's hair. No comment at that, probably because it really was innocent, but it still felt wrong to have the Doctor be so still and quiet when he was used to having him be outright vibrant, sometimes psychotically so. Go figure - maybe there was an unwritten law somewhere saying the mightier the race, the crazier its people. "Shh." It slipped out without him thinking it, just a generic soothing noise, and while watching his breath ruffle the Doctor's hair he wondered if it'd really be asking too much if he persuaded the Doctor out of the draughty hallway so they could at least sit down.
Funny how the Doctor could keep a vice-like grip even when asleep. Kind of uncomfortable to boot, given he was pretty heavy to have resting against one's chest. Jack wondered for a while whether he should risk waking the Doctor by moving; an hour of dead legs and slightly difficult breathing proved enough of a while, and he figured it was probably best to leave the Doctor lying asleep on the floor than to move him and get a confused telling off later.
A lucid moment mid-dreaming made him very thankful he'd not stayed cuddled up with the Doctor to sleep, given said dreams mostly involved creative ways of the Doctor looking after the Master. And visa versa. And at one point the laser screwdriver got involved too, which he couldn't exactly complain about although he severely doubted the real device had a vibrate function.
Morning arrived and while he was a little disappointed the Doctor hadn't snuck in alongside him during the night, Jack couldn't honestly claim to be surprised. It was quite nice walking into the living room and finding the Doctor still sprawled out and snoring away in front of the fire; God only knew what the gas bill would look like but it was worth it for the view presented now.
Jack gnawed on a thumbnail for want of something more useful to do than stalkerishly look over the sleeping Doctor, waited for an idea to come to him.
Pancakes?" half-yawned the Doctor as he blinked owlishly at the plate set in front of him, totally unaware of how half his face currently wore an imprint of Jack's carpet.
"Yup. Only golden syrup though, nowhere around here sells maple."
"England does things differently," acknowledged the Doctor before sitting up, rolling a pancake around a small pool of syrup and taking a bite. Jack tucked into his own quickly enough so that he didn't have to look at the syrup dripping off the end of the Doctor's pancake onto skinny fingers. "Oh, Jack, wow," gasped the Doctor reverently in a voice that did cruel things to Jack's innards. "These are amazing."
"You can learn a lot about cooking in a century."
"Mmph. I'd - mm." Apparently whatever attempt at conversation that had been about to be was unimportant compared with pancake-eating. "So. How is immortality coming along for you?"
"Good! Good - better when I don't have to talk about it."
"Fair enough."
Jack made a point of becoming interested in his pancakes when the Doctor smiled. This form was definitely far, far too molestable to be going around with a smile like that - half of you started wondering when the rainbows and unicorns were going to materialise.
"I'm not staying."
"I know," Jack replied, trying not to let too much 'well duh' into his voice. "Besides, if we're in two different places we can do twice as much world-saving, right?"
The Doctor nodded, expression wistful for a moment as he moved closer so their legs were touching and Jack bit his lip. If some sort of divine force existed then he sure should be getting thanks for being a good boy later seeing as he'd still managed not to jump his guest. "I don't get you, Jack. I don't think I'll ever be entirely comfortable around you."
"You fell asleep fine," Jack replied with a half-grin, let the Doctor shush him with a look and carry on.
"But thanks for letting me stay."
"No problem. As long as you're in this dimension you'll always be welcome." Okay, he'd been good enough, nothing wrong with making his expression a bit more lascivious. "Stick with the gorgeous bodies and you'll be welcome to a good snog anytime too."
"I'll remember that."
Jack stood with the Doctor, followed him to the door. "Don't be a stranger."
"I don't think I have much of a choice," the Doctor replied with a grin that spoke volumes Jack wasn't entirely sure he wanted to hear and a farewell wave. He definitely looked perkier; enough that Jack didn't feel gut-wrenchingly guilty on closing the door at least.
Guess it went to show - a good cry could do anyone a world of good.
The End
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Jack Harkness/Tenth Doctor, references to Simm Master/Tenth Doctor
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1397
Summary: No one's got the hang of mourning.
Jack opened the door and even though smirking would have been so easy he wasn't an idiot and didn't like being cruel. "Thought you'd be visiting."
The Doctor walked in, still very obviously unsettled by the idea of something permanent in the universe but no longer showing the distaste he'd been unable to hide when they first met up again.
"No Martha?"
"She stayed behind, she had to."
"Did she?" Jack made no attempt to cover up his being unimpressed at Martha for that turn of events, not when it meant leaving the Doctor to get over the Master alone. Still, at least it wasn't Rose - not that she ever would have, but if Rose left him after something like this?
He breathed out slowly to stop himself getting pissed off enough to warrant a scolding just for looking too angry. "What's up?" He could have added a 'Doc' at the end, but got the feeling this really wasn't the time. No reply meant trouble, though he had a few moments to work out exactly what kind of trouble he was dealing with.
Skinny arms around his waist and the Doctor's face pressed into his neck wasn't in the top ten realistically expected kinds of trouble he had thought up. Nice enough surprise though if he considered it objectively.
"Er?"
"I wanted to hold something that won't die."
"Fair enough." Typical that he only started wanting to die once he realised he couldn't. This wasn't exactly a situation he'd had in mind whenever he'd pictured having the Doctor in his arms, but he couldn't complain.
"Jack. Hands." He'd thought he might get a scolding for letting them slip lower to be fair, but sighed anyway as he turned it into an honest hug. Watching the Doctor break down over the Master's death had been too weird - not that there was anything wrong with crying, just that it was pretty scary from an immortal point of view to think hundreds of years weren't enough to stop loss hurting. He'd had to look away quickly to try and cope with what he'd seen.
"Not going to do anything drastic are you?"
"What would be the point?"
"Shut up," Jack replied, not snapping because he knew exactly where giving into the drama would get them. "That's not a real answer."
Seemed that though the Doctor wasn't happy to let hands slip down, moving one up to cradle his head was acceptable, and Jack leant into the hug a little more, knowing how easy it was to envelop the Doctor in this form. Height differences didn't matter, but the slightness did, making Jack seem almost chunky in comparison.
"Do you think the drums stopped?"
"I don't care." Jack knew perfectly well the Doctor hadn't come for answers; if Time Lords hadn't pinned down the art of mourning then chances were that nobody was ever going to. Bottling up, letting it all out, dealing, denying, everyone did things differently and as intimately acquainted with death as he was himself, Jack still couldn't say what was the right or wrong way to cope with it.
"Why didn't I see her?" Oh no, that sounded a lot like tears in his voice. Jack kept his eyes averted just in case.
"He probably made sure you didn't! He let himself die just because he knew it'd upset you. Hell, he probably had it all planned out for maximum effect!" Jack grit his teeth, forced himself down off the metaphorical soapbox, pressed his lips into the Doctor's hair. No comment at that, probably because it really was innocent, but it still felt wrong to have the Doctor be so still and quiet when he was used to having him be outright vibrant, sometimes psychotically so. Go figure - maybe there was an unwritten law somewhere saying the mightier the race, the crazier its people. "Shh." It slipped out without him thinking it, just a generic soothing noise, and while watching his breath ruffle the Doctor's hair he wondered if it'd really be asking too much if he persuaded the Doctor out of the draughty hallway so they could at least sit down.
Funny how the Doctor could keep a vice-like grip even when asleep. Kind of uncomfortable to boot, given he was pretty heavy to have resting against one's chest. Jack wondered for a while whether he should risk waking the Doctor by moving; an hour of dead legs and slightly difficult breathing proved enough of a while, and he figured it was probably best to leave the Doctor lying asleep on the floor than to move him and get a confused telling off later.
A lucid moment mid-dreaming made him very thankful he'd not stayed cuddled up with the Doctor to sleep, given said dreams mostly involved creative ways of the Doctor looking after the Master. And visa versa. And at one point the laser screwdriver got involved too, which he couldn't exactly complain about although he severely doubted the real device had a vibrate function.
Morning arrived and while he was a little disappointed the Doctor hadn't snuck in alongside him during the night, Jack couldn't honestly claim to be surprised. It was quite nice walking into the living room and finding the Doctor still sprawled out and snoring away in front of the fire; God only knew what the gas bill would look like but it was worth it for the view presented now.
Jack gnawed on a thumbnail for want of something more useful to do than stalkerishly look over the sleeping Doctor, waited for an idea to come to him.
Pancakes?" half-yawned the Doctor as he blinked owlishly at the plate set in front of him, totally unaware of how half his face currently wore an imprint of Jack's carpet.
"Yup. Only golden syrup though, nowhere around here sells maple."
"England does things differently," acknowledged the Doctor before sitting up, rolling a pancake around a small pool of syrup and taking a bite. Jack tucked into his own quickly enough so that he didn't have to look at the syrup dripping off the end of the Doctor's pancake onto skinny fingers. "Oh, Jack, wow," gasped the Doctor reverently in a voice that did cruel things to Jack's innards. "These are amazing."
"You can learn a lot about cooking in a century."
"Mmph. I'd - mm." Apparently whatever attempt at conversation that had been about to be was unimportant compared with pancake-eating. "So. How is immortality coming along for you?"
"Good! Good - better when I don't have to talk about it."
"Fair enough."
Jack made a point of becoming interested in his pancakes when the Doctor smiled. This form was definitely far, far too molestable to be going around with a smile like that - half of you started wondering when the rainbows and unicorns were going to materialise.
"I'm not staying."
"I know," Jack replied, trying not to let too much 'well duh' into his voice. "Besides, if we're in two different places we can do twice as much world-saving, right?"
The Doctor nodded, expression wistful for a moment as he moved closer so their legs were touching and Jack bit his lip. If some sort of divine force existed then he sure should be getting thanks for being a good boy later seeing as he'd still managed not to jump his guest. "I don't get you, Jack. I don't think I'll ever be entirely comfortable around you."
"You fell asleep fine," Jack replied with a half-grin, let the Doctor shush him with a look and carry on.
"But thanks for letting me stay."
"No problem. As long as you're in this dimension you'll always be welcome." Okay, he'd been good enough, nothing wrong with making his expression a bit more lascivious. "Stick with the gorgeous bodies and you'll be welcome to a good snog anytime too."
"I'll remember that."
Jack stood with the Doctor, followed him to the door. "Don't be a stranger."
"I don't think I have much of a choice," the Doctor replied with a grin that spoke volumes Jack wasn't entirely sure he wanted to hear and a farewell wave. He definitely looked perkier; enough that Jack didn't feel gut-wrenchingly guilty on closing the door at least.
Guess it went to show - a good cry could do anyone a world of good.
The End
