Fic: Stolen Time
Rating: R
Pairing: Jack/Jack
Other:Spoilers for 1.12 and 1.13, un-betad, 1830 words
AU, what might have been
“Jack, Jack, we need to get out!” Tosh screamed as she ran for the now wide-open rift.
Jack couldn’t move. Rooted to the spot, he saw hurt, longing and then acceptance flicker through the eyes of his counterpart.
“Jack you have to,” Tosh yelled, invisible within the fog of the rift. “We need you,” she pleaded.
“I have to go. It’s my duty.” Jack willed himself to walk away and not look back. But as the mist began to shroud him, he found it was impossible. He was going to say goodbye. Make sure that this Jack’s last night on earth was the best ever.
He turned around, walked back to the real Jack and pulled him into a kiss. The rest of the world seemed too shocked to move, and to Jack it had ceased to exist the moment his hands had touched the other Jack’s face.
Seconds ticked past, while mist surrounded them, letting them say an all to final farewell.
As quickly as it had appeared, the mist fell away, and the bright light disappeared. The rift had slammed shut, leaving Jack behind. 70 years away from home for a kiss with a condemned man. Nothing had ever been more worth it.
The closing of the rift had suddenly broken the spell that had fallen over the Ritz dancehall, and a low murmur was beginning to rise. The sight of two men, two officers kissing so passionately, wasn’t the most welcome sight.
Jack forced himself to open his eyes and move from where he stood, arms wrapped tightly around his counterpart, foreheads rested together.
“We should,” his voice cracked. He licked his lips, and cleared his throat. “We should go. I don’t want to…” Jack paused. “We should go somewhere more private.” He couldn’t keep the wicked grin off his face or out of his voice.
The real Jack Harkness pulled back and stared. He smiled more shyly than his previous behaviour would have suggested possible. Then he grabbed Jack’s hand and began to stride purposefully out of the dancehall, pulling a very willing man behind him.
“What the hell are you doing, sir?” One of the boys demanded.
Both Jacks simply ignored him.
Once they were outside in the crisp night air, Jack suddenly couldn’t stop himself from bursting into helpless laughter. It was as though suddenly the enormity of the situation caught up with him and he could either laugh or cry. And he wasn’t about to cry in front of the man he hoped to share a bed with that night.
He dropped otherJack, realJack’s hand, and leaning his hands on his knees bent double in helpless, totally mirthless laughter.
“James? Are you ok, pal?” Jack looked concerned. “Are you drunk?” He looked slightly incredulous.
Pulling himself together as much as he could, Jack looked slightly sardonic. “Jack, I’m not so much of a cheap date that I get drunk off water!” Suddenly becoming totally serious, he brushed a thumb across his counterpart’s cheekbone. “You’re not drunk either? This is what you want?”
“I want you, James,” came the reply, clouded with need. His eyes drifting closed as Jack continued to lightly stroke his cheek. “There’s, uh, there’s a hotel a couple of blocks from here. We could…”
“Yes, yeah. That would be good.” Jack dropped a soft kiss on his lips, then a harder one, which quickly deepened when Jack felt fingers winding into his hair. He was painfully aware that it wasn’t a gun digging into his hip. 1941 wasn’t the safest place for these kinds of public displays.
Tearing themselves apart, they quickly made their way to the hotel, finding no problem in securing a room, although one with twin beds. That was one advantage of 1941. Nobody seemed to imagine what might happen when two men rented a room together.
But once they were safe and secure inside their room, things ground to a halt. For some unknown reason Jack felt nervous, unsure. He just stood there, looking at the man who he would become, whose life he would steal. He didn’t know if he could take this too; take his last night of life.
It wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter, the thought to himself as he was pushed gently back towards one of the beds. His legs bumping into the end of it, the falling backwards and the hitting of the soft bed covered in the scratchy woolen blanket that he could feel against his bare neck. He was not going to think this, to over-think this. He was going to loose himself in the sensation, to live this like it was his last night on earth, even if that day would never really come for him.
He looked up to see Jack there, still standing in perfect uniform, but with his hair pushed out of place, and his lips bruised and swollen. His eyes twinkled with want, and mischief and humour and just life. He was full of life. He slowly unbuckled the belt of his jacket, then the three buttons. With his jacket open his arousal was very evident. Unable to subvert his military training, he removed his jacket gently and hung it neatly on the back of a rickety wooden chair that stood by the window. His shirt and trousers were removed and dealt with in the same careful manner.
By this time feeling more than a little overdressed, Jack forced himself to look away and concentrate on removing his own clothes. Standing up, he pulled them off as quickly as possible, and dropped them on the floor. His own need for military standards had long since passed.
Now wearing only thin cotton shorts that did little to disguise his arousal, he looked up to see a very naked Captain Jack Harkness standing in front of him. Jack raked his eyes from the messy hair to the bare feet and back again. He’d told Tosh his counterpart was damn hot, but naked he was even better.
“See anything interesting, James?”
Jack smiled and began to remove his shorts, but his hands were almost instantly caught.
“Let me.” He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and began to push them down, exposing creamy skin, sharp hips and a steadily growing erection. As soon as they were down far enough that Jack could step out of them he stood back up and pulled Jack into another kiss.
“God, you’re beautiful Harper.”
Jack stiffened for a moment as he had a horrible flash of Owen, but quickly relaxed into the kiss.
It was deep and hot, and there was a solid body against him, and he could feel his heart racing, and it was alive, all so alive. He was breathless and giddy and just, more than he’d been in such a long time, since he’d been left for dead on the GameStation. He was the Captain Jack Harkness that the Doctor and Rose had met in the Blitz. The man he had become, because the man he was kissing, the man whose insistent cock was pressing against his belly would die tomorrow. This was fucked up. It didn’t stop him wanting it.
Jack pulled away from the kiss and panted harshly. “Oh god, I want you.” He laid his hands on the solid chest in front of him, moving to drag his fingers through the scattering of hair, moving down to where it became a rope leading him to his goal. The stomach muscles underneath his fingers tensed in anticipation, but Jack’s hands just skimmed to the sides and ran over his hips.
“Harper, you’re a fucking tease!” He nipped at Jack’s neck and brushed his hand lightly over Jack’s erection.
Jack gasped, feeling himself grow to full arousal. “Bed, we should, the bed.”
Wide eyed and wanting he roughly pulled the blankets off of one of the beds, and lay back on to it, his head resting on a slightly lumpy pillow. The narrow bed was nowhere near big enough for the two grown men, but the forced closeness was so good. With the American airman covering him like a blanket, teeth nipping at his ear, and rough strong hands jerking him, he knew this wouldn’t last long.
He turned his head and caught Jack’s mouth. Kissing and panting against each other’s mouths, they ground together, the bed shaking and creaking. Hands roamed all over, anywhere they could reach. Needing the connection, needing the life that they could grasp from one another. Needing to feel alive for a moment; the dead man and the immortal man, both alive, so truly alive in these too brief moments.
It didn’t last long. Jack felt his lover stiffen above him, could see his face twisted into a taught smile, and then felt himself follow.
They fell out of the haze quickly, having practicalities to deal with. The only bathroom on the floor was down the hall, so they had to just clean up as best they could with Jack’s discarded t-shirt.
They squeezed themselves back into the bed, not wanting to loose the connection. Jack pulled the American’s head onto his chest, letting it rest there as he combed his fingers through his hair. He listened as the breathing softened, and evened out, letting his partner’s rest pull him close to sleep.
When he woke in the morning, Captain Jack Harkness was already getting dressed. He leaned over and kissed Jack into full wakefulness.
“You are something else, James Harper.” He cupped Jack’s jaw and ghosted his thumb along Jack’s cheekbone. “When’s your leave up?”
It took a moment for Jack to remember his lies from the night before. “Tomorrow.”
“Come back to the Ritz tonight and I can steal you last night of leave.” He bent down and quickly kissed Jack. “I’ll see you tonight, James.” One last kiss and he was gone.
Jack spent the day walking around the city. Taking it all in, feeling like he was home. In a pub near the bay, late in the evening, he heard the inevitable news on the wireless. That Captain Jack Harkness, hero of the Battle of Britain, had been shot down in a dogfight near Bristol, that all of his men had made it home because of his bravery.
Jack drank a brandy in his honour, and made his way to a familiar hidden entrance.
“I need to see your boss,” He told the receptionist, a tidy gray haired woman. “It’s a code 145. I’m Torchwood from about 70 years from now. The rift dropped me here, so I need the cryo-freezing chambers so I can live to my time.” A lie, but a harmless one.
“Of course sir, I’ll take you down to Mr Weston at once.” She paused. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Jack Harkness.” If he kept the name, he’d never forget him. Not that he’d forget him.
Pairing: Jack/Jack
Other:Spoilers for 1.12 and 1.13, un-betad, 1830 words
AU, what might have been
“Jack, Jack, we need to get out!” Tosh screamed as she ran for the now wide-open rift.
Jack couldn’t move. Rooted to the spot, he saw hurt, longing and then acceptance flicker through the eyes of his counterpart.
“Jack you have to,” Tosh yelled, invisible within the fog of the rift. “We need you,” she pleaded.
“I have to go. It’s my duty.” Jack willed himself to walk away and not look back. But as the mist began to shroud him, he found it was impossible. He was going to say goodbye. Make sure that this Jack’s last night on earth was the best ever.
He turned around, walked back to the real Jack and pulled him into a kiss. The rest of the world seemed too shocked to move, and to Jack it had ceased to exist the moment his hands had touched the other Jack’s face.
Seconds ticked past, while mist surrounded them, letting them say an all to final farewell.
As quickly as it had appeared, the mist fell away, and the bright light disappeared. The rift had slammed shut, leaving Jack behind. 70 years away from home for a kiss with a condemned man. Nothing had ever been more worth it.
The closing of the rift had suddenly broken the spell that had fallen over the Ritz dancehall, and a low murmur was beginning to rise. The sight of two men, two officers kissing so passionately, wasn’t the most welcome sight.
Jack forced himself to open his eyes and move from where he stood, arms wrapped tightly around his counterpart, foreheads rested together.
“We should,” his voice cracked. He licked his lips, and cleared his throat. “We should go. I don’t want to…” Jack paused. “We should go somewhere more private.” He couldn’t keep the wicked grin off his face or out of his voice.
The real Jack Harkness pulled back and stared. He smiled more shyly than his previous behaviour would have suggested possible. Then he grabbed Jack’s hand and began to stride purposefully out of the dancehall, pulling a very willing man behind him.
“What the hell are you doing, sir?” One of the boys demanded.
Both Jacks simply ignored him.
Once they were outside in the crisp night air, Jack suddenly couldn’t stop himself from bursting into helpless laughter. It was as though suddenly the enormity of the situation caught up with him and he could either laugh or cry. And he wasn’t about to cry in front of the man he hoped to share a bed with that night.
He dropped otherJack, realJack’s hand, and leaning his hands on his knees bent double in helpless, totally mirthless laughter.
“James? Are you ok, pal?” Jack looked concerned. “Are you drunk?” He looked slightly incredulous.
Pulling himself together as much as he could, Jack looked slightly sardonic. “Jack, I’m not so much of a cheap date that I get drunk off water!” Suddenly becoming totally serious, he brushed a thumb across his counterpart’s cheekbone. “You’re not drunk either? This is what you want?”
“I want you, James,” came the reply, clouded with need. His eyes drifting closed as Jack continued to lightly stroke his cheek. “There’s, uh, there’s a hotel a couple of blocks from here. We could…”
“Yes, yeah. That would be good.” Jack dropped a soft kiss on his lips, then a harder one, which quickly deepened when Jack felt fingers winding into his hair. He was painfully aware that it wasn’t a gun digging into his hip. 1941 wasn’t the safest place for these kinds of public displays.
Tearing themselves apart, they quickly made their way to the hotel, finding no problem in securing a room, although one with twin beds. That was one advantage of 1941. Nobody seemed to imagine what might happen when two men rented a room together.
But once they were safe and secure inside their room, things ground to a halt. For some unknown reason Jack felt nervous, unsure. He just stood there, looking at the man who he would become, whose life he would steal. He didn’t know if he could take this too; take his last night of life.
It wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter, the thought to himself as he was pushed gently back towards one of the beds. His legs bumping into the end of it, the falling backwards and the hitting of the soft bed covered in the scratchy woolen blanket that he could feel against his bare neck. He was not going to think this, to over-think this. He was going to loose himself in the sensation, to live this like it was his last night on earth, even if that day would never really come for him.
He looked up to see Jack there, still standing in perfect uniform, but with his hair pushed out of place, and his lips bruised and swollen. His eyes twinkled with want, and mischief and humour and just life. He was full of life. He slowly unbuckled the belt of his jacket, then the three buttons. With his jacket open his arousal was very evident. Unable to subvert his military training, he removed his jacket gently and hung it neatly on the back of a rickety wooden chair that stood by the window. His shirt and trousers were removed and dealt with in the same careful manner.
By this time feeling more than a little overdressed, Jack forced himself to look away and concentrate on removing his own clothes. Standing up, he pulled them off as quickly as possible, and dropped them on the floor. His own need for military standards had long since passed.
Now wearing only thin cotton shorts that did little to disguise his arousal, he looked up to see a very naked Captain Jack Harkness standing in front of him. Jack raked his eyes from the messy hair to the bare feet and back again. He’d told Tosh his counterpart was damn hot, but naked he was even better.
“See anything interesting, James?”
Jack smiled and began to remove his shorts, but his hands were almost instantly caught.
“Let me.” He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and began to push them down, exposing creamy skin, sharp hips and a steadily growing erection. As soon as they were down far enough that Jack could step out of them he stood back up and pulled Jack into another kiss.
“God, you’re beautiful Harper.”
Jack stiffened for a moment as he had a horrible flash of Owen, but quickly relaxed into the kiss.
It was deep and hot, and there was a solid body against him, and he could feel his heart racing, and it was alive, all so alive. He was breathless and giddy and just, more than he’d been in such a long time, since he’d been left for dead on the GameStation. He was the Captain Jack Harkness that the Doctor and Rose had met in the Blitz. The man he had become, because the man he was kissing, the man whose insistent cock was pressing against his belly would die tomorrow. This was fucked up. It didn’t stop him wanting it.
Jack pulled away from the kiss and panted harshly. “Oh god, I want you.” He laid his hands on the solid chest in front of him, moving to drag his fingers through the scattering of hair, moving down to where it became a rope leading him to his goal. The stomach muscles underneath his fingers tensed in anticipation, but Jack’s hands just skimmed to the sides and ran over his hips.
“Harper, you’re a fucking tease!” He nipped at Jack’s neck and brushed his hand lightly over Jack’s erection.
Jack gasped, feeling himself grow to full arousal. “Bed, we should, the bed.”
Wide eyed and wanting he roughly pulled the blankets off of one of the beds, and lay back on to it, his head resting on a slightly lumpy pillow. The narrow bed was nowhere near big enough for the two grown men, but the forced closeness was so good. With the American airman covering him like a blanket, teeth nipping at his ear, and rough strong hands jerking him, he knew this wouldn’t last long.
He turned his head and caught Jack’s mouth. Kissing and panting against each other’s mouths, they ground together, the bed shaking and creaking. Hands roamed all over, anywhere they could reach. Needing the connection, needing the life that they could grasp from one another. Needing to feel alive for a moment; the dead man and the immortal man, both alive, so truly alive in these too brief moments.
It didn’t last long. Jack felt his lover stiffen above him, could see his face twisted into a taught smile, and then felt himself follow.
They fell out of the haze quickly, having practicalities to deal with. The only bathroom on the floor was down the hall, so they had to just clean up as best they could with Jack’s discarded t-shirt.
They squeezed themselves back into the bed, not wanting to loose the connection. Jack pulled the American’s head onto his chest, letting it rest there as he combed his fingers through his hair. He listened as the breathing softened, and evened out, letting his partner’s rest pull him close to sleep.
When he woke in the morning, Captain Jack Harkness was already getting dressed. He leaned over and kissed Jack into full wakefulness.
“You are something else, James Harper.” He cupped Jack’s jaw and ghosted his thumb along Jack’s cheekbone. “When’s your leave up?”
It took a moment for Jack to remember his lies from the night before. “Tomorrow.”
“Come back to the Ritz tonight and I can steal you last night of leave.” He bent down and quickly kissed Jack. “I’ll see you tonight, James.” One last kiss and he was gone.
Jack spent the day walking around the city. Taking it all in, feeling like he was home. In a pub near the bay, late in the evening, he heard the inevitable news on the wireless. That Captain Jack Harkness, hero of the Battle of Britain, had been shot down in a dogfight near Bristol, that all of his men had made it home because of his bravery.
Jack drank a brandy in his honour, and made his way to a familiar hidden entrance.
“I need to see your boss,” He told the receptionist, a tidy gray haired woman. “It’s a code 145. I’m Torchwood from about 70 years from now. The rift dropped me here, so I need the cryo-freezing chambers so I can live to my time.” A lie, but a harmless one.
“Of course sir, I’ll take you down to Mr Weston at once.” She paused. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Jack Harkness.” If he kept the name, he’d never forget him. Not that he’d forget him.