ADVENT: Breaking (Jack/Ten)
Title: Breaking
Advent No.10
Prompt: Jack/Ten
Requested by: sora_roxas_ven
Notes: Why yes, that is a cameo from Aziraphale and Crowley. I wish I knew what they were doing there, but they just snuck in without telling me.
Disclaimer: Not mine! Just playing with them. I make no money from this and mean only to help spread christmassy joy. Don't sue, or Santa will leave you coal!
On a street in the suburbs of London wasn’t the place he’d thought he’d meet the Doc again, but considering who lived on this street perhaps he shouldn’t have been so surprised to find that familiar figure leaning against a lamppost opposite Martha’s house. Still the thrill of the not entirely pleasant shock was still tingling through fingers that itched with the urge to do something. He wasn’t sure if it was to punch the Time Lord or force him into a harsh kiss; deciding for once that prudence was the better part of valour he tucked his errant hands firmly under his arms as he leant against the freezing metal next to his old friend.
“Perception filter?” He asked conversationally when the other man did nothing to acknowledge his presence. The words seemed to jolt him out of whatever dark thoughts the Doctor had been letting his mind wallow in this time though, and the surprise in his tired gaze got a smile out of the equally tired immortal.
“How’d you know?”
“You’re standing right outside Martha’s window, more or less. Watching her. If you weren’t wearing a perception filter you’d be inside having tea poured down your throat already.”
“And you’re wearing it too.” The Doctor added with a quick twist of his lips that might have been a smile at one time.
“Well, that helped figure it out too.”
They settled into watching Martha for a few minutes in silence, just drinking in the happiness and warmth of that tight little unit that made up the Jones’. There was atrociously off-key singing, lots of laughter even when Martha’s little niece threw something white and gloopy all over her grandmother (getting a bittersweet smile from them both), and lots of other little family rituals. What was clear was just how happy they all were to be together. Somehow this warm scene of familial love was making him feel worse though and with a quick glance at the Doctor Jack guessed it wasn’t doing the other man any good either.
“Wanna get drunk?” He asked finally, pushing away from the lamppost. He’d say goodbye to Martha another time, when her smile wasn’t quite so bright and welcoming; if he had to face that kind of kindness right now he might just break apart and never find all the scattered pieces.
“Oh yes. Very much so.”
~~~~
After much searching they found a bar that wasn’t full of weekend binge drinkers, and wasn’t playing the kind of Christmas pop song that made Jack want to start busting open heads just recently. It wasn’t much of anything really, but it was quiet and dark and the beers the grumpy barmaid shoved at them were icy cold. It felt... comfortable, like an old pair of pyjamas. They found a corner table in a particularly rank corner, and even the acrid smell of dried ale and cleaning fluid was somehow comfortable. Tonight they wouldn’t need the filters to go unnoticed in this place.
“There’s an angel by the bar.” The Doctor murmured, his eyes fixed on a slightly chubby blonde at the bar. One glance and Jack knew he was gayer than the sequins on a drag queen’s Pride parade costume.
“Don’t fucking stare at him then. He’s not bothering us, so let’s not bother him. I’d like to get drunk enough to crawl away and die without having to stop some apocalypse or other. Ok?”
“But he’s getting drunk.” The Doctor protested, watching the being with fascination. “And I think that other fellow’s a demon.”
“If they want to have wild inter-moral monkey love, then more power to them.” Jack growled, diving into his pint glass with an enthusiasm that jarred the Doctor.
“What the hell has gotten into you Captain?”
“Could ask you the same thing. Something’s obviously not right with you.”
They glared at each other for a long moment, angry, lost and defensive in the aftermath of their own personal disasters. When neither of them backed down after a few moments as they usually did, the tension began to build and the angel sent them worried little glances only to be soothed by his friend in the sunglasses with a ‘stay out of it’ touch. Jack and the Doctor were far too caught up in trying to beat the other one down with the sheer force of their glare until finally one of them snapped and reached across the table to grab the other by the coat lapels and crash their mouths together in a violent kiss. When he got over his shock that the Doctor had beaten him to it he reached out to return the favour, using the Time Lord’s tie to yank him into the war of teeth and tongues and lips.
Unlike previous encounters with his most frustrating and elusive friend; there was no affection in this kiss. Nothing but the burn of ice and the sweet promise of a thoughtless oblivion that they both craved more than either could ever admit. Strong hands bruised everywhere they gripped, and the taste of iron exploded into the kiss - one of them was bleeding and Jack didn’t intend to stop to find out which. That required an effort of will he just wasn’t capable of right now. It wasn’t until the Doctor was climbing on top on the small table to take more from him than the kiss could provide that he remembered himself and forced them apart. There was a gasp of mutual breath like the sound an airtight container makes when it’s levered open.
“Need somewhere.” Jack growled.
Now that they weren’t kissing he realised that it was his lips that was bleeding, and it was throbbing insistently, demanding attention it was never going to get. He needed something that wasn’t going to break, someone he didn’t have to worry about being kind to or taking care of. Jack needed the Doctor, and he realised with blinding certainty as he caught the lust-shot gaze that he needed Jack too and probably for the same reason. Well, he thought as the smaller man grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him outside in a rush, wasn’t that a kicker? It was the last thought he had for many happy, violent hours as the Doctor grabbed him by the arms and pushed him hard through the TARDIS doors.
Twin feral growls were the last sounds to escape before she closed the doors for them, just in time to stop an angel and a demon from getting an eyeful.
Advent No.10
Prompt: Jack/Ten
Requested by: sora_roxas_ven
Notes: Why yes, that is a cameo from Aziraphale and Crowley. I wish I knew what they were doing there, but they just snuck in without telling me.
Disclaimer: Not mine! Just playing with them. I make no money from this and mean only to help spread christmassy joy. Don't sue, or Santa will leave you coal!
On a street in the suburbs of London wasn’t the place he’d thought he’d meet the Doc again, but considering who lived on this street perhaps he shouldn’t have been so surprised to find that familiar figure leaning against a lamppost opposite Martha’s house. Still the thrill of the not entirely pleasant shock was still tingling through fingers that itched with the urge to do something. He wasn’t sure if it was to punch the Time Lord or force him into a harsh kiss; deciding for once that prudence was the better part of valour he tucked his errant hands firmly under his arms as he leant against the freezing metal next to his old friend.
“Perception filter?” He asked conversationally when the other man did nothing to acknowledge his presence. The words seemed to jolt him out of whatever dark thoughts the Doctor had been letting his mind wallow in this time though, and the surprise in his tired gaze got a smile out of the equally tired immortal.
“How’d you know?”
“You’re standing right outside Martha’s window, more or less. Watching her. If you weren’t wearing a perception filter you’d be inside having tea poured down your throat already.”
“And you’re wearing it too.” The Doctor added with a quick twist of his lips that might have been a smile at one time.
“Well, that helped figure it out too.”
They settled into watching Martha for a few minutes in silence, just drinking in the happiness and warmth of that tight little unit that made up the Jones’. There was atrociously off-key singing, lots of laughter even when Martha’s little niece threw something white and gloopy all over her grandmother (getting a bittersweet smile from them both), and lots of other little family rituals. What was clear was just how happy they all were to be together. Somehow this warm scene of familial love was making him feel worse though and with a quick glance at the Doctor Jack guessed it wasn’t doing the other man any good either.
“Wanna get drunk?” He asked finally, pushing away from the lamppost. He’d say goodbye to Martha another time, when her smile wasn’t quite so bright and welcoming; if he had to face that kind of kindness right now he might just break apart and never find all the scattered pieces.
“Oh yes. Very much so.”
~~~~
After much searching they found a bar that wasn’t full of weekend binge drinkers, and wasn’t playing the kind of Christmas pop song that made Jack want to start busting open heads just recently. It wasn’t much of anything really, but it was quiet and dark and the beers the grumpy barmaid shoved at them were icy cold. It felt... comfortable, like an old pair of pyjamas. They found a corner table in a particularly rank corner, and even the acrid smell of dried ale and cleaning fluid was somehow comfortable. Tonight they wouldn’t need the filters to go unnoticed in this place.
“There’s an angel by the bar.” The Doctor murmured, his eyes fixed on a slightly chubby blonde at the bar. One glance and Jack knew he was gayer than the sequins on a drag queen’s Pride parade costume.
“Don’t fucking stare at him then. He’s not bothering us, so let’s not bother him. I’d like to get drunk enough to crawl away and die without having to stop some apocalypse or other. Ok?”
“But he’s getting drunk.” The Doctor protested, watching the being with fascination. “And I think that other fellow’s a demon.”
“If they want to have wild inter-moral monkey love, then more power to them.” Jack growled, diving into his pint glass with an enthusiasm that jarred the Doctor.
“What the hell has gotten into you Captain?”
“Could ask you the same thing. Something’s obviously not right with you.”
They glared at each other for a long moment, angry, lost and defensive in the aftermath of their own personal disasters. When neither of them backed down after a few moments as they usually did, the tension began to build and the angel sent them worried little glances only to be soothed by his friend in the sunglasses with a ‘stay out of it’ touch. Jack and the Doctor were far too caught up in trying to beat the other one down with the sheer force of their glare until finally one of them snapped and reached across the table to grab the other by the coat lapels and crash their mouths together in a violent kiss. When he got over his shock that the Doctor had beaten him to it he reached out to return the favour, using the Time Lord’s tie to yank him into the war of teeth and tongues and lips.
Unlike previous encounters with his most frustrating and elusive friend; there was no affection in this kiss. Nothing but the burn of ice and the sweet promise of a thoughtless oblivion that they both craved more than either could ever admit. Strong hands bruised everywhere they gripped, and the taste of iron exploded into the kiss - one of them was bleeding and Jack didn’t intend to stop to find out which. That required an effort of will he just wasn’t capable of right now. It wasn’t until the Doctor was climbing on top on the small table to take more from him than the kiss could provide that he remembered himself and forced them apart. There was a gasp of mutual breath like the sound an airtight container makes when it’s levered open.
“Need somewhere.” Jack growled.
Now that they weren’t kissing he realised that it was his lips that was bleeding, and it was throbbing insistently, demanding attention it was never going to get. He needed something that wasn’t going to break, someone he didn’t have to worry about being kind to or taking care of. Jack needed the Doctor, and he realised with blinding certainty as he caught the lust-shot gaze that he needed Jack too and probably for the same reason. Well, he thought as the smaller man grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him outside in a rush, wasn’t that a kicker? It was the last thought he had for many happy, violent hours as the Doctor grabbed him by the arms and pushed him hard through the TARDIS doors.
Twin feral growls were the last sounds to escape before she closed the doors for them, just in time to stop an angel and a demon from getting an eyeful.