Of Flashy Drinks and Blue Eyed Captains. (Star Trek/Torchwood, Jack Harkness/James Kirk)
Title: Of Flashy Drinks and Blue Eyed Captains.
Fandom: Star Trek/Torchwood.
Warnings: Nothing, really.
Characters/couples: Jack Harkness/James T. Kirk.
Summary: Bones would really have Kirk's ass if he gets poisoned because he accepted a drink from a leggy humanoid
Rating: PG13.
Notes: Written for cliche_bingo: Simply irresistible: Sex god (or goddess)
I want to say that I DID intend to write sex for this, but as my Jack-voice is still very much CoE-traumatized, and since I really didn't fancy this prompt turning bittersweet, I left it like that.
Of Flashy Drinks and Blue Eyed Captains.
The drink is equal parts blue and gold, and James is pretty sure that in Standard the name means something close to 'Warmth Under Your Skin'. He looks around as the waiter's pincer points towards whoever it was who sent the drink - as a captain he oughts to be careful, and Bones would really have his ass if he gets poisoned because he accepted a drink from a leggy humanoid, for not mentioning that Spock and Uhura will be all 'Told You So' and, really, there's nothing equivalent to the Vulcan 'Told You So' to feel two inches tall.
James was expecting, more or less, a humanoid female, even possibly someone from a human colony, since experience so far has taught him that most of the times it's humans (or at least, cultures that had taken a lot from humans) the ones that use flashy drinks like this to flirt and hook-up.
Humanoid it is but - at least from as far as he can see, considering the fact that the other person is wearing clothes - he is also very much male. Attractive as well, even if he is older than him, wearing an extremely old fashioned military trench coat and an easy grin, even as he raises his glass in a silent toast. James grins back - because, really, why not - and he picks up the drink and takes a swig. He knows it's most likely not cinnamon on his tongue, but it still sparks like a gentle fire in his stomach. Warmth under your skin indeed.
With that, the man picks up his own drink - it seems like scotch, from the glass and the golden color of the booze - and he nods towards one of the empty chairs.
“Is this seat taken?”
“I don't know,” he shrugs, but his smile is still there. He picks up his glass to take another sip of the drink. “Is it?”
The man laughs before he moves the chair to sit, way closer than one usually should. Subtle, he is not. But he offers his hand (definitely from a human background) and as they shake hands, he keeps his hand in his own (calloused and strong) hand just for a spell longer than he should.
“Captain Jack Harkness,” he says with the same easy grin and a wink of bright blue eyes.
James raises an eyebrow. “Captain James T. Kirk,” his jacket is done up, covering his gold shirt, bur Harkness' coat is open and he's wearing a civilian blue shirt, two buttons open at the collar. Somehow James knows that he's the kind of captain that he would have heard about, was he in Starfleet. And yet, he asks, because there is something that speaks military about Harkness, about having looked at half the universe up close and just waiting for the other half.
“Are you a member of Starfleet?”
Harkness chuckles. “Different army. Though I do love a man in uniform,” he adds with a leer.
James grins, and he can bet the face that McCoy would do if he was looking at him.
“Are you from Earth?” he asks, curious. The way he talks and moves. The accent is familiar as well, and he finds himself wondering about Harkness and his personal story. It's not something he usually does for his one night stands (not that he has had many of those, lately: he does not regret the way his life has changed since he became captain of the Enterprise, but he also thinks that sometimes a man needs a partner that is not his own hand). But there is an air of mystery to Harkness that he finds intriguing, and mysteries? Those, he does like.
Harkness shrugs, a twist to his mouth as he downs his scotch. “I'm not really from anywhere these days. Though it was the last planet I was for longer than a few weeks. But even that feels like a lifetime ago.”
“You're a long way from home, Harkness,” James says, sliding closer, smiling, knowing it's completely a pick up phrase, but Harkness seems like the kind of man who likes those.
But it doesn't quite work the way he expected. For a moment, instead of the casual laugh and the leering he pretty much expected Harkness to do, there's something dark and terribly devastating in Harkness' eyes, something that he has seen in the older Spock's eyes, when he visits him. It speaks of worlds destroyed, friends gone, your own life lost in ways you will never be able to explain.
It doesn't last for longer than a few seconds, but it speaks more for Harkness when he actually laughs and leers as James had expected him to.
“Are you going to take me home, then? Captain?” he asks, completely recovered, with a smile as he leans closer. And James suddenly realizes that he is pretty much going to have sex with a man whose ego might be just as big as his. He can imagine Uhura's horror at the idea of another ego like his existing perfectly.
James grins. But, then again. Why not?
Fandom: Star Trek/Torchwood.
Warnings: Nothing, really.
Characters/couples: Jack Harkness/James T. Kirk.
Summary: Bones would really have Kirk's ass if he gets poisoned because he accepted a drink from a leggy humanoid
Rating: PG13.
Notes: Written for cliche_bingo: Simply irresistible: Sex god (or goddess)
I want to say that I DID intend to write sex for this, but as my Jack-voice is still very much CoE-traumatized, and since I really didn't fancy this prompt turning bittersweet, I left it like that.
Of Flashy Drinks and Blue Eyed Captains.
The drink is equal parts blue and gold, and James is pretty sure that in Standard the name means something close to 'Warmth Under Your Skin'. He looks around as the waiter's pincer points towards whoever it was who sent the drink - as a captain he oughts to be careful, and Bones would really have his ass if he gets poisoned because he accepted a drink from a leggy humanoid, for not mentioning that Spock and Uhura will be all 'Told You So' and, really, there's nothing equivalent to the Vulcan 'Told You So' to feel two inches tall.
James was expecting, more or less, a humanoid female, even possibly someone from a human colony, since experience so far has taught him that most of the times it's humans (or at least, cultures that had taken a lot from humans) the ones that use flashy drinks like this to flirt and hook-up.
Humanoid it is but - at least from as far as he can see, considering the fact that the other person is wearing clothes - he is also very much male. Attractive as well, even if he is older than him, wearing an extremely old fashioned military trench coat and an easy grin, even as he raises his glass in a silent toast. James grins back - because, really, why not - and he picks up the drink and takes a swig. He knows it's most likely not cinnamon on his tongue, but it still sparks like a gentle fire in his stomach. Warmth under your skin indeed.
With that, the man picks up his own drink - it seems like scotch, from the glass and the golden color of the booze - and he nods towards one of the empty chairs.
“Is this seat taken?”
“I don't know,” he shrugs, but his smile is still there. He picks up his glass to take another sip of the drink. “Is it?”
The man laughs before he moves the chair to sit, way closer than one usually should. Subtle, he is not. But he offers his hand (definitely from a human background) and as they shake hands, he keeps his hand in his own (calloused and strong) hand just for a spell longer than he should.
“Captain Jack Harkness,” he says with the same easy grin and a wink of bright blue eyes.
James raises an eyebrow. “Captain James T. Kirk,” his jacket is done up, covering his gold shirt, bur Harkness' coat is open and he's wearing a civilian blue shirt, two buttons open at the collar. Somehow James knows that he's the kind of captain that he would have heard about, was he in Starfleet. And yet, he asks, because there is something that speaks military about Harkness, about having looked at half the universe up close and just waiting for the other half.
“Are you a member of Starfleet?”
Harkness chuckles. “Different army. Though I do love a man in uniform,” he adds with a leer.
James grins, and he can bet the face that McCoy would do if he was looking at him.
“Are you from Earth?” he asks, curious. The way he talks and moves. The accent is familiar as well, and he finds himself wondering about Harkness and his personal story. It's not something he usually does for his one night stands (not that he has had many of those, lately: he does not regret the way his life has changed since he became captain of the Enterprise, but he also thinks that sometimes a man needs a partner that is not his own hand). But there is an air of mystery to Harkness that he finds intriguing, and mysteries? Those, he does like.
Harkness shrugs, a twist to his mouth as he downs his scotch. “I'm not really from anywhere these days. Though it was the last planet I was for longer than a few weeks. But even that feels like a lifetime ago.”
“You're a long way from home, Harkness,” James says, sliding closer, smiling, knowing it's completely a pick up phrase, but Harkness seems like the kind of man who likes those.
But it doesn't quite work the way he expected. For a moment, instead of the casual laugh and the leering he pretty much expected Harkness to do, there's something dark and terribly devastating in Harkness' eyes, something that he has seen in the older Spock's eyes, when he visits him. It speaks of worlds destroyed, friends gone, your own life lost in ways you will never be able to explain.
It doesn't last for longer than a few seconds, but it speaks more for Harkness when he actually laughs and leers as James had expected him to.
“Are you going to take me home, then? Captain?” he asks, completely recovered, with a smile as he leans closer. And James suddenly realizes that he is pretty much going to have sex with a man whose ego might be just as big as his. He can imagine Uhura's horror at the idea of another ego like his existing perfectly.
James grins. But, then again. Why not?