Red Stiletto Woman - PG
Title: Red Stiletto Woman
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC and people who ain't me
Pairings: Gen (River Song, Captain Jack Harkness)
Word Count: 866
Notes: Provides a little link from "The Big Bang" to "Silence in the Library".
"You're Jack Harkness?"
The whiskey at the bar at the end of the universe wasn’t worth the trip, so Jack put it down and swiveled on the barstool to find himself facing an attractive middle-aged human (or human-looking being) with wild blond curls barely contained by complicated silver and bronze metal hair wrap. "I could be."
The woman chuffed and seated herself on the stool next to him. She had nice legs, he noticed, very nice legs and an impressive pair of red stilettos. The toe of which brushed his trousers as she crossed one very nice leg over the other. "So I finally meet the legendary Jack Harkness."
"You seem to have me at a disadvantage," he said, offering her his second most winning smile even as his opposite hand inched closer to the tiny hold-out weapon he kept in the folds of his coat. He'd cut a broad swath across the universe over the years, and while he did have friends, he had far more enemies. Time Agent, con man, companion of the Doctor (however briefly)--those weren't safe occupations.
"Professor River Song," she said, holding out a hand with short but well-manicured nails. "I believe we have several mutual acquaintances."
He kissed it. "Oh really? I'm afraid I haven't met many professors in my line of work. What's your field of study?"
"Archeology, mostly," River said with an equally winning smile. "And you might not have made the acquaintance of many professors, but you are familiar with a certain Doctor."
He could hear the capital in the way she said the title and smiled broadly. It wasn't a winning expression, but it was an honest one. Gwen had told him (last time he'd been in the twenty-first century) that he ought to give honesty more of a try. Good old Gwen--he'd have to pop in and see how she and Rhys and the rugrat were doing…if he could ever get out of here. "Seen him recently? The Doctor, I mean."
"Just left him in 2010. He was attending the wedding of some mutual friends of ours."
"And cutting a ridiculous rug across the dance floor, I bet."
She nodded. "He always did love to dance at weddings. Not that he can dance, really."
Jack snorted and absently took another sip of his drink. He regretted it immediately. Whiskey was supposed to go down smooth, not burn like ingested rocket fuel. "What he lacks in style, he more than makes up for in enthusiasm." How long had it been since the Doctor and Rose had pulled him out of the London Blitz and they'd teased the Doctor about dancing, him and Rose? Too long. Rose was out of reach these days, one parallel universe to the left of them, and the Doctor's face had changed. Maybe several times. Jack was a tiny bit stranded, so it wasn’t like he could keep up with the Doctor and his regenerations.
Professor Song's smile split wide open. "Oh, yes, he does." She reached into the pocket of her coat (a short coat that showed off her very nice butt) and pulled out a rather familiar Vortex Manipulator. "Now, the reason I sought you out wasn't to share stories about the Doctor's skill at dancing but to return this. I got it off a rather unscrupulous fellow and thought you might be needing it back."
It has his Vortex Manipulator--scarred and dinged and most definitely his. He'd thought he'd lost it (along with his lower arm...it was still growing back inside the prosthetic and itched damnably) for good this time. "It still works?" he asked as he accepted it, turning it over and over in his hands. He could hardly believe it had found its way back to him. And here, he’d just been trying to drown his sorrow over being trapped in one time where the only whiskey a man could get tasted like horse piss.
"It brought me here from 2010. Well, with a quick stop over at Station 12 for a change of clothes."
"What do I owe you for the return?" She might be a companion of the Doctor's, but people were still people, the universe over, and there was no such thing as a free lunch.
"Nothing," River said.
"Come on..."
"No, really, he would kill me if he knew I demanded anything from you for it." And there was no question as to who 'he' was. "All right, maybe not 'kill', but certainly give me that look that says he's incredibly disappointed in me..."
"…the one that makes you want to move heaven and Earth to make things right again," Jack finished for her. He reached into his underarm holster, placed his primary weapon on the bar, and slid it over to her. "Here, take this. I'm not leaving a handsome woman like yourself stranded unarmed on this station."
River smirked. "Who said I was unarmed?" But she picked up the gun anyway. "Sonic blaster, very nice."
"It cuts fantastic square holes in almost anything. And if he gives you any shit over it, just tell him 'who looks at a screw driver and thinks 'this could be more sonic!'?’"
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC and people who ain't me
Pairings: Gen (River Song, Captain Jack Harkness)
Word Count: 866
Notes: Provides a little link from "The Big Bang" to "Silence in the Library".
"You're Jack Harkness?"
The whiskey at the bar at the end of the universe wasn’t worth the trip, so Jack put it down and swiveled on the barstool to find himself facing an attractive middle-aged human (or human-looking being) with wild blond curls barely contained by complicated silver and bronze metal hair wrap. "I could be."
The woman chuffed and seated herself on the stool next to him. She had nice legs, he noticed, very nice legs and an impressive pair of red stilettos. The toe of which brushed his trousers as she crossed one very nice leg over the other. "So I finally meet the legendary Jack Harkness."
"You seem to have me at a disadvantage," he said, offering her his second most winning smile even as his opposite hand inched closer to the tiny hold-out weapon he kept in the folds of his coat. He'd cut a broad swath across the universe over the years, and while he did have friends, he had far more enemies. Time Agent, con man, companion of the Doctor (however briefly)--those weren't safe occupations.
"Professor River Song," she said, holding out a hand with short but well-manicured nails. "I believe we have several mutual acquaintances."
He kissed it. "Oh really? I'm afraid I haven't met many professors in my line of work. What's your field of study?"
"Archeology, mostly," River said with an equally winning smile. "And you might not have made the acquaintance of many professors, but you are familiar with a certain Doctor."
He could hear the capital in the way she said the title and smiled broadly. It wasn't a winning expression, but it was an honest one. Gwen had told him (last time he'd been in the twenty-first century) that he ought to give honesty more of a try. Good old Gwen--he'd have to pop in and see how she and Rhys and the rugrat were doing…if he could ever get out of here. "Seen him recently? The Doctor, I mean."
"Just left him in 2010. He was attending the wedding of some mutual friends of ours."
"And cutting a ridiculous rug across the dance floor, I bet."
She nodded. "He always did love to dance at weddings. Not that he can dance, really."
Jack snorted and absently took another sip of his drink. He regretted it immediately. Whiskey was supposed to go down smooth, not burn like ingested rocket fuel. "What he lacks in style, he more than makes up for in enthusiasm." How long had it been since the Doctor and Rose had pulled him out of the London Blitz and they'd teased the Doctor about dancing, him and Rose? Too long. Rose was out of reach these days, one parallel universe to the left of them, and the Doctor's face had changed. Maybe several times. Jack was a tiny bit stranded, so it wasn’t like he could keep up with the Doctor and his regenerations.
Professor Song's smile split wide open. "Oh, yes, he does." She reached into the pocket of her coat (a short coat that showed off her very nice butt) and pulled out a rather familiar Vortex Manipulator. "Now, the reason I sought you out wasn't to share stories about the Doctor's skill at dancing but to return this. I got it off a rather unscrupulous fellow and thought you might be needing it back."
It has his Vortex Manipulator--scarred and dinged and most definitely his. He'd thought he'd lost it (along with his lower arm...it was still growing back inside the prosthetic and itched damnably) for good this time. "It still works?" he asked as he accepted it, turning it over and over in his hands. He could hardly believe it had found its way back to him. And here, he’d just been trying to drown his sorrow over being trapped in one time where the only whiskey a man could get tasted like horse piss.
"It brought me here from 2010. Well, with a quick stop over at Station 12 for a change of clothes."
"What do I owe you for the return?" She might be a companion of the Doctor's, but people were still people, the universe over, and there was no such thing as a free lunch.
"Nothing," River said.
"Come on..."
"No, really, he would kill me if he knew I demanded anything from you for it." And there was no question as to who 'he' was. "All right, maybe not 'kill', but certainly give me that look that says he's incredibly disappointed in me..."
"…the one that makes you want to move heaven and Earth to make things right again," Jack finished for her. He reached into his underarm holster, placed his primary weapon on the bar, and slid it over to her. "Here, take this. I'm not leaving a handsome woman like yourself stranded unarmed on this station."
River smirked. "Who said I was unarmed?" But she picked up the gun anyway. "Sonic blaster, very nice."
"It cuts fantastic square holes in almost anything. And if he gives you any shit over it, just tell him 'who looks at a screw driver and thinks 'this could be more sonic!'?’"