jovialien: The Doctor's Delight (Jack, Eleven) [PG]
Title: The Doctor's Delight
Author: jovialien
Challenge: Summer Holidays 3
Pairing: Jack, Eleven
Rating: PG
Spoilers/warnings: Very slight spoilers for A Good Man Goes to War, spoilers for the Doctor's Wife
Summary: Out of all the bars in all the galaxy, he just had to come walking into Jack's...
Prompt: orange 32 disgust alcohol
Although it sometimes felt like it, looking back on his life, Captain Jack Harkness realised that he hadn't always been a Captain, he hadn't always worked for Torchwood (in whatever incarnation or force for good or evil it became over the centuries) and that he hadn't always been saving the universe or in mortal danger every week.
In fact, when he thought about it, aside from the odd decade spent running cons to build up his reserves, there was one job he kept drifting back to time and time again.
Bartender.
He couldn't resist it. Every time his finances were in need of a top up and his body in need of a break from fire-fights and space battles and danger, he would pack up his things, get on a ship and just go the nearest major port, find the best bar there and start working.
As time passed and the universe expanded, bar-tending became not only a noble profession but a highly lucrative one; the cocktail list alone would often be the size of an old Earth encyclopaedia (if anyone wanted to actually print it out). Learning what would be pleasurable to different species, different taste-buds and, indeed, different digestive systems was a task that became a subtle mix of alchemy, instinct, medical training, experience and, in many cases, a healthy dose of luck.
And whatever Jack was in his many lives, he was a master of the alcoholic arts.
He had the moves, oh yes, honed back long before Tom Cruise had ever picked up a rattle let alone a cocktail shaker. He had the looks, guaranteed to make the bar stools at his side of the bar the most sought after seat in the house. He had the skills to talk to a customer for a mere five minutes and be able to know the perfect drink for them, even if they would never have dreamed of it before. Not since he was mortal had he ever had a customer he couldn't completely satisfy at the first mouthful.
Until tonight.
Jack grinned as he looked around his latest workplace. It was what would once have been called a theme pub back on Earth, and in this case the theme simply was Earth. It was a mess, a mixed up muddle of old Earth memorabilia, antiques, knick knacks and, in more cases than not, junk.
He had been tempted at times to tell the LandCat (he had mistakenly called her the landlady just once; the claws were murder on his back) about the mistakes in her display, that the plastic figurines artfully arrayed over the old brick fireplace (complete with bright purple flames) were in fact toys that had been given away with children's cereals. Or that the symbol of a red heart had actually been considered a token of love and affection and not a terrifying death threat.
But he kept quiet and instead simply enjoyed the place, the chaos evoking so many strange memories and feeling in a very odd way like home, something he hadn't had in very long time. Running his hands along the top of the very old and very stained repliwood bar top, he smiled to himself and rubbed his cloth over a small puddle, catching it before it could stain - not that it would, but still, old habits died hard.
“Jack!”
Very hard.
Looking up, Jack could feel his jaw dropping open as a bustling ball of energy just about contained in a dodgy jacket, fedora, and even dodgier bow tie came practically bouncing into the bar, startling some of the patrons and making a few huddled in one corner start drinking up and head nervously for the door. For some strange reason, the Doctor was always bad for business.
“Of all the gin joints in all the Universe, you had to walk into mine,” Jack muttered under his breath before a delighted grin lit up his face. Tossing down his cloth, he leaped over the bar (the port was thankfully on a planet with what would be considered lower than Earth normal gravity, or that could have been a mistake) and bounded across the few steps to grab the Doctor tight.
“Doctor!” At his loud greeting, Jack was vaguely aware of a few more patrons hastily finishing their drinks and heading for the door. His boss would probably dock his wages later, but right now he didn't care. Hugging the Doctor tight, Jack lifted him off his feet (not something he would really have attempted with his original Doctor, but they had seemed to be getting thinner and lighter ever since then) and spun him round before finally dropping him to the floor again.
Grinning and adjusting his bow tie before his fingers quickly checked on his fedora, the Doctor patted Jack on the shoulders. “Jack, my old friend, what are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” Jack chuckled back, waving his hand up and down his body. He could see it was only now that the Doctor even noticed what he was wearing; the trousers were discreet enough, tight and black and high waisted (some species that didn't reproduce internally had a slight phobia about belly buttons) but his shirt was a sheer fabric, shimmering and pale lilac. The LandCat had bought the fabric to match the fire, but he still hadn't quite worked out what in the logs she used made that purple in the first place.
The bow tie was bright purple, almost eye wateringly bright, but it was still better than the one the Doctor was sporting.
He could see the Doctor's gaze flitting up and down his body, the expression fixed on 'happy but confused', and sighed as he wrapped his hand around the Doctor's elbow and guided him towards the bar. “I work here,” he finally spelled it out for him, steering the Doctor onto a bar stool before heading back to his side of the bar to stand opposite him. “I'm a bartender.”
“Oh. Oh!” The Doctor cried out gleefully, wiggling on his stool in a way that had Jack suddenly worried he was going to fall off it, before he began drumming his fingers on the bar top. “Well that explains it, I had wondered why she brought me here, she's a funny one sometimes, but she does get me where I need to be and what more could I ask for? I mean, it was great when she was human, I miss that a lot, but she's happy now and, well, adventures!”
Jack didn't even pretend to understand most of that, and instead simply smiled and nodded before reaching for a glass.
“So, is the universe ending or is this a social visit?”
“Hmm? Oh social, definitely social, very... sociable, social actually. I'm supposed to be meeting someone here for a drink.”
“Here?” Jack nodded to himself, trying not to feel a slight tinge of jealousy, but at the same time relieved that he wasn't about to get dragged off into some fate worse than death. Again. “When are you meeting them?”
“In a thousand and fifty six years,” the Doctor admitted cheerfully. “At first I thought the TARDIS had just got the date wrong, she's been doing that a bit lately, at first I thought it was because of the cracks and then, well, wibbly, wobbly, timey, wimey, doesn't even seem to cover it any more, I think I need a new phrase. Windy, scary, shocky, life-altering may be closer, or maybe flirty, confusing, revelationary madness-”
Jack cut him off with a wave of his hand, sensing he could be hear all night otherwise. “So, you have a, what, a meeting? In the next century?”
“A date, I think,” the Doctor said, a slight frown on his face. “It's all very confusing, see she already knows me and in a way I already knew her, except not her her, and when I found out who she really was, boom!” He half shouted, waving his hands out from his head as though showing his head exploding. “Big, big shock. And then I ran here, and she ran there, and Amy and Rory ran there, and then we met up again, and then there was a picnic and I think that might count as a date, there was chocolate, does it count as a date if there is chocolate involved?”
Jack chucked, a bemused grin on his face. The Doctor had a girlfriend? This he had to see, even if it meant hanging around in this bar for a thousand and fifty six years. Whilst he had loved the previous Doctors deeply, he was content to just be friends with this one for now, his heart not quite ready for another round of their on off epic relationship quite yet.
Not that he ever would say no to a bonus night though...
“Chocolate making it a date? Depends on how you are serving it.”
“Out of a foil packet,” the Doctor said, frowning again. “Why? How else would you serve it?”
Jack resisted the urge to grab him, drag him back to Jack's place and demonstrate exactly how else you could serve chocolate on a date. Instead he shook his head quickly. “Never mind. So, this date, I take it it was her idea?”
“Yes, at least I think it's a date, she said we should go for a drink sometime and I said when and she said here and I said okay then and she said-”
“Doctor, I get it. So, she asked you out.”
“Yes,” the Doctor admitted, a slightly dark expression on his face. “River does most of the... initiating of that sort of thing. It's quite annoying sometimes.”
Jack couldn't help it, he laughed out loud and leaned over the bar to kiss the Doctor's surprised forehead, sweeping the fedora off his hair and tossing it to the bar as he did so. “You are hopeless.”
“Oi, I'm not! I just... I have a slight problem. About the date. About what she might, you know, expect of me. Drinks,” he said meaningfully, raising his eyebrows at Jack and staring up at him.
Jack dropped back down to his side of the bar and looked at the Doctor curiously. “Expect of you.”
“Exactly, I mean, I may look good for my age but I'm not a young man and she may think I know what I'm doing, but the fact is I don't have a lot of experience with this and I might make a bit of a fool of myself.” He looked so downhearted Jack couldn't help smiling sympathetically.
“Doctor, I know you and I, this you, have never done anything like that, but from what I remember you certainly had the moves.”
“Yes but that was then! Whole new body, new system, new taste-buds!”
“Taste-buds?”
“Yes, I mean, I know what I liked back then but what do I like now? And that's why I need you Jack! You can help me find out!”
Jack froze, part of his mind (okay, his body) screaming at him that he was about to get very, very lucky, and another part of him saying that he had missed something very important in this conversation and that he was going to be the one making an idiot of himself if he didn't start listening more closely.
“I can help you?” He asked slowly.
“Yes! This is perfect in fact, you, me, a bar, we can practice for as long as it takes! I have plenty of credit of course.”
“You want to pay me?” Jack said, suddenly fearing the Doctor thought it was THAT kind of bar. Not that Jack hadn't occasionally frequented such places but still, he had never managed to work there; he had been fired from a couple though for giving away 'the goods' for free.
“Yes! Well, not you, obviously,” the Doctor said digging through his pockets and finally emerging with a credit chit, “the bar I mean. For the alcohol.”
Alcohol.
Taste-buds.
Drinks.
“Drinks!” Jack exclaimed in an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. “You want me to help you find a drink you like!”
“Yes, exactly,” the Doctor said with a curious expression. “Why, what did you think I meant?”
“You know what, it doesn't matter,” Jack said, confident again and back in control. This was his part of the universe, his little corner of his bar and he may not be a Time Lord or even a hero right now, but here he was in charge and he was God as far as any of his customers were concerned. This was what he was good at and he was definitely going to make sure the Doctor left here completely satisfied.
Not that he would have minded satisfying him the other way too...
Grabbing his cocktail shaker, Jack stepped back and considered the vast array of bottles and buttons and spouts lining the wall behind him, some hooked up to actual alcoholic drinks distilled from various berries, plants, grapes, nectar, bodily fluids and even plasma (not for the faint-hearted or, indeed, warm blooded) and others connected to sophisticated replication systems creating a wide variety of other beverages from stored chemical patterns. Being a bartender was more like flying a star ship than anything else, and he could work those liquids like a true pro.
“Doctor, you'd better hang on to your stool and prepare for the best drink of your life.” He knew just the thing, the perfect mix of delicate flavours and strong undercurrents, a truly sophisticated drink for a truly sophisticated being. Bringing the mix together, he shook it up over ice in the old fashioned but still fashionable way before straining it and pouring it into the tall glass on the bar and sliding it towards the Doctor.
“It's orange.”
“I prefer golden amber,” Jack said simply, but he added a slice of something that approximated an orange to the rim of the glass as a final touch. “A subtle blend of 32 different fruits and liquors, strong but with a gentle taste that leaves it always in the memory.” Standing back, he folded his arms across his chest, supremely confident and waiting for the look of bliss and gratitude that would surely follow as the Doctor raised it to his lips and took a healthy swig.
Jack looked up from the spray of a subtle blend of 32 different fruits and liquors, now with added Time Lord saliva, covering the front of his shirt and sighed and he took in the look of disgust on the Doctor's face and the way he was using his fingernails to scrape his tongue before grabbing a napkin from the bar and licking it furiously instead.
Sighing, Jack took the drink back, made a note on the Doctor's bill, and tried again.
**************************************
As he finally waved one very happy, if slightly tipsy, Time Lord off back to his TARDIS, Jack looked at the counter and sighed heavily. Glasses and bottles and umbrellas littered the surface and his fingers ached from shaking, stirring and selecting so many different drinks. His feet hurt, he had been awake for thirty three hours straight and, judging by the way her tail was swishing, her fur all on end, his boss wasn't too happy either.
“That... Man, is bad for business,” she mewled angrily, “he's scared off half of my customers!”
“They'll be back,” Jack said dismissively, starting to load the debris into the cleaning trays, “they always are.”
“But my takings-”
“Are twice what they would normally be,” Jack said, pointing to the till before smiling slightly. “He bought a measure of every single alcohol, juice, nectar and fluid we stock.”
“Everything?” She gasped, her hand rising to her chest and her whiskers quivering. “But how is he still standing?”
“Believe me, if I knew that I'd be doing it myself,” Jack grumbled, stretching out his back.
“So, what did he like in the end?”
Jack grinned to himself as he picked up the only empty glass that the Doctor had left that night and held it up to the light, seriously considering keeping it as a memento. He had worked very hard to get that drink right and he had already programmed it into the cocktail list, a permanent monument to the man who always caused chaos, even when he was just being sociable.
“Check the list, it's under The Doctor's Delight.”
He carried on tidying up as she stalked around the bar, the pad of her bare feet soothing whilst the click of her claws on the list made his back twinge in remembered pain - and maybe a little bit of pleasure too.
“There's no alcohol in this.”
“Yep, its a Shirley Temple alright.” Catching her confused look, he shook his head. “Never mind, anyway it looks like this Doctor doesn't like spirits. At all.”
“So you made him a drink with Old Terran Orangeade, Calparian double cream, chocolate buttons, chilli peppers and- Candy floss?”
“Around the rim only,” Jack confirmed, deciding that the glass was too sticky to keep after all; with that much sugar in it, he would only end up starting a new civilisation if he left it too close to a power source.
“But that, that's against all logic, basic biology, no normal creature alive, including the Sythodan, and they have no taste receptors at all, could ever find THAT appealing!”
“He's no normal creature though,” Jack grinned, putting the last of the glasses in to clean and wiping down the bar before grabbing the Fedora he had stolen from the Doctor and putting it on his head and shrugging. “He's the Doctor.”
********************************************
One thousand and fifty six years later...
River Song grinned at the cute bartender and wondered if it would be bad form to try and get the Doctor to agree to get her back to StormCage a little past her curfew, just to get a bit more time with the gorgeous man. As he turned around to get someone else's drink, she couldn't resist letting her gaze slide down his body, admiring the way his bright blue trousers skimmed over his-
Flicking back to the cocktail list quickly as he turned round, she only half read it, instead trying to work out whether there was enough time to have a good flirt with the bartender before the Doctor arrived-
The Doctor. River Song laughed out loud as her eyes found the cocktail listed and read through the ingredients with a look of amused horror on her face. “Oh, that is so him.”
“What can I get you?” She smiled as the bartender returned his attention to her, shifting on her chair and giving her most winning smile.
“I'll have a Celestial Mindblower and The Doctor's Delight please.”
The Bartender grinned wickedly, his gaze flicking over her in a way that almost seemed too familiar, too knowing, as though he had been waiting for her to walk in and she felt her smile fading a little, confusion replacing it.
“You must be River.”
“Oh, I am sorry,” she said smoothly, holding out her hand, “I travel a lot and don't always meet people in the right order. You are?”
“An old friend of an old friend,” he answered cryptically, before bringing her hand up to his lips to kiss it, his smile broadening. “And I can see I have nothing to worry about, he's in very good hands.”
“Thank you,” she said, confused, but before she could say anything else he hurried off, setting to work on their drinks.
“River!” A voice boomed from behind her and she twisted to see the Doctor bounding over, his grin as infectious as ever as he leaned in close beside her. “We meet again.”
“We certainly do,” she purred back, waiting as he slid into the chair beside her then frowned as she realised their drinks were already there, but the waiter was nowhere to be seen. And on the bar was-
A Fedora.
“My Fedora!” The Doctor exclaimed, grabbing it and placing it on his head, grinning as he turned to face her. “It's my old Fedora, well, it wasn't old when I had it but it is now, cheeky boy, what do you think, I wear a Fedora now, Fedoras are cool.”
Shaking her head slightly, River turned back to her drink and smiled. “Yes dear.”
Author: jovialien
Challenge: Summer Holidays 3
Pairing: Jack, Eleven
Rating: PG
Spoilers/warnings: Very slight spoilers for A Good Man Goes to War, spoilers for the Doctor's Wife
Summary: Out of all the bars in all the galaxy, he just had to come walking into Jack's...
Prompt: orange 32 disgust alcohol
Although it sometimes felt like it, looking back on his life, Captain Jack Harkness realised that he hadn't always been a Captain, he hadn't always worked for Torchwood (in whatever incarnation or force for good or evil it became over the centuries) and that he hadn't always been saving the universe or in mortal danger every week.
In fact, when he thought about it, aside from the odd decade spent running cons to build up his reserves, there was one job he kept drifting back to time and time again.
Bartender.
He couldn't resist it. Every time his finances were in need of a top up and his body in need of a break from fire-fights and space battles and danger, he would pack up his things, get on a ship and just go the nearest major port, find the best bar there and start working.
As time passed and the universe expanded, bar-tending became not only a noble profession but a highly lucrative one; the cocktail list alone would often be the size of an old Earth encyclopaedia (if anyone wanted to actually print it out). Learning what would be pleasurable to different species, different taste-buds and, indeed, different digestive systems was a task that became a subtle mix of alchemy, instinct, medical training, experience and, in many cases, a healthy dose of luck.
And whatever Jack was in his many lives, he was a master of the alcoholic arts.
He had the moves, oh yes, honed back long before Tom Cruise had ever picked up a rattle let alone a cocktail shaker. He had the looks, guaranteed to make the bar stools at his side of the bar the most sought after seat in the house. He had the skills to talk to a customer for a mere five minutes and be able to know the perfect drink for them, even if they would never have dreamed of it before. Not since he was mortal had he ever had a customer he couldn't completely satisfy at the first mouthful.
Until tonight.
Jack grinned as he looked around his latest workplace. It was what would once have been called a theme pub back on Earth, and in this case the theme simply was Earth. It was a mess, a mixed up muddle of old Earth memorabilia, antiques, knick knacks and, in more cases than not, junk.
He had been tempted at times to tell the LandCat (he had mistakenly called her the landlady just once; the claws were murder on his back) about the mistakes in her display, that the plastic figurines artfully arrayed over the old brick fireplace (complete with bright purple flames) were in fact toys that had been given away with children's cereals. Or that the symbol of a red heart had actually been considered a token of love and affection and not a terrifying death threat.
But he kept quiet and instead simply enjoyed the place, the chaos evoking so many strange memories and feeling in a very odd way like home, something he hadn't had in very long time. Running his hands along the top of the very old and very stained repliwood bar top, he smiled to himself and rubbed his cloth over a small puddle, catching it before it could stain - not that it would, but still, old habits died hard.
“Jack!”
Very hard.
Looking up, Jack could feel his jaw dropping open as a bustling ball of energy just about contained in a dodgy jacket, fedora, and even dodgier bow tie came practically bouncing into the bar, startling some of the patrons and making a few huddled in one corner start drinking up and head nervously for the door. For some strange reason, the Doctor was always bad for business.
“Of all the gin joints in all the Universe, you had to walk into mine,” Jack muttered under his breath before a delighted grin lit up his face. Tossing down his cloth, he leaped over the bar (the port was thankfully on a planet with what would be considered lower than Earth normal gravity, or that could have been a mistake) and bounded across the few steps to grab the Doctor tight.
“Doctor!” At his loud greeting, Jack was vaguely aware of a few more patrons hastily finishing their drinks and heading for the door. His boss would probably dock his wages later, but right now he didn't care. Hugging the Doctor tight, Jack lifted him off his feet (not something he would really have attempted with his original Doctor, but they had seemed to be getting thinner and lighter ever since then) and spun him round before finally dropping him to the floor again.
Grinning and adjusting his bow tie before his fingers quickly checked on his fedora, the Doctor patted Jack on the shoulders. “Jack, my old friend, what are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” Jack chuckled back, waving his hand up and down his body. He could see it was only now that the Doctor even noticed what he was wearing; the trousers were discreet enough, tight and black and high waisted (some species that didn't reproduce internally had a slight phobia about belly buttons) but his shirt was a sheer fabric, shimmering and pale lilac. The LandCat had bought the fabric to match the fire, but he still hadn't quite worked out what in the logs she used made that purple in the first place.
The bow tie was bright purple, almost eye wateringly bright, but it was still better than the one the Doctor was sporting.
He could see the Doctor's gaze flitting up and down his body, the expression fixed on 'happy but confused', and sighed as he wrapped his hand around the Doctor's elbow and guided him towards the bar. “I work here,” he finally spelled it out for him, steering the Doctor onto a bar stool before heading back to his side of the bar to stand opposite him. “I'm a bartender.”
“Oh. Oh!” The Doctor cried out gleefully, wiggling on his stool in a way that had Jack suddenly worried he was going to fall off it, before he began drumming his fingers on the bar top. “Well that explains it, I had wondered why she brought me here, she's a funny one sometimes, but she does get me where I need to be and what more could I ask for? I mean, it was great when she was human, I miss that a lot, but she's happy now and, well, adventures!”
Jack didn't even pretend to understand most of that, and instead simply smiled and nodded before reaching for a glass.
“So, is the universe ending or is this a social visit?”
“Hmm? Oh social, definitely social, very... sociable, social actually. I'm supposed to be meeting someone here for a drink.”
“Here?” Jack nodded to himself, trying not to feel a slight tinge of jealousy, but at the same time relieved that he wasn't about to get dragged off into some fate worse than death. Again. “When are you meeting them?”
“In a thousand and fifty six years,” the Doctor admitted cheerfully. “At first I thought the TARDIS had just got the date wrong, she's been doing that a bit lately, at first I thought it was because of the cracks and then, well, wibbly, wobbly, timey, wimey, doesn't even seem to cover it any more, I think I need a new phrase. Windy, scary, shocky, life-altering may be closer, or maybe flirty, confusing, revelationary madness-”
Jack cut him off with a wave of his hand, sensing he could be hear all night otherwise. “So, you have a, what, a meeting? In the next century?”
“A date, I think,” the Doctor said, a slight frown on his face. “It's all very confusing, see she already knows me and in a way I already knew her, except not her her, and when I found out who she really was, boom!” He half shouted, waving his hands out from his head as though showing his head exploding. “Big, big shock. And then I ran here, and she ran there, and Amy and Rory ran there, and then we met up again, and then there was a picnic and I think that might count as a date, there was chocolate, does it count as a date if there is chocolate involved?”
Jack chucked, a bemused grin on his face. The Doctor had a girlfriend? This he had to see, even if it meant hanging around in this bar for a thousand and fifty six years. Whilst he had loved the previous Doctors deeply, he was content to just be friends with this one for now, his heart not quite ready for another round of their on off epic relationship quite yet.
Not that he ever would say no to a bonus night though...
“Chocolate making it a date? Depends on how you are serving it.”
“Out of a foil packet,” the Doctor said, frowning again. “Why? How else would you serve it?”
Jack resisted the urge to grab him, drag him back to Jack's place and demonstrate exactly how else you could serve chocolate on a date. Instead he shook his head quickly. “Never mind. So, this date, I take it it was her idea?”
“Yes, at least I think it's a date, she said we should go for a drink sometime and I said when and she said here and I said okay then and she said-”
“Doctor, I get it. So, she asked you out.”
“Yes,” the Doctor admitted, a slightly dark expression on his face. “River does most of the... initiating of that sort of thing. It's quite annoying sometimes.”
Jack couldn't help it, he laughed out loud and leaned over the bar to kiss the Doctor's surprised forehead, sweeping the fedora off his hair and tossing it to the bar as he did so. “You are hopeless.”
“Oi, I'm not! I just... I have a slight problem. About the date. About what she might, you know, expect of me. Drinks,” he said meaningfully, raising his eyebrows at Jack and staring up at him.
Jack dropped back down to his side of the bar and looked at the Doctor curiously. “Expect of you.”
“Exactly, I mean, I may look good for my age but I'm not a young man and she may think I know what I'm doing, but the fact is I don't have a lot of experience with this and I might make a bit of a fool of myself.” He looked so downhearted Jack couldn't help smiling sympathetically.
“Doctor, I know you and I, this you, have never done anything like that, but from what I remember you certainly had the moves.”
“Yes but that was then! Whole new body, new system, new taste-buds!”
“Taste-buds?”
“Yes, I mean, I know what I liked back then but what do I like now? And that's why I need you Jack! You can help me find out!”
Jack froze, part of his mind (okay, his body) screaming at him that he was about to get very, very lucky, and another part of him saying that he had missed something very important in this conversation and that he was going to be the one making an idiot of himself if he didn't start listening more closely.
“I can help you?” He asked slowly.
“Yes! This is perfect in fact, you, me, a bar, we can practice for as long as it takes! I have plenty of credit of course.”
“You want to pay me?” Jack said, suddenly fearing the Doctor thought it was THAT kind of bar. Not that Jack hadn't occasionally frequented such places but still, he had never managed to work there; he had been fired from a couple though for giving away 'the goods' for free.
“Yes! Well, not you, obviously,” the Doctor said digging through his pockets and finally emerging with a credit chit, “the bar I mean. For the alcohol.”
Alcohol.
Taste-buds.
Drinks.
“Drinks!” Jack exclaimed in an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. “You want me to help you find a drink you like!”
“Yes, exactly,” the Doctor said with a curious expression. “Why, what did you think I meant?”
“You know what, it doesn't matter,” Jack said, confident again and back in control. This was his part of the universe, his little corner of his bar and he may not be a Time Lord or even a hero right now, but here he was in charge and he was God as far as any of his customers were concerned. This was what he was good at and he was definitely going to make sure the Doctor left here completely satisfied.
Not that he would have minded satisfying him the other way too...
Grabbing his cocktail shaker, Jack stepped back and considered the vast array of bottles and buttons and spouts lining the wall behind him, some hooked up to actual alcoholic drinks distilled from various berries, plants, grapes, nectar, bodily fluids and even plasma (not for the faint-hearted or, indeed, warm blooded) and others connected to sophisticated replication systems creating a wide variety of other beverages from stored chemical patterns. Being a bartender was more like flying a star ship than anything else, and he could work those liquids like a true pro.
“Doctor, you'd better hang on to your stool and prepare for the best drink of your life.” He knew just the thing, the perfect mix of delicate flavours and strong undercurrents, a truly sophisticated drink for a truly sophisticated being. Bringing the mix together, he shook it up over ice in the old fashioned but still fashionable way before straining it and pouring it into the tall glass on the bar and sliding it towards the Doctor.
“It's orange.”
“I prefer golden amber,” Jack said simply, but he added a slice of something that approximated an orange to the rim of the glass as a final touch. “A subtle blend of 32 different fruits and liquors, strong but with a gentle taste that leaves it always in the memory.” Standing back, he folded his arms across his chest, supremely confident and waiting for the look of bliss and gratitude that would surely follow as the Doctor raised it to his lips and took a healthy swig.
Jack looked up from the spray of a subtle blend of 32 different fruits and liquors, now with added Time Lord saliva, covering the front of his shirt and sighed and he took in the look of disgust on the Doctor's face and the way he was using his fingernails to scrape his tongue before grabbing a napkin from the bar and licking it furiously instead.
Sighing, Jack took the drink back, made a note on the Doctor's bill, and tried again.
**************************************
As he finally waved one very happy, if slightly tipsy, Time Lord off back to his TARDIS, Jack looked at the counter and sighed heavily. Glasses and bottles and umbrellas littered the surface and his fingers ached from shaking, stirring and selecting so many different drinks. His feet hurt, he had been awake for thirty three hours straight and, judging by the way her tail was swishing, her fur all on end, his boss wasn't too happy either.
“That... Man, is bad for business,” she mewled angrily, “he's scared off half of my customers!”
“They'll be back,” Jack said dismissively, starting to load the debris into the cleaning trays, “they always are.”
“But my takings-”
“Are twice what they would normally be,” Jack said, pointing to the till before smiling slightly. “He bought a measure of every single alcohol, juice, nectar and fluid we stock.”
“Everything?” She gasped, her hand rising to her chest and her whiskers quivering. “But how is he still standing?”
“Believe me, if I knew that I'd be doing it myself,” Jack grumbled, stretching out his back.
“So, what did he like in the end?”
Jack grinned to himself as he picked up the only empty glass that the Doctor had left that night and held it up to the light, seriously considering keeping it as a memento. He had worked very hard to get that drink right and he had already programmed it into the cocktail list, a permanent monument to the man who always caused chaos, even when he was just being sociable.
“Check the list, it's under The Doctor's Delight.”
He carried on tidying up as she stalked around the bar, the pad of her bare feet soothing whilst the click of her claws on the list made his back twinge in remembered pain - and maybe a little bit of pleasure too.
“There's no alcohol in this.”
“Yep, its a Shirley Temple alright.” Catching her confused look, he shook his head. “Never mind, anyway it looks like this Doctor doesn't like spirits. At all.”
“So you made him a drink with Old Terran Orangeade, Calparian double cream, chocolate buttons, chilli peppers and- Candy floss?”
“Around the rim only,” Jack confirmed, deciding that the glass was too sticky to keep after all; with that much sugar in it, he would only end up starting a new civilisation if he left it too close to a power source.
“But that, that's against all logic, basic biology, no normal creature alive, including the Sythodan, and they have no taste receptors at all, could ever find THAT appealing!”
“He's no normal creature though,” Jack grinned, putting the last of the glasses in to clean and wiping down the bar before grabbing the Fedora he had stolen from the Doctor and putting it on his head and shrugging. “He's the Doctor.”
********************************************
One thousand and fifty six years later...
River Song grinned at the cute bartender and wondered if it would be bad form to try and get the Doctor to agree to get her back to StormCage a little past her curfew, just to get a bit more time with the gorgeous man. As he turned around to get someone else's drink, she couldn't resist letting her gaze slide down his body, admiring the way his bright blue trousers skimmed over his-
Flicking back to the cocktail list quickly as he turned round, she only half read it, instead trying to work out whether there was enough time to have a good flirt with the bartender before the Doctor arrived-
The Doctor. River Song laughed out loud as her eyes found the cocktail listed and read through the ingredients with a look of amused horror on her face. “Oh, that is so him.”
“What can I get you?” She smiled as the bartender returned his attention to her, shifting on her chair and giving her most winning smile.
“I'll have a Celestial Mindblower and The Doctor's Delight please.”
The Bartender grinned wickedly, his gaze flicking over her in a way that almost seemed too familiar, too knowing, as though he had been waiting for her to walk in and she felt her smile fading a little, confusion replacing it.
“You must be River.”
“Oh, I am sorry,” she said smoothly, holding out her hand, “I travel a lot and don't always meet people in the right order. You are?”
“An old friend of an old friend,” he answered cryptically, before bringing her hand up to his lips to kiss it, his smile broadening. “And I can see I have nothing to worry about, he's in very good hands.”
“Thank you,” she said, confused, but before she could say anything else he hurried off, setting to work on their drinks.
“River!” A voice boomed from behind her and she twisted to see the Doctor bounding over, his grin as infectious as ever as he leaned in close beside her. “We meet again.”
“We certainly do,” she purred back, waiting as he slid into the chair beside her then frowned as she realised their drinks were already there, but the waiter was nowhere to be seen. And on the bar was-
A Fedora.
“My Fedora!” The Doctor exclaimed, grabbing it and placing it on his head, grinning as he turned to face her. “It's my old Fedora, well, it wasn't old when I had it but it is now, cheeky boy, what do you think, I wear a Fedora now, Fedoras are cool.”
Shaking her head slightly, River turned back to her drink and smiled. “Yes dear.”