Fanfic: DW/SPN Xover - The First Thanksgiving: Wednesday, 1 of 3 (Jack/Sam)
Title: The First Thanksgiving: Wednesday, 1 of 3
Author: eboniorchid
Fandom: Doctor Who/Supernatural Crossover
Characters: Captain Jack Harkness/Sam Winchester
Prompt: Jack/Sam requests over at The 'Captain Jack Sexes Everyone In Every Fandom Ever' Challenge created by sarkastic
Word Count: ~2,150 words.
Rating: PG-13 for language and innuendo.
Warnings/Spoilers: No Sex! Yeah, sorry about that. There will, of course, be smutty goodness in some future parts of the TFT series, though, so stay tuned! Potential for vague spoilers for the SPN "Pilot" and the last half of S1 for Doctor Who.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Seriously, nothing.
Summary: Quietly mysterious college freshman meet dashing young Air Force captain … or something.
Author's Notes: This is the first part of the Wednesday story set (now complete). So, while, yes, there are more stories coming for the days that follow, I think you can read the Wednesday story set and still be pretty satisfied. It doesn't leave you hanging or anything.
Wednesday (Day 1): 1 of 3 - 2 of 3 - 3 of 3
Captain Jack Harkness arrived in Palo Alto, California, USA, Earth Prime at quarter to midnight, Pacific Standard Time, on Sunday, November 24, 2002. He was there to lay out what he considered to be a bizarre but fairly easy con, and he certainly wouldn't mind enjoying the local entertainments whenever he had downtime.
All he had to do was convince the regional Egdophodgian rep that the statue he'd stolen from downtown Palo Alto was all that remained of Ssemm, the highly sought-after Egdo rebel.
Ssemm was dead. No need to lie about that. He'd been dead for quite some time and Jack had seen it with his own eyes. But, he had no proof and Egdo society was very evidence-oriented. So, he'd gone through the data logs and found a suitable substitute.
The statue was totally passable as a calcified Egdophodgian, even if the true creator was just a college artiste with more passion than aesthetic sense. It would be at least a week, though, before the Egdo entourage passed through the quaintly titled "Milky Way," and, really, after locating the stone monstrosity and stashing it away, there wasn't much Jack needed to do.
Hence, the inordinate amount of bar-hopping and general lollygagging. Okay, so it was less a job and more a … vacation. But, hey, what good was money if he never found time to waste it up on one-night-stands? Jack had every intention of taking full advantage of his time in Preppie College Crowd, California. It seemed, however, that the cosmos had other plans for him.
Early on his third night in town, Jack ran into someone. Not someone he knew exactly, but someone special nonetheless. It was unfortunate, or perhaps very fortunate, that "ran into" occurred quite literally.
He wasn't consciously observing the movements of others striding down the path through Stanford's central campus. The instincts and training so deeply engrained in his psyche allowed him to weave, without pause, around fellow evening strollers. Apparently, though, he was still paying far less attention than necessary on a somewhat busy sidewalk. He was totally wrapped in thought, or memories … very shapely and sweetly-scented daydreams, wrapped around his-
But then he wasn't thinking much at all, because his body crashed, hard, into a passing college boy, all with an "oof" and a scatter of books.
"Oh shit," said College Boy #1, scrambling to gather up his fallen tomes, brow creased.
"Sorry about that," Jack apologized to the bent-over boy, grabbing books from the other side of the walkway. He didn't know whose fault it was, but it really didn't matter. Especially when the view wasn't half bad.
"Oh … well …you know," the young man said, scratching the back of his head as he straightened up and shrugged, "I wasn't really looking where I was going." He brushed the dirt off his short stack of books with quick flicks of his broad hand and looked over at Jack, who was similarly tending to the stray texts he'd captured.
"No problem," Jack replied, pursing his lips and taking in all the wide and tall, the floppy hair, the almost-smile, the eyes that said I might be innocent, but, then again, I might not.
"You, uh … heading to the library?" Jack wondered aloud, leading into full-on Harkness charm in ... 4, 3, 2 … Then Jack smirked.
"I could help you with these." It came out cocky and smooth, an engraved invitation, like this guy was the cutest thing Jack had seen since Monday. Maybe because he was.
The half-laugh and wide smile flashed Jack's way were shy, maybe a little wary, but not wholly lacking in the flirtation department. "Oh, umm … you don't have to do that."
Jack's expression turned mockingly pensive. "Oh, I try to only do things that I … really … want … to do." His eyebrow quirked mischievously, lips curling up at the edges.
"I bet," College Boy coughed out with s short puff of laughter and a shake of his head.
"Well then …"
"Sam."
"… Sam." Jack grinned, reaching for a firm handshake before sliding out, fingers skimming over Sam's. "Captain Jack Harkness, reporting for Hardback Guard & Transport Duty." Interpretation of that one was totally up for grabs. Jack just hoped that Sam read people at least half as well as books.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, they were a dozen books lighter and somewhat more acquainted. Quietly mysterious college freshman meet dashing young Air Force captain. True, it was more like Space Force captain, but no need to confuse the boy.
"Where to now, Sammy?" Jack asked brightly as they exited, side-by-side, through the main library doors.
Sam flinched like he'd been struck and Jack's smile dimmed. "Sam," he said, "it's just Sam."
"Works for me." No need opening old wounds on a first date, especially not during the first half hour, and those wounds looked deep.
Deep like loss, like grief, like mourning.
"You, uh … hungry?" Jack asked, smile hesitant. It was somehow softer, but still bound to dazzle.
Sam visibly relaxed, but then he cocked his head to the side, as if considering something, seemingly Jack, and made a little "huh" sound.
"What?" Jack didn't mind being l'objet d'attention, but it would still be nice to know what was so intriguing to his new collegeboy friend.
"I can't decide if you're a diner kinda guy." Sam continued looking pleasantly puzzled, like he was playing chess with naked figurines. Challenging, yes, but also very … stimulating.
Jack could understand the confusion. His slacks and oxford shirt, casual jacket or no, looked like he might have too much money to find diners enticing. "Diner? Like a place where people eat cheap, greasy food that tastes amazing, but will likely lead to an early demise?"
Sam's eyebrows inched a little higher, but he gave a slight nod, approving of Jack's apt description.
"Oh yeah. I am totally a diner kinda guy."
* * *
At the diner they shared stories, only asking questions they were lead to, like punch-lines with drum-rolls. Sam talked about every remotely odd occurrence during his first three months at Stanford, and mentioned nothing of his life before then. Jack told modified versions of his more scandalous adventures and generally got the feeling that his dinner partner didn't much believe him. It was all well-and-good, though. They found each other engaging, intriguing, entertaining, and it was almost like they were old friends catching up, rather than new friends, green around the edges in relation to each other.
"You have class tomorrow?"
"No, actually." Sam's face scrunched up. "I'm out for the … holiday." He said "holiday" like it offended him as deeply as any curse or epithet.
"Oh … right." Jack nodded, hiding his confusion. "You heading someplace special?"
Sam's smile was resigned, more broken glass than salty tears, but mostly just calm on an isolated lake. "No … nowhere special."
Jack wondered who this boy had lost, how many, and how long ago. He wondered why this holiday held so much bitter emptiness. He didn't ask, though, of course. Never would. That would leave them both vulnerable to … forming attachments. Jack didn't do attachments. Not those kind anyway.
"How about you, Jack? Do you have a turkey-carving appointment tomorrow?"
Oh, it's Thanksgiving, i.e. Old Harvest Festival time! Jack's tempus verus, the 51st century, no longer celebrated some of the same holidays in the same ways, though they certainly had many other celebrations. So, technically, this would be Jack's first Thanksgiving.
His heart welled with childlike excitement and he momentarily forgot the question. The goofy grin that spread slowly over his face, however, was met with a wall of tension when he refocused on the man across the table.
"Oh, I don't have any plans. I'm just surprised. I guess I forgot tomorrow was Thanksgiving. Must be working too hard or something."
"Riiiiiight." Sam smiled, comically dismissing Jack's implied work ethic, before reaching for the bill.
Jack got there first, though, and set the billfold down to his left while he took out his wallet and slid a UBS Visa card into the top billfold pocket.
Sam was still waiting patiently to see the bill when Jack handed it off to the passing waitress. He scoffed, watching her retreating back and shaking his head. "What do I owe you?" He sounded like he probably already knew the answer but felt compelled to ask anyway.
"Don't worry about it," Jack said.
Sam's brow furrowed and his voice was laced with irritation. "I can pay for myself."
"I know you can, Sam, but I remember what it's like to be a struggling academy student. Just let me get this, okay?"
Sam gave an exasperated sigh.
Jack was sincere, though. This was not ploy for Sam's favor, nor was it some play for dominance. "I'm really not trying to be a jerk. I just thought it would be easier."
"Sure."
Jack felt like Sam was picking at internal scabs again, because of him. "How 'bout you handle the tip then? And you can get the tab another time?" The waitress brought over the receipt and Jack signed it quickly, shooing her away.
"Another time?" Sam asked, his smile creeping back with the questioning arch of an eyebrow.
Jack just slid out of the booth and smiled down at Sam with a playful shrug and an expectant twinkle in his eye.
Sam followed suit, reaching in his pocket for some bills before tossing them onto the table.
Jack was already halfway out the door.
* * *
On the curb, Jack dug out a contemporary-looking cell phone and dialed up Yellow Cab. He'd considered calling for a limo, just because he could and he enjoyed putting on a good show on occasion. But, he couldn't figure out how to explain an Air Force captain riding around a college town in a limo. So, he would just have to cab it and hope that his charms didn't need the aid of a sexy ride.
Sam came out as he was hanging up the phone.
Minutes, only, before a taxi arrived to cart him back to his pretty, empty hotel room. Minutes, only, to get Sam to come with.
"Hey, I thought maybe we could … hangout again tomorrow. I mean, you don't have class, I don't have work, and Thanksgiving would probably be more fun together than apart. What d'ya say?"
Sam's eyebrows knitted together for a moment before relaxing again. "Okay. Yeah. The diner's open. I could meet you here. Like for lunch or something." He shrugged, his expression alternating between confusion and manufactured indifference.
Jack knew that look. He'd used it himself back in his academy days. But then the cab was pulling up and he was opening the door.
He paused, half in and half out of the cab, and they looked at each other. He didn't want the night to end here, and it didn't seem that Sam did either, but neither of them wanted to be the first to say so.
When Sam crossed his arms, taking up a somewhat defensive stance, Jack gave in.
"Hey … do you want to come up to the hotel for a bit?" Jack was about as innocent as Jack ever could be, when awake and fully in-charge of his faculties. "We could order up some Chocolate Mousse from the restaurant. I swear their mousse is the best I've ever had, hands down. We could even watch one of those movies-on-demand." Jack knew that Sam was far more interesting than the usual bar fare and really, the guy was just plain easy to be around. Jack wanted more of that, more of Sam. "It is still pretty early."
"I don't know …" Sam's lashes fluttered shut as he tilted his head down, a bit on the nervous bashful side. "I mean …" He reached back to scratch his head, his voice a low stutter.
Jack smiled gently, consciously muffling the natural predatory purr in his voice. "Hey, I'm not asking for anything."
Sam lifted his head at that, inhaling as if to say something, but he closed his mouth again, his eyes flitting away before settling back on Jack's face.
Jack continued. "We're just talking about chocolate and movies-on-TV. Can you really pass up chocolate and movies-on-TV?"
Sam snickered, shy smile nearly becoming a smirk. "You know, Jack … I really don't think I can." And the way Sam's gaze swept over him then, made it pretty clear how Sam would answer if Jack ever did ask for anything.
So, Jack pushed the car door wide and settled into the far end of backseat, beckoning to Sam with a wave of his hand. As he watched Sam stretch, flex, and fold his massive frame into the narrow space beside him, Jack's only concern was what to ask for first.
Wednesday (Day 1): 1 of 3 - 2 of 3 - 3 of 3
Additional Author's Note: In case you're wondering about the movies-on-demand bit. Yes, I did actually write that before I saw the "Incident" in S02xE04, but hey, what can I say, Kripke and I see eye-to-eye like that.
Author: eboniorchid
Fandom: Doctor Who/Supernatural Crossover
Characters: Captain Jack Harkness/Sam Winchester
Prompt: Jack/Sam requests over at The 'Captain Jack Sexes Everyone In Every Fandom Ever' Challenge created by sarkastic
Word Count: ~2,150 words.
Rating: PG-13 for language and innuendo.
Warnings/Spoilers: No Sex! Yeah, sorry about that. There will, of course, be smutty goodness in some future parts of the TFT series, though, so stay tuned! Potential for vague spoilers for the SPN "Pilot" and the last half of S1 for Doctor Who.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Seriously, nothing.
Summary: Quietly mysterious college freshman meet dashing young Air Force captain … or something.
Author's Notes: This is the first part of the Wednesday story set (now complete). So, while, yes, there are more stories coming for the days that follow, I think you can read the Wednesday story set and still be pretty satisfied. It doesn't leave you hanging or anything.
Wednesday (Day 1): 1 of 3 - 2 of 3 - 3 of 3
Captain Jack Harkness arrived in Palo Alto, California, USA, Earth Prime at quarter to midnight, Pacific Standard Time, on Sunday, November 24, 2002. He was there to lay out what he considered to be a bizarre but fairly easy con, and he certainly wouldn't mind enjoying the local entertainments whenever he had downtime.
All he had to do was convince the regional Egdophodgian rep that the statue he'd stolen from downtown Palo Alto was all that remained of Ssemm, the highly sought-after Egdo rebel.
Ssemm was dead. No need to lie about that. He'd been dead for quite some time and Jack had seen it with his own eyes. But, he had no proof and Egdo society was very evidence-oriented. So, he'd gone through the data logs and found a suitable substitute.
The statue was totally passable as a calcified Egdophodgian, even if the true creator was just a college artiste with more passion than aesthetic sense. It would be at least a week, though, before the Egdo entourage passed through the quaintly titled "Milky Way," and, really, after locating the stone monstrosity and stashing it away, there wasn't much Jack needed to do.
Hence, the inordinate amount of bar-hopping and general lollygagging. Okay, so it was less a job and more a … vacation. But, hey, what good was money if he never found time to waste it up on one-night-stands? Jack had every intention of taking full advantage of his time in Preppie College Crowd, California. It seemed, however, that the cosmos had other plans for him.
Early on his third night in town, Jack ran into someone. Not someone he knew exactly, but someone special nonetheless. It was unfortunate, or perhaps very fortunate, that "ran into" occurred quite literally.
He wasn't consciously observing the movements of others striding down the path through Stanford's central campus. The instincts and training so deeply engrained in his psyche allowed him to weave, without pause, around fellow evening strollers. Apparently, though, he was still paying far less attention than necessary on a somewhat busy sidewalk. He was totally wrapped in thought, or memories … very shapely and sweetly-scented daydreams, wrapped around his-
But then he wasn't thinking much at all, because his body crashed, hard, into a passing college boy, all with an "oof" and a scatter of books.
"Oh shit," said College Boy #1, scrambling to gather up his fallen tomes, brow creased.
"Sorry about that," Jack apologized to the bent-over boy, grabbing books from the other side of the walkway. He didn't know whose fault it was, but it really didn't matter. Especially when the view wasn't half bad.
"Oh … well …you know," the young man said, scratching the back of his head as he straightened up and shrugged, "I wasn't really looking where I was going." He brushed the dirt off his short stack of books with quick flicks of his broad hand and looked over at Jack, who was similarly tending to the stray texts he'd captured.
"No problem," Jack replied, pursing his lips and taking in all the wide and tall, the floppy hair, the almost-smile, the eyes that said I might be innocent, but, then again, I might not.
"You, uh … heading to the library?" Jack wondered aloud, leading into full-on Harkness charm in ... 4, 3, 2 … Then Jack smirked.
"I could help you with these." It came out cocky and smooth, an engraved invitation, like this guy was the cutest thing Jack had seen since Monday. Maybe because he was.
The half-laugh and wide smile flashed Jack's way were shy, maybe a little wary, but not wholly lacking in the flirtation department. "Oh, umm … you don't have to do that."
Jack's expression turned mockingly pensive. "Oh, I try to only do things that I … really … want … to do." His eyebrow quirked mischievously, lips curling up at the edges.
"I bet," College Boy coughed out with s short puff of laughter and a shake of his head.
"Well then …"
"Sam."
"… Sam." Jack grinned, reaching for a firm handshake before sliding out, fingers skimming over Sam's. "Captain Jack Harkness, reporting for Hardback Guard & Transport Duty." Interpretation of that one was totally up for grabs. Jack just hoped that Sam read people at least half as well as books.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, they were a dozen books lighter and somewhat more acquainted. Quietly mysterious college freshman meet dashing young Air Force captain. True, it was more like Space Force captain, but no need to confuse the boy.
"Where to now, Sammy?" Jack asked brightly as they exited, side-by-side, through the main library doors.
Sam flinched like he'd been struck and Jack's smile dimmed. "Sam," he said, "it's just Sam."
"Works for me." No need opening old wounds on a first date, especially not during the first half hour, and those wounds looked deep.
Deep like loss, like grief, like mourning.
"You, uh … hungry?" Jack asked, smile hesitant. It was somehow softer, but still bound to dazzle.
Sam visibly relaxed, but then he cocked his head to the side, as if considering something, seemingly Jack, and made a little "huh" sound.
"What?" Jack didn't mind being l'objet d'attention, but it would still be nice to know what was so intriguing to his new collegeboy friend.
"I can't decide if you're a diner kinda guy." Sam continued looking pleasantly puzzled, like he was playing chess with naked figurines. Challenging, yes, but also very … stimulating.
Jack could understand the confusion. His slacks and oxford shirt, casual jacket or no, looked like he might have too much money to find diners enticing. "Diner? Like a place where people eat cheap, greasy food that tastes amazing, but will likely lead to an early demise?"
Sam's eyebrows inched a little higher, but he gave a slight nod, approving of Jack's apt description.
"Oh yeah. I am totally a diner kinda guy."
* * *
At the diner they shared stories, only asking questions they were lead to, like punch-lines with drum-rolls. Sam talked about every remotely odd occurrence during his first three months at Stanford, and mentioned nothing of his life before then. Jack told modified versions of his more scandalous adventures and generally got the feeling that his dinner partner didn't much believe him. It was all well-and-good, though. They found each other engaging, intriguing, entertaining, and it was almost like they were old friends catching up, rather than new friends, green around the edges in relation to each other.
"You have class tomorrow?"
"No, actually." Sam's face scrunched up. "I'm out for the … holiday." He said "holiday" like it offended him as deeply as any curse or epithet.
"Oh … right." Jack nodded, hiding his confusion. "You heading someplace special?"
Sam's smile was resigned, more broken glass than salty tears, but mostly just calm on an isolated lake. "No … nowhere special."
Jack wondered who this boy had lost, how many, and how long ago. He wondered why this holiday held so much bitter emptiness. He didn't ask, though, of course. Never would. That would leave them both vulnerable to … forming attachments. Jack didn't do attachments. Not those kind anyway.
"How about you, Jack? Do you have a turkey-carving appointment tomorrow?"
Oh, it's Thanksgiving, i.e. Old Harvest Festival time! Jack's tempus verus, the 51st century, no longer celebrated some of the same holidays in the same ways, though they certainly had many other celebrations. So, technically, this would be Jack's first Thanksgiving.
His heart welled with childlike excitement and he momentarily forgot the question. The goofy grin that spread slowly over his face, however, was met with a wall of tension when he refocused on the man across the table.
"Oh, I don't have any plans. I'm just surprised. I guess I forgot tomorrow was Thanksgiving. Must be working too hard or something."
"Riiiiiight." Sam smiled, comically dismissing Jack's implied work ethic, before reaching for the bill.
Jack got there first, though, and set the billfold down to his left while he took out his wallet and slid a UBS Visa card into the top billfold pocket.
Sam was still waiting patiently to see the bill when Jack handed it off to the passing waitress. He scoffed, watching her retreating back and shaking his head. "What do I owe you?" He sounded like he probably already knew the answer but felt compelled to ask anyway.
"Don't worry about it," Jack said.
Sam's brow furrowed and his voice was laced with irritation. "I can pay for myself."
"I know you can, Sam, but I remember what it's like to be a struggling academy student. Just let me get this, okay?"
Sam gave an exasperated sigh.
Jack was sincere, though. This was not ploy for Sam's favor, nor was it some play for dominance. "I'm really not trying to be a jerk. I just thought it would be easier."
"Sure."
Jack felt like Sam was picking at internal scabs again, because of him. "How 'bout you handle the tip then? And you can get the tab another time?" The waitress brought over the receipt and Jack signed it quickly, shooing her away.
"Another time?" Sam asked, his smile creeping back with the questioning arch of an eyebrow.
Jack just slid out of the booth and smiled down at Sam with a playful shrug and an expectant twinkle in his eye.
Sam followed suit, reaching in his pocket for some bills before tossing them onto the table.
Jack was already halfway out the door.
* * *
On the curb, Jack dug out a contemporary-looking cell phone and dialed up Yellow Cab. He'd considered calling for a limo, just because he could and he enjoyed putting on a good show on occasion. But, he couldn't figure out how to explain an Air Force captain riding around a college town in a limo. So, he would just have to cab it and hope that his charms didn't need the aid of a sexy ride.
Sam came out as he was hanging up the phone.
Minutes, only, before a taxi arrived to cart him back to his pretty, empty hotel room. Minutes, only, to get Sam to come with.
"Hey, I thought maybe we could … hangout again tomorrow. I mean, you don't have class, I don't have work, and Thanksgiving would probably be more fun together than apart. What d'ya say?"
Sam's eyebrows knitted together for a moment before relaxing again. "Okay. Yeah. The diner's open. I could meet you here. Like for lunch or something." He shrugged, his expression alternating between confusion and manufactured indifference.
Jack knew that look. He'd used it himself back in his academy days. But then the cab was pulling up and he was opening the door.
He paused, half in and half out of the cab, and they looked at each other. He didn't want the night to end here, and it didn't seem that Sam did either, but neither of them wanted to be the first to say so.
When Sam crossed his arms, taking up a somewhat defensive stance, Jack gave in.
"Hey … do you want to come up to the hotel for a bit?" Jack was about as innocent as Jack ever could be, when awake and fully in-charge of his faculties. "We could order up some Chocolate Mousse from the restaurant. I swear their mousse is the best I've ever had, hands down. We could even watch one of those movies-on-demand." Jack knew that Sam was far more interesting than the usual bar fare and really, the guy was just plain easy to be around. Jack wanted more of that, more of Sam. "It is still pretty early."
"I don't know …" Sam's lashes fluttered shut as he tilted his head down, a bit on the nervous bashful side. "I mean …" He reached back to scratch his head, his voice a low stutter.
Jack smiled gently, consciously muffling the natural predatory purr in his voice. "Hey, I'm not asking for anything."
Sam lifted his head at that, inhaling as if to say something, but he closed his mouth again, his eyes flitting away before settling back on Jack's face.
Jack continued. "We're just talking about chocolate and movies-on-TV. Can you really pass up chocolate and movies-on-TV?"
Sam snickered, shy smile nearly becoming a smirk. "You know, Jack … I really don't think I can." And the way Sam's gaze swept over him then, made it pretty clear how Sam would answer if Jack ever did ask for anything.
So, Jack pushed the car door wide and settled into the far end of backseat, beckoning to Sam with a wave of his hand. As he watched Sam stretch, flex, and fold his massive frame into the narrow space beside him, Jack's only concern was what to ask for first.
Wednesday (Day 1): 1 of 3 - 2 of 3 - 3 of 3
Additional Author's Note: In case you're wondering about the movies-on-demand bit. Yes, I did actually write that before I saw the "Incident" in S02xE04, but hey, what can I say, Kripke and I see eye-to-eye like that.