We Don't Fit In, But Maybe We Fit Together
It’s 1976 and Captain Jack Harkness sits in a dark corner of a dark bar. He’s not used to hiding; blending in doesn’t come naturally to him. But he’s making an effort. Torchwood is still changing and evolving and so is the rest of the world. He knows he’ll have a long wait, but he hopes it will catch up with him one day soon.
He’s been tasked with coming up to London to trace reports of time holes appearing. If the reports are true then it means someone inexperienced with time travel is messing about and not cleaning up properly after themselves. Jack has been sent because they all know he has the inside scoop when it comes to knowledge of time travel.
So he sits, trying to blend in. He’s even wearing the clothes for the sake of the goddesses. High waisted flares, black clingy turtle neck and a dark blazer. He’s even got platforms on. Jack looks down at himself and swigs some more of his water. Actually not looking so bad. At least this time has it right with the fitted clothes. He can even make out the outline of his own…
Oh. Hello.
A man has sat at the stool two away from his and is motioning to the barman for a drink. Jack notices three things straight away. One, the man is American; two, he too is trying to blend into a world that doesn’t accept him; and three, this man has time travelled. Not recently, and not far, but there is a glow about him. Something no one else would notice, but he it’s there. Jack can sense it.
Jack studies the man out of the corner of his eye. Dark, plain suit. So bland it screams ‘notice me, I’m trying to blend in.’ He’s Fed, CIA, Secret Service; one of those. But he’s not unattractive.
As the barman brings over a Scotch on the rocks for the man Jack speaks up, grateful for the accent he has adopted.
“Hi there. Will you let me get that drink for you? One American welcoming another to li’l o’l England.”
The man turns to look at him, easily appraising him with one quick, practiced look.
“That’s very kind, thank you.” The man takes his glass and tilts it towards him as the barman comes to Jack for the money. He hands it over and turns back to the man.
“So are you just in London for a visit?”
“Work.” the man replies.
Jack leans over the stool separating them and extends his hand.
“Captain Jack Harkness.” he offers.
He watches as the man reappraises him.
“Canton Delaware. You’re in the forces?”
“Ex-RAF. I’ve been over here a while.”
“You kept your accent.”
“Reminds me of home.” Jack lies smoothly.
“You haven’t thought of going back?”
“I haven’t got much to go back to.” This time it’s not a lie and it hurts that little bit more for it.
“I know the feeling.” Canton responds with an expression Jack knows too well.
“You lost someone?” he asks tentatively.
Canton nods. “There was an accident. He died.” And there Jack has it; the thing that doesn’t make him fit. One of the things that makes Jack not fit into this world.
“I’m sorry.” he says, and he means it. “I lost someone once. A while ago now. He was a Doctor.”
This pulls a slight smile from the man. “I knew a Doctor too. It was a few years ago, but he was the sort of man that sticks in the mind.”
Jack is startled. He isn’t even sure why he mentioned the Doctor, but this isn’t the response he expected. But it could explain the glow of time travel.
“This Doctor wasn’t fond of police boxes was he?”
Canton looks at him sharply now and tries to cover his surprise. “Very fond.”
“Bigger on the inside?” Jack offers again with a grin.
“Surprisingly so.” The shock fades from Canton’s face, and he seems to relax a little. He drains his drink and holds up his glass. “Can I return the favour?”
Jack looks at his glass of water before pushing it away from him.
“Sure, why not?”
This isn’t the time traveller he is looking for, and he won’t get any recent answers from him; but every time he hears that the Doctor is still coming to Earth it plants a little seed of hope inside him that one day…one day...
Jack slides off his stool and takes the one next to Canton before picking up his newly served drink. They clink glasses and Jack wonders where to take this next.
“You didn’t seem surprised.” Canton states before Jack can say anything.
“That you’ve met the Doctor?” Jack shakes his head. “I know him well enough to know he gets around. And that he makes an impression.”
Canton nods. “He saved me, saved my career. He helped me make my name. But that’s not what I meant. It’s 1976 and you don’t bat an eyelid when I say I lost a man.”
Jack shrugs and smiles. “Let’s just say I’ve been around a bit too.” He paused. “Then why did you tell me? Wait, you were after a reaction weren’t you?” Jack suddenly sees it and wonders why it took him so long. Too wrapped up in his own thoughts to see what lies behind the man’s eyes. The need to feel, the need to express rage and pain, even if through a fist fight with a stranger, in a strange bar in a strange city.
Canton’s gaze doesn’t waver, his eyes boring into Jack’s, knowing that he is finally understood by someone. There’s a challenge there too; a challenge to see if Jack can make it happen.
And Jack knows he can. He knows he can give this man everything he needs and knows he needs it too. Sometimes he needs not to have to hide and let everything he is be there for the taking. He throws back his drink, feeling the burn as it runs down his throat, the warmth of it pooling in his belly.
“Maybe we should take this outside.” he says. The challenge is there in his eyes now too, but he already knows Canton will take it.
Canton waits a beat before his drink is also swallowed in one gulp, and he rises from his bar stool and heads out of the door. Jack follows him as he exits and turns into an alley shrouded in darkness. He is a few steps behind and he loses sight of Canton for a second in the dark of the ally. He keeps pressing on, peering the best he can, looking for a moving shadow.
Suddenly hands grab the top of his arms and push him against a wall. A hot mouth is clamped over his, a warm tongue forcing itself past his lips. Jack returns the kiss with all the force that it is being given, and fingers dig into his biceps through two layers of material.
Jack grabs Canton’s face with one hand and wraps the other arm around his waist, pulling him tight against him. They moan into each other’s mouths and their cocks quickly fill with blood as they rub against each other.
Their bodies rock as their hands start to move, frantically grabbing for any inch of skin they can connect with. Canton yanks the hem of Jack’s turtle neck from the waistband of his trousers and his fingers crawl underneath, tracing urgent patterns on the skin of his stomach and chest; leaving trails of burning flesh behind them.
Jack fumbles with the buttons on Canton’s shirt, but gets frustrated. With two sharp tugs it is open and somewhere in his mind Jack hears buttons ping against the ground as they hit. And then he too is grasping frantically at flesh, raking blunt fingernails over the other man's stomach; want more, now; needing closer, closer, more, more.
Jack pulls away from the kiss and trails down to nip Canton's neck before moving over the tie he has no time to deal with right now, and clamping down on the other man’s clavicle. Canton gasps and thrusts his hips forwards, dragging a moan from Jack which he tries to muffle by pushing his mouth harder against the skin he is abusing with his teeth.
Hands scratch down Jack's back and he arches towards them, still silently begging for more. Then a hand is around his throat, under his chin and pulling his head up. Jack’s eyes are closed but he feels his mouth caught once more in a heated, messy kiss that is full of teeth and bite and probing tongue.
Canton uses his body to push Jack flush against the wall again and Jack loses himself in the kiss, the hand still around his throat. It isn’t tight enough to interrupt his breathing, but the power is implicit in the man's grip and that is all Jack needs.
Jack feels Canton's other hand move between them and he pulls at his belt before undoing his trousers. Canton then reaches for Jack's trousers and deftly pops the button open before tugging down the zip. Jack's cock springs free and Canton's hand wraps around it, pushing it flush against his own erection. Jack removes one of his own hands from under Canton's shirt and adds his own grip.
Together they work their cocks against each other; finding a rhythm, pumping and squeezing, swallowing each others’ moans as they thrust into their hands. Jack can feel his breath shallowing, his need for release building. The rhythm of Canton's thrusts begins to falter and Jack knows he must be close too. Jack digs his nails hard into Canton's shoulder as the hand around his neck tightens and that’s all it takes. Jack sails over the edge, his orgasm hitting him hard. His body shudders as come spills over their hands, lubricating their movement and Canton barely muffles a shout as his come mixes with Jack's between their bodies.
They stand together, panting. Jack is leaning against the wall, Canton is leaning against him, their foreheads pressed together. Their breath mingles as their cocks soften in their hands and their come starts to cool in the air.
Finally Canton breaks the silence.
"I didn't hurt you did I? I mean..."
"No, no." Jack shakes his head. "No."
"I wasn't expecting..."
"Me neither." Jack shakes his head again.
"If the Doctor could see us now." Canton says with a wry smile.
Jack laughs, throwing his head back, and it breaks the connection that had held them in place. They both look down at their hands and Canton reaches his clean hand inside his jacket, retrieving a handkerchief. He does his best to clean them both up before throwing the cloth to the ground.
As the both re-dress Jack nods at Canton.
"I'm sorry about your shirt. I'm not sure how far you'll get dressed like that."
"It's okay. I have more back at my hotel. It’s not far."
"You know," ventures Jack, "if you're in town for a while, if your business is not concluded quickly, I believe it's my turn to get the next round."
Canton smiles in the dark ally.
"I do believe you're right."