fic: rain dance (who/torchwood: jack, PG)
title: rain dance
author: phinnia
rating: PG (for one offhanded mention of breasts OH NOES OMG)
pairing: none (gen fic)
spoilers: none really.
disclaimer: a wandering minstrel i, a thing of shreds and patches. i own nothing.
author's note: written for bringthehappy. prompt was 'jack: raindrops'. set pre-COE (as Jack still lives in Cardiff).
Rain was a rare and special thing where Jack grew up. Where he lives now, it rains more often than not. This balance, this differential, has not escaped his notice.
He remembers:
His first stumbling, barefoot steps on the hot sand of his parents' yard, among the shocks of beach grass that shot up in wild spurts of brown-green. Suddenly a drop of water falls - and another, and another, and then the water is in thick sheets and the sand is darkened by some strange alchemy his child-mind can't comprehend. He falls back on his diapered bottom with the shock of it all and laughs in great peals, is swept up into his mother's arms and they dance around the tufts of greenery, her bare breasts and skirted, Jack-laden hips swaying in the rain and the summer heat to their own imagined music.
Three thousand years before that day happens, that boy (now called Jack Harkness) looks up at the heavy sky on a small blue planet that is nothing like his own, and laughs with delight as the first drops fall.
He reaches for his coat, then purposefully ignores it and heads for the invisible lift.
author: phinnia
rating: PG (for one offhanded mention of breasts OH NOES OMG)
pairing: none (gen fic)
spoilers: none really.
disclaimer: a wandering minstrel i, a thing of shreds and patches. i own nothing.
author's note: written for bringthehappy. prompt was 'jack: raindrops'. set pre-COE (as Jack still lives in Cardiff).
Rain was a rare and special thing where Jack grew up. Where he lives now, it rains more often than not. This balance, this differential, has not escaped his notice.
He remembers:
His first stumbling, barefoot steps on the hot sand of his parents' yard, among the shocks of beach grass that shot up in wild spurts of brown-green. Suddenly a drop of water falls - and another, and another, and then the water is in thick sheets and the sand is darkened by some strange alchemy his child-mind can't comprehend. He falls back on his diapered bottom with the shock of it all and laughs in great peals, is swept up into his mother's arms and they dance around the tufts of greenery, her bare breasts and skirted, Jack-laden hips swaying in the rain and the summer heat to their own imagined music.
Three thousand years before that day happens, that boy (now called Jack Harkness) looks up at the heavy sky on a small blue planet that is nothing like his own, and laughs with delight as the first drops fall.
He reaches for his coat, then purposefully ignores it and heads for the invisible lift.