Occasionally, I am hit by an insatiable need to read a particular fic.
Frequently, those fics don't actually exist.
Occasionally, I actually write the fic in question.
Frequently, I just whine until either someone one else writes it for me (or points it out to me if it already exists) or something better comes along.
Today, this it twofold.
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'Names, Tim, we want names!"
He won't give them anything, let alone a name. The cameras are still rolling, for one thing, and he's positive that 'Captain Jack Harkness' was not the man's real name.
Once the cameras stop for the night, once the designers make their weary ways back to their apartments, once he's said his last 'make it work,' once he can be just Tim again, he can only smile to himself in memory. It's a small bittersweet smile, full of regret but tinged with something else, something that is almost affection.
It was a vintage 1940's RAF coat, he'd noticed, an eyebrow quirking upward as he took in the rest of the man who'd be so bold as to wear such a thing in the middle of 1990's London. Bold blue eyes and bolder smile, the man had grinned at him from across the room, over his pint, eyebrows needlessly asking if he liked what he saw.
It was then that Tim noticed the suspenders. Wouldn't have been so bad, really, but with the belt? Curiosity soured to disapproval; he ( ... )
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(Bless him and his reserve.)
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Um, excuse me, i think you mean WE SHALL SPEAK OF THIS ALL THE TIME BECAUSE IT IS AMAZING XD
Oh my god, I love it. I LOVE TIM'S RESTRAINT. And his, you know, everything, because he is Tim.
AHAHAHAHA YES HIGHLIGHT OF MY MORNING.
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