Captain Jack Harkness

Now was probably not the right time to tell Jack about a combination of knowledge of colour patterns as well as extensive Time Lord senses that made detecting pheromones a walk in the proverbial jurassic park. Especially not when his ship was cooing happily at Jack, like he was her long lost dad.

Which in a way he was, but the TARDIR wasn’t anywhere as nice to him, and he was her dad too.

But it was hard to stand around and sulk when Jack(!) was standing(!) right(!!) in front(!!!) of him(!!!!) Lunging at the captain, he pulled him into a tight hug, a massive grin splitting his face. 

“Where are we and what’s this place? And why are plants trying to kill you? What did you do to them? And dinosaurs while sometimes aggressive aren’t usually quite this hostile, are they?”

He peered around, still in the dark about which planet and time period they were in, which was … perplexing at best, and downright frustrating at worst. He was … lost. And he was never lost! A Time Lord couldn’t get lost!

Jack wasn’t expecting the hug -- not because it was from Doc, but because he hadn’t had any sort of non-murderous contact in a very long time. It was nice, it felt nice, and once Jack got over the initial shock, he relaxed and hugged the half Time Lord back.

“I...don’t know, I also don’t know, and I did nothing to them,“ he paused, so okay it wasn’t exactly a lie. “There was a moment where I tried to see if any were edible and that may have upset them, but in my defense I had no idea we were dealing with sentient plants.“

He frowned at the last question, unsure how to answer it -- seeing as he didn’t exactly have enough experience in the field to confirm or deny about dinosaurs and their personalities. “I would say... they are aggressive by nature, but to be fair, I haven’t ran into many herbivores.”

The dinosaur’s claws passed mere millimeters over Doc’s head as he ducked. Scrambling, he ducked against his ship as Jack attacked (Jack attack? Attack Jack? – Now was not the time to appreciate the rhyme, but he just couldn’t help himself.).

“Don’t kill her!” he yelled, wondering where on this planet Jack had gotten a spear, when his webley was his usual weapon of choice. Staring fairly uselessly at the struggle, Doc contemplated how he could get close enough to knock the dilophosaurus (oof, what a mouthful!) without getting skewered by those claws. “I’m fine, right as rain. Well, not that rain is–” running a hand through his hair in frustration, he banged on his ship’s door. The TARDIR responded with a groan and a flap beep and refused to admit him. 

“Why are there… dinosaurs?” he said. “Can we tie her up? Do you have rope? Anything? I’d talk to her, but I only speak T-rex and even then I’m incredibly rusty…”

This was no time to argue and Jack knew that, so instead of debating about whether he should or shouldn’t kill the dinosaur, the Captain quickly closed in on the choke hold he had on it and waited until it stopped struggling, effectively putting it to sleep.

They could argue about its fate later.

“How... in the limited time of being acquainted with it, did you know that it was a ‘her’?“ Pushing the Dilophosaurus off of him, he pulled himself off the ground and dusted his clothes off. “It’s nice to see you too, Doc, by the way.“ He gave the other a small smile before picking up his spear.

Glancing over at the TARDIR, Jack gave a friendly nod towards her as well. “And you too, girl.“ Sliding his gaze back to Doc, the Captain stood there for a moment before giving a very unhelpful shrug. “I don’t honestly know, but what I do know is that both plants and animals are out to kill you here.“ He paused and tilted his head, “Maybe back at where I’m staying, and if not there, I might have some rope at another hideout.”

A general sinking feeling of “I have a bad feeling about this” was nothing unusual for Doc. The TARDIR hitting a stray slipstream in the vortex and going into a dramatic tailspin was equally ordinary. Him being tossed around the console room was absolutely, completely, par-for-the-course.

But even as he scrambled for the console and tried to coax his ship out of the magenta alert tantrum that she’d fallen into, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something all too familiar about this. That this wasn’t just an alert, this wasn’t just a rough patch of the vortex – this was a rough patch that he’d been through before…

…and more importantly, hadn’t liked.

But before he could put a finger or ten on it, the ship screeched, and all the lights - even the emergency ones - failed.

Then she hit the ground.

He came to in the smoke-filled darkness, his time sense so scrambled that he couldn’t tell whether he had been out for a second or a few days. It took a quick survey of his surroundings to realise that it was probably closer to the latter, since there was a fire that was starting to spread, the flames the only source of light in the room. Jumping to his feet, he managed to grab a fire extinguisher and turned it on the fire, while beating a hasty retreat for the door. His ship groaned faintly in the back of his mind, something indistinct about messed up time streams and the wrong vortex and indigestion. He didn’t have time to deal with it - the smoke was building up rapidly, and he barely made it to the doors before they flung themselves open and his ship all but booted him out.

“Rude!” he yelled, shaking his fist as he landed on soft ground. His ship blew the equivalent of a mental raspberry, telling him that his amateur fire-fighting attempts were making this worse, not better, then slammed the doors on him and locked them.

“Oi!” he yelled, but long experience informed him that the TARDIR was going to be like this for a while. This was definitely something she had picked up from her mother. 

Sighing, he hefted the fire extinguisher and glanced around, trying to suss out where he was. The planet didn’t seem familiar. There was something very off about this place - wrong but in a disturbingly familiar way, just as there was something familiarly wrong with the presence that was approaching him…

He glanced up in absolute shock as the voice reached him.

And - of course, because this was the way these things always went - before he even had the chance to say hello, a large dilophosaurus came crashing out of the bush and launched itself at them.

For once, Jack actually hoped that this God-forsaken jungle would cut him a break. Of course, as he should have predicted, it wasn’t going to. Snapping out of his trance, Jack bent down to pick up his spear before rounding around the TARDIR and making his way behind the Dilophosaurus as it launched itself at Doc.

“No!“ Jack shouted before diving forward with spear aimed. “Get off of him-“ he stabbed the spear at the animal’s hide as it reared back and forced the back of its skull into his face. Grunting from the sudden force, Jack reeled back and instinctively made free one of his hands to touch his bleeding nose.

Pulling his hand back, Jack looked down at the blood before shaking it off. “Oh no you don’t.“ He re-positioned the bone spear to fit horizontally against the dinosaurs neck before grabbing it at both ends and pulling his weight and the dinosaur backwards.

“Doc!“ He struggled against the writhing Dilophosaurus as it gnashed its teeth wildly trying to grab any part of him that it could. “Can you move? Are you okay?“ He continued to pull the dinosaur down until he was flat on his back and it was lying on top of him and facing the sky.

Catching Jack’s shoulder as he turned away, he smirked when Jack turned back, then carefully wiped his blood stained fingers across his own lips, before leaning in to seal them over Jack’s. 

The taste of power was more than enough to override the stench of the blood.

“We can’t have you starving to death,” he said, pulling back just a little, knowing that his neck was still bleeding and this was likely driving Jack crazy. “I can spare some. If you don’t mind the taste, of course.”

Feeling his hand on his shoulder, Jack silently cursed himself before turning back around to face him. It was then that his fangs had emerged once more as John’s bloodied fingers traced his lips.

Normally, under any other circumstance, Jack would be giving in. Now he was doing all that he could to resist.

“I can’t,” he whispered, scared that if he drank anymore of John’s blood that he would end up draining him and leaving him for dead -or worse; turning him. Swallowing thickly, he silently pleaded with John to stop inviting him and to stop teasing him so.

Jack clearly believed they’d be stuck as monsters for the foreseeable future but he still wouldn’t be willing to provide another quick-fix like this. Gwen felt cheated and teased but she willed herself to make the most of what she had for as long as it could last. She nodded slowly to convey that much. 

The understanding she’d implied, however, was not meant to extend to his wild plans for the parlour nor this means of transport. Gwen squirmed and grumbled something particularly vulgar until she thought better of it and did her best to hold on, fearing what might happen if Jack set her down less than gently. 

Huffing out a clearly annoyed sigh, Jack shook his head at his friend. “Gwen,” he started, kneeling down before her and placing one hand in her lap and the other to caress her face. “What is the daylight going to do to both of us? Maybe it’s an overcast day in the Pocket and we’ll get lucky?”

Clearly, he was just trying to find some sort of method to keep both of them entertained, but it wasn’t exactly working. 

“Or we could do something else...? Gossip about Owen? Rhys? Doc? Talk about how we could strangle some people? You know, just...” like the good old days. Is what he was wanting to say but found he couldn’t.

“How is Rhys, by the way?” He hadn’t seen the Welshman in a while and wondered if something had happened to him. “Last I saw he told Sam that he was running into the forest with Emrys... I haven’t heard from him since.” It was disturbing when Rhys went silent, because Rhys never went silent.

As in, blood. I mean, I could suck other things but...

Different topic.

Characters: Jack, Doc Timeline: Some time wibbly wobbly and timey wimey (pre Event 10, possibly)

Warnings: Do not read while consuming food or liquid. Or bananas.

Indeed, it disappeared…with the rest of the things. The Diogenes Club was no more and the library was finally back. Mycroft started feeling better, good, his body had been to the verge of not coming back. Mycroft looked at Jack and then at the room where they were in. It was one of the library’s rooms. However, Mycroft’s deduction skills were telling him that something was different.

For a moment, Mycroft thought to not doing anything because of Jack’s presence and he would have done so, but Jack had demonstrated to be friendly and not a foe. So, he walked towards the shelf where the book that Jack had used was and he did the same. The wall opened up revealing not a passageway this time, but a new little room.

Groaning, the Captain hung his head only to suddenly feel like a giant weight was lifted from him and when he looked over at Mycroft he realised the other man seemed to feel the same thing. Taking a better look at his new surroundings, Jack straightened up and slowly let the other Holmes go. “What...”

The question died on his lips as he glanced around, both happy and aggravated that the place had given up on them so soon and that it returned to normal. Spinning around, he looked back behind him towards where they had come from and whispered a string of confused curse words before turning to look back at his friend.

Watching as the other started moving around, Jack gave him a nod and then a raised brow. “I’m fine, better than before actually. How-” he paused and tilted his head to the side. “Why do you think the library did this?” It was the only thing he could think of asking. However, both of Jack’s brows shot up at the information that Mycroft had provided him. “Keep them safe, you never know who might want to access them.” He gave him a soft smile, “and don’t worry about me or my team, if we wanted that sort of information, we’d hack into it.” He gave a small shrug.

He nodded in agreement when Jack called it a shame that they hadn’t seen much of each other. He didn’t really care much before, he wasn’t normally distracted by attractive people or flirtations, but now– he did. What was that about?

He tried to think about it, but Jack had walked past him and down into the Hub, Sherlock’s eyes mysteriously and through no fault of his own trailing down to Jack’s ass before shooting back up to his face. What had he said? The pleasure was all his? Sherlock was sure that wasn’t true. He followed Jack’s invitation into the office, not sensing the potential “trap” aspect of the situation. 

Theories. That fritzed Sherlock’s mind back to its regular state. What sort of things could they test, really? Except–

He’d apologise, but he wouldn’t mean it and he was sure Sherlock wouldn’t accept it anyway. Giving him a greater smile, one that seemed genuine enough, Jack nodded. “I have yet to try angel blood, only demon.” He made a face and shuttered involuntarily.

“Which I don’t recommend by the way, tastes like sulfur and it’s addicting. Two things to stay away from,” he tilted his head as he stared at Sherlock’s face. The man was handsome in his own right and something about him drew the immortal to him. Stepping closer, Jack brought a careful hand up to the younger Holmes’ face, cupping his sharply lined cheek into his palm.

“Would you...” he pursed his lips as his eyes graced over the man’s jawline and then meeting his own gaze. “Allow me to try some of your...” his fangs popped then, showing the danger that he was, if not  a beautiful one.

He grit his teeth, and sneered at Jack, putting all his strength into keeping Jack on the ground. “You’re a fucking twat,” He spat, ribbing his elbow into the Captain’s neck.  

When Owen de-solidified, Jack let out a loud, howling, raspy laugh as he sat up and pushed himself to his knees so that if he needed to stand he could. He rubbed at his neck before giving his team member a grizzly grin.

“Sorry Owen, but just because you say it, it doesn’t mean it’s true.” He placed a hand on his hip as he tilted his head. “The ‘fucking’ part in ghost. You haven’t been able to shag anything in quite a long time, right? Sucks to be you. Not literally.”

It splashed over his hand as the glass sliced through skin, and for a moment, he couldn’t think. The urge to kill flared up, dark and ugly, and as Jack backed away, he lunged for him, slamming him down to the ground, as the world seemed to go darker.

“Oh yes, of course,” he said. “Should have realised that a vampire needs blood. Really, you should just have asked.” He clamped down on the killing instinct, considering how to turn this situation to his advantage. Jack was loyal to him, it was true, but even then, there were surely limits to that loyalty. Perhaps something more binding..

“It’s addictive, you know,” he said conversationally. “Demon blood. How much did you take?”

True, his neck was on fire and he was feeling the effects of blood loss, but it seemed that either his demon or Time Lord physiology was still capable of keeping up with it - for now. Wiping at the still-bleeding open wound on his neck, he ran his tongue across the blood, before sniffing at it inquisitively. “Though I daresay it tastes pretty awful.”

Pausing, Jack raised a brow when John began to explain the effects of demon blood and how it was and could be an addiction. 

“I’ve heard rumours about that, yeah.” He spoke quietly, feeling even more ashamed that he’d done it than he did before. “I don’t know. Not enough to kill you, but enough to make you feel weak.” Frowning, Jack placed a hand over his mouth to resist anymore temptation before turning away from his friend.

“It’s disgusting-” he paused and whirled around to give John a wide-eyed look. “No offense! But you taste like rotten eggs and iron. Not very pretty.” He gave a sort of shrug before attempting a smile. 

Good looks and brains – they don’t make ‘em like that anymore. Pity. 

Yes. You do. 

Oh, you always did like playing hard to get. But here’s one for your ego - I’m done with you, Captain Jack. Here I was, buggering off Earth, happy to never see your smug mug ever again, but as luck would have it…

Still, what’s the phrase? Busy life. Moving on.

Oh I will. 

And good. I’m glad. Makes it easier for the both of us to move on. Have fun tearing a new hole into the town. I’m sure everyone will tolerate you on some level.

Good.

Oh, come on. Who’s bringing up the five year stint now? And for your information, that stint was intense. Imagine! Punching each other on repeat for five years. I think your wrinkles are engraved into my knuckles.

You’re welcome. You know, pointing out your shortfalls so your ego doesn’t swell is sort of my job. And is that an invitation? Kinky. You know I love the biting.

Ah, I knew my old partner would come through. Who is this Meg, and where can I find her?

Listen John, I’m sure your days are filled with trying to figure out which way to comb your hair so the comb over isn’t becoming obvious but let’s just leave the past where it belongs instead of trying to drag it out on each other.

And yes, it was an invitation but now I take it back since you had to spell it out.

The bar. she’s little, blonde, and she might eat you. Have fun.