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06 September 2006 @ 10:45 pm
DOCTOR WHO FIC: Some Nights, NC-17  
Story: Some Nights (1/1)
Author: Julie S
Pairing: Rose/Jack
Spoilers: TEC/TDD
Rated: NC-17

Much thanks to wendymr for BRing and help! *hugs*



Some Nights

Captain Jack Harkness had liked the nighttime.

By daylight, he’d had a job to do, lives to save – chiefly his own, repeatedly – and sometimes, as a Time Agent, time hadn’t become night for long, long episodes.

Later, when he wasn’t really Captain Harkness anymore, days had become the time to pretend there wasn’t anything wrong with him, that he wasn’t missing two years of his memory, that he had a place to belong. Daylight had been the time for lies.

But nights had always been his.

Some nights came in the form of succumbing to sleep, dreaming of fights and battles and missions he didn’t truly remember, just out of the realm of his consciousness. Some of those nights, he dreamt good dreams of childhood, or meeting friends, or finding his memories, or his long-past days at the Time Agency, when he still loved his job and trusted his employers. Some nights he simply didn’t dream, and those were the ones he was most grateful for, although he didn’t want to stop dreaming.

Some nights came in the form of a few hours with a girl – or a guy – who needed him just as much as he needed them for that momentum of passion and escape and release. Some nights it was a pretty girl he spotted on a dance floor at a noisy club and kissed senseless until they both desperately fled for privacy. Some nights it was a soldier hurting with his past or a lonely, rejected soul at a quiet bar no one knew. Some nights were heavily alcohol-filled, and some nights they’d simply had a nice dinner or a drink or two before inevitably ending up in a bed of some sort.

Some nights, thought they were few, came in the form of surprises, things he hadn’t planned, such as Chula ships, 1941, and blonde girls clad in Union Jack t-shirts. And tonight... tonight came in the form of the person whose approval he sought most, trusting him with his dearest treasure; and the same blonde girl, although regretfully not wearing the Union Jack – he did like that shirt – was standing beside him, waiting in line for chips.

They were in the forty-seventh century, and one thing stayed constant. Potatoes.

“D’you think they’re much different from the ones in the twentieth century?” Rose asked, bumping into him softly with a grin of curiosity. It was nice like that, just the two of them, friends. He almost never got to see her without the Doctor around, sending him his glares over her shoulder.

A little later, after Rose finally got her chips – slapping his hand away playfully but sharing them in the end – they ended up wandering. It was a nice little town centre - a club there, a pub here, a little theatre, too, and all open all night. This was where he went when he needed night-life. Of course, he had to be careful never to land in the same place at the same time, but it hadn’t been so hard.

“There,” she pointed, and he followed.

It was a little classic bar, he could see even before they entered – the kind that was usually ridiculously over-priced because of its mid-twentieth century authenticity. Retro. “You sure? I mean, this is the future, don’t you want to see how things changed?”

“Can already see,” she replied, pushing the door open. “Same as us, ‘cept cleaner and more aliens.” At his nudge, she amended, “Okay, and maybe a bit more Spock.”

He grinned with slight confusion. “One day you’ll have to explain to me who that Spock is.”

That was Rose – so well-travelled in time and space and this simple place wasn’t going to impress her. But it was just as well – he wasn’t looking to impress her tonight. Tonight they were friends out on the town.

“We’ve only got two hours left,” he reminded her as they sat down at a small corner table. A woman on stage was singing a slow tune about impossible love stories, and the place was dimmed just the right way. Yeah, definitely a twentieth century imitation, but a good one.

They’d wandered for about an hour after the Doctor dropped them off here, letting them know he’d be back for them in a few hours. They weren’t happy with the Doctor leaving them out, at first, but then accepted that his mystery phone call called for him alone. They’d pry details out of him eventually to find out what it was, they vowed to him.

In the meantime, however, they had that time to spend together. They didn’t have to spend any time away – the Doctor could set the TARDIS to come back seconds after leaving – but it was nice, all the same. He’d never thought the Doctor would allow him to be alone with Rose for this long, anyway – and it was good to know he finally trusted him.

A minute after they were seated inside, a short-skirted waitress with a haircut from almost three millennia ago approached them. “Hi, folks. Ready to order anything?”

Rose smiled brilliantly at that. “Yeah, what was that drink you were telling us about, Jack?”

Oh, no. She was not getting anywhere near intoxicated tonight. The Doctor would kill him. He could just see him pointing his sonic screwdriver at him, even now before she had a sip.

“Orange juice?” he asked hopefully.

She shook her head, still staring into a corner in the room, trying to remember. “Nice try, no, and don’t you try to play parent on me. Something with vodka... hypervodka? Yes, a hypervodka for me, please.”

He turned to the young woman. “Don’t suppose the legal drinking age here is over nineteen?”

She laughed. “No drinking age here, buddy. Good luck with the girlfriend, hope you’re the one driving.”

Jack grinned and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, we have a pretty good designated driver meeting us later.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, thanks, I’ll stay sober tonight.”

“And I’m not his girlfriend!” Rose cried as the waitress left them towards the bar.

After a bottle was brought to their table, he poured her a glass. “You sure about this? It’s not like the vodka you’re used to. Stronger. “

She brushed him off. “Let me experience culture properly!”

“Well, we could’ve gone to the theatre if you wanted culture... you’re the one who found this club, which, I might add, is a twentieth-century authentic replica. Except for the hypervodka.”

“Alcohol is culture,” she said with a teasing smile and shook her head as if to add, ‘duh.’

“You’re explaining it to the Doctor, not me.”

And then he watched her down it in horror. Laughed at the way her face recoiled. “How’s culture?”

She laughed at his expression when she’d stopped cringing. “Oh, give me some credit. It’s just one shot.”

“I told you, this is not what you’re used to,” he warned again. And maybe it was better to just let her try it out. After all, that was the way he learned his lessons – he had never been able to just listen to his elders...

Maybe she wouldn’t be that drunk, anyway. Just tipsy. Tipsy he could handle, and as long as he stopped her from having too many of these she’d be fine by the time the Doctor was back to collect them.

She was silent for a few seconds, as if waiting for something to happen. “See? Fine.”

He grinned. “Okay, just don’t tell me I didn’t warn you later.” It was a little exciting in a perverse way, watching his friend get in over her head like that. Knowing that if she didn’t stop after the first or second, she’d be stumbling all the way to the TARDIS... and if she had a fourth, she wouldn’t even remember him carrying her there.

“What are you so worried about, anyway? Not like I’m such a bad drunk,” she said cheekily.

He raised an eyebrow. “What kind of drunk are you, then?”

She leaned over the table and started pouring herself a second. “Maybe you’re about to find out.”

He decided to ignore the blatant attempt at a flirt. Not tonight, not when the Doctor wasn’t around, not when she’d just had a very strong drink and doesn’t even know how drunk she’s about to get... if he cooperated, he might not be able to help himself. “The Doctor will kill me if I get you drunk.”

“You’re not getting me drunk, I’m getting me drunk,” she replied, but he was relieved to see she wasn’t touching the second shot. “And see, still fine. Just a buzz. I can hold a drink.”

“You just make sure you stay sitting down,” he said, grinning.

She waved her hand dismissively and sprang to her feet. “I’m not staying sitting down. Come on, Captain, we’re dancin’!” she announced with glee, and grabbed his arm in a slightly uncoordinated manner. “New song on!”

“Should’ve used reverse psychology on you, Rose Tyler.”

“Oh, pfft. I’m experiencing culture!”

“It’s a-“

“Twentieth century place, yeah, yeah. Then maybe you’re the one who needs to experience culture. Up!” She tugged on his arm and he stood up, taking her hand. A spark ran up his arm as he tightened his hold, but she seemed oblivious.

He should’ve tried better to stop her drinking. He was so dead.

She laughed as she tripped over her feet halfway there and he caught her.

“You’re barely standing!”

“Jus’ dizzy,” she said, still smiling. “Won’t fall if you hold me.”

And his heart melted. He wrapped his arms around her waist on the dance floor and closed his eyes when the fragrant smell of her hair filled his nostrils. She clung to him, eyes closed. The soft, slow ballad of Rose’s time surrounded them with a blanket of sound.

Absently, a minute later, he felt Rose kiss his neck gently.

He stiffened and kept his reaction at bay. What was she doing? And then she did it again, and he felt the tip of her tongue graze his skin.

“Rose,” he said, gripping her arms gently and distancing himself. “Better not.”

“Oh, but we have these perfectly good few hours all to ourselves.” She leaned in as far as she could, despite his hold on her. “I want you, Jack,” she whispered.

“You’re drunk,” he responded. When had the mood suddenly changed so drastically? It was not a good idea. The Doctor would chuck him out into open space quicker than he could say nanogenes, and that was without considering her drunken state.

Your balance always went first, though, he knew from experience, and lack of that didn’t mean your mind was equally cloudy. And yet her judgement had to be impaired for her to come onto him so strongly.

It suddenly became hot in the club.

“I am not drunk,” she said indignantly. “Just… have a buzz.”

“Hypervodka is much more potent than what you’re used to, Rose.” And it was.

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be good.”

A small, affectionate smile spread across his lips. He ran his hands down her arms and guided her palms around his waist, then wrapped his arms around her again.

They swayed with the melody for a short while, enjoying the calm and closeness, until her whisper brought him out of his thoughts again. “When we were dancing on that spaceship, was it all a con, then?”

He closed his eyes. “No,” he admitted. “But we can’t.” He did find her very attractive. If it weren’t for the Doctor, she’d probably have been in his bed by now. But getting to know her – both of them – changed everything.

“Why not? We’re adults, Jack.”

“The Doctor trusts me-“

“Forget the Doctor for one night, Jack,” she said, cutting him off. Her hand traveled down to cover his rear, and he swallowed. “I love him and all, but he’s never going to give me what I want, so I don’t owe him anything.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying –“

She cut him off again. “I can hold my liquor, Jack. And I can tell you want this too.” She resumed her trail of kisses down his neck.

God. Women didn’t appreciate how much easier it was for them to control their bodies – or at least hide their reactions more effectively. “No, really...”

Among his coherent thoughts were a faint surrender, agreement with the fact that maybe she was right, that they were adults and that, if the Doctor wasn’t claiming her, she didn’t have to stay faithful to that relationship.

He could hear, he had to admit, that the few minutes they’d been dancing had been enough to clear her mind. Her speech was clear and she didn’t feel like she was slumped against him. It had only been one shot and Rose was no stranger to alcohol, even if it was hypervodka.

Yet it was still wrong.

“You like him too, don’t you?”

Her question caught him off guard and he stood unspeaking for a few moments. “What?”

“You like him too, I can tell.” She stopped kissing him. “You may not admit it, Jack, but I see how you look at him.”

He tightened his lips and took a deep breath. Damn it, he didn’t think he was that transparent. Hadn’t he had heaps of training at the Time Agency to hide that kind of thing? And this girl could see through him.

He’d tried not to develop feelings for the other man, but his dark nature and the enigma that surrounded him had been stronger than any resistance he could put up. Worse – he’d gone and developed the same feelings for her. For the young woman, who, despite the experience she’d gained travelling with the Doctor before they’d met, was only a human girl from the early twenty-first century, not yet out of her teens, and still extraordinary in an undeniable way.

He only hoped she hadn’t seen that as well.

She caught him off guard again as she slid out of his arms far enough to press her lips to his. He pulled back slightly but she leaned in, not allowing him to break the contact.

Her lips were so soft and warm, it was so easy to kiss her.

He’d wondered what kissing her would be like. And that was new. Jack Harkness didn’t wonder what anything would feel like; Jack Harkness got the girl and found out. It had been a long time since he’d hesitated, unsure, about making a move, and a long time since he’d set such tight boundaries for himself.

She slowly pushed him, directed him out of the way of other dancing couples on the dance floor. Abruptly, she pulled away and he opened his eyes in question and regret at the loss.

Rose smiled and gripped his hand in her smaller one, then led him after her, steady on her feet now, into a small corridor he was fairly certain may have been off-limits. She pulled him through a door, next, marked with a small sketch of a person, he saw out of the corner of his eye. Flicking the switch on the wall, she illuminated the room, then closed the door and clicked the small button on the handle, locking the rest of the world outside.

“Forgot they liked to do the single-stall bathroom thing in your time,” he said after briefly scanning the small room.

She laughed. “This isn’t a twentieth century bathroom. Too clean.”

He laughed and wrapped his arms around her again, lifting her to sit on the counter beside the sink, just wide enough for her. This was it. She was right - they had no reason to hold back, to play games. And if she wasn’t, at least it was something he knew he couldn’t regret.

She parted her knees and he pulled her close, looking at her from an inch away. “Are you sure you want this, Rose?”

“Stop wasting time,” she commanded, wrapping her arms around his neck, and that was enough of a reassurance for him. The tenderness of earlier was traded for hungry, hot kisses that were accompanied by welcomed and wandering hands. She slid one hand under his shirt to press against his smooth stomach as he pushed her skirt up around her waist and pulled her close to him.

Both of them moaned at the contact and Rose send her hands down towards his zipper, breaking the kiss. He nuzzled her neck and then planted a kiss on her neck, payback for her earlier teasing, soft and hot. His hand slid up her top and into the inside of a bra cup. She stopped only for a second and moaned softly again, then continued until she had everything unzipped and pushed his trousers back and down, gently wrapping her palm around his erection and eliciting a groan from him.

“Feels nice,” she said slowly, running her palm down the length of it.

Jack closed his eyes. “I aim to please.”

“Aim well this time,” she replied, and pulled her head back to kiss him on the lips again, tongues no longer asking permission before beginning their game.

He’d have blushed or groaned at her words, but he’d heard worse many times before. He slid his hand in between them instead, pushing past the band of her underwear. She was ready, so ready, and she practically gasped into his mouth when he slid in a finger. “I want you now, Jack,” she said, repeating what she’d said to him earlier, only this time she was so breathless and flushed that he believed she knew exactly what she was saying.

And he wanted her too, now, too much to keep them both waiting. He slid his arms around her again and lifted her close to him, joining them with one thrust.

“God, Jack,” she whispered breathlessly.

He waited a few seconds for her and then repeated the motion. She returned her mouth to his and suddenly he needed to be even closer to her than he was, to set this apart from any casual encounter he’d ever had, because this was Rose and Rose was special.

He continued, listening for her steady moans, her little sighs and prompts, getting to know her on a new level. He leaned his forehead on hers. “So beautiful,” he whispered. Their rhythm quickly became fast and hard in a race for release, for what they’d both wanted since they’d met, really.

As he felt himself inching closer to the end, increasing his tempo, he felt her tighten and she threw her head back with a gasp and his name, repeated a few times, almost as if she kept forgetting she’d uttered it after each time. He let her ride out her release and then hugged her, allowing himself to go over the precipice as well.

They panted against each other. Rose opened her eyes a few seconds later, catching her breath just barely. He stepped back, still holding onto to her waist, and she slid off the counter, straightening her clothes slightly awkwardly as he moved to do the same.

Her smile was shaky. “That was something.”

He smiled back, brilliantly. “That was. Rose?”

“Yeah?”

“You know I like you too, right?”

“What?”

“Not just him. I like you too. A lot.” He leaned in and kissed her sweetly, taking her hand in his.

She smiled. “Good. ’Cause so do I.”

She led him back into the coffee house, where the dance floor was still too busy for anyone to have noticed their absence.

-Fin-




x-posted to better_with_3 and galactic_conman
 
 
 
dark_aegis: OT3dark_aegis on September 7th, 2006 03:38 am (UTC)
*echoes nnwest* Wonderful stuff, m'dear! :)