The Wrong Side of the Bed (for quitehomoerotic and alien_catcher)

[ambitious_woman]

There were a great many things about Jack Harkness that were endearing. Far to many things, truthfully. Though that was a matter Reinette was studiously choosing not to examine. If one wished to narrow it however? To an acceptable, manageable quantity

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[quitehomoerotic]

Jack didn't always sleep well. He often slept broken or littered with bad dreams. He slept when he had to and not when he wanted to.

But sometimes? Sometimes, he slept because it was merely nice. Slept because he'd tired himself out, because he was comfortable, or because it just felt good.

Such sleep seemed to happen often around Reinette.

When he did sleep, he slept sprawled, his arms out on the bed and legs consuming most of the area, making his mark. An arm often thrown around Reinette beside him until he shifted and moved again, or was unceremoniously prodded aside.

On this occasion it was an accidental shift that forced her the edge off the bed. And so Reinette fell, taking with her both the sheet and the small leather strap that had been discarded on the bed the night before.

He barely noticed at first; continuing to sleep, shifting a little.

But the room was quiet, and he was suddenly cold.

His eyes darted open, and he knew.

Reinette was no longer there. And nor was his wrist strap.

[alien_catcher]

The Torchwood Hub was uncharacteristically quiet.

Gwen wasn't precisely sure where her team was, to be entirely honest, which was just fine with her seeing as she had spent the morning maintaining a precarious balance between polishing off paperwork and perusing YouTube.

So when the incursion alarm went off, blaring in her ears and making her jump out of her seat in a panic, Gwen had to take a moment to get her mindset back into what it meant to be a Torchwood operative.

Which was probably fine, as it was then she noticed what looked unmistakably like the form of a blonde woman with tousled hair, wearing nothing but a bed sheet wrapped around her body.

Gwen activated her headset, barking over the comm. "Oi, Jack, there's an intruder!" She already had her sidearm grasped steadily in her hand, and she felt like a right fool as she pointed it at the clearly - very clearly - unarmed woman in front of her. "Who are you?" she shouted cautiously over the alarm. "How did you get in here?"

[ambitious_woman]

For a moment Reinette could only manage the assault on all of her senses.

The hard expanse of the floor. The hash, artificial ringing that filled her ears. The cold of the air, that not only felt not of home? But not of Jack. Which was irritating all on its own.

Reinette blinked, managing to sit herself straighter and pull into what at least felt somewhat more dignified. It was only then that she became aware of the firm, demanding tones of another woman's voice. There was no mistaking the edge beneath it.

Her gaze fell on the firearm she brandished only briefly, something far more fascinating catching her attention. Reinette pulled herself even straighter still, unmasked fascination working its way over her features.

"Gwen," she identified the woman in front of her, a cobbling together of old photographs and Jack's own stories. "Gwen Cooper."

[alien_catcher]

Gwen had expected a vast variety of answers to come from the woman's mouth. But that? That was not one of them.

The alarm was becoming distracting, pounding against her head and she struggled with one hand to blindly deactivate it. After a few clumsy presses of buttons, the Hub feel into a sudden silence, one that seemed almost louder than the alarm had been.

Keeping her gun aimed for no reason she could name, she appraised the woman with a determined gazed. She hardly seemed a threat but Gwen had seen worse things come from more innocent looking situations.

"How do you know my name?" she demanded.