Four Time Travelers and a Funeral
My Muse is officially a nutter. {stalks her with spork}
Title: Four Time Travelers and a Funeral
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I think they'd be too busy trying to figure out what was going on anyway
Summary: He's so vain, he probably thinks this fic is about him...
Notes: It was probably inevitable, under the circumstances. I've started Teaspooning these darn things according to rough internal chronology, if you're starting to need a scorecard like I am.
*******
"Well, he was a friend of mine too," the Doctor said. "And I've been busy. Saving the world, all that usual thing?"
"Are you forgetting that I was already at that funeral?"
"Right, and you're not to shag yourself, either. -- You know, usually that should go without saying, but, this is you we're talking about."
He'd gone nuts, Jack had decided. There wasn't anybody behind the Great And Powerful Oz's curtain anymore. And dragging him here again, without any seeming regard for the possible consequences --
Well, okay, that last part was vintage him, all right. But it still didn't quite add up.
As graveside services went it was a more than respectable turnout, standing room only and more than enough overflow that Jack and the Doctor would have had to stand at the back even with a written invitation. As it was, the Time Lord was positively lurking, holding up a tree with such an air of studied indifference that Jack nearly wondered why he'd bothered to come at all.
And, oh, yes, there they were in the background. The team, his team, centuries gone to him now. But there they all were, young and fresh-faced, and standing at their head was himself, looking like he still looked in his own head, never mind the lies his shaving mirror was beginning to tell him on his rougher mornings. And, oh, he, the consummate flirt, had just caught his own eye. You would think I would remember this, Jack thought, as he watched Harkness's other eyebrow go up in surprise.
But then again, this is me we're talking about.
"I'm going down to the pub," Jack said. The Doctor made a noise that could have been Sod off then, don't destroy any universes I wouldn't destroy or possibly When I realize what you just said you're going to wish you could die, but he made no move to stop Jack turning and walking away, back down the gentle rise above the village centre.
As he'd expected, Harkness was only a minute or two behind him. "Hey, handsome. Is this another one of those things I'm not supposed to know about?"
"'Fraid so."
"Damn Blinovitch. You think the universe would really be destroyed by a little hot Jack-on-Jack action?"
"...Damn straight," they both said together, and laughed so hard that Harkness upset Jack's drink. Jack just stopped himself from trying to catch it at the same moment that Harkness did.
"Yeah, 'sparks flew when we kissed' is better as a metaphor, I suppose," Harkness said, carefully setting the glass back on the table and taking his hand away. "So, um, is he...?"
"Oh, yeah, same as always," Jack said. "Besides that he's gone completely batshit crazy." Harkness's face said And you can tell? "I told him if he brought me here today I'd find myself irresistable, but here we are."
"Must be important to him, then," Harkness said.
"The great Lethbridge-Stewart," Jack said, swirling what little remained of his drink around in the bottom of the glass. "They must have known each other pret-ty well back in the day."
"You'd think he'd have come sooner, though," Harkness said. Jack exhaled and sat back in his chair.
"I think this would have counted as 'domestic'," he said.
"But not now." This was rather nice, this having a conversation with yourself, when you were quick enough to pick up on your own cues. Jack caught himself wondering what it would be like, and hastily banished the thought.
"Guy goes to funerals to cheer himself up. You tell me that's normal even for him?"
"Still needs to get laid, in short," Harkness said, summarizing the situation pretty neatly Jack thought.
"Yeah, well," Jack muttered. Harkness looked at him sharply.
"So I've got losing my touch to look forward to. Thanks."
"Hey, this is him we're talking about. Sometimes I'm not even sure he's a mammal."
"Never used to let that stop me. Sure you don't want to make out?" Jack snorted. "Now I know I get old. Your loss, buddy. I'm going to be thinking of you and laughing when I'm screwing around with Ianto later tonight."
"Just remember that that's going to be your lonely bed in another couple of centuries, pal. All my love to Sweetcheeks, eh? That ought to piss him off, having to picture that lost opportunity."
"I don't need his brain melted, I won't be able to find anything," Harkness said. With a look that suggested he was having a little trouble not picturing it himself.
"Look, I better run before they come looking for you," Jack said. "-- I'd say take care, but what's the point?" Harkness gave him a wry grin and a mock salute.
Still don't remember any of it, Jack thought as he walked out of the pub. But I guess if I'm not in there with a fistful of retcon right now I'd remember me firing myself instead.
For once, it was the Doctor who'd forgotten the bit about not wandering off; after a fair-length stroll that did little to clear his head, Jack finally spotted the Time Lord at the end of a lane, sitting on the running-board of an immaculately kept old-fashioned roadster beside an eccentrically dressed gentleman, passing what looked like chips in a bag back and forth with a girl in vintage dolly-bird style. God, he'd hated that revival the first time around. "Hate to break up your lunch date, Doctor, but I just spent half an hour trying to chat myself up and I think I'm beginning to weaken."
The older man looked at the Doctor and waggled his eyebrows dramatically, which the Time Lord seemed to find hysterically funny. "All right, Jack, I'll be there in a minute."
*******
And this time we have a DVD extra --
ELEVEN REASONS CAPTAIN JACK HARKNESS IS NOT ALLOWED TO SHAG HIMSELF:
The Blinovitch Limitation Effect is not a toy.
Destroying the universe might seem worth it at the time, but you'll regret it in the morning.
"I wanted to see what the back of my own head looked like" is not a valid excuse.
Neither is "We could make a fortune with this tape on eBay." Violating the laws of physics for personal gain is simply petty.
You're not supposed to be able to reach that with that.
Or that with that.
Nature only made one of you because that's how things are supposed to be, not because she's a "thoughtless bitch".
Or an "unimaginative" one.
Yes, I know he gets to do it. You're not him.
No, not even after that long.
And you may not have any shame, but just think of all the therapy that poor paramedic is going to have to go through.
Title: Four Time Travelers and a Funeral
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I think they'd be too busy trying to figure out what was going on anyway
Summary: He's so vain, he probably thinks this fic is about him...
Notes: It was probably inevitable, under the circumstances. I've started Teaspooning these darn things according to rough internal chronology, if you're starting to need a scorecard like I am.
*******
"Well, he was a friend of mine too," the Doctor said. "And I've been busy. Saving the world, all that usual thing?"
"Are you forgetting that I was already at that funeral?"
"Right, and you're not to shag yourself, either. -- You know, usually that should go without saying, but, this is you we're talking about."
He'd gone nuts, Jack had decided. There wasn't anybody behind the Great And Powerful Oz's curtain anymore. And dragging him here again, without any seeming regard for the possible consequences --
Well, okay, that last part was vintage him, all right. But it still didn't quite add up.
As graveside services went it was a more than respectable turnout, standing room only and more than enough overflow that Jack and the Doctor would have had to stand at the back even with a written invitation. As it was, the Time Lord was positively lurking, holding up a tree with such an air of studied indifference that Jack nearly wondered why he'd bothered to come at all.
And, oh, yes, there they were in the background. The team, his team, centuries gone to him now. But there they all were, young and fresh-faced, and standing at their head was himself, looking like he still looked in his own head, never mind the lies his shaving mirror was beginning to tell him on his rougher mornings. And, oh, he, the consummate flirt, had just caught his own eye. You would think I would remember this, Jack thought, as he watched Harkness's other eyebrow go up in surprise.
But then again, this is me we're talking about.
"I'm going down to the pub," Jack said. The Doctor made a noise that could have been Sod off then, don't destroy any universes I wouldn't destroy or possibly When I realize what you just said you're going to wish you could die, but he made no move to stop Jack turning and walking away, back down the gentle rise above the village centre.
As he'd expected, Harkness was only a minute or two behind him. "Hey, handsome. Is this another one of those things I'm not supposed to know about?"
"'Fraid so."
"Damn Blinovitch. You think the universe would really be destroyed by a little hot Jack-on-Jack action?"
"...Damn straight," they both said together, and laughed so hard that Harkness upset Jack's drink. Jack just stopped himself from trying to catch it at the same moment that Harkness did.
"Yeah, 'sparks flew when we kissed' is better as a metaphor, I suppose," Harkness said, carefully setting the glass back on the table and taking his hand away. "So, um, is he...?"
"Oh, yeah, same as always," Jack said. "Besides that he's gone completely batshit crazy." Harkness's face said And you can tell? "I told him if he brought me here today I'd find myself irresistable, but here we are."
"Must be important to him, then," Harkness said.
"The great Lethbridge-Stewart," Jack said, swirling what little remained of his drink around in the bottom of the glass. "They must have known each other pret-ty well back in the day."
"You'd think he'd have come sooner, though," Harkness said. Jack exhaled and sat back in his chair.
"I think this would have counted as 'domestic'," he said.
"But not now." This was rather nice, this having a conversation with yourself, when you were quick enough to pick up on your own cues. Jack caught himself wondering what it would be like, and hastily banished the thought.
"Guy goes to funerals to cheer himself up. You tell me that's normal even for him?"
"Still needs to get laid, in short," Harkness said, summarizing the situation pretty neatly Jack thought.
"Yeah, well," Jack muttered. Harkness looked at him sharply.
"So I've got losing my touch to look forward to. Thanks."
"Hey, this is him we're talking about. Sometimes I'm not even sure he's a mammal."
"Never used to let that stop me. Sure you don't want to make out?" Jack snorted. "Now I know I get old. Your loss, buddy. I'm going to be thinking of you and laughing when I'm screwing around with Ianto later tonight."
"Just remember that that's going to be your lonely bed in another couple of centuries, pal. All my love to Sweetcheeks, eh? That ought to piss him off, having to picture that lost opportunity."
"I don't need his brain melted, I won't be able to find anything," Harkness said. With a look that suggested he was having a little trouble not picturing it himself.
"Look, I better run before they come looking for you," Jack said. "-- I'd say take care, but what's the point?" Harkness gave him a wry grin and a mock salute.
Still don't remember any of it, Jack thought as he walked out of the pub. But I guess if I'm not in there with a fistful of retcon right now I'd remember me firing myself instead.
For once, it was the Doctor who'd forgotten the bit about not wandering off; after a fair-length stroll that did little to clear his head, Jack finally spotted the Time Lord at the end of a lane, sitting on the running-board of an immaculately kept old-fashioned roadster beside an eccentrically dressed gentleman, passing what looked like chips in a bag back and forth with a girl in vintage dolly-bird style. God, he'd hated that revival the first time around. "Hate to break up your lunch date, Doctor, but I just spent half an hour trying to chat myself up and I think I'm beginning to weaken."
The older man looked at the Doctor and waggled his eyebrows dramatically, which the Time Lord seemed to find hysterically funny. "All right, Jack, I'll be there in a minute."
*******
And this time we have a DVD extra --
ELEVEN REASONS CAPTAIN JACK HARKNESS IS NOT ALLOWED TO SHAG HIMSELF:
The Blinovitch Limitation Effect is not a toy.
Destroying the universe might seem worth it at the time, but you'll regret it in the morning.
"I wanted to see what the back of my own head looked like" is not a valid excuse.
Neither is "We could make a fortune with this tape on eBay." Violating the laws of physics for personal gain is simply petty.
You're not supposed to be able to reach that with that.
Or that with that.
Nature only made one of you because that's how things are supposed to be, not because she's a "thoughtless bitch".
Or an "unimaginative" one.
Yes, I know he gets to do it. You're not him.
No, not even after that long.
And you may not have any shame, but just think of all the therapy that poor paramedic is going to have to go through.