quitehomoerotic: (Work : Papers)
There's no such thing as an average day for Torchwood.

A day might be spent cleaning up after a Weevil that broke free of the sewers and decided to go on a killing rampage across Grangetown, or hunting down a shopkeeper in Llandaff who discovered a device that made everyone do as he said (and that one was a particularly long day, especially when he started hooking in the team themselves).

Or it could be worse than that. Something almost unbearable. A day where they sit in the Hub and nothing goes wrong.

A day where they had to get caught up with the dreaded paperwork.

A day like this one.

Jack sat at the desk in his office with a pile of paperwork he ought to have sifted through at least a month ago. It isn't even that he was bad at it or missed things out, it was just that he'd just rather be out there being the action man than the man behind the desk dotting his Is and crossing his Ts.

It was 6:30pm, time enough for any regular (whatever that meant) working office to be packing up and going home. But Jack barely thought about it. He lived here after all; Torchwood was his life and sometimes he could forget that might not be the same for everyone else.

His eyes flickered from the paperwork on his desk to the open programme on his computer screen. A rift monitor, registering... just about nothing.

He sighed. He'd almost prefer the world falling apart.
quitehomoerotic: (Secret smile)
The best of times is now.
What's left of Summer
But a faded rose?
The best of times is now.
As for tomorrow,
Well, who knows? Who knows? Who knows?
So hold this moment fast,
And live and love
As hard as you know how.
And make this moment last
Because the best of times is now,
Is now, is now.



Oh you complete--! Do you have any idea how long that took me? How many hours it's going to take to get it up and running again? )

Word count: 664
quitehomoerotic: (Gwen : side by side glance)
Note: I wrote this little thing to counteract the fact I seem to constantly write angst. This is a little more fun and silly. It's set during S2 when Martha comes to visit. Torchwood go out to a karaoke night...

And thank you to [livejournal.com profile] rude_not_ginger for taking a look at it for me before posting!



"No," Jack said with an air of finality. "I've come this far but no, I'm not getting up there."

Ianto joined the table and set down a tray of assorted drinks before handing them over to their respective owners, and from the other side of the table Martha and Gwen were throwing each other conspiratorial grins.

"I mean it!" He told them with a finger pointed in their direction as he took the glass from Ianto without even looking at him. "You go make a fool of yourself all you like, but you are not getting me up there."

"Oh it's all right," Gwen said as she leaned back a little in her chair, taking a long swig from her pint, her eyes glancing back at Jack over the rim of the glass. "Jack's just nervous, isn't that right, Jack?" She smiled sweetly and lowered her voice a little in mock confidentiality to the group, "Worried we'll think he's not very good, you know how it is. Too chicken to prove himself." She glanced over in Jack's direction and back to Martha before the pair of them started giggling.

Read more... )


Words: 985
quitehomoerotic: (Gwen : side by side glance)
16th August 2009, the following note is pinned to Gwen Cooper's computer monitor in the Torchwood Hub...



It reads:

Gwen
If you turn up for work today turn around and go home and spend some time with your husband.
Don't you dare attempt to do any work. If you do I'll know. Remember, I see all.
Oh and happy birthday
Jack



Should she ignore it and log onto her computer, she will also see the following email...


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Captain Jack Harkness <jack.harkness@torchwood.org.uk>
To: Gwen Cooper <gwen.cooper@torchwood.org.uk>
Date: 16th August 2009 06:45
Subject: GO HOME

What are you doing reading your email? I said go home.

GO HOME.

I mean it, go.

Jack

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



And on her desk, likely picked up at the last minute from a local garage while he had the chance (or even more likely, while Ianto had the chance) is....



A box of Cadbury's Milk Tray.
quitehomoerotic: (General : Dying hurts)
A rare evening alone and Jack should have known things would never go to plan. He told the team to go home, to have dinner, go to the pub, whatever it is normal people do with their evenings. But he hadn't bargained for the six Weevils that appeared in Cathays park.

He dealt with it, of course, but not before loosing a great amount of blood. Not enough to kill him straight away, but enough to kill him slowly. To wait until he got back to the empty Hub (and oh was he thankful it was empty) and die there. He sat at his desk and tried to stop the bleeding, but there was little that could be done and the next thing he knew was when he was taking a heavy breath and opening his eyes back to life.

It hadn't been a long death, half an hour, maybe. But it was a sluggish one. Took the drive and energy out of him. He sat there in his bloodied clothes, and instead of change, he just sighed. Sighed and looked out of the doors, staring into the nothingness of the empty Hub.
quitehomoerotic: (Gwen : cheek kiss - you cut me open)
Jack sits in his office, leaning back in his chair and a pen gently resting against his lip. It had been so many years waiting for this moment. So many years that he'd almost convinced himself that it never happened. That Gwen Cooper was merely a figment of his imagination. But then he knew she wasn't. He'd seen her name, more than once. He'd searched her out, read her arrest reports. He was content that the strands were pulling together. And he waited.

He waited until a cold and wet night in a back alley behind a car park. Until an over inquisitive PC watched something she shouldn't and until he looks up and asks "What do you think?"

She didn't give up, and he knew that, of course. Past another chance meeting in a hospital, another step in the right direction. But not yet, not just yet. She needed to make the steps, needed to get there for herself.

And she's got there now. Jack waits and attempts to settle his nerves. Nerves he never shows but they're here now. Here for this. They've been watching her, PC Cooper, as she wanders around on the Plass above. Suzie commenting on the fact she must be mad to brave the cold. Jack just smiles, saying nothing.

And then PC Cooper finds her in. So they wait and they sit and they attempt to pull a joke. Jack moves to the boardroom upstairs to busy himself, to fill the time. And she arrives. His hands in his pockets, Jack descends the stairs and makes a slow stroll back to his office. Not for one moment aknowledging the woman standing there with the pizza boxes, looking more lost than he's ever seen her.

He moves into his office. Sits at his desk, and keeps up the charade until laughter and voices spill from the Hub. Jack looks up and grins "Come on! She was gonna say, "Here's your pizza," and I was going to say, "How much?"" he stands, moves over to his doorway, standing in it, "and she says, "Oh, whatever, twenty quid," and I say, "Oh, I don't have any money." I was working on a punchline. I'd have got there. But it would've been good!"
quitehomoerotic: (Time Agent: Prepared)
He should have been on Braxiel by now. There with his partner, enjoying some of the unlimited pleasures offered on the menu at the agency's party. But no, he's sent on a mission alone, to a backwater city in a backwater year. Cardiff, wherever that is. Some place on Earth. At least that's a bonus, he always did enjoy Earth. Such primitive and kinda naive people there. Somehow they're a bit more fun.

Twenty first century Earth, he sees, when he gets his directive. Retrieve a piece of technology that's been detected. Should be easy enough. A clean in and out job. Hopefully he can be back in time to not have missed all the fun.

So here he arrives, under a dreary sky on a back street in Cardiff in the middle of the afternoon. And with a grin, he gets to work.

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Captain Jack Harkness

July 2011

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