Captain Jack Harkness (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
quitehomoerotic) wrote2010-03-20 09:04 am
quitehomoerotic) wrote2010-03-20 09:04 am
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ambitious_woman The Bastille
Relaxed.
Relaxed was something Jack Harkness rarely felt. In fact the concept of relaxation seemed an alien one to him. But yet here he was, that was how he felt. The muscles in his body were looser than they'd felt in far too long, and pains that had held there through stress and worry had, at least for now, melted away to nothingness.
It was morning, and he opened his eyes to a world he'd come to find he liked. A place that while it was nowhere that he belonged, he'd been surprised to discover that there was a space for him. A welcoming space with a welcoming face. He wasn't sure if it was something he deserved but for once, for a time, he wasn't going to worry about that.
When he woke, beside him he saw Reinette sound asleep. It made him smile and he pressed a delicate and small kiss to the skin at her shoulder. He stayed there a moment, just smiling and watching, and he whispered to her, "I'll be right back."
And so he rose from the bed. His intent was to find food. He'd take a morning walk, just a short one in the pleasant summer morning that he could see filtering through beyond the window, and then he'd venture to the kitchens and procure themselves something.
His clothes were near, and he dressed in them, item by item and then his coat (as if he'd go anywhere without it), and out into the corridors and halls of Versailles he went.
He wasn't on his guard, of course, why should he be? Short of clockwork what need he worry about right now? And really, should he encounter clockwork, he'd merely turn it off. No, here he felt happy, he felt safe, and so that guard he had learnt to keep up, was down.
And so it was his downfall.
He found his way to the rear gardens, nodding politely to footmen on his way (people that usually he made no effort to even acknowledge). But they had noticed him. In fact they had noticed him long before he noticed them. They had been noticing him for quite some time. They had noticed him in gardens and they had noticed him behind closed doors. And Jack had no idea.
And he wasn't prepared.
Entirely unprepared for the troupe of guards that met him in the gardens. It was as though they had been waiting, as though they had sought him out (and they had, of course). And as strong as Jack could be, he was not prepared, and so he could do nothing when he was met with a blow to the head, and another blow that knocked him to the ground. Another and another until he felt metal shackles on his wrists held behind his back and a tear of fabric between his lips to quiet his shouts.
And he was taken away.
Relaxed was something Jack Harkness rarely felt. In fact the concept of relaxation seemed an alien one to him. But yet here he was, that was how he felt. The muscles in his body were looser than they'd felt in far too long, and pains that had held there through stress and worry had, at least for now, melted away to nothingness.
It was morning, and he opened his eyes to a world he'd come to find he liked. A place that while it was nowhere that he belonged, he'd been surprised to discover that there was a space for him. A welcoming space with a welcoming face. He wasn't sure if it was something he deserved but for once, for a time, he wasn't going to worry about that.
When he woke, beside him he saw Reinette sound asleep. It made him smile and he pressed a delicate and small kiss to the skin at her shoulder. He stayed there a moment, just smiling and watching, and he whispered to her, "I'll be right back."
And so he rose from the bed. His intent was to find food. He'd take a morning walk, just a short one in the pleasant summer morning that he could see filtering through beyond the window, and then he'd venture to the kitchens and procure themselves something.
His clothes were near, and he dressed in them, item by item and then his coat (as if he'd go anywhere without it), and out into the corridors and halls of Versailles he went.
He wasn't on his guard, of course, why should he be? Short of clockwork what need he worry about right now? And really, should he encounter clockwork, he'd merely turn it off. No, here he felt happy, he felt safe, and so that guard he had learnt to keep up, was down.
And so it was his downfall.
He found his way to the rear gardens, nodding politely to footmen on his way (people that usually he made no effort to even acknowledge). But they had noticed him. In fact they had noticed him long before he noticed them. They had been noticing him for quite some time. They had noticed him in gardens and they had noticed him behind closed doors. And Jack had no idea.
And he wasn't prepared.
Entirely unprepared for the troupe of guards that met him in the gardens. It was as though they had been waiting, as though they had sought him out (and they had, of course). And as strong as Jack could be, he was not prepared, and so he could do nothing when he was met with a blow to the head, and another blow that knocked him to the ground. Another and another until he felt metal shackles on his wrists held behind his back and a tear of fabric between his lips to quiet his shouts.
And he was taken away.
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It didn't, of course.
He thought about the day; the little boy and what might have happened to him. He thought about the time gone and the here and now.
The here and now. And wasn't that what he should focus on?
Gently, he touched his hand to his own face. Still looking at his reflection and considering how he looked just a short few days ago. How he'd looked for so long. But that was gone, wasn't it?
He was Jack Harkness, wasn't he? He moved on. It's what he did. He'd done it before, he could do it again. And Reinette? Well, she hadn't run.
He looked down at the coat he'd settled over the sink, and with a decisive nod, he put it on. Put it on and smoothed it down as he looked at his reflection. And he smiled.
Another deep breath, and a few more moments of simply looking, and he was ready again. Ready to go downstairs, ready to move on.
Ready to be Jack.
"Hey," he called to Reinette, that wide smile still on his face, as he stepped back down the stairs. "How do I look?"
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She was not actively waiting for him. Except, of course, that she was. It was strange that for a woman that did not wait? She did not mind.
Her smile lifted her features at his appearance.
The simple answer would be that he looked no different. It really was never about how he looked. And even if it were, the more obvious change had taken place at the park. But he seemed to recognize it now. Or at least seemed to be considering the possibility? And that was important.
Reinette felt her feet walking, circling Jack in a way that was really nothing of her own. Rather an echo of how he once circled her. Her feet felt light.
When she returned to face him hands moved to brush down lines of a coat that already seemed settled. Her smile tilted more.
"Like Jack."
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"Like Jack?" he repeated with a slight sideways grin. He liked that, and he supposed he liked that more than he could entirely understand. He liked being like Jack. He wanted to feel like Jack. He wanted to be Jack and so... he would try.
He glanced down towards her hands and reached his hand out to clasp hold of one of hers before she could pull it away.
"So I look like Jack," he said, his voice lower.
"But lets see..." he lifted her hand and kissed the back of her fingers. "I think we should test that theory."
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Perhaps it was more than something merely in his mind. After all, there was still a great deal she did not know about Jack.
But there was just as much that she did.
That particular smile. The husky timber in his voice and even the way he now carried himself. Reinette's mouth tilted upward even as her fingers curled slightly where he held them.
"Theory, Jack?" She met his gaze fully. "That would imply I am not certain of what I speak."
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"But I still think," he said, lower still, "that everything should be tested." And then a whisper, "Just to make sure."
One hand then, slipped to her waist, and with it there he gently pulled her a little closer. He wasn't certain, no, and his heart raced, but this? It was more than just a test to himself.
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He pulled her close and Reinette felt herself take a half step closer still. She could be nothing but herself. Even still she naturally stopped to allow the expected room required for silks and hoops only to remember they were not there. She could actually feel each one of her fingertips against her waist.
"A test, you think."
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"Can't remember," he said idly. "Did I show you upstairs?" He smiled, slowly. "Because I could take you. If you like."
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She glanced to where his mouth had touched her hand.
"Did you know Jack? That until I met you I had never stepped foot from my own country. London. Wales. And now upstairs?" Reinette smiled and glanced at the stairs behind him.
"I am becoming a world traveler."
Her chin lifted slighted, changing the dynamic of the narrow air between them.
"Show me then, Jack."
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He grinned at her and his heart seemed to race slightly. And yes. Yes, he decided, he knew it then, he could do this. He could be Jack. And was it proving it? Did it matter if it was? Because either way, he knew that he could.
"Well," he said, and he grinned a little. "Lets see..."
And slowly, he grinned. And it was that grin that was an almost warning he was going to do something cheeky. Which of course, he was.
He paused only a moment before he shifted. One arm moved down and he shifted it under her legs, the other went around her back and he lifted her up in on movement.
And he carried her up the stairs.
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"When you were not interesting, if I recall."
Jack had been smiling before. But something in his expression changed and the air that surrounded him seemed to change with it. It brought to bind a certain ruined dressing gown.
And for a moment Reinette was caught in her mind, cataloging drenched dressing gowns and rumpled silk and all the other abuse to her clothing.
And then? She was not.
Her feet no longer touched the floor and she was given a rather intimate reintroduction to the front of Jack's coat.
"...Jack."
For a woman that lived to expect monsters in corners and under beds, he had managed to catch her off guard. He did more than most.
"My feet work quite well, thank you."
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He shot her another grin as he started up the stairs, Reinette firmly carried in his arms. He smiled at her, amused by her obvious and inevitable surprise.
"I'm sure they do," he said with a nod, "but I'm thinking you should put them up a while."
At the top of the stairs he pushed the bedroom door open with a foot and carried Reinette inside. Taking her over to the bed, he gently placed her down on the edge.
"So this is my bedroom." He grinned.
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And her.
Settled on the edge of Jack's bed, Reinette precisely crossed one ankle of the other and tried to regain as much of her dignity was physically possible.
Glancing about she took Jack's bedroom in. Neat and precise, there were occasional flashes of the man draped across a chair or door handle. The room was flooded with the same lovely light from downstairs.
It was s stark contrast to the room she currently used downstairs.
But Jack smiled, and a weight on her chest lifted. Reinette matched him.
"It seems suitable, with everything that is required. Bed," she acknowledged. "Window. Door."
It was good, to see him like this.
"And Jack."
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Already he was commanding the space without even noticing it. His back was straight and his arm a little forward, leaned towards her and around her slightly. Fencing her in, but not blocking.
"The most important thing of all."
He smiled.
"Reinette."
Because without her, right now, he was certain. There would be no Jack.
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It was simply not who she was.
But with Jack, she was Reinette. Someone younger, less weary. She wondered if insisting he call her than had not been attempt on her own part to reclaim that part of herself.
"Yes," she agreed to the word if not his particular use of it. "Reinette."
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"Thank you," he said, fully aware he'd been told in no uncertain terms that such words were not permitted. In fact, it was largely part of the reason he spoke them.
His thumb moved around and brushed gently across her lip, watching her, his eyes on those lips before, with no preamble but that, he leaned in and kissed her.
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Except that Jack chose that precise moment, when she moved to speak to trace his thumb across her mouth and drawing from it silence instead of sound.
And then he kissed her.
She supposed she might have lectured him there. They were certainly skilled enough at it. What she would say he would understand. But she did not.
She only met him, and kissed him softly in return.
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Pressed the kiss and pressed his body too; moving in such a way so as to shift her slowly back towards the bed.
There was a slight caution in it. Not to say Jack was 100% immediately. But it was almost there, and it would take little more to complete the journey.
Against her lips, he whispered. "I'm out of practise."
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She did not laugh at his statement. She would not. But they would not dwell in it either.
"No more out of practice than I."
Reinette kissed him again, slanted softly against his mouth and brief.
"You also taste of your pizza. Old pizza. And ice cream."
And Jack, of course. There was Jack.
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He moved his hand gently across her side, feeling fabric and the shape of her body beneath it. For a moment, he glanced over and looked at it beneath his fingertips.
"Hmm," he said, all mock thoughtful. "Between you and me? I think I preferred the complicated dresses," a laugh. "Much more of a challenge."
And she knew how he liked those, didn't she?
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She heard the silence, and then spoke to fill it.
"Yes, but perhaps my clothing does not prefer you. Sadly, sadly mussed."
And then she laughed as well, something like amusement in her eyes. Or very nearly that.
"And if you think it is the dresses that are the challenge, you have not been paying proper attention Jack."
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"Oh now I always pay attention," he said with a smirk. Not entirely true, of course, but he did his best, especially where she was concerned. And oh he knew she was a challenge, from the first day they had met, she'd been a challenge. And that was what made him stay, the challenge. It was her being her that brought him back.
He looked at her for a long moment, thoughtful and contemplative, and then he leaned in and pressed another kiss to her lips, slow and lingering.
And when he pulled back? He had something to say.
"I think I might pay that king of yours a visit."
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Reinette did not break Jack's gaze, meeting it just as confidently as she met his mouth. Again, there was no rush. It simply was.
And that was all that was required.
Her eyes and thoughts, however, were slightly shadowed when he pulled back.
"Hardly mine now. Not after how we parted." Reinette continued to look at Jack. "Do you think that is wise?"
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"Wise?" he smirked. "Maybe not. Might be fun though."
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And offered no other comment to her actions.
It stood alone.
The rest she had words on.
"Fun," she breathed. "You think it will be fun. First the idea to stroll across the lawns of Versailles unclothed." There was no tentativeness now as she referred to their day together, in France. "And now this. Just have strange notions of 'fun' Jack."
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Her words were firm, but his response was anything but. He laughed a little and shot her a cheeky grin.
"What?" he said with a wide grin, "you expect me to be average?"
That was something he knew they were both quite sure he never would be.
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