quitehomoerotic | for poshmouthytart: Dinner at Luigis.

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for poshmouthytart: Dinner at Luigis.

Not the most conventional of ways to crop upon someone. But then Jack Harkness was anything but a conventional sort of guy.

There were many ways to communicate, of course, and some of those transcended time. That fact was hardly surprising to him, of course. But getting involved to the point of taking a small trip to the 80s wasn't quite what he'd expected.

And maybe that was why he wanted to do it so much.

So he took a leap from the city he'd been holding himself up in; somewhere in the 48th century, and took himself back to the 20th. 1983 to be precise, March 9th to be even more so. It wasn't random, of course, it was when she'd said to be there.

The 80s had been an interesting time for Jack the first time round; something of a transitioning period. Torchwood had started to feel almost less than a crutch and more like something that mattered. He'd spent a fair bit of time around London, of course, but this place in particular was new to him. Fenchurch, part of the City of London; the odd pocket of space that seemed to empty up after work hours, a ghost town on weekends and with pubs full of bankers trying to drink their sorrows away (time never seemed to change that fact, it just meant the sorrows were different ones).

It was a small little restaurant that he'd agreed to meet her in. 'Luigi's', an Italian with a colourful man behind the counter and an even more colourful mural on the wall. Jack spared a look at it, and an eyebrow raised. He said nothing.

"Get you a drink, Signore?" the man (Jack assumed Luigi himself) asked him from behind the desk.

"In fact, maybe you can. I'm looking for an Alex Drake."

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Unfortunately, Alex Drake did not have the luxury of being on time that evening.

At two past nine, Gene Hunt was whipping around a corner in the Quattro, a few blocks down from the Met, and even Alex's constant reminders that she had somewhere to be didn't seem to sway him. He, finally, between her incessant snapping and few choice swear words on his part, pulled up in front of Luigi's. Alex popped out of the car with barely a goodbye, and rushed into the trattoria, half-heartedly straightening her hair and blazer as she made her way towards the bar.

Not quite sure who she was looking for, her eyes glossed over the back of a man in a blue greatcoat. She caught the tail end of Luigi's voice, "the lovely Signora Drake" and he was pointing towards her, and she suddenly felt extremely self-conscious.

Taking a breath, she made her way to the bar toward the man that sat there.

Jack's eyes turned and followed the line on Luigi's arm as he pointed to the woman that had just walked in.

He smiled, easy and wide.

Gently, he pushed himself from his stool and moved to standing beside it, his back straight and shoulders strong. One of his (utterly never rehearsed) classic hero poses.

"Alex Drake, I presume?" he asked, taking a step towards her and stretching a hand out in her direction.

"Captain Jack Harkness. Good to meet you."

Alex paused in her step, giving Captain Jack Harkness a look between suspicious and utterly relieved.

Because she could certainly have done worse for dinner company.

Grinning, Alex grasped his hand and gave it a solid shake. "The pleasure is all mine," she told him. "I hope you weren't waiting too long. I'm afraid my DCI wasn't exactly taking into account my priorities for the evening."

Jack took Alex' hand and allowed her to shake it, but that done? He kept his hold firmly in place and twisted her hand in his, lifting her fingers to his lips to press a small kiss there.

"Oh well we'll see about that," he said, his smile still present, but cheeky, teasing, his dimples showing. "And just long enough. Shall we?"

He gestured his arm out towards a table that Luigi had told him was the best in the house, and Jack had pointed out was exactly the same as all the others.

Sparing one more glance at Luigi, he nodded, "Oh and a bottle of wine. New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, if I remember? Something from the Marlborough region."

He smiled at Alex. "Can I take your jacket?"

Oh, this was starting out rather nicely. Alex could already feel the stress of the day starting to fade. It had been a long time since she'd had a drink, much less dinner, with anyone but Gene, and it seemed like the whole environment of the restaurant changed with the arrival of this new man.

"You remembered?" she approved, turning ever so slightly to let him take off her jacket, and trying to not let herself think of what else she wouldn't mind him taking off. "I didn't realize you're an American," she added. "You'll have to tell me about your journey and why, exactly, I needed I specify the year."

"I remembered," Jack echoed back with a small knowing smirk as he took her jacket from her and draped it over the back of her seat as he pulled it out for her.

He took a step around and shrugged out of his own coat, folding it in half and letting it sit over the back of his chair before sitting down.

"Who said I'm American?" Jack asked, slightly teasing. It was of course the assumption everyone made, and rightly so (and of course one he was glad they did), but it didn't hurt to play with it at times.

"And my journey?" he raised an eyebrow and looked down at the table before looking up with a smile, his eyes directly on hers. "Lets just say I've come quite a way." For now, he left the year question well alone. Something for both of them to think on.

Alex settled into the chair, crossing her hands on the table and raising her eyebrows at Jack. "Well, the accent is a bit of a giveaway," she said, teasingly. "Not meaning to imply you aren't a citizen, of course. I just don't know many Americans who haven't been either tourists or students."

His avoidance of the question wasn't lost on her, but she didn't feel any need to push it, not yet, anyway. Jack Harkness was already proving to be an enigma, but Alex liked the idea of slowly peeling away those layers in her own sweet time.

So to speak.

"Where have you come from? It sounds a bit out of the way for a dinner with someone you've never met before now."

Jack shot another grin in Alex' direction. "I've been known to do a little tourism," he said. "A bit of sight seeing. Though don't know here too well, maybe you could show me round." His smile widened, just a little, almost a smirk, but not quite.

"A little place," he said, taking a long breath. "Little town. Long way but--" he smiled again, "I do enjoy going out my way."

He looked down at his menu as though he cared about it in the slightest. He didn't, of course. It was a perfunctory glance at most; a way to break eye contact so it might be craved again.

And again, there it was.

"So, Alex -can I call you Alex?- You're a D.I. right? Better be on my best behaviour then, hadn't I? Or you'll be putting me in cuffs."

Smirking, Alex glanced down at her own menu unnecessarily. She had the whole thing memorized, and barely ever had the need to use it. Luigi knew exactly what she was in the mood for at any given time.

But oh, Jack looking away was ever so painful. Alex certainly didn't mind those eyes on her. But she knew enough about people to know exactly what he was playing at, and she certainly didn't mind going along.

"Alex is just fine," she assured him. "I always keep my handcuffs on hand when I'm meeting strange men on a first date. One can never be over-prepared." She glanced back up at him, trapping his eyes in her gaze. "So tell me a bit more about yourself, Jack Harkness. You already seem to know quite a bit about me."

And then there was that eye contact again, held from both sides and oh she was good at this. Jack liked that. It made the game much more fun. Because that's what it was, wasn't it? Always a game.

"Glad to hear it," he said, his menu closed and attention fully hers once more. "I do like a woman that prepares for all eventualities."

Luigi stepped over with the bottle of wine, but Jack looked up barely even once to acknowledge him as he poured the two glasses and left the bottle to the side.

"Oh do I?" he said with a laugh. "Not nearly enough, I'd say. But we'll get there." He tilted his head slightly. "What would you like to know?"

That, of course, didn't mean he'd answer.

Alex noted Luigi's presence, and was thankful that he left the bottle without his usual commentary on her choice of dates. Of course, he had spent so much time pushing she and Gene together, he probably wasn't particularly pleased by her new found companionship.

Not that she cared. Gene Hunt was the last thing she wanted on her mind right now.

Swirling her wine patiently whilst keeping her eyes trained steadily on Jack, she pursed her lips. "Let's start with the basics. You know I'm a detective inspector with the Met, but what is that you do? Besides travel long distances to have intimate dinners with strange women, that is."

"Well I don't know," Jack said as he leaned back a little in his chair. "You tell me. What do you think I do?" It was evasive, of course, and not even subtly so. But it continued the game, and it seemed to Jack Alex had quite the analytical mind, and trying to get her to work him out might hopefully appeal to that nature.

He took a drink from his glass and placed it back down. "Good choice," he said, before crossing his arms over his chest and watching her, as if waiting for her answer.

"Go on," he said, "impress me."

Taking a moment to think, Alex sipped her wine and considered the man in front of her.

"You're confident, and self-assured, so I imagine you're in a career that allows you to display your own established prowess. And, as this current game implies, you enjoy having the upper hand. Whatever you do, you're in a leadership position. Something that allows you to make the important decisions and be constantly in control."

She paused a moment, rolling more of her impressions around in her mind as she examined him with her ever analytical eye. "You're evasiveness to answer the question implies one of two things; either it's a job that you are ashamed of, or one that you don't feel the exposure of would effect your current control of the situation. You don't seem the type to settle for anything you don't enjoy, so I wouldn't say it's the former. As I said, you enjoy control, but you are also keen to impress, understand, and possibly manipulate those who challenge you. So, I would suspect you're either in law enforcement or a politician." She smirked, playfully, over the rim of her glass. "Or, you're an escort."

Jack listened and tried not to smile too much as her words rolled off her tongue. He projected nonchalance, his fingers lightly touching his lips as she spoke.

And then when she was done? He grinned.

"Oh you're good," he said, leaning forward to pick up his glass and take a sip from it. "You're very good."

He laughed slightly and nodded in her direction. Slowly, he took a sip from his glass and watched her atop it in just the way she had with him. And then, with a cheeky smile, he went on. "Nobody has ever guessed I was an escort before."

Alex leaned back in her chair, a smug smile plastered across her face. "I'm a psychologist. I'm trained to pick up on the smallest nuances that create a personality."

To be honest, she was a bit surprised at how on the spot she must have been, having only had passing conversation with him. But she wasn't about the betray that.

"So which one is it, then? Copper, politician, or escort?" She tilted her head. "They may attract similar personality types but they are, by nature, completely different career fields."

Oh she wasn't giving up, was she?

Jack liked that.

He grinned over at her and let out a laugh that was more of a breath. "None of the above," he said. "Lets just say I've had my hand in quite a few pies over the years. I do what I need to. Right now? Well, how about we call me a tourist. I'm... how shall I put it? Between jobs."

It still didn't explain anything, of course.

"But really," he said, "aren't there more interesting things we could be doing other than talking about my CV?"

Alex pursed her lips and shrugged nonchalantly, turning her attention temporarily back to her glass of wine. "I must say, I like a well-rounded man. I think you would agree that experience is paramount to getting the most out of life."

She probably stressed the word experience more than was really necessary, and punctuated it with another sip of wine. "But you're right. Why waste a perfectly good bottle of wine talking about work? Especially when we could be talking about far more interesting things. Like why agreed to meet me in the first place." She raised her eyebrows suggestively, baiting him.

Jack's smile curved at the corner of his lips, widening a little. He glanced his eyes down towards his glass and then back up to her.

"Well experience is nothing I'm short of," he said, his voice slightly lower, almost a whispered tone.

He took another sip from his glass and leaned himself forward again, arms on the table. "Well let me think." He tilted his head to the side as though he was, but then the answer he came up with was hardly thought out at all. Utterly straight forward.

"I think I'd have been a bit of a fool not to, don't you? And trust me, Alex, if there's one thing I'm not, it's that."

He looked at his glass, mostly empty, and so he reached for the bottle and splashed a little more into his before reaching over to top up hers.

Alex felt a small tremble run through her at the tone of Jack's voice, and she covered it by turning her attention to him refilling her wine.

"I would have never entertained the thought," she told him. "I suppose I could say the same about you."

And not that Alex hadn't had her share of meeting strange men in bars or anything. But it seemed like she was moving up when it came to company, if she was honest with herself.

"You said you travel. Have you been anywhere interesting lately? It's something we have in common, by the way. I'm also very far from home."

Jack often had curiosity for other people. Sometimes (and most times) it was simply that, curiosity. Oh he laced that frequently with teasing and innuendo, but more often than not that was simply the surface and ran no deeper. But here? Here Jack found himself examining the line of Alex' arms as she reached for her glass, and watching the shape of her lips as they spoke and sipped the wine. He'd also noticed the cut of her clothes and how they fell against her body.

Interesting.

"Oh I have," he said, grinning slightly. "Just come back from a little town with this lake that reflected the stars like a backlit mirror, beautiful, you should see it." Of course he didn't need to mention that said lake was on another planet quite far into the future.

"Is that so?" he asked, an eyebrow raised. "Where are you from, Alex?" His voice was almost challenging.

Alex let herself be lost in Jack's words; it was a short description, almost a tease, but the way his tone weaved around the words made her envision it with such clarity that she felt she may have seen it once. The echo of starlight was so clear in her mind's eye.

Pulling her eyes away from him, she considered her words carefully. She picked up immediately on the challenge; she knew Jack Harkness liked to challenge things, mostly, she imagined, the things that meant the most to him at any given second.

And that was enough to make her think maybe, just maybe, she should tell him the truth.

Taking a deep sip of wine, she looked into his eyes, her voice so quiet it was barely even a whisper. "You know what? I'm from the future," she told him.

Alex was fascinating. Jack had thought this already, yes. But the more time he sat and watched her, the more he realised he could happily sit and do so for rather a long time. And then a little more. And not just that, he realised there was something under her surface he wanted to scratch away. He had no idea what that was, but something.

And so maybe it was that thought, or maybe something else, but when she spoke he was utterly unsurprised. That said, he let out a small laugh. He wasn't laughing at her, just a simple laugh, and he leaned forward, arms rested on the table and hands clasped together in front of him.

"You know what?" he said, his words and tone echoing hers. "So am I."

Alex's eyes widened for a moment after Jack spoke, and she kept her eyes trained on him, looking for even a shadow of a hint that he was taking the piss or winding her up.

She found neither. His eyes shone with a humour, but it seemed rooted in irony, as if she'd told him exactly what she had wanted to hear. And, in a way, she felt she should have expected the same from him.

"Really?" she said, her voice thick. She pushed through, trying to gain control back to her tone. "Is that why you contacted me? Do you know why I'm here?"

Jack's expression didn't change, aside from perhaps a small raise of the eyebrow. If he'd thought she'd been joking, he didn't now, and that made all of this more intriguing. If she was from the future, she obviously wasn't in control of her travel. Not unheard of, of course. But curious.

"No," he admitted honestly, eyes glancing down and back up again. Thoughtful for a moment. He didn't change track, and when he spoke it still had that thick, almost seductive tone to it.

"But maybe I can help," he said. "Where are you from, Alex?"

He wasn't humouring her.

She was overwhelmed with a need to cling to him, as if she wanted to crawl over the table and wrap herself in his arms and beg for him to help her, even if she didn't know why.

There was just something about him, she decided. Something like Gene. They both made her feel safe, and she couldn't explain it.

The tone of his voice lulled her, and she took a breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "2008," she replied. "I... I was shot. I'm in a coma and all of this... Well, I don't know what any of it is, but I need to finish whatever I'm here for and go home." She stared at him, trying to control this sudden barrage of emotions that made her yearn for home, for her daughter. She felt so vulnerable. "Do you believe me?"

In his mind, Jack started to catalogue the information. 2008, shot, coma? Right. Things to be going on with.

"You know I thought tonight I was getting a night off," he said with a smile, "nice meal with a nice woman." He leaned in a little. "But it looks like I'll have to work."

He shot her a small wink, as if just to let her know he was teasing. And just to punctuate that, he added in a whisper, "but really, I prefer it that way."

He looked at his glass and pressed his fingers to the base of it, pushing it a little out the way. "Yes," he said, "I believe you. Now do you have somewhere quieter we can talk?"

Alex looked down at the table, taking a moment to catch her breath. She hadn't meant for it to turn out like this; after all, she'd wanted it to be a date. A fun date.

Things just never seemed to work out for her anymore. But what did she expect? She was here for a reason, and nothing that happened ever let her forget that.

"My flat," she told him. "We can go there." She cleared her throat and waved at Luigi. "Luigi, we're going to take this bottle to go. Just put it on my tab if you will."

Luigi nodded in agreement, the smirk plastered on his face making Alex feel even more worse about the turn the evening had taken. She stood up and retrieved her coat and the bottle, nodding towards the door. "Come along, Captain Harkness," she said.

"Good," Jack nodded. Her flat, good, somewhere private where they wouldn't be overheard, and somewhere... private. After all, from the future or not, Jack hadn't lost sight of his initial impressions of the woman before him.

And Jack was never that good at separating business and pleasure.

Jack nodded in Luigi's direction and stood, following behind Alex. He leaned forward and whispered, "You know really I should be the one paying," he said, smirking slightly. "2008 or not, chivalry doesn't have to be dead."

He walked with his hands behind his back, a small step behind her from the restaurant to the door of the flat.

That elicited a smile from Alex, and she whispered back, "Don't worry. Sometimes he's feeling rather generous and puts it on my DCI's tab instead."

Glancing away mischievously, Alex led the twisting way out of the trattoria and back into the same building, up the stairs and to the flat. She accidentally left the door unlocked again, but bad habits were hard to break. She ushered Jack in, setting the wine down on the coffee table before flitting off to the kitchen to fetch two clean wine glasses. She returned, filling the fresh glasses and handing one to Jack before gesturing to the couch.

"Go on, sit down," she told him. "You know, as a psychologist, it's supposed to be me helping people through when they feel confused or lost or alone. I'm not exactly used to talking to anyone else. Especially men I've only just met."

"Well in that case we should have got a second bottle," Jack said with a grin as he followed her upstairs and inside.

He scanned the room with his gaze, taking in his surroundings. Nothing hugely remarkable, and he doubted the woman at hand had put much of her stamp on it at all. And that said more too to her situation. Whatever that may be.

When she returned his gaze returned to her, and he took the glass with a smile and sat down on the couch wondering quietly if his coat didn't clash with the heavy pattern.

"Oh a psychologist?" he asked with raised eyebrows. "You really must be from 2008." He took a sip from his glass and reached forward, placing it down on the table.

"Well that's all right," he said, a half smirk on his lips, "we don't have to do that much talking."

He paused, just long enough for that sentiment to rest, and he nodded.

"So tell me how you got here, Alex."

Cringing a bit at how Jack's coat clashed with the loud zebra-striped pattern, Alex grasped her own wine and sat down next to him, curling her legs up under her and tilting her head.

She certainly caught the meaning in his words, and somehow, it lifted her spirits. Maybe tonight wouldn't be a complete loss after all.

"It's a long story," she admitted. "I was in 2008. It was my daughter's birthday. I was taking her... We were..." She sighed, taking a sip of wine to calm her nerves. "I was taken hostage by a man and he shot me in the head. And I woke up in 1981." She looked down at her glass. "They said I'd transferred. My DCI, he shot me accidentally, last year. And I woke up, I went home." She looked back up at Jack. "Except it wasn't home. Not really. And then, I came back. All I know is I'm here, I came back for a reason, to help my team and I just wish I knew why."

Jack watched Alex, listened intently and processed the details in his mind. It was interesting, of course, and he thought it over in silence for a moment or two.

Shot in 2008 and woke up in 1981. The rest of the detail didn't matter. Or at least it didn't matter right away. Because it was slipping the travel in that was important.

And Jack thought he understood it.

From nowhere, he spoke.

"Instant traumatic temporal shifting," he said plainly. "It's rare, but not unheard of." he paused a beat and went on. "When a traumatic event takes place and coincides with a surge in temporal activity in an area it can use a mind as a sort of catalyst. Like grabbing hold of a live wire. The traumatic event gives power to the shift and bam, next thing you know you've fallen through time."

Alex stared at Jack for a very, very long moment.

And then she laughed.

Now, she wasn't laughing at him or what he had to say. Because, honestly, it made about as much sense as any other mad theory she had floating around her mind in this place. Which meant really no sense at all.

"How do you know that?" she asked him, downing more of her wine. "I've never heard of it and I think I would have. I'm a psychologist, I know how people work and if that had been documented..." She paused, staring at him carefully. "Where are you from, Jack?"

Her laughter warmed him. Because he could tell the subtlety in it. His words might sound ridiculous, but she wasn't dismissing them outright, and that meant quite a deal.

"Because, Alex Drake, this is what I do," he said with a grin.

He leaned in a little towards her, a little more animated as he went on. "Oh please," he said with a half laugh, "2008 it's been plenty documented --and trust me, I know, I documented a lot of it myself-- but that doesn't mean you have access to it."

Her question gave him pause, and he tilted his head a little as he looked at her. An interesting question, and one with many answers, all of which true. But there was something in this exchange that made him want to project a little more truth, and so he did.

"51st century," he said. "But lived in the 21st too. Lived in Cardiff for.. oh, quite a while."

Alex didn't really know how to respond to that, so she took a really, really big gulp of wine.

She didn't doubt what he said for a second. There was something about him that made it impossible. And more than that, she wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe he understood her and that she didn't have to be alone. And it was a really, really nice feeling, being believed.

"Cardiff, really?" she finally said. "Interesting place to choose. So this... what happened to me. Did it happen to you, too? Is that how you're here?"

"Hm, it chose me more, really," he said almost nonchalantly, "there's a rift in space and time running right through the middle of it." Utterly casual, like it was regular conversation over a drink.

And really, for Jack, it was.

"No," Jack said with a shake of his head. "I came here myself." He reached out and pulled up the end of his sleeve, exposing the leather strap on his wrist. He unclipped it and gestured it out towards her. "With this."

For a moment, he left it within her sights, and pulled his arm back, closing it again.

"But theories of time travel aside," he said, quite seriously, "we've got a bottle of wine that still isn't finished."

Alex opened her mouth for a moment only to slam it shut again.

She could keep pushing for information, and she was sure it would be a fun, even flirtatious game. But Jack Harkness had made it clear what he wanted, and Alex wasn't going to argue that point.

Because it wasn't so much that she expected him to give her answers, or she expected him to get her home, or that she expected him to save her.

All that she expected was that he believed her, and that he helped her in every way he could. And she knew that tonight, he would.

Grabbing the bottle, Alex topped off their wine glasses. She slid closer to Jack on the couch, examining his wrist strap carefully. "So, this is where we are in the 51st century? Watches that make you travel through time." She looked up at him, pursing her lips. "And I thought I was in the stone age. You must feel like you're having a holiday in Jurassic Park."

Jack reached for his glass and took a small drink from it, laughing slightly. "It's not a watch, that's on the other wrist," he said, smirking just a tad. "It's a vortex manipulator, and no, they're not standard," his grin widened, "I'm just special."

He settled a little in the couch and turned inwards towards her, just the tiniest amount, only just perceptible, but there.

"And no, you're a much better conversationalist than a dinosaur," he said, glancing at her over the rim of his glass. "And trust me, I've lived in the 1800s, the 80s are practically advanced compared to then."

Alex tried not to cringe. "I guess it would be best to remember that I could have woke up in worse places, isn't it?"

Casually, Alex tilted her head close to Jack's shoulder, keeping her eyes on his wristband. Hesitantly, she reached out and ran her hand over the wrist strap gently.

"So, with this, you can go home whenever you want to?" she asked. "That must be nice, to be able to just go back and forth between worlds. Then you never really have to make a choice between them, do you?"

Jack's smile faded a little into something altogether more serious, more thoughtful. Home. Go home. If he had a home to go to. He didn't any more, of course, every home he ever made all gone now, and he was flitting around from place to place trying to pretend that was the way he wanted it.

"Yeah, you'd think so, wouldn't you?" he said, not really agreeing. "See this was broken for a long time though and I was stuck. So guess I didn't have to make a choice then either, it was all made for me."

He placed his glass down again and when he shifted back up, it was a little closer to her, as though it were accidental. "And see this is nothing," he said, tapping the wrist strap. "You want to travel by blue box." He smirked, and that, he wouldn't explain.

He turned his head towards hers, and reached a hand out to brush her hair back behind her ear. "So, Alex, enjoying 1983?"

Alex's breath hitched in her throat as Jack's fingers tickled against her ears. Reaching up, she captured his hand in hers, gazing up into his eyes quietly, as if she was looking for answers to questions she didn't know she had.

"Let's just say, I'm enjoying it much more right now than I have so far," she admitted. "And the company helps. What do you think, Jack? Has it been worth the travel time with that little non-watch of yours?"

She had his hand, and Jack's eyes flickered briefly towards it before looking back to her eyes. The shift in gaze almost highlighting the touch as his thumb brushed gently over the pad of her hand.

He watched her, and listened to her question, but he had no intention of answering, or at least not verbally.

The hand she held he used to his advantage and he pulled his arm back, pulling her with it to close the very small gap between them.

And he pressed his lips to hers in a slow kiss.

Alex tilted her head, allowing Jack to press his lips against hers as she slid her eyes shut. With her free hand, she reached up and cupped his cheek gently, pressing herself closer to him to deepen the kiss.

After a moment, nothing more than a tease, Alex pulled away slightly and whispered gently into his lips. "Enjoying it that much, are you?"

Jack indulged in the kiss. He opened his mouth against hers, just a little, and pressed himself further against Alex, in turn pushing her a little into the couch.

When she pulled back, he opened his eyes and trained them on hers.

"What can I say?" he whispered back. "I like the eighties."

And he leaned forward again to touch his lips once more to hers, one hand reaching to brace at her side, with fingers curling around the line of her waist.

This time, it was him that pulled back, barely more than a breath, and he didn't speak, he just smiled.

Alex took the moment he pulled away to catch her breath - she needed to, because she had a feeling if she kissed him too long she might pass out.

This was different, so different from anything before. Nothing with Gene had ever gone this far, and even the Thatcherite wanker in '81 had been more of a drunken joke, just a typical night of self-indulgence.

But it wasn't about that for Alex this time. She watched the curve of Jack's lips, running her eyes over the defined lines of his chin and neck, tickling her fingers playfully around his ear. Leaning in, she placed a gentle kiss on his neck.

Jack, despite appearances, didn't make a habit of one night stands. That said, he wasn't adverse to it with the right person, and specifically with the right person that sparked him in the right way. Still, one night stand sounded so clinical, didn't it?

He really wasn't the clinical type.

He was more about enjoying an experience, and, if possible? He'd always stay for breakfast.

There, was of course, quite a lot to learn from this woman with the soft kisses and the delicate curves. She was curious, and apparently temporarily displaced. Really, it was like a laundry list of 'things that would attract Jack Harkness'.

But that? Well, that could wait for breakfast.

And so, he slipped his hand delicately around her waist, his fingers pressed in against the fabric of her blouse, and he whispered.

"Why don't we go somewhere more comfortable?"

Alex's mind was a million miles away from breakfast, because her thoughts were embroiled with the quickest way to the bedroom. For some reason, it seemed like an awfully long walk. And considering how often she fell asleep on the couch, it usually seemed like a long walk. Right now, it seemed like it might take years to get there.

She pulled away from him, and she slipped from his grasp and stood up, her legs trembling beneath her. She picked up her wine glass with one hand and offered her other to him. "Bedroom it is then," she told him, her eyes alight with lust and mischief.

Jack, for a moment, stayed simply where he was. He looked up at Alex and watched her as she stood. He watched as she took her glass and watched where her eyes sat. Examining her in every way and being quite utterly blatant about his observations (and where they lay).

His eyes shifted just slightly, but seemingly in such a way to highlight the fact that he very much was looking. And he liked what he saw.

The look in her eyes and the twist of her lips made Jack grin a little, and his own eyes creased a little at the corners.

He took her hand and stood, looking back down at her. "Best suggestion I've heard all week," he said, voice still a whisper."

With his free hand he reached out and took the wine glass from hers and took a sip from it before placing it back down on the table.

"You're not going to need that."

Alex opened her mouth to argue about the wine, but then, she wondered, exactly why she felt the need to. What was about to fill her evening would be much better - much more real - than anything in that glass. And she wasn't even tipsy yet.

It was a wonderful, strange feeling, looking into Jack's stunning blue eyes and not being alone. Knowing that he was looking at her, with lust and intent and hope and expectation, all things that she had, long ago, wondered if she would ever seen in the eyes of anyone again. Such human things, things that were so very alive in their nature. It had been a long time since she'd felt that way, and she closed her mouth. "You're right," she agreed.

She turned slightly, Jack's hand held firmly in her own, the warmth of his smooth palm seeming to radiate up her arm. She shifted her hand to entwine her fingers with his, leading him around the coffee table and through the kitchen towards the open door of the bedroom.

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