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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"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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