for poshmouthytart: Dinner at Luigis.

[quitehomoerotic]

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."

Comments

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

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?"

[poshmouthytart.livejournal.com]

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.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

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."

[poshmouthytart.livejournal.com]

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.