For rude_not_ginger:Two Immortals One TARDIS Insert scene. Valent

[quitehomoerotic]

It had been 50 years since Jack had seen the Doctor. It had been 50 years since Jack had been Jack. 50 years, and he still felt the same. Some days he hated that, it frustrated him and annoyed him and made him want to scream. And some days, it just made him lonely. This was one of those days.

It was Valentines day. A stupid Earth holiday that really meant nothing, but people put so much stock into. Everywhere you went there were balloons shaped like hearts and people holding hands and declaring their love. It made Jack grumpy, and he could never and would never explain why.

So he shut himself away from it. He was in a small flat in a city that seemed to be nothing but small flats. Somewhere full of people where he could at the same time, be completely alone.

And he sat on his own, watching broadcasts on a television with a bottle of scotch to soothe his pains.

50 years, and it still felt like yesterday.

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[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

It was Valentine's Day. The Doctor was not, in fact, drowning any sorrows he may or may not have felt on this day in a bottle of scotch.

It was a bottle of very, very good banana-flavored liquor. Majenta had purchased it and handed it over to him while she vanished into a hotel room with a leggy blonde from the bar. It was rude not to try it. And, as the night went on and on and Majenta didn't come back, the Doctor proceeded to consume just about all of it.

And then, in his infinite wisdom, he stumbled outside to buy another bottle.

And then, with even more wisdom, he picked up the phone to make a very important phone call.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack wanted to be alone. Actually, no, Jack wanted to be with a very specific person. He wished he didn't, but wishing did nothing.

When the phone rang, he was annoyed, but hardly unsurprised. He wasn't expecting a call, but then he'd been doing some freelance work lately, and people needed to call him. His telling them he wanted a night off, obviously meant nothing.

So he lifted the phone and took a deep breath, speaking into it without waiting to hear a voice.

"Didn't I say no calls tonight?"

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

Jack. It had been so very long, the Doctor almost didn't know what to expect on the other end of the phone line. Had he been sober, he might've relished in the voice, might've done his best to memorize every single nuance of it.

However, it is important to note that he was not sober.

"Sorry!" the Doctor said quickly, flailing a bit. "Sorry! I was just--I was calling! I didn't know! Bit out of the loop, lost all my facebook friends except the weird bloke from L.I.N.D.A. who keeps asking me to join farmville."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack all but fell out of his chair.

Oh he'd had a drink, yes, he'd had a drink, but he hadn't drank enough to start hallucinating things like that. No, okay, maybe he had, but that was beside the point.

He knew that voice.

"... Doctor?"

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"Hi, look, I know it's been a while, but I thought it was very, very important that I call you," the Doctor said. He very nearly fell out of the chair himself, simply from the emphatic gestures he was making as he spoke.

"I mean, it's Valentine's Day and I----"

The phone was accidentally thrown across the console room. The Doctor grabbed the cord and pulled it back.

"Sorry! Sorry! Lost the phone for a mo' there."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Ah. He was drunk. Not Jack-- well, maybe Jack, but not as drunk as the man on the other end of the phone line obviously was.

Jack was annoyed, so annoyed that he'd be phoning him. He wanted to shout and to hang up on him, but he couldn't. He couldn't because oh it was so good to hear his voice, even his drunken voice.

"Doctor, you're drunk," Jack said, sounding almost amused, but there were tears in his eyes all the same.

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"Yes," the Doctor said, with an emphatic nod. "Yes, in fact, I am. I had many little drinks and then---"

He fumbled until he picked up the bottle. "And then it became very difficult to pour into the little cup so I began drinking from the bottle. This is actually very non-hygienic, I really hope I don't have to return this bottle or replace it at some point."

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"So you thought you'd pick up the phone and call me?" Jack said, suddenly cycling back around to annoyed again.

"What do you want, Doctor?" he said, very nearly snapping. It wasn't fair for him to call suddenly after so long. Too long, and Jack had wondered all those years where he was or what he was doing. And he could just pick up a phone and find him like that? No, not fair at all.

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"Well, yes!" the Doctor said, and he flailed so hard the phone fell out of his hand again. He scrambled for it and half fell as he picked it up from the floor.

"I'm going to stay on the floor," he explained to Jack, very serious. With an oof, he went down to the floor and remained there. The bottle that was empty stayed on the console, but the bottle that was fresh and new stayed under the chair.

"I just---I wanted to call," he said, sounding rather upset that Jack didn't want to hear from him.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"You just wanted to call," Jack repeated with a small sigh.

He closed his eyes tightly. He just wanted to call, simple as that. Well why did he want to call at all? After all, Jack didn't really think he cared. But there he was, drunk and thinking he, of all people, was one to phone.

And fine, Jack had had a drink too, and it was a phone call, maybe he could just let himself go.

He breathed a slow and shallow breath.

"It's good to hear your voice," he said, and for no reason, he climbed down to the floor too.

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"Still the same voice!" he said, gesturing with the bottle as though Jack were in the room. "Haven't regenerated yet. Very nearly once, but I avoided that. Complicated story, very long and drawn out and I don't actually remember most of it, but I'm told it's very funny."

That wasn't why he called, of course. He felt like if he jumped right into that, the phone call would be over and he rather liked talking to Jack. He liked hearing his voice and pretending he was right there. That the last fifty years hadn't happened at all.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack found himself moving forward, as though he could reach out and get closer to him. He couldn't, of course.

"I'm glad you haven't," Jack said. It wouldn't be the same if the voice wasn't his. Like being called to be told your best friend and greatest love was dead.

"You're going to give the TARDIS one hell of a hangover," he said, smiling slightly. "You used those salts? You had some in the kitchen cupboard, behind the biscuit tin."

50 years, and he was acting like he last saw him hours ago.

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"The TARDIS'll be fine," the Doctor said, waving a hand emphatically. "She needs this as much as I do! Really depressed ship lately. And there's nothing more depressing than a depressed ship except, perhaps, for a really sad puppy."

A pause.

"That didn't make a lot of sense, I think." He untwisted the top of the bottle, and took a swig of the drink. The mellow flavor of banana with the sharp flavor of alcohol. Brilliant.

"I am wearing red shoes," he said, because this was also incredibly important.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"Why's she depressed?" Jack asked, furrowing his brow, worrying about the pair of them. Part of him told himself to suggest to the Doctor that he come find him, wouldn't take long, they could talk face to face.. but no. Jack couldn't face the rejection, and more importantly, wouldn't want him flying in that condition.

"That so?" he asked. "And a blue suit, am I right?"

Beat.

"Why are you drinking? Are you on your own?"

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"She's cross with me," the Doctor said with a really put upon sigh. "She's been cross with me for fifty years, though. You'd think she'd know that I know that she's cross."

He took another drink from the bottle. "That's the one!" he said. "Blue with the dark blue shirt and I had a tie. I had it earlier, what did I do with it?"

The tie was, in fact, tied around the Doctor's head to keep the spikey-ness out of the way, though the end was facing the other way.

"And I am, actually. My companion's....well, she's off. Busy celebrating on her own. Or with...someone else. Not the same since you left." Since the Doctor left him.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack closed his eyes slowly. Tightly. "Yeah?" he said softly. "Well tell her I say hi. And not to go easy on you."

In his mind, he tried to picture him, sitting on the floor in the TARDIS, blue suit and dark blue shirt. He could almost pretend he was there, looking at him.

Ah so he had a companion. Well of course he did. Stupid to think he wouldn't. "I didn't leave," he pointed out gently.

"Careful you don't go kissing her when she gets back," he said, trying to make light of the situation. "I know you when you've had a drink."

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"Naaaaaaaaah, no, no, no," the Doctor said, laughing at the very idea. "She doesn't even kiss my gender. Or someone as scrummy as I am, she likes to remind me."

He shook his head and leaned it back against the console. The TARDIS felt warm and flushed because of the drink and he could tell how tempted she was to just go somewhere, anywhere. To one specific place and to one specific person She wouldn't, of course. She was much to wise for that.

"And besides. Kissing makes things complicated."

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"Just calling to rub it in, are you?" Jack asked tiredly. It hurt, it hurt a lot. Half a century without the Doctor and just hearing him brought back a flood of emotions.

It made him so angry, and made him want him there so much more.

He found himself gripping his hand around the phone almost impossibly tight, holding on like he could stop him from leaving.

And despite his warnings to himself, he found himself talking, "You know a full breakfast is good for the head when you've drank like that. I've got stuff here... if you wanted to join me."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor grinned, happy and oblivious to where he really was and what was really going on.

"That'd be great," he said, his smile big and stupid. "I can burn breakfast. I was always very good at that. And I'll get the salts---did you just remind me about the salts?---never cook with those, though. Very bad. Lots of burning and very strange tasting...um, things!"

He leaned against the console and imagined what breakfast would be like. They'd get two bites in and something would happen. They'd run. Things would be the way they were. Something would be fixed.

"But we can't," he said, his face dropping down, dejected. "We can't because I'm---time---the universe is stupid."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack let out a brief laugh. Oh it sounded so nice, didn't it? Have breakfast together, maybe go and save a planet, almost get themselves killed, and all that before lunch. Their lives, how they were. But not how they are. And if Jack allowed himself to think the Doctor would come, it didn't last.

"You could, you know," Jack said, "if you really wanted." He took a long breath. "I miss you, you know," he said his eyes tightly closed.

"Tell me what you've been doing," he said, another deep breath. "What you're doing now." Aside from getting drunk, of course.

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The Doctor let out a laugh that was not quite a sob. "Yeah," he said. "If I wanted the consequences. Which I don't and you don't so we don't."

He wanted to hold Jack. He wanted to, but he was so far away. Far away and long ago. He sighed and took another drink from the bottle. He was going to make himself sick at this rate, and he was strangely okay with that. It would seem fitting.

"I've been missing," he started, and then he stopped. "You. And planets. Lots of places I've aimed for. And missed. Very badly. Very, very badly."

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"Don't tell me what I want," Jack said, but not harshly. Jack knew what he wanted, he knew all about consequences, his whole life seemed to be consequences.

From the chair, Jack pulled down a cushion and he found himself holding it, clutching it as though it were him.

Again, he closed his eyes. "Need to clean out the temporal buffers," Jack said quietly, as though that was what it was.

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"Probably," the Doctor said, letting out a low chuckle. "Probably that."

He put his hand against the captain's chair, and tried to imagine the fabric felt anything like Jack's coat did. Wait, actually, Jack's coat. He did have it. It was back on Jack's bed, put there so he didn't have to look at it every time he stepped inside.

Without thinking, he scrambled to his feet and promptly went right back down onto the ground.

He cleared his throat and tried to save face.

"And you?"

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack could hear the fumbling noises of movement and stumbling. It made him wish he was there to stand beside him and catch him when he fell.

"What about me?" he said. "This and that, you know me." And waiting. Not waiting for him, of course. Or at least that's what he told himself. Tried to tell himself.

"You know when you wake up you're going to wish you never called me. Drunk dialling the ex... well, everyone has done it."

Funny really, describing himself like that.

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"I do not drunk dial exes," the Doctor said, very emphatic. "How could you call yourself that? That's terrible!"