Archive of Our Own

Jack skidded around the corner, gun up, adrenaline pumping. He pulled a bead on the nearest target before reason caught up with reflex. The Doctor didn’t seem to even notice; he was backed against the alley wall, a little hunched, arms akimbo.

“What is it?” Jack demanded. “And where’s Rose?”

The Doctor pointed silently. Jack looked. Jack blinked. “Really?” he said.

The cat licked one of her front paws and began industriously scrubbing at the black and white fur of her ears. She cast Jack a quick, inscrutable look from slitted brown eyes.

“Huh,” said Jack, discovering that there were still things that could surprise him. Definitely didn’t see that every day. “What’re you doing?” he asked suddenly, looking back at the Doctor. “She must be cold out here.”

“Erm,” said the Doctor, scratching uncomfortably at his head. “I don’t much like cats. Well, cats don’t much like me. Got more lives than ‘em, y’see.”

Jack cautiously approached, unsure how much human sentience was packed into the tiny feline brain. “Come on now, sweetheart, let’s get you back to the TARDIS and sort you out – aren’t you a pretty thing – that’s right, I’ve got you.” He scooped her up and grinned smugly over at the Doctor. “See? Just gotta have the touch.”

“Come on, then,” said the Doctor, springing into sudden motion. “I think I know how the transmogrification matrix worked, and it’s entirely reversible. Well, if you’re brilliant, anyway. What?” he added, spotting Jack’s grin.

“I’m just so torn,” said Jack. “I mean, you get handed a moment like this once in a lifetime, if you’re very very lucky. And, my God, so many pussy jokes, how do you choose? Ow! Fuck!”

The Revani princess was flirting with the Doctor, and the Doctor was flirting back. Jack hadn’t been buying the oblivious act from the start, but it was sstill nice to have proof that the Doctor could actually receive those signals. And it all would have been fine and dandy – save the damage Rose was doing to her dentistry, grinding her teeth like that -- if the Doctor hadn’t been, well, the Doctor.

“It’s the great unsolved challenge of our race,” the princess said, guiding the Doctor over to a funny transparent sculpture thing composed of thousands of sliding, interlocked rings. “Many men have attempted to solve it, but none have yet succeeded.”

“Oh, well, you know, they just didn’t have my advantages,” the Doctor said, and plopped down right there on the mosaic palace floor to have a go. Interested courtiers congregated to watch, and Jack and Rose found a pillar to slouch against. The Doctor seemed to be humming Christmas carols, though it was hard to tell past the sonic screwdriver clenched between his teeth. And he was the Doctor, after all, so twenty minutes later he gave a triumphant “ha!” pushed the last little ring into place, and made the new statue dance the can-can.

“Marvelous!” the princess cried, applauding. She seemed on the verge of tears. “At last! I’ve been waiting so long. Doctor, you must come with me at once – I may be ovulating as we speak.”

“Beg pardon?” said the Doctor, politely boggling.

“It has been written,” said the princess. “The man who can solve the great puzzle shall be the sire of the next emperor. Come along, no time to lose.”

“Uh, now,” said the Doctor, scooting backwards.

“Do you not wish to impregnate me?” the princess asked, all incredulous hauteur.

“That is an insult,” said the captain of the guard, dropping a hand to his weapon.

“Oh, here we go,” muttered Jack. He and Rose exchanged a look, and mutually decided to keep as quiet as possible. They ducked around the pillar and waited until the fuss and furor died down a bit.

“What do we do?” Rose asked when they re-emerged into the empty hall. The puzzle statue was still can-canning.

“Bust him out,” said Jack, producing his blaster. He paused. “Though if you ask me, we should wait twelve hours.”

“We should not,” snapped Rose.

“It’d do him the world of good,” said Jack. “Turn his motor over. Get the juices flow—hmm. Bad metaphor.” He examined her expression. “No? All right, all right. Come on. Her bedroom is this way.”

“Oh—“ said the Doctor, and then produced a noise like an orchestra striking a chord, an impossibly polyphonic sound that made complex, geometric patterns draw themselves in Jack’s head.

“What was that?” Jack demanded, startled.

“That was our temporaspatial directional rudder burning out,” said the Doctor, leaping around the console.

“No, that noise,” said Jack. “Was that – was that Gallifreyan?”

“Not now,” said the Doctor. “A bit busy, what with how we’re now traveling through the time vortex blind.”

”That’s not good,” Rose said from the railing.

“We should drop out of the vortex and find out where and when we are,” Jack said, reaching for the controls.

“No no,” the Doctor said, batting him away. He seemed to have regained his composure. Or rather, Jack saw when he looked closer, to have replaced the momentary alarm with manic glee. “I can bring us in to ninetieth century Profrulocumore without the rudder.”

“What, by using the Force?” Rose asked.

The Doctor sniffed, taking firm hold of the controls. “Only a superior personal time sense is required, thank you.”

“We’re doomed,” Rose said.

“And what do you call an attitude like that, Rose Tyler?” the Doctor demanded. “We’re lost inside the time vortex. We could come out absolutely anywhere, absolutely anywhen. Who knows what fascinating thing we might find, all by accident. This is the best kind of adventure there is.”

“We’re doomed,” said Jack.

“Here we go,” the Doctor caroled, yanking hard on a lever. “Just a little to the left and a hop and a skip and voila.” The TARDIS thumped to a halt.

“Profrulocumore?” asked Jack, impressed.

The Doctor hesitated. “Well, erm, no, probably not.” He brightened. “But we’re definitely somewhere, and it’s bound to be interesting. Come on!”

They dragged back in four hours later, not particularly the worse for where, except for the Doctor’s shoes.

“’Bound to be interesting,’ he says,” Rose muttered. “’An adventure,’ he says."

“I don’t understand it,” said the Doctor, looking betrayed. “I’ve never ended up somewhere accidentally that was this . . . this . . .”

“Boring?” suggested Jack.

“Flat?” suggested Rose.

“Covered in sheep,” said the Doctor, scraping his shoe off with a disgusted look.

“Can you fix the thingywassit now?” Rose asked peevishly.

“All over it,” Jack said, going to open the grating. He cast the Doctor a look. “Unless someone would like to explore a little more?”

“No no,” said the Doctor hastily, repairs are definitely in order. He circled the console and leaned in to press his ear to the central pillar, frowning deeply.

“The rudder is over here,” Jack said.

The Doctor lifted a silencing hand. “Not those repairs.” He straightened and produced the sonic screwdriver, a determined look on his face. “Boring,” he muttered. “And sheep. Nine hundred years, and she’s never taken me anywhere boring. Something is definitely wrong.”

“Well if it ever happens again,” Rose said, “how about you forget you’re a man for a minute and stop to ask directions, yeah?”

They came back to the TARDIS just as Jack was beginning to worry. He’d left the door open while he tinkered around the console, so he heard them coming -- too far off to make out the words, but definitely the familiar cadence of bickering. He went to look, lounging in the doorway and doing his best to appear casual.

The Doctor was carrying Rose, but Jack’s reflexive spike of fear passed quickly – he could hear her laughing. The TARDIS was parked in a patch of rough gravel, and Rose’s feet were bare, he realized as they approached. As were her legs.

“Hullo,” said the Doctor, swinging Rose down and depositing her just inside the TARDIS. She was wearing the Doctor’s leather jacket, and if Jack was any judge – which he was – she was naked under it.

“Hel-lo,” said Jack, looking back and forth.

“Erm hi,” said Rose, shifting her feet. The jacket was buttoned to the chin and came to mid-thigh, and Jack found himself thinking of her sweet, bare breasts under the leather. He had a sudden, piercing urge to go to his knees, throw her leg over his shoulder, lick her until she came on his tongue.

Jack dragged his eyes away to look at the Doctor, which was no better – he was the only person Jack knew who could look so very naked in a jumper. Without the jacket, there was a V of bare skin at his throat, a double pulse beating strongly. Jack looked between them – Rose flustered but trying not to show it, the Doctor looking back with his hands in his pockets and an inscrutable expression on his face. And Jack’d always been able to resist everything but temptation, and he wanted them suddenly, desperately.

So he went to his knees and caught Rose behind the ankle and got her leg over his shoulder. She squeaked and grabbed at him for balance and said “What are you – ooh,” as he lifted the jacket and slid his tongue right into her. He fucked her hard, fast, because this was a gift and it would probably be short-lived and he was going to damn well make it good. After just a moment, her hand was in his hair, urging him on, and Jack drew back a little, gently biting at her clit just to hear her moan.

She swayed forward, and Jack encouraged her to move, to get his tongue just where she liked it, to grab fistfuls of his hair and grip as hard as she wanted. And then he felt her weight shift, and Jack eased back a bit and opened his eyes to see. The Doctor was looming over Rose’s shoulder, strange in the foreshortened perspective. Rose was unbuttoning the jacket, leaning back into him, taking the Doctor’s hand and bringing it to her breasts. Jack slid his tongue deep into her again when they kissed for the first time, and Rose came.

Jack stumbled to his feet quickly, determined that the Doctor would not puncture this gorgeous, flowering moment with some vicious or simply daft word. He had a true gift for that sort of thing. The Doctor was supporting Rose, one hand at her waist and the other on the back of her neck. He was still very hard to read when he looked over at Jack, save for the feverish glint behind his eyes. But that was nothing new – he’d been wearing that off and on since about five minutes after Jack met him.

The Doctor studied him silently over Rose’s head, an inquisitive, thoughtful quirk to his mouth. It was the exact same look he got whenever he was about to step out of the TARDIS into some mystery time and place, Jack realized. And the Doctor nodded to himself, gently urged Rose forward, and snagged a finger through Jack’s belt as they passed.

The Doctor did, in fact, have a bed. Jack had wondered. It was a big bed, too, enough for the three of them, though the Doctor and Rose seemed to be trying to meld to each other. He should have felt abandoned, Jack thought distantly as he watched. They were utterly rapt, foreheads resting together, breathing in sync, Rose’s arms tight around the Doctor’s neck as she took him inside her. ‘Sacred’ was not a word often in Jack’s vocabulary, yet here it was. He should feel left out, but he didn’t – they were as engrossing as truly great art, turning spectatorship into an erotic act -- you are changed because I watch you.

And then Rose unclasped one hand and flung it out for Jack to hold, and the Doctor looked over, smile all teeth. “You’ll get your turn,” he said, and kissed Rose like he needed the air from her lungs.

The promise in the Doctor’s words got Jack in the balls and the gut and the heart, and he held Rose’s hand tight in both of his, watching avidly. Rose’s eyes were closed when the Doctor came, but Jack was watching. The two of them clung together for a little while, and Jack let them, though it was getting physically painful.

The Doctor moved first, kissing Rose’s upturned face and rolling carefully away. He didn’t say anything, and Jack respected the silence, letting the Doctor manhandle him a bit to show him what he wanted. Rose was utterly limp, all dreamy-eyed and damp-skinned. She blinked sluggishly as Jack settled between her thighs, the Doctor’s hand warm on the small of his back.

“Hey,” Jack said softly, touching her cheek. Her smile was beautiful, and she pulled him down for a kiss, sighing into his mouth as he slipped effortlessly inside her. She was unbelievably warm and slick -- he was just here. Jack held still, doing his best to keep his weight on his arms. He found himself saying unintelligible, filthily prayerful things into Rose’s hair as the Doctor worked him open with long fingers, and then his cock.

The Doctor was in control of this slow, ebbing rhythm. His breathing was steady in Jack’s ear, and Jack’s unconsciously came to match it. He was caught between them, pinned, a vessel for their pleasure and wanting nothing else.

Rose was pleasure-drunk and sensitized, and it didn’t take her long to come beneath him, eyes shut, nearly silent. Jack kissed her through it, then pressed his face into her hair while the Doctor pushed him flat and took his turn at her mouth. Rose made inarticulate, replete noises, and she gently pushed at Jack as the Doctor pulled out.

Jack went, rolling over eagerly and reaching for the Doctor. He’d made a list for this exact moment, complete with priority rankings. There was no way he could get to more than a fraction of those desires, but he was damn well going to try. But the Doctor seemed to have plans of his own, and Jack was not about to complain as the Doctor rolled him onto his back and helped him draw up one leg. Rose drowsed beside them, head turned to watch through shuttered eyelids. The Doctor was slow and gentle at first, moving carefully inside Jack, bringing their hands together to clasp palm-to-palm on either side of Jack’s head. He stretched out atop Jack and kissed him thoroughly, deliberately, then rested their foreheads together. His eyes were wide open, tender, flaying, and Jack wondered distantly how Rose had stood that gaze, the look that seemed to touch him everywhere at once, to stir up old fragments of unconnected memory and strike sparks of strange pleasure from their sharp edges. He wondered how he could stand it, yet he could not look away.

The tenor changed toward the end; the Doctor’s breath came raggedly, and he drew Jack’s arms up higher, gathering them behind his head. His thrusts were rougher, his hips grinding insistently, and it was the thought of the bruises he was leaving that finally made Jack come. The Doctor rode it out, fucking him hard and unrelenting, his eyes unblinking on Jack’s face. And then he let go and came, biting down on Jack’s shoulder – unexpected flare of aftershock pleasure.

Later, when they’d pulled up a blanket to cover the sweaty, exhausted pile, Jack finally had to ask.

“So where are your clothes?” he said, poking Rose.

“Erm,” said Rose.

Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “Now she blushes? Come on, out with it.”

“No,” said Rose, chin setting stubbornly. “And don’t you go telling him either,” she added repressively to the Doctor.

“Oh come on,” complained the Doctor. “It’s a great story.”

“If you’re not me,” muttered Rose.

“You can tell me,” coaxed Jack.

“Why don’t you just consider it one of life’s great mysteries,” said Rose, smiling sweetly, and kissed him until he forgot to complain.

San Francisco in the fall of 2017 was beautiful. Except for the weird body-morphing alien hot dog vendor, anyway, and the part where they chased it for nearly sixteen hours before finally cornering it and convincing it to go peddle its hallucinogenic, dubiously bovine product on someone else’s planet. The three of them straggled back to the peer, fantasizing out loud about hot showers and fresh clothes.

It was only luck that they came around the corner just in time to see the City of San Francisco Police Department flatbed pulling out, the TARDIS looking small and incongruous on it.

“Hey!” shouted the Doctor, running forward. “Where are they taking my ship?”

“Uh, my guess would be the impound lot,” said Rose, pointing. “No parking,” she read off the sign, and started giggling. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you what the red curb means, Doctor?”

“But, but.” The Doctor was staring after the disappearing truck. He looked more than a little shell-shocked. “They’re taking my TARDIS. How’re we going to get it back?”

“Impound,” said Rose. “You can pay to get it back, I’m pretty sure.”

The Doctor did not appear reassured. “But they took the TARDIS,” he said. “How will we get there?”

“Well, we can always do what everyone else does,” said Rose.

“What?” asked the Doctor blankly.

“Come on,” said Rose, collecting herself and catching each of them by the hand. “This way.”

The Doctor followed along reluctantly, then balked at the top of the escalator Rose indicated. “The train?” he asked disbelievingly. “I don’t take the train.”

Rose did her best, but the mirth definitely showed through. “Well, you could walk,” she said, and pulled Jack along with her into the station. The Doctor trailed along after, looking offended and out-of-his-depth. He was entirely silent, in fact, until they located the impound lot and he was compelled to employ the psychic paper and state that yes, that was his antique telephonic device, and no he hadn’t seen the sign, and he was very sorry, just here visiting, would know better next time, here was the fine.

“All right then,” the attendant said at last, stamping the final form. “How do you plan to remove your, uh, modern art installation?”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” the Doctor said, beginning to smile for the first time. “Come along you two, and don’t think I can’t hear you sniggering back there. All aboard.”

“What—“ said the attendant, but the Doctor had ushered them in and simply closed the door in his face.

“The train,” he said, practically flinging himself at the console. “The ruddy train . . .”