phinnia: smiling dolphin face (Default)
phinnia ([personal profile] phinnia) wrote2011-05-03 02:48 pm
Entry tags:

dark dreams (jack/nine/rose, jack/ten, (but mostly) jack/eleven, r)

title: dark dreams
author: [personal profile] phinnia
challenge: 2011 Doctor/Jack Bingo
prompt: dreams of the past
pairing: doctor/jack (specifically jack/11, although jack/9/rose is mentioned and jack/10 UST is referred to)
rating: r
disclaimer: a wandering minstrel i, a thing of shreds and patches. i own nothing.
spoilers/warnings: none

When Jack had met his first Doctor, all leather jacket armor and timeless eyes, he and Rose used to have to tag-team-wake him up from his dark dreams. He never knew what those dreams were about - that Doctor never was one for sharing - but he remembers Gallifreyan mumble-muttering that changed to shouting soon enough.

Jack took the point position - shaking and waking - because he had better reflexes and the Doctor could forgive himself if he clipped Jack on the shoulder, or the chin, or the eye. Rose was next up, swooping in to settle him as much as she could (as only she could, really).


Jack's second Doctor - Pinstripes, trainers and timeless eyes - well, he probably still had those dreams, but he was Just Fine, according to him, and Jack was Wrong, and they had enough Issues between the two of them to sink the TARDIS. Jack didn't bother to try anymore.


It wasn't until his third Doctor - tweed, bowtie, occasional fez and timeless eyes - that the shoe was on the other foot.

Jack had been picked up, coddled, wheedled and apologised to within an inch of his very long life (and that right there was when he knew this Doctor was different, because Pinstripes and Trainers would have probably french-kissed a Judoon before he even admitted he might have been wrong, never mind apologised to someone's face and meant it) and was put to bed in what was supposedly his old room (it did look somewhat familiar) before he realized what the problem was with going to bed.


Oh, shit, this isn't going to go well,, he thought, and that was about all he thought for a while, because the Doctor had slipped a sedative into his tea.


He kept shaking Ianto's limp body, but he couldn't shake him awake, and then Ianto's eyes blinked open - but his face wasn't Ianto's, it was Stephen, staring reproachfully at him - it was Owen - it was Grey -

Something shook him, once, and again. He tried to turn away from it, tried to turn deeper into the dream. He deserved this, he really did, but the shaking was insistent, and then there were lips, cool and soft, tracing his eyelids and the lines of his forehead, and he turned toward the lips, seeking them out with his own.

"Good." Someone hummmed against his neck. "Come on, Jack, come back to me." Another soft kiss, this time against his throat.

"D-" He coughed. "Doctor?"

The Doctor was close - very close: lying on top of the blankets, not underneath them, but they were still very much at risk of bumping noses. He was wearing striped pyjamas that were a bit too long in the legs, and his hair was sticking up every which way.

"You were having a nightmare." The Doctor murmured, as if a loud voice would break the spell of the room. "I thought I'd wake you up - you know, for old times' sake."

"Thank you."

There was an awkward pause.

"I suppose I'd better-"

"You don't have to-"

"Oh, are you sure--?"

"Of course." Jack held open the blanket and almost immediately regretted it when he realized he'd gone to bed wearing nothing but boxers; but the Doctor just brushed lips softly against his and said "Sssh. In the morning, Jack."

And they did.

(but that is another story.)