[AU Roger]

[more_flexible]

Christmas, 1989. He was still stuck in New York, waiting around for his new orders. Dinkins was mayor now, had been for two months. Jack's mission was complete and now all there was to do was bum around the city, take in shows, drink, eat, and try not to change history.

Pretty easy, when you thought about it. Jack treated it like shore leave, and he enjoyed everything the city had to offer. He'd forgotten how many gorgeous people were around this city. He'd forgotten what this time was like for some.

A stunning little latino queen had gotten him to come to Alphabet City to see some performance piece. It wasn't very good, but the woman was hot and the crowd migrated to the Life Cafe afterward and Jack tagged along. He had plenty of money and no qualms spending it on, well, everyone.

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[one--song.livejournal.com]

It was Roger's first night out since he'd come back from half a year of withdrawal, and things had gone... alright, considering. Collins' new love interest was pretty spectacular to be around. Mark had insisted and insisted that Roger leave the house and, in true Roger fashion, it wasn't until Mark had given up completely that he'd shoved his leather jacket on and left the house. Mark looked positively tickled that Roger had emerged, and maybe that was some of the reason he'd left the flat, but... well. He didn't know why. Maybe Angel.

Roger held the door for the crowd as they poured in, and he spotted Collins looking over his shoulder.

"Where's Mark?" It was a question Roger, himself had been going over in his head.

"I dunno, man." He sighed, the condensation escaping through cold, chapped lips. He jerked his head in. "Let's wait for him inside." Collins went through the door, and Roger followed.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

Jack was already inside, talking to a table of people he'd seen before the police decided to beat heads in. He'd gotten a few out of the space before all hell broke completely loose, and found himself in the cafe. He still had his topcoat on and stood out, looking like he'd fallen out of World War II, but in this crowd it came off as vintage. He was just another unique person in a crowd of unique people.

And speaking of unique...he saw Angel come in with a couple men, one of which wasn't being fondled and fawned over. Jack smiled and excused himself so he could join them.

After a short disagreement about being seated and who was paying, Jack kissed Angel on the cheek and shook the man called Collins's hand, then turned his attention to the blond with great eyes.

"Hi," he smiled. "I'm Captain Jack Harkness," he said, offering the guy his hand.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

In less than 24 hours, things with Mark had become complicated and almost unwanted. It wasn't like they'd never fucked around before, but Roger had made the mistake of referring to his recollection of it for the first time, and he was afraid of what that meant. There was just so much he was afraid of.

The man's period dress caught his eye, first, and then he was kissing Angel on the cheek. She knew everyone, it seemed like, and it brought Roger back to a time that he had been that one... Whenever he'd walked into any room, 10 to 15 admirers on his ass at all times, begging for attention, fawning, kissing, flirting, biting their lips. He missed it. Almost as much as he hated the memory of it.

With a small wave to Rosie from across the room, Roger returned to the conversation. Collins, Angel, and the man- Jack, apparently- were all looking at him expectantly and that was when he realized that it was him being spoken to. He didn't think anything of it. Not yet.

"Captain of what?" Roger asked, regarding him in a way that screamed 'recluse.'

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

"Oh, you know," Jack replied with a vague wave of his hand. "O, Captain, my Captain...The stripes came with the jacket," he said, smiling brightly. Captain of the RAF 133rd had no sway in this day and age, but Jack did like the title.

He didn't look like he got out much and Jack made the quick decision to tone it down from brilliant to simply radiant. No need to overpower anyone. Especially anyone with a voice like that.

"Do you guys want to get a table? Tonight's on me, since Angel was sweet enough to get me down here," he said to everyone, even though he never took his eyes off Roger.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

So Roger's eyes went to the jacket and then back to Jack's face.

"A military man? Brave of you to show your face in these parts," Roger said, and his voice was deep, quiet, gravelly, perpetually like he'd just awoken from deep slumber, and punctuated with harsh New York consonants.

There was a resounding cheer in response to Jack's request, and the masses began shoving tables together, much to the dismay of the host. And in all the din, Jack was gazing at Roger as if he were the only person in the room, and that was when he dropped his gaze, cheeks flushing in the long-since unfamiliar tension.

"S'nice of you, man," Collins intoned, and went toward the table, arms around Angel.

Roger said nothing, he just inspected the room. So different from six months ago.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

"Maybe once upon a time, but not anymore," Jack said, then nodded at Collins. "Hey, no problem. Nothing better than a post riot party, right?" he chuckled, taking a step away from the bustle of the crowd.

Which just happened to put him next to Roger.

"Want to go get a chair before they're all taken?" he asked quietly. It wasn't like he needed to make the suggestion at all because Mark was making certain Roger didn't remain by the doorway. Jack watched the two and wondered if it was actually a possibility the guy would run from a crowd of people who so obviously cared about him.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

The news that Jack was at the very least an ex military man was good news, and he seemed to fall in well with the idea of a riot, so Roger relaxed. A little.

Mark had come in the door and was blathering on about how they bought his riot footage, and Roger smiled at his best friend, and then the invitation was extended. Now there was expectancy hanging in the air, awaiting Roger's response.

"Yeah," he said to Jack, and he sat down between Mark and an empty chair. The room seemed satisfied.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

Jack took a free chair across the table next to Angel and smiled through much of the conversation, until Benjamin Coffin the Third began to talk and the mood dropped rapidly. Being an outsider, he could only catch a little of what was going on.

Real estate dispute. Hmm, this might prove to be a little more interesting than he'd thought.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

Roger was having trouble tearing his eyes away from Jack. He was wondering about him, really. Where he came from, the reasons they'd never met, and what the hell he did to get his eyes so fucking blue.

And then Benny's hand landed on his shoulder and Roger was rocked from his trance. His reaction was almost automatic:

"Why did Muffy--"

"Allison." Benny's tone was sharp and hard. Roger looked less than phased, smirking to Mark.

"--miss the show?" He looked more than self-satisfied.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

He lifted his glass to drink when Benny said there'd been a death in the family, and nearly choked when Angel stood and asked who died. He got the feeling he was out of an inside joke, but there was enough mirth that it was contagious. He watched Roger and Mark say to one another, 'Evita' and he couldn't take his eyes off that smile.

And before he knew what was going on, Mark was delivering a eulogy.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

Roger was extremely surprised when Mark stood, and even more so when words that so much resembled an anthem of their very lives. So he did what any man in his situation would do: stood up and held out his hands, eyes sparkling as Collins did the same. They chanted lowly under Mark's voice, looking around. Collins was looking for followers. Roger was trying to look anywhere but at Jack.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

He was completely caught up in the crowd and the energy and the impromptu song. La vie beheme, indeed...these was the kind of people he could relate to. Before he really knew what the hell was going on, he was on the table with Angel, singing along with her. It was pure magic. It was a moment unlike any other...and somehow, he was keenly aware of one person more than any other in the crowd.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

There were moments where Roger was on the table, arm around Collins, and then he was playing his guitar, filming alternately, laughing and trying not to think about how he could feel Jack's eyes on him. What did he expect? He didn't know anything. He was so clearly a stranger and Roger was right at home, owning his discomfort, selling his life, and renting his emotions. He would never want to be a part of that if he knew.

He set his guitar down, a bit of the way away from the crowd. He just needed a moment.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

In his dreams, Roger saw the universe. It spiraled and danced around a ship that, not surprisingly, looked much like the Millennium Falcon (meeting Jack was much like meeting Han Solo, which, fuck, talk about dreams you want becoming reality), but one tight-pants-clad captain was substituted for another and Captain Jack Harkness was at the helm, steering, laughing, and the light of the suns they orbited were dulled by his brilliant smile. Roger could feel the warmth, even when he woke up, feel it buzzing heat from his heart outward. The infinite blackness of space was supposed to be cold, but to him it was like sitting around a fireplace with his family. Heat from the inside, out.

The memories of the previous night curled his lips into a smile, but he didn't open his eyes, yet. The moment consciousness graced him, he forgot what it was that had occupied his mind throughout the night, but it felt good and right and that made him pretty sure it had to do with Jack. Jack. Who had come out of nowhere and made perfect sense and had this weird fucking story to tell, and Roger couldn't wait to hear more in the time they'd had....

His eyes flew open. Alone. He was alone in that big bed, and Jack's clothes were nowhere to be found. In the ray of sun that lit the room through dirty windows, Roger searched everywhere for a trace of him. He found none. Not a fucking one. Had it all been a dream? No. Maybe the words had been false, or maybe the meaning had changed. Probably what had happened was that Jack had realized the gravity of the baggage and taken off. How much of his story had been true? And Jesus, how much of an idiot did it make Roger for actually believing it for a second?

But then he heard it. Laughter through the walls. Collins' laughter, that was familiar, and Angel's, that was becoming more and more synonymous with 'home,' but there was another bout of it. And it wasn't Mark's awkward breath of a laugh, either. This laugh warmed him like the universe around him had, and the smile it came from. He hadn't known him long enough to be sure, but he thought, just maybe...

In nothing but those black-and-white skull boxers, Roger padded out of the bedroom, hair in wild curls about his head, sleep not quite yet ready to loosen its hold on him.

"Hey, man!" Collins' voice came crisp and smooth and Roger looked from him, to Angel, to Mark, and then to Jack. He smiled.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

"...No, I swear. We were running, my whole squad, and we were naked," Jack managed to get out, Angel laughing and leaning her head on Collins's shoulder even as he turned to greet Roger.

Jack had just taken another bite of his breakfast, a huge selection spread out on the little round table open for everyone. Pancakes, sausages, rice and beans and tortillas, eggs scrambled with peppers and onions, the works. And coffee.

He looked up and swallowed before he smiled at Roger, the mirth in his eyes sparkling and warm. "Hey, baby. Angel and I brought it back since you and Collins were sleeping so well. Come on...eat something," he said, moving over to make room for the nearly naked man.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

His hand paused as it scratched through his hair, surveying the room. How was it that Jack looked like he belonged exactly where he was no matter where that place may have been? It was this shithole apartment and he was sitting there, the host of this fucking feast and looking like it was the most normal thing in the world. Well, the universe, Roger expected.

Slowly, and cautiously- though the latter was more of Mark than anything else- Roger headed for the table, but only after he'd ducked back into his room and pulled out a blue hoodie that he pulled over his body sloppily and some sweats. Not the most attractive thing in the world, but fairly fashionable for the time.

"I'm really not hungry," he murmured quietly, but he did sit down, right next to Jack. His observed the table. He had never seen so much food adorning it. It looked... well, foreign. Like he was in someone else's living room.

He smiled a bit at Jack, dazed and a little caught off guard. The entire morning had already been disorienting, and compared to the night before, it was fuckin' easy.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

"Oh, eat something, honey," Angel said, shoving a styrofoam container closer. "It's still warm, even. We just got back."

Jack looked over the length of his shoulder and smiled at Roger, picking a scrap of tortilla smeared with beans and added a little egg to. "You looked like you were dreaming," he said softly. "Watched you while the sun came up, then when I heard Angel, I got out of bed." He popped the bite in his outh then looked over at Mark.

"Tell me about your movie, Mark. A documentary?"

[one--song.livejournal.com]

When Angel told you to eat, you just did, so he took the container and spooned out a bit of egg, reached and grabbed the salt, attacked the eggs with it, and then poured himself some coffee to drink, black.

"You watched me?" Roger whispered to Jack, under Mark's tirade about Collins' concept of Actual Reality (which later gave way to Collins' own explanation) and working titles and 8mm film and footage and the homeless, tent city, blah blah... and all the footage of Roger.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

"Little bit," Jack answered quietly, watching the conversation between Collins and Mark reach new levels of philosophy and humor. He polished off the last of his food and shifted so he could lean against Roger a little and Angel grew bored litening to the men so she pulled out her sticks and began to beat a rhythm on the edge of the table, the closed lid of an empty container, and the dull surface of the cushion.

The phone rang and Mark listened to the voice before going to talk to Alexi and Collins took the seat next to Angel and broke out a joint, leaning into his arms as he lit up.

Jack took the illusion of privacy and the other couple's show of intimacy to partake of a little of his own. As Roger ate, he moved to the floor to give him more room and wrapped his arm around Roger's calf. "Do you have any pans for the day?" he asked, looking up at him with a mischevious grin.

"Oh! I was gonna go to the park," Angel said as he took the joint from Collins and hit it once. "See if I could drum up some cash."

[one--song.livejournal.com]

A bit of pride swelled in Roger's chest as Mark spoke into the phone about his footage and the like, but he was suspicious of where this would lead for dear Mark. Selling footage meant selling work, meant selling a piece of yourself, which meant that a company had a certain amount of control of the content of your work and, in turn, that little bit of your soul that Mark had pressed between the frames.

At Angel's pun, Roger made an amused face. It was the one that was usually reserved for prodding and poking fun at Collins when he did something that Roger's 12-year-old boy sense of humor interpreted differently. Then Jack's arms were around his calf, and he looked down at him, smiling softly.

"I dunno. Why?"

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

Jack looked up with a gleam in his eye and a sweet smile, then turned to Angel to talk a bit more about the park and her plans. His fingers traced tender circles against Roger's ankle.

It was a few minutes before Mark hung up and sighed heavily. "She wants me to come in and talk about my footage of the riot. I don't know...I don't know..." he said, losing himself in thought. Money, yeah, they needed money, but he had his film...

Jack leaned closer to Roger, reaching out for a tortilla. "I have to go downtown for a little bit, but I was wondering if I took the train back if you'd like to..." he said to Roger, leaving the offer open-ended.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

"For what?" Roger asked, fear gripping him from the spot where Jack drew nothing-patterns on his ankle, up his leg, then shot throughout his body like acid in his veins. Downtown for business or pleasure? Either way, he didn't like it. He was caught between trying not to care to save himself, and already caring far too much to turn back. The breakdown in the contradiction. The comfort in the juxtaposition.

Really, he didn't even hear Mark. Well. Sorta. He cast a patient glance at him, and then returned his attention to the gorgeous man that seemed to worship him with his eyes.

"To what?"

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

"For a little bit," he replied, smiling with his lips shut as he chewed and swallowed. "I was wondering if you'd like to do something. Get out. Go someplace. If you're not busy, you could come with me," he said.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

The invitation put Roger's overactive imagination to rest a little, and he relaxed, replacing his hand on Jack's further shoulder.

"Umh... sure," he said, and pretended not to notice Collins exchanging a glance with Mark. "Yeah. Let's... go out." If he remembered how. Meeting Jack must have given him the impression that Roger was used to going out. He so, so wasn't. Not even close.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

"Great!" he exclaimed, surreptitiously winking at Angel a he turned his head away to look over at Mark and Roger. "You don't mind if we're a little late, do you?" he asked them, nodding at the door like it meant something. "I don't think my stuff will take very long, so we might take over Manhatten."

Jack uncoiled himself from Roger's leg, getting to his knees and twisting beneath the weight of his arm. "Finish eating, baby. This'll be a day you won't forget."