[for the doctor]

What a fucking day. Jack came back to his room and did the right thing, letting others have his bed. Tosh. Gwen. Ianto. They were going to need more rooms or something.

But tonight he was worn down and raw. He'd had enough honesty for one night. Right now he could just go for the right kind of Doctor.

(no subject)

Because I'm this lazy, here's the list of gifts.

Death got an aquarium starter kit with pump, filter, rocks, etc.

Greg got a 1 gallon jug of liquid latex.

Stu got a toolbox filled with hand tools. Chisels, saw, hammer, etc.

Crowley got a carton of cigarettes.

CJ got The Black Vera Wang.

Jack got

Chris got an Airstream. Empty and immobile.

He's just more flexible when it comes to dancing

Jack found the package addressed to him and scurried off to his room to open it. He wasn't used to getting gifts. In fact, he hadn't gotten one since...well, there was Christmas, but he hadn't been given anything since Jane baked him a pie all his own.

He unwrapped it carefully and poured over the records and just stared at the player for a long time. It was surreal, this thing that really wasn't anything spectacular and yet he was so happy he couldn't stop smiling. After a long time of just exploring it, he took an LP out of it's cover and laid it on the turntable. A few cranks of the handle and it began to spin, Moonlight Serenade spilling out his door and down the stairs.

[for those treehouse people who want a dance]