more_flexible | [for the doctor]

Maybe it was the time of year, screw the whole tropical island thing, but the Doctor had been more and more sleepy lately. This afternoon, he'd managed to finish one of the sofas in the main room, upholster it, and try not to think about all of the completely mad shite that was going on.

The last was more wishful thinking. But now he was flopped out on the sofa, reading and really, really missing wet weather, as the book was doing a good job of evoking a Scottish winter: damp and cold. This whole Nice Out thing was getting bloody monotonous.

He came in and kicked off his shoes, holding the wall so e didn't fall over.

"Hi," he said quietly. "Hurt. Bed," he said, hoping the Doctor wouldn't notice his eyes or the way he sort of shuffled when he walked.

The whole monosyllablic thing was a little hard to miss, though, and the Doctor looked up. He stared at Jack. "Christ, you look like you've been through the war...what in the hell?"

"Squid," he replied, keeping up the trend. "Yesterday on the beach. I...helped," he said as he peeled his shirt off, his whole torso covered with round marks.

The Doctor...well, gawked. "Helped what, become a window cling?" He rolled into a sitting position and motioned Jack over to sit. "Come here." It was the tone of voice you did not mess with.

Of course he came over and sat. He knew he probably reeked, House could tell, there was no way the Doctor wouldn't. "It picked me up and threw me onto the beach," he said as he sat. "But I saved Ragetti and helped River and Sarah Jane. Ace gave me nitro and we finally blew the fucker up, man."

"Sarah Jane and Ace were there?!" The Doctor now looked like he was going to flip, but he apparently found some inner moment of zen. Or maybe it was just a contact high.

He sniffed. "Good that she got to blow up something...you smell like the Dead's tour bus, Jack."

"I hurt," he admitted. "Once the play is done, I'm not doing a damn thing. I'm sick of building and swimming and fighting and running and carrying people," he said, totally exhausted. "I just want to...rest."

"I meant the Grateful Dead," the Doctor said, but didn't seem overly concerned about that. "And resting's good. I can approve of that." Though Jack had been so up in arms about mattering recently.

"I'm gonna go to bed," he murmured, making no attempt to move. "Gotta get through the play then I'm good..."

"You," the Doctor said, "are not going to go anywhere if you've been fighting squid and blowing things up and getting high. You'll topple from your patio and then I'd have the whole Drama Club on my arse."

Jack looked at him and grinned. "I won't fall. I just need to get up the stairs. You're so worried, you could help."

The Doctor, looking very put upon, slowly stood up...and then grinned back, offering Jack a hand. "Come on."

He took his hand and pulled himself up with a harsh exhalation. Once he was upright, he blinked slowly and finally just closed his eyes. "You smell good."

The Doctor smelled of sweat and himself and books, to be honest, but he wasn't going to complain. "Don't fall asleep yet," he said, gently patting Jack's good shoulder.

Jack nodded and opened his eyes, focusing on the Doctor. It took more effort tha normal, but he started for the stairs, pulling the Doctor along. "House said the last time he got stoned he tied you down," he said, the thought process from 'smell good' to 'tied down' making sense in his head.

At which the Doctor turned a bright shade of pink. "Yeah, he kinda did," he said. Kinda meaning 'really'.

"Cool," he replied, taking the steps as he kept hold of the Doctor's hand. "I did it to him. After, y'know, you two did," he admitted.

Cool. The Doctor turned even pinker. "That's...uh...good," he said, carefully guiding Jack up the stairs.

"No. Not good. I did stuff...told Wilson last night about, you know, Agency stuff," he sdrawled softly, leaning heavily against the wall at the landing and looking at the Doctor with heavy-lidded eyes. "Just following orders, you know. Makes me wonder about what's gone."

"Jack..." the Doctor said, looking back at him. "You can't worry about it. Not here. You can't afford to."

"I have to," he said as he pushed off the wall and went into the Doctor's room uninvited and stripped naked without any effort at all. "I'm going to be a father. You're right, you know. I don't know what I'm getting into. All the people I've hurt...how can I even want this? How can Lisa?" he asked as he crawled into the bed.

The Doctor blinked, not sure why Jack was going into his room, but whatever. He gawked at the sucker marks for a moment, and then sat down with a flop in a chair. "But you're trying to be a good person now," he said, even though he still thought the baby thing was a Bad Idea.

"Yeah," he agreed, laying on his stomach an resting his head on his arms. He watched the Doctor sit...so far away...and closed his eyes. "I told Lisa if she wasn't pregnant this month, she'd have to find someone else for next time."

The thing about Jack being stoned was that his face was even more readable than usual. The Doctor sighed and got up, sitting on the bed next to him. "Why? Because you don't think you're...suitable?"

"Because I'm tired of hurting people. You, Greg, Chase...hell, I think Wilson too. And there's Dale and Ace. Too many people upset about this," he said.

The Doctor let out a long sigh. "I just don't know what to think," he said, exhausted.

"I think..." he started, then ran his fingers across the Doctor's back, "...I'm tired of disappointing you."

"Jack..." The Doctor closed his eyes and slowly lay down next to Jack. "I..."

Jack rolled a little and draped an arm over him. "You're so beautiful."

The Doctor didn't pretend Jack's arm didn't feel good, but he couldn't help but lift a brow. "You're still stoned," he murmured.

"You're still beautiful," he said with a broad smile as he leaned in and kissed him softly, savoring every sensation.

The kiss was slow, and the Doctor was tentative at first, a little uncomfortable, but slowly moved back into it.

Jack cupped his cheek softly, tasting him, breathing him in. "Love you," he whispered, moving closer.

"Love you too," the Doctor said, but was still tense. He closed his eyes.

"No you don't," he breathed. "I can feel it. It's okay. Nothing lasts."

Shaking his head, the Doctor leaned in. "Yes, I do," he said. It's not just the..."

Jack kissed him harder, stopping the words. Too many words. Too much noise. Hands fumbled under the Doctor's shirt.

But the Doctor couldn't do it. Something in his stomach wrenched, and he eased away carefully, brow furrowing. "Jack, I can't..." he said quietly. "Don't go, I just...I can't."

Hands froze and Jack nodded, eyes still closed. "Okay," he said. "I stop."

The Doctor leaned into Jack and closed his eyes again. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Me too," he said as he pulled his hands back. "Maybe...next time."

The Doctor leaned into him some more, not wanting him to go entirely. "Stay?"

"If you stay too," he said as he blinked slowly and finally focused on the Doctor. "Don't leave me."

"Never," the Doctor swore, looking back at him. "Not anymore."

"Mmmm," he smiled, curling against him and holding on loosely. "Mine."

[for the doctor]

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