ext_2676 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
plaid-slytherin.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
wintercompanion2010-11-29 12:26 am
plaid-slytherin.livejournal.com) wrote in wintercompanion2010-11-29 12:26 am
Entry tags:
plaid_slytherin: Pubcrawling (Ten/Jack) [Teen]
Title: Pubcrawling
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
plaid_slytherin
Challenge: Traditions
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Ten/Jack
Spoilers/warnings: None
Summary: The Doctor and Jack have a tradition... thing.
It was an old pub, with an air of dankness, though if one examined it very closely, there wasn't really any dirt. The bar was well-scrubbed and the brass fixtures were polished until they gleamed in the low light. The darkened windows weren't grimy, but they allowed for privacy. Jack had chosen it, because it was his turn to choose, and the Doctor wasn't allowed to argue when it was Jack's turn to choose.
The Doctor defined arguing very loosely.
"Why do you keep picking the same old place every time?" he asked, as he and Jack entered the pub for what had to be the ninety-fifth time.
Jack shrugged. "I like it." He gave the barman a somewhat-flirtatious smile that turned the corners of the Doctor's mouth down slightly.
"Yeah, but there are other places," he continued, following Jack's lead and removing his coat. Jack took it from him and hung it on the coat rack, which, if the Doctor remembered his timelines correctly, had to be an antique.
"I know," said Jack. "I just like this place." He signaled the man behind the counter—they'd been here enough times to be considered regulars, even if those times had been slightly out of order, and more time had passed for Jack and the Doctor than had passed for the pub.
They selected their usual booth, and the Doctor slid in across from Jack, trying to avoid some of the larger rips in the red leather seats.
"And I have picked other places," Jack continued. "I picked that one on Rama IV, the one with the…"
"Jam wrestling, yes." The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck, remembering how sticky that had been.
"You just don't like my picks," said Jack accusingly.
"That's not true!" sputtered the Doctor. "I liked… I liked…" He trailed off. "I liked that place in Wagaganda!"
"You picked that first," Jack reminded him. "I picked it because I knew you liked it."
The Doctor frowned. That was very sweet, actually. Not that he would mention it to Jack.
The Doctor didn't know how they had fallen into this routine, him and Jack. It had come upon them unexpectedly, a few months after they'd found each other on Ghaso XII.
It had been in a pub, not a pub like this one, more of a nightclub, really, but as a general rule, the Doctor didn't go to nightclubs.
He still remembered it like it was yesterday, even though, in reality, he had lost track of how long ago it had really been.
He'd been in the club purely by accident. He'd meant to go to the crystalline waterfalls on the other side of town, to see how they looked at night, when they changed colors. The TARDIS had had other plans, however, and the Doctor had opened the doors to find the thrum of club music radiating out of the building. He could feel it through the soles of his trainers as he strode toward the building. Why had the TARDIS brought him here?
He flashed his psychic paper at the bouncers, without even bothering to see who they thought he was. There must have been something about this place, or the TARDIS wouldn't have taken him here—he'd been careful to set the controls exactly for the waterfalls.
As soon as he'd entered the bar area, he'd known what it was.
Jack was sitting there, toying with a cardboard coaster, looking very out of place in clothing that would have been at home on Earth in the 1940s. The purple and pink strobe lights contrasted greatly with his melancholic mood.
The Doctor hesitated for a moment, before crossing over to Jack and dropping onto the barstool beside him. "Buy you a drink?" he asked, resting his chin on his hands.
They had gone on from there—the Doctor had bought Jack his first drink, and then, some weeks later, the next time they found a bar, pub, watering hole, Jack had bought the Doctor a drink.
This pub, Jack's favorite, with the mirror behind the bar making the collection of liquor look bigger, and the sorry, unused pool table in the center of the room, was the one they came to most often. And as much as the Doctor would have preferred going somewhere else—he liked variety—he knew it made Jack happy. And he liked making Jack happy.
He liked making all his companions happy, of course, but it seemed that, especially lately, he had been particularly invested in making Jack happy. Jack wasn't like the Doctor's other companions—he had none of the wide-eyed wonder with which some of the Doctor's other favorite humans viewed TARDIS travel (though, despite this, Jack did have his moments of surprise).
The Doctor's life had certainly changed since he'd adopted Jack as a traveling companion. The situations they got themselves into were, on average, more dangerous than the places the Doctor would have considered taking Rose, Martha, or Donna. Perhaps this was why they had adopted this... tradition, almost... of taking time to relax. After all, forever was a long time to live without some kind of break.
Jack nodded at the pool table. "Fancy a game?"
The Doctor regarded it with an air of disdain. "You don't want to do that, Jack."
"Oh?" Jack grinned. "Afraid of losing to me."
The Doctor snorted. "Oh, please. I practically invented it. I mean, I was right there, in the billiards room, with Colonel Mustard and that lot." He paused. "Brilliant fellow, that Professor Plum. And Miss Scarlet, well. She was really something."
"Then you won't mind proving your skills." Jack had barely finished speaking before he was on his feet, headed for the center of the room.
The Doctor allowed himself a smirk. "You only wish you could have had the time I've had to master the game."
"I'm older than you," Jack reminded him.
"Technically." The Doctor got to his feet and reached for a cue.
"It's true, though."
The Doctor laughed. "Then show me what you've got, old man," he said, adopting an accent that made Jack grin.
"Oh, you are going down."
The Doctor smiled to himself, as he and Jack took up their positions. Maybe this could be a new thing, a new part of the tradition. He probably didn't mind.
As long as they occasionally went to other places to do it.
Author:
plaid_slytherinChallenge: Traditions
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Ten/Jack
Spoilers/warnings: None
Summary: The Doctor and Jack have a tradition... thing.
It was an old pub, with an air of dankness, though if one examined it very closely, there wasn't really any dirt. The bar was well-scrubbed and the brass fixtures were polished until they gleamed in the low light. The darkened windows weren't grimy, but they allowed for privacy. Jack had chosen it, because it was his turn to choose, and the Doctor wasn't allowed to argue when it was Jack's turn to choose.
The Doctor defined arguing very loosely.
"Why do you keep picking the same old place every time?" he asked, as he and Jack entered the pub for what had to be the ninety-fifth time.
Jack shrugged. "I like it." He gave the barman a somewhat-flirtatious smile that turned the corners of the Doctor's mouth down slightly.
"Yeah, but there are other places," he continued, following Jack's lead and removing his coat. Jack took it from him and hung it on the coat rack, which, if the Doctor remembered his timelines correctly, had to be an antique.
"I know," said Jack. "I just like this place." He signaled the man behind the counter—they'd been here enough times to be considered regulars, even if those times had been slightly out of order, and more time had passed for Jack and the Doctor than had passed for the pub.
They selected their usual booth, and the Doctor slid in across from Jack, trying to avoid some of the larger rips in the red leather seats.
"And I have picked other places," Jack continued. "I picked that one on Rama IV, the one with the…"
"Jam wrestling, yes." The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck, remembering how sticky that had been.
"You just don't like my picks," said Jack accusingly.
"That's not true!" sputtered the Doctor. "I liked… I liked…" He trailed off. "I liked that place in Wagaganda!"
"You picked that first," Jack reminded him. "I picked it because I knew you liked it."
The Doctor frowned. That was very sweet, actually. Not that he would mention it to Jack.
The Doctor didn't know how they had fallen into this routine, him and Jack. It had come upon them unexpectedly, a few months after they'd found each other on Ghaso XII.
It had been in a pub, not a pub like this one, more of a nightclub, really, but as a general rule, the Doctor didn't go to nightclubs.
He still remembered it like it was yesterday, even though, in reality, he had lost track of how long ago it had really been.
He'd been in the club purely by accident. He'd meant to go to the crystalline waterfalls on the other side of town, to see how they looked at night, when they changed colors. The TARDIS had had other plans, however, and the Doctor had opened the doors to find the thrum of club music radiating out of the building. He could feel it through the soles of his trainers as he strode toward the building. Why had the TARDIS brought him here?
He flashed his psychic paper at the bouncers, without even bothering to see who they thought he was. There must have been something about this place, or the TARDIS wouldn't have taken him here—he'd been careful to set the controls exactly for the waterfalls.
As soon as he'd entered the bar area, he'd known what it was.
Jack was sitting there, toying with a cardboard coaster, looking very out of place in clothing that would have been at home on Earth in the 1940s. The purple and pink strobe lights contrasted greatly with his melancholic mood.
The Doctor hesitated for a moment, before crossing over to Jack and dropping onto the barstool beside him. "Buy you a drink?" he asked, resting his chin on his hands.
They had gone on from there—the Doctor had bought Jack his first drink, and then, some weeks later, the next time they found a bar, pub, watering hole, Jack had bought the Doctor a drink.
This pub, Jack's favorite, with the mirror behind the bar making the collection of liquor look bigger, and the sorry, unused pool table in the center of the room, was the one they came to most often. And as much as the Doctor would have preferred going somewhere else—he liked variety—he knew it made Jack happy. And he liked making Jack happy.
He liked making all his companions happy, of course, but it seemed that, especially lately, he had been particularly invested in making Jack happy. Jack wasn't like the Doctor's other companions—he had none of the wide-eyed wonder with which some of the Doctor's other favorite humans viewed TARDIS travel (though, despite this, Jack did have his moments of surprise).
The Doctor's life had certainly changed since he'd adopted Jack as a traveling companion. The situations they got themselves into were, on average, more dangerous than the places the Doctor would have considered taking Rose, Martha, or Donna. Perhaps this was why they had adopted this... tradition, almost... of taking time to relax. After all, forever was a long time to live without some kind of break.
Jack nodded at the pool table. "Fancy a game?"
The Doctor regarded it with an air of disdain. "You don't want to do that, Jack."
"Oh?" Jack grinned. "Afraid of losing to me."
The Doctor snorted. "Oh, please. I practically invented it. I mean, I was right there, in the billiards room, with Colonel Mustard and that lot." He paused. "Brilliant fellow, that Professor Plum. And Miss Scarlet, well. She was really something."
"Then you won't mind proving your skills." Jack had barely finished speaking before he was on his feet, headed for the center of the room.
The Doctor allowed himself a smirk. "You only wish you could have had the time I've had to master the game."
"I'm older than you," Jack reminded him.
"Technically." The Doctor got to his feet and reached for a cue.
"It's true, though."
The Doctor laughed. "Then show me what you've got, old man," he said, adopting an accent that made Jack grin.
"Oh, you are going down."
The Doctor smiled to himself, as he and Jack took up their positions. Maybe this could be a new thing, a new part of the tradition. He probably didn't mind.
As long as they occasionally went to other places to do it.