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wintercompanion2016-07-21 06:39 pm
trobadora) wrote in wintercompanion2016-07-21 06:39 pm
Entry tags:
mahmfic: Coffee and Cinnamon Rolls (Twelve/Jack) [PG-13] - SUMMER HOLIDAYS PROMPT #11
Title: Coffee and Cinnamon Rolls
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mahmfic
Prompt: #11 - 19 lunar years, Astroc, baker, dancing
Pairing: 12th Doctor/Jack Harkness
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/warnings: Bakery/Coffee shop!AU. Modern Setting!AU.
Summary: Ever seen the Doctor left Missy's bakery to start one of his own, things has gone to shit. He has two employees, neither of whom bothered to show up for work. And there's a man knocking on his knock when the sign clearly says they are closed.
Clara was late. Very late. And so was Danny. It didn't take a genius to figure out why his only two employees were skipping their shift. The two employees who were in a relationship. It just left it him in one hell of a lurch. And he did not, was not phoning Missy to help him out. Hell no. She'd come by, sweeping majestically through his shop, and proclaiming loudly so that everyone within a mile radius could hear that he was no good at running a shop on his own and how he ought to come back to hers across town.
No. Missy wasn't an option.
The Doctor dialed Clara's number again and waited impatiently as it rang and rang and rang. Finally the robotic voice took over letting him know he was being forwarded to Clara's voicemail system. Frustrated, he punched the end call button on his mobile phone a little harder than he meant. Damn Clara. Damn Danny for corrupting her.
He glanced over at the clock. Five minutes 'til open. He supposed he could chuck the day in the bin and write up a simple 'closed for the day' sign and post it to the door. But that wasn't exactly an option. The Doctor needed to stay open and keep the bakery afloat. If he didn't want the business could go under. He needed this bakery to work.
Grumbling to himself, he finished putting out all of the hot, fresh out of the oven muffins on display, not bothering making them look nice and appealing to the eye like Clara would have done. (Damn Clara). The scones, a few simple donuts, lemon pound cakes, granola bars, and croissants were already out. The oven would ding in a minute indicating that the cinnamon rolls were about to be done and then he'd have to glaze them.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, why did he ever think having a bakery was a good idea?
There was a slight rapping on the glass door and the Doctor spun around. Standing there was a man with dark hair and a big smile. He waved and mouthed something that the Doctor could not make out. He strode over the door, unlatching the lock and opening it a crack. "We're not open. Can't you see the closed sign?"
The dark haired man's smile didn't falter. "It's past 6:30. The sign says your shop opens at 6:30 and it's…" he flicked his wrist revealing his wrist watch. "6:35."
As if he didn't believe this stranger, the Doctor looked back at the wall clock. Damn. The man was right. And his cinnamon rolls still weren't done, and Clara hadn't shown up nor Danny. Damnit. He waited for a beat for the hand on the clock to change before facing the stranger again. "6:36, actually. Your watch must be slow."
"Sooooo can I come in?"
The Doctor scowled, upset that the man didn't get the hint. "Fine," he opened the door all the way and flipped the closed sign to open.
He went about what he had been doing before the guy interrupted him from his tasks. He went to the freezer, taking out a crate of strawberry milk and a crate of cranberry juice and began filling up the fridge in the common area with it.
"Can I have a coffee?"
The Doctor sighed rather loudly and glared at the man who stood at the register, patiently waiting.
"It's all self-serve. We don't have anything fancy. Cappuccinos or Americanos and the like."
"Does that mean it's free?"
The Doctor suppressed a groan as he stood up. He knees ached more than they should. Maybe it from the marathon he ran two days ago? Yes that'd be it. Nothing about getting old at all. As he walked around to the other side of the counter he asked, "Just one coffee?"
"Just one." The man held a single finger up.
"What size?"
"Bigger the better," the man winked.
The Doctor ground his teeth together. "Anything else?"
The man glanced over at the pastry display while humming. "How about… a blueberry maple scone-- no wait, is that coffee cake?"
"Er, yes."
"That's awesome. I haven't had one in years. I'll take a couple slices of coffee cake."
The Doctor raised an eyebrow as he punched the order into the digital register. "Isn't it a bit early for sweets?" he commented after telling the man his total, asking if he wanted to pay cash or charge.
"Credit. You only live once, right?" he smiled and signed his name in a flourish with his index finger on the screen.
The Doctor did not respond or even bother asking the guy wanted his receipt, but handed the customer his empty coffee container and a paper bag of the two coffee cake slices. Then he went back to filling the refrigerator of strawberry milk and cranberry juice. He kept looking at the customer out of the corner of his eyes. There wasn't anything too unusual about him. He whistled as he got his coffee, hands jammed into the pockets of his greatcoat and dancing to the tune he was whistling. The guy dressed a bit old-fashioned to be honest, and this was coming from someone in their fifties.
"Hey," the guy called out as he poured some sugar into his coffee. "Where does the name of this place come from? It's rather exotic."
The Doctor pressed his lips together and exhaled through his nose. He really hated telling this story. He should never had named his bakery this. He should have called it something plain like Cheap Coffee and Baked Goods. "It's my mum's name."
The customer gave him a double take. "Your mother's name was Astroc?"
"Ah, yes. Exotic names run in my family."
"Oh yeah?" The guy had finished up preparing his coffee and gave it a tentative sip. "What's your name then?"
He gave him one hell of a dirty look. "The Doctor."
The guy hummed, chewing name over. "Doctor, I like it. Thanks for the coffee Doc. Best I've had in ages. I'll definitely be back later." The man gave him a legit military salute and walked about of the bakery.
Military then, the Doctor thought. The guy didn't look very military. No, not at all. But he could tell that hadn't been someone faking a salute. That was someone who had saluted hundreds if not thousands of times in the past with persition. The Doctor peered down at the printed out receipt searching for a name. In the neatest cursive he'd ever seen the signature read: Cpt Jack Harkness.
The Doctor scoffed. What kind of a pounce went around writing their title on--
He jumped a mile high when the sound of a tingling buzzer rang in the back of his kitchen. He dropped the receipt, forgetting all about Captain Jack Harkness. His cinnamon rolls were done.
Author:
mahmficPrompt: #11 - 19 lunar years, Astroc, baker, dancing
Pairing: 12th Doctor/Jack Harkness
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/warnings: Bakery/Coffee shop!AU. Modern Setting!AU.
Summary: Ever seen the Doctor left Missy's bakery to start one of his own, things has gone to shit. He has two employees, neither of whom bothered to show up for work. And there's a man knocking on his knock when the sign clearly says they are closed.
Clara was late. Very late. And so was Danny. It didn't take a genius to figure out why his only two employees were skipping their shift. The two employees who were in a relationship. It just left it him in one hell of a lurch. And he did not, was not phoning Missy to help him out. Hell no. She'd come by, sweeping majestically through his shop, and proclaiming loudly so that everyone within a mile radius could hear that he was no good at running a shop on his own and how he ought to come back to hers across town.
No. Missy wasn't an option.
The Doctor dialed Clara's number again and waited impatiently as it rang and rang and rang. Finally the robotic voice took over letting him know he was being forwarded to Clara's voicemail system. Frustrated, he punched the end call button on his mobile phone a little harder than he meant. Damn Clara. Damn Danny for corrupting her.
He glanced over at the clock. Five minutes 'til open. He supposed he could chuck the day in the bin and write up a simple 'closed for the day' sign and post it to the door. But that wasn't exactly an option. The Doctor needed to stay open and keep the bakery afloat. If he didn't want the business could go under. He needed this bakery to work.
Grumbling to himself, he finished putting out all of the hot, fresh out of the oven muffins on display, not bothering making them look nice and appealing to the eye like Clara would have done. (Damn Clara). The scones, a few simple donuts, lemon pound cakes, granola bars, and croissants were already out. The oven would ding in a minute indicating that the cinnamon rolls were about to be done and then he'd have to glaze them.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, why did he ever think having a bakery was a good idea?
There was a slight rapping on the glass door and the Doctor spun around. Standing there was a man with dark hair and a big smile. He waved and mouthed something that the Doctor could not make out. He strode over the door, unlatching the lock and opening it a crack. "We're not open. Can't you see the closed sign?"
The dark haired man's smile didn't falter. "It's past 6:30. The sign says your shop opens at 6:30 and it's…" he flicked his wrist revealing his wrist watch. "6:35."
As if he didn't believe this stranger, the Doctor looked back at the wall clock. Damn. The man was right. And his cinnamon rolls still weren't done, and Clara hadn't shown up nor Danny. Damnit. He waited for a beat for the hand on the clock to change before facing the stranger again. "6:36, actually. Your watch must be slow."
"Sooooo can I come in?"
The Doctor scowled, upset that the man didn't get the hint. "Fine," he opened the door all the way and flipped the closed sign to open.
He went about what he had been doing before the guy interrupted him from his tasks. He went to the freezer, taking out a crate of strawberry milk and a crate of cranberry juice and began filling up the fridge in the common area with it.
"Can I have a coffee?"
The Doctor sighed rather loudly and glared at the man who stood at the register, patiently waiting.
"It's all self-serve. We don't have anything fancy. Cappuccinos or Americanos and the like."
"Does that mean it's free?"
The Doctor suppressed a groan as he stood up. He knees ached more than they should. Maybe it from the marathon he ran two days ago? Yes that'd be it. Nothing about getting old at all. As he walked around to the other side of the counter he asked, "Just one coffee?"
"Just one." The man held a single finger up.
"What size?"
"Bigger the better," the man winked.
The Doctor ground his teeth together. "Anything else?"
The man glanced over at the pastry display while humming. "How about… a blueberry maple scone-- no wait, is that coffee cake?"
"Er, yes."
"That's awesome. I haven't had one in years. I'll take a couple slices of coffee cake."
The Doctor raised an eyebrow as he punched the order into the digital register. "Isn't it a bit early for sweets?" he commented after telling the man his total, asking if he wanted to pay cash or charge.
"Credit. You only live once, right?" he smiled and signed his name in a flourish with his index finger on the screen.
The Doctor did not respond or even bother asking the guy wanted his receipt, but handed the customer his empty coffee container and a paper bag of the two coffee cake slices. Then he went back to filling the refrigerator of strawberry milk and cranberry juice. He kept looking at the customer out of the corner of his eyes. There wasn't anything too unusual about him. He whistled as he got his coffee, hands jammed into the pockets of his greatcoat and dancing to the tune he was whistling. The guy dressed a bit old-fashioned to be honest, and this was coming from someone in their fifties.
"Hey," the guy called out as he poured some sugar into his coffee. "Where does the name of this place come from? It's rather exotic."
The Doctor pressed his lips together and exhaled through his nose. He really hated telling this story. He should never had named his bakery this. He should have called it something plain like Cheap Coffee and Baked Goods. "It's my mum's name."
The customer gave him a double take. "Your mother's name was Astroc?"
"Ah, yes. Exotic names run in my family."
"Oh yeah?" The guy had finished up preparing his coffee and gave it a tentative sip. "What's your name then?"
He gave him one hell of a dirty look. "The Doctor."
The guy hummed, chewing name over. "Doctor, I like it. Thanks for the coffee Doc. Best I've had in ages. I'll definitely be back later." The man gave him a legit military salute and walked about of the bakery.
Military then, the Doctor thought. The guy didn't look very military. No, not at all. But he could tell that hadn't been someone faking a salute. That was someone who had saluted hundreds if not thousands of times in the past with persition. The Doctor peered down at the printed out receipt searching for a name. In the neatest cursive he'd ever seen the signature read: Cpt Jack Harkness.
The Doctor scoffed. What kind of a pounce went around writing their title on--
He jumped a mile high when the sound of a tingling buzzer rang in the back of his kitchen. He dropped the receipt, forgetting all about Captain Jack Harkness. His cinnamon rolls were done.