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wintercompanion2017-07-25 06:15 pm
wojelah) wrote in wintercompanion2017-07-25 06:15 pm
Entry tags:
mahmfic: Sharing A... Scone (Jack/Twelve) [PG-13] -- SUMMER HOLIDAYS PROMPT 13
Title: Sharing a Sweet Lavender Scone
Author:mahmfic
Prompt: 13 - hatred, eating, formula, Beethoven's "Fur Elise"
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jack/Twelve
Spoilers/warnings: Modern Day au. Bakery au. Pre-slash. Some dialogue lifted from Doctor Who.
A/N: This is part of my Coffee and Cinnamon Rolls series. You don't have to read previous parts to understand this one (I hope), but it may help. And a trillion thanks to the mods. I had a lot of rl issues come up and they were gracious enough to accept this after I turned it in very, very, very, very, very late.
Summary: The Doctor need alone time and was busy trying not dying in his video game. Then Jack Harkness comes to his bakery and steals his scone.
**
They were in the beginning of the usual lull between 9am - 11am. Too late to have breakfast, too early to have lunch-- save a couple of nurses who worked at a nearby clinic and stopped by at promptly 10:15 everyday to get their lunch before returning to work.
Clara was tidying up the shop before everyone came in for the lunch rush: wiping down tables, sweeping the floor, straightening the drinks in the fridge. Danny was doing prep for the lunch menu. The man kept shooting death glares at the Doctor, but that didn't matter. The Doctor wasn't letting it bother him. Besides, it was their they had skipped work the other day. The Doctor felt like he was punishing a couple of school children rather than two twenty-somethings.
He's been holed up in his 'office' since 8. It was really a spare broom cupboard-- a small space, but he'd worked hard to have it seem bigger on the inside. The place he rented for the bakery hadn't come with a dedicated office, but did come with two broom cupboards. Why did he need two broom cupboards for? What he needed was personal space to decompress from… everything. All of the people, their chatter, and mess. Why did he want to open a bakery again?
The Doctor didn't pay any sort of attention to the bell above the door chiming or the heavy boots stomping and coming to a slow halt. He heard Clara's heels click as she rushed to the counter and used her pleasant retail voice that was a tad higher pitched than her normal tone. There was some friendly chatter and the Doctor tuned it out. He returned his focus to his mobile phone's screen.
"Busy," he replied mechanically as he died again.
"Sorry to bother you."
The Doctor shot up his head and surprised to see that leaning against the door frame was none other than Jack Harkness. He blinked. Then blinked again just to make sure. "It's not 6:30. You always come at 6:30. Is your watch wrong?"
Jack shrugged. "I got called into work early and couldn't get out of it until now. Can I come in?"
"Oh, yes. Please do." Internally the Doctor was screaming for Jack to see the chaos that was his office. He was sitting at his mini desk, and there was only one other folding chair in the cupboard beside his own. The place was basically piles and piles and piles of paperwork. The walls were covered with photographs from his travels with some of some of his family and best friend here or there.
He couldn't help but stare at his regular customer as he shuffled his way into the cupboard. Jack was dressed in his usual attire-- long wool coat, buttoned up light blue shirt with a darker dress vest that had a pocket watch holder. Jack's hair was a little wind swept, but somehow it worked well for him
"It's bigger on the inside," Jack commented as he brushed aside a few papers to sit down.
"What?" The Doctor looked at him a bit skeptically.
"It's bigger on the inside," Jack repeated. "Even when I was standing outside it looked tiny and claustrophobic, but sitting here it's actually not that bad."
He grimaced. "Thanks?"
"You're welcome," Jack replied cheerfully. "Are you playing Sonic?"
The Doctor immediately hit the pause button at the right corner of the screen. "Don't know what you're talking about."
"That music is pretty distinctive."
He sighed and turned the screen towards Jack. I'm stuck on this damned level."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "That level one, act one."
"I know," he complained. "It's pitiful."
"Do you want me to help? I haven't played it since the original platform, but I think I remember how to get through the levels."
The Doctor answered with a glare and a firm no.
"Stubborn, aren't you? Me too or so I'm told. We make quite a pair."
"Pair?" The Doctor felt heat rising up his neck and cheeks. "Us?"
"Yeah. Me." He pointed to himself, then to the Doctor. "And you. Are you feeling okay?"
"Of course I am," he lied, finding the pause screen of his game fascinating all if a sudden.
"You're lying. You look away when you are. I noticed it a couple weeks ago when you told that kid that you were out of cupcakes when Clara hadn't set them out yet. I saw them over your shoulder in the kitchen," he filled in before the Doctor could ask. "Broke his tiny fragile heart."
The Doctor thought back for a moment to figure out what Jack was referring to. So many people came in and out that it was hard to keep track. "He was fine. His mum didn't want him to have a cupcake that early anyway. He was very happy with the French toast bagel."
"After he cried and threw a tantrum for five minutes."
"Well clearly his mother never listened to The Rolling Stones."
"Who?"
"The Rolling Stones," the Doctor answered with a duh tone. He furrowed his brow at the blank look on Jack's face. "Mick Jagger? Keith Richards?" Still blank. "Wild Horses? Paint it, black? Angie?" Still blank. "How do you not know the Rolling Stones?"
"I don't listen to modern stuff. It's all bass and autotune. Hurts my ears. I like jazz and big band. It feels more genuine than the crap they put out today."
"I don't like music," the Doctor blurted out. He wanted to kick himself.
Jack pointed to the left corner closest to the open door. "You have an electric guitar."
"Noooooo?"
"That was the most obvious lie in the history of lies, and I have a ten year old brother who tells the most outrageous lies. One time he tried to convince me that a cormorant flew through his bedroom window and stole his homework."
"You have a brother? A ten year old brother? That's a bit of a gap between siblings."
"Yeah, well, Grey was an oops baby. For some reason my parents thought my mom wouldn't be able to get pregnant again because she was in her 40s, but then came my brother." Jack sighed. All of a sudden he was downcast. "I've been taking care of him for a few years since our parents died."
"I'm sorry," sadness filled the Doctor's voice. "I didn't mean to pry."
Jack soothed, "No, you didn't pry. I was the one to bring it up. Funny," he chuckled. "I don't tell that to many people." He cleared his throat and gestured to the small paper plate sitting beside the Doctor's elbow. "What kind of scone is that?"
"Sweet Lavender," he answered promptly. "Trying out a new recipe." Finally he exited the app and put his phone in his jacket pocket. He tore off an end piece and offered it to the man sitting across from him. "Care to be a test subject?"
"Anytime," he replied with a suggestive grin.
A shiver ran up his spine as the Doctor's face reddened. How did Jack do that? He had a talent for taking any word in the English language, and making it sound sexual. How? Just how? The Doctor would be joking with himself if he said it didn't arouse him.
Jack tapped a finger on a doodle pinned over the desk. He covered his mouth to be polite as he inquired, "What's this doodle?"
"Bootstrap Paradox. Causal Loop. It's a time travel theory. In layman's terms, it's about an event causing another event, which triggers yet another event, and that causes an event that started the first event." At seeing Jack's befuddled look, he worked on an example. "Like Beethoven's fifth symphony."
"Beethoven?"
"Yes, hear me out." The Doctor shifted in his chair so he sat closer to Jack. He was excited to talk to someone about this. "Say there's a time traveller who went back in time to meet his hero Beethoven, only to find that he did not exist, prompting him to use his future knowledge to produce the works attributed to Beethoven himself, meaning that the traveller was inspired by himself, and therefore all knowledge and events were self perpetuating and paradoxical. So then who wrote Beethoven's fifth?"
Jack's were wide. He gripped his trousers. He took a deep breath and let it go. "Whew. I have a decent understanding of advanced science, but that went over my head. How do you know so much about it?"
The Doctor finished his bite before explaining. "My first doctorate is in astrophysics."
"Your first doctorate?"
"I have two others in philosophy and biochemistry. I've been going back and forth on of I should get a fourth in linguistics."
"You have a doctorate in astrophysics," Jack deadpanned.
"Yes." The Doctor puffed out his chest. "Top of my class and I've been published in several scientific journals." The Doctor wondered if Jack had been too in shock to count his other degrees.
"But you own a bakery?"
"Is that a problem?"
"No problem, Doctor The Doctor," Jack sassed. "You're a man full of mysteries." His whole demeanor changed in a flash. Jack was sheepish. Hey, I was wonder--"
There was a light knock on the door frame. The Doctor shot their heads up to the source of the noise. Clara was standing there. Her eyes shifted its gaze between him and Jack. "Thought I'd let you know that it's five minutes to 11."
"Well, I won't take up anymore of your time. I have to get back to work anyway." Jack snatched what was little left of scone and popped it in his mouth. "That scone was out of this world. It was so good, I swallowed it whole."
The Doctor sucked in a breath and hoped he looked normal. He nodded in thanks. "Good to know " Did he really just say that?
Jack stood up gingerly, trying his best not to knock the wall with the back of his chair. "I'll see you tomorrow, Doc." He turned his back, but it was still clear to see that Jack winked at Clara. The man peered behind his shoulder and smiled at the Doctor once last time. He stuck his hands deep into his pockets and whistled a tune that was unfamiliar to the Doctor as he walked out of the shop.
Clara bumped her shoulder against his arm as the two of them slid behind the counter. "So what was all that about?"
"Hm?"
"What was that about?" she repeated. "Handsome guy comes striding in here and you two chat in your office for over an hour. He didn't buy any food and didn't make a catering order. You let him call you Doc. You never let anybody give you a nickname. What's the story behind that? Is he your boyfriend? Have you had boyfriends? Do I need to give him a shovel talk?"
The Doctor flushed a deep shade of scarlet like earlier. Was he that obvious? Jack wasn't his boyfriend of course. Personally, the Doctor felt that at fifty-five he was rather old to have romantic entanglements.
"It's none of our business, Clara," Danny interrupted sharply. His voice was more than annoyed. "Leave him alone."
Clara pouted, looking back and forth between her boyfriend and the Doctor. Her shoulders sagged and she heaved a defeated sigh. "Fine." She poked the Doctor's chest multiple times, and he feigned a few ows. "But this isn't over. I'll figure it out."
Luckily she ended it with that because she turned about, rushing to the register, apologizing to the waiting customer.
The Doctor glanced over at his other employee. He wanted to do the proper thing and at least thank Danny, but he knew that the man wouldn't accept any kind words from him. Instead he nodded at Danny when the man looked his way. There was a moment of hesitation, but Danny nodded back and returned to reaching up in the baskets for a variety of bagels the customer was ordering.
The Doctor worked on autopilot for the next couple of hours. He knew this job like the back of his hand, so it easy to slip into his thoughts while making sandwiches and passing Clara disposable coffee cups to hand over to the customers.
How much did Jack mean to him? He liked the man. He was charming, funny, and a great conversationalist. He was very attractive, the Doctor couldn't deny that. Someone would have to be blind not to notice. Jack was turning into a friend at the very least.
A friend. The Doctor didn't have many of those. He smiled to himself as he grabbed a thick piece of lemon pound with tongs and tossed it in a brown paper bag. A friend. Whatever happened (and nothing was going to happen), at least Jack would be his friend.
That was more than enough.
xpost: http://wintercompanion.livejournal.com/265645.html
Author:
mahmficPrompt: 13 - hatred, eating, formula, Beethoven's "Fur Elise"
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jack/Twelve
Spoilers/warnings: Modern Day au. Bakery au. Pre-slash. Some dialogue lifted from Doctor Who.
A/N: This is part of my Coffee and Cinnamon Rolls series. You don't have to read previous parts to understand this one (I hope), but it may help. And a trillion thanks to the mods. I had a lot of rl issues come up and they were gracious enough to accept this after I turned it in very, very, very, very, very late.
Summary: The Doctor need alone time and was busy trying not dying in his video game. Then Jack Harkness comes to his bakery and steals his scone.
**
They were in the beginning of the usual lull between 9am - 11am. Too late to have breakfast, too early to have lunch-- save a couple of nurses who worked at a nearby clinic and stopped by at promptly 10:15 everyday to get their lunch before returning to work.
Clara was tidying up the shop before everyone came in for the lunch rush: wiping down tables, sweeping the floor, straightening the drinks in the fridge. Danny was doing prep for the lunch menu. The man kept shooting death glares at the Doctor, but that didn't matter. The Doctor wasn't letting it bother him. Besides, it was their they had skipped work the other day. The Doctor felt like he was punishing a couple of school children rather than two twenty-somethings.
He's been holed up in his 'office' since 8. It was really a spare broom cupboard-- a small space, but he'd worked hard to have it seem bigger on the inside. The place he rented for the bakery hadn't come with a dedicated office, but did come with two broom cupboards. Why did he need two broom cupboards for? What he needed was personal space to decompress from… everything. All of the people, their chatter, and mess. Why did he want to open a bakery again?
The Doctor didn't pay any sort of attention to the bell above the door chiming or the heavy boots stomping and coming to a slow halt. He heard Clara's heels click as she rushed to the counter and used her pleasant retail voice that was a tad higher pitched than her normal tone. There was some friendly chatter and the Doctor tuned it out. He returned his focus to his mobile phone's screen.
"Busy," he replied mechanically as he died again.
"Sorry to bother you."
The Doctor shot up his head and surprised to see that leaning against the door frame was none other than Jack Harkness. He blinked. Then blinked again just to make sure. "It's not 6:30. You always come at 6:30. Is your watch wrong?"
Jack shrugged. "I got called into work early and couldn't get out of it until now. Can I come in?"
"Oh, yes. Please do." Internally the Doctor was screaming for Jack to see the chaos that was his office. He was sitting at his mini desk, and there was only one other folding chair in the cupboard beside his own. The place was basically piles and piles and piles of paperwork. The walls were covered with photographs from his travels with some of some of his family and best friend here or there.
He couldn't help but stare at his regular customer as he shuffled his way into the cupboard. Jack was dressed in his usual attire-- long wool coat, buttoned up light blue shirt with a darker dress vest that had a pocket watch holder. Jack's hair was a little wind swept, but somehow it worked well for him
"It's bigger on the inside," Jack commented as he brushed aside a few papers to sit down.
"What?" The Doctor looked at him a bit skeptically.
"It's bigger on the inside," Jack repeated. "Even when I was standing outside it looked tiny and claustrophobic, but sitting here it's actually not that bad."
He grimaced. "Thanks?"
"You're welcome," Jack replied cheerfully. "Are you playing Sonic?"
The Doctor immediately hit the pause button at the right corner of the screen. "Don't know what you're talking about."
"That music is pretty distinctive."
He sighed and turned the screen towards Jack. I'm stuck on this damned level."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "That level one, act one."
"I know," he complained. "It's pitiful."
"Do you want me to help? I haven't played it since the original platform, but I think I remember how to get through the levels."
The Doctor answered with a glare and a firm no.
"Stubborn, aren't you? Me too or so I'm told. We make quite a pair."
"Pair?" The Doctor felt heat rising up his neck and cheeks. "Us?"
"Yeah. Me." He pointed to himself, then to the Doctor. "And you. Are you feeling okay?"
"Of course I am," he lied, finding the pause screen of his game fascinating all if a sudden.
"You're lying. You look away when you are. I noticed it a couple weeks ago when you told that kid that you were out of cupcakes when Clara hadn't set them out yet. I saw them over your shoulder in the kitchen," he filled in before the Doctor could ask. "Broke his tiny fragile heart."
The Doctor thought back for a moment to figure out what Jack was referring to. So many people came in and out that it was hard to keep track. "He was fine. His mum didn't want him to have a cupcake that early anyway. He was very happy with the French toast bagel."
"After he cried and threw a tantrum for five minutes."
"Well clearly his mother never listened to The Rolling Stones."
"Who?"
"The Rolling Stones," the Doctor answered with a duh tone. He furrowed his brow at the blank look on Jack's face. "Mick Jagger? Keith Richards?" Still blank. "Wild Horses? Paint it, black? Angie?" Still blank. "How do you not know the Rolling Stones?"
"I don't listen to modern stuff. It's all bass and autotune. Hurts my ears. I like jazz and big band. It feels more genuine than the crap they put out today."
"I don't like music," the Doctor blurted out. He wanted to kick himself.
Jack pointed to the left corner closest to the open door. "You have an electric guitar."
"Noooooo?"
"That was the most obvious lie in the history of lies, and I have a ten year old brother who tells the most outrageous lies. One time he tried to convince me that a cormorant flew through his bedroom window and stole his homework."
"You have a brother? A ten year old brother? That's a bit of a gap between siblings."
"Yeah, well, Grey was an oops baby. For some reason my parents thought my mom wouldn't be able to get pregnant again because she was in her 40s, but then came my brother." Jack sighed. All of a sudden he was downcast. "I've been taking care of him for a few years since our parents died."
"I'm sorry," sadness filled the Doctor's voice. "I didn't mean to pry."
Jack soothed, "No, you didn't pry. I was the one to bring it up. Funny," he chuckled. "I don't tell that to many people." He cleared his throat and gestured to the small paper plate sitting beside the Doctor's elbow. "What kind of scone is that?"
"Sweet Lavender," he answered promptly. "Trying out a new recipe." Finally he exited the app and put his phone in his jacket pocket. He tore off an end piece and offered it to the man sitting across from him. "Care to be a test subject?"
"Anytime," he replied with a suggestive grin.
A shiver ran up his spine as the Doctor's face reddened. How did Jack do that? He had a talent for taking any word in the English language, and making it sound sexual. How? Just how? The Doctor would be joking with himself if he said it didn't arouse him.
Jack tapped a finger on a doodle pinned over the desk. He covered his mouth to be polite as he inquired, "What's this doodle?"
"Bootstrap Paradox. Causal Loop. It's a time travel theory. In layman's terms, it's about an event causing another event, which triggers yet another event, and that causes an event that started the first event." At seeing Jack's befuddled look, he worked on an example. "Like Beethoven's fifth symphony."
"Beethoven?"
"Yes, hear me out." The Doctor shifted in his chair so he sat closer to Jack. He was excited to talk to someone about this. "Say there's a time traveller who went back in time to meet his hero Beethoven, only to find that he did not exist, prompting him to use his future knowledge to produce the works attributed to Beethoven himself, meaning that the traveller was inspired by himself, and therefore all knowledge and events were self perpetuating and paradoxical. So then who wrote Beethoven's fifth?"
Jack's were wide. He gripped his trousers. He took a deep breath and let it go. "Whew. I have a decent understanding of advanced science, but that went over my head. How do you know so much about it?"
The Doctor finished his bite before explaining. "My first doctorate is in astrophysics."
"Your first doctorate?"
"I have two others in philosophy and biochemistry. I've been going back and forth on of I should get a fourth in linguistics."
"You have a doctorate in astrophysics," Jack deadpanned.
"Yes." The Doctor puffed out his chest. "Top of my class and I've been published in several scientific journals." The Doctor wondered if Jack had been too in shock to count his other degrees.
"But you own a bakery?"
"Is that a problem?"
"No problem, Doctor The Doctor," Jack sassed. "You're a man full of mysteries." His whole demeanor changed in a flash. Jack was sheepish. Hey, I was wonder--"
There was a light knock on the door frame. The Doctor shot their heads up to the source of the noise. Clara was standing there. Her eyes shifted its gaze between him and Jack. "Thought I'd let you know that it's five minutes to 11."
"Well, I won't take up anymore of your time. I have to get back to work anyway." Jack snatched what was little left of scone and popped it in his mouth. "That scone was out of this world. It was so good, I swallowed it whole."
The Doctor sucked in a breath and hoped he looked normal. He nodded in thanks. "Good to know " Did he really just say that?
Jack stood up gingerly, trying his best not to knock the wall with the back of his chair. "I'll see you tomorrow, Doc." He turned his back, but it was still clear to see that Jack winked at Clara. The man peered behind his shoulder and smiled at the Doctor once last time. He stuck his hands deep into his pockets and whistled a tune that was unfamiliar to the Doctor as he walked out of the shop.
Clara bumped her shoulder against his arm as the two of them slid behind the counter. "So what was all that about?"
"Hm?"
"What was that about?" she repeated. "Handsome guy comes striding in here and you two chat in your office for over an hour. He didn't buy any food and didn't make a catering order. You let him call you Doc. You never let anybody give you a nickname. What's the story behind that? Is he your boyfriend? Have you had boyfriends? Do I need to give him a shovel talk?"
The Doctor flushed a deep shade of scarlet like earlier. Was he that obvious? Jack wasn't his boyfriend of course. Personally, the Doctor felt that at fifty-five he was rather old to have romantic entanglements.
"It's none of our business, Clara," Danny interrupted sharply. His voice was more than annoyed. "Leave him alone."
Clara pouted, looking back and forth between her boyfriend and the Doctor. Her shoulders sagged and she heaved a defeated sigh. "Fine." She poked the Doctor's chest multiple times, and he feigned a few ows. "But this isn't over. I'll figure it out."
Luckily she ended it with that because she turned about, rushing to the register, apologizing to the waiting customer.
The Doctor glanced over at his other employee. He wanted to do the proper thing and at least thank Danny, but he knew that the man wouldn't accept any kind words from him. Instead he nodded at Danny when the man looked his way. There was a moment of hesitation, but Danny nodded back and returned to reaching up in the baskets for a variety of bagels the customer was ordering.
The Doctor worked on autopilot for the next couple of hours. He knew this job like the back of his hand, so it easy to slip into his thoughts while making sandwiches and passing Clara disposable coffee cups to hand over to the customers.
How much did Jack mean to him? He liked the man. He was charming, funny, and a great conversationalist. He was very attractive, the Doctor couldn't deny that. Someone would have to be blind not to notice. Jack was turning into a friend at the very least.
A friend. The Doctor didn't have many of those. He smiled to himself as he grabbed a thick piece of lemon pound with tongs and tossed it in a brown paper bag. A friend. Whatever happened (and nothing was going to happen), at least Jack would be his friend.
That was more than enough.
xpost: http://wintercompanion.livejournal.com/265645.html