Title: Dancing at Dawn
By: Rose G
Pairing: Doctor/Jack
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All characters, settings are the property of BBC TV; I am making no profit from their use
Summary: This is not how Jack imagined the Doctor getting his hands on him. Nor did he imagine that there was anyone, on any planet, who could wind him up to that degree.

***

Raining - check. Sore head, marks from handcuffs and a good kicking - check. Stuck on a stupid, backwards, ape-inhabited planet - check. No, that was the Doctor's thoughts, not his; technically, this was home turf.

Sometimes, Jack really hated America. No, make that Earth in general, or any other useless planet where the natives weren't particularly friendly. Although that'd be most of the ones he'd visited lately. Damn, that was someone at the door, letting themselves into the main control room. Not ideal; he really wanted to be on his own for now.

Not that he was doing anything beyond leaning against the railings and wishing the world didn't hurt quite so much. Sickbay was somewhere around, he knew, but there was no way he was moving at the moment. Getting here had been quite unpleasant enough

'Jack? What's wrong with my ship?'

A deep groan of pain and exasperation that brought the Doctor hurrying over to him but stopping on the way to check the control panels. Nice to know where he ranked.

'What's wrong? You hurt?'

He turned to look at the Doctor, wishing he hadn't as the world lurched. That must have been some blow to the head. No, hang on, the Doctor was staring intently at him, blue eyes catching the light, and that normally made him feel unbalanced anyway. Mind, his head bloody well did hurt.

'Oh.' Hell, what did he have to do to get a reaction from that man? Even having a black eye and bruises didn't do the trick.

'Can you walk? Sickbay's pretty close.' No anger or blind panic, just treating this like it was an everyday occurrence. As for sympathy...

'I got back here, run it. Jus' getting my breath. Can walk.' Alright, he'd lost a fight. No need to lose the rest of his dignity by having the Doctor think he couldn't manage by himself. The Time Lord already had a tendency to think that Jack Harkness wasn't safe to be let out unsupervised.

A deep breath, a few steps, and a painful reminder that his legs had caught a fair few of the blows as his knee buckled. Falling over wasn't an option with the Doctor there, so he flailed around trying to stay upright, and ended up grasping the Doctor's arm.

'You drunk?'

'No! No, I'm not.' Sounded almost as indignant as he felt - and a bit like he was going to pass out from the pain, which maybe wasn't too unlikely.

'Okay, then. TARDIS rule is to let hangovers treat themselves, but...' He brushed Jack's hand away, then slid his arm round his waist, taking most of his weight. 'That better?'

Immensely. Trying to balance walking with not blushing or staring or anything else that might just give him the impression that Jack was enjoying this would have been hard even if his head wasn't spinning. The Doctor's hand was resting on his hip. Had to be accidental, especially the way his luck was going tonight. 'Yes.'

'You gonna tell me what happened?'

'There was a girl...'

'I see.'

Typical, it looked like he'd already guessed the rest of the story. 'She was sitting there on her own, and she looked a right stunner - didn't know she was waiting for anyone, so...Wandered over, got chatting with her. There was a lot of people sort of drifting towards us. Her mates, only I thought they were all dressed up a bit fancy. And then...'

The Doctor rolled his eyes. 'Save it for later, Flyboy. Come in here.'

Jack peered around. Infirmaries were generally places to avoid like they were other Time Agents, Tula officials - or jealous men comes to that - but it sure as hell beat spending the night in the cells, which was what he'd been prepared for. Plus, there was a seat, so he could collapse down and sort of hope that it was his eyes blurring and not the TARDIS swaying from side to side. Downside, he had to let go of the Doctor, who was already prodding at various buttons and machine readouts.

'Jack?'

'Wha-aarghh!' He flinched away, half scrambling to his feet.

'Hey, leave it a minute.' He caught Jack's right hand, prevented him from touching the needle and syringe in the veins of his left. 'Painkiller, don't worry. Won't hurt you, long as you stop fussing over it. Look, you tore the skin.'

Wait to get his breath; he'd believed, for a second, that he was dying there. Then laugh, shakily, as he realised it had stopped hurting.

'Better?'

'Thanks.' Trust him to freak out in front of the Doctor over something as minor as an injection, and standing up hadn't been the best idea. No pain didn't mean that his legs were working.

Very gently and firmly, the Doctor pushed his shoulders until he was sitting down again. 'Take your shirt off.'

Definite bang on the head territory, there. No way had he heard that right, so he settled for looking confused.

'TARDIS thinks you've got a couple of broken ribs. If you get that shirt off, I can strap them up a bit. Won't hurt, trust me.'

Well, if he was insisting. And he was right - getting his top over his head was nearly impossible, but the strapping didn't hurt. Right, mind off the fact that the Doctor's hands were all over his bare chest. Anything else, anything...Like not to wear skin-fit jeans in this sort of situation, ever again.

'Alright, Flyboy. You said there was an 'and then'?'

Listening to that accent wasn't much better than staring up at him. Not really. 'Yes.'

'Tell, tell.'

'This bloke come over, got hold of my shoulder - asked if I knew that was his new wife I was chatting up. I said I didn't, and, and - a bit more - and he swung at me, so I went back. Anyways...all those fancy dressed lot I told you about, turned out to be the guests...that was the reception, and she'd been waiting for them to bring her meal over...'

'Trust you to find trouble. Ever thought of sticking with one girl or something?'

That wasn't worthy of an answer, a comment - or feeling like dying of embarrassment.

'Take that as a no. So, what next?'

'Mass brawl. Mass brawl plus, once the cops turned up and started bashing people. One of them managed to get a cuff on me - they were trying to nick everyone.'

'I wasn't going to comment on that lot of bruises...So you, on your own, managed to cause all that aggro?'

Talk about being blamed for everything. 'No, actually, it turned out there were two groups in the family, and they were quite happy to use me as an excuse to batter the crap outta everyone. All I did was run away, and persuade the TARDIS to let me in.'

The Doctor laughed warmly. 'So, you're also the route cause of all those bootprints and scuffmarks on my front doors? There's a paint can around somewhere, once you're fit. And try to think a bit more next time.'

You're the one that hinders my thought process half the time. Nice, safe conversational topic time. 'Where's Rose?'

'Wandering around Fifth Avenue with whatever you left on that psychic credit card.'

'You think she'll be safe?'

'She isn't the one who nearly got lynched for hitting on random strangers. She'll be fine. Freedom to fly and all that, on her own...That's done.'

In which case, it had been done a few minutes back, and he'd just stood there with his hands resting on Jack's ribs. Making sure it was set, perhaps.

'Anything else hurt?'

'Don't think so.' His pride maybe, his nerve, a bit. Nothing worth complaining about and loosing whatever face he had left.

'Good. Look, you want a drink? Have a drink and a kip; TARDIS is pretty good at patching up people when they're asleep.'

Great. Sleep. Sat here half-naked, next to an impossibly handsome man who'd just been running his hands over his bare chest; yeah, he really felt like sleeping. 'Okay.' At least the drink sounded good.

Bit of an effort to get up without disturbing the dressing, and then the leg gave way again. No flash of agony this time, just weakness and a complete loss of control or balance, so that he stumbled into the Doctor. Arm round the waist time again. 'What just happened?' His voice sounded different to what it normally did.

The Doctor frowned. 'Sorry. That stuff's just a painkiller, not a cure. Stops most of the pain, but whatever happened to your leg isn't fixed. Have to rest for a bit.' He gave the American a sideways glance. 'Quickest thing I could do to stop it hurting. Guess I shoulda warned you.'

'It's okay.' Like he'd find a reason to complain too hard about this nice slow walk. Good job Rose wasn't around, actually.

Hmm, main control room. Not a bad place to settle down for the evening; maybe not top of his list though. No, stop thinking like that right now - the Gallifreyan might not be telepathic, but his ship was. Not that Jack would find that too embarrassing, but he wasn't sure about his companion.

'This do ya?'

Vodka, the brand he normally drunk. Was it the man or the ship that had cared enough to remember his preferences? Although he used it to help him forget, and he was starting to feel that he'd be wanting to remember tonight. Maybe.

'Cheers!'

'Cheers!' The Doctor muttered a few words in a language that didn't translate, inclined his head to Jack.

'What was that?'

'Gallifreyan. Old toast. Forget it til then.'

Night to remember, alright. The Doctor was blushing. Never seen that before, although he'd tried to provoke it a few times. 'Well, come on, why didn't it translate?'

'Because - because I didn't want it to.'

As if he couldn't regonise a chat-up line, whatever language it was in; he'd used most of them himself. 'And why didn't you?' Hell, if he couldn't get Jack's thoughts from his tone of voice, then he was going to resort to something a bit more obvious. Something like GBH, or just taking direct action.

'No reason. You want another drink?'

He surely hadn't finished that already, had he? No, hardly touched it. 'Look, Doctor, you don't have to get me drunk.'

'Why should I be?'

Not the slightest change of expression, half smile or anything. Just a considering look, as if the Doctor was genuinely unsure about Jack's meaning. It felt like watching a masterclass in playing hard to get. Having said that, for a night that had started out with him loosing a fight and then running for his life through New York, it wasn't turning out bad.

'Nevermind.' Maybe the Time Lords had gone about this a bit differently, although he'd never yet found anyone who was totally immune to his charms. It would be the Doctor, wouldn't it, who broke all his long held assumptions about all this.

'No, I'm intrigued. Explain why I should be trying to get you drunk.'

Damn it, there was no way that the Doctor didn't know what he was talking about. Just no way anyone could reach the age of 900, travel all through space and time, and still be totally innocent of the idea of getting someone drunk to get them into bed. No way. But he wasn't going to explain it to him, either.

'Hey, you feeling alright?'

Great, fantastic in fact - even the broken ribs weren't hurting. Must be the combination of the painkiller, the vodka and this. He couldn't think of anything much better. 'Why?'

'You've gone all red.'

Bloody, bloody man. Of course he was; the Doctor was not only solely responsible for that but probably knew he was as well. Well, let him be like that, then. Find out later how innocent he was or wasn't.

'Gone very quiet, Jack. You okay?' Accompanied with a smirk that was about the same as the one that had sparked that mass brawl earlier. His hand was cold on Jack's face, his pulse slow even with that odd double rhythm, but the touch was more caring than passionate. 'Talk to me.'

Talking was about the furthest thing from his mind right now. Was he getting chatted up or not? That vodka must be stronger than he remembered or maybe it reacted badly with the painkiller or something. One, if Jack Harkness got into these situations, he was the one doing the chasing. Two, even if he wasn't, he definitely didn't go red and pause, then lay his hand softly over the Doctor's. That wasn't his style.

'Oh.' He laughed. 'Was that what you was going on about? What a waste of time, getting you in the mood. No-one'd ever have to pour that much alcohol down you.'

Fair enough comment, that one.

'Just leave it, Jack, else I'll be thinking that you got hit on the head worse than I thought.'

What the bloody hell was that supposed to mean? He moved his hand unwillingly, caught his eye. 'Will you stop winding me up?'

'You're the one with the overactive imagination, Jack - you're winding yourself up.'

Okay, he was going to have to come out and say it. He'd never meet anyone who could embarrass him quite this much. 'Do you like me?'

'Course.'

One for him, there. That was about the quickest response to that question he'd ever got.

'Else I would have dumped you out on the first inhabited planet we come to after the TARDIS decided to pick you up. I like all my companions.'

This was past playing hard to get, into making himself untouchable territory at least. 'Would...would you dance with me?' Good a start as any, there.

'I don't dance - often.' The Doctor laughed at his expression. 'C'mon, Jack. Stop thinking that you're irresistible.'

No-one, except maybe a conman like himself, would let anything compete under a handicap like the Doctor's smile. It was totally unfair. 'No, you come on. You've been flirting with me all night, haven't you? Just make your mind up.'

'Flirting? I give you a drink, and it's flirting?'

Maybe not, but the look on his face now couldn't be seen as anything else. 'Yes.'

'No.' The Doctor got up and walked round to Jack. 'You're not well, you're not thinking straight, and I should have got Rose to patch you up, though I guess you'd have done the same to her. Mind, in exchange for the entertainment of the past few hours -'

He leant forward and kissed Jack on the lips. 'And that's it, Flyboy...Go get your head down...'

Worth waiting for, maybe. Been a while since he'd got kissed like that; been about as long since anyone had wound him up quite that badly. 'Aaah, now, c'mon, I'm the one that got beat up...Need some TLC.'

'You need to stop flirting with newly married women, nothing else.'

'What if I offered to repaint the TARDIS front doors, then? Don't ask very high rates.'

A head shake, but still that warm grin. 'Like I'd let you loose on my ship...Still, if you don't get yourself killed in the next few days and rest up, then...I might come and tell you a bedtime story or something. Now go.'

There wasn't much he could say in response to that joky promise, except a smile and a hug that was nothing more than friendship. And bad knee not withstanding, he found he was more than able to get to his room, even if he was alone. He guessed it was only temporary now.

***