Chapter Text
Sometimes, there was no way to win. The Doctor hated those days. Today was one of those days. He had failed. He had failed and there was nobody else. Nobody else in all of time and space he could tell. He'd lost Rory. And Amy was okay. She was all happy, in fact. It pained him so, knowing that she would be devastated if only she could remember.
So he took the guilt on himself. He was the one who could remember, but he was also the one who had made all the mistakes. He was the one who had dragged Rory along. Granted, it had seemed like a good idea at the time, as he'd been trying to get Amy to stop hitting on him. But he could have handled that differently. He could have talked to her about it, but he couldn't stop running. It's his biggest strength, but also a great weakness, that. Running.
It was his fault that Amy didn't remember him. He could have done it. Martha had remembered after the timestorm, and she hadn't had any prompting. Not everyone who had been stewing in the centre of the paradox had remembered, and she'd done it all on her own. Not that Amy wasn't amazing. She had helped him so many times in the past. But he should have been prepared. He had known what would happen if someone got close to the cracks in the universe. He should have prepared his passengers better.
And worst of all, it seemed like his TARDIS was going to be destroyed. He'd pulled a piece of it from the crack that should not be, that was following him around like a lost puppy. Except not cute. Puppies are adorable. Still, the cracks are the least of his worries. He's investigating them. No, he's worried for his TARDIS. She didn't like when he brought the sliver inside with him. It was just a small bit of her hull, and most of the time energy had gone from it, but he still had fought with her for days, trying to reassure her it was harmless. She was still mad at him, but they'd come to an understanding. She wasn't misbehaving anymore.
It was times like these when he felt his full centuries-long life. He'd already been old when he'd locked the timelords away. Plenty of time had passed since then, but he hadn't stopped running. He was afraid he was running out of places to run to. He sighed and let the TARDIS drift through time. She was always much happier when he didn't tether her to any spot, so he refrained from doing so. He stroked her panels lovingly as he went off, wandering through the corridors until he found one of the rooms he alone could find. It was a room full of windows looking out into the vortex. He watches the patterns swirling and concentrates on feeling the same patterns that his biology has developed to respond to. He sits, lost in the vortex for hours.
They pass a snag. He jolts upright. Things that should not be. He knows this snag. He doesn't usually admit it, but he's like the TARDIS in that he prefers his time to be ever-changing. He doesn't like snags. Except he's spent a lot of time with Earth literature to understand that sometimes what he sees as a snag, they see as something they can always rely on. Maybe that's exactly what he needs. He treks back to the control room. He's in no rush, but the corridors rearrange so he doesn't have to go as far as it took him to get to the vortex room in the first place.
It's not easy, doing something. It's easier to run away. But maybe he can trick himself into believing that running away can also be running towards someone. He navigates the TARDIS around the snag, following it like it's a lifeline in a storm, even though he knows he doesn't need to. It's a way to feel like he's running. It's a way to give himself more time to change his mind. He sighs and throws her into gear, leaping the rest of the distance. He parks her in an alley and takes a walk.
The lights aren't on in Jack's flat, so he keeps going. Sure enough, a few blocks later, and he sees that gorgeous coat coming at him. They meet eyes and keep approaching each other, neither of them speaking. They get close enough to shake hands and they stop.
******
Jack is having a marvelous night. He likes it around here. It's a little cool, but it's a nice, quiet place to think. When he's not picking up someone random for a fling. Partying is healthy, sometimes. But not tonight. Tonight, he's out for a walk in the beautiful weather they're having. The moon hangs high in the sky, bright and clear and beautiful. It's a good walk, and it only gets better as he spots the man in the distance, looking old and worn. That was quite a shame: someone who looks so young shouldn't be burdened with a look of such age. At least, that's what Ianto told him when events wore on him. At the time, he'd not fully understood what the man had meant, brushing it off. But he understood now, looking at the Doctor.
Neither of them said anything. He wanted to let the Doctor speak first. But it was clear as they stared into each other's eyes that that wasn't going to happen tonight. He looked as if he needed a reprieve from what was weighing him down. Well, Jack could provide that.
"It's nice to see you again, John," he ventures, letting him know that they can play this out again. "Back for a repeat?"
The Doctor smiles. He's so relieved that Jack understands. "It's been a rough week at the university, Jack. You said I could come to you if I needed a break."
Jack beams back at him. "Of course, John." He throws an arm around him and starts walking them back to his flat. "I'm glad you came to see me again. It's not good to study so hard, you know. History will always be there for you afterwards when you need to take a break.
"I suppose so," John replies, falling comfortably in beside him as they walk back in silence. It was good to have a heavy arm wrapped around him. It was comforting that they understood each other without the need for words.
They get back to the flat and go directly into the bedroom. Jack pushes John onto the bed. "Stay." He starts stripping. It's not sexy in the way you'd expect a strip tease to (try to) be; instead it's sensual and plain. Not the most efficient disrobing, but not overly showy.
When Jack is naked, he moves towards John. The man looks as if he might protest, but Jack gets down and puts a finger to his lips. "Let me take care of you." John nods, and Jack starts undressing him. He takes his time. He kisses every inch of his skin as it's bared. He worships him head to toe, treating his body with reverence and care. It's a slow build, but it's worth it.
By the time Jack pulls off John's underwear, they're both hard and breathing shallowly, hot desire all over. Jack nuzzles the hard cock in front of him before starting to worship it with the same care and reverence as he paid to the rest of his body. After he's sure he's kissed and licked every surface of it, he moves down, kissing, licking, fondling his balls. The little noises he makes as he works are precious. He loves the patterns in the skin under his tongue.
He moves down farther, tonguing at the pretty little ring of muscle before him. John moans wantonly when that happens. Jack feels vindicated. His work has not gone to waste. He pulls back to find lube and John whimpers with the loss. When he has it, Jack goes back over to John and embraces him for a moment. "I'm going to make you feel so good." The man in his arms jerks and moans in excitement. "Please, please Jack."
Jack smiles happily and lubes him up slowly, working him open slowly. He slowly takes the man below him apart. Finally, finally, he's opened him up enough. Slowly, slowly he enters him, giving him time to adjust at every point. When he's finally seated deep, he starts moving. It's slow and it's sweet, and the man below him is gripping the sheets with white knuckles.
He reaches down between them and starts stroking John's cock in the same, slow rhythm. "It's okay John, you can come apart for me." His voice is so deep and husky. The sweetness running between them is almost too much to bear. Jack wants to slow down even further to make the pleasure last, even as his body is bidding he speed up and come to a climax right now.
But the slow pleasure will have the same effect. It's too much for John and he cries out wordlessly as his cock explodes, splattering between the two of them. Jack goes quickly after that, hurrying to his own climax, sweet and tight inside John.
He pads to the bathroom for a washcloth. John whimpers beneath him as he delicately cleans them both off. Afterwards, he crawls back to bed. John clings to him tight, and Jack holds him close, understanding the need to just be next to someone who will care for you. They fall asleep entangled.
The Doctor wakes feeling completely at peace. He's still tucked away in Jack's strong arms. He knows he'll have to leave them eventually, but he's no longer overwhelmed. Even though he's a timelord, doesn't mean he can fix everything. He does the best he can. And he has to take care of himself. And when he's having trouble doing that, he can always come back here. Maybe a permanent strand in time can be a homing beacon, rather than a snag, comfort when he needs it. He has no doubt that he'll need it again.