So... this happened. You can thank these two for not letting me work on all the other WIPs.
"Stupid, boring, repressed little planet," grumbled the man who walked away from the back alley dust-up. He found himself bouncing between enjoying the grit and rawness of the sex here and being thoroughly revolted by public reactions to it. It was an easy fix. All he had to do was leave. But it was a bit like watching a galactic cruiser running out of fuel and getting sucked into a nearby black hole. You just couldn't look away.
Only Jack would find this place 'special', John decided. Though, he had his suspicions that given a functioning wrist-strap, the former Time Agent currently known as Jack Harkness would ditch this local cluster backwater faster than you could say hypervodka. Except that he'd have to bring along his Eyecandy, of course. Jack always fancied the broken ones he reckoned himself good enough to 'fix'. And always dumped 'em when he realized he couldn't. Well, once was enough for John Hart to call a pattern, anyway.
John shook his head in disgust and didn't bother dusting off his jacket as he trudged down the street, looking for some other bar to get laid in/knock over. There was a nightclub down the way, he could hear the 'music' pumping out of it. He flipped up the cover on his strap and decided to fuck with the sound system for a bit before making his entrance. Approaching the green-glowing warehouse, he couldn't help but think of that club on the Anteres-11 station that he and 'Jack' had busted up for its drug-ring – then fucked one another raw on the bar. The good old days….
As John strode into the club (after snogging the doorman and leaving him in need of a cigarette), he couldn't help admiring his handiwork. The young, scantily-clad patrons seemed a bit put out with the format change from rave to vintage glam rock. He glanced around, planning his next move, when his attention was pulled up to the catwalk balcony. The tall, broad-shouldered figure in a suit definitely didn't match the rest of the scenery. John decided to investigate the anomaly a little closer and made his way up.
He was glad he kept to the shadows to observe, because when the man turned, John nearly missed his step and stumbled. What was Jack doing here? And dressed like a businessman. Not that Jack couldn't pull off just about any look he tried, even that time he went undercover in drag…. This was different though. That was definitely Jack, but John had never seen him looking so… icy. He knew Jack well and he'd seen him in just about every emotional state, but when Jack was angry it was never cold. No matter how much he might try to feign unfeeling indifference, Jack's problem was that he always cared too damn much. When Jack was hurt, it burned until he exploded. Or imploded, usually.
This Jack… this Jack looked like their most dangerous opponents usually looked. Like someone who could methodically wipe out an entire planet without blinking. Like someone who would snap the neck of his own flesh and blood and walk away. Like someone who knew how to exploit the faintest trace of decency in anyone to their own ends. It looked for all the world like Jack had become Gray.
John knew he'd left Jack devastated by the loss of half his team at Gray's hands, but Jack… there was no way Jack would respond like that. Not as long as Eyecandy was in the picture. John hated to admit it, but he knew Jack was the broken one and Eyecandy was the one doing the fixing. If something had happened to Eyecandy, though….
John took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows. This was so not in his plans for the night.
"What happened to him?"
'Jack' didn't turn, just kept watching the DJ who still couldn't figure out how to change the music. "You've been standing there watching me, armed to the teeth, for the last five minutes. Now, I don't know who you're asking about, but your idea of 'getting me to talk' kinda sucks. Who the hell are you, anyway?"
John rolled his eyes. "Still wearing Hart, I suppose. Haven't met anything that's made me have to change, yet. And you know who I'm talking about because you wouldn't be looking like a sociopath if your little Welsh rarebit was in tow. What happened to him, Jack?"
Now he did turn. "First – no, I don't know what you're talking about. Second – the last person who called me a sociopath to my face doesn't have a face anymore. Third – where the fuck do you get off calling me 'Jack'?"
John almost took a step back. Jack had never looked at him like that before. And that edge in his voice… downright terrifying. Even more than Jack's little 'back from the dead' routine. "Ok. What is it these days, then?"
"These days? It's the same as it's always been – Merlyn. Malcolm Merlyn. And, again, I don't know who you think you are, but I'm going to need a reason to not have you eliminated in about three seconds."
"Well, that's a different M.O., I'll give you that. How about… I've always been a very good wife?"
'Malcolm's' eyes narrowed and darkened for several seconds during which John was considering which coordinates would get him the furthest away from this latest 'incarnation' of his ex-partner.
"Maybe we oughta test that out," Malcolm grated out, only just audible above the pulsing rhythm of "Don't Stop Me Now". He grabbed John's arm and pulled him toward the nearest men's room.