Inspired by this post on tumblr: “Because the interior of the Tardis is in a separate dimension and Castiel is a multidimensional being, his wings can be viewed when he stands inside it.”
And my mind went ”OH” and ran with it. Hope you enjoy. 🙂
Read on: AO3 FanFiction.Net
This gifset inspired me to write a harkstiel ficlet:
Mending – Castiel mends Jack’s coat. It’s a lot harder to mend Jack.
teaser below the cut
The night was quiet, save a small breeze through the trees and the usual background of insects. A campfire crackled in front of Castiel as he carefully drew needle and thread through the heavy fabric of Jack’s coat. On the other side of the fire, Jack dozed lightly, his wounds already healing. Soon the freshly mended coat would be the only evidence left of the recent fight.
Jack stirred and sat up, poking at the fire and watching the embers for a long moment before turning his gaze to Castiel’s deft fingers. The angel shifted the material in his hands and made sure the coat didn’t get dragged through the dirt at his feet. Leaning back, Jack looked up at the stars above them, spread out like a dark blanket across the wide, moonless sky. Castiel couldn’t help but notice the faraway look in his eyes. Thinking of other times, other people, other places.
Sholto wasn’t the first commanding officer John had slept with… nor was he the longest standing ‘relationship’ John had had in the army. No, that honor went to one Colonel Sebastian Moran. John had lost track of Sebastian after he’d been discharged over something John still wasn’t clear on. So when he came face to face with him at the pool his surprise couldn’t have been greater.
If Sherlock or Jim either one ever picked up on the fact that John and Sebastian looked like they’d been fucked hard and used after the incident, neither ever spoke of it.
Every once in a while, Jim and Sherlock ‘lose track’ of their favorites for about six hours. It’s all either genius can do to keep from rolling his eyes and pointing out the love bite that isn’t quite covered, or poke fun at how one of them is walking. BothJim and Sherlock politely ignore that the two of them are carrying on their little affair… At least to John and Sebastian’s faces.
The texts they send one another about the ridiculous attempts to hide it are another matter entirely.
stephrc79 all but demanded some Stucky porn, so here you go. 😉 Short and to the point:
Bucky didn’t like to admit it, but there was something attractive about Steve wiping the blood from his split lip after yet another alley fight. He wanted to lick it off Steve’s lips and cheek, wanted to pull his friend close and unbutton the shirt that hung too loose on him. Wanted to press him against the alley wall and do so much more. And then he realized the way Steve was watching him.
Steve’s breath was still coming in short little pants. His blue eyes were dark, but it didn’t look like fear. Suddenly Bucky found himself shoved against the wall behind the dumpster, Steve’s hands on <i>his</i> body. The metallic tang of blood as their lips crashed together. Bucky leaned down to return the kiss, but Steve pushed him back harder.
Heart pounding in his chest, Bucky was aware they could be caught at any time. Steve didn’t seem to care, going for Bucky’s belt and yanking his pants down to his thighs before flipping him to face the wall. Bucky braced himself with one arm, his other hand dropping to squeeze his own cock. And then Steve was pushing in. It <i>burned</i>, but Bucky couldn’t care less right then.
After a moment Steve pulled back. Bucky whined softly at the loss. He heard Steve spitting and then pushing back in again. That wasn’t much better. He was going to feel this for a <i>week</i>. Good. Every step he took, he’d remember the cold bricks bruising his arm, the way Steve was pushing deeper inside of him, hot breath against his back. He stroked himself, swearing softly.
It was quick; it had to be. Steve came first, groaning softly against Bucky’s shirt. A few more strokes and Bucky was following him over, spilling against the brick. Steve stayed there a moment longer, then pulled out. Bucky waited until he heard the clang of Steve’s belt being done. Then he got his own pants up. He turned and leaned in to kiss Steve one more time, licking his split lip.
Steve gave him a smile and they headed back into the city.
But also imagine that Cas and the Doctor (always Ten idk) manipulate time through different channels so they both have a kind of grudging respect and it’s a not-quite-friendly interaction between the two that leads Cas to meeting Jack
The TARDIS jumped like a sedan going over a raccoon. Jack felt that ‘bump’ would have been a far less gloomy comparison, but given the circumstances, death was more likely than turbulence.
Maybe that was just a year of torture talking. Or, you know, witnessing the actual death of the universe.
The TARDIS’s brief founder had everyone’s attention. Martha joined the Doctor at the console, who bent over a tiny monitor. Jack thought about doing the same, then thought better. He’d done some important prioritizing during his stay on the Valiant; no sense in making himself part of the rhythm now. He’d be leaving soon, this time probably for good. Jack didn’t WANT it to be forever… but he felt a twinge of permanence when he thought about his practiced speech.
Maybe he’d just go pack. Whatever hadn’t been raided from his room, anyway. Sheesh. Opportunist wolves, these companions since him. He turned to head down the corridor.
“…Jack?”
Jack turned at the Doctor’s summons. “Yes, sir?”
The Doctor pushed up his glasses and looked down his nose at Jack over the top of the console. “You mind getting the door? For a friend. Well. Colleague. We-ell…” He searched for a more appropriate descriptor while Jack followed the request. He pulled the door open to the whirling time vortex. His joints remembered the screaming cold pain of clinging to the TARDIS.
A stranger’s hand swept through the doorway, catching Jack’s wrist in a ferocious grip. The force nearly yanked Jack out with it, but then Martha was there anchoring him, and the two of them towed their strange cargo aboard.
Like a wine cork coming free, the stranger tumbled through the door and rolled both Jack and Martha to the bridge floor. He landed mostly on Jack… who landed completely on Martha.
“Oye!” She yelped.
“Everyone all right?” The Doctor asked, without looking up. Jack shifted himself and the stranger sideways with a grumpy apology. Until he looked down… and found himself looking up into a pair of the most brilliant blue eyes he’d seen on a human face.
Brilliant… and pissed.
“Captain Jack Harkness,” Jack smiled, and who are *you?*“
"Jack,” the Doctor’s voice held a note of warning.
“Castiel,” the stranger replied, rose as indiffently as if he *hadn’t* been sprawled between Jack’s legs, and proceeded to the console. There, while Martha and Jack looked on in bewildered amusement, he proceeded to engage the Doctor in an absolutely splendid argument. Terms like ‘megalomaniacal amateur’ and ‘delusions of heroism’ were bandied about.
Martha raised her eyebrows at Jack and made a shooing motion towards the combatants. He grinned, poked his pinkies in his mouth, and let out a piercing whistle that (momentarily) brought things to a halt.
“Doctor?” Jack asked, “Everything ship-shape?”
“Oh, yes. Just a friendly theological discussion between time travelers. Castiel’s a concerned citizen. He does this periodically.”
Castiel’s already stormy disapproval whipped into a squall. “Does *what* ‘periodically’?”
And Lord if he didn’t have just the sexiest angry voice. Before Jack could insert himself into the discussion, it closed him out again. Martha nudged his shoulder.
“Hey,” she smiled, angling her head towards the corridor, “I smuggled in some chocolate biscuits, last stop. Fancy a coffee?”
Jack’s frustration soothed. He remembered again why he’d made his decisions, where he was going, and why. Saving his most dazzling grin for the beauty at his side, Jack offered her a gratious arm.
surprised and a lil disappointed by the sheer lack of captain america/doctor who crossovers considering bucky barnes literally took a companion on a date in the fuckin 1940s
#yes please give me these#also lets include captain jack#because seriously take a moment and imagine jack in the same room as steve and bucky#flirting his ass off#and bucky glaring at him with murder eyes#like dont you fucking touch steve#he is mine#and steve more or less oblivious to this silent dialogue going on around him#trying to be polite (via)
and then it results in a threesomewaIT NO OKAY LISTEN alright this is what happens jack has been slumming it since 1869 trying not to get too involved because that could result in bad things. but he decides to enlist in world war ii (just like he enlisted in every war since he showed up here because he didn’t want some idealistic kid to die when he could sign up in their place and if he got shot he’d be fine. and that takes just a little bit of guilt off of him) and since he’s in the us at this point, because he really can’t stay in any one place for a significant amount of time, of course he’s going to enlist in the us. and where does he get assigned but the 107th. where he meets bucky barnes, a draftee from brooklyn who happened to be able to shoot a rifle. and his heart sinks because he knows how this story ends (or, how it ended on earth circa 2005, anyway)
It’s A Girl (SuperWood Ficlet, Harkstiel, K)
Jack sashayed across the alley on his toes, kicking up a miniature dust storm. He whirled with a rowdy whoop to his nonplussed companion, standing unmoved in the shade of ivy-draped eaves a few steps away.
“It’s a girl!” Jack crowed. He clapped his phone closed.
Castiel’s bland blue eyes squeezed in confusion. “What is?”
“The baby! Martha Jones has a daughter!” Jack’s voice swelled. He was suddenly in Castiel’s space, clapping a hand to his cheek with a little shake for emphasis.
“You were expecting a boy?” Castiel asked. Humans were always so jubilant about their infants. Castiel thought human young fascinating and precious, but sometimes the level of enthusiasm seemed disproportionate. Then again, it was Jack. His enthusiasm for everything was usually disproportionate.
Jack pulled a face. “Well, she is half Mickey’s. He’s just obstinate enough to insist on a boy.”
Castiel tipped his head. There was that, as well – infant genetics were a gamble of odds without outside interference on the divine level. And yet humans inevitably blamed any number of unrelated events for everything from eye color to height to a propensity for 3 a.m. screaming fits.
“She’ll be just like her mother,” Jack declared, “she’ll be fabulous!”
“It’s a bit early for expectations,” Castiel protested. He, for example, would have appreciated some options before being assigned Thursdays and – frankly – the Winchesters.
“What else are expectations for?” Jack bantered, scooped his arm behind Castiel’s back and swung him in a circle. It wasn’t a new thing, and Castiel spun like a dancer to follow. Neither was the boisterous attendant kiss a new thing, which he was happy to indulge.
“Congratulations, Jack,” Castiel said afterward. In the face of such magnetic joy, even his usual sobriety couldn’t stand, and he found himself smiling. Jack accepted the congratulations as if he’d made the baby personally for Martha and Mickey.
“They’ve named her Tosha,” he said, and took a slow breath. His smile flickered. Castiel scuffed his cheekbone with a thumb and left him the silent space. Then with a bounce like a startled horse, Jack was off down the alley after their quarry.
After a moment – and maybe a smile, he was yet unaccustomed to the expression – Castiel hurried to take up the spot at Jack’s side.
And now that I’ve spammed you all with John and Misha, have a quick little harkstiel ficlet I wrote earlier today:
Wake Me – Castiel is there when Jack has bad dreams.
teaser below the cut
In his dreams, Jack could never get away. Faces haunted him. Places. Lives that he passed by, touched for a moment, or a year and then gone. He twitched in his sleep, seeing the ones he couldn’t save.
A kiss awakened him. Pushing the dreams aside, he smiled against it and opened his eyes. “Good morning, Prince Charming.”
Castiel’s brow furrowed. “I’m not a Prince.”
