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Superwood Halloween Ficlet

Captain Jack Harkness adjusted his tiara and smoothed his pink satin dress. “Ready, Prince Charming?” he turned and smiled at Castiel.

The angel was dressed in something vaguely resembling a uniform, with a sash across the chest. “I still don’t understand the purpose…”

“It’s having fun,” said Jack leaning in to kiss him before taking his arm. “And we need to blend in.”

It didn’t take long for them to arrive at the party. Heads turned, mostly staring at Jack, but he simply smiled back at them. The party was full of all sorts as the moved around and mingled.

“You some kind of fairy?” one guy, obviously a bit drunk, growled at Jack.

“No, I’m a princess,” answered Jack, touching his tiara. “I’m not the one with wings. Though…” he leaned a little closer. “I bet I could make you see stars.” He winked.

The guy looked about to take a swing for a moment, but then Castiel was stepping between the two of them. Apparently a ticked off angel had a glare to make almost anyone back down, because the drunk guy muttered something and stumbled off.

Castiel turned to Jack. “I do believe the object of interest is in the attic.”

“You’re my object of interest,” grinned Jack. Castiel gave him a look. “I know, I know. Job. Lead on.”

As Jack gathered his skirts, Castiel led the way up a back staircase. They crept through the second floor and to another narrow staircase. There was a terrific sound and they both rushed, Jack nearly tripping, only to find two people already there.

Sam and Dean weren’t making any effort at costume, but they turned in unison at the sound of Castiel and Jack. Dean blinked and stared at the two. Sam took one look and then doubled over with laughter.

“Thought you two were three states over,” said Jack, smoothing his dress again and making sure he hadn’t ripped anything.

“Yeah well, clearly we’re not,” growled Dean.

Grinning, Jack moved towards Dean. “Well, since you’ve saved the day, here’s your princess.”

Dean held up his flashlight like it was a weapon. “Not one step closer, Harkness.”

Without missing a beat, Jack stepped to Sam, who was wiping his eyes, and swept him into short waltz, ignoring the daggers Dean was glaring at his back. When they finished Sam gave Jack a short bow.

“There’s still a party downstairs,” said Jack. “I think we should all celebrate.”

They headed back down. A fast song was playing and Jack pulled Castiel close, feet remembering steps and leading his angel.

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Short SuperWho Fic, Jack Harkness/Castiel

jazzforthecaptain:

The Doctor called again. He was different – he always seemed to be different. Captain Jack Harkness answered the call of course, swept once more into the Doctor’s inertia and the expanse of the TARDIS. His locker was still there, although his things seemed to number somewhat fewer than they had before (seriously, who the hell took his squareness gun?). All in all, it was a grand thing to be back, to be useful, and to be important to his sometimes-mentor.

The adventure matters little. Oh, it meant a great deal to the universe – although as usual, the universe would never truly understand the extent of its own peril. But to this story, the relevant detail was Jack’s sideways slip into the ‘nothing’ between realities. For enough hours to count as ‘days’ to Earth, Jack did not exist. Not in the way things with good solid grounding in our reality exist. Or in any other, for that matter.

That part wasn’t pleasant at all. It was literal hell. But the homecoming rather made up for it. This time, Jack not only had someone waiting for him ‘back home,’ he had someone literally watching for the registry of his existence. The door of the TARDIS swung inward on Mermaid Quay – in need of a fuel-up after that by-the-skin-of-our-teeth (and maybe a little seat-of-our-pants) escape.

And there was an unremarkable man in a pale overcoat with an expression somewhere between a bonfire and a thunderclap.

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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.

continue on AO3

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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

jazzforthecaptain:

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.