Fic: Five Times Jack Harkness Met the Wrong End of a Pointy Stick
Title: Five Times Jack Harkness Met the Wrong End of a Pointy Stick (and One Time He Dind't)
Characters: Jack
Spoilers: Everything Changes, Utopia (if you squint)
Words: 6 drabbles, all with exactly 100 words.
Notes: I actually have no excuse for this, all I can say is that it sounded funny in my head. Written down? Well, you decide. It's a bit silly, really. Unbetaed, and just written because I can't sleep in this heat.
Fic Masterlist: Here.
The first time is his own fault, flirting with a roman soldier maybe wasn't the cleverest thing, but Jack had simply misjudged the guy's smile.
Who would've thought that - after falling through the Rift - such a short (and sexy) uniform could still conceal a javelin?
When he gets up again, making sure no one saw his embarrassing blunder, he decides he really needs to learn more languages to swear in.
The soldier is at his feet in an instant, clearly worshipping the Immortal God he offended with his attack, desperate to make amends.
Jack grins. Sometimes he loves his job.
---
The second time was honestly not his fault, he really hadn't flirted at all.
The giant single cell organism had taken a fancy to him nevertheless, he tried to explain afterwards, but his team was too busy laughing.
Good thing they came a bit too late to see him die, a giant reproductive pili being rammed into his chest while fighting the thing off wasn't as funny as it looks now.
He lies back in the exploded remains, slimy, stinking cell mass coating him from head to toe. The jokes won't stop for weeks.
He just hopes he isn't pregnant.
---
"I dream of that Sirohian device that occupied my brain," Ianto tells Jack, trying to get some answers. Both of them nearly died that day and he can't remember.
"I dream that I... killed you with a spear," Jack simply laughs, and Ianto has to agree that it sounds ridiculous.
"There is a javelin in the archives, I looked. There's blood on it." Ianto holds his breath, Jack silently stares into his coffee.
"Did I ever tell you that Järvinen only broke the world records because he imagined hitting me with that spear?"
It's not an answer, just another question.
---
Myfanwy needs a mate, Jack decides, closing his muddied coat to conceal his bloody, torn shirt.
"I found out who uproots all the young trees," he sighs, pointing upwards.
"Interesting, Sir," Ianto answers, eager to add that fact to their growing list of Things Known About Pterodactyls. Jack disagrees, but being dropped onto sharp, broken trunks out of dinosaur claws is rarely anything other than unpleasant.
"Showing you her nest... she must really like you," Ianto adds with a smirk, clearly making another note on his second list, the one of People/Things That Fancy Jack Harkness.
"Bloody fantastic," Jack grimaces.
---
"How the hell did that happen?!"
It isn't the first time that Jack wakes to that sentence, and it's getting old and annoying.
"I said to stop immediately, see what happens if you don't listen!?"
Jack blinks, grass tickling his neck, a group of track suits bending over him. Cardiff playing field, he remembers; chasing an Acinonyx right through a javelin lesson.
Stupid.
Seems someone was nice enough to pull the spear out of his stomach.
He inhales, the explanation about flesh wounds already on his lips. Instead he sneaks away, the trainer too busy shouting at his class to notice.
---
Jack stops dead, staring at the glass doors of the Cardiff Greenhouse's Desert Section in horror.
He knows too well what awaits him inside; not just an alien pulled through the Rift, but probably dozens of cacti. He could never stand those. His eyelid twitches, remembering how pointed things tended to end up in his innards.
He frowns, calculating how pissed off a semi-sentient, alien plant could get if disturbed during budding. It was probably enough to throw humans around a greenhouse's desert section.
Maybe it's time for another, better approach, he thinks.
"Owen, you handle this, I'm waiting outside."
*hides*
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dune_drd) wrote,
silly
