All That Glitters...

Chapter 1

Rated M for sex, (fairly) explicit M/M relations, language and horror in later chapters. Enjoy!

Also, on a quick side note – this story is written with the Thommy fandom in mind, i.e. Downton Abbey fans who ship Thomas and Jimmy, so Thomas and Jimmy's relationship will be the main focus of this fic (I know that the first chapter is a bit misleading in this respect). Therefore, although it is a cross-over with Doctor Who no prior knowledge of Who is needed to enjoy this fic, although there is some Who background info about Captain Jack Harkness which will be useful to know when reading this – if you are a non-Whovian, this background info can be found on my tumblr (pinktintedmonocle), or just PM me and I'll send it to you.

Anywho, on with the story...

September 1914

It was Thomas Barrow's first day off in nearly a month, and it was raining. Bloody typical, he thought sourly, staring out of the nearest window at the grey drizzle soaked street beyond.

Thomas had hoped that volunteering for the medical core would be something of an easy ride (at least compared to joining the army), but he had been at the training hospital in York for over six weeks now and he had hated every second of it. Ever since the outbreak of war there had barely been a minute when he wasn't rushed off his feet. There was already talk of him being sent to the front. Not if I can bloody help it, he had thought when his commanding officer had told him the news. You can shove your sodding war where the sun don't shine if you think I'm going to France to risk life and limb for some prissy middle class schoolboys who are in over their heads.

It had been blazing hot all week, and he had hoped to spend his solitary free day having a walk around the city before finding a quiet sunny spot where he could sit down and read a book. But then, that morning, the heavens had opened, and had not yet seen fit to close. Thomas would have rather stayed in the hospital than traipse the streets of York while getting soaked to the skin, but it was his day off, and the only opportunity he'd get for a long while to escape that ammonia soaked hell-hole.

So he'd borrowed a brolly from his bunk mate and legged it to the nearest pub where he'd now been for well nigh on four hours, and had blown a fair chunk of his last wage packet from Downton on beer. Shame they don't have any wine here, he thought ruefully, glancing around the grotty interior of the ale-house. But then they don't seem to have much of anything. Apart from shit booze, that is. He took another gulp from his glass and grimaced. He didn't know how the day could get much worse.

Just then the bell above the door tinkled, and a man entered the bar. This wasn't an unusual occurrence in itself; there had already been a dozen or so men enter the pub since Thomas had arrived, all of them portly middle aged farmer types with ruddy faces and runny noses. But this man was different. He was smartly dressed in a sharp suit of blue serge that Thomas found himself instantly envious of. The fatigues of a medical officer felt like sackcloth next to his footman's uniform, and Thomas always hated not being able to look his best.

He was handsome too, this mysterious well-dressed man, with short dark hair similar to Thomas' and a winning smile which he flashed at the girl behind the counter. Very handsome indeed, thought Thomas as the man laughed at something the barmaid said with a flash of white teeth and dimples.

Thomas hadn't realised quite how blatantly he'd been staring until the man turned towards him and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Thomas gave him a polite a smile. The man paid the barmaid and picked up his pint, before making his way over to the corner table where Thomas was seated.

'Mind if I join you?" he asked in an American accent, shooting Thomas a dazzling grin as he sat down opposite him, not waiting for an answer. Thomas felt his breath hitch in his chest. "Not at all" he responded as smoothly as he could. It had been a while since he had attempted to flirt with another man; not since the Pamuk debacle, in fact. And he wasn't even sure that the American was interested in him in that way. Perhaps he was just being friendly. Thomas decided to play it safe. For now.

"Captain Jack Harkness" said the American, holding out a hand. He smiled again, and Thomas felt his heart flutter a little. Don't be getting carried away said a voice in his head. No point in fawning over him, not after last time. Likelihood is he'll reject you straight off the bat you if you try anything and you'll only succeed in landing yourself in hot water once again. But the Captain was still grinning at him, hand still outstretched, so Thomas pushed the voice to one side.

"Corporal Thomas Barrow" said Thomas, leaning forward to grip Jack's hand. Well, not quite a Corporal yet. But I will be soon. And anyway, why should he be the only one who gets to have a rank?

"Pleased to meet you, Corporal" said the Captain winningly, shaking Thomas' hand. It may have just been wishful thinking, but Thomas could have sworn that Jack's fingers lingered a little longer than strictly necessary on his own.

"Likewise, Captain" replied Thomas, the confidence starting to seep back into his voice. "So, what brings you to Yorkshire? I'm assuming you're not here for the climate". He gestured towards the window. It was still pissing down outside.

The Captain laughed. "No, can't say that it was the weather that brought me to this neck of the woods. Although it's certainly better than Wales; doesn't quite rain every day here." He shot Thomas another grin and took a sip of his drink. "No, but seriously, I'm here on business."

"War business?" questioned Thomas.

"What else?" said the American, a little ruefully. "All business is war business these days."

"Around for a while?" asked Thomas. He was starting to warm to his handsome stranger. Just a little.

"Not much longer. Concluded my business this morning, in fact. Hence the celebrating. And the civvies." He lifted his pint and tipped Thomas a wink while taking another swig.

Thomas gave a snort of derision. "Not much of a celebration.", he said, using a hand to gesture at their shabby surroundings. He was surprised to find himself a little disappointed that the American would be leaving so soon. Don't know why you'd be surprised said the voice in his head. Everyone you've ever liked has buggered off and left you. Why should he be any different?

"Oh, I don't know about that" said Jack, his voice dropping an octave. He leaned across the table, bringing his face nearer to Thomas'. "I think I might be in for a very enjoyable day. Now that I've found you." he said, grinning wolfishly.

Despite his best efforts to remain aloof, Thomas felt a blush creep up his cheeks. The Captain's grin turned into a leer as he moved closer to the former footman. Under the table, Thomas felt Jack's hand on his thigh.

Well, Thomas thought happily, there's no mistaking that. He had a quick glance around the pub to make sure no-one was watching before he placed his own hand on Jack's knee. He gazed seductively up at the Captain through thick lashes. "Do you have somewhere we can go?" he asked coyly.

Jack's leer widened. "That I do. You wanna go straight there or can I buy you a drink first?"

Thomas looked down at his half-full pint of scummy beer in distaste. "Let's go." he said.

"Ooooo, eager." The Captain wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I like that in a man."

Jack swigged down the rest of his pint and wrinkled his nose. "God this stuff is crap." He complained rather loudly, earning him a glare from one of the farmer types across the room. Jack just grinned and laughed again, and Thomas found himself smiling too. "Shall we?" said Jack, gesturing towards the door.

Thomas nodded. "After you, Captain."

As they walked out of the pub and hurried down the wet road outside, Thomas could barely believe his luck. Not only was a Jack a handsome man who apparently didn't pussy-foot around when it came to sex, he was also a Captain. An American one, perhaps, but a Captain nonetheless. A man of power. One who'd be sure to find himself in a whole world of trouble if any of his superiors found out about our... encounter. After they had indulged their passions Thomas would only have to engage in a light bit of blackmail to get Captain Harkness to pull a few strings to excuse Thomas from active duty, and he would get to stay in the safety of his mother country for the rest of the war.

Not a bad day at all, really Thomas thought smugly, as he followed Jack down a narrow alleyway. Not bad at all.

"Oh God, shit, FUCK!" screamed Thomas as he came in Jack's mouth. He felt his muscles spasm as a wave of pure ecstasy crashed over him. He saw stars and felt the white heart of orgasm course through his body. His took a great shuddering breath as the feeling of pleasure subsided, before letting his head hit the pillows on Jack's bed while the rest of him went as limp as a rag doll.

His resolve to engage in a quick bit of action before playing the blackmail card had lasted until Jack had kissed him for the first time. Thomas had always scolded himself for being such a romantic when it came to sex. He always told himself he would keep an emotional distance from his lovers, that he wouldn't get too attached, but he always failed. Although normally it took a few good shags before Thomas gave his heart away, it had only taken a quick brush of the lips before he fell for Jack.

After they had left the pub, the Captain had taken Thomas to an abandoned factory building on the outskirts of the city. The fuck is this place? Thomas had thought in confusion. Hope he doesn't expect us to do it on top of a load of rusty machinery.

Jack had laughed as if he could read Thomas' mind and beckoned him inside with a grin. "Don't worry about appearances." he had said. "I assure you that you'll be pleasantly surprised once we get inside."

And Thomas had been. Although the inside of the building was indeed strewn with broken cogs, bits of conveyor belts and other pieces of dilapidated industrial machinery, Jack had led Thomas over to an old service elevator in the corner, guided the soon-to-be Corporal inside and pressed the button for the basement. "Going down," he had said, eyes mentally undressing Thomas as the life clattered its way to the depths of the factory. "Yes please."

Thomas had started to become a little worried that Jack had something far more sinister planned than a simple shag, but all of his fears soon evaporated when the doors of the elevator sprang open and Thomas saw the room beyond. The basement of the factory couldn't have been more different from the floor above. The walls, floor and ceiling were all a painted a silvery white that gave the room a faint glow. In the centre of the large space was a kingsize double bed with soft white sheets and a gleaming silver frame. A few odd bits of furniture where dotted around, silver to match the rest of the decor. Thomas thought it looked like something out of a H. G. Wells novel.

"You like?" asked Jack, grinning again.

"I, well, I, yes." stuttered Thomas, in a state of mild shock. "How did you - I mean – it is yours?"

"Yup" said the Captain, cocking his head a little to the side. "Well, actually no, but it's as good as for the night. I'm loaning it from a friend."

Thomas just nodded mutely, a little overwhelmed. His eyes drifted to the bed. Jack followed his gaze. "Ah", Jack had said, his wolfish grin returning to his lips. "Let's get on with it, eh?" And with another quick grin he had leaned in and kissed Thomas.

It was not that Thomas was a stranger to kissing, it was simply that he had never before kissed someone quite as skilled and enthusiastic as Jack. The American's tongue slid expertly between Thomas' lips, and he had cupped Thomas' buttocks with his hands as he moved them both towards the bed. It wasn't just the kiss that had tipped Thomas over the edge, amazing as it was, but the whole feel of the man. Jack felt incredible, all toned muscle and finely chiselled features. And he smelt wonderful. Thomas had never met anyone who smelt so good, not even the expensively perfumed aristocrats that he had served at Downton.

When they reached the bed Jack had pushed Thomas roughly into the soft linen and reached down to remove both their trousers. "Oh, I nearly forgot to say; this whole room is completely sound-proofed. So feel free to scream as loud as you want." And with that the Captain had climbed on top of Thomas with a final wink'n'grin, and had wrapped his mouth around the other man's cock, at which point Thomas' brain had short-circuited.

That had been nearly four hours previously, during which the two men had taken it in turns to penetrate each other in a variety of highly unusual (and somewhat dangerous) positions. Thomas' most recent shuddering orgasm had marked the end of round five. He wondered, dazedly, if all American's were this good in bed. He'd only ever had English lovers before, and most of them had been fairly conservative when it came to nocturnal activities. Perhaps I should emigrate after the war.

While he waited for his vision to clear he felt Jack flop down beside him, breathing heavily. "You know it's been a while since I met someone who could keep pace with me as well as you do. I must congratulate you Corporal. You should get a medal for that."

Thomas' eyes focused just long enough to see Jack looming over him before his mouth was covered once again. He moaned wantonly into the Captain's mouth, too spent to respond with much vigour. Jack's mouth moved away from Thomas' own and he trailed hot wet kisses down Thomas' neck. The former footman groaned in feeble protest as he brought his hands up to rest of Jack's chest, gently pushing him away.

"Maybe we can take a little, ah, breather" panted Thomas. God I need a fag. Jack smiled. "If we must." The American rolled off him. Thomas leaned over the side of the bed and reached out to where his jacket lay on the floor. He rooted around in the pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a box of matches. He lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply before offering the pack to Jack.

"Not for me" said the Captain, shaking his head. "Those things can seriously shorten your life span, you know."

Thomas snorted in contempt. "Says who? And anyway, we all die sooner or later." Jack laughed loudly, as if the idea of dying was the funniest thing in the world. Thomas suddenly remembered his plan to get Jack to make sure he didn't have to go to France. I mustn't forget about that, he thought vaguely.

"So, what did you do before the war?" asked the Captain, propping himself up on one elbow and turning to look at Thomas. "I'm guessing you weren't a builder or a farmer, not with hands that smooth."

Thomas took a drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke into the air. "I was a footman" he said.

"A footman!" Jack exclaimed gleefully. "I bet you looked a treat in a waistcoat and tails. Don't still have them, do you?"

"No." replied Thomas, quirking an eyebrow. "Why?"

Jack shrugged. "I do love a man in a good uniform, that's all. Pity they're gone. I might have been convinced to hang around these parts a little longer if I knew I could've looked forward to the sight of you dressed up to the nines." He reached forward to brush a stray lock of hair from Thomas' eyes. "But then I may stick around anyway, now that I've met you."

Thomas felt his heart skip a beat and turned away from Jack to hide the happy flush of colour that had appeared on his face. He stubbed out his cigarette on the silver surface of the bedside cabinet. Maybe they'll be no blackmail needed after all. Maybe we can just stay here together until the war is over. Shh! said the more practical side of his brain. Stop being such a romantic clot and keep focused on the plan. He ignored it. As he flicked a few stray bits of ash from his fingers, his gaze fell on a chair near the bed. It was silver, like everything else in the room, and had a long blue greatcoat thrown over it. The coat was nice, very nice, even sharper than Jack's suit. It had a military look about it, but Thomas has never seen a coat quite like it which was odd. He was normally so good with clothes.

He turned back to Jack. "What about you, then? What did you do before the war?"

"Oh, you know", Jack replied vaguely, waving a hand around. "This and that." Thomas knew he was being purposely elusive, but didn't press him further. He was too exhausted to ask any deep, probing question. Too tired for any other types of deep probing either. At least for now. He yawned widely.

"Sleepy?" Jack asked. Thomas yawned again in response. "Me too. Come here, we can fall asleep together." He lifted up an arm and Thomas shifted towards him, placing his head on Jack's chest. He felt Jack's arm wrap around him. He'd never been allowed to sleep in the same bed as any of his other lovers. It felt good.

"Sweet dreams, Corporal." He heard Jack murmur, and felt a kiss being pressed to his forehead.

And as he drifted off to sleep in Jack's arms, Thomas Barrow wondered if it could be possible for life to get any better than this.