Disclaimer: Not mine. It's very sad, I agree. If it looks familiar, it's because it's also on LJ and Teaspoon.
Summary: It was Jack's dream come true. Him, naked, in a bath, with Rose. Too bad he can't wake up.

A/N: While this does work as a stand-alone, it's technically part of the Crossroads series and takes place during Chapter 9 of Part Two: One Day.


Best. Dream. Ever.

It was Jack's dream come true. Him, naked, in a bath, with Rose rinsing soapy water over him, working her fingers in his hair, the nails gently scraping against his scalp.

No, wait. Not a bath – a shower. Of course he was in a shower, he was standing up, wasn't he? He could tell that much, even if his eyes were closed. He probably should be worried that he couldn't open them, but oh, this was much better. Rose still worked the lather over him, and there was the added bonus of the Doctor standing behind him, holding him up. A good thing, too, since Jack's legs didn't want to work properly. Jack could feel the Doctor's arms around him, supporting him, the heat radiating off his…

Not naked arms?

Ah.

Jack reassessed.

He was naked. The Doctor was wearing a shirt. Granted, it wasn't his suit, so Jack supposed that might have counted as naked. He wondered if Rose was naked.

"This blue custard is not coming off," complained Rose, sounding extremely exasperated. Jack supposed anyone that annoyed could not possibly be naked.

"There's still soap in his hair," replied the Doctor.

It was much too clinical to really be suited to any fantasy Jack had ever harbored. Besides, he'd been able to open his eyes in most of those fantasies.

"It's not like I can see the top of his head, now, can I?" countered Rose. "I thought it was just because you'd left me coated in this custard for four days that made it so hard to wash off – this is awful."

"We could just leave him to soak in the bath."

"He's not a pot you've left on the stove too long. And we'd still have to watch to make sure he didn't drown."

"Rose – this is Jack."

"Just because he's immortal is no reason to be wasteful," said Rose, and Jack found himself doused with water from head to toe as the spray was redirected.

"Oi, try not to splash me too!"

"Don't hold him so close, then. Goodness, Doctor, one might get the wrong impression."

The Doctor squeaked. Jack tried to grin, and failed. He wondered if the blue custard Rose was washing off caused temporary paralysis, and how long it would be before it wore off.

Hopefully, before he was dressed. If Jack was naked, he had plans.

"Is the soap gone?"

"Yep."

"Good. Let's dry him off. We've had him in the water so long, he looks like a prune."

It was very hard not to take it personally. Jack was sure Rose meant "prune" in the most loving, general way possible, but still. Certain parts of the male anatomy are not meant to resemble prunes.

The towels were mismatched. One was soft, moving with gentle motions and a feathery touch. The other was rough, briskly rubbing down his skin in a concentrated effort to dry him off. Normally, Jack would have assumed Rose used the gentle motions, but after the prune comment, he wasn't so sure. The fact that the gentle towel had been the one to handle what he was hoping wasn't the pruney parts of his anatomy did not help.

"Pyjamas?" asked Rose.

"We'll need to lay him down." Jack felt himself lifted into what he assumed were the Doctor's arms. Thin arms, flat chest, very strong. Jack felt his head fall back, but just as quickly, a hand reached up and pushed it towards the Doctor's chest to rest. Rose, most likely – her hands were small and warm from the shower.

Sweet girl, Rose. Even if she probably wasn't naked.

"At least he's asleep," sighed Rose. The relief in her tone was profoundly disappointing. "I don't think I could stand a shower with Jack if he were awake."

The silence was extremely noisy, as far as silence went.

"Doctor?"

Jack felt himself dropped onto a cot. "Pyjamas are on the dresser," said the Doctor, his voice oddly strained.

"Oh, what?"

"Let's just get him dressed."

"You are so ridiculous, you know that, right?" Rose blurted out. "It's Jack."

"Yes, thanks, well aware of that."

"You don't think I actually want to shower with Jack?"

"That's not what I was thinking at all!" The Doctor was beginning to sound desperate. "I was most certainly not thinking about showering with Jack. I mean, you showering with Jack. I wasn't. No. Yes. No. Ah."

Jack felt his feet being lifted one by one, and a pair of pyjama pants being slid onto his legs. He wondered, idly, which of them would be the one to lift his hips.

"Ah – you don't want to shower with Jack, do you? Doctor?" Rose's voice was high now. Jack would have smirked, if he had any control over his body whatsoever.

(Of course, if he'd had any control, the three of them would still be in the shower.)

"No!"

"Oh. Good. Then."

"I do not want to shower with Jack."

"Okay."

"There is no power in the galaxy strong enough to make me ever want to share a shower with Jack Harkness. Present situation excepted, and only because of extreme circumstances."

"I hear you."

"I can think of at least a dozen people with whom I would rather shower than Jack."

It was time for hips. Jack waited. Small hands, Rose. Big hands, Doctor.

"…A dozen?"

"Ah."

Jack continued to wait.

"Like…who?"

"Not important. No one you know. Other people. Long-gone people. Some aren't even people. Ooo, look, we still have to put on Jack's top."

Jack thought this a silly distraction, since his pyjama pants were still located around his knees.

"So…not Sarah Jane?"

"Nope, not Sarah Jane. Never Sarah Jane. I picture Sarah Jane fully clothed at all times."

"Or Martha."

"Never Martha, of course not, wouldn't dream of it. We really should finish dressing Jack."

"It's not K-9, is it?"

The room was beginning to get cold. Jack wondered if they'd forgotten about him.

"A shower would destroy his circuitry."

"Oh, of course. A whole dozen, hmm?"

"At least!"

"And...no one I know?"

"Ah...no?"

Rose sighed. Jack heard a tsking sound, as if Rose was clucking in sympathy over something. "Poor Jack."

Now the Doctor was incredulous, which was just as well, because so was poor Jack. "Poor Jack?"

"Maybe I should shower with him, if you've got a whole dozen nameless people you'd shower with before you'd shower with him. People I've never met."

Jack was so shocked, he forgot to pay attention to the size of the hands that lifted his hips. The pants were quickly pulled up over them, and he was set back down on the cot.

"You can't shower with Jack!" The Doctor practically howled.

"Oh?"

"He – he's unconscious! He might drown!"

"Oh, like he wouldn't come back after a minute or two."

"Just because he can't die is no reason to be wasteful!"

"Help me with this top, won't you?"

"Rose! I expressly forbid you to shower with Jack! In fact, new TARDIS rule! No showering with Jack!"

"That's nice. Can you sit him up, please?"

Jack felt himself lifted up.

"Didn't you hear me?"

"Of course I did."

A sleeve on one arm, a sleeve on the other. Jack felt himself lowered back to the cot, and he was positive that it was Rose who began fastening the buttons.

"I don't want you to shower with Jack."

"I know."

"But…"

"The feeling is mutual, you know."

Something was pulled up around him – sheets or blankets, perhaps both. Jack began to feel quite comfortable. Also sleepy.

"Oh. Well. That's...that's good. Then."

"Was there anything else you needed, Doctor?"

"Ah…no."

"You should probably call Mickey, make sure he's all right."

"Yes. I…should."

"I'll sit here with Jack, in case he wakes up."

"I don't think he'll wake for a while."

"All the same. Off you go."

"….Rose?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

Jack held his breath.

"I'll be right back."

A hand rested on Jack's forehead, soft and small. He had the odd sensation that he could feel Rose smiling.

"I know."