Disclaimers: Doctor Who, Captain Jack and Donna belong to the BBC etc.

Request on my LiveJournal for a Jack and Donna drabble. Set at the end of 'Journey's End', where everyone is celebrating on the TARDIS.

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"So, his ruddy hand got lopped off, fell to Earth, and then you nicked it from Torchwood One?" Donna asked. Jack nodded. "And then the Doctor took his hand-inna-jar back off you?"

"Yeah," Jack confirmed, pouting almost sulkily.

Donna narrowed her eyes, a few little things starting to fall in place. Things the Doctor had said in passing about Torchwood's leader, memories that weren't her own flitting around her head of shameless flirting and snogging of anything that had a pulse. They hadn't invented a word yet that could fully encompass Jack's promiscuity. "How long was this hand in your possession for?" she asked carefully.

Jack broke into a shit-eating grin. "A while." He added a wink into the mix.

Oh. My. God, she thought as a horrible (yet strangely erotic) image presented itself in her mind. From the way that Jack's grin seemed to be growing impossibly bigger, she had a feeling he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"You didn't..."

"I did."

"But... it's... that's..." She hit him. Hard. "I don't even bloody well know what it is, exactly, but it's wrong and sick on so many levels! You are a sick, sick man, Jack Harkness!" She hit him again for good measure, and then stormed off.

Jack stared after her, confused, and absently rubbed at the spots she'd hit. Okay, sure, it was wrong of him to have used the Doctor's hand to scare the living shit out of Ianto last Halloween, but it wasn't the kind of thing that deserved that kind of reaction. It wasn't as if he's used it as a masturbatory aid or anything... His eyes widened in horror. Oh, fuck.

"Donna!" he yelled after her, "It's not what you think!"

Fin.