Alright, Tenny and Jack; let's go. Also, I'll be using John Smith for the Doctor's human name, being AU and all. Characters might seem OOC but its late here.
The Thames almost glimmered in the noon sun, small reflects of light on the murky top. Just like typical United Kingdom, the skies where grey. People still bustled about, running along the streets and sidewalks, they had places to see, to go, and people to visit.
Among them sauntered John Smith, hands resting in his pockets. With his tousled brown hair and eyes like pools of chocolate, long and lean legs and the ever worn smile, he was a sight of beauty. He was called by his current girlfriend, Rose Tyler, to the river. They had a steady relationship, built on affection and love. It had lasted for months, soon stretching into a year. It transferred into two years, Rose's mother being proud of her daughter, holding onto a man for this long.
She herself had blonde hair that caressed her shoulders. Her brown eyes held warmth to them on most days, sometimes falling if sadness struck. With her short legs, height being the cause, she made her way to John.
As he saw her, he beamed a bright smile like the sun. He withdrew his hand from his pockets, pulling her into a light hug. He didn't notice how she didn't seem to enjoy it, like his affections where pointless. "Rose," he mumbled, finishing embracing her. "Rose, how are you today?" he inquired, removing his arms from her.
With a sad chuckle, she shrugged. "I'm fine. In fact John, that's why I wanted to see you today."
He raised a brown eyebrow; she had asked him to meet her to tell him that she was fine? "What do you mean?"
She looked at the ground, eyes turning cold with small tears. She had practice this multiple times, so she didn't know why she couldn't go through. She glanced back up at the Scottish man, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I, um, want to break up. I-I just don't see what I saw in you anymore, I'm sorry." By now, pools of salty tears had gathered in her eyes.
John's eyes harden, like the chocolate froze and didn't flow. His smile crept off his face, replaced with a straight face. He nodded solemnly, hands returning to his pockets, like he did when he became sad. "Alright," he said, voice cracking slightly. "Thanks for the great two years I guess," he managed out. "Keep in touch?"
She shook her head, blonde hair traversing to one shoulder. "I don't think so." She didn't need to keep in contact, which might make her break down and cry. She turned on her heel, managing a small and broken "Goodbye John."
He watched her make her way through the crowd, most likely heading home. When she vanished from his sights, he too headed home. He toddled home, looking at his usual red converse on the way, not caring to look up. He was broken hearted. Pain, the emotional kind, entered his mind.
John soon found his way home, to his small apartment. He carried himself up the stairs, stopping at his door. His jiggled his key in the lock, the small click telling him it was safe to come in. Which he did.
He entered, removing his trademark trench coat and hung it up. Next where his shoes. He plopped himself on the floor, leaning against the door. Normally, he got up and wouldn't sit on the floor; though in his current state he could care less. Long and slender fingers tended to his laces, pulling on the ends. The bow crumbled as he tugged. He slipped his fingers under them, loosening them and removing his left shoe. The same process was repeated on the right as he rested the removed shoes by the door.
He raised himself from the floor, grabbing his television remote. He sat himself down on his sofa. He legs hung of the end as brown hair pressed into the cream colored couch. His mind wondered and his vision blurred, he wasn't really in focus. Thoughts raced through his head off nights he shared with Rose, thoughts, secrets, and feelings. He needed to talk to someone, anyone really.
As he grabbed his phone and rolled through the contacts, he found that everyone in there where Rose's friends. Most of them only talked to him because of his relationship with the blonde. John deleted them, as his contacts where reduced into the teens. Some of them where from work, a few where family, they wouldn't care really, so the sad man ruled them out.
There was one contact he could count on, his best friend of sorts. He sent him a message, relaying his break up in a short summary.
From: Jack
Oh man I'm sorry. How you holding up?
The grief stricken man had to laugh a little at Jack. The other man always seemed so caring and cheerful, beneath the stories of sex and copious amounts of drinking. It is one thing he liked about him and he tried to make it up to him, but he shrugged it off, stating how "If my allies are good, than I am."
He sent a simple 'Sad, could you come over?'
This response took a few minutes, with a why. He told him why, how he wanted to talk to someone out loud about it and how he was his only friend really.
Another response. 'Be there soon, maybe half hour.'
He hums slightly, feeling a little better already. Of course, his break up was still striking him in the face like a slap. He turns his attention to the television, eyes hardening again.
The pools are gone, replaced with hard, solid chocolate.
His heavy mind with his thoughts grows heavy, pushing him asleep. His eye lids droop over, they as well becoming heavy. And so he fell asleep like that, legs strewn over the side and face soft.
Later, too early it seemed a knock his heard on the door. He groans, pushing his face into the couch. A low laugh is heard on the other side, a "Come on John."
Said John drags himself off the couch, reaching for the door and opening it slightly, laying back down. Jack can't help, but laugh despite the situation. He always did turn quite childish when saddened. He enters, the cracked open door seeming like invitation to come in.
He takes off his shoes, knowing the brunette's house rules, how he didn't like shoes trekking through his apartment. He makes a few wise remarks like usual, in an attempt to cheer him up. John shouldn't linger on the past, right?
He grumbled at the taller man's remarks, frowning like a child. He turns on his side, head facing away from him. He wants- no needs - the other male to comfort him, but his sadness and despair keeps him from doing so. To feel warmth is what he desires, an embrace from caring arms, but his mind says no. "Nice to see you made it," he mumbled.
Harkness laughed, "Wouldn't leave you when you're down." His friend seems to be changing every second, on minute a small child and the next a hardened man. He has never seen him like this and it hits him how hard the break up must've been on him. He moves towards the couch, shaking his shoulder gently, "You aren't going to sleep on me are you?"
A grumble from the other side answers his question. He tried to rouse the man, telling him that "I'm here to cheer you up!" He made little jokes, one about what does a chipmunk use to build his walls? Walnuts. He tells a story about how he had a threesome once, anything to get John over Rose. He remembers how he was ticklish and devised a plan.
He pulls him over so he is looking at the ceiling and pulls him down so his whole body is situated on the couch. He squeezes himself next to him and the smaller male hummed at the warmth. Jack moved his hands to his stomach and began tickling him.
In turn, he giggled, kicking his legs, feet hitting the armrest. Harkness kept up his antics, hands dancing across his belly. His eyes turned back into their liquid pools, enjoyment lighting up in them.
The amount of warmth that Jack gives him makes him light up, and knows that he doesn't want it to end. The touch and feel makes him forget what happened with Rose.
Jack stops his tickling of his stomach, "See? Better already." The small male huffed at the loss of the touch. He moved down the couch, holding his legs with one arm and tickling his feet with the other.
He shrieks in delight, butterflies forming in his stomach. All he knows is that with Jack, he'd be better before he knew it.
AN:/ Chapter Two might be up tomorrow! Please R&R!