Title: Bedsocks, Chi-vores and Urban Legends

Author: Flurblewig

Pairing: Jack/Gwen/Rhys

Rating: PG13

Timeline/Spoilers: Post Something Borrowed

Length:2,445 words

Disclaimer:Not mine. We all know that.

Prompt: Jack turns up as a guest at the hotel/resort where Gwen and Rhys are staying on honeymoon, supposedly on the trail of an alien. Does he have an ulterior motive? Of course he bloody does

A/N: Unbeta'd piece of lighthearted fun. Crit weclome

Rhys stuffs his and Gwen's rucksacks, only just within the size allowed for hand luggage, in the overhead locker. On the seat is a folded blanket in polythene wrapping and a little vinyl drawstring bag of treasures: notebook and pen, eye mask, tiny toothbrush and the all-important furry flight socks. Gwen loves those, takes them home and uses them as bedsocks in the winter. He approves: it saves him taking the brunt of those ice-bucket feet. And there's something strangely erotic about the sight of a naked woman in nothing but little woolly socks.

He gives Gwen's thigh a squeeze, pulls the packet of socks out of the bag and tucks them into his jacket pocket, then drops the bag under the seat. 'Excuse me, miss,' he calls to the blue-uniformed blonde across the aisle, 'but do you think we could have some champagne? We're celebrating, see?'

The woman--girl, really, she can't be more than twenty, if that--turns and her slightly harried expression softens as Gwen waggles her left hand, showing off the ring.

'I'll see what I can do, Sir,' she says, smiling, 'as soon as we're in the air.' She has a nice smile and a slight French accent.

Gwen leans in close to Rhys. 'Champagne? It's five past six in the morning. She's going to think we're a couple of winos.'

'What's the matter, you never heard of a champagne breakfast? And anyway, six o'clock here means it's just gone midnight, in Mexico. And they do say you're supposed to get adjusted to the local time as soon as possible. So it's breakfast, and it's a nightcap, and it's our bloody honeymoon. I think that justifies a glass of bubbly, don't you?'

'Well, I suppose, if you put it like that...' She grins, settles back in her seat and picks up the in-flight magazine.

Rhys fumbles in his jeans pocket, pulls out the page he'd ripped out of the brochure and smooths it out on his knee. Gwen looks over and smiles. 'It's going to be brilliant, Rhys.'

'I know it is. And do you know what the best bit's going to be?'

'The in-room jacuzzi and the free booze?'

'Better than that.'

She thinks about it. 'The wedding present Ianto got us? I packed some extra batteries in the suitcase.'

Rhys's eyes unfocus for a second. 'Okay,' he says. 'The second best bit, then.'

Gwen smiles and shakes her head. 'No, go on, what?'

Rhys closes his eyes for a second and gives her a beatific smile. 'No work, no phones, no Torchwood, no aliens. No Jack Harkness. A whole week, just the two of us, with no Jack bloody Harkness within a thousand miles. I tell you, Gwen, I cannot wait. And did I mention the no Jack Harkness part?'

Gwen pats his arm and giggles. 'Oh, you know, you shouldn't say that, it's like tempting fate. It's probably like that film we saw that time, say his name three times and he appears.'

Rhys gives a little shudder. 'That's not funny, Gwen.'

'Sir?'

Rhys looks up to see the blonde attendant from earlier, carrying two champagne flutes. He sits upright and takes them with a smile, holding his out to Gwen. 'Well,' he says. 'We made it.'

She clinks her glass against his. 'To us. Making it.' She winks at him, and takes a sip.

The blonde is still hovering. 'Excuse me, are you Mr and Mrs Williams?'

Gwen gives a little beam of pride that makes Rhys's heart turn over. 'Yes,' she says. 'Mr and Mrs Williams, that's us.'

The blonde straightens up and beckons down the aisle behind her. Gwen cranes her neck to see, then snaps back facing front again, her eyes wide. She glances at the glass in her hand then drains the whole lot in one go.

'Steady on, Gwen, there's--' Rhys breaks off as the attendant steps aside to make room for someone else. A very tall, very familiar someone else. Rhys groans, a broken sound, and glares furiously at Gwen.

She shoots the look straight back at him. 'What? I'm not the one who just brought him here with a summoning spell.' She leans forward. 'What's going on, Jack? You can't be here. You cannot be on this plane.'

Jack squats down beside their seats. 'I just got word, from an international source. They've been tracking a UMA, and it's fetched up in Cancun. They've requested assistance.'

'UMA?'

'Unidentified Mysterious Animal. They're calling it a chupacabra, but it sounds to me like one of the indigenous quadrupeds of Thelaxiarisus Five. Dangerous, but can be handled if you know what you're doing. Which of course is where Torchwood comes in.'

'In Cancun?' Rhys says. 'This abracadabra thing just happens to turn up right in our resort?'

'Chupacabra. And yeah, how about that? Serendipity in action, huh?'

'I'll show you my fist in action if you don't--'

Gwen lays her hand on his arm. 'Jack, listen. Listen to me. This is my honeymoon. You cannot send me on assignment on my honeymoon. No way, Jack.'

He nods. 'You're right, you're absolutely right. That would be horribly insensitive, and I wouldn't dream of it.'

Gwen relaxes her hold on Rhys. 'Okay then,' she says cautiously. 'So--'

'So that's why I'm coming with you.' Jack stands up and beams at them. 'I'm in first class, see you when we land.'

The Moon Palace, Rhys has to admit, is everything the enthusiastic girl at the travel agent's promised. Private balcony with ocean view, check. Double jacuzzi, check. Mini-bar stocked with freebies, check. Swim-up bars, golf course, scuba diving, check.

And then, of course, there's the little hidden extras not in the brochure.

One Captain Jack Harkness with apparently all-over tan and swimming trunks that take up less surface area than his sunglasses? Also check.

Rhys throws a beach towel over him. 'I thought you and that coat were surgically attached. But if you think I'm going to be seen out with you dressed--and I'm using that word in the very loosest possible sense--like that, then--'

'Chill out,' Jack says, leaving him spluttering. 'This is all part of the plan.' He runs a hand over his body. 'My skin's been treated with a solution of cartesian particles, which has the useful double function of being an attractant to the beast and a locational device that ties in to the miniature computer processor built into the screen of the sunglasses. Some of Toshiko's finest work.' He puts them on and strolls into the bedroom to admire himself in the mirror. 'Hey, nice room. I've always liked honeymoon suites. I think it's the oversized beds. Very inspiring.'

Rhys bares his teeth. 'I don't want you being... inspired... by anything of mine. Or hers,' he adds, as Gwen comes out of the bathroom in a two-piece swimsuit. 'There will be no inspiring of anything whatsoever by anybody, are we clear?'

Jack just grins. 'Come on, take your clothes off already. We've got work to do.'

Gwen ties a sarong around her waist while Rhys reluctantly trades his jeans for shorts. 'So what's the plan, Jack?'

Jack sits on the edge of the bed and bounces a little. 'Good firm mattress you've got here. Right, yes, the plan. Well, the Thelaxiarisusians are what we call chi-vores--like carnivores, except they eat energy instead of meat. And on Thelaxiarisus Five, they really like one particular kind of energy. It's why humans are one of their favourite dishes.'

'What's that, then?'

'Sexual energy.'

Rhys pauses in the act of shoving his feet into flip-flops. 'Sexual energy,' he repeats.

'Yup. So the whole sun, sand and sea thing is an ideal hunting ground for them. And since us humans just can't get enough of it, they can't get enough of us.'

Rhys lets his head drop. 'I don't believe this. I just do not believe it.'

Jack gets up and throws an arm around Rhys's shoulders. He smells of warm coconut oil. 'Come on, Victor Meldrew, lighten up. You get to keep the world safe for humanity while strutting your-- if I may say, very fine--funky stuff on a white sand beach with a beer in your hand. So, what do you say? Ready to save the world?'

Rhys grumbles a bit more for form's sake, but allows himself to be pulled out of the room. They head out towards the bar, heads turning from all angles as they pass. Rhys sucks in his stomach a little as Gwen pats him lightly on the arse. 'Very fine,' she whispers. 'And Jack should know, after all.'

Rhys gets a Corona and something tall and frothy with a straw and a paper umbrella for Gwen. Jack gets a bottle of mineral water and the cocktail waiter's phone number. The beach is quite crowded, and there are no sun loungers left unoccupied. Gwen throws their towels down onto the sand while Jack puts his sunglasses on and slowly turns in a circle. 'He's just showing off now,' Rhys hisses.

Gwen shades her eyes. 'Anything, Jack?'

He fiddles with the glasses. 'I'm not sure... wait... yes, I think so. Yes. I've got it. Okay, we're going to have to control its approach, make sure that nobody else gets caught in its path. We need to bring it straight to us, lure it into a trap.'

'And how do we do that?' Rhys asks, uncomfortably sure that he knows what the answer is going to be.

Jack's look confirms it. 'Bait,' he says. 'We give it what it wants.'

No,' Rhys says, shaking his head. 'No way. ' I'm not going to be generating any sexual energy on a crowded beach, Jack. That is not going to happen. Not even to save the world.'

Jack looks around. 'Spoilsport. Okay, I've got an idea. Follow me.'

He strides off, leaving Rhys and Gwen to scramble after him. He walks straight into the sea, lets out a whoop and ducks under the water. 'Come on in,' he shouts as they stand hesitantly on the edge of the waves. 'The water's lovely.'

Rhys looks at Gwen, who shrugs. 'I've had worse assignments,' she says, and wades in. Rhys closes his eyes, offers a quick prayer to whatever gods might be happening to look down, and follows her.

The water, to his surprise, is lovely: warm and buoyant. Gwen giggles and splashes him, soaking his hair. He flicks it out of his eyes and returns the favour, and she shrieks. He grabs her and pulls her close, relishing the feel of her body against his. She jumps into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. He overbalances and they both go over, laughing and spluttering. He inhales seawater and chokes, struggling to right himself as a wave lifts and rolls him. Hands reach down to help--rather too many hands, he thinks--and straighten him up. He gasps for air and tries to orient himself, which is harder than it should be because some of those hands have gone south, sliding down his body and caressing it along with the waves. He gasps again, for slightly different reasons, and takes in another mouthful of water. He spits it out, and Gwen's tongue licks the salt from his lips. 'Happy honeymoon,' she says, and he gurgles something incoherent in response.

She reaches behind his head and pulls his mouth to hers, while strong arms slide around him from behind and another body is pressed to his. He tries to struggle but Gwen's tongue is insistent and so are the other hands that are reaching around him and sliding inside the shorts that suddenly feel so very, very restrictive. 'It's for the safety of humanity,' a voice whispers in his ear, but Rhys finds that somehow, he no longer cares.

It takes a further three days and twenty or so sessions of energy-generation before Jack is satisfied that they've successfully disarmed the alien creature. 'We overloaded its food processing centre,' he informs them. 'Just burnt it right out.'

'Pretty much how I feel,' Rhys says, rubbing his aching thigh muscles. 'Are you double jointed or something, Jack?'

'Or something,' Jack agrees, pulling on a pair of jeans. 'Stay there, I'll go and get some provisions.' He pauses at the door, blows both of them a kiss and slips outside.

Gwen gets up and picks up the sunglasses that he's left on the table. She twirls them around, taps them and puts them on, preening herself in the mirror.

'They're just sunglasses, aren't they?' Rhys says, from the bed. 'Not a miniature computer.'

Gwen puts them back. ' Just sunglasses,' she confirms.

'And there's no alien beasties, is there?'

She shakes her head.

'We've been had, haven't we?'

She laughs, and jumps back into the bed. 'In more ways than even I thought possible.'

The door opens and Jack appears, carrying a paper bag. He tips it out onto the sheet, a cascade of chocolate bars going everywhere. 'Sugar,' he says. 'Keeps the energy levels up.'

Rhys grabs a Hershey's bar. 'But I thought it was mission accomplished?'

'Yeah,' Jack says, 'about that.' He picks up the sunglasses and moves his head as if reading something. 'Bad news, I'm afraid. I've just had a report that the rest of the herd are moving in. Another six or seven of them, for sure.' He takes off the glasses and faces them, hands on hips. 'It might take a few more days to wrap this up, after all.'

Rhys looks at Gwen, who covers a smile with her hand. He nods towards the phone. 'You'd better call down to room service. We're going to need more chocolate.'

'So,' Gwen calls from the bedroom, 'how was it, love, first day back at work?'

'Oh, you know, mountains of paperwork and nothing's been done.' Rhys picks up his toothbrush and runs it under the tap. 'You?'

'Yeah, not much different. There were three new Weevils that nobody had processed, and five sightings of Bigfoot just outside Penarth.'

He glances through the doorway to see her stretched out on the bed, admiring her blue woolly bedsocks. 'Come on,' she calls, 'hurry up, it's getting cold out here. Compared to Cancun, anyway.'

He stares at his reflection in the mirror, thoughtfully. He knows it's just a bit of nonsense, just an urban legend, but...

'Jack Harkness, Jack Harkness, Jack Harkness,' he whispers.

And smiles, as Gwen's phone begins to ring.

-End-