A/N: i don't know where this idea came from, but I had to write it. Don't hate me! This takes place while Jack is stranded on the island for the first time, when Barbossa takes the pearl to get that lovely cursed Aztec gold. It also takes place after Doctor Who's "The Parting of the Ways."

Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or Pirates of the Carribean

Not Quite Deserted

Jack Sparrow tipped his head back and tilted the bottle over his mouth, waiting for the glorious taste of rum to fill his mouth. The bottle, however, was empty. "Damn it!" Jack grumbled, tossing the empty bottle aside. How could he bear being trapped on a deserted island without rum? He lifted his eyes to the sky and tossed his hands in the air, kicking up some sand in the process.

"Why is the rum always gone?!" he shouted.

"Maybe it's because you keep drinking it," a voice replied. Jack raised an eyebrow at the drifting clouds. He pointed an accusatory finger at the blue sky, narrowing his eyes in annoyance.

"Yer not supposed to be up there, Savvy?" he mumbled. "It's rhetorical."

"Well, I apologize," the voice said, and Jack jumped as the bottle he had tossed aside moments earlier fell to the sand next to him. "Then that'll give you your answer, I presume," the voice concluded. Jack kept his gaze on the sky, trying to puzzle out who it was he was talking to, and he barely glanced as two boot-clad feet stepped up next to him.

It took a few moments for the sight to register, and Jack whipped his head back around to look at the boots. Gray pants obscured the top of the boots, and a long blue coat fell to where those tops would be. Jack slowly raised his gaze, taking in the tall man standing beside him. Hope rose in his chest: he had a way of this wretched island.

"Where's your ship, mate?" Jack queried, standing as best he could. He swayed on his feet and the other man quickly caught him by the elbow.

"Ship?" he queried. Jack noted his odd accent, and the stripes adorning his coat. He was obviously military, but none that Jack had ever encountered. The sun glinted off of something on the man's wrist, and Jack blinked away the pain from his headache and squinted at the object to get a closer look. It was metal and had what looked like a watch-face in the center of the band.

The other man followed Jack's gaze and quickly stuffed his hand into his pocket, hiding his wrist and the object from view. He let go of Jack's elbow and shook the sleeve of his coat over his other wrist. Jack took an unsteady step towards him, intending to prod his chest while giving him a piece of his mind, but instead lost his balance and fell into the other man.

He chuckled as he caught Jack around the waist, and when Jack looked up into his face he saw that their lips were only inches apart. He swallowed as the smile on the man's face fell to a more serious expression and he began to lower his head, by centimeters, towards Jack's.

Jack pushed away from him violently and fell to the ground. He sat there stunned, his legs sprawled out in front of him and his hands pressed into the sand to hold him up. The man shrugged and sat down next to Jack.

"Sitting works," he said. "Seeing as you have no sense of balance."

"Who are you, mate?" Jack queried, inching carefully away from the man. The man smiled and wrapped his arms around his knees, hardly noticing Jack's wariness.

"Captain Jack Harkness," the man replied. Jack stopped moving away and stared at the man incredulously.

"You're kidding!" Jack finally announced, and continued his effort to get as far from Captain Harkness as possible.

"I'm not," Jack said. "Who're you?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow," Jack replied. The other man nodded.

"It's nice to meet you," he said. Jack scoffed a little, but stopped inching away from the man.

"Well, mate, where's your ship?" Jack repeated. The man raised a confused eyebrow at him, then shook his head.

"What ship?" he queried.

"The one you got here on, mate," Jack explained. "You don't expect me to believe you just fell from the sky, do you?"

"Well, not quite," Harkness replied, toying with the hem of his left coat sleeve. He sighed. "How'd you get here?" he asked.

"My mutinous first mate decided to relieve me of my command," Jack spat. "So he marooned me on this god forsaken piece of dirt."

"That has a distinct lack of rum," Harkness added. Jack nodded his agreement.

"Why're you here, then?" Jack queried. He moved a little closer to the other man, his eyes never leaving Harkness' face.

"Just passing through," Harkness replied. Jack rolled his eyes.

"How do you intend to 'pass through' without a ship about?" he asked. The other man laughed and leaned closer to Jack, brushing his lips against the man's ear as he whispered his response.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" was all he said. Jack pulled back slightly, searching the other man's eyes. Their noses brushed against each other and a shiver ran through Jack's body. As his eyes flicked back and forth between the other man's, Harkness was leaning forward slowly.

He brushed his lips against Jack's for a moment, then pulled back. Jack's eyes had fallen closed and he opened them halfway as the warmth of Harkness' lips left his own. Jack swallowed as the other man closed the distance again, and this time pressed his lips to Jack's. Jack let his mouth open as it was captured in the kiss, his tongue met the other man's as hands slid up to hold his waist. His own hands he tangled in Harkness' hair and trailed over his neck.

They parted for a moment, gasping for breath. Harkness leaned his forehead against Jack's, catching the man's gaze, and a grin grew on his face; Jack couldn't help but smile as well. The silence between them lasted only for a moment before Harkness once again leaned in and captured Jack's lips with his own.

This kiss was deeper, more passionate, as Harkness laid Jack down on the sand and slipped his hand up Jack's shirt. Jack moaned as delicate fingers traced circles on his skin. He let his own hands venture to Harkness' shoulders, and he proceeded to push the coat from the other man's body. Harkness pulled away for a moment to toss the coat aside, and as his lips again returned to Jack's, he let his fingers play at the other man's buttons.

Jack's shirt fell open and Harkness' hands played across his chest. Jack moaned and fumbled with Harkness' buttons as the other man moved from his mouth to trail kisses down his neck and then across his chest. Jack arched his back as Harkness' tongue played across his nipples, first left then right, and then as lips pressed against his neck and up his chin to recapture his mouth.

As Harkness' shirt finally came undone, a loud beeping sound reached Jack's ears. The other man pulled away quickly, sitting up and looking at a rather strange object adorning his left wrist. It was different than the one Jack had seen, the strap holding it on wasn't metal and the face was obviously not that of a watch.

"Not now," Harkness muttered, pushing buttons on the object. Jack raised an eyebrow.

"What is it, mate?" he queried. Harkness looked up at him, sorrow in his eyes.

"I have to go," he said, standing. Jack stood as well as Harkness grabbed his coat from the sand and quickly pulled it on.

"What're you talking about?" he demanded. "There's no way off this island." The other man gazed at him, his eyes sad. He stepped forward and wrapped his arm around Jack's waist, pressing their lips together for a final kiss.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and stepped away. He pushed a button on the object on his wrist and a glowing mist enveloped him. In a moment he was gone and Jack again found himself alone on a deserted island without enough rum. He sat down hard in the sand, lifting his fingers to trail them lightly over his lips. He let his tongue dart from his mouth, tasting Captain Jack Harkness' lingering flavour.

It was better than rum.