Summary: Jack Harkness is desperate to work but finds the only way he can get a job is in a dress. He meets Ianto Jones. Will true love win out? I have set this in the original time of the film so sexual attitudes reflect that time in the television industry. I have also used the original script but with a few twists.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters as they belong to Russell T Davies and the BBC but I do get to play with them. I also do not own Tootsie which is the property of Sony Pictures and the screenwriters. This is purely for entertainment purposes only.

Notes: This fic is written for reel_torchwood and is based on the film Tootsie.

Chapter 1

Jack Harkness sat in yet another dressing room, preparing for yet another audition. As he applied the glue for the false moustache this part demanded, he thought of the would-be actors in his class; though to be fair, any actor was a would-be actor when over 90% of them were unemployed at the time. The kids in his class were all keen, going through the exercises of mime and voice control. Even Gwen turned up day after day, hoping that what she learnt that day might lead to a part that changed her life. It wasn't that Jack had never acted; he'd done stage, TV and adverts, but there was a problem and it was getting worse; Jack was considered to be difficult. He recalled his recent auditions. He'd been too young or too old or too short or too tall. But Jack wasn't prepared to compromise, despite telling the kids that, 'there was no excuse; you had to work.' So when he was asked to get up to cross to the centre of the stage when playing a dying Tolstoy by a particularly irritating director, his only response had been, 'not with me as Tolstoy!' In the end he'd worked out that no-one was going to employ him because they just wanted, 'someone different.' Luckily, his best friend Tosh was writing a play in which he and Gwen would star. So it would be off, off Broadway; that didn't matter. In the meantime he and Tosh were waiting on tables with others of the resting population of actors in Hollywood, because you had to find ways to work, didn't you?

'Did you rewrite the last scene?' Jack asked Tosh, as they gathered the food for their orders that shift.

'Yeah, 'Tosh replied, 'I rewrote the necktie scene.'

Later they were walking home. 'You rewrote the necktie scene without the necktie?' Jack continued as if it was still hours earlier.

'No, with the necktie.' Jack looked exasperated. 'But the necktie is what's wrong with the scene. Take the necktie out and you've got something.' Tosh sighed. Jack always knew better. This was her play and she'd do it her way.

'What's wrong with you, Jack?' she asked.

'I'll tell you what's wrong,' Jack replied stopping dead and looking at her. 'I hate being disagreed with.' Tosh rolled her eyes, knowing how often they'd reached this stage before.

'I know what it is; today's your birthday and you haven't even mentioned it. Time is slipping by, Jack, and you're not getting any younger.' The petulance leaked out of Jack's face. 'Don't start, I'm a character actor. Age means nothing to me!' Tosh pushed open the door to the stairs. 'Well, instead of being Jack the actor or Jack the waiter, could you just try being Jack the man, for a change?'

'And just who is that?' Jack asked as he pushed open the apartment door and turned on the lights.

'SURPRISE!' greeted him as he did and people raised their glasses shouting happy birthday.

'Oh God,' he thought and then noticed a few good looking people in the room. Some were worth a try; if it breathed Jack would usually try with varying degrees of success. Among the crowd he saw Gwen raise a glass. Poor Gwen Cooper! Jack knew she fancied him but well she really wasn't his type.

'To Jack, who's been my friend for six years,' Gwen began. 'He's a great coach, a great actor and just a great guy and this is a really dumb speech. Let's get drunk!'

The rest of the evening was spent with Jack hitting on anyone who took his fancy, the leggy blonde, the guy with the blue eyes and all the while Gwen tried to attract his attention and make him notice her. At the end of the evening she was more than a little drunk and Jack offered to take her home. They couldn't find a taxi.

'Well it's cheaper to get mugged,' Gwen replied. Jack thought she could sometimes be funny and he put his arm around her. He saw how wound up she was.

'It's this audition tomorrow. I'm never going to get it,' she explained.

'Why what do they want?' he asked.

'A woman!' she replied. Puzzled, Jack agreed to listen to her reading when they got to her apartment.

'You don't have a man so you act like one,' she began.

'What are you trying to show Gwen, I don't get it?' Jack looked at her.

'I'm trying to be angry. This is rage,' Gwen explained.

'Not when you just look like the girl next door it isn't,' he thought. 'That's nothing like rage. You couldn't scare anyone with that.' Looking at him all wide eyed and innocent Jack wondered how the hell he could get her to do this. In the end she got it because he just made her mad enough to take it out on him. Jack found he could make anyone annoyed with him without really trying! It was a gift.

'But the only way I'll do this is if you're there tomorrow to enrage me,' Gwen said. So the next day Jack accompanied Gwen to the audition. She wasn't there long.

'They said I wasn't right physically; they wouldn't even let me read. I'm going home.' Jack looked at her. 'To Wales!' she continued and walked away. However, despite his surprise, Jack had other things on his mind. While at the audition with Gwen he'd heard another actor had got a role he'd expected to be put up for. He was furious as he arrived at his agent's; John Smith, always known as Doc, braced himself when Jack stormed into his office.

'Doc, what the hell's going on? I should have been up for 'The Iceman Cometh.' Why wasn't I given an audition? It's your job to do that, Doc.'

The man in front of him looked over what Jack called his clever specs and replied with sarcasm dripping from his tongue. 'I'm supposed to field offers not find you things,' the Doc explained.

'Field offers? Who are you then Doc, the agent fairy?' Removing his glasses John Smith, who'd been Jack's agent for many years now, replied, 'Pots and kettles, Jack? Don't you understand no-one wants to hire you? When you played a tomato they went over budget because you wouldn't sit down.'

'I was a big beefsteak tomato. Tomatoes don't move so how could I sit. You know I can play vegetables, Doc. I played an endive salad that knocked the critics on their asses.'

'You're not listening, Jack. You're too much trouble. Get some therapy, please. NO ONE WILL HIRE YOU!'

With that a thought suddenly appeared fully formed in Jack's mind. Thirty minutes later he was walking down the high street, swaying slightly from side to side. Red wig, heavy foundation, a conservative, paisley blouse, brown mid-calf length skirt finished off with brown low heeled boots made up his costume. He looked at himself in the shop windows. 'It works,' he thought. He needed a name, a good, solid old-fashioned name.

'Harriet Jackson,' the receptionist called and Jack, realising that was now him, joined the others. On the set he was brought before the director, John Hart. He was well known in Hollywood. He would sleep with anyone and Jack knew it as he appraised the man. He was good looking, yes and had that aura of power, but there was something sleazy about him that Jack found repellent. Still, he needed the work to do Tosh's play.

'This is Harriet Jackson, Doc Smith is her agent.' John Hart looked him up and down. Jack had never felt more self conscious in his life. 'Had he picked the right outfit?'

'Hey honey, I'm afraid you're not right for this role,' he heard John Hart say. Sticking out his lower lip and ample bosom, Jack replied, 'Why am I not right for the role, Mr Hart?'

'I'm just trying to make a certain statement with this part and I'm looking for a specific physical type,' Hart responded, turning away.

'Mr Hart, I'm a character actress. I can play this part any way you want.' Jack was determined not to let this go.

Turning back Hart continued. 'You're just not threatening enough!' Jack felt that familiar anger rise inside him. He responded as Hart put his hand around his waist to guide him out, stopping suddenly.

'Not threatening enough, hmmm.' Jack pulled away. 'Take your hands off me or I'll knee you in the balls.' He raised his knee as if to do so and smiled inwardly as Hart grabbed himself to protect the part of his anatomy that he loved the most. 'Is that enough of a threat for you then?'

Hart gulped and suddenly everyone in the room, including the producer, Martha Jones, had stopped to watch. Jack realised he had the floor now; this was going to be his audition. He took a deep breath and continued, 'I think I know what you want. You want a caricature of a woman to prove power makes women masculine.' Jack looked deliberately at the producer. 'Shame on you! Shame on any woman that lets you do that! And that means you dear! Shame on you, you macho shithead! Now control it, Jack,' he thought and stalked to the lift, just checking to see that Martha Jones was following him.

'Miss Jackson. Was that for real or were you auditioning?' Martha asked.

'Which will get me the audition?'

Ten minutes later Jack was back in the studio. Feeling rather nervous he dropped the script. The pages scattered across the studio floor. Gathering them together, he looked up and met a pair of grey/blue eyes which were part of a simply gorgeous face and topped an amazing body. Jack felt a fluttering in his stomach. He mumbled a thanks. 'Sorry just nervous about the cameras I guess.' The vision opened his mouth and Jack thought he had died and gone to heaven when he heard that accent.

'Just think of them as something friendly,' the vision advised about the cameras, 'like a firing squad!' Jack lowered his glasses to watch the most perfect ass he had ever seen walk away from him. 'Just who was this gorgeous creature in front of him?' he wondered before reading for the part again and maintaining the threatening attitude Hart had provoked.

'There's something about the way she delivers it,' Martha said. The producer and director looked at each other while each considered her for a moment. 'I gave her that direction,' Hart said.

'I like her' Martha said. 'Ms Jackson we'll send the contract over to the Doc immediately.'

'Shit,' Jack thought to himself he needed to see the Doc right now. As he walked to surprise the Doc, he realised that, in those few minutes, his life had changed. He'd met the man of his dreams and he'd won a leading part in a soap. There was only one problem, how the hell was he going to get away with it!