Here ya go! ^^

PLEASE R&R! *begs* :P

Gluttony

"Ahh – I've eaten too much."

"Well, that was inevitable. That was the whole point, you know."

"Yeah, but it's not something I do, Jack. It's not… me."

"Me neither. But this was your idea, Doctor. Why on earth did you pick the Seven Deadly Sins, of all the things that you could've–? Did you even notice the word 'Deadly' in the title? I thought we steered clear of that."

"What? Me? Steer clear of 'Deadly'?! You don't know me well enough, Jack!"

Jack sighed, smiling, picking at a buffalo wing. The Doctor licked his fingers, then wiped his hands and face with a napkin. Why had he picked the Seven Deadly Sins? A slight slip of the conscious mind, maybe. Or maybe he just wanted to shake things up a little. He didn't know where this was going, but it was already fun. He'd learnt a bit about Jack already, too. He'd never known he liked bananas, for instance. Or buffalo wings. He liked buffalo wings as well. Maybe they had more in common than he thought.

The Doctor waved down a waiter, who topped up his goblet of …was this fruit juice? Oh, what the hell. It tasted nice.

Jack groaned, leaning forward on his elbows, one hand around his middle. "Can't… eat… any more. You can't make me... Ughhh."

The Doctor smiled, patting Jack's arm gently. He could smell the marmalade pudding approaching. He'd not smelt marmalade pudding that good since a Mr Clive Staples Lewis had kindly shared – "inspiration for a book" or something. One forgets.

As a large plate was set down between him and Jack, they both grabbed a fork and began shovelling it into their mouths. It was steamy, squishy, and moist – delicious. The Doctor gave a small whine at the tangy, sweet and utterly exquisite taste that exploded in his mouth; Jack did the same, licking residue off his fork, eyes closed in total appreciation.

Mouth full, Jack mumbled, "We are so gonna get fat, doing this."

"Mmph. I never get fat, not in this body," the Doctor replied, chewing at the side of his mouth to talk.

Jack grinned, trying to keep his lips together to stop the pudding falling out. The Doctor smiled back, amused by the image. Swallowing, he reached again for the glass of fruit juice. He drank, setting the glass back down. No matter how nice this pudding was, no matter how fat he wouldn't get – the Doctor just couldn't eat another bite.

The rest of the people at the table (a collection of rather plump Lords and Ladies, presently stuffing their faces) continued to eat in their quaff-like manner, spills of food and drink splattered down their 16th-century-styled silken clothes. Looking at them, Jack felt quite sickened. Nauseous, even. He had to get out of there.

He stood, almost knocking the bench to the floor in his haste. The Doctor nodded to him, rising and stumbling out from behind his own bench. They followed the waiter to the door, who then opened it for them, giving them directions to the exit.

As soon as they got outside, clear air filling their lungs, Jack spoke. "Let's never go to a banquet again."

"Fine by me. Ugh," the Doctor added, bending over his knees for support.

"Mmm. Nice food though," Jack remarked, taking deep breaths.

"Yeah, but I'm tired, now. I don't get tired often." And then, just to emphasise his point, he gave a great yawn, which Jack echoed, just as drowsy.

"Let's go somewhere. It's almost night; I'm sure somewhere will be open now."

"No, not a hotel. Let's go somewhere… less..." he yawned again, unable to finish his sentence.

The Doctor was about to speak, opening his mouth – but instead let out another yawn. He waved his hand in front of his face, trying to get more air.

"Doctor? Let's… just…" he pointed to a pile of hay on the back of a horse-cart. God, that looked comfy.

"O-okay. It'll have..." – he yawned – "…moved by the morning; I know how these things work."

"Don't… care. Just… wanna… sleep." Jack was struggling to keep his eyes open now, stumbling over the cobblestones to the cart. He clambered in, kneeling to remove his greatcoat, then lying down and covering himself with it like a blanket. The hay was fresh, spiking Jack against his arms and face, but he was too tired to complain. He felt the cart rock a little as the Doctor lay down beside him, taking his own coat off and wrapping it around himself. They lay together, Jack asleep as soon as he'd smiled at the Doctor. Watching Jack lose consciousness so quickly made the Doctor smile even more, and he reached out to stroke his hair. He was like a faithful dog, so utterly adorable. Yet… he didn't feel that way about him – he loved him – but not in a "man's best friend" way. He felt more than that. It felt odd to be thinking about it. He'd never thought about it before.

Rescuing all those planets, all the people; being together in times of great need – it brought them together, and the Doctor had never had a friend as close as Jack was. But just doing this, just messing around – the Seven Deadly Sins, for God's sake – he felt closer than ever. And… he wanted to be closer.

Perhaps… literally.

The Doctor shuffled towards Jack, dropping his hand from his hair. His hair was so soft, so warm. He pressed their bodies together, pulling hay behind him for support. He let his eyes drift over Jack's features, brushing his fingers over the stubble that shadowed his jaw line. He was so beautiful. The word didn't seem enough, and it never would be.

His mind lingered on Jack's face, even after his eyes closed. He would always remember that picture. He could never forget.

And here's a nice little reminder, in case you forgot: R&R!!!

Next up: Avarice! :)