Disclaimer- I do not have the pleasure of owning Torchwood. If I did, there would be less aliens and more beautiful Welsh vowels. As you can tell by the aliens, the BBC has the honour of owning the show.
Spoilers- None- for once this is absolutely, completely and utterly AU
Rating- T (Haven't quite decided what to do if I end up writing a few M scenes; but thank you all for the feedback, I really appreciate it)
General Notes- This will be the last update for a couple of days- I'm away 'til Sunday and not sure if/when I'll have time to write or post. Hopefully it's good enough to last you 'til then! Thank you all for continuing to read and review; I hope this answers some of your questions about the method behind the apparent madness.
Chapter Notes- I hope you appreciate the email addresses, it took forever to edit them so that you could actually see them! (My own stupidity, but meh). And the formatting in the first email looks so much better on word *pouts*. Anyways, third time lucky on the uploading... *crosses fingers*
Post-It Count: 30
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Interruptions
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From: jharkness(at)torchwood(.)net
To: welsh_coffee_boy(at)gmail(.)com
Sent: 06 December 2009 10:08:37
Subject: Potential Misunderstanding
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Dear Mr Jones,
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It would appear that one of two eventualities has occurred:
a) You did not take to heart my words last night about not sleeping together until the seventh date.
b) You heeded my words, and are in fact trying to kill me.
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In the hope that the former is the case and the latter never comes to pass, I am writing to present you with some information which you may find useful. Please consider the following carefully.
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7 Reasons the 7 Date Rule rocks:
1) Anticipation. Trust me, I speak from experience. There is nothing on this earth hotter than sex after a brief period of planned abstinence.
2) You can relax on the first six dates without having to worry about your performance in the bedroom department. (By the seventh date, you'll be so horny you'll be long past concern.)
3) You really know your man by the time you sleep with him- and the sex is better because you have formed an emotional connection.
4) Of course, on the off chance the sex isn't fabulous, you'll be comfortable enough with one another to discuss it, so it won't ruin the relationship your seven dates have established.
5) It gives you plenty of time to book in your STI and HIV tests. The best sex is safe sex. (Mostly because I don't practice any other kind.)
6) Patience and endurance are wonderfully attractive character traits.
7) It's a fabulous source for private jokes. (Ok, so my inspiration is wearing a little thin here. But at least that should prove I've never sent this email before. The first five points are incredibly pertinent though.)
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However, because I am nothing if not a fair man, I will consent to counterbalance the above argument with the following:
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One Big Reason the Rule Sucks:
1) You are an incredibly, incredibly attractive man. My willpower is definitely going to be put to the test. (But don't worry, I'm man enough to take it.)
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Thank you for taking the time to read the above. I hope it clears up one or two points.
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Sincerely,
Jack Harkness, esquire.
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From: welsh_coffee_boy(at)gmail(.)com
To: jharkness(at)torchwood(.)net
Sent: 06 December 2009 10:21:19
Subject: Is that so?
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Dear Mr Harkness,
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Read and noted. Just think of it as about three weeks of foreplay. Ok. I can do that.
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Sincerely,
Ianto Jones, esquire.
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P.S. Vain, much?
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P.P.S. You are correct, Sir. It is one big reason to hate the rule, if I do say so myself. Again, I have references.
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From: jharkness(at)torchwood(.)net
To: welsh_coffee_boy(at)gmail(.)com
Sent: 06 December 2009 10:25:52
Subject: Definite Misunderstanding
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Ok, I was mistaken. You are trying to kill me.
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From: welsh_coffee_boy(at)gmail(.)com
To: jharkness(at)torchwood(.)net
Sent: 06 December 2009 10:28:03
Subject: Puh-leaze
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Why not just man up and admit that you were wrong?
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P.S. Can you think of a better way to go?
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From: jharkness(at)torchwood(.)net
To: welsh_coffee_boy(at)gmail(.)com
Sent: 06 December 2009 10:31:12
Subject: Never!
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I'm never wrong.
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N.B. I always fancied something creative; stray javelin?
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From: jharkness(at)torchwood(.)net
To: welsh_coffee_boy(at)gmail(.)com
Sent: 06 December 2009 10:33:42
Subject: Phone Calls Save Lives
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And I'm the Queen of Sheba.
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I'm sure that can be arranged. Though I still think sex is a better exit that sports. But I do believe that sooner or later you will incur the creative curtain you crave when Gwen beats you to death with a rolling pin. You didn't specify precisely when your creative exit should be, but I'm assuming you don't want it to be too soon. For that reason, you should keep calling me. You know what nearly happened when you tried not to. And the kisses were worth it, don't you think? And they were just kisses- imagine the buzz you'd get from the rest…
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Actually, Jack had no desire to imagine the buzz he would get from the rest. He was already up and dressed, and really couldn't be bothered with stripping for a cold shower. Focusing his thoughts on blood and gore, he opened a new email and paused for a second, waiting for inspiration to strike. Instead, his ringtone struck his ears and he abandoned his quest for a witty retort in favour of answering the phone.
"Hello?"
"Oh good, you're in. Listen, Jack, I have a meeting with my editor tomorrow wherein I'm going to have to convince her that you really are the best choice for next issue's celebrity interview. So it would really help if I can confirm your willingness to discuss certain topics…"
Jack grinned. "Pre-empted you there, SJ! I've already discussed it with my man. I'm willing to talk about my love life in general terms, but I'm not naming any names."
"And off the record…?" The American could practically smell Sarah Jane's curiosity. He grinned.
"Off the record, I'll parade him in front of you in London- I'm giving him a lift down because he wants to see an old friend. Absolutely no cameras though; he hates publicity."
"Of course. I'll look forward to meeting him. Anyone who can put up with you for an extended period of time has got to be worth gawping at."
150 miles away from the journalist, the model pouted.
"Ok, I have seriously got to replace my current bunch of friends for a set of people who are actually nice to me."
"I thought that people who are nice to you annoy you? 'Let me open that door for you, Jack.' 'I'll carry that for you, Jack.' 'Oh, thank you so much, Jack!' 'I hero-worship you with knobs on, Jack! And even though I've never met you before in my life I've seen your picture in a magazine so I'm going to subvert the natural bounds of politeness and pretend to be your best friend and gush at you all day long never ever ever finding fault, Jack…"
"Ok, ok, enough!" Jack sank down onto the sofa, exhausted by the sheer speed of Sarah Jane's attack. "You're right; I love you really."
"Good. Now, what about more serious and thought-provoking topics? You know I hate doing wishy-washy 'how's your career and your love life? Fine? Oh, fabulous- see you next year' type interviews."
Jack didn't even need to pause to consider- he'd done a lot of thinking as he'd made breakfast that morning. "I'm willing to speak out about the dangers of drugs. John won't want his name in the press, but I know he won't mind me discussing it. Oh, and of course, I'm openly gay and proud- isn't that enough of a controversial topic? I really don't want to get started on politics or whether I believe in aliens or anything like that."
He was treated to a painfully rare laugh from the journalist. "I find it interesting that you lump those two issues in the same sentence- can it be possible that you share my theory that our Prime Minister is an alien?"
Jack raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, but Harold Saxon just appears to be too perfect to be human." He paused for a split second, a sudden thought striking him. "Mind you, so does Ianto. Oh my god, I'm screwing an alien!"
"Can I put that in my briefing notes?" He could hear Sarah Jane's smile down the phone, and chuckled.
"Be my guest. But remember, if you get me locked up by the men in white coats, you've lost your interview."
"Damn, best not then. Right, to clarify- you'll talk about your love life, but no specifics of your current partner; you'll talk about drugs; and you'll talk about your sexuality- but not your predilection for aliens."
Jack couldn't help but chuckle. "That is correct." Even though she couldn't see him, he nodded. "And then when we're done with the interview, we should drag Ianto and his 'old friend' out for dinner in the evening."
"Sounds good; I'll have to sort something out for Luke though."
"Why not bring him with you?"
The journalist's laugh drifted back to him. "He's only fourteen, Captain. I'm trying to protect him from prolonged exposure to your constant innuendo 'til he's at least past the age of consent."
The model pouted. "Oi, I'll have you know I'm a model uncle!"
"But in which sense do you mean that?"
The pout grew. "Oh, well, if you're going to get clever with me…"
"Is that a threat, Captain?"
In the second that he paused to think of a smart reply (damn, he was going to have to get quicker at that if he was to withstand duels of wit with Ianto!) the American's concentration was disrupted by a background noise.
"No, it's the doorbell," he responded distractedly, earning himself another pretty laugh.
"Well, I'll leave you in peace to answer it… Ooh, before I go, one last thing- if push comes to shove, I may need an ace up my sleeve-"
Jack grinned and cut across, knowing exactly where this sentence was leading. "As long as I get to keep underwear on, I'll be photographed in any decadent state of undress you need to get your article passed."
"Thank you so much, Jack!"
"Anytime. And stop gushing, you're supposed to be my grounded, cynical fangirl!"
He could almost hear the eyebrow raise he got in response. "Girl is pushing it a little, I feel. But go- answer the door before Gwen produces her magic rolling pin and beats you to death with it."
"Can't be having that now, can we?" the model joked as he took a token step in the direction of the door. "I'll see you Thursday, have a good week."
"You too. Au revoir, Captain."
"À bientôt, Miss Smith."
Tossing the receiver onto the sofa, he headed for the door with more purpose, grinning as he noted that the doorbell had stopped, and instead his caller was knocking out the tune of 'All By Myself' (a feat which was impressive in itself, considering that 'All By Myself' isn't the easiest tune to tap.)
"Trying to give me a message?" he demanded as he yanked open the door, grinning as Gwen practically fell through it.
"About bloody time!" she groused, pushing past him to the kitchen, where she dumped a deli bag on the table and began fishing for plates. "I come bearing lunch."
This addition was slightly unnecessary- as soon as he clocked the bag Jack had been diving into it in search of dessert.
"Sandwiches first!" his best friend scolded, whipping round and deftly removing the carrot cake from between the model's fingers. He pouted, and she rolled her eyes.
"Don't be such a baby. Now, find me a glass of juice, and then we can sit down and talk all about your date with Ianto."
"Yes, Ma'am!" Cracking out a salute, Jack set to work. The sooner he gave Gwen her gossip fix, the safer he would be. He was sure the rolling pin was lurking in her handbag somewhere.