Capt Jack Harkness/Blaine Anderson || I'm sorry, I just can't resist
Just a snippet thing, and I guess this also counts as a first foray into Doctor Who fic? LOLOL WELP. SORRY IF IT SUCKS.
Titled tentatively: SO THAT ONE TIME THAT I SORT OF MADE JACK INTO A PEDO AND NO ONE CURRR
Blaine had always had this fantasy. It’s not an uncommon one among people his age: a man suddenly showing up in his life and sweeping him off his feet. He just hadn’t thought it would really happen — at least, not quite so literally.
He appears with a light, explosive sound in the middle of the Dalton halls. It’s the middle of the day and most everyone is in the cafeteria taking lunch. Blaine only sees him because he’s coming back from the bathroom and once he gets over the fact that the man’s appeared out of thin air, Blaine takes a moment to appreciate the thick leather jacket, the slacks, and the fine locks of hair swept back from his face. He’s very handsome, Blaine thinks when the man walks toward him and smiles. (Very, very handsome.) Blaine’s hand gets picked up for a handshake and against all propriety, kissed across the knuckles.
"Jack Harkness," is all the introduction Blaine’s given before Jack’s smile broadens and his eyes practically eat up how well the Dalton uniform suits him. "It’s a pleasure."
Jack’s bold flirtation isn’t jarring, though every compliment — unspoken, easily found in the heat of his gaze or the lecherous twist of his lips — is obvious. They slip under Blaine’s defenses as if they were nothing, melting him until he feels like breath is the last thing he needs.
Then Jack tells him to duck.
After that, everything goes sort of fast. Blaine gets shoved to the sidelines with strict instructions not to get his pretty face shot at and Jack goes gallivanting off to capture the flying robot mechanical Star Wars-esque thing that Blaine had glimpsed shooting lasers at them. There are a lot of explosions — many of them surprisingly directed at Blaine’s hiding place — and people start peeking out of doorways and from over the stairs and by the time Jack has the situation under control, there’s a whole crowd of students and their teachers tentatively watching the dust settle.
Jack takes the audience in stride and even starts flashing around his badge until people start dispersing. And — that’s odd — it isn’t a badge when it gets shoved into Blaine’s face but is, instead, an invitation. Blaine moves to take it, but Jack tucks it (and his gun) into his jacket before he can get a better look.
"Well," says Jack in a low tone that positively licks at the air with dark intent, "aren’t you more interesting than first impressions might assume. What’s your name?"
"Blaine Anderson," he answers, dropping his eyes to look at the machine thing that Jack’s got his foot perched on. It looks dead — or not a threat, anyway. "What is that thing?"
"Something very interested in you," Jack says. "I can sympathize."
"Oh." Blaine very nearly bats his lashes and settles for just biting his lip.
Jack does bat his lashes, but just a couple times — in a manly way. ”Tell me, Blaine. How’s your singing voice?”
Then, off Blaine’s bewildered look, Jack explains that the thing he’d just deactivated survives off of resonant energy within a certain wavelength, that the source must be organic in nature and not artificially manufactured, but also how that doesn’t matter now because Jack is far more interested in how great Blaine’s sense of adventure is.
"Because," Jack says as he lifts Blaine’s knuckles almost to his mouth and instead of kissing them, just continues speaking, letting his breath shiver across Blaine’s skin, "I’d very much like to make you sing."
It turns out Blaine doesn’t have a very great sense of adventure, but he’s learning.
In the meantime, Jack really, really likes being a knight in shining armor.