Pairing: Original Captain Jack Harkness/"Captain James Harper" (Jack Harkness)
Warnings: Internalized homophobia
Notes: Written for MMOM 2012, Day 12. Happy Birthday donutsweeper. Beta by michelleann68. Comments and concrit welcome.
Summary: Jack knows it can't last, but he'll take what he can get.
You stare at your hand, at the fingers intertwined with Captain Harper’s, hardly daring to believe this is really happening. You want to close your eyes and give in completely to the sensation of skin against skin. It’s so very little contact, but the fear of discovery is too great to let your guard down.
Captain Harper is a soldier, a regular guy, and he turns out to be just like you. You’d always thought real men can’t be this way; that you’re an oddball, something completely alien to those around you. Captain Harper is a soldier, a leader and a hero. Yet he turns out to be exactly like you, only braver. Looking into James’ impossibly blue eyes is like looking at a mirror and genuinely seeing yourself for the first time.
You’ve thought about things like this, this need, this longing, different than the vague affection you’ve felt for the girlfriends you used to hide the truth. Those “romances” are one more reason to hate yourself. It hasn’t been fair, leading them on like that. Even tonight, you’ve played out the charade with Nance. She deserves better; you’re starting to believe that you do as well. Now it’s happening and you’re lost for words or what you can possibly do besides give in to this feeling and let Captain Harper’s hands transmit thoughts and feelings that shake you to your very core.
You think of all those nights in the barracks. Every serviceman knows the drill. You do it as quietly as you can and pretend you don’t hear the other men, just as they pretend not to hear you. Only in your case, instead of Betty Grable or Rita Hayworth, you think about kissing Clark Gable or Robert Taylor, or much worse, maybe touching one of the other guys. You hear their grunts and wonder what it would like if it was your hand on their pricks or theirs on yours. It makes you go harder and faster, knowing in your heart that any of them would kill you if they even suspected you had those thoughts.
Now you’ve only just met James Harper and he already says he has to leave. It’s all right, though. You’ll never forget him. These are the hands you’ll think of next time you touch yourself from now on, starting when you get back to the barracks.
Tonight and every night.