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"Well, that was fun!" said John as he walked out into the sunshine from the sparkling lights of the time vortex. "We must do that again sometime."
"And by sometime," Jack asked, "You mean never in a million years, right?"
"Right," agreed John, and grinned, before beating out the flames that were licking at the corners of his long black leather coat.
Jack checked his wrist strap, and his eyes widened. He poked it for a few more seconds, before finally resorting to bashing it a bit in the vain hope that the readings might be wrong. Slaving the time coordinates to John's vortex manipulator might have caused them to become somewhat screwy, but they shouldn't be doing this.
"John…" said Jack.
"Remind me to never wear long coats ever again," said John, still beating out the flames that were having a fine old time trying to roast him alive. In the end he shrugged it off his shoulders and rolled it around on the ground.
"John…" said Jack.
"What is it?"
"Check your wrist strap. Tell me I'm going crazy."
John looked at the sad remains of his coat before raising his right wrist and glancing at it, his attention still mostly elsewhere. His eyes widened, and he promptly began to ignore the still-smouldering coat in favour of prodding urgently at his strap. Jack found he wanted to smile. There were a lot of things you could say about John (and many people had) but you could never accuse him of not prioritising.
"65 million years!" said John, the amazement in his voice changing its pitch. Jack smiled again, wanting to accuse him of sounding like a girl, even knowing the bloody knuckled fight that the comment would provoke, finding a shiver in his bones at the very thought.
"Give or take half a million," he agreed.
They looked around at the rocky semi-arid environment. There were a number of tree-ferns attempting to grow in a parched kind of a way. Jack would have told them not to bother, if there'd been any point. It certainly didn't look particularly prehistoric. Mostly it just looked dusty.
John shrugged, then smirked. "Well, come on then. We better start rescuing ourselves, because no-one else will." He began walking.
"But..." It wasn't that simple. Not with such a catastrophic failure in the equipment as this. Jack put his hands on his hips, feeling exasperated. He did that a lot with John.
John waved an absent hand in a salute that Jack was pretty sure wasn't very polite in the Horsehead Nebula. Then Jack grinned. That was another thing about his new partner. At least things were never dull.
A couple of hours later, he wasn't so sure. There was a hole ripped in his shirt, he was covered in bruises, and there was blood in his mouth, he could taste it, like copper pennies.
"Fuck," said Jack, "What was that?"
"Euoplocephalus," said John, grinning wildly, panting as he leaned over, his hands on his knees. "Reckon it took a liking to you."
Jack stared in complete disbelief, and then started laughing. "It wanted to eat me, you lunatic, not take me dancing!"
"Well, someone would have got dinner out of the evening, anyway."
Jack fell to the ground, his sides heaving, unable to stop giggling. It wasn't even as though it was that funny, but the adrenaline was still coursing through his system, and his pulse was hammering in his ears. Being chased by a Euoplocephalus certainly got the blood up.
"Too many horns – I make it a rule to not date anyone who's hornier than I am," said Jack, at last, looking up at John as he stood above him, shading him a little from the blazing sun. John was smiling at him, with a funny little grin. Fond, Jack thought, it was a fond and indulgent grin. It made his stomach tense in anticipation.
Then John's gaze went thoughtful and far away. "Reckon I'm never going to be without an edged weapon in future, either. Or a gun. Two guns, maybe."
"What?" asked Jack, confused by the change of subject. "You've got a gun."
"It's not big enough," said John, "I suggest we run again now."
"Fuck," said Jack as he watched the Euoplocephalus, and probably its mother, come charging towards them once more.
He got up and ran again.
"Can you imagine the head over my fireplace," said John dreamily, his head lying on Jack's belly. The vibrations from his speech were sending pleasant buzzing sensations through Jack's body, and he was utterly relaxed, which considering they'd just been running for their lives, seemed a feat of noteworthy merit.
"You don't have a fireplace," said Jack, and thought some more, "Come to that, you don't have a house. You burnt it down."
"All the more reason to have a fireplace then, don't you think?" said John, reasonably. "Might never have happened then."
Jack smiled, and rubbed his hand through John's curly brown hair, picking out fronds, and dirt. John twisted his neck into the caress, like a cat.
"How are we going to get it home?" Jack asked, absently, glancing over at the huge carcass of the Euoplocephalus, and John chuckled.
"Ok, not the whole head then – maybe just a souvenir. Tooth?"
"I'll give you teeth," said Jack, and bent down.
John's mouth was relaxed and warm, and he tasted just a bit of dust, and quite a lot of John, a tang like lemons, like sherbet. There was something special about John, Jack had decided, he made Jack feel alive in a way few others had ever managed to make him feel. John nipped at his lower lip, and Jack growled at the tiny sting, at the implied liberty. He clutched his hands into John's hair, holding him still, biting and exploring, until John was whining into Jack's mouth.
Jack let him go then, so he could see the gleam in John's eyes, knowing he'd pay for that later, already looking forward to it.
"The kill was mine," said Jack, feeling possessive, and proud, "No trophies for you."
John rolled his eyes. "Says you. Anyway, Euoplocephalus are herbivores, so. Boring teeth."
John knew him well already, but not quite well enough. Or, at least – he certainly failed to duck.
Later still, Jack was beating the dust from the trailing ends of his coat. John was whistling, and doing up his flies. Jack still found the casualness inexplicable.
"Aren't you worried?" he asked, "Aren't you the tiniest bit concerned that we're off track by 65 million years."
John grinned slyly, all cat that got the cream. "Hey, I take afterglow where I can get it."
He began poking at his wrist strap until it whined and buzzed. There was a frown on his face now, but not a worried one. Jack stared at him. John looked up then and his expression cleared.
"Anyway, I know something that you don't know," said John, and stepped forward.
Jack opened his mouth, but then John's arms were around him, his face pressed close against his neck. Jack could smell sweat and sex, he could hear the whine of the power unit in John's wrist strap as it powered up and suddenly he was staring out at the dusty landscape through the iridescent glow of a force shield.
"Hold on tight," John murmured, and lifted his head, throwing it back, looking up, up into…
The sky exploded.
First there was a blinding flash, although Jack realised that it had been getting slowly brighter around them for some time, but that John had been distracting him well enough that he just hadn't noticed it until now. But this final flash was so bright that it would probably have blinded him, he was sure, if the force shield hadn't suddenly opaqued, but only for the required number of milliseconds, so that in practical terms it barely felt like there was any protection at all. Instead, it was as though he was caught in the centre of a fireball, a raging inferno of light and fire, with, presumably, eyeball-melting temperatures to go along with it, except that the force shield mercifully kept all of that out. Then there was a jolt and they rocked, as the huge shockwave of whatever had caused this maelstrom impacted them a few seconds later, and flattened everything the light had set fire to. The concussion seemed to put out most of the flames though, which was something, Jack supposed. He found he was holding his breath, and let it go in a rush, but otherwise he didn't move.
"Well," said John, "That was fun."
"Umm," said Jack, feeling like he was panting hard, as though he'd run a race, even though they'd been standing still. "Sure..."
They looked out onto a landscape changed beyond all recognition. The dust blown into the air gave it a hazy orange effect, like a gorgeous sunset and a lowering storm all at the same time. The fern trees were all flattened, their trunks cracked, their leaves smouldering, which left the landscape emptier but wilder, more stark. Peculiarly though, the destruction seemed to have left behind its own kind of beauty, it took Jack's breath away.
Their Euoplocephalus was steaming gently. John surveyed it in apparent satisfaction. "I think it's done. Are you about ready to eat?"
"What?" asked Jack, "What?"
John poked his wrist strap again and the force shield dropped. The wind was dusty and the air smelled burnt. Jack coughed.
"Asteroid," said John, gesturing around himself at the surrounding devastation. "Probably. Extinction event anyway. What do you think? Never say I don't take you places."
His eyes gleamed in the twilight, and Jack had an awful, dawning suspicion.
"You seem surprisingly prepared for this, considering the time vortex threw us so far off course," said Jack, slowly. "But my wrist strap was slaved to yours, wasn't it? 'It's better that way, Jack. You'll get less time-lag that way, Jack.' Remember?"
Jack used a high sing-song voice as he pretended to be John, and he wondered if John would punch him first this time around. He didn't care. Jack felt more than the faintest stirrings of anger, as he put two and two together and failed to get five. Four and a half, maybe. Perhaps even four.
John had a certain reputation within the confines of the Time Agency. Loose cannon didn't even begin to describe it. But he got the job done when no-one else could – and that gave him leeway with their superiors. It also got him Jack.
Jack liked wild rides. He thought he did.
John threw back his head and laughed. He stepped away from Jack, throwing his hands wide and spinning on the spot.
"Feel it! The ending of one world, and the beginning of another. Epochs clashing, the smell of time itself! Not to mention, they said it couldn't be done, too far away, too long ago, the vortex manipulator is not calibrated, blah blah. I love a challenge. Besides..."
John stuck his hands on his hips, and positively beamed. Jack didn't get it.
"Hunting trip. Fireworks. Barbecue. Mood lighting. What more can I say?"
"Fuck, John," said Jack. Exasperated, frustrated, annoyed, really turned on. "It's only been a week!"
"Exactly," said John, his teeth shining in the light. "Happy Anniversary!"