Chapter Text
Steve was alone for the first time in forever when he first met Capt. Jack Harkness. Well, not alone-alone. He was in a packed bar, with fellow soldiers jostling all around him. He had a brown bottle of not-nearly-strong-enough-to-get-him-wasted something or other, and was completely ignoring everyone around him when some soused sergeant fell off the stool next to him only to be replaced by a grinning, dimpled young man with a cleft chin and white suspenders.
“What are you doing here alone, soldier? Looking for some fun?” the man asked Steve with a wink and a cheesy smirk, and clinked a few coins down on the table for the bartender.
Steve raised his eyebrows and gulped the mouthful of is-that-bourbon? so quickly some of it went down the wrong hole and he sputtered a little, trying to catch his breath.
Was this…man… flirting with him? He’d never been very good catching if someone was flirting with him, early on because there was no one flirting with him, and later because he had other things to be thinking about, like rescuing Bucky, saving the country, trying find a way to take down Hitler. But most of the girls who flirted with him (girls!) were more subtle about it. And they were girls. Not that he had anything against boys who liked…boys. He was in the army after all, he had seen all sorts of things, walked in on all sorts of things, would like his mind scrubbed of any memory of all sorts of things, so it wasn’t that. No. It was that even if such things happened in the army, were accepted (again, in a hidden, secretive sort of way) there was still a lot of scandal wrapped around such things and so men would never be flirting with other men, in public!
But the man was still waiting, gazing down at Steve (how was he doing that? Steve was at least a head taller than the other man, so how could he be gazing down at him?). He hadn’t moved, and there was even a look in his eyes that told Steve he was ashamed of nothing, and wouldn’t accept any back talk, thank you very much.
Or maybe he was gloating over the fact that he had made Captain America choke on his drink.
Well, Steve was not one to back down from a challenge.
He straightened his shoulder and looked the man straight in the eye. “Who says I’m here alone?”
The man laughed and leaned back, completely at ease in this environment. “Sipping bourbon at a bar, hunched over, ignoring all of the yelling in this stuffy place. You didn’t come here with anyone.”
“Well, what’s it to you?”
“Just curious seeing a young man alone at a bar. You only drink alone if you’re melancholy or looking for a hook-up.”
Steve couldn’t stop his eyes from growing impossibly wide, but he did stop himself from sliding backward off of the stool. He looked around to see if anyone had heard the man’s voice, but no one was looking at them strangely. Steve lowered his voice slightly, wary about someone overhearing them even if it seemed unlikely. “I don’t want to cause any trouble, and I’m not going to report you or anything—” he raised his hands defensively even though the man’s expression hadn’t changed and he still looked at ease “—but I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go around propositioning…” he can’t keep a blush from heating his cheeks “people…in such open places.”
For a minute Steve thought the man was going to… well, he didn’t know. Maybe leave? Slink away? But he looked too comfortable to slink… maybe saunter off without a care? Or maybe the man would laugh it off, deny everything, call Steve crazy for even saying such a thing.
The man did none of these. Instead he gave Steve an appraising look, and then stuck out his hand, pushing it insistently into Steve’s personal space. “Captain Jack Harkness, at your service. Thanks for watching my back.”
It was a kind smile, the man—Jack—gave him, and it made Steve think that maybe it was easier than he’s ever thought to make friends, without having to save their life first. He extended his own hand and gripped Jack’s firmly.
“Steve Rogers.”
Jack wiggled his eyebrows in a way that 1) Steve wasn’t sure until that moment was physically possible and 2) still felt a little too flirty. “Steve Rogers, eh? Well I’ll be damned. Captain America himself sitting on my barstool.”
Steve jumped to his feet, thinking he understood why Jack was paying so much attention to him (it was definitely ‘cause he’d taken the man’s seat. Everyone knew you never took a regular’s seat) and tried to wave Jack over to the stool he’d been occupying, but Jack just chuckled and motioned him back to sitting. “I’m only joking, soldier. No worries. Just a surprise to see such an enterprising hero sitting alone in a backwater pub like this.”
Steve sighed and took another mouthful of bourbon and wished for the thousandth time that night that he could at least get tipsy. It was only times like this that he regretted following Dr. Erksine so many evenings ago. Pre-serum he could’ve at least drowned in alcohol. Now he floated above it, always so far above it. “Sometimes it’s nice just to get away from everything, do you know what I mean? I’m so much more crowded now than I ever was growing up; sometimes I just need to step out for an hour or two.”
“Captain America needs alone time? That’s adorable.” Steve’s shoulders tensed automatically, but Jack went on and eased Steve’s mind. “I do understand though. Sometimes everything is a bit much and getting away is the only way to calm the mind.”
Steve raised his bottle to the man in a quasi-salute downed the rest of the bottle. Jack laughed again and downed his glass of whiskey. Steve checked the time and startled to his feet. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Can’t be late again, not after last time.”
Jack stood as well and threw a few more coins on the table. “I’ll walk you out then, least I can do for keeping you.”
Steve gave the man a half-smile, still unsure of this man’s intentions or what kind of person he was, but didn’t hesitate to let the man walk with him from the hazy room.
The night was cooling. Not chilly, but covered in the crisp blanket of refreshing that seemed to creep in from the sea after the sun set. Steve paused outside to look up at the stars dotting the sky. It always made him more comfortable knowing that there was so much out there no one knew about. So much mystery. He was a big fish in a little pond, sometimes, uncomfortable in his new skin, but knowing that there was so much unknown out there and that others felt the same way about it wrapped around him like the hand-stitched quilt his mother had made him for his ninth birthday. He didn’t matter to the universe, and it was a relief to know that somewhere out there people didn’t even know he existed. He sighed in contentment at finding himself surrounded by twinkling balls of fire that didn’t know his name.
Then he felt a flat hand smack his left butt-cheek with a resounding ‘thwak’ and he spun around.
Jack Harkness stood, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face as he watched Steve Rogers sputter and raise his hackles.
“Wha?” Steve finally managed to get out, unable to comprehend such a forward advance from someone he had just rejected. What was happening to him? What kind of guy was this Jack Harkness?
Jack stuffed his hands into the pockets of his long coat and leaned back with such cockiness that for a second Steve thought he was an automaton piloted by Howard Stark out for a laugh. It would be just like Howard to try and embarrass Steve like that, and honestly, Jack looked real, but what other explanation was there?
“Oh don’t look so offended, Stevie.”
“Stevie?” Steve most definitely did not squeal.
Jack waved it off. “Yeah. I think we’ll be right ol’ pals in no time. You can call me Jackie if it makes you feel better.” He leaned towards Steve and his grin reminded him of a shark’s: all danger and no familiarity.
Steve blinked a few times and there was an awkward pause before he was able to talk without it sounding like he had bypassed puberty altogether. “Why did you.. uh… smack—”
“Your ass? I smacked your ass ‘cause it’s a nice ass.”
This time Steve swallowed the squeak and when he spoke it was a lot calmer than he was feeling. “I thought I had just finished telling you that I am not looking for a… hook up.”
Jack patted Steve’s arm consolingly. “Don’t worry, big guy. It wasn’t a pre-coital slap on the ass. It was a friendly, platonic, dare I say it, even brotherly slap on the ass. No need to worry.”
“Jack!” Steve spluttered for a second. “Jack, brothers do not slap each other’s asses, not like that.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Alright Stevie. If you want, I’ll kiss it to make it feel better.”
Steve, possibly already getting used to Jack’s obvious inability to have a decent, non-sexual conversation (and he never would have thought that he’d be thinking that ever), merely rolled his eyes and cuffed Jack on the shoulder.
Instead of looking chastised as Steve thought Jack should have, his eyes lit up. “See, Stevie? It’s the same sort of thing. You slapped my arm, I slapped your ass. It’s practically identical.”
Steve gaped at the strange man before him and the way Jack’s face lit up in a smile, his dimples practically glowing in happiness.
“Jack! Jack, it’s not the same at all!”
Jack rolled his eyes. “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“No! Jack, you can’t go around slapping other people’s a—butts.”
“I thought you had somewhere to be?” It was obviously a try at changing the conversation, and Steve regularly wouldn’t have let it go, but when he looked down at his watch he saw that now he had less than 5 minutes to get across town to meet Peggy so they could talk strategy. He cursed.
“See?” Jack said, his smugness radiating off him in waves. “Now, Captain, you’d best get going. I’m sure we’ll see each other some other time.”
Steve rolled his eyes, but gave a short wave before turning away.
Then, in a move that had Steve thought about, he really should have anticipated, Jack smacked his ass again.
“Jack!” Steve snarled and spun on his heel, ready to really have it out with the guy, but Jack was already walking away, his dark coat fading into the night, and all Steve could hear was the man’s irritating laugh. He rubbed his butt cheek, checked his watch, and took off at a dead sprint, unwilling to keep Peggy waiting any longer than he already had.