Fic, Dancing Lessons, 33/33: Fivesome Reel

[loveslashangst]

Story: Dancing Lessons
Author: Love! Slash! Angst! melindakitty
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Captain Jack Harkness, Rose Tyler;
Rated: Adult for slash, bisexuality, mature content, language, violence, and lots and lots of sex (multiple pairings/groupings)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, 'cause if I did there would have been no parting of the ways, Rose would be happy and walking funny, and a love of tech isn't the only thing Nine and Jack would be sharing.
Spoilers: AU. If you haven't seen the first three series of Doctor Who, you may be spoilered. I like to mess with canon.
Summary: By popular request: OT3 Nine/Jack/Rose. One of Jack's exes is out for a bit of revenge. Can the Doctor and Rose figure a way to rescue him before he has to pay the piper? Watch for fancy footwork, a bit of intrigue, occasional plot, and a large excuse for love and smut.

Author's Note:
"And so here it is. The last dance. We knew it had to come to this, but it's still kinda sad all the same. This was the fic that made me LOVE Nine and find that -- contrary to my intent -- this really was Jack's story because it's his redemption. OT3 Nine/Jack/Rose became one of my alltime favorite groupings, because they're so much fun to write, they fit so beautifully, and they love each other so much.

"There will be a sequel, called 'Encore', which I will start as soon as I wrap "Faithful". I'm hoping that translates to sometime before the end of the year. We'll see. 'Encore' will take place just after 'The Christmas Invasion' and once again will be Jack-centered, this time with the key question: What happens when the man you fell in love with is no longer the man you married?"

"Thank you to EVERYONE who loves this story as much as I."


Fivesome Reel: A rare, five-handed dance mostly recognized by an official Scottish Country Dance handbook. As with so many Scottish Country dances, this is all about patterns, precision, order, and moving in perfect sync with the music. (Thanks to Leda for finding me a five-person dance.)

(The OT3 does a grand finale with a little help from Tom and Marilyn.)



The Savoy, May 26, 1941

“Fifty bucks on the bottle blonde.”

General Tom shoots Jack a warning look. (For all the time that boy spent in this era conning people, you’d think he’d remember not to go waving that much cash around, especially if he doesn’t have period currency.)

But to Tom’s surprise, his former subordinate pulls out ten five dollar bills that are perfectly contemporary to this time. Jack displays them to the little crowd that’s gathering around them, then lays each down on the table to punctuate his confidence in Rose.

She grins at her lover, then glares a challenge across the table at Marilyn.

The crowd murmurs and whistles. A few more still-sweaty dancers jostle their way closer to get a better look. The air of the dance hall is sultry with heat and heavy with a potpourri of sweat, perfumes, and aftershaves. And, in spite of the smoking ban within the building, the man next to Tom reeks of tobacco smoke.

He glances down at Marilyn. She grins up at him, confident, then returns Rose’s glare.

Tom considers. If nothing else, this’ll make a great story. And -- in his experience -- the only way to shut Jack up is to give him his fifteen minutes of grandstanding. (Boy always did have a strange definition of “blending in”.)

“Done,” he says. He and Jack shake on it.

A brief but enthusiastic cheer erupts from the crowd. Rose puts her elbow on the table. Marilyn mimics her. Both exude an air of slightly aggressive confidence. Jack grins his pride. The Doctor has his trademark poker face. Tom suspects the spectacle is even more amusing and arousing for them than it is for him. (If his research is correct, these three are notorious for making spectacles of themselves.)

And while he’s still not sure how Marilyn let herself be conned into this, in another second, he expects her to thoroughly trounce the little twenty-first-century starveling with the bad dye job.

The two women clasp hands. Eye each other.

Jack and Tom look to the Doctor.

The Time Lord smiles briefly, then looks serious. Puts his hand on top of the ladies’ to serve as referee. “Three. Two. One. Go!” He releases them.

It’s quite the free-for all of cheating. Rose spits on their clasped hands. Marilyn tries to bite her. Rose crosses her eyes to make Marilyn laugh. Ends up making herself laugh. With a triumphant cry, Marilyn pins Rose’s hand.

The crowd cheers again. Enthusiastic supporters slap Tom on the back. (Based on the reactions, he has a feeling Marilyn had the longer odds.)

Jack offers the combatants a monogrammed handkerchief each.

“Cheating that was!” says Rose, still laughing.

“You’re a fine one to talk!” Marilyn retorts. She finishes wiping her hand. Hands the handkerchief back to Jack, who politely declines it.

Marilyn scoops up the bills. The crowd counts with her. “FIVE! TEN! FIFTEEN! TWENTY!”

The raucous band at the end of the hall drowns out the rest of the chant until everyone (Jack, the Doctor, and Rose included) shouts out, “FIFTY!”

Marilyn stuffs the bills into her bra (to a chorus of wolf-whistles) and throws herself into Tom’s arms. Her kiss is as sweet as ever. He shamelessly kisses her, revelling in the chance to break a few more rules of the Agency.

“Much as I hate to break up the celebration,” Jack stands close to them, but still has to shout to be heard over the musicians. “But don’t you have something for me?”

He’d expected this, and has the data disc ready. He presses it into Jack’s Vortex Manipulator, which absorbs it and begins to process.

“Everything I have on the missing two years,” Tom says. “Plus a few other leads I’m not at liberty to pursue.”

Jack smiles. “But we are.”

He nods. “But you are.”

Jack’s grin goes lopsided and winsome. (Keep forgetting how that boy flirts.) “So do we get to discuss this after the next dance?”

He shakes his head no. “Not likely, because none of us were ever here.” Before Jack can object, Tom leads Marilyn out onto the dance floor.

The singer’s voice is like pure velvet, a slow warm-up. “It... had... to be... you...”

He glides across the floor. Marilyn lets him lead (for once) as he does his best ballroom hold. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots the Doctor doing the same with Rose. He has to give the girl credit -- she does the 40s bouffant beautifully, dye-job and all. And, compared to the paint-and-slather custom of this era, her makeup looks positively fresh and virginal.

“It had to be you,” croons the singer. (Damned if he can remember her name. Marilyn would know.)

Rose switches effortlessly to Jack as the Doctor trails them, all three in perfect step. Tom does his best to keep up.

“I wandered around...”

Jack spins Rose out. (If Tom were a better man, he’d focus on his own partner instead of gaping at the trio of fugitives, but...)

“ and finally found...”

The Doctor spins Rose back in. Marilyn laughs and encourages Tom with a slight tug to stand close enough to watch.

“The somebody who...”

The Doctor and Rose are in perfect ballroom hold, Jack’s hands at Rose’s waist. They move as if they’d been made for each other. (Small wonder the Doctor was willing to tear stars apart to rescue them.)

“Could make me be true.”

Nine dips Rose gracefully. The man next to Tom whistles approval. His partner claps prettily. Marilyn kisses Tom’s cheek, smiling.

And not surprisingly, a ring of onlookers forms around the trio. A few make a cursory attempt to pretend they’re still dancing.

“Could make me be blue.”

Jack swoops Rose up, his arms under her knees and around her shoulders, cuddling her close as he spins them both in a circle before setting her back on her feet.

“And even be glad,”

The Doctor catches Rose’s hand and pulls her toward him.

“Just to be sad,”

Jack catches Rose’s other hand and pulls her toward him, a graceful “tug-of-war”.

“Thinking of you.”

Rose spins both gentlemen in toward her, a devilish glint in her eyes. Two women behind Tom whistle encouragement. Rose evades the Doctor and Jack’s kisses, leaving them to hold each other as the music swells between verses.

“Some others I've seen...”

Rose cuts in so swiftly and neatly between him and Marilyn that his beloved is left agog. (And what can Tom do but shrug? Anyone who knows her will tell you it’s impossible to argue with a determined Rose.)

“Might never be mean,”

When Tom glances over his shoulder, the Doctor has offered Marilyn a gentlemanly hand. She accepts it with a dagger-look at Rose.

“Might never be cross,”

Jack skilfully cuts in with Marilyn. For those few strides, they have all the glares and intensity of tango-dancers.

“Or try to be boss...”

To Tom’s astonishment, the Doctor cuts in on him, taking not Rose’s hands, but his. The alien really does know how to lead. Tom falls into step with him, smiling at the Time Lord in spite of himself.

“But they wouldn't do,”

Jack abandons Marilyn and the Doctor leaves him on the dance floor. Both gentlemen return to Rose. She holds out her hands. They kiss them.

He returns to his abandoned Marilyn. Runs light fingers up her arm. Savours her shiver.

“For nobody else,”

The Doctor takes Rose’s hand in his, his other hand at her back, Jack’s hands are gentle at her waist. The boy waggles his eyebrows at the watching crowd. A new chorus of whistles and cheers signals their approval. Jack beams.

“Gave me a thrill,”

Tom wraps his arms around Marilyn from behind. Presses the warm solidity of her to him. He and she watch, oddly happy at the sight of the Most Wanted Alien in the universe dancing (and quite skilfully too) with his lovers.

“With all your faults, dear,”

Rose corrects Jack’s hands back up from her lovely ass to her waist. Marilyn barks a laugh.

“I love you still,”

Rose tips her head back, Jack kisses her cheek, which earns them an “awwwww” from the crowd.

“It had to be you,”

Jack spins Rose up into his arms and around in a circle.

“Wonderful you,”

The Doctor spins Rose up into his arms and around in a circle the other way.

“It had to be you.”

The guys set her on the floor between them. She hugs them close.

And of course, like any good fairytale must, at the end of the dance, the crowd goes wild. (Tom is reminded again why sensible people would chuck everything to follow the Doctor around the universe. He himself may be straight as an arrow, but even he has to admit that Rose is one hell of a lucky girl.)

Rose trades kisses with her lovers as the wild opening bars of “Jump, Jive, and Wail” begin.

“BABY, BABY, IT LOOKS LIKE IT’S GONNA HAIL!”

Marilyn looks up, alarmed. “But... This song won’t be recorded for ...?”

“Fifteen more years?” he supplies, nodding. (That clever bastard. Trust Jack to arrange this. Doctor probably helped him too.) “Yup. You and I will have to make the sheet music disappear after this. Retcon a musician or two.”

“And I suppose Jack is responsible for this?” At his nod, Marilyn sighs, annoyed. “That guy is nothing but trouble.”

He chuckles. “And isn’t he fun?” (Boy’s the happiest headache he’s ever had -- too charming not to forgive. He and the Doctor deserve each other.)

Marilyn looks at him again, surprised. “But we’re...”

“Too serious for our own good?” He doesn’t need her glare to know that wasn’t what she meant, but he brazens his way over her next objection. “Darling, I couldn’t agree more.”

And he pulls her out on the floor. He and Marilyn can’t compete with the sheer athleticism, enthusiasm, and madness of the Doctor and his Companions, but they do their best. (At least for the first verse or two. Then it’s too much fun to watch Jack and the Doctor doing a little one-upsmanship with Rose. Wouldn’t have thought Jack could still do a full backflip. And Rose must have some gymnast in her background somewhere.)

“Not very good at blending in, are they?” Marilyn shouts over the chaos of music and cheers from the onlookers. She’s clapping along, though.

He couldn’t grin any wider if he tried. “It’ll take us hours to clean up this mess.”

Smiling, she sticks her fingers in her mouth and whistles approval after the Doctor catches Jack’s foot in his clasped hands and flips him over Rose’s head. (And damned if the boy doesn’t land perfectly and come up dancing.)

Rose, laughing in delight, matches Jack step for step.

And though it promises to be a long night for Tom, it’s well worth it for the thunderous applause at the end of the song. The Doctor and his Companions exchange laughs and hugs, then bow as a trio to their impromptu audience.

Tom puts his arm around Marilyn’s waist and steers her closer. “So, Doctor,” he says. “Have you found what you’re looking for?”

“As far as these two are concerned?” The Doctor puts his arms around his partners. “Yes. But don’t be fooled by this happy ending here. Adventure’s just beginning.”

He nods in spite of himself. (Pity he can’t warn the guy. He’s actually come to like the Doctor a great deal.) “So you three will be on your way, now?”

Jack nods, slightly breathless. “Keep moving, that’s us.”

Rose hugs the Doctor. “We’ve got all of time.”

“And space,” the two gentlemen add.

Jack ejects the data disc from his Vortex manipulator and hands it to the Doctor, who scans it with a discreet buzz of his sonic screwdriver. The Time Lord gives Tom a very sober smile. “You’ve risked a lot to bring us this. Any strings we should be aware of?”

He waves it away. “On the house.” He hugs Marilyn closer. “Least we could do.” He already knows what the answer will be, but it will look suspicious if he doesn’t ask, “So. Where to next?”

The Doctor sizes him up. (Could swear that man can read minds.) “Cardiff,” he answers finally.

Rose’s jaw drops open. “CARDIFF!”

Jack looks similarly puzzled. “As in Wales?”

Rose shuts her mouth, brows knitting. “Nothing’s in Cardiff, aside from horrid weather and bad accents and soggy chips. And Gelf. And sometimes undead people and the risk of suffocating in basements. God, I HATE Cardiff.”

The Doctor ignores her, his eyes politely wary and still on Tom. “Nevermind that. There’s a reason for it.” He takes his arm from Jack’s shoulders. Holds a hand out to Tom. “Thanks muchly, General. It’s been fun.”

“It has,” he agrees, taking the cool and confident grip. “Take care, Time Lord. I have a feeling there may be dark days ahead.” (There. Hopefully that was just cryptic enough.)

For just a moment, every one of the Doctor’s nine hundred years shows in his eyes. “Days are always dark, General.” He smiles, surprisingly winsome. “Nights too, come to think of it. Lack of sunlight and all that.” He puts his arm back around Jack’s shoulders. “Key is to hold onto happiness while you have it.” He hugs Rose and Jack close again. “Keeps you young.”

Rose stands on tiptoe to kiss the Doctor’s cheek.

And Tom can’t resist just a little bit of a warning. “You said, Cardiff, right?”

The Doctor nods, carefully neutral. “Good a place as any.”

As if Tom doesn’t know the Rift is there and the Doctor’s planning a “pit stop” for the TARDIS. “You might want to keep an eye on the mayor.”

Jack’s eyes narrow. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

If only he could tell them. “You’ll find out.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Doctor watches Tom and Marilyn clear the floor. “I wager those two will have their hands full retconning and restoring the timeline after that stunt you pulled, lad.”

“Like you didn’t enjoy it,” says Jack. “You’re as much a dancing fool as the rest of us.”

But the Doctor’s mind is too much on the General’s warning to enjoy the banter. “Been too much of a fool lately is the problem.”

“What d’you suppose he’s on about?” says Rose.

Jack chuckles. “Whatever it is, it’ll be big.”

“And scary,” the Doctor adds with mock warning. (Though he’ll definitely keep an eye out for the mayor when they get to Cardiff.)

“And probably try to eat us all,” Rose adds.

“Sounds like fun,” says Jack. “I like being eaten.”

Rose groans. The Doctor pulls Jack close for a good snog. “C’mon, Mr. and Mrs. Trouble. Time we were going.”

And the three of them walk out together, arms around each other.

Though the future promises to be full of surprises, the Doctor, for one, plans to enjoy every minute of it. With Rose. And Jack.

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Crossposted to: time_and_chips, better_with_3