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| Ninth Doctor | |
One Thing We Always Suspected About Captain Jack by RedScharlach [Reviews - 22]  | |
Jack marched into the console room, his buttocks a-twitch with incipient arousal. "I've got an announcement," he announced.
"Can't it wait?" asked the Doctor tetchily. "Rose and I were just about to have rampant sex up against that wall over there."
"Actually," interrupted Rose. "I wanted to climb up on top of the console and have it up against the big lighty-uppy thing in the middle that goes up and down and makes funny noises, whatever it's called. But he is scared we might fall off. "
"I am not scared, I'm just concerned," the Doctor corrected. "And rightly so. It's a valid health and safety issue. We could both do ourselves a serious mischief. What if I tumble to the floor and break my neck and have to regenerate? Sexual intercourse is a goldmine of potential embarrassment at the best of times, but believe me, it's 17.965 times worse when the person you're shagging almost dies, starts glowing with an unearthly blue light, turns into someone entirely different and then can't remember your name."
"Regeneration sounds an awful lot like tequila," mused Rose.
Jack interrupted by yawning in a loud yet somehow dashing fashion. "My announcement is in fact extremely relevant to the matter in hand. Namely, you two playing Hide the Intergalactic Time-Travelling Sausage."
Having got their attention, he continued.
"Tell me, have you ever had sex with each other before?"
Heads were shaken in a slightly embarrassed way. "Nope," confirmed the Doctor. "And it doesn't look like we're going to get any now, either, so maybe someone should put the kettle on."
Jack soldiered on regardless. "And is there any particular reason that you haven't?"
"Dunno," shrugged the Doctor. "Just never got around to it. Nice idea, but wasn't really in the mood."
"I was in the mood!" protested Rose. "I've been gagging for it, frankly. But Romeo here never got his act together until... well, until around the time that you showed up, in fact."
"Ah-ha!" cried Jack, slapping his taut thigh with thoroughly thrilling theatricality.
Rose looked suspicious. "Jack, don't tell me you've been slipping Viagra in the teapot."
"Nothing so crude, I assure you. There is a simple explanation. It just may be a little hard to believe."
"We're all ears," said the Doctor, ignoring Rose's mumble of "Some of us more than others."
Sighing, Jack went on. "Now, have you noticed anything unusual about me?"
"You're terribly good-looking," gushed Rose. "And you remind me of the Doctor, somehow."
"You're mind-meltingly shallow," said the Doctor. "Yet you seem likeable and strangely familiar."
Jack smiled. "I'm not surprised I seem familiar. You see, I am, in fact, none other than... the living personification of the Doctor's libido!"
There were a few moments of gobsmacked silence, followed by a joint exclamation of "You what?"
"Simply what I said — I am the physical manifestation of the Doctor's sex drive. After several hundred years of complete and utter neglect, the build-up of repressed sexual energy grew so powerful that I was able to assume material form and set off around the galaxy to have my own shagtastic adventures through time." He slapped his thigh again for emphasis, and it rippled obediently.
"Crikey," said Rose. "And there I was thinking that Timelords just never had sex."
"That's where you're wrong," said the Doctor. "Actually we used to have loads of sex, all the time. We were at it like rabbits at all hours of the day and night. We never stopped. In fact, that's why Gallifrey exploded. All that shagging set up pernicious vibrations within the planet's core and caused a massive geological rupture. I know people call it a Time War but that's just a euphemism to avoid shocking old ladies. It was actually more like one big giant party for slightly overweight middle-class swingers."
Rose looked thoughtfully at Jack. "So in fact it's just him that's bloody hopeless with women, then?"
"Yep."
"Hello, I am still in the room," said the Doctor in a forlorn fashion.
"And you're saying that the reason for it," Rose continued blithely, "is basically that his dick has been wandering the universe without him? And you happen to know this because.... you are his dick??"
"Precisely!" declared Jack. "Not his actual penis, of course. That's still down the front of his pants where it's always been."
"Bloody right it is!" said the Doctor, looking peeved. "I can still write my name in the snow with the best of them."
"But that does not alter the fact," said Jack, "that I am a transcendental embodiment of all his primal phallic forces, and without me, his trousers are nothing. Unless I'm around, he either doesn't want to have sex at all, or he sort of vaguely fancies it but lacks the concentration required to go out and get any."
"But when you are around..." said Rose.
Jack grinned lecherously. "Then nothing with a pulse is safe."
"Wait a minute," interrupted the Doctor tetchily. "How can my own libido be travelling the universe without me? This makes no sense whatsoever."
"I think you'll find it does." said Jack.
"No, it doesn't."
"Yes, it does."
"No, it doesn't."
"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" squealed Rose. "I'm all confused now. Does it make sense or doesn't it?"
"I can only think of one way to find out," said the Doctor, and fiddled with the Tardis controls.
*****
In early 20th-century Vienna, the three of them trooped out of Sigmund Freud's office, blinking in the sunlight.
"Now do you see it makes sense?" asked Jack.
Rose sighed. "Yeah, I suppose so. Not so sure about that Tardis/womb symbolism stuff he was going on about at the end, though."
"Bah, he was just winging it there," said Doctor dismissively. "He doesn't really get to grips with the subconscious significance of female genital imagery for at least another decade. And he definitely needs to get a bigger couch."
"So now I believe we all have an appointment back at the Tardis for some rampant three-way sex." said Jack.
"Yay!" said Rose.
"Do you think we could go and buy some apple strudel first?" asked the Doctor.
First they both slapped him. And then they dragged him away.
And from the office door behind them came a sound that distinctly resembled the father of modern psychiatry downing a bottle of vodka in one.
FIN
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