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Jack - Play, then Work
"You need a real bed. And a real bedroom. ...And sheets that don't date back to World War One," he complained, rubbing his face as he sat up and turned on the light.
"Your Spanish is still absolutely terrible," Jack chuckled. He looked over at Logan, deep affection in his eyes.
This was all so wrong. He didn't know what or why and if it had been anyone else Jack would have them strapped to a table while he took apart the secrets. But he couldn't do it to Logan. And it was entirely selfish. Odd as it was, he seemed to have everything he'd wanted all these years.
Surely testing could wait a while...
"So you can talk dirty in three languages? That's hot," Jack replied. He passed the money and got the food, handing the bag to Logan.
"Okay, West End. This should be just great."
"You're going to shatter my fantasy that there's an answer?" Jack chuckled. "I don't know. In all the years of the Time Agency and Torchwood...I've never gotten even a little close to an answer about the island. Or the mist. Or a lot of things, actually."
"Sometimes I just want the answers," Jack said. "I doubt there's any way to control it. I'm not dumb."
Jack rolled to a stop and looked over at Logan. He'd not thought of it like that. It was a very good point. What if he poked and prodded until he undid everything?
"It's a good thought," he nodded. "I don't like it, but you've got a point."
He dug for a burrito.
"I'm not going to risk losing you."
"As far as the mist goes, I just want to understand it. It would be fine if it was harmless, but people get hurt," he said.
"Prove it? Now? You mean right now?" he asked, casting Logan a quizzical glance.
"Just don't go?" he asked slowly, as if he were trying to translate what Logan had said.
"That's actually not a bad idea," Jack said thoughtfully.
"God, I've missed you," Jack said when Logan snorted. It shouldn't have even been a ting but Jack found he'd even missed how Logan could breathe.
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