Rating: G - This chapter
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Beta: The forever amazing starxd_sparrow
Characters: The Tenth Doctor and the Torchwood Team
Summary: The Doctor's antics continue and with Owen as a guide, how will Jack ever cope?
A/N: This is the sequel to Scorched Food. The crack continues!
Dedication: For my gentle reader, petit_fox.
I promise I'm going somewhere with this - I think.
Jack originally declined the offer to go watch Owen embarrass himself, but he soon decided that this little escapade could have years worth of blackmail potential. And as Ianto so eloquently put it, “It’ll be a laugh, won’t it?”
As the team clambered out of the SUV, one of the men milling around outside said, “Good luck finding a place to sit.”
“Yeah, Parker and Cohen are playing tonight,” a woman gleefully informed them.
“Parker and Cohen?” Gwen asked.
The woman gave her a strange look implying Gwen had just crawled out from underneath a rock somewhere. “The Parker and Cohen? You haven’t heard of them?”
Gwen shrugged, mumbled something about not getting out much, and followed her friends inside.
Jack was a man of action, a hero, someone who was prepared for anything and who always knew what to say; all of those things were true until he got full view of the stage.
“What the - ?” Jack groaned, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.
Gwen, Jack, Ianto, and Tosh stood shoulder to shoulder staring slack-jawed at the stage across the pub. The Doctor and Owen were back to back, the music of Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” blaring through the loudspeakers. Owen’s tongue was wedged between his teeth as he played his air guitar for all he was worth, and the Doctor -
“What is he doing?” Jack yelled, mesmerized as the Doctor, sans coat and jacket - and were the top two buttons of his shirt undone as well? - sang the lyrics “I’m hot, sticky sweet.” To add insult to injury, the unlikely duo were actually decent singers and far better entertainers than their friends expected.
Gwen was fanning herself with her handbag. “You have to admit, he’s rather nice, isn’t he?”
“Think about Rhys, will you?” Jack barked, pushing through the crowd stalking towards the stage. “They’re drunk,” Jack growled. “I can smell it from here.”
“Um…you do realize you’re in a pub, don’t you?” Tosh asked. The glare Jack tossed over his shoulder made her realize now was not the time to be rational. No, now was the time for Jack to act like a complete arse, and that promised to be far more entertaining.
A human wall appeared in front of them. “Excuse me,” Jack said, attempting to get around the man that introduced himself as Ben. The wall didn’t move nor seemed to be impressed by Jack’s glowering.
“Look, I’m Jack,” he said, attempting to reason with the intoxicated fans, “and those are my friends –“
“Oh, you’re their bodyguard!” Gina said.
Jack’s jaw dropped again. “Their what?”
“This keeps getting better and better,” Ianto said. “I’ll buy the first round.”
“We’re not staying,” Jack announced, much to his team’s dismay. “I’m retrieving our rock stars, and we’re going back to the Hub.”
For the second time that evening, Ianto couldn’t help himself. “Spoilsport.”
Jack tried a second time to get through the throng of people packed close to the stage. He was sure someone purposely tripped him, Benny –whatever his name was - accidentally spilled his drink over Jack’s favorite shirt, and when he almost reached the platform, a familiar tie landed on his head. Jack looked up in time to see the Doctor wink at him.
“Alien bastard,” Jack muttered while trying his best to look threatening. He crooked his finger at the Doctor and hoped he was sending the silent message of “Get your alien backside down here – now.” This always worked well for his team. The Doctor, however, failed to notice Jack’s intimidating pose.
“How about something special for my friend, Jack?” the Doctor asked into the microphone. The cheap equipment squealed obnoxiously, and the Doctor shook his head. “This won’t do, will it?” The audience, caught in the moment, responded with a boisterous “No!” Pulling his sonic screwdriver out of his trousers pocket, he flipped it twice in the air before holding the blue light to the microphone. “That better?” he asked, the clarity of his voice increased tenfold. The audience screamed and the Doctor winked, tossed his sonic screwdriver in the air, and slipped it back into his pocket.
It was official: the crowd was in love.
“You’ll risk a riot if you pull them down now,” Tosh pointed out, forever the voice of reason.
“Best to let them finish,” Gwen said, her gaze not wavering from the performers.
“Beer?” Ianto offered, passing a mixed drink to Tosh and a bottle to Gwen.
“Right, where were we?” the Doctor asked the crowd. “Oh yes! Something special for my dear Captain.”
Gwen nearly choked on her drink, and Tosh murmured a distinct “Aww.”
Jack covered his face with his hands as the Doctor began to sing “Every Rose Has Its Thorn.” He figured he knew the Doctor pretty well, and if he knew anything about the Time Lord, he knew the Doctor gave himself one hundred percent to everything he did – and that obviously including singing karaoke. He wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or start looking for a good place to stick a knife.
Cell phones were flipped open and waved throughout the audience. Ianto had the decency to blush and temporarily close his phone when he noticed that Jack was staring at him.
If anything, the crowd seemed more enthralled when the Doctor selected several alien languages to sing the chorus.
“He might as well get a neon flashing sign that says ‘Hey look! I’m a Time Lord!” Jack grumbled.
“Yeah, because you know Torchwood keeps such a low profile,” Tosh replied.
“At least we’re human!”
“Only just,” Ianto murmured before gulping down most of his beer. He left to retrieve another round before Jack could respond.
Owen stripped out of his jacket, passing it to Tosh and giving her a private wink before resuming his backup vocals and air guitar playing. Shannon, the ever helpful barmaid, kept placing drinks on a table towards the back of the small stage that Owen and the Doctor were tossing back between songs.
The crowd erupted into applause the Doctor finished. Jack used his finger to make several slicing motions across his neck in attempt to indicate that Parker and Cohen were officially finished. Jack wasn’t afraid to make a scene if he had to. He was outside of the government and beyond the police, after all. Tonight he’d be lucky he got out of here without the police being called and the government confiscating the Doctor.
“So how do you know them?” Ben, the fanboy, asked, somehow appearing between Gwen and Ianto who had just returned with drinks in hand.
“I’m their manager,” Ianto replied, shrugging when he saw Jack’s glare.
“Don’t you dare get involved in this,” Jack growled. If this kept up, Rolling Stone and Mojo were going to be asking for interviews.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Ianto asked. “You get to be the bodyguard.”
“Not by choice.”
Gwen started coughing and Jack swore there was a ‘liar’ somewhere between her gasps for air.
“I handle the special effects and sound equipment for their shows,” Tosh chimed in. Normally she didn’t participate in the group’s antics, but tonight the fun-loving mood was infectious and she couldn’t resist. Watching Jack squirm was just an unexpected benefit of this little endeavor.
“And what do you do?” Ben asked, gesturing to Gwen.
“I’m just a groupie,” she replied, batting her eyelashes and blowing a kiss towards the stage. Jack could only groan.
“So do you think you can get me an autograph?” Ben asked. “I didn’t think to ask for one earlier.”
“Sure, why not?” Ianto agreed while tossing his arm around Ben’s shoulders.
“No,” Jack interrupted. “There will be no autographs.”
“What about a photograph after the set?” Ben asked.
Jack resisted the urge to throttle the young fan. If he only knew who was really on that stage. “No photographs, no autographs, just – no.” The last thing he needed was to have to explain to UNIT and headquarters why there were videos and pictures of the Doctor trashed at a pub on YouTube.
“Is he always like this?” Ben asked, albeit quietly. He might be drunk, but he wasn’t blind to the fact that the bodyguard was flexing his muscles underneath his skintight shirt.
“You have no idea,” Gwen said with a sigh.
The Doctor started into an extended version of Billy Joel’s classic “We Didn’t Start the Fire.” It would have been fine if the Doctor hadn’t started adding bits about how he was there – Woodstock, Watergate, Budapest, and the assassination of JFK, and pointed out how charming Marilyn Monroe really was. He even offered a little known secret about Pope Paul. Leave it to the Doctor to turn a song into a lesson in twentieth century Earth history.
“Has he seen all that?” Tosh asked curiously.
Jack, whose hands were now covering his face, nodded. He even had the surveillance pictures to prove it, not that he’d tell his team that.
Jack looked up to find Owen smirking at him, his tongue still firmly wedged between his teeth. Jack knew that look. It was the classic Owen ‘I’m smarter than you and I’m plotting something that you probably won’t like – now ask me if I care’ look. Owen was able to convey a lot with his looks, Jack decided. He also decided that if he punched the medic in the face, his ability to express such mischievous looks would be exponentially reduced.
“Dead man walking,” Jack yelled over the music, hoping Owen somehow heard what he was saying. With the amount of alcohol Owen had consumed, Jack figured he could be standing two inches in front of the other man screaming and holding pictures and he wouldn’t have a clue what the hell Jack was saying.
Owen placed his hand on the Doctor’s back and leaned over to whisper something in his ear. Whatever he said, it had the Doctor blushing.
“Are you sure?” the Doctor, glancing between Owen and the audience. The crowd, inebriated and thoroughly enjoying the impromptu performance, screamed their encouragement.
“Just say no!” Jack yelled. “Whatever he told you, don’t do it!”
Jack stepped forward, fully prepared to yank the Doctor and Owen off the stage willing or not. He stopped when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He yanked his cell out of his pocket and recognized the South Wales Police phone number on the lighted screen. There was no way he’d be able to hear anything above the racket of the pub. It figured that tonight would be the night that all hell broke loose in Cardiff. Karma, if you believed in that sort of thing, wouldn’t have it any other way.
Knowing he had to take this call, he leaned over to Ianto and said, “I’ll be back in two minutes. Make sure they don’t do anything stupid.”
“Anything else, you mean,” Ianto replied.
Jack opened his mouth to start yelling, but Ianto cut across him. “Yes, I’ll watch them! Just like everyone else that’s here tonight,” he muttered as he watched Jack disappear into the crowd.
“Must be an important call,” Tosh commented, her eyes fixed on Owen as he and the Doctor switched places.
“It wasn’t,” Gwen replied.
Ianto looked at her curiously. “How do you know?”
“I had Andy call one of constables that’s working tonight and ask them to call Jack,” Gwen stated. “It bought us a few more minutes at least.” She grinned when Ianto and Tosh burst into laughter. “What? You’re just upset that you didn’t think of it first.”
“You’re a genius,” Ianto said, raising his bottle in a toast.
“Jack’s going to kill us,” Tosh said.
When Owen launched into a drunken version of “Feel like Making Love,” the team decided it was well worth it.