![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
FIC: A Little Theory (M'ways)
TITLE: A Little Theory
FANDOM:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
milliways_bar (Doctor Who-Torchwood, Waywalkers, Greco-Roman mythology)
WRITTEN FOR: Prompt: Picture of John Barrowmen in briefs
CHARACTERS: Jack Harkness, Medusa, Sam Linnfer
PAIRINGS: Jack/Sam/Medusa
WORD COUNT: 1, 035
DISCLAIMER: While this version of Medusa is mine, everyone else...is not.
A Little Theory
Little and lovely and dark, Sam had said, but the first thing you notice about Medusa is her wings. Large wings, shaped like a hunting bird’s with gold, gold feathers. Small woman, by the height and the flowing skirt. Dark ha-
Black snakes. Slender snakes, green-black to the blue-black of her slender braids, but still snakes.
That is the second thing you notice.
The third, as she turns around and raises an eyebrow at you, is that her eyes (chocolate brown, cat slit pupils, wire-framed glasses) give the somewhat uncomfortable sensation of looking directly into your soul.
(she never apologizes for that, although her smile does turn a little crooked)
~
I can’t die, you say eventually; it came up after other conversation that is more probing than your previous normal for Milliways. You admit to some curiosity about the kind of person who could get under Sam’s skin, but that’s not everything. Medusa, Medusa Gorgos who lives in Morocco and never looks at you for long, tilts her head in a movement more serpentine than not.
Immortal, or just can’t stay dead?
You pause, glass of water mid-way to your mouth as you look at her. The Gorgon, small and dark and lovely, smiles a smile quick and crooked.
It’s what I call it. A little more accurate, eyeh? She says, fingers skating along the edge of the table.
What do you see? Your voice is quiet, sharp.
Nothing.
~
She’s a sweet thing, you think. Shy, skittish, snarky.
Dangerous.
(You noticed her retractable claws the first time she twisted her fingers.)
~
Hot, is what you tell Sam the next time you see him, and he smiles smug and happy.
~
Sam Linnfer, also known as Lucifer, worries about you. Sam, the Devil, is black haired, black eyed and don’t think you didn’t miss that wild hope in his ever-young face when you told him what happened in regards to your mortality.
Brilliant in bed, too. Even when a girl (long story that can be summarized with ‘fucking Milliways’). Even with a beautiful immortal (sort of) girlfriend.
Open relationships should really, really be more common on this planet.
~
You have a theory.
Okay, call it an idea.
Okay, fine, an idle wondering while you are drifting along in that hazy not-quite-sleep in your office, because despite everything in the past one hundred and fifty years, you are still you and hot damn if it wouldn’t be interesting.
On the other hand, it’s been over a hundred and fifty years since you last had sex with someone who has wings.
(The threesome part happened just the other week.)
~
You don’t like admitting it’s just a way to distract yourself from the fact that Medusa doesn’t see anything when she fails at dying, either.
So, you don’t.
~
Sam’s good at distraction, Milliways prudery be damned, but Medusa is just plain distracting. Chime of her wings, jingle of her bracelets, hissing of her snakes and the sharp clip, clip of her sandals that stops as she takes a seat and crosses her legs.
Don’t mind me, she tells you both with a glittering smile. Sam untangles himself from your lap, gets to his feet.
Meda and he sounds uncertain, worried. You choose to be diplomatically silent.
Honestly, and her British accent is worse than normal. I’m just…oooh, I hate her.
You follow Sam’s glance to a dark-haired, light-eyed woman at the bar, watching with a cool expression.
Athena.
Mmm-hmm. Misogynistic cow and the Gorgon stands up, her movements sharp, angry, but Sam steps in and pulls her close, one arm around her waist.
I could – I could leave you offer, rising from the chair and she looks over as if startled.
Oh, I didn’t mean…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just…didn’t want to end up in the cells again. I am sorry, Jack, Lucifer. Oh, shit! Medusa is North African, all black hair and sun-darkened olive skin, and you can still see the dull flush that comes over her face.
He knows Sam says quietly, a touch resigned but he kisses her forehead anyway. You lean against the table, arms crossed.
And don’t care, you add. Medusa just bites her bottom lip.
I’m not terribly good at being…sneaky she admits. Not when I’m rattled.
Right, I heard something about you and Athena…
She cursed me. Sent the boy to cut off my head. We ended up in the cells and have loathed the very sight of each other for millennia. You can’t decide if Medusa sounds more amused or angry.
Yeah, something like that.
Her smile flickers across her face and she tilts her head. This time the movement is sharp and avian, and her expression is thoughtful. Medusa, you are finding, has never been one to hide her expression.
It’s not a terribly hard expression to decipher, either.
She glances at Sam, almost as if for permission and then, without ever quite leaving the circle of the Devil’s arms, steps forward and kisses you.
You kiss her back. Hand on her jaw, tongue careful of the fangs lying flat against the roof of her mouth (dangerous girl, you had known the first time you saw her, and this isn’t the first time you’ve had to be careful even just kissing) and you’re conscious of Sam standing there, of Sam watching you kiss the beautiful Gorgon in his arms. You don’t make it a tease, don’t make it a promise or a show, just a question.
You’ve always been good at the grammar of the body.
It is Medusa who pulls back, dark eyes heavy-lidded and mouth curving into the kind of smile you can feel in your pocket. Sam clears his throat, and you and Medusa look at him.
Feel free to continue, he drawls as polished as a courtier, but do wake me up when I can join.
Were we boring you? Medusa asks archly.
No…it’s just more fun when there is audience participation.
You smirk at them. Well, I think my opinion on this doesn’t need to be said, so-
You both look at Medusa, who looks at you both and then grins.
Lucifer’s room or yours, Jack?
FANDOM:
milliways_bar (Doctor Who-Torchwood, Waywalkers, Greco-Roman mythology)WRITTEN FOR: Prompt: Picture of John Barrowmen in briefs
CHARACTERS: Jack Harkness, Medusa, Sam Linnfer
PAIRINGS: Jack/Sam/Medusa
WORD COUNT: 1, 035
DISCLAIMER: While this version of Medusa is mine, everyone else...is not.
Little and lovely and dark, Sam had said, but the first thing you notice about Medusa is her wings. Large wings, shaped like a hunting bird’s with gold, gold feathers. Small woman, by the height and the flowing skirt. Dark ha-
Black snakes. Slender snakes, green-black to the blue-black of her slender braids, but still snakes.
That is the second thing you notice.
The third, as she turns around and raises an eyebrow at you, is that her eyes (chocolate brown, cat slit pupils, wire-framed glasses) give the somewhat uncomfortable sensation of looking directly into your soul.
(she never apologizes for that, although her smile does turn a little crooked)
~
I can’t die, you say eventually; it came up after other conversation that is more probing than your previous normal for Milliways. You admit to some curiosity about the kind of person who could get under Sam’s skin, but that’s not everything. Medusa, Medusa Gorgos who lives in Morocco and never looks at you for long, tilts her head in a movement more serpentine than not.
Immortal, or just can’t stay dead?
You pause, glass of water mid-way to your mouth as you look at her. The Gorgon, small and dark and lovely, smiles a smile quick and crooked.
It’s what I call it. A little more accurate, eyeh? She says, fingers skating along the edge of the table.
What do you see? Your voice is quiet, sharp.
Nothing.
~
She’s a sweet thing, you think. Shy, skittish, snarky.
Dangerous.
(You noticed her retractable claws the first time she twisted her fingers.)
~
Hot, is what you tell Sam the next time you see him, and he smiles smug and happy.
~
Sam Linnfer, also known as Lucifer, worries about you. Sam, the Devil, is black haired, black eyed and don’t think you didn’t miss that wild hope in his ever-young face when you told him what happened in regards to your mortality.
Brilliant in bed, too. Even when a girl (long story that can be summarized with ‘fucking Milliways’). Even with a beautiful immortal (sort of) girlfriend.
Open relationships should really, really be more common on this planet.
~
You have a theory.
Okay, call it an idea.
Okay, fine, an idle wondering while you are drifting along in that hazy not-quite-sleep in your office, because despite everything in the past one hundred and fifty years, you are still you and hot damn if it wouldn’t be interesting.
On the other hand, it’s been over a hundred and fifty years since you last had sex with someone who has wings.
(The threesome part happened just the other week.)
~
You don’t like admitting it’s just a way to distract yourself from the fact that Medusa doesn’t see anything when she fails at dying, either.
So, you don’t.
~
Sam’s good at distraction, Milliways prudery be damned, but Medusa is just plain distracting. Chime of her wings, jingle of her bracelets, hissing of her snakes and the sharp clip, clip of her sandals that stops as she takes a seat and crosses her legs.
Don’t mind me, she tells you both with a glittering smile. Sam untangles himself from your lap, gets to his feet.
Meda and he sounds uncertain, worried. You choose to be diplomatically silent.
Honestly, and her British accent is worse than normal. I’m just…oooh, I hate her.
You follow Sam’s glance to a dark-haired, light-eyed woman at the bar, watching with a cool expression.
Athena.
Mmm-hmm. Misogynistic cow and the Gorgon stands up, her movements sharp, angry, but Sam steps in and pulls her close, one arm around her waist.
I could – I could leave you offer, rising from the chair and she looks over as if startled.
Oh, I didn’t mean…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just…didn’t want to end up in the cells again. I am sorry, Jack, Lucifer. Oh, shit! Medusa is North African, all black hair and sun-darkened olive skin, and you can still see the dull flush that comes over her face.
He knows Sam says quietly, a touch resigned but he kisses her forehead anyway. You lean against the table, arms crossed.
And don’t care, you add. Medusa just bites her bottom lip.
I’m not terribly good at being…sneaky she admits. Not when I’m rattled.
Right, I heard something about you and Athena…
She cursed me. Sent the boy to cut off my head. We ended up in the cells and have loathed the very sight of each other for millennia. You can’t decide if Medusa sounds more amused or angry.
Yeah, something like that.
Her smile flickers across her face and she tilts her head. This time the movement is sharp and avian, and her expression is thoughtful. Medusa, you are finding, has never been one to hide her expression.
It’s not a terribly hard expression to decipher, either.
She glances at Sam, almost as if for permission and then, without ever quite leaving the circle of the Devil’s arms, steps forward and kisses you.
You kiss her back. Hand on her jaw, tongue careful of the fangs lying flat against the roof of her mouth (dangerous girl, you had known the first time you saw her, and this isn’t the first time you’ve had to be careful even just kissing) and you’re conscious of Sam standing there, of Sam watching you kiss the beautiful Gorgon in his arms. You don’t make it a tease, don’t make it a promise or a show, just a question.
You’ve always been good at the grammar of the body.
It is Medusa who pulls back, dark eyes heavy-lidded and mouth curving into the kind of smile you can feel in your pocket. Sam clears his throat, and you and Medusa look at him.
Feel free to continue, he drawls as polished as a courtier, but do wake me up when I can join.
Were we boring you? Medusa asks archly.
No…it’s just more fun when there is audience participation.
You smirk at them. Well, I think my opinion on this doesn’t need to be said, so-
You both look at Medusa, who looks at you both and then grins.
Lucifer’s room or yours, Jack?