im_torchwood

Eliot

Jack was on hiatus and enjoying his vacation. He'd hit Broadway and the West End, and now he had tickets to Hamilton in LA Friday night so he'd come home. Itching for a show, Jack couldn't find a musical on stage except a few local school productions. Now that Urban Legend was in the second season, high school was probably a bad look. He'd been scolded enough to know when to dial it down.

He'd found a diner, though. A diner he'd never heard of and immediately got in the car to enjoy his night.

He walked in wearing a blazer over a tshirt and shiny black trousers.

"One?" the hostess asked, then led him to a seat without waiting for an answer.

"Thanks," he smiled, taking the menu...but surveying the place.

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"Everything? Then I guess Anything Goes," he told him.

He picked up his water to sip. Finally.

Eliot only smiled at him, and walked away.

About ten minutes later, he came back with a burger - simple, but the best thing on the menu in his opinion. "I hope you're hungry," he said with a smile, and was about to ask if he wanted another drink, when the opening notes of Anything Goes started up.

"Whoops that's my cue," he said with a wink, and hopped back over to ehe bar. He took the mic and rolled his shoulders like a cat stretching in the sun.

“Times have changed,
And we’ve often rewound the clock—”

His voice was smooth and teasing, a silk ribbon winding through the melody. Unlike before, he hopped off of the bar and worked the crowd, weaving between tables with effortless grace. He didn't really bother looking anywhere else though—why would he? His attention was mostly on Jack, who was watching him intently.

Good.

He kept going, eventually upping the ante.

“The world has gone mad today,
And good’s bad today,
And black’s white today,
And day’s night today—”

He slipped effortlessly into a slow, prowling strut back toward the bar, but just before he turned, he let his fingers just barely trail the back of Jack's chair. A touch so fleeting it might have been accidental, but they both knew better.

“Anything goes!”

Eliot’s lips curled around a smirk mid-note, barely missing a beat before he finished the song.

As Eliot came off stage, Jack was on his feet clapping. The burger was barely touched- mostly picked apart and all the offensive toppings pushed aside. He'd only gotten as far as the disassembly before he'd been captivated.

Eliot glanced over at Jack, and a smile tugged at his lips. But he checked on all of his other tables, closing out a couple of them, before returning to Jack.

"You should come back every night, I could really use my own cheering section," he teased.

"I might," he said.

Jack checked his watch and looked around.

"Closing up?" he asked, the answer obvious. "Can I give you a ride? I'll be out in the lot in the black SUV."

Eliot glanced up at the clock on the wall, looked at Jack for a moment, and then nodded. "I'll be done in about ten."

Then he smiled and put a piece of paper on the table. "Here's your check."

Jack snatched it up to take to the hostess with a smile and a wink.

"I'll see you outside," he said confidently, then left while two other waitered gaped at Eliot from near the kitchen.

"Was that Jack Harkness?" one asked.

Eliot’s first thought at the question was - oh fuck of course he’s an actor or a model or something.

“He said his name was Jack,” was all he could think of to say.

"Of course he'd sit in your section," she complained. "Urban Legend is so good. I can't believe you haven't seen it."

The other waiter nodded in agreement.

"Did he give you a tip?" she asked then.

“He did,” Eliot said, not elaborating. He smirked. “Also he thinks I’m too good for this place.”

“Aren’t we all,” came the response with rolled eyes, and as Eliot closed out for the night he tried to remember what he’d heard about Urban Legends. Not really his type of show. He was more into Real Housewives.

Finally, he went outside and spotted the black SUV.

Jack was behind the driver's seat, scrolling on his phone. tap tap, tap tap, poking it with a single finger.

He looked up when he noticed movement and smiled at Eliot. The sound of the locks opening clicked loudly.

"Hey," he purred with a warm smile when Eliot opened the door.

Eliot poked his head inside first. "Hey. So you're giving me a ride home, huh?" he asked. Though at least now that he knew Jack was famous, that made him less likely to be a serial killer or something.

"If that's where you want to go," Jack nodded. "I'm sure you're beat after your shift."

"I might have some wind left in my sails," Eliot said. "We could get a drink. Or we could go to your place. Probably nicer than mine."

He really didn't see a reason to play coy here, it didn't seem like Jack was.

"Lucky you, I've got drinks at my house," Jack smiled and rolled out into the night, headed for the hills.

"I wasn't just trying to bring you home. You are really, really good," he told him as they drove.

“I know,” Eliot said as he climbed in. “Though I assumed that’s why you wanted to bring me home. You’d be awfully busy if you picked up every good looking waiter you encounter.”

"Don't judge my hobbies," Jack laughed warmly.

"I don't mind if you make me feel special," Eliot said, and buckled his seat belt before grinning at him. "I didn't know who you were, by the way. My coworker had to tell me you're an actor or whatever."

"Oh. Marvelous. I could tell...I was hoping it wouldn't come up," he said, just a little disappointed.

Jack loved the fame, but sometimes it got to be a little much.

Eliot shrugged. "If it makes you feel better I seriously could not give two shits." And it was true. "The only reason the information was useful was it made me suggest we go to your place instead of mine."

" Yeah? You don't watch the show at all?" Jack asked, sort of tickled by that.

It was getting harder and harder to meet people who didn't know details and lies alike.

"I'm more of a reader," Eliot said. Which was true, though at the same time he also watched a lot of trashy reality TV. "What's it about?"

"Urban legends," he chuckled.

"You know, Jersey Devil, Moth Man, haunted crossroads. I play Max Legend, the only FBI agent tasked with the woowoo crap. You've got to know Amy DeLaine. She's my costar," he chatted.

"That is... a really stupid name," Eliot said. "Ah, no offense. I'm sure the show is great and all, I'm sure you're great but... Max Legend?"

"I'll be sure to tell Mr. and Mrs. Legend you think they named their oddball child something dumb," he laughed.

"Watch the show. There's way more to critique than that."

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