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Wishlist 2010

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This story is No. 2 in the series "Wishlists". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Twenty-four gifts for twenty-four people giving me twenty-four prompts. Ficlet collection. Part II. - Now Up: To The Ground! verse Christmas fluff.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > General > Ficlet Collections - Other(Past Moderator)FaithUnbreakableFR152440,119311737,37030 Nov 1024 Dec 10Yes

you, me and a twig - BtVS/Dr Who

Warnings: Utter crack. With twigs.

Prompt: bunny_chan85 asked for BtVS/TW, Buffy/Jack, Capacity!verse, a nice Buffy/Jack story.


you, me and a twig


After he traveled through time for the first time, the man now known as Captain Jack Harkness was pretty sure nothing could surprise him anymore. That notion lasted right up until he was faced with an angry pre-historic mob armed with clubs and spears five minutes later.

Years later, waking with two years of his memory missing and a kill order hanging over his head, he thought it again: Now I’ve seen everything.

He felt old and jaded and angry and so, so bitter. And then a pretty blonde came flying out of the sky in the middle of the Blitz and Jack promised himself, very quietly, to not think he couldn’t be surprised anymore. It was like a jinx and it always backfired. He still had the scar one of the mob-people had given him with his spear. That ought to be reminder enough.

Of course, Jack isn’t exactly an expert in keeping promises, so that one lasted only for a few days. Hanging around the Doctor tends to do that to a person.

Only then his childhood crush showed up on a random planet in a random century, smiled widely and sadly and called the Doctor ‘daddy’ and he thought, Scratch that, this time I really have seen everything.

Buffy, being the Doctor’s flesh and blood (or at least DNA), naturally lives to prove him wrong.


It’s Tuesday, according to the TARDIS, when Jack rolls out of bed and stumbles into the ship’s kitchen to find the female Time Lord standing on a step ladder, her ear pressed against the strangely soft wall of the TARDIS, stroking with one hand and cooing. In her free hand, she is holding an old marmalade jar and a pair of lime green scissors.

Jack blinks owlishly and rubs his eyes. Nope, still happening.

He turns to the Doctor, who’s sitting on a bench the TARDIS is conveniently supplying this morning, sipping a cup of Earl Grey and watching his daughter the way he tends to, with stars and wonder in his eyes. Jack never thought he’d ever call the Doctor anything but sharp, bright and dangerous, but here he is, looking absolutely sappy and domesticated.

He also doesn’t seem confused by the fact that Buffy is cuddling a wall and armed with scissors that blind you long before they get within cutting range of you.

So Jack sighs mentally, briefly wishes Rose were here so he’d have reinforcements. You know, of the sane kind. Then has asks, “What are you- “

He gets shushed violently from two directions and the Doctor glares at him fiercely. Buffy keeps her eyes close and after a moment, her nose uncrinkles.

She coos something in a low voice and suddenly, something that looks half like a twig, half like a coral (a coral twig?) sprouts from the piece of wall she’s making love to and Buffy jumps and cheers, almost falling off her ladder. Jack surges forward and catches her around the waist even though she’s already found her feet again.

So he likes being the dashing hero. Sue him.

He regrets is a second later when the Time Lord (Lady?) screeches into his ear, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Not aimed at him, he realizes belatedly. At the wall.

She disentangles herself from his helping hands and stretches up, scissors in hand, jar held under the tiny, tiny twig. With a low apology and a little snip she cuts the twig off and it lands in the jar, which, now that she’s holding it up, Jack can see isn’t as empty as he first thought. There’s some kind of lurid yellow jelly at the bottom that wobbles obligingly as the twig sinks into it, cut-off end first.

Buffy throws the scissors behind her carelessly, almost beheading her father, and screws a lid with holes in it onto the jar before brandishing it at the Doctor, who smiles as brightly as she does. “Take good care of her,” he says, fondly and sternly.

She nods and bounces in place, hugging her jar close. The Doctor stands and quietly slips out of the room with his cup, muttering about waking Rose for a little jaunt to wherever. Jack is left alone with Buffy and the Jar.

He doesn’t know why, but he is pretty sure the Jar needs to be capitalized.

“Erm,” he starts after a minute of watching the silent Jar-cuddling going on. “What is that, darling?”

She lowers the Jar and glares at him, nose scrunching up again. “Who, Jack. She’s a who, not a what.”

He raises his hands (look Ma, nothing in them) and backs off. “Okay. Wow. Who is that?”

“She’s a baby.”

Oh. Well, that explains… absolutely nothing.


“A baby,” Buffy reiterates, as if he’s the one with his head not quite straight.

“A baby what?”

“A baby TARDIS, of course. What do you think?”

He takes a deep breath and thinks of something witty to say, comes up empty-handed, as he is wont to do on a ship run by two lunatics, and admits, “I have no idea.”

She huffs and pets the Jar, which definitely deserves its capitals. “The TARDIS is organic, okay?”

He nods. It’s kind of obvious, what with her being telepathic.

“We used to grow them, back on… back before the Time War. But the plantations all went up with the planet, so now the old lady,” she pats the piece of wall nearest to her and it turns a light pink, as if blushing, “Is the last of her kind. And she just gave me a baby. In five to ten years,” she rattles the Jar, very, very gently, “I’ll have my own TARDIS to discover time and space with.”

She beams at him and she looks so, so happy.

All Jack can ask is, “You’re leaving?”

“Five to ten years,” she repeats, looking pointedly at the tiny, tiny twig that will one day be a big, time traveling space ship.

“Yeah, but then you’re leaving.”

She frowns at him as he says that, like she’s trying to figure something out and then brightens again as she finds what she’s looking for. “Would you like to come with me when I do?” she asks, sweetly and openly.

Jack shrugs coyly and then gives up the ploy to smile brightly at her and nod. “Yes,” he admits and then realizes that he’s currently making plans for five to ten years in the future and that is…

That is an entirely new level of crazy.

And Buffy, being the super smart, beautiful, well travelled and experienced woman that she is, understands his sudden burst of panic completely wrong. “You don’t have to, you know,” she back pedals, hugging the Jar to her chest. “It just thought, you know, if you’re still hanging around then, you might want to. It’s not…”

Jack interrupts her with a hand clamped over her mouth but she’s so into her rant that she takes a full two seconds to register what he’s doing. She licks his hand by reflex. He rolls his eyes, also by reflex. And to think he had a serious case of hero worship going on for that woman when he was a kid.

“Buffy?” he asks and waits for her to nod before removing his slightly damp hand. “Stop being stupid.”

She huffs. “But you…, be serious, Jack. We’re both not good at stable things. I mean, look at me.” She holds up the Jar again and Jack thinks, distractedly, that they’re going to have to name it, because he’s not calling it – her – Jar for the next five to ten years. “I found my only family again after a century alone and here I am, planning to set out of my own. And you’re a time agent-“

“Former,” he interrupts.

Former time agent. Neither of us is very good at stable and just because me and Mini here are making plans, that doesn’t mean that…”

She’s being stupid again and he warned her. So he swoops in and kisses her because at least with her tongue busy she can’t talk and he can think. By the time they come up for air, the Jar squished uncomfortably between them, he has it kind of figured out, he thinks, and tries the words.

“You’re right.” Because she is and Jack is still Jack, no matter how head over heels he is for this woman, this life. There’s always a chance that he’s going to run off with someone else or get into shenanigans and die or fall back into old habits and do something the Doctor (or Buffy) won’t forgive. There’s a chance she’ll get fed up with him or he’ll get fed up with her or they’ll both grow too antsy to stand each other another second. All possible. “But I’d love to take that twig for a spin, once she’s all grown up.”

Buffy breathes against his lips, very quietly and surprised for a moment, and then she laughs into his mouth and kisses him again.

Jack wraps a hand around her smaller one and the Jar and raises them to eyelevel. “We’ll need to name her,” he says, completely seriously.


So yeah. This? Girl with future ship in a Jar?

He’s really seen everything now.


They may or may not name the baby TARDIS Twig In Jar, Tij for short.

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