Pairing/Characters: Andy Davidson and Jack Harkness
Disclaimer: Torchwood and their characters belong to the BBC.
Summary: Andy gets a first real look at what he will never have.
Notes: Thanks to [info]cruentum for issuing me (yet another) challenge to write something for the Comment Porn Battle. (Finally did!). This had absolutely no betas, but thanks to [info]onebrightroad for helping me to solve a wee little problem. Enjoy!
Andy was coming to regret his offer to take P.C. Smith's night shift. It was bloody cold out here. Even with gloves his fingers ached, and his breath curled around his face as he walked up the empty street. He didn’t like this beat, he decided, quite glad he no longer had to work the night shifts.
But it wasn't only the cold and the empty night crowding in that made him wish he were anywhere but here. Dilwyn’s beat depressed him. Litter clogged the kerbs, sidewalks cracked by the insidious invasion of determined weeds, empty shops, some of which were boarded up, others starkly empty. This was a neighborhood in serious decline. He felt sorry for anyone who lived here. Felt sorry for Dilwyn who, as a first-year rookie, was stuck with this territory.
Not a soul in sight. Not a sound except off in the distance where people apparently preferred to be, in a warm pub sharing a pint and a laugh and a song. Where he would have been if not for his momentary insanity. Not that he regretted helping out a mate, especially given his first kid had decided on a surprise appearance in his dad's first half hour on his shift. It'd been the right thing to do.
"Thank you, thank you Andy! I'm a dad!" He'd wrapped Andy up in a bear hug, nearly lifting Andy from his feet before dropping him back to the floor. "The shift's easy, I promise. Nothing ever happens on my shift." He'd clapped Andy hard on the shoulder. "Just don't fall asleep!" He'd hugged Andy again. "I'm a dad!"
Andy chuckled to himself as he stepped off the kerb and crossed the street. He stifled a yawn, wishing something, anything, would happen to break the monotony. His wish was granted seconds later when a car passed, radio blaring and window down. In a moment it turned the corner and was gone, and he was alone again.
He hoped that wouldn't be the highlight to his night.
Though he had Dilwyn's hurried instructions regarding his usual walking path stuffed in his pocket, Andy found himself ambling along, swinging his baton, just letting his steps take him where they wanted. Not like anyone was in dire need of his assistance. Dilwyn hadn't been joking when he said his shift might put him to sleep. He yawned again.
Following the car's path, he turned the corner onto yet another deserted street. Except, however, for a large black car with blue lights above the back window and on the right front panel sitting just outside a street lamp's pool of light. If the car was turned on, he couldn't hear it.
What was a posh car like that doing in a place like this?
He stopped, frowned. Looked around, saw no one. Crossing the street, baton stilled now, he approached the car. Black, big, looked like a Range Rover, but...not. He stepped into the pool of light, folded his arms across his chest and stared at it. He walked around the vehicle, waiting for its occupant to acknowledge his presence, but to his surprise, on closer inspection there didn't seem to be anyone in it.
"Bloody hell," he muttered, looking around. "Stupid."
Though nothing apparently happened around here, it didn't mean nothing would. If he had a car like this, he certainly wouldn't leave it here. Especially not with the engine running.
Andy clipped his baton to his belt and contemplated the vehicle. It was nice. He'd never been this close to a Range Rover before. Not the usual car for a bloke like him. His fingers itched to touch it. But, a car like this was no doubt rigged with fancy alarms. He wondered what it would be like inside, started to reach for the door handle, dropped his hand.
He walked back to the rear of the vehicle, his fingers clenching for that one touch, to see what it felt like. Which of course was ridiculous. It was just a car, and... Andy frowned. Vaguely familiar. The dark windows, fancy blue lights, and... He hunkered down to look closer at the license plate. Definitely not the average license plate. Government maybe? Where had he seen it before?
Then he remembered. Two weeks before, he and Gwen had driven up on what they thought was an accident. A truck had driven off the side of the road. Bystanders stood gaping, an ambulance arrived at the scene. Other cops were already there, so they started to bypass the incident when a black car--this black car, had roared up the street, skidding to an expert stop mere inches from the ambulance.
Andy had stopped their car, and with a glance at Gwen, rolled down the window. Seconds later some bloke in a grey coat got out on the driver's side, and started strutting about, barking in a commanding voice.
"Who does he think he is?" Gwen asked.
Andy had just shrugged, as a tall woman with long brown hair and another bloke got out of the car and followed. Seconds later, as they watched, everyone, including the ambulance, had gone except for the last arrivals.
Grey coat turned and saw them, stared at them for a moment. With one gesture of his hand, he motioned them to drive on. They did so, but as they'd passed that black car, Andy remembered shaking his head in admiration.
"What a beauty," Andy had said, making Gwen laugh.
"You and cars. Maybe someday you'll get one of those, Andy."
"Not bloody likely on a P.C.'s salary."
"Maybe you can ask them if you can sit in it," she teased. "Honk the horn."
"Shut up, Gwen." But he'd laughed too.
But, he'd really liked that car. Curious enough about it to look it up on the internet. Range Rover. Leather interior. Posh. He bet it drove as if the ground were a cloud. Just the thought owning one of those someday made him excited. Embarrassingly so. He'd certainly never told Gwen that. The next day, she told him the mystery people were Torchwood. She then was warned not to ask anything else. They'd both thought that strange, but had shrugged it off. They had enough to worry about on their shift, which was definitely nothing like this one.
And now, here it was. Right in front of him, empty, no one around, just sitting here. He pushed himself up, touching the vehicle. Panicked, he waited for its alarms to go off...nothing.
He let his breath out in a shaky swoosh. Whoever owned this hadn't locked it? Stupid!
He swallowed, blinked. Looked around, still no one. And he could touch it. His pulse raced with excitement. The Torchwood car right here! He stared at it for a moment, breath coming out in little puffs into the cold night air. He wished it were open. Just to sit inside for a moment, get warm...if the owner came, he could lecture him on his stupidity, give him a ticket and go away. Sometimes being a P.C. had its advantages.
He touched the door handle. Curled his fingers around it, and pulled. The door popped open. His heart violently skipped a beat.
"Shit." Wide-eyed, he looked around again. No one, nothing, and here he was, touching the Torchwood vehicle, opening its door and it tantalized him, he could smell it, the leather, the mystery... He nearly moaned, his fucking cock stiffened, and he thought if someone offed him right then he'd die a happy man.
He slid inside. Closed the door, gasping with excitement. He was inside! Andy couldn't believe it. He shifted, his trousers suddenly unbelievably tight. He had a hard-on for a car! But this wasn't just any car, he thought as he stroked the seat beneath him.
Placing his hands on the steering wheel, he quickly took off his gloves, placed his hands back. He closed his eyes as flesh met leather, took a deep breath as the richness of its scent went straight to his groin. He dropped his left hand to his crotch, and squeezed. And the seat, leather too, and unbelievable. He wanted to sink into it, wallow in the bliss. Shit he thought, his face heating but it wasn't like anyone was around, right?
Opening his eyes, he glided his hand over the dashboard, caught now by the posh instrument panel. There were things on there he'd never seen before. He'd never imagined--what were these things? He rubbed his cock, aching now, but he couldn't help touching the computer in wonder. A full computer? In a car? Who were these people?
Taking a deep breath he sat back in the seat, eyes closed, hand on his aching cock. He needed to wank, bad. Then he opened his eyes--and yelped. That bloke with the grey coat stood, feet apart, arms crossed, on the sidewalk by the car's front bumper.
Fumbling with the door, hoping to hell his hard on would just go away he stumbled out of the car. Straightened his uniform, mouth gaping.
"Right. Then," he stammered. "Is this your vehicle? Sir?"
Grey coat's expression did not waver. "I believe you know the answer to that," he glanced at Andy's chest, "P.C. Davidson."
Andy gulped, his hand on his baton. Grey coat's gaze slid down too, and one eyebrow raised. Fuck fuck fuck! Andy had to fight not to cover himself with his hand. His cock was not heeding his plea, either. "Yes. That's me, P.C. Davidson, walking my territory."
"Where is P.C. Smith?"
Andy startled, stared. "You know Dilwyn?"
The bloke smiled humorlessly. "Of course. Don't tell me. His wife had her baby?"
Andy slowly nodded. "Yes, it came so fast Dil didn't have time to get there."
"That's too bad. Boy or girl."
Grey coat smiled. "Good. He was hoping for a girl. He'll be a great dad. How'd you like the car?" He glanced down at Andy's crotch. "Never mind. I think I know."
Andy glanced back at the car. The door was still open. He pushed it closed. "It is..." He glanced at the bloke again. "Bloody awesome!"
Grey coat unfolded his arms, closed the distance between them. Put a hand on Andy's shoulder, cocked his head and nodded with a smile. "Damn right it is. Glad you enjoyed it." Then his smile faded. "Don't ever do that again. This is Torchwood. Not your concern. Goodbye, P.C. Davidson. Tell Dil congratulations."
All Andy could do was nod. Once released, Andy took a step backward and turned on his heel. It took all his control not to run to the nearest alley.