Silver Service by a_silver_story | 32
Title: Silver Service
Author: a_silver_story
Chapter: 32/?
Genre: AU, Romance, Angsty, fluffy
Rating: NC17 / 18
Pairings: Main Pairing is Jack/Ianto. Also includes Ianto/Martha, Ianto/Tosh friendship, Ten/Tosh, Mickey/Martha (mentioned)
Warnings: M.M, rentboy!Ianto, Alternate Universe, torture (not graphic)
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know. Now pass the retcon ...
Summary: Started as a PWP, but since it's me (sorry folks!) and I really can't do things by halves, it grew and grew and grew (and not in an innuendous sort of way). Doctor Smith owns a posh Cardiff hotel, and the respectable Sixth Earl of Boeshane is coming to stay - and he brings with him some very specific demands.
The story follows Ianto from being born, meeting Toshiko and them running away together to the city, right up until Ianto is taken to work in the Doctor's hotel as a 'service' butler for - you guessed it - Jack.
Everyone's fave OTP ensues. BOO YA!
Torchwood Index/Masterlist
FIRST PART | Chapter 1
Silver Service | 31
“Lois?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No, sir.”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No, sir.”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No, sir. Not yet.”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“Not. Yet. Sir.”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No!”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No! We. Are. Not. There. Yet!”
“... are we nearly there yet?”
“NO!”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“NO!”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“ … no.”
“Are we nearl-”
Ianto banged his head on the window, giving up listening to Jack and Lois. “If you say 'Are we nearly there yet?' one more time, I'm shutting your bollocks in the window!” he snapped. Jack Harkness in a small, confined and inescapable place was fraying his nerves.
Jack fell silent, his eyes wide and his mouth firmly clamped shut. Satisfied he was going to be quiet, Ianto turned to look out of the window at the passing countryside again.
“Are we nearly there-”
Ianto shot him daggers.
“Are we nearly there now?”
“That's it!” Ianto threw his hands up. “Lois - you wind down the window, I'll hold him!”
Lois' finger was on the button already, and Jack yelled and laughed as Ianto grabbed him and managed to get him in a headlock.
“Children!” Barbara shouted from the front, and they all returned to sitting properly. Lois wound up her window.
Jack smirked to himself. “Bridget?”
Ianto could sense her tensing.
“Yes, sir?”
“We've been travelling for ages,” he sighed. “Out the city, on the plane, in the car … and I'm getting so, so, so, so bored and restless.”
“I think we're all getting bored and restless, sir,” she replied stiffly.
“I suppose ….” he pondered, and Ianto and Lois could sense what was coming, trying to stifle giggles. “... what I really would like to know ….”
Ianto squeezed his eyes shut.
“... what little piece of knowledge might make me calm down and wait patiently ….”
Lois had her handkerchief in her mouth.
“... is knowing if we might … possibly … y'know … be nearly there … yet?”
Barbara turned in her seat, glaring at them as they all laughed and giggled. “Honestly - you two! Encouraging him! I expect better!”
Jack grinned. “Are we nearly there yet, though?”
“No!”
“But are we nearly there yet?”
“No!”
“But are we nearly there yet, though?”
The screen that separated the front seats from the back started raising ominously so that Barbara wouldn't be able to hear him any more.
Jack mock-gasped in Indignation. “Booooooo!” he shouted. “You whore!”
“Mean Girls,” sighed Ianto. “It really does translate into any context.”
Jack settled down in his seat and sighed. “Lois?” he asked.
Lois steeled herself. “Yes, sir?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Erm … yes, sir.”
“It's very important.”
“I'm sure it is, sir.”
“... can I have a sweet?”
“What flavour would you like, sir?”
“Cherry, cherry, cherry, cherry, cherry!”
Ianto nudged him.
“... please!”
He sucked on his hard boiled sweet, quiet for a while, but once he'd finished it he sighed. He tapped his hands on his knees and shuffled in his seat. “Why am I in them middle?” he asked.
“So the rabid fangirls can't get to you without going through me,” Ianto replied.
“Spoilsport. You know I'd share.”
“Lisa would never forgive you.”
“What goes on tour, stays on tour.”
Ianto rolled his eyes. He watched in his peripheral vision as Jack leaned over Lois to press the intercom button to communicate with the driver.
“Hello? Janet?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I want a drink … uh ... please,” he added.
“Of course, sir.”
The screen lowered and Barbara handed back a bottle of fruit juice.
“Mmmm,” Jack sighed, swallowing down a few huge gulps. “So!” he grinned, screwing the lid back on. “Are we nearly there yet?”
~*~*~*~
Hotel living, Ianto thought to himself happily, lying on his back stretched out across his huge, soft mattress. Can't help but love it slightly.
There was a knock at his door, and with a hefty sigh he sat up. “Come in?” he called, and Jack poked his head around the door.
“Just thought I'd see how you're settling in,” he smiled.
“I'm … fine,” Ianto replied. “I've only been here two minutes, so not entirely settled just yet.”
“Good … good ….” Jack nodded. “Um … Ianto? Can I talk to you about something?”
“Um … sure?” Ianto shrugged. “Sit down and ….” he trailed off, indicating the space on the bed next to him.
“I think,” Jack began. “Since … y'know … you have to be around … I was thinking that …. maybe … no, I would … maybe I would concentrate better on … stuff … if I had a distraction from you.”
Ianto tensed slightly. “Such as?”
“I was thinking of getting a new Service Butler,” he shrugged nonchalantly.
“I see,” Ianto breathed, getting up to go and stand by the window, looking out over the city of Florence.
“Think about it: nice Italian boy. I'd share.”
Ianto spun and glared. “I don't need you to 'share' or catch your cast-offs - I have your daughter, in case you forgot! Do what the hell you like - just leave me out of it! Get out!”
Jack smiled at him infuriatingly, and exited the room slowly. He shut the door firmly behind him and left Ianto in peace.
Ianto folded his arms, still glaring at the door.
As if he'd want to share ….
Still scowling (because he was insulted by Jack's offer), Ianto returned to reclining on the bed (because Jack could do what he liked) and closed his eyes blissfully (because Jack and who he slept with was none of his concern, and, to be honest, he really didn't care. Really. He didn't).
He folded his arms across his chest.
He didn't even love Jack.
Why would he be jealous?
No reason.
None whatsoever.
Because he wasn't jealous.
Though … it had been nice to know that he was the centre of Jack's attention, even when he wasn't around. Maybe that was why he was so opposed to the idea of Jack … finding someone else ….
Especially considering how he and Jack themselves had met.
Bollocks.
Eventually, Ianto decided that he was being selfish. He had absolutely no plans of ever leaving Lisa, or being with Jack again. Expecting Jack to stay single just so that he could bask in the attention being the subject of unrequited love brings was beyond unreasonable, and Jack had absolutely no obligations to him. In fact, Jack not finding someone else who made him happy would probably make Ianto unhappy.
Even if it was a prostitute called … Mario. Or Marco. Or Luigi. Or any other stereotypically Italian name Ianto could think of.
“Watch him be called 'Casanova',” Ianto grumbled to himself as he turned onto his side. “Giacomo Casanova. I'll put money on it.”
… not that Ianto was jealous.
~*~*~*~
Ianto felt more than a little bit uncomfortable.
He was an outsider, at the edge of the dance floor, looking on as all the rich people twirled and whirled gracefully across the polished wood. He didn't even know why he'd been invited to the Conference Reception party, but there he was, in a new suit, snowy-white shirt and black bow tie, glass of champagne in his hand while he watched the dancers.
The women were walking artwork, wearing grand ball gowns in materials Ianto didn't even recognise, glittering with jewels Ianto would only dream of seeing enough money to own. They sparkled as they glided around the room, graceful, elegant and ethereal.
He tried to picture what Lisa would wear to this kind of party.
Ianto had seen her choice of wardrobe for a 'night on the town' (or lack of it), but he wondered what a formal party would bring out of her. Pale gold, he decided. Or an opalescent fish-tail, with white hair-combs decorated with diamonds and flowers.
He sipped his champagne and tried to take in more of the room.
He recognised Barbara and Lois bustling around the champagne waiters, their business suits standing out amongst the ornamental women.
“... and what's a pretty young boy like you doing in a place like this?”
Ianto jumped. “Jack!” he growled. “Sneaking up on me!”
Jack had indeed sneaked up on him from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder as he'd muttered in his ear.
“You look bored,” Jack observed, taking his champagne from him and taking a sip before handing it back.
“I was actually thinking about Lisa.”
“Looking bored isn't a good omen then, is it?” Jack pointed out, his eyes shining, a sheen of imbibed alcohol making them twinkle.
Ianto rolled his eyes, and turned back to the room. “Maybe I am bored here. I don't know anyone.”
“Point at someone, and I'll tell you if I slept with them,” Jack grinned, linking his free arm and eagerly waiting.
“Her?” Ianto asked, pointing at a beautiful young black-haired woman in a pink, floaty dress.
“Lady Carolina. English, but lives in Naples. Bit young for me.”
“So … a 'no', then?”
“That's a 'no, yes.”
“Hmm … okay ….”
Ianto surveyed the room. “Her?”
He was pointing at a middle-aged woman in a blue, shoulder-less gown leaning by the champagne pyramid with a glass that was never empty.
“Yep,” Jack nodded. “Baroness Teresa of … somewhere in Austria. Lots of money, and I needed some. Also - drunk. Easier to part with cash.”
“You're a wanker, you know that?”
“I do, actually. Who's next?”
“Him?”
“Yep. Sir Isaac Brenton.”
“Ew ….”
“I wanted to get close to his wife. So you can count her as a 'yes', too.”
“Which one's his wife? The girl he's dancing with?”
“That's his daughter. His wife was Elizabeth, and she was beautiful. Died four years ago.”
“And … the daughter? Yes or no?”
“I am trying for the complete set ….”
“Bad man, Harkness.”
Jack grinned wolfishly, then turned his attention back to the room. “So … you seen anyone who takes your fancy?”
Ianto blinked at the question. “In what way?”
“You know,” Jack said. “What goes on tour, stays on tour?”
Ianto's eyebrows shot up. “Oh my God … I'm … I … I'm not gonna cheat on Lisa!”
Jack held his hands up. “Easy ….”
“You know - one day you might learn about being honest and faithful.”
The Captain looked slightly hurt. “You're saying that like Lisa doesn't expect you to have fun - and like mother like daughter.”
“You think Lisa will be sleeping around?”
“Well … maybe not pregnant Lisa. It's just sex, Ianto. Just fun. You'd think someone like you might grasp that concept.”
“I thought we already established what I'm 'like'?”
“Yes … yes … you have this silly, naïve and romantic notion that sex is all about love, and can only ever be between two people yadda yadda yadda ….”
“You say that like I'm the one with strange values!”
“In this room: you are,” Jack shrugged.
Someone was calling the Captain from the other side of the room, and Jack waved at them a 'one moment' signal. “Loosen up?” he suggested, and before Ianto could retort he turned on his heel and strode purposefully towards a decorated General and a gaggle of high-ranking soldiers.
Ianto watched him for a moment, then turned his attention back to the dance floor. The twirling, swirling, sparkling skirts were hypnotic as the men spun the women around and around, keeping up with the steadily increasing beat of the music. He lost himself in thought for a short while, before a hand touched his upper arm gently.
“Care to dance, sir?” asked a sweet, accented, feminine voice.
Ianto turned with a polite smile, and found the beautiful Lady Carolina stood by his side. Her green eyes twinkled and creased at the corners as she smiled at him, her hair neatly and efficiently tied to the back of her head in an elegant sculpture.
“I'm afraid I don't know any dances, my Lady,” he admitted.
She laughed. “I can show you - it looks complicated, but really: it's simple.”
“I … I think I may have had too much champagne,” he tried.
“I'll hold you up,” she offered, taking the glass from him and putting it on a passing waiter's tray.
“I'm warning you:” he sighed. “I have two left feet!”
She ignored him and pulled him further onto the floor, placed his hand on her waist and held her other up, waiting for him to take it.
“We're stood awfully close,” he observed, and she simply stepped closer, stopping less than a millimetre from being pressed against him.
“We go left first,” she explained. “Relax your shoulders, darling. Left first, then guide me backwards and turn. Then left again, and you go backwards with the turn ….”
She talked him through it as they moved through the simplified routine, and Ianto felt like he was more stylized walking than dancing.
“Put a bit more grace into it, sweetheart,” Lady Carolina smiled. “We're dancing, not marching.”
He started to get more confident with the steps, and attempted more fluidity and grace. Lady Carolina seemed pleased, and allowed him to lead her a little more. Finally, they were moving around the floor with the same grace as the rest of the room, and Ianto was starting to find himself enjoying it.
“So,” asked Lady Carolina. “Nouveau Riche?
“No … I … I'm with the Captain's entourage.”
“Captain? Captain Jack Harkness?”
“The one and only - sorry, sir,” Ianto apologised for bumping into another couple.
“So … you're … not … available?”
“No … but … not … I'm his daughter's fiancé,” he hurriedly explained.
“Ahhhh!” she grinned. “Your daddy-in-law has brought you out to play?”
“I … erm … I don't really want to … um … 'play'.”
“Then why are you here? The glitz and the glamour and the opulence are all a front to hide the one reason we all really come to these draconian time-wasting parties.”
“The dancing?”
“Very funny.”
“Ianto! Ianto! There you are!” Jack grinned, bounding over. He noticed who he was dancing with. “Mind if I cut in?” he asked, and before waiting for a reply swept Lady Carolina away.
Ianto stood on his own for a moment, before walking over to the champagne pyramid and getting another glass from the table. He remained there a moment, sipping from the flute, until hands covered his eyes and blocked his vision.
“Jack!” he groaned, and pushed the hands off and turned, only just managing to contain the urge to throw his champagne all over the man behind him. “You,” he grimaced.
Harold Saxon stood before him, grinning like he'd just unexpectedly bumped into an old friend. “Dance with me,” he commanded, offering his arm.
“I don't know how,” Ianto scowled.
“You danced with Lady Carolina beautifully,” Saxon leered. “This time, I'll be leading - just follow me.”
Saxon took his champagne from him and put it on the table, and Ianto wondered if taking champagne from someone without asking was considered appropriate behaviour. Saxon had a firm grip on his wrist, however, and dragged him further onto the floor. “Put your arm under mine and rest your hand on the back of my shoulder,” he sighed when Ianto stumbled with how to hold him as the few male homosexual dancers were obscured by the grand dresses of the women twirling near them.
“What do you want?” Ianto asked through gritted teeth, concentrating on now having to do everything backwards.
“I'm very impressed with you, Mr. Jones,” smirked Saxon.
“I'm guessing it's not my dancing you're talking about.”
“Definitely not - though if you would allow me to teach you ….”
“I won't.”
“Shame,” sighed Saxon, turning them towards the centre of the dance floor, the women's dresses obscuring them from view. “I'm impressed with your little evasive tricks.”
“Evasive tricks?”
“Keeping yourself and your Captain hidden away out of my grasp - and with him so … handicapped, too.”
“Handicapped?” Ianto pretended not to know what he was talking about. “Ahhh, yes! Your little stunt with the hit men. We cured that ages ago!”
Saxon spun him a little too roughly, and Ianto felt a great sense of satisfaction at having pissed him off.
“You're not home and dry, you know,” hissed Saxon, pulling him too close. “I could have you both arrested and locked away in the blink of an eyelid.”
“But that would be too easy,” Ianto pointed out with a raised eyebrow.
Saxon smirked. “Finally! Someone who understands ....”
Ianto rolled his eyes, then changed the subject. “I hear your term of office is coming to an end soon?” he asked conversationally.
“Yes, yes,” nodded Saxon. “But the Election shall be a doddle, don't worry.”
“Of course it will,” Ianto nodded and smiled. “I can't see your lady wife anywhere, Mr. Saxon. Is she ill?”
“Lucy? No, not ill. Just otherwise incapacitated.”
“Being your lab rat starting to take its toll?”
“You're a funny young man, you know? I like that - even if you are slightly judgemental.”
“Well, you did drug me, Lisa and Jack. Intimidated Copley, conspired with Adeiola and ruined far too many lives to count.”
“And that's why the next election shall be a doddle!”
“... you're a nutjob.”
“Absolutely - and I do believe we are required to change partners.”
Ianto found himself spun awkwardly, being practically caught by another gentlemen who gave him less than a moment to find his bearings before dragging him around the dance floor. It took a couple of minutes, but finally Ianto managed to disengage himself from the dancing and leaned heavily on the champagne table. He necked back a glass, reached for another, gulped that one down and was about to go for his third when Jack's hand appeared out of nowhere and gently prised it from his fingers.
“Slow down, Ianto. You're gonna be pissed.”
“Your face is gonna be pissed!” Ianto snapped, and reached for another flute of champagne. “Didn't want to come here!” he continued. “I wanted to stay at home but you dragged me away!”
Jack managed to intercept the glass before it touched his lips. “Okay … that's enough now. What's wrong?”
“Fucking Saxon's fucking here,” Ianto fumed, picking up yet another glass. Jack tutted and removed it from him. “The bastard fucking danced with me on the fucking dance floor and he spoke a load of fucking shit - AND WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP STEALING MY FUCKING CHAMPAGNE?”
A couple of people turned to the sound of Ianto's voice, and Jack put an arm around him. “Come on … let's go upstairs ….”
Ianto squeezed his eyes shut. “Sorry.”
“It's okay. Come on.”
Jack gently guided him towards the double doors that led to the lobby and then the lifts, and Ianto slumped against the wall waiting for the doors to ping so they could get in. “You know ….” he pondered aloud. “I bet drinking so much with Saxon in the room wasn't quite so much a good idea … he could have put anything in anything in anything.”
The door slid open and Jack guided Ianto inside. “Let me know if you feel funny.”
“I feel … dizzy.”
“Are you sure it's not alcohol-induced dizziness? How many did you knock back in there?”
Ianto shrugged. “People stole so many from me I'm not entirely sure how many I managed to manage to drink.”
“I see,” smirked Jack. “Say 'supercalifradgelisticexpialidocious'.”
“Fuck you.”
“Worth a try.”
Ianto sighed, leaning on the wall of the lift, reluctant to move when the doors slid open. Jack coaxed him out, let him in his room and sat him on the bed while he went to fetch water. “Drink this.”
Ianto took the glass and sipped it slowly while Jack crouched in front of the mini bar to find something to soak up some of the alcohol. He returned with two packets of biscuits, and sat cross-legged on the bed, opening one and passing the other to Ianto. Ianto fumbled with the packaging and Jack took the pack back, opened it and handed over the biscuits.
Ianto nibbled quietly. “Are you sure he won't try and hurt us?”
“Not here,” Jack assured him.
“How can you be certain?”
“I just am. He's all about the game - by making his presence known, we're on pins. Whereas if he was going to do anything, we wouldn't spot him until the very last moment.”
“He's a wanker. I bet he'd throw a brick through your window then as for it back,” scowled Ianto, lying down and stretching out. Jack watched him, remaining cross-legged and eating his biscuit.
“Fancy putting something nasty under his door?”
“A note saying 'My cock is bigger than yours.'?”
“Even nastier … I saw a spider on my way up here. I vote we put it in an envelope and shove it under his door.”
Ianto frowned. “Mmf,” he agreed. “... but you're catching the spider.”
“Ohhhh no, no, no. I hate spiders!”
“I'm too tired to spider hunt,” complained Ianto.
“Hmph,” Jack scowled. “I know! … have you ever played 'Sea Biscuit'?”
“Erm … no … ?”
Jack's smirked turned positively filthy. “Never?”
“I don't even know what it is,” Ianto told him, raising his biscuit to his mouth and somehow managing to miss. He frowned at his empty fingers in confusion for a moment, before clocking that Jack had stolen it. “Oi!” he glared.
“We need a biscuit, and I ate both of mine.”
“Give it back!”
“Shush. We need it.”
It took Ianto a few moments to realise that Jack was unfastening his own belt and tugging his trousers and underwear down. “Er … what the fuck are you doing?”
“Sea Biscuit!” Jack grinned, touching himself.
“I don't under- Sea Bis-... sea as in … salt - oh. I think I've just realised what you're gonna do ….”
Jack laughed. “Help get me off,” he said, kneeling up.
“I don't want a part in this.”
“You can stick a part in me if you want.”
“Oh, stop it.”
“What? You threw the ball, I had to hit it. Now get me off s othat we can get this in Saxon's mailbox ASAP.”
Ianto was still lying down. He bit his lip, his eyes travelling from Jack's face to where his hand was caressing a semi. He was fairly sure Lisa would understand their juvenile attempt to get one over on Jack … and as long as they didn't have sex … and … how much champagne had he had?
He rolled his eyes, and pushed himself up. “Will this do?” he asked, moving and kneeling behind him to breathe on the back of his neck and nuzzle his hair.
Jack's head tipped back and he smiled and groaned contentedly.
“Beautiful.”
Ianto began to reach around and slip shirt buttons free clumsily, the imbibed champagne making the usually very easy action quite a challenge. Jack laughed throatily, and Ianto gave up, moving to nibble and suck and lick at his earlobe.
Jack's breath caught, so Ianto carried on, nipping a little harder, moving lower to his neck. He knew that Jack would probably want him to wank him off - or at least touch him - and despite the Captain trying to guide his hands that way south, Ianto refrained.
“C'mon, Ianto ...” Jack breathed, his chest rising and falling quickly, his back arching a little when Ianto nipped harshly by his pulse point.
Ianto was too busy concentrating to multi-task too much, and when Jack came he was too busy not getting anything on himself to make sure the biscuit was in position.
“At least I can aim,” smirked Jack, putting the biscuit on the bedside table before flopping down onto his back and tucking himself back in.
“You let me have too much champagne!”
“I tried to stop you drinking the champagne! You were the one necking it like orange juice.”
“It was free,” sniffed Ianto, lying down next to him as they both stared at the ceiling. “You can't expect me not to drink it if it's free.”
Jack turned his head to look at him. “How drunk are you?”
“Not drunk enough to fuck you.”
“Damn. Maybe I should have left you to the champagne fountain.”
“I think it shows a good strength of character and a degree of moral fibre that you didn't. I say a 'degree', cuz you just tried to make me wank you off.”
“For good reason!” grinned Jack, turning onto his side and propping his head up in his hand. “I might even find a press hound and tell them what we did with the biscuit. Get it all over the news.”
“Ew. Leave me out of that.”
Jack chuckled. “Sure thing. It'll be bad enough when hormonal Lisa finds out I was involved.”
Ianto laughed, and Jack rolled back onto his back, staring at the ceiling again as they lay together in comfortable silence.
“Ianto?”
“Mm?”
“When the baby's born … what you gonna do?”
Ianto frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean … you're gonna stay at the Big House, yeah?”
“I assume so.”
“Good. Cuz … I doubt we'd be able to breathe anywhere smaller.”
“Lisa would end up killing us both.”
“Or we'd kill each other.”
“Mmm,” agreed Ianto, and they lapsed into silence again.
“Ianto?”
“Yeah?”
“You … you are serious about … about Lisa, yeah?”
“... yeah ….”
“I was wondering … I think … I wondered if you had any plans to like … ask her to marry you?”
Ianto stiffened. “I … thought about it. Wasn't sure if … I dunno.”
“Well ... I think you should ….”
“You do?”
“Yeah.”
“I … I … I want to,” Ianto admitted. “I wasn't sure if … you'd let me. Neither of us were.”
Jack sighed heavily. “I think you should,” he repeated.
“What time are your meetings tomorrow?”
Jack shrugged.
“I could go look at rings.”
“You could. I'll get Janet to go with you. Spend as much as you like.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem,” Jack said, though he sounded slightly strained. “Anyway!” He sat up. “Let's get this biscuit sent to its rightful home ….”
~*~*~*~
“It's very … plain, sir.”
“It's less likely to get caught or damaged, though.”
“Miss Lisa doesn't really do anything that would allow for it to be caught or damaged,” reasoned Barbara.
It turned out that Florence had a lot of fine jewellery shops, and Barbara had decided to start with the most expensive and work their way down. They were currently peering into a case of engagement rings, and the one Ianto was pointing at was white gold with a single tiny diamond embedded in the band - not even held in a claw, just embedded into the band.
Barbara had her doubts, and Ianto was sort of seeing her point.
“I think she'd want something more decorative rather than practical … you're right,” he sighed. “I just don't want to spend a fortune on something she might lose or easily damage ….”
“Get the wrong ring, and she'll never forgive you. Even if you take it back and let her pick out her own, she'll never forgive you. She might even refuse to marry you - young 'ladies' are like that.”
“Have you ever been married, Barbara?”
“I never had time,” she sighed. “This case is a promising one ….” she pointed at another glass box of rings, and Ianto paused to look inside. They were still in the 'white gold' section, and the precious metal shone up at him, rubies, sapphires, emeralds and diamonds twinkling under the fluorescent bulbs.
“I want to buy her an engagement ring, not a dumbbell.”
“Believe me sir, Lisa will be after the dumbbell equivalent of a precious stone.”
Ianto sighed. “Why are we in White Gold anyway? It just looks like silver - and yellow gold would look better on Lisa.”
“White gold is more expensive.”
“But yellow would suit her.” He carried on down the aisle of glass box after glass box until they made it through to the next section of the enormous jewellery shop. “Here we go!” he smiled, then frowned into the cases. “Which one would you pick for yourself, Barbara?”
Barbara blinked. “I … I don't know, sir.”
“Have a look.” He indicated the cases. “Tell me which ones you like ….”
“Well … I … I like the rubies, sir. Like that eternity ring at the back.”
Ianto looked to where she was pointing. “Ooh - that is pretty ….” It was rose gold, with rubies alternating with small diamonds set in diagonal lines along the top of the band. “Hmmm … any others?”
“That wishbone one there,” she pointed.
This one had a v-shaped dip in the top, making the 'wishbone' shape, and emanating from one larger ruby in the middle were smaller ones, the gaps between them again filled in with tiny diamonds.
“Oh - I like that one too! I really like that one! We need to find a clerk ….”
“You … haven't looked in the rest of the shop ….” Barbara pointed out, aghast. “There could be others, and-”
“I like that one. There's an assistant!”
Ianto bought the ring, using Barbara's advice for the measurement (Ianto had a sneaking suspicion that she and Jack might have been discussing this particular shopping trip since before Florence - Barbara already knew Lisa's ring size to the millimetre …) and bought himself a matching plain band.
“Why does she get an engagement ring and I don't?” he pointed out. “I'm sure Jack'll understand.”
Barbara had tried not to roll her eyes, and as they made their way back out of the shop they found their car driver-less.
“I told that frustrating man that that driver would be unreliable,” Barbara was grumbling, taking out her phone to see if she could find out where Marco the driver had gone. “Oh … I have some missed calls ….”
As if whomever had been trying to reach her now knew that she was back in range of signal, her phone started vibrating and ringing angrily.
“Barbara Spears,” she answered politely.
Ianto could hear a lot of yelling from the other end of the phone, even on the street, and Barbara looked fairly alarmed.
“Yes, ma'am,” she was saying politely. “Yes ma'am … of course ma'am … I'll make sure to tell him, ma'am.”
She hung up the phone and took a deep breath.
“Miss Lisa would like to inform you that Miss Sato's baby is on the way ...”
Ianto's eyes widened. “We have to get Jack! We have to go back!”
“... and so is yours.”
Ianto froze. “Sorry … what?”
“Miss Lisa has gone into premature labour.”
“Find the driver … find the driver NOW!”
“Miss Lisa would also like you to know that the second she sees you again she's going to rip your bollocks off and … I don't feel comfortable repeating the rest on a crowded street.”
Ianto's eyes were wide, but his attention was grabbed by the sight of a man in black and red uniform making his way towards them.
“MARCO!” he yelled. “Get back in this car and get us back to the hotel now!!”
Barbara translated for him.
“I'm sure she'll be fine - we've got her on her way to the best hospital,” Barbara was saying.
Ianto's knuckles were white, his fists balled tight and his nails digging into his palm. “I need to ring Jack. I need to … I need to ring Jack. He needs to be ready and waiting just to leave when we get to the hotel.”
“I'll ring him for you.”
Barbara made the call quickly and professionally, before calling up Lois to inform her of the situation.
The lights turned red at every set, and the going was getting progressively slower as they fought the lunch-time city traffic.
“Why is it,” pondered Ianto aloud. “that whenever I get to a foreign country, I have to immediately go back to Wales again?”
Barbara was about to answer, when her phone buzzed again. “Barbara Spears … yes … yes … very good,” she said, snapping her phone shut. She opened the intercom and gave Marco some instructions, then turned back to Ianto. “We're heading straight for the airport. The Earl has gotten permission from Lady Carolina to use her private jet, and Lois is sorting out take off, landing and airspace clearance. We'll be there in four hours, tops.”
“Four hours? What if something happens? What if something goes wrong? Who's there with her? Who's there with Tosh?”
“Gwen Cooper and Martha Jones are both there. They'll be fine, Ianto. They'll be fine.”
Ianto flinched in pain when he realised he'd curled his fists so tight his nails had split skin. Barbara took his hand gently and held it comfortingly. “It'll be all right, Ianto. It'll be all right.”
FIN
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooof. This one was HARD to write. Don't even ask me why - I don't know. Long nights of just staring at my screen going "BUT HOW DO I USE WORDS?" ahve finally come to an end. pfft.
Stupid boys. They kept trying to hate each other.
Also:
THANKS GUYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!
Previous Part | Torchwood Index | Request a Convo/Prose Fic
Author: a_silver_story
Chapter: 32/?
Genre: AU, Romance, Angsty, fluffy
Rating: NC17 / 18
Pairings: Main Pairing is Jack/Ianto. Also includes Ianto/Martha, Ianto/Tosh friendship, Ten/Tosh, Mickey/Martha (mentioned)
Warnings: M.M, rentboy!Ianto, Alternate Universe, torture (not graphic)
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know. Now pass the retcon ...
Summary: Started as a PWP, but since it's me (sorry folks!) and I really can't do things by halves, it grew and grew and grew (and not in an innuendous sort of way). Doctor Smith owns a posh Cardiff hotel, and the respectable Sixth Earl of Boeshane is coming to stay - and he brings with him some very specific demands.
The story follows Ianto from being born, meeting Toshiko and them running away together to the city, right up until Ianto is taken to work in the Doctor's hotel as a 'service' butler for - you guessed it - Jack.
Everyone's fave OTP ensues. BOO YA!
Torchwood Index/Masterlist
FIRST PART | Chapter 1
Silver Service | 31
“Lois?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No, sir.”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No, sir.”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No, sir. Not yet.”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“Not. Yet. Sir.”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No!”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“No! We. Are. Not. There. Yet!”
“... are we nearly there yet?”
“NO!”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“NO!”
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“ … no.”
“Are we nearl-”
Ianto banged his head on the window, giving up listening to Jack and Lois. “If you say 'Are we nearly there yet?' one more time, I'm shutting your bollocks in the window!” he snapped. Jack Harkness in a small, confined and inescapable place was fraying his nerves.
Jack fell silent, his eyes wide and his mouth firmly clamped shut. Satisfied he was going to be quiet, Ianto turned to look out of the window at the passing countryside again.
“Are we nearly there-”
Ianto shot him daggers.
“Are we nearly there now?”
“That's it!” Ianto threw his hands up. “Lois - you wind down the window, I'll hold him!”
Lois' finger was on the button already, and Jack yelled and laughed as Ianto grabbed him and managed to get him in a headlock.
“Children!” Barbara shouted from the front, and they all returned to sitting properly. Lois wound up her window.
Jack smirked to himself. “Bridget?”
Ianto could sense her tensing.
“Yes, sir?”
“We've been travelling for ages,” he sighed. “Out the city, on the plane, in the car … and I'm getting so, so, so, so bored and restless.”
“I think we're all getting bored and restless, sir,” she replied stiffly.
“I suppose ….” he pondered, and Ianto and Lois could sense what was coming, trying to stifle giggles. “... what I really would like to know ….”
Ianto squeezed his eyes shut.
“... what little piece of knowledge might make me calm down and wait patiently ….”
Lois had her handkerchief in her mouth.
“... is knowing if we might … possibly … y'know … be nearly there … yet?”
Barbara turned in her seat, glaring at them as they all laughed and giggled. “Honestly - you two! Encouraging him! I expect better!”
Jack grinned. “Are we nearly there yet, though?”
“No!”
“But are we nearly there yet?”
“No!”
“But are we nearly there yet, though?”
The screen that separated the front seats from the back started raising ominously so that Barbara wouldn't be able to hear him any more.
Jack mock-gasped in Indignation. “Booooooo!” he shouted. “You whore!”
“Mean Girls,” sighed Ianto. “It really does translate into any context.”
Jack settled down in his seat and sighed. “Lois?” he asked.
Lois steeled herself. “Yes, sir?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Erm … yes, sir.”
“It's very important.”
“I'm sure it is, sir.”
“... can I have a sweet?”
“What flavour would you like, sir?”
“Cherry, cherry, cherry, cherry, cherry!”
Ianto nudged him.
“... please!”
He sucked on his hard boiled sweet, quiet for a while, but once he'd finished it he sighed. He tapped his hands on his knees and shuffled in his seat. “Why am I in them middle?” he asked.
“So the rabid fangirls can't get to you without going through me,” Ianto replied.
“Spoilsport. You know I'd share.”
“Lisa would never forgive you.”
“What goes on tour, stays on tour.”
Ianto rolled his eyes. He watched in his peripheral vision as Jack leaned over Lois to press the intercom button to communicate with the driver.
“Hello? Janet?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I want a drink … uh ... please,” he added.
“Of course, sir.”
The screen lowered and Barbara handed back a bottle of fruit juice.
“Mmmm,” Jack sighed, swallowing down a few huge gulps. “So!” he grinned, screwing the lid back on. “Are we nearly there yet?”
~*~*~*~
Hotel living, Ianto thought to himself happily, lying on his back stretched out across his huge, soft mattress. Can't help but love it slightly.
There was a knock at his door, and with a hefty sigh he sat up. “Come in?” he called, and Jack poked his head around the door.
“Just thought I'd see how you're settling in,” he smiled.
“I'm … fine,” Ianto replied. “I've only been here two minutes, so not entirely settled just yet.”
“Good … good ….” Jack nodded. “Um … Ianto? Can I talk to you about something?”
“Um … sure?” Ianto shrugged. “Sit down and ….” he trailed off, indicating the space on the bed next to him.
“I think,” Jack began. “Since … y'know … you have to be around … I was thinking that …. maybe … no, I would … maybe I would concentrate better on … stuff … if I had a distraction from you.”
Ianto tensed slightly. “Such as?”
“I was thinking of getting a new Service Butler,” he shrugged nonchalantly.
“I see,” Ianto breathed, getting up to go and stand by the window, looking out over the city of Florence.
“Think about it: nice Italian boy. I'd share.”
Ianto spun and glared. “I don't need you to 'share' or catch your cast-offs - I have your daughter, in case you forgot! Do what the hell you like - just leave me out of it! Get out!”
Jack smiled at him infuriatingly, and exited the room slowly. He shut the door firmly behind him and left Ianto in peace.
Ianto folded his arms, still glaring at the door.
As if he'd want to share ….
Still scowling (because he was insulted by Jack's offer), Ianto returned to reclining on the bed (because Jack could do what he liked) and closed his eyes blissfully (because Jack and who he slept with was none of his concern, and, to be honest, he really didn't care. Really. He didn't).
He folded his arms across his chest.
He didn't even love Jack.
Why would he be jealous?
No reason.
None whatsoever.
Because he wasn't jealous.
Though … it had been nice to know that he was the centre of Jack's attention, even when he wasn't around. Maybe that was why he was so opposed to the idea of Jack … finding someone else ….
Especially considering how he and Jack themselves had met.
Bollocks.
Eventually, Ianto decided that he was being selfish. He had absolutely no plans of ever leaving Lisa, or being with Jack again. Expecting Jack to stay single just so that he could bask in the attention being the subject of unrequited love brings was beyond unreasonable, and Jack had absolutely no obligations to him. In fact, Jack not finding someone else who made him happy would probably make Ianto unhappy.
Even if it was a prostitute called … Mario. Or Marco. Or Luigi. Or any other stereotypically Italian name Ianto could think of.
“Watch him be called 'Casanova',” Ianto grumbled to himself as he turned onto his side. “Giacomo Casanova. I'll put money on it.”
… not that Ianto was jealous.
~*~*~*~
Ianto felt more than a little bit uncomfortable.
He was an outsider, at the edge of the dance floor, looking on as all the rich people twirled and whirled gracefully across the polished wood. He didn't even know why he'd been invited to the Conference Reception party, but there he was, in a new suit, snowy-white shirt and black bow tie, glass of champagne in his hand while he watched the dancers.
The women were walking artwork, wearing grand ball gowns in materials Ianto didn't even recognise, glittering with jewels Ianto would only dream of seeing enough money to own. They sparkled as they glided around the room, graceful, elegant and ethereal.
He tried to picture what Lisa would wear to this kind of party.
Ianto had seen her choice of wardrobe for a 'night on the town' (or lack of it), but he wondered what a formal party would bring out of her. Pale gold, he decided. Or an opalescent fish-tail, with white hair-combs decorated with diamonds and flowers.
He sipped his champagne and tried to take in more of the room.
He recognised Barbara and Lois bustling around the champagne waiters, their business suits standing out amongst the ornamental women.
“... and what's a pretty young boy like you doing in a place like this?”
Ianto jumped. “Jack!” he growled. “Sneaking up on me!”
Jack had indeed sneaked up on him from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder as he'd muttered in his ear.
“You look bored,” Jack observed, taking his champagne from him and taking a sip before handing it back.
“I was actually thinking about Lisa.”
“Looking bored isn't a good omen then, is it?” Jack pointed out, his eyes shining, a sheen of imbibed alcohol making them twinkle.
Ianto rolled his eyes, and turned back to the room. “Maybe I am bored here. I don't know anyone.”
“Point at someone, and I'll tell you if I slept with them,” Jack grinned, linking his free arm and eagerly waiting.
“Her?” Ianto asked, pointing at a beautiful young black-haired woman in a pink, floaty dress.
“Lady Carolina. English, but lives in Naples. Bit young for me.”
“So … a 'no', then?”
“That's a 'no, yes.”
“Hmm … okay ….”
Ianto surveyed the room. “Her?”
He was pointing at a middle-aged woman in a blue, shoulder-less gown leaning by the champagne pyramid with a glass that was never empty.
“Yep,” Jack nodded. “Baroness Teresa of … somewhere in Austria. Lots of money, and I needed some. Also - drunk. Easier to part with cash.”
“You're a wanker, you know that?”
“I do, actually. Who's next?”
“Him?”
“Yep. Sir Isaac Brenton.”
“Ew ….”
“I wanted to get close to his wife. So you can count her as a 'yes', too.”
“Which one's his wife? The girl he's dancing with?”
“That's his daughter. His wife was Elizabeth, and she was beautiful. Died four years ago.”
“And … the daughter? Yes or no?”
“I am trying for the complete set ….”
“Bad man, Harkness.”
Jack grinned wolfishly, then turned his attention back to the room. “So … you seen anyone who takes your fancy?”
Ianto blinked at the question. “In what way?”
“You know,” Jack said. “What goes on tour, stays on tour?”
Ianto's eyebrows shot up. “Oh my God … I'm … I … I'm not gonna cheat on Lisa!”
Jack held his hands up. “Easy ….”
“You know - one day you might learn about being honest and faithful.”
The Captain looked slightly hurt. “You're saying that like Lisa doesn't expect you to have fun - and like mother like daughter.”
“You think Lisa will be sleeping around?”
“Well … maybe not pregnant Lisa. It's just sex, Ianto. Just fun. You'd think someone like you might grasp that concept.”
“I thought we already established what I'm 'like'?”
“Yes … yes … you have this silly, naïve and romantic notion that sex is all about love, and can only ever be between two people yadda yadda yadda ….”
“You say that like I'm the one with strange values!”
“In this room: you are,” Jack shrugged.
Someone was calling the Captain from the other side of the room, and Jack waved at them a 'one moment' signal. “Loosen up?” he suggested, and before Ianto could retort he turned on his heel and strode purposefully towards a decorated General and a gaggle of high-ranking soldiers.
Ianto watched him for a moment, then turned his attention back to the dance floor. The twirling, swirling, sparkling skirts were hypnotic as the men spun the women around and around, keeping up with the steadily increasing beat of the music. He lost himself in thought for a short while, before a hand touched his upper arm gently.
“Care to dance, sir?” asked a sweet, accented, feminine voice.
Ianto turned with a polite smile, and found the beautiful Lady Carolina stood by his side. Her green eyes twinkled and creased at the corners as she smiled at him, her hair neatly and efficiently tied to the back of her head in an elegant sculpture.
“I'm afraid I don't know any dances, my Lady,” he admitted.
She laughed. “I can show you - it looks complicated, but really: it's simple.”
“I … I think I may have had too much champagne,” he tried.
“I'll hold you up,” she offered, taking the glass from him and putting it on a passing waiter's tray.
“I'm warning you:” he sighed. “I have two left feet!”
She ignored him and pulled him further onto the floor, placed his hand on her waist and held her other up, waiting for him to take it.
“We're stood awfully close,” he observed, and she simply stepped closer, stopping less than a millimetre from being pressed against him.
“We go left first,” she explained. “Relax your shoulders, darling. Left first, then guide me backwards and turn. Then left again, and you go backwards with the turn ….”
She talked him through it as they moved through the simplified routine, and Ianto felt like he was more stylized walking than dancing.
“Put a bit more grace into it, sweetheart,” Lady Carolina smiled. “We're dancing, not marching.”
He started to get more confident with the steps, and attempted more fluidity and grace. Lady Carolina seemed pleased, and allowed him to lead her a little more. Finally, they were moving around the floor with the same grace as the rest of the room, and Ianto was starting to find himself enjoying it.
“So,” asked Lady Carolina. “Nouveau Riche?
“No … I … I'm with the Captain's entourage.”
“Captain? Captain Jack Harkness?”
“The one and only - sorry, sir,” Ianto apologised for bumping into another couple.
“So … you're … not … available?”
“No … but … not … I'm his daughter's fiancé,” he hurriedly explained.
“Ahhhh!” she grinned. “Your daddy-in-law has brought you out to play?”
“I … erm … I don't really want to … um … 'play'.”
“Then why are you here? The glitz and the glamour and the opulence are all a front to hide the one reason we all really come to these draconian time-wasting parties.”
“The dancing?”
“Very funny.”
“Ianto! Ianto! There you are!” Jack grinned, bounding over. He noticed who he was dancing with. “Mind if I cut in?” he asked, and before waiting for a reply swept Lady Carolina away.
Ianto stood on his own for a moment, before walking over to the champagne pyramid and getting another glass from the table. He remained there a moment, sipping from the flute, until hands covered his eyes and blocked his vision.
“Jack!” he groaned, and pushed the hands off and turned, only just managing to contain the urge to throw his champagne all over the man behind him. “You,” he grimaced.
Harold Saxon stood before him, grinning like he'd just unexpectedly bumped into an old friend. “Dance with me,” he commanded, offering his arm.
“I don't know how,” Ianto scowled.
“You danced with Lady Carolina beautifully,” Saxon leered. “This time, I'll be leading - just follow me.”
Saxon took his champagne from him and put it on the table, and Ianto wondered if taking champagne from someone without asking was considered appropriate behaviour. Saxon had a firm grip on his wrist, however, and dragged him further onto the floor. “Put your arm under mine and rest your hand on the back of my shoulder,” he sighed when Ianto stumbled with how to hold him as the few male homosexual dancers were obscured by the grand dresses of the women twirling near them.
“What do you want?” Ianto asked through gritted teeth, concentrating on now having to do everything backwards.
“I'm very impressed with you, Mr. Jones,” smirked Saxon.
“I'm guessing it's not my dancing you're talking about.”
“Definitely not - though if you would allow me to teach you ….”
“I won't.”
“Shame,” sighed Saxon, turning them towards the centre of the dance floor, the women's dresses obscuring them from view. “I'm impressed with your little evasive tricks.”
“Evasive tricks?”
“Keeping yourself and your Captain hidden away out of my grasp - and with him so … handicapped, too.”
“Handicapped?” Ianto pretended not to know what he was talking about. “Ahhh, yes! Your little stunt with the hit men. We cured that ages ago!”
Saxon spun him a little too roughly, and Ianto felt a great sense of satisfaction at having pissed him off.
“You're not home and dry, you know,” hissed Saxon, pulling him too close. “I could have you both arrested and locked away in the blink of an eyelid.”
“But that would be too easy,” Ianto pointed out with a raised eyebrow.
Saxon smirked. “Finally! Someone who understands ....”
Ianto rolled his eyes, then changed the subject. “I hear your term of office is coming to an end soon?” he asked conversationally.
“Yes, yes,” nodded Saxon. “But the Election shall be a doddle, don't worry.”
“Of course it will,” Ianto nodded and smiled. “I can't see your lady wife anywhere, Mr. Saxon. Is she ill?”
“Lucy? No, not ill. Just otherwise incapacitated.”
“Being your lab rat starting to take its toll?”
“You're a funny young man, you know? I like that - even if you are slightly judgemental.”
“Well, you did drug me, Lisa and Jack. Intimidated Copley, conspired with Adeiola and ruined far too many lives to count.”
“And that's why the next election shall be a doddle!”
“... you're a nutjob.”
“Absolutely - and I do believe we are required to change partners.”
Ianto found himself spun awkwardly, being practically caught by another gentlemen who gave him less than a moment to find his bearings before dragging him around the dance floor. It took a couple of minutes, but finally Ianto managed to disengage himself from the dancing and leaned heavily on the champagne table. He necked back a glass, reached for another, gulped that one down and was about to go for his third when Jack's hand appeared out of nowhere and gently prised it from his fingers.
“Slow down, Ianto. You're gonna be pissed.”
“Your face is gonna be pissed!” Ianto snapped, and reached for another flute of champagne. “Didn't want to come here!” he continued. “I wanted to stay at home but you dragged me away!”
Jack managed to intercept the glass before it touched his lips. “Okay … that's enough now. What's wrong?”
“Fucking Saxon's fucking here,” Ianto fumed, picking up yet another glass. Jack tutted and removed it from him. “The bastard fucking danced with me on the fucking dance floor and he spoke a load of fucking shit - AND WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP STEALING MY FUCKING CHAMPAGNE?”
A couple of people turned to the sound of Ianto's voice, and Jack put an arm around him. “Come on … let's go upstairs ….”
Ianto squeezed his eyes shut. “Sorry.”
“It's okay. Come on.”
Jack gently guided him towards the double doors that led to the lobby and then the lifts, and Ianto slumped against the wall waiting for the doors to ping so they could get in. “You know ….” he pondered aloud. “I bet drinking so much with Saxon in the room wasn't quite so much a good idea … he could have put anything in anything in anything.”
The door slid open and Jack guided Ianto inside. “Let me know if you feel funny.”
“I feel … dizzy.”
“Are you sure it's not alcohol-induced dizziness? How many did you knock back in there?”
Ianto shrugged. “People stole so many from me I'm not entirely sure how many I managed to manage to drink.”
“I see,” smirked Jack. “Say 'supercalifradgelisticexpialidocious'.”
“Fuck you.”
“Worth a try.”
Ianto sighed, leaning on the wall of the lift, reluctant to move when the doors slid open. Jack coaxed him out, let him in his room and sat him on the bed while he went to fetch water. “Drink this.”
Ianto took the glass and sipped it slowly while Jack crouched in front of the mini bar to find something to soak up some of the alcohol. He returned with two packets of biscuits, and sat cross-legged on the bed, opening one and passing the other to Ianto. Ianto fumbled with the packaging and Jack took the pack back, opened it and handed over the biscuits.
Ianto nibbled quietly. “Are you sure he won't try and hurt us?”
“Not here,” Jack assured him.
“How can you be certain?”
“I just am. He's all about the game - by making his presence known, we're on pins. Whereas if he was going to do anything, we wouldn't spot him until the very last moment.”
“He's a wanker. I bet he'd throw a brick through your window then as for it back,” scowled Ianto, lying down and stretching out. Jack watched him, remaining cross-legged and eating his biscuit.
“Fancy putting something nasty under his door?”
“A note saying 'My cock is bigger than yours.'?”
“Even nastier … I saw a spider on my way up here. I vote we put it in an envelope and shove it under his door.”
Ianto frowned. “Mmf,” he agreed. “... but you're catching the spider.”
“Ohhhh no, no, no. I hate spiders!”
“I'm too tired to spider hunt,” complained Ianto.
“Hmph,” Jack scowled. “I know! … have you ever played 'Sea Biscuit'?”
“Erm … no … ?”
Jack's smirked turned positively filthy. “Never?”
“I don't even know what it is,” Ianto told him, raising his biscuit to his mouth and somehow managing to miss. He frowned at his empty fingers in confusion for a moment, before clocking that Jack had stolen it. “Oi!” he glared.
“We need a biscuit, and I ate both of mine.”
“Give it back!”
“Shush. We need it.”
It took Ianto a few moments to realise that Jack was unfastening his own belt and tugging his trousers and underwear down. “Er … what the fuck are you doing?”
“Sea Biscuit!” Jack grinned, touching himself.
“I don't under- Sea Bis-... sea as in … salt - oh. I think I've just realised what you're gonna do ….”
Jack laughed. “Help get me off,” he said, kneeling up.
“I don't want a part in this.”
“You can stick a part in me if you want.”
“Oh, stop it.”
“What? You threw the ball, I had to hit it. Now get me off s othat we can get this in Saxon's mailbox ASAP.”
Ianto was still lying down. He bit his lip, his eyes travelling from Jack's face to where his hand was caressing a semi. He was fairly sure Lisa would understand their juvenile attempt to get one over on Jack … and as long as they didn't have sex … and … how much champagne had he had?
He rolled his eyes, and pushed himself up. “Will this do?” he asked, moving and kneeling behind him to breathe on the back of his neck and nuzzle his hair.
Jack's head tipped back and he smiled and groaned contentedly.
“Beautiful.”
Ianto began to reach around and slip shirt buttons free clumsily, the imbibed champagne making the usually very easy action quite a challenge. Jack laughed throatily, and Ianto gave up, moving to nibble and suck and lick at his earlobe.
Jack's breath caught, so Ianto carried on, nipping a little harder, moving lower to his neck. He knew that Jack would probably want him to wank him off - or at least touch him - and despite the Captain trying to guide his hands that way south, Ianto refrained.
“C'mon, Ianto ...” Jack breathed, his chest rising and falling quickly, his back arching a little when Ianto nipped harshly by his pulse point.
Ianto was too busy concentrating to multi-task too much, and when Jack came he was too busy not getting anything on himself to make sure the biscuit was in position.
“At least I can aim,” smirked Jack, putting the biscuit on the bedside table before flopping down onto his back and tucking himself back in.
“You let me have too much champagne!”
“I tried to stop you drinking the champagne! You were the one necking it like orange juice.”
“It was free,” sniffed Ianto, lying down next to him as they both stared at the ceiling. “You can't expect me not to drink it if it's free.”
Jack turned his head to look at him. “How drunk are you?”
“Not drunk enough to fuck you.”
“Damn. Maybe I should have left you to the champagne fountain.”
“I think it shows a good strength of character and a degree of moral fibre that you didn't. I say a 'degree', cuz you just tried to make me wank you off.”
“For good reason!” grinned Jack, turning onto his side and propping his head up in his hand. “I might even find a press hound and tell them what we did with the biscuit. Get it all over the news.”
“Ew. Leave me out of that.”
Jack chuckled. “Sure thing. It'll be bad enough when hormonal Lisa finds out I was involved.”
Ianto laughed, and Jack rolled back onto his back, staring at the ceiling again as they lay together in comfortable silence.
“Ianto?”
“Mm?”
“When the baby's born … what you gonna do?”
Ianto frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean … you're gonna stay at the Big House, yeah?”
“I assume so.”
“Good. Cuz … I doubt we'd be able to breathe anywhere smaller.”
“Lisa would end up killing us both.”
“Or we'd kill each other.”
“Mmm,” agreed Ianto, and they lapsed into silence again.
“Ianto?”
“Yeah?”
“You … you are serious about … about Lisa, yeah?”
“... yeah ….”
“I was wondering … I think … I wondered if you had any plans to like … ask her to marry you?”
Ianto stiffened. “I … thought about it. Wasn't sure if … I dunno.”
“Well ... I think you should ….”
“You do?”
“Yeah.”
“I … I … I want to,” Ianto admitted. “I wasn't sure if … you'd let me. Neither of us were.”
Jack sighed heavily. “I think you should,” he repeated.
“What time are your meetings tomorrow?”
Jack shrugged.
“I could go look at rings.”
“You could. I'll get Janet to go with you. Spend as much as you like.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem,” Jack said, though he sounded slightly strained. “Anyway!” He sat up. “Let's get this biscuit sent to its rightful home ….”
~*~*~*~
“It's very … plain, sir.”
“It's less likely to get caught or damaged, though.”
“Miss Lisa doesn't really do anything that would allow for it to be caught or damaged,” reasoned Barbara.
It turned out that Florence had a lot of fine jewellery shops, and Barbara had decided to start with the most expensive and work their way down. They were currently peering into a case of engagement rings, and the one Ianto was pointing at was white gold with a single tiny diamond embedded in the band - not even held in a claw, just embedded into the band.
Barbara had her doubts, and Ianto was sort of seeing her point.
“I think she'd want something more decorative rather than practical … you're right,” he sighed. “I just don't want to spend a fortune on something she might lose or easily damage ….”
“Get the wrong ring, and she'll never forgive you. Even if you take it back and let her pick out her own, she'll never forgive you. She might even refuse to marry you - young 'ladies' are like that.”
“Have you ever been married, Barbara?”
“I never had time,” she sighed. “This case is a promising one ….” she pointed at another glass box of rings, and Ianto paused to look inside. They were still in the 'white gold' section, and the precious metal shone up at him, rubies, sapphires, emeralds and diamonds twinkling under the fluorescent bulbs.
“I want to buy her an engagement ring, not a dumbbell.”
“Believe me sir, Lisa will be after the dumbbell equivalent of a precious stone.”
Ianto sighed. “Why are we in White Gold anyway? It just looks like silver - and yellow gold would look better on Lisa.”
“White gold is more expensive.”
“But yellow would suit her.” He carried on down the aisle of glass box after glass box until they made it through to the next section of the enormous jewellery shop. “Here we go!” he smiled, then frowned into the cases. “Which one would you pick for yourself, Barbara?”
Barbara blinked. “I … I don't know, sir.”
“Have a look.” He indicated the cases. “Tell me which ones you like ….”
“Well … I … I like the rubies, sir. Like that eternity ring at the back.”
Ianto looked to where she was pointing. “Ooh - that is pretty ….” It was rose gold, with rubies alternating with small diamonds set in diagonal lines along the top of the band. “Hmmm … any others?”
“That wishbone one there,” she pointed.
This one had a v-shaped dip in the top, making the 'wishbone' shape, and emanating from one larger ruby in the middle were smaller ones, the gaps between them again filled in with tiny diamonds.
“Oh - I like that one too! I really like that one! We need to find a clerk ….”
“You … haven't looked in the rest of the shop ….” Barbara pointed out, aghast. “There could be others, and-”
“I like that one. There's an assistant!”
Ianto bought the ring, using Barbara's advice for the measurement (Ianto had a sneaking suspicion that she and Jack might have been discussing this particular shopping trip since before Florence - Barbara already knew Lisa's ring size to the millimetre …) and bought himself a matching plain band.
“Why does she get an engagement ring and I don't?” he pointed out. “I'm sure Jack'll understand.”
Barbara had tried not to roll her eyes, and as they made their way back out of the shop they found their car driver-less.
“I told that frustrating man that that driver would be unreliable,” Barbara was grumbling, taking out her phone to see if she could find out where Marco the driver had gone. “Oh … I have some missed calls ….”
As if whomever had been trying to reach her now knew that she was back in range of signal, her phone started vibrating and ringing angrily.
“Barbara Spears,” she answered politely.
Ianto could hear a lot of yelling from the other end of the phone, even on the street, and Barbara looked fairly alarmed.
“Yes, ma'am,” she was saying politely. “Yes ma'am … of course ma'am … I'll make sure to tell him, ma'am.”
She hung up the phone and took a deep breath.
“Miss Lisa would like to inform you that Miss Sato's baby is on the way ...”
Ianto's eyes widened. “We have to get Jack! We have to go back!”
“... and so is yours.”
Ianto froze. “Sorry … what?”
“Miss Lisa has gone into premature labour.”
“Find the driver … find the driver NOW!”
“Miss Lisa would also like you to know that the second she sees you again she's going to rip your bollocks off and … I don't feel comfortable repeating the rest on a crowded street.”
Ianto's eyes were wide, but his attention was grabbed by the sight of a man in black and red uniform making his way towards them.
“MARCO!” he yelled. “Get back in this car and get us back to the hotel now!!”
Barbara translated for him.
“I'm sure she'll be fine - we've got her on her way to the best hospital,” Barbara was saying.
Ianto's knuckles were white, his fists balled tight and his nails digging into his palm. “I need to ring Jack. I need to … I need to ring Jack. He needs to be ready and waiting just to leave when we get to the hotel.”
“I'll ring him for you.”
Barbara made the call quickly and professionally, before calling up Lois to inform her of the situation.
The lights turned red at every set, and the going was getting progressively slower as they fought the lunch-time city traffic.
“Why is it,” pondered Ianto aloud. “that whenever I get to a foreign country, I have to immediately go back to Wales again?”
Barbara was about to answer, when her phone buzzed again. “Barbara Spears … yes … yes … very good,” she said, snapping her phone shut. She opened the intercom and gave Marco some instructions, then turned back to Ianto. “We're heading straight for the airport. The Earl has gotten permission from Lady Carolina to use her private jet, and Lois is sorting out take off, landing and airspace clearance. We'll be there in four hours, tops.”
“Four hours? What if something happens? What if something goes wrong? Who's there with her? Who's there with Tosh?”
“Gwen Cooper and Martha Jones are both there. They'll be fine, Ianto. They'll be fine.”
Ianto flinched in pain when he realised he'd curled his fists so tight his nails had split skin. Barbara took his hand gently and held it comfortingly. “It'll be all right, Ianto. It'll be all right.”
FIN
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooof. This one was HARD to write. Don't even ask me why - I don't know. Long nights of just staring at my screen going "BUT HOW DO I USE WORDS?" ahve finally come to an end. pfft.
Stupid boys. They kept trying to hate each other.
Also:
THANKS GUYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!
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