Torchwood IMs: Ianto + Rhys = Police Escort
Title: Ianto + Rhys = Police Escort
Chapter: 63
Characters: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, PC Andy Davidson
Author: a_silver_story
Genre Humour. smut
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: M.M, cuss
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.
Summary: Jack is left home alone in the hub, Ianto and Rhys go out drinking and PC Andy winds up on the beat with a crazy lady who tells stray cats about her day. Smut makes it better, I promise.
FIRST PART | Ianto and Gwen's IM's
PREVIOUS | Torchwood Index/Masterlist
63 |
PC Andy Davidson was on desk duty. It was a Monday, so it was quiet, and there were no drunkards to sign in or fighters to subdue or joy riders to escort home. Still: better than being on the beat.
The phone on the desk started ringing.
Change of rota.
Andy was needed on the streets while another PC with a broken leg took over the desk.
Fucktabulous.
~*~*~*~
“... and that’s why everyone should own at least three cats.” finished Annie.
“Mmmm.” replied Andy, sitting behind the wheel and wishing he was bouncing off the bonnet and obtaining mild concussion instead. He could get out of the car containing this mildly insane woman, who was supposedly a PC, at any rate. He sighed heavily, thinking he now totally understood why this woman’s partner had probably broken his leg on purpose.
They were crawling through the dark streets of Cardiff, keeping a lookout for any kind of disturbance that would warrant their attention. Monday night was usually uneventful, and this one wasn’t really any different. So far, they’d only had a to tell a small group of rowdy students to shut up, they’re waking the babies. Andy was just about to turn the car around and start heading back to the station when his radio crackled.
Two white males, mid-twenties to mid-thirties, drunken and rowdy behaviour on the streets, seen heading towards Bute Park. Needed to be escorted home before they passed out, by the sounds of things.
Great.
Babysitting the local drunkards. This was what policing was all about.
Andy thought about the interview he’d been promised at Torchwood. Only one more month to go.
~*~*~*~
Andy couldn’t believe it when he got out of his police car and saw who the two drunkards were. On one side of the coin, all his Christmases had come at once. Blackmail for life. On the other, he was going to have to put up with a very drunk Ianto Jones and Rhys Williams for the next half hour at least.
“’Scuse me, gentlemen.” he started, authoritatively. They turned with difficulty, and Andy could see just how pissed they really were. They’d been having to walk leaning on each other, counterbalancing the fact that neither could actually physically balance at all. Having to move as one and work together as best they could, they were slowly dragging themselves down the street and laughing hysterically as they did so.
“Hellow Andy.” slurred Jones. “Could you tell us wherrrre to get to you know that place and the oooooo! Look at that cat!” he pointed drunkenly, and Andy turned to see Annie crouched by a bedraggled tabby cat and cooing at it in an annoying high-pitched voice.
“Look ... I’m gonna have to escort you home.” Andy told them. They looked at each other, mirroring each other’s slightly panicked expressions.
“You can’t take me back to Gwen in this state ...” drabbled Rhys.
“Jack’ll do a nutjob if I have to get essssssscorted home ...” tumbled Ianto.
“Where else can you go?” asked Andy. “I can’t take you somewhere you can’t be supervised in that state.”
“Cells?” offered Ianto. Rhys nodded vigorously, losing his balance and flailing to grab on to Ianto. They both tumbled to the ground sniggering.
“You can only go to the cells if you’ve been violent and disorderly. Besides ... you might get a criminal record.”
Ianto, sat on the floor with his legs wide and his knees slightly drawn up waved away Andy’s concerns. “I’ll wipe it tomorra. Cells it is then!”
Andy was just about to open his mouth to argue, when a squeal behind him cut his speech short. He spun round, and saw Annie holding her bloody face just as the nonchalant tail of the tabby disappeared into the shadows of a bush. It had taken a swipe at her.
“Right ... get in the back, you two.” he ordered. “Annie, we’ll get you to A&E, then deal with them.” She was crying profusely, but nodded anyway.
They got in the car to find that Rhys and Ianto had already settled themselves and begun exploring. Ianto was pressing the button that controlled the window repeatedly, marvelling about how windows in the back never went all the way down. “How does the window know it’s only half way down?” he asked Rhys.
"Only half the door's hugging it." said Rhys, serious.
"Awwwww. The door and the window are in love!" cooed Ianto.
The car started moving, and Ianto leaned forward and talked to Andy like he was a taxi driver. “Er ... yeah ... mate ... we’ll go to number 64 on the big estate, yeah? Oh ... and do us a favour. Eyes in front ...” Rhys laughed raucously.
“How do traffic lights know to turn on red when I get near them?” Rhys asked after a while. Ianto had been told off for playing with the window, and was now snapping the ashtray in the door open and shut repeatedly.
“Oh ... I know that one.” said Ianto knowledgeably. “In every single light bulb lives a little man. They’ve called Lampies. The ones who live in Traffic lights are bastards because when they see good, honest, speed-limit abiding citizens driving towards them, they all pass the message down and jump into the red bulb and watch the good, honest, speed-limit abiding citizen EXPLODE!”
He shouted the final word, snapping the ashtray shut along with it, and everyone in the car jumped.
“By that theory,” pointed out Rhys. “Jack should get green lights alllllllllllll the way!”
Rolling his eyes, Andy turned into the Saint Helen’s Hospital car park and drove to the Accident and Emergency drop-off point. He locked the car firmly, giving a quick warning to the drunkards in the back seat, then escorted Annie inside. It was quiet, and she would be seen quickly, so he left her. “You can get off after this. I’ll take care of Laurel and Hardy then call it a night myself. I’ll log the incident for ya, if ya like.”
Annie smiled gratefully. “I was only telling the cat about my day.” she said pitifully.
‘No wonder it went for you.’ Andy thought to himself.
When he got back to the car, he found that Rhys and Ianto had fallen asleep on the back seat, their heads together and Rhys snoring softly. He smirked to himself.
When he got to the first stretch of road, he sped up a little. As he approached the T-junction at the end, he pressed the brakes abruptly and sniggered in satisfaction as Ianto swayed forward, landing with his head in Rhys’ lap and his face in his crotch. Andy took a picture on his phone just in case the image would come in useful.
~*~*~*~
Rhiannon Davies opened the door, squinting into the darkness of the council estate beyond.
“Apparently these belong to you.” said the policeman sarcastically. Rhiannon bit her lip and gave a curt nod, stepping aside and allowing the policeman to drag the two men loitering behind him into the council house. They were sniggering and holding on to each other for support. Drunk out of their minds, she realised.
The two men were, in fact, her darling brother Ianto and a man, older than he was, that she didn’t know. The PC seemed to know Ianto by first name, though. She guided them into the living room, switching on the light and shooing Candy the cat off the sofa so that they could sit.
“What did they do, officer?” she asked politely. “Cuppa tea?” she added. The officer looked grateful.
“Two sugars, please. They ... er ... well, not much really. I’m just under orders to keep an eye on that one -” he jerked his head in Ianto's direction. “- and make sure he’s kept safe. He said to bring them here in case ‘Jack did a nutjob’”
The man Rhiannon didn’t know sniggered. “That’s what you two’s callin’ it these days, is ettt?”
Ianto broke down laughing pissedly, and his friend joined him, holding on to each other for support until they were red in the face. The policeman rolled his eyes.
Rhiannon invited him into the kitchen while she made him his cup of tea. “On the beat alone?” she asked.
“No. Well ... ish. My partner’s in A&E at the moment. Attacked by a cat after she tried telling it about her day.”
Rhiannon gave a laugh. “So what’s your name then?” she asked.
“PC Andy Davidson.” he told her.
“You know Ianto, then?”
“Kind of. Professionally. Ish. I’ve had ... dealings with the people he works with.”
“The Tourist Office?” she frowned, putting copious amounts of instant coffee in two mugs and PG Tips tea bags in two others while talking over the sound of the boiling kettle.
“I ... er ... oh! I see! ... um ... I meant ... Jack. The people Jack Harkness works with. Y’know ... Jack?”
“Oh. Right.” she said, going over the fridge. “Do you prefer full milk or semi-skimmed? I think I might have a bit of sterilized, come to think of it ...”
“Full, if you wouldn’t mind, ma’am.”
“So ...” she said, unscrewing the lid of the milk and setting it on the side, still waiting for the kettle. “Under who’s orders do you have to protect my delicate little brother? Is it the entire police force that’s keeping an eye on him, or just you?”
“I ... ah ...” Andy took his hat off and put it under his arm. Rhiannon held her hand out for it, and set it carefully on the kitchen table. “The police keep their eye on everyone, ma’am.” he decided to say.
“Well, yes. Obviously. But you said you were told to keep an eye on him especially. I just wondered by who.”
“Er ... Torchwood.”
“Torchwood?”
“Jack Harkness.”
“Oh. That’s the name of his department?”
“Special Ops, yeah. Deal in spooky stuff and stuff.”
“I see.” The kettle popped, and Rhiannon began to pour the boiling water into the mugs. “So ... Torchwood ... what’s that then?”
“Like I said ... spooky stuff. And the occasional murder. I don’t know too much about it, really. All hush hush.” He accepted his cup of tea, with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” smiled Rhiannon. “So ... how do you know Ianto, then? Just professionally?”
“Er ... my ex-partner Gwen - that’s beat partner ... policewoman - works in Torchwood now. Kind of ... bumped into him a few times.”
“I see.” she said, making her way back towards the sofa. Ianto and Rhys were asleep in a large mass of bodies on the floor. She motioned for Andy to sit down beside her. “So ... Andy ... what do you know about Jack Harkness, then?”
“Captain Jack Harkness? Er ... well, he’s the head of Torchwood. And ... he’s a good bloke, y’know? Bit condescending to the little ol’ PC’s like myself - doesn’t like the police that much, if I’m honest - but he gets his job done.”
“What is his job?” Rhiannon asked, licking her lips as she burnt them a little on her tea. She had decided to leave Rhys and Ianto's strong coffee to go cold in the kitchen. She could pour it over them when Andy had gone, she thought evilly.
“Erm ...” Andy shifted uncomfortably. He settled on the answer: “Protecting people.”
Rhiannon raised an eyebrow and sipped her tea. She straightened her dressing gown a little. “Is it true he’s killed people?”
That question threw Andy for a loop, she could tell. He tried to make his escape then, but Rhiannon decided to play the distressed sister, and begged him to give her some clue as to whether or not her brother was safe.
Andy had got to the end of the garden, and gazed at her regretfully. “People die young in Torchwood.” He knew she’d have thought he was talking about Harkness, so he was telling a truth that would comfort her despite it probably, one day, breaking her heart. He was a little sickened that she seemed to smile at the idea of Jack Harkness dying young. He turned to get to his police car.
“Wait! One more thing!”
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, knowing he’d probably told her too much already.
“Where is Torchwood?”
Andy shrugged. “Ask about Torchwood ... most people point to the Bay.”
Vague, but still not a lie. He climbed into the driver’s seat and wound down the window, thanking her for the cup of tea and telling her to keep her eye on Ianto and Rhys - next time they’d have to spend the night in the cells. He neglected to mention that they’d originally wanted to do that this time rather than face their respective partners.
~*~*~*~
Jack leaned back in the bath, letting his aching muscles relax. Ianto had gone out drinking with Rhys a few hours ago, telling him he needed time unwind. Jack sighed - an evening in alone. He loved having Ianto around - no, he fucking loved having Ianto around - but sometimes he wanted five minutes to himself. He knew Ianto was the same; actually Ianto would probably want ten minutes to himself, Jack smiled.
He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, rubbing at a bruised love bite on his chest. He closed his eyes, thinking back to the passionate and lust-filled moment it had been made that morning, and found his cock reacting. “No you don’t.” he told it out loud. Of its own accord, his hand reached down to rub the head and roll the foreskin up and down. “Okayyyy.” Jack changed his mind, his cock half-hard. “Yes you do.”
Letting himself slip further into the water, he riffled through his rolodex of hot sex experiences for him to relive.
Ianto climbed the ladder into the jet, his fantastic arse working Jack up without even being touched. The black combats of the UNIT uniform clung to him nicely, showing off his physique in such a way it made Jack feel a little dizzy. ‘That would be the sudden redirection of blood flow’ apologized his brain as it, too, descended to his groin.
Jack followed him, licking his dry lips. Ianto led him to the two-seater cock-pit, and told him to sit in the pilot’s chair. Ianto took the co-pilot’s chair next to it, and spun it so that he and Jack were facing each other. He reached out and touched Jack’s face.
“I told you, explicitly, not to buy this plane, didn’t I, Jack?” Jack nodded guiltily, but leaned into Ianto's soft touch. He jumped and yelped when Ianto unexpectedly drew his hand back and slapped him. Hard. Jack was about to protest, when he found Ianto's weight straddling him and forcing his tongue into his mouth. The Captain snaked his arms around him, kissing Ianto back with the same passion he was being subjected to. Ianto took Jack’s hands in his, and guided them down to his uniform-clad erection.
“That’s how angry I am.” he hissed. “Can you feel how angry I am? Doesn’t it feel good? Isn’t it so ... hard?”
Jack moaned, trying to draw Ianto back into a kiss. Ianto leaned into it, bracing himself on the chair, letting their lips brush but playfully pulling back every time Jack tried to push his tongue forward. A click and scrape of metal and clunk as it was left to drop distracted Jack for a second. Ianto's body left him, and he clocked what had happened: Ianto had cuffed his hands to either side of the chair.
Ianto laughed at him, standing back with his hands on his hips. Jack made a show of struggling with the cuffs, and Ianto smirked. He gave his face a playful tap, telling him to stop it and then proceeded to undo Jack’s shirt buttons, pulling it out of his trousers. The movement shifted the fabric around Jack’s erection, and he let out a tiny moan. Ianto slapped him again.
“Shh.” he hissed. “You can’t make a sound unless I say you can. Understand?” Jack nodded. Ianto slapped him yet again. “Understand?”
“Yessir.” smirked Jack. Ianto fisted Jack’s undershirt, and pulled it so hard it ripped open. Jack made a noise of indignation, and Ianto punched his stomach. A little winded, he gasped his apologies.
“I ripped your shirt because you smirked at me.” Ianto said soothingly, smoothing back Jack’s hair and stroking his face. He made him sit back, moving the torn remains of Jack’s shirt aside and starting to loosen his belt buckle. Jack tipped his head back, and raised his hips involuntarily as his belt was pulled sharply free and Ianto pressed the heel of his hand onto the bulge in his trousers.
A monitoring device somewhere pulled Jack out of his memories. He looked down at his hard cock, and sighed heavily. Leaning forward, gripping his dick in one hand and pulling out the plug with the other, he carried on stroking himself and squeezing. Resting back again, he decided to wait for the water to drain before getting out.
They were both naked on Ianto's old bed - it was so low down it was basically a posh frame for a mattress on the floor - and Jack was lying on his back waiting for him. Jack knew he was nervous and unsure. He’d never fucked Jack before; only been fucked.
Wet, nervous fingers pushed into him, and he raised his spread legs a little higher. Ianto shifted and knelt between them, slowly scissoring out his fingers and twisting them as gently as Jack did. “I don’t mind it hurting.” Jack told him. “I quite like it, actually.” Ianto turned tomato red at that, unintentionally curling his fingers and making Jack squirm.
“Fuck me already!” Jack groaned. Ianto pulled out his fingers, and awkwardly covered his cock with the lubricant. Without a word, Jack turned over and lifted himself on his hands and knees.
“I thought you didn’t like it like that?” worried Ianto, hesitating.
“I don’t like fucking you like this. Just use me, will ya?” Jack growled. The mattress dipped, and hard, hot flesh pushed itself slowly through the guarded ring of muscle. Too slowly. Jack thrust himself backwards as hard as he could, fully impaling himself on Ianto's cock, and heard him yell out in surprise. “D’ya wanna be a top or what?” Jack grinned over his shoulder, challenging.
Ianto took a deep breath, and moved his hips backwards, withdrawing almost all the way. Jack sighed, bending his arms and resting his head by his elbows. Ianto began to inch back inside him and he groaned, half in pleasure and half in frustration. He made as if to pull himself forward again, Ianto going far too slow, when he was suddenly being fucked very, very hard. Jack yelled out and cursed, holding out his arms and bracing himself on the wall.
“OH god YES! This is how I like it ... god ... Ianto ... so big ...” he gasped. He heard Ianto chuckle, and felt the weight of him blanketing his back. Hot breath kissed his earlobe and a tongue flicked out and licked at the soft flesh of his neck, keeping in pace with Ianto's short, sharp, hard thrusts.
Jack’s lifted his head back, feeling teeth scrape at his nape and a tongue following the scratches. He moaned. Ianto was slowing a little, having set a ridiculous pace to try and continue for a lengthy period, but Jack didn’t mind. Ianto was rolling his hips, gripping his thighs and kneeling up straight again.
Frustration got to him again when Ianto pulled out. “I don’t like it like this.” he said, not sounding sheepish, but controlling. Jack was panting, groaning at how empty he felt.
“I do.” he growled. Strong hands pushed him gently, trying to make him roll over. He resolutely stayed on all fours. “Make me.” he challenged with a smirk. To his disappointment, however, Ianto got up off the bed and glared at him. “Whaaaaat?” he asked. “C’mon Ianto! You said you wanted to top!”
“This is my first go at it ... and you’re fucking it up!” Ianto reached down and took Jack by surprise by pulling up the covers as hard as he could. Jack toppled, and was soon flattened by the weight of Ianto on top of him, laughing at having got one over. Jack laughed and stroked his hair as lips began to kiss and caress his neck, moaning appreciatively as their dicks slid and rubbed together under Ianto's grinding hips.
“I like you taking control, Ianto.” said Jack softly. Ianto paused, raising his head, smiling.
“I’ll make sure I do it more often then, Jack.”
Jack held his gaze, feeling his lust and desire coarse through him - and there was something else, something he shouldn’t feel for his fuck buddy, but still it was there - and Ianto kept the eye contact as he knelt up again, nudging himself back into Jack’s body. He grasped Jack’s knees, holding them on his shoulders, leaning himself forwards slightly to lift up Jack’s hips.
Ianto began to withdraw, ready for fucking him again, and Jack closed his eyes in ecstasy and anticipation -
The monitor was beeping louder now, and Jack was cold sat in the empty bath. He’d totally forgotten he’d promised himself only until the water was gone. He was still squeezing his cock and stroking, and gazed at it sadly. He reached for his phone, and set the alarm to go off in two minutes.
“I ... I didn’t realise you felt the same.” said Ianto, keeping his eyes lowered. He was sat on the hotel bed.
“We never talk.” said Jack, sitting next to him and putting an arm around his shoulders. He curled a finger under Ianto's chin. “We’re guys. Communication isn’t our thing.” Leaning in, he raised his lips and let Ianto meet him half way. One of Ianto's arms found its way around Jack’s back and pulled him closer as their tongues simultaneously tried to gain access to the others’ mouth. Ianto began to slide his suit jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. Jack’s fingers began to explore his waistcoat, running over buttons and seams and slipping under to feel the warmed silk underneath.
Ianto broke the kiss, smiling happily. He pulled Jack’s head into the crook of his neck, cuddling him. “So ... why the hotel?”
Jack kissed and nuzzled his neck. “I wanted it to be different ... not that it’s not already going to be different ... but ... noticeably ‘do you remember the first time we made love?’ different.”
“We have had sex before, Jack.” Ianto reminded him.
“Yeah ... but we’ve never made love before.” Jack replied.
“Soppy bastard.” sighed Ianto, lying back as Jack pushed him.
Jack looked down, noticing rather strangely a fly had landed on his head. Was it wrong that it felt absolutely divine? His eyes fluttered closed, and he pictured Ianto's flushing face gasping below him, his eyes shining wide and his deep voice begging to be fucked deeper and deeper and ...
Jack came, feeling a little guilty that he’d killed the fly - and that he might have neglected a major situation on the monitors just so that he could finish wanking over the man he would most probably get to fuck senseless later. Later meaning ... in the morning.
Washing his hands in the sink, he wandered through the hub very naked and tapped a couple of keys on the computer that was blaring. He would have banged his head on a wall if he thought it would have helped, reading that the scanners had picked up two mentions of Ianto's name on the police radios. He scanned back for the transmissions, his body flooded with worry, feeling relieved to find he’d just had to be escorted home ... to Rhiannon’s house!
Jesus. He must have been out of his mind with drink to face seeing her before Jack. He was about to leave it ‘til morning, but his own possessiveness got the better of him. He wanted Ianto back home - either the hub or the flat - with him, now. Safe and sound, and away from sisters who were trying to break them apart. Besides, Ianto trusted Jack to keep him safe, so Jack had to make sure he was kept so.
In less than five minutes, Jack was dressed, presentable, and in the SUV on the way to Rhiannon’s house.
~*~*~*~
Another knock on the door. Brilliant. She’d literally just got back into bed.
Rhiannon, for the second time that very, very early morning, opened the door and squinted into the darkness of the council estate beyond. Captain Jack Harkness.
He was smiling at her, that fucking gorgeous smile she couldn’t help but like a little bit (on the grounds she was a female with an interest in the male sort) and asking if he could take Ianto home. She scowled in return, telling him no, Ianto was staying here. He’s too drunk to go anywhere.
“I’ll carry him then.” offered Jack.
“And what about his friend? Rhys, or whatever.”
“Oh no ... you can keep him. Good at washing up, I hear.” he pushed past her in true Harkness fashion, following Rhys’ snores to the living room. He flicked on the light, and the heap of male bodies on the floor made sleepy protests as the light penetrating their close eyelids, but they settled again.
Rhys was lying on his back in the middle of the room, and Ianto was curled up into him with his head on his non-homosexual boyfriend’s stomach. Rhys had his fingers laced through Ianto's hair, his hold on him sub-consciously protective. Jack took out his iPhone and snapped a picture, just in case the image might come in useful later.
He gave Rhiannon an ‘awwwww aren’t they cute?’ expression, then stooped low and lifted Ianto into the cradle of his arms. He hefted him up, adjusting his grip to make it easier, and made his way back to the SUV. Ianto was dead to the world, and didn’t notice when he was propped against the SUV and pressed there by Jack as he opened the back door. The Captain gently lifted him into the back seat in a sitting position, then gently let him keel over to the side until he was lying down and snuggled into the leather that was familiar to him.
Jack made his way to the driver’s door, when Rhiannon asked a question that threw him for a loop.
“What’s Torchwood?” she challenged.
He stared at her. “Who told you about Torchwood?”
She glanced at her drunk brother pointedly. Jack rolled his eyes and bit his lip, considering her.
“It’s ... need to know.” he told her. Ignoring her protests he got behind the wheel and made sure she heard the clunk of the central locking. She retreated back into the house, and he pulled the SUV away and made his way to Ianto's flat.
~*~*~*~
Jack curled up in the round bed alone. He’d never slept alone in Ianto's flat before, and it felt strange. He’d put Ianto in the guest bedroom originally, then changed his mind. Taking the bedding from the guest bed, he arranged it like a nest of cushions and duvets in front of the electric fire in the living room. He’d then gently placed Ianto on top, turning the fire on to a low heat to keep his uncovered naked body warm. Naked except for his dog tags.
He knew his back would kill in the morning - ‘thanks, Ianto.’ he thought - so he made himself as comfortable as possible, using the pillows where Ianto's head should be to support his back muscles. Glancing over at the clock, he could see it was getting very near to sun rise. The sky outside would probably be already tinged with grey. Sighing, Jack heard footsteps padding towards the bedroom, and looked over to see Ianto stood in the doorway, still naked.
“What?” Jack asked.
“I’m sorry.” He said, running his finger over his tags. Jack smirked, knowing that Ianto had realised what he had tried to tell him. Bad pets don’t get to sleep in the bed. “I really am sorry. And I think my hangover’s already coming on.”
He was lying. Jack could tell.
“You’re lying. I can tell.”
Ianto couldn’t help but smirk a little, his drunkenness still allowing his stoic face to slip. Jack pointedly rolled over, showing Ianto his back and snuggling down. “In the future, you get brought back to me, okay?” he said.
“Okay.” slurred Ianto. “I just thought ... thought you’d be angry.”
“I want you safe. Now go back to the bed I made for you, and think about that.”
Ianto laughed at him, and crawled onto the bed behind his body. Tongue and lips kissed his face and shoulder and neck, but Jack didn’t react. He resolutely ignored him.
“Jack?” Ianto said. “Jack? Jack? Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jaaaaaack. Jack. Jack. JACK JACK JACK JACK JACKJACKJACKJACKJACK.”
Eventually, and very sulkily, Ianto gave up. He tried to snuggle down on top of the covers, but Jack kicked him off. With an evil laugh, he pointed to the door, and eventually Ianto slumped back to the nest of cushions and the warm fire.
~*~*~*~
He awoke with the distinct feeling he was being watched. Lifting his head, two big blue eyes met his, and Jack smiled.
“Can I get in?” asked Ianto, sat at the foot of the bed, hugging his knees and waiting like a patient puppy. Jack lifted the covers on Ianto's side of the bed, and he crawled under them eagerly. Burying his face in Jack’s neck, he flicked out his tongue and lightly licked and kissed the soft flesh.
“You seem perky ... to say you should have a hangover.” smiled Jack. He noticed a little bit of pink appear in Ianto's cheek as he withdrew from his neck.
“I keep a stash of Owen’s hangover drips. But shhhhhhh!” he said, leaning in conspiratorially. “Don’t tell the boss!”
Jack sniggered. “I’m sure I can keep it from him.” he winked.
“Him? I meant Gwen.” laughed Ianto, and found himself on his back being mercilessly kissed and tickled at the same time. Calming down, Jack lifted Ianto's arm over his head and put it around him. He nuzzled into Ianto's chest, and ran a lazy finger over the tags on the chain. Property of Captain Jack Harkness gleamed to him from the surface.
Ianto's eyes were drifting shut again, and Jack watched him sleep for a few minutes before getting himself up. He left a note for Ianto, telling him to have a lazy day and he’d be back at lunchtime, and set off for the hub.
He was fairly sure he’d find a very hysterical woman there, fretting over the whereabouts of her husband, and readied his iPhone to prove to her that Rhys and Ianto had spent the night together and neither had strayed in faithfulness. He would tell her that the picture was from the floor at Ianto's flat. She’d never seen it, so wouldn’t know to argue otherwise.
Jack found himself smiling, noticing the little stickers stuck all over the stationary in the Tourist Centre. He gave himself a couple of minutes to look at them all, having been told by Ianto that he’d named his In Tray ‘Gwen’. It didn’t take long for Jack to identify Toshiko as the pen pot, but who the others were he couldn’t tell. He opened the drawer where he knew Ianto had put the remaining sticker sheets and looked over what was left. He picked out two big eyes and a sweet little mouth, and stuck them gently to his finger. Trudging up to his office, straightaway he stuck the little face onto his desk lamp.
“There we go.” he said, proudly stepping back and admiring handiwork. “You can by my Ianto 2.0 - lighting up my life ... and my desk so that I have no excuse not to work.”
FIN
I think I want more fluff. Fluff and angst. Fluff, angst and smut. MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE.
N/B.: I realise, upon reading back this chapter, I do sound like a bit of an anti-feline maniac enforcing a negative image of cats upon ye, my readers. This is not the case. I love cats. It's just Andy doesn't in my 'verse. So fuck off.
Next Part | Previous Part | Torchwood Index | Request a Convo/Prose Fic
Chapter: 63
Characters: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, PC Andy Davidson
Author: a_silver_story
Genre Humour. smut
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: M.M, cuss
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.
Summary: Jack is left home alone in the hub, Ianto and Rhys go out drinking and PC Andy winds up on the beat with a crazy lady who tells stray cats about her day. Smut makes it better, I promise.
FIRST PART | Ianto and Gwen's IM's
PREVIOUS | Torchwood Index/Masterlist
63 |
PC Andy Davidson was on desk duty. It was a Monday, so it was quiet, and there were no drunkards to sign in or fighters to subdue or joy riders to escort home. Still: better than being on the beat.
The phone on the desk started ringing.
Change of rota.
Andy was needed on the streets while another PC with a broken leg took over the desk.
Fucktabulous.
~*~*~*~
“... and that’s why everyone should own at least three cats.” finished Annie.
“Mmmm.” replied Andy, sitting behind the wheel and wishing he was bouncing off the bonnet and obtaining mild concussion instead. He could get out of the car containing this mildly insane woman, who was supposedly a PC, at any rate. He sighed heavily, thinking he now totally understood why this woman’s partner had probably broken his leg on purpose.
They were crawling through the dark streets of Cardiff, keeping a lookout for any kind of disturbance that would warrant their attention. Monday night was usually uneventful, and this one wasn’t really any different. So far, they’d only had a to tell a small group of rowdy students to shut up, they’re waking the babies. Andy was just about to turn the car around and start heading back to the station when his radio crackled.
Two white males, mid-twenties to mid-thirties, drunken and rowdy behaviour on the streets, seen heading towards Bute Park. Needed to be escorted home before they passed out, by the sounds of things.
Great.
Babysitting the local drunkards. This was what policing was all about.
Andy thought about the interview he’d been promised at Torchwood. Only one more month to go.
~*~*~*~
Andy couldn’t believe it when he got out of his police car and saw who the two drunkards were. On one side of the coin, all his Christmases had come at once. Blackmail for life. On the other, he was going to have to put up with a very drunk Ianto Jones and Rhys Williams for the next half hour at least.
“’Scuse me, gentlemen.” he started, authoritatively. They turned with difficulty, and Andy could see just how pissed they really were. They’d been having to walk leaning on each other, counterbalancing the fact that neither could actually physically balance at all. Having to move as one and work together as best they could, they were slowly dragging themselves down the street and laughing hysterically as they did so.
“Hellow Andy.” slurred Jones. “Could you tell us wherrrre to get to you know that place and the oooooo! Look at that cat!” he pointed drunkenly, and Andy turned to see Annie crouched by a bedraggled tabby cat and cooing at it in an annoying high-pitched voice.
“Look ... I’m gonna have to escort you home.” Andy told them. They looked at each other, mirroring each other’s slightly panicked expressions.
“You can’t take me back to Gwen in this state ...” drabbled Rhys.
“Jack’ll do a nutjob if I have to get essssssscorted home ...” tumbled Ianto.
“Where else can you go?” asked Andy. “I can’t take you somewhere you can’t be supervised in that state.”
“Cells?” offered Ianto. Rhys nodded vigorously, losing his balance and flailing to grab on to Ianto. They both tumbled to the ground sniggering.
“You can only go to the cells if you’ve been violent and disorderly. Besides ... you might get a criminal record.”
Ianto, sat on the floor with his legs wide and his knees slightly drawn up waved away Andy’s concerns. “I’ll wipe it tomorra. Cells it is then!”
Andy was just about to open his mouth to argue, when a squeal behind him cut his speech short. He spun round, and saw Annie holding her bloody face just as the nonchalant tail of the tabby disappeared into the shadows of a bush. It had taken a swipe at her.
“Right ... get in the back, you two.” he ordered. “Annie, we’ll get you to A&E, then deal with them.” She was crying profusely, but nodded anyway.
They got in the car to find that Rhys and Ianto had already settled themselves and begun exploring. Ianto was pressing the button that controlled the window repeatedly, marvelling about how windows in the back never went all the way down. “How does the window know it’s only half way down?” he asked Rhys.
"Only half the door's hugging it." said Rhys, serious.
"Awwwww. The door and the window are in love!" cooed Ianto.
The car started moving, and Ianto leaned forward and talked to Andy like he was a taxi driver. “Er ... yeah ... mate ... we’ll go to number 64 on the big estate, yeah? Oh ... and do us a favour. Eyes in front ...” Rhys laughed raucously.
“How do traffic lights know to turn on red when I get near them?” Rhys asked after a while. Ianto had been told off for playing with the window, and was now snapping the ashtray in the door open and shut repeatedly.
“Oh ... I know that one.” said Ianto knowledgeably. “In every single light bulb lives a little man. They’ve called Lampies. The ones who live in Traffic lights are bastards because when they see good, honest, speed-limit abiding citizens driving towards them, they all pass the message down and jump into the red bulb and watch the good, honest, speed-limit abiding citizen EXPLODE!”
He shouted the final word, snapping the ashtray shut along with it, and everyone in the car jumped.
“By that theory,” pointed out Rhys. “Jack should get green lights alllllllllllll the way!”
Rolling his eyes, Andy turned into the Saint Helen’s Hospital car park and drove to the Accident and Emergency drop-off point. He locked the car firmly, giving a quick warning to the drunkards in the back seat, then escorted Annie inside. It was quiet, and she would be seen quickly, so he left her. “You can get off after this. I’ll take care of Laurel and Hardy then call it a night myself. I’ll log the incident for ya, if ya like.”
Annie smiled gratefully. “I was only telling the cat about my day.” she said pitifully.
‘No wonder it went for you.’ Andy thought to himself.
When he got back to the car, he found that Rhys and Ianto had fallen asleep on the back seat, their heads together and Rhys snoring softly. He smirked to himself.
When he got to the first stretch of road, he sped up a little. As he approached the T-junction at the end, he pressed the brakes abruptly and sniggered in satisfaction as Ianto swayed forward, landing with his head in Rhys’ lap and his face in his crotch. Andy took a picture on his phone just in case the image would come in useful.
~*~*~*~
Rhiannon Davies opened the door, squinting into the darkness of the council estate beyond.
“Apparently these belong to you.” said the policeman sarcastically. Rhiannon bit her lip and gave a curt nod, stepping aside and allowing the policeman to drag the two men loitering behind him into the council house. They were sniggering and holding on to each other for support. Drunk out of their minds, she realised.
The two men were, in fact, her darling brother Ianto and a man, older than he was, that she didn’t know. The PC seemed to know Ianto by first name, though. She guided them into the living room, switching on the light and shooing Candy the cat off the sofa so that they could sit.
“What did they do, officer?” she asked politely. “Cuppa tea?” she added. The officer looked grateful.
“Two sugars, please. They ... er ... well, not much really. I’m just under orders to keep an eye on that one -” he jerked his head in Ianto's direction. “- and make sure he’s kept safe. He said to bring them here in case ‘Jack did a nutjob’”
The man Rhiannon didn’t know sniggered. “That’s what you two’s callin’ it these days, is ettt?”
Ianto broke down laughing pissedly, and his friend joined him, holding on to each other for support until they were red in the face. The policeman rolled his eyes.
Rhiannon invited him into the kitchen while she made him his cup of tea. “On the beat alone?” she asked.
“No. Well ... ish. My partner’s in A&E at the moment. Attacked by a cat after she tried telling it about her day.”
Rhiannon gave a laugh. “So what’s your name then?” she asked.
“PC Andy Davidson.” he told her.
“You know Ianto, then?”
“Kind of. Professionally. Ish. I’ve had ... dealings with the people he works with.”
“The Tourist Office?” she frowned, putting copious amounts of instant coffee in two mugs and PG Tips tea bags in two others while talking over the sound of the boiling kettle.
“I ... er ... oh! I see! ... um ... I meant ... Jack. The people Jack Harkness works with. Y’know ... Jack?”
“Oh. Right.” she said, going over the fridge. “Do you prefer full milk or semi-skimmed? I think I might have a bit of sterilized, come to think of it ...”
“Full, if you wouldn’t mind, ma’am.”
“So ...” she said, unscrewing the lid of the milk and setting it on the side, still waiting for the kettle. “Under who’s orders do you have to protect my delicate little brother? Is it the entire police force that’s keeping an eye on him, or just you?”
“I ... ah ...” Andy took his hat off and put it under his arm. Rhiannon held her hand out for it, and set it carefully on the kitchen table. “The police keep their eye on everyone, ma’am.” he decided to say.
“Well, yes. Obviously. But you said you were told to keep an eye on him especially. I just wondered by who.”
“Er ... Torchwood.”
“Torchwood?”
“Jack Harkness.”
“Oh. That’s the name of his department?”
“Special Ops, yeah. Deal in spooky stuff and stuff.”
“I see.” The kettle popped, and Rhiannon began to pour the boiling water into the mugs. “So ... Torchwood ... what’s that then?”
“Like I said ... spooky stuff. And the occasional murder. I don’t know too much about it, really. All hush hush.” He accepted his cup of tea, with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” smiled Rhiannon. “So ... how do you know Ianto, then? Just professionally?”
“Er ... my ex-partner Gwen - that’s beat partner ... policewoman - works in Torchwood now. Kind of ... bumped into him a few times.”
“I see.” she said, making her way back towards the sofa. Ianto and Rhys were asleep in a large mass of bodies on the floor. She motioned for Andy to sit down beside her. “So ... Andy ... what do you know about Jack Harkness, then?”
“Captain Jack Harkness? Er ... well, he’s the head of Torchwood. And ... he’s a good bloke, y’know? Bit condescending to the little ol’ PC’s like myself - doesn’t like the police that much, if I’m honest - but he gets his job done.”
“What is his job?” Rhiannon asked, licking her lips as she burnt them a little on her tea. She had decided to leave Rhys and Ianto's strong coffee to go cold in the kitchen. She could pour it over them when Andy had gone, she thought evilly.
“Erm ...” Andy shifted uncomfortably. He settled on the answer: “Protecting people.”
Rhiannon raised an eyebrow and sipped her tea. She straightened her dressing gown a little. “Is it true he’s killed people?”
That question threw Andy for a loop, she could tell. He tried to make his escape then, but Rhiannon decided to play the distressed sister, and begged him to give her some clue as to whether or not her brother was safe.
Andy had got to the end of the garden, and gazed at her regretfully. “People die young in Torchwood.” He knew she’d have thought he was talking about Harkness, so he was telling a truth that would comfort her despite it probably, one day, breaking her heart. He was a little sickened that she seemed to smile at the idea of Jack Harkness dying young. He turned to get to his police car.
“Wait! One more thing!”
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, knowing he’d probably told her too much already.
“Where is Torchwood?”
Andy shrugged. “Ask about Torchwood ... most people point to the Bay.”
Vague, but still not a lie. He climbed into the driver’s seat and wound down the window, thanking her for the cup of tea and telling her to keep her eye on Ianto and Rhys - next time they’d have to spend the night in the cells. He neglected to mention that they’d originally wanted to do that this time rather than face their respective partners.
~*~*~*~
Jack leaned back in the bath, letting his aching muscles relax. Ianto had gone out drinking with Rhys a few hours ago, telling him he needed time unwind. Jack sighed - an evening in alone. He loved having Ianto around - no, he fucking loved having Ianto around - but sometimes he wanted five minutes to himself. He knew Ianto was the same; actually Ianto would probably want ten minutes to himself, Jack smiled.
He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, rubbing at a bruised love bite on his chest. He closed his eyes, thinking back to the passionate and lust-filled moment it had been made that morning, and found his cock reacting. “No you don’t.” he told it out loud. Of its own accord, his hand reached down to rub the head and roll the foreskin up and down. “Okayyyy.” Jack changed his mind, his cock half-hard. “Yes you do.”
Letting himself slip further into the water, he riffled through his rolodex of hot sex experiences for him to relive.
Ianto climbed the ladder into the jet, his fantastic arse working Jack up without even being touched. The black combats of the UNIT uniform clung to him nicely, showing off his physique in such a way it made Jack feel a little dizzy. ‘That would be the sudden redirection of blood flow’ apologized his brain as it, too, descended to his groin.
Jack followed him, licking his dry lips. Ianto led him to the two-seater cock-pit, and told him to sit in the pilot’s chair. Ianto took the co-pilot’s chair next to it, and spun it so that he and Jack were facing each other. He reached out and touched Jack’s face.
“I told you, explicitly, not to buy this plane, didn’t I, Jack?” Jack nodded guiltily, but leaned into Ianto's soft touch. He jumped and yelped when Ianto unexpectedly drew his hand back and slapped him. Hard. Jack was about to protest, when he found Ianto's weight straddling him and forcing his tongue into his mouth. The Captain snaked his arms around him, kissing Ianto back with the same passion he was being subjected to. Ianto took Jack’s hands in his, and guided them down to his uniform-clad erection.
“That’s how angry I am.” he hissed. “Can you feel how angry I am? Doesn’t it feel good? Isn’t it so ... hard?”
Jack moaned, trying to draw Ianto back into a kiss. Ianto leaned into it, bracing himself on the chair, letting their lips brush but playfully pulling back every time Jack tried to push his tongue forward. A click and scrape of metal and clunk as it was left to drop distracted Jack for a second. Ianto's body left him, and he clocked what had happened: Ianto had cuffed his hands to either side of the chair.
Ianto laughed at him, standing back with his hands on his hips. Jack made a show of struggling with the cuffs, and Ianto smirked. He gave his face a playful tap, telling him to stop it and then proceeded to undo Jack’s shirt buttons, pulling it out of his trousers. The movement shifted the fabric around Jack’s erection, and he let out a tiny moan. Ianto slapped him again.
“Shh.” he hissed. “You can’t make a sound unless I say you can. Understand?” Jack nodded. Ianto slapped him yet again. “Understand?”
“Yessir.” smirked Jack. Ianto fisted Jack’s undershirt, and pulled it so hard it ripped open. Jack made a noise of indignation, and Ianto punched his stomach. A little winded, he gasped his apologies.
“I ripped your shirt because you smirked at me.” Ianto said soothingly, smoothing back Jack’s hair and stroking his face. He made him sit back, moving the torn remains of Jack’s shirt aside and starting to loosen his belt buckle. Jack tipped his head back, and raised his hips involuntarily as his belt was pulled sharply free and Ianto pressed the heel of his hand onto the bulge in his trousers.
A monitoring device somewhere pulled Jack out of his memories. He looked down at his hard cock, and sighed heavily. Leaning forward, gripping his dick in one hand and pulling out the plug with the other, he carried on stroking himself and squeezing. Resting back again, he decided to wait for the water to drain before getting out.
They were both naked on Ianto's old bed - it was so low down it was basically a posh frame for a mattress on the floor - and Jack was lying on his back waiting for him. Jack knew he was nervous and unsure. He’d never fucked Jack before; only been fucked.
Wet, nervous fingers pushed into him, and he raised his spread legs a little higher. Ianto shifted and knelt between them, slowly scissoring out his fingers and twisting them as gently as Jack did. “I don’t mind it hurting.” Jack told him. “I quite like it, actually.” Ianto turned tomato red at that, unintentionally curling his fingers and making Jack squirm.
“Fuck me already!” Jack groaned. Ianto pulled out his fingers, and awkwardly covered his cock with the lubricant. Without a word, Jack turned over and lifted himself on his hands and knees.
“I thought you didn’t like it like that?” worried Ianto, hesitating.
“I don’t like fucking you like this. Just use me, will ya?” Jack growled. The mattress dipped, and hard, hot flesh pushed itself slowly through the guarded ring of muscle. Too slowly. Jack thrust himself backwards as hard as he could, fully impaling himself on Ianto's cock, and heard him yell out in surprise. “D’ya wanna be a top or what?” Jack grinned over his shoulder, challenging.
Ianto took a deep breath, and moved his hips backwards, withdrawing almost all the way. Jack sighed, bending his arms and resting his head by his elbows. Ianto began to inch back inside him and he groaned, half in pleasure and half in frustration. He made as if to pull himself forward again, Ianto going far too slow, when he was suddenly being fucked very, very hard. Jack yelled out and cursed, holding out his arms and bracing himself on the wall.
“OH god YES! This is how I like it ... god ... Ianto ... so big ...” he gasped. He heard Ianto chuckle, and felt the weight of him blanketing his back. Hot breath kissed his earlobe and a tongue flicked out and licked at the soft flesh of his neck, keeping in pace with Ianto's short, sharp, hard thrusts.
Jack’s lifted his head back, feeling teeth scrape at his nape and a tongue following the scratches. He moaned. Ianto was slowing a little, having set a ridiculous pace to try and continue for a lengthy period, but Jack didn’t mind. Ianto was rolling his hips, gripping his thighs and kneeling up straight again.
Frustration got to him again when Ianto pulled out. “I don’t like it like this.” he said, not sounding sheepish, but controlling. Jack was panting, groaning at how empty he felt.
“I do.” he growled. Strong hands pushed him gently, trying to make him roll over. He resolutely stayed on all fours. “Make me.” he challenged with a smirk. To his disappointment, however, Ianto got up off the bed and glared at him. “Whaaaaat?” he asked. “C’mon Ianto! You said you wanted to top!”
“This is my first go at it ... and you’re fucking it up!” Ianto reached down and took Jack by surprise by pulling up the covers as hard as he could. Jack toppled, and was soon flattened by the weight of Ianto on top of him, laughing at having got one over. Jack laughed and stroked his hair as lips began to kiss and caress his neck, moaning appreciatively as their dicks slid and rubbed together under Ianto's grinding hips.
“I like you taking control, Ianto.” said Jack softly. Ianto paused, raising his head, smiling.
“I’ll make sure I do it more often then, Jack.”
Jack held his gaze, feeling his lust and desire coarse through him - and there was something else, something he shouldn’t feel for his fuck buddy, but still it was there - and Ianto kept the eye contact as he knelt up again, nudging himself back into Jack’s body. He grasped Jack’s knees, holding them on his shoulders, leaning himself forwards slightly to lift up Jack’s hips.
Ianto began to withdraw, ready for fucking him again, and Jack closed his eyes in ecstasy and anticipation -
The monitor was beeping louder now, and Jack was cold sat in the empty bath. He’d totally forgotten he’d promised himself only until the water was gone. He was still squeezing his cock and stroking, and gazed at it sadly. He reached for his phone, and set the alarm to go off in two minutes.
“I ... I didn’t realise you felt the same.” said Ianto, keeping his eyes lowered. He was sat on the hotel bed.
“We never talk.” said Jack, sitting next to him and putting an arm around his shoulders. He curled a finger under Ianto's chin. “We’re guys. Communication isn’t our thing.” Leaning in, he raised his lips and let Ianto meet him half way. One of Ianto's arms found its way around Jack’s back and pulled him closer as their tongues simultaneously tried to gain access to the others’ mouth. Ianto began to slide his suit jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. Jack’s fingers began to explore his waistcoat, running over buttons and seams and slipping under to feel the warmed silk underneath.
Ianto broke the kiss, smiling happily. He pulled Jack’s head into the crook of his neck, cuddling him. “So ... why the hotel?”
Jack kissed and nuzzled his neck. “I wanted it to be different ... not that it’s not already going to be different ... but ... noticeably ‘do you remember the first time we made love?’ different.”
“We have had sex before, Jack.” Ianto reminded him.
“Yeah ... but we’ve never made love before.” Jack replied.
“Soppy bastard.” sighed Ianto, lying back as Jack pushed him.
Jack looked down, noticing rather strangely a fly had landed on his head. Was it wrong that it felt absolutely divine? His eyes fluttered closed, and he pictured Ianto's flushing face gasping below him, his eyes shining wide and his deep voice begging to be fucked deeper and deeper and ...
Jack came, feeling a little guilty that he’d killed the fly - and that he might have neglected a major situation on the monitors just so that he could finish wanking over the man he would most probably get to fuck senseless later. Later meaning ... in the morning.
Washing his hands in the sink, he wandered through the hub very naked and tapped a couple of keys on the computer that was blaring. He would have banged his head on a wall if he thought it would have helped, reading that the scanners had picked up two mentions of Ianto's name on the police radios. He scanned back for the transmissions, his body flooded with worry, feeling relieved to find he’d just had to be escorted home ... to Rhiannon’s house!
Jesus. He must have been out of his mind with drink to face seeing her before Jack. He was about to leave it ‘til morning, but his own possessiveness got the better of him. He wanted Ianto back home - either the hub or the flat - with him, now. Safe and sound, and away from sisters who were trying to break them apart. Besides, Ianto trusted Jack to keep him safe, so Jack had to make sure he was kept so.
In less than five minutes, Jack was dressed, presentable, and in the SUV on the way to Rhiannon’s house.
~*~*~*~
Another knock on the door. Brilliant. She’d literally just got back into bed.
Rhiannon, for the second time that very, very early morning, opened the door and squinted into the darkness of the council estate beyond. Captain Jack Harkness.
He was smiling at her, that fucking gorgeous smile she couldn’t help but like a little bit (on the grounds she was a female with an interest in the male sort) and asking if he could take Ianto home. She scowled in return, telling him no, Ianto was staying here. He’s too drunk to go anywhere.
“I’ll carry him then.” offered Jack.
“And what about his friend? Rhys, or whatever.”
“Oh no ... you can keep him. Good at washing up, I hear.” he pushed past her in true Harkness fashion, following Rhys’ snores to the living room. He flicked on the light, and the heap of male bodies on the floor made sleepy protests as the light penetrating their close eyelids, but they settled again.
Rhys was lying on his back in the middle of the room, and Ianto was curled up into him with his head on his non-homosexual boyfriend’s stomach. Rhys had his fingers laced through Ianto's hair, his hold on him sub-consciously protective. Jack took out his iPhone and snapped a picture, just in case the image might come in useful later.
He gave Rhiannon an ‘awwwww aren’t they cute?’ expression, then stooped low and lifted Ianto into the cradle of his arms. He hefted him up, adjusting his grip to make it easier, and made his way back to the SUV. Ianto was dead to the world, and didn’t notice when he was propped against the SUV and pressed there by Jack as he opened the back door. The Captain gently lifted him into the back seat in a sitting position, then gently let him keel over to the side until he was lying down and snuggled into the leather that was familiar to him.
Jack made his way to the driver’s door, when Rhiannon asked a question that threw him for a loop.
“What’s Torchwood?” she challenged.
He stared at her. “Who told you about Torchwood?”
She glanced at her drunk brother pointedly. Jack rolled his eyes and bit his lip, considering her.
“It’s ... need to know.” he told her. Ignoring her protests he got behind the wheel and made sure she heard the clunk of the central locking. She retreated back into the house, and he pulled the SUV away and made his way to Ianto's flat.
~*~*~*~
Jack curled up in the round bed alone. He’d never slept alone in Ianto's flat before, and it felt strange. He’d put Ianto in the guest bedroom originally, then changed his mind. Taking the bedding from the guest bed, he arranged it like a nest of cushions and duvets in front of the electric fire in the living room. He’d then gently placed Ianto on top, turning the fire on to a low heat to keep his uncovered naked body warm. Naked except for his dog tags.
He knew his back would kill in the morning - ‘thanks, Ianto.’ he thought - so he made himself as comfortable as possible, using the pillows where Ianto's head should be to support his back muscles. Glancing over at the clock, he could see it was getting very near to sun rise. The sky outside would probably be already tinged with grey. Sighing, Jack heard footsteps padding towards the bedroom, and looked over to see Ianto stood in the doorway, still naked.
“What?” Jack asked.
“I’m sorry.” He said, running his finger over his tags. Jack smirked, knowing that Ianto had realised what he had tried to tell him. Bad pets don’t get to sleep in the bed. “I really am sorry. And I think my hangover’s already coming on.”
He was lying. Jack could tell.
“You’re lying. I can tell.”
Ianto couldn’t help but smirk a little, his drunkenness still allowing his stoic face to slip. Jack pointedly rolled over, showing Ianto his back and snuggling down. “In the future, you get brought back to me, okay?” he said.
“Okay.” slurred Ianto. “I just thought ... thought you’d be angry.”
“I want you safe. Now go back to the bed I made for you, and think about that.”
Ianto laughed at him, and crawled onto the bed behind his body. Tongue and lips kissed his face and shoulder and neck, but Jack didn’t react. He resolutely ignored him.
“Jack?” Ianto said. “Jack? Jack? Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jaaaaaack. Jack. Jack. JACK JACK JACK JACK JACKJACKJACKJACKJACK.”
Eventually, and very sulkily, Ianto gave up. He tried to snuggle down on top of the covers, but Jack kicked him off. With an evil laugh, he pointed to the door, and eventually Ianto slumped back to the nest of cushions and the warm fire.
~*~*~*~
He awoke with the distinct feeling he was being watched. Lifting his head, two big blue eyes met his, and Jack smiled.
“Can I get in?” asked Ianto, sat at the foot of the bed, hugging his knees and waiting like a patient puppy. Jack lifted the covers on Ianto's side of the bed, and he crawled under them eagerly. Burying his face in Jack’s neck, he flicked out his tongue and lightly licked and kissed the soft flesh.
“You seem perky ... to say you should have a hangover.” smiled Jack. He noticed a little bit of pink appear in Ianto's cheek as he withdrew from his neck.
“I keep a stash of Owen’s hangover drips. But shhhhhhh!” he said, leaning in conspiratorially. “Don’t tell the boss!”
Jack sniggered. “I’m sure I can keep it from him.” he winked.
“Him? I meant Gwen.” laughed Ianto, and found himself on his back being mercilessly kissed and tickled at the same time. Calming down, Jack lifted Ianto's arm over his head and put it around him. He nuzzled into Ianto's chest, and ran a lazy finger over the tags on the chain. Property of Captain Jack Harkness gleamed to him from the surface.
Ianto's eyes were drifting shut again, and Jack watched him sleep for a few minutes before getting himself up. He left a note for Ianto, telling him to have a lazy day and he’d be back at lunchtime, and set off for the hub.
He was fairly sure he’d find a very hysterical woman there, fretting over the whereabouts of her husband, and readied his iPhone to prove to her that Rhys and Ianto had spent the night together and neither had strayed in faithfulness. He would tell her that the picture was from the floor at Ianto's flat. She’d never seen it, so wouldn’t know to argue otherwise.
Jack found himself smiling, noticing the little stickers stuck all over the stationary in the Tourist Centre. He gave himself a couple of minutes to look at them all, having been told by Ianto that he’d named his In Tray ‘Gwen’. It didn’t take long for Jack to identify Toshiko as the pen pot, but who the others were he couldn’t tell. He opened the drawer where he knew Ianto had put the remaining sticker sheets and looked over what was left. He picked out two big eyes and a sweet little mouth, and stuck them gently to his finger. Trudging up to his office, straightaway he stuck the little face onto his desk lamp.
“There we go.” he said, proudly stepping back and admiring handiwork. “You can by my Ianto 2.0 - lighting up my life ... and my desk so that I have no excuse not to work.”
FIN
I think I want more fluff. Fluff and angst. Fluff, angst and smut. MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE.
N/B.: I realise, upon reading back this chapter, I do sound like a bit of an anti-feline maniac enforcing a negative image of cats upon ye, my readers. This is not the case. I love cats. It's just Andy doesn't in my 'verse. So fuck off.
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