fic: Eight Hours 2/? [PG] Torchwood/Highlander
Author: Aeron Lanart
Title: Eight hours
Fandom: Torchwood/Highlander
Characters: Jack/Ianto/Methos
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: None/TW S1 and KKBB
Disclaimer: Torchwood belongs to Aunty Beeb. Methos belongs to Panzer/Davis productions
Summary: Temporal Displacement? Makes your tongue tingle...
A/N: Well you know that little comment fic I started here? It's grown, and there's likely to be more after this part too though I'm not expecting that to be PG. I suppose I should warn you that this bit is flirting with being fluffy. Just a little.
Part One
~*~
Ianto couldn’t believe how nervous he was as he juggled takeaway and keys in order to open his front door, it was as if he’d regressed to being a teenager again, as if the last years had never happened, as if what had marked him, shaped him had never existed; Immortals, Watchers, Torchwood, Lisa, Jack, Methos, Jack’s Doctor... at last he managed to get the door open and threw an unsteady glance over his shoulder at the source of much of his discomfort. Jack met his eyes with a smile that only succeeded in making things worse so Ianto resolutely turned his back on him and barged into his flat. He regained a modicum of composure by concentrating on the mundane tasks of sorting out food and coffee so when he at last turned to Jack he at least bore some semblance to his normal self.
“Go and pick a dvd; it’s not exactly dinner and a movie but...” Ianto shrugged, he’d never expected that from Jack; had never allowed himself to expect that from Jack. There was no reply, but Jack disappeared from the kitchen with a grin and a wink. Ianto turned his attention back to the familiar comfort of making coffee, not realising that Jack’s smile was echoed on his own face.
*
The dvd was just a memory, and Jack was half-heartedly channel surfing. Most of his attention was taken by trying to relearn the contours of the face that was currently nestled against his thigh, sleeping. Asleep, Ianto looked much the same as Jack had tried to remember him on the Valiant in the brief moments of respite and silence that were allowed him; awake, there was something else there, something more. Ianto had grown while Jack was away and part of him ached to have missed that. Jack ran his fingers through Ianto’s hair, enjoying the way the younger man nuzzled into the caress without waking; the sheer normalcy of it was almost overwhelming. He left his hand gently cupping Ianto’s face and rubbed idle circles in a spot behind Ianto’s ear with his thumb. Jack leaned back into the support of the couch and let his eyes drift shut. He hadn’t been quite sure what to expect from Ianto on his return, but this quiet contentment wasn’t something he’d factored into his scenarios and he was pleasantly surprised; he relaxed into the moment and let it take him where it would.
A warm, rich voice broke into his reverie, another flicker of light from his dark year.
“I wasn’t sure if I’d have to kiss you or kill you when I arrived, but I certainly didn’t expect to want to forgive you.” Jack opened his eyes without moving, to be confronted by the vision of Methos leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. Even upside down as it was, it was an incredibly reassuring sight but disturbing at the same time.
“And do you?” he whispered. He watched as Methos detached himself from the door frame and drew closer, crouched by the side of the couch and let a long fingered hand rest against Jack’s where it lay on Ianto’s face. Jack met his solemn gaze, and almost felt like he was drowning.
“You don’t need my forgiveness; I’m not the one you abandoned with no explanation, after all.” Methos sank to the floor and sat back on his heels. His eyes ran over them both for a second before a gentle smile crept over his face. “Though I would hazard a guess that you’ve pretty much been forgiven already. You’re lucky, I hope you realise that.” The smile faded, and Jack swallowed as the hazel gaze hardened though he didn’t flinch away from it. “I’m not so quick to forgive, and I never forget.”
“I deserve that,” Jack agreed, keeping his voice soft in an effort not to disturb Ianto.
“Yes you do; but I also understand. Don’t forget, I’ve met the Doctor.” Jack let out a breath that he hadn’t been aware that he was holding and gave Methos a shaky smile. Ianto began to stir on his lap, muttering incoherently; a moment later he blinked, blue eyes still hazy with sleep though they couldn’t miss Methos kneeling on the floor in front of him.
“You’re early,” he mumbled. Methos met Jack’s eyes, and they both spluttered into laughter, defusing the last of the tension. “Well you are,” complained Ianto as he struggled upright. “You weren’t supposed to arrive for another half an hour. I would have been awake then.”
“I put my foot down.”
“I bet you did.” Ianto ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even further. He looked up at Jack with a slightly guilty expression. “I was going to let you know before he arrived.”
“That’s ok; I like surprises when they’re good ones.” Jack dropped a kiss into Ianto’s hair before reaching out run a finger across Methos’ cheek. “And seeing you is definitely a good one.” He couldn’t help but smile as Methos turned his head into the caress and gently kissed his finger, then scrambled up off his knees to swoop in to give Ianto a quick kiss too.
“Thank you,” he whispered against Ianto’s skin, barely loud enough for Jack to hear him and disappeared back out of the room with an air that spoke of familiarity. As he watched Methos’ retreating back, a thought coalesced in Jack’s head, explaining something that had puzzled him somewhat.
“Methos has a key?” He asked Ianto.
“Yup. You have a problem with that?” There was an unspoken challenge in Ianto’s eyes, and Jack wasn’t sure he was ready to meet it.
“No! No, of course not. It’s just...” Jack trailed off, there was no way to say what he’d been going to without sounding jealous, whiny or controlling; he hoped he was none of those things, not with regards to Methos and Ianto at least. Ianto eased himself up off the couch and moved around it; Jack felt the back dip as Ianto leant over to kiss him gently on his forehead.
“Stick around for a bit, Jack Harkness, and you might just get one too.” Jack could hear the smile in his voice. “Officially,” Ianto added as he moved away, following Methos out of the room.
“Hey, I’ve only broken in once!” Jack called out after him.
“That was one time too many!” Ianto shouted in reply. Jack closed his mouth on any further retort; Ianto really hadn’t been happy about that, and it was probably prudent not to remind him too much about it. He picked up the remote and began to channel surf again; trying to squash his curiosity about what the other two were getting up to, especially when he heard what sounded suspiciously like a giggle coming from the direction of the kitchen. For the first time since he’d got back Jack paused to consider what, and who, had helped to fill the Jack-less space in Ianto’s life during the months he’d been gone; the prospect was disconcerting in more ways than one.
Methos padded back into the room, feet bare and clad in just jeans and t-shirt, carrying a bowl and an open bottle. The aroma of freshly brewing coffee followed him from the kitchen though Jack could also smell the tang of beer from the bottle in his hand. He smiled; some things obviously didn’t change. Methos settled onto the couch next to Jack without uttering a word and grabbed the remote out of his hand, flicking through the channels until he settled on the Simpsons. Jack watched out of the corner of his eye as Methos slithered down into what could only be described as a sprawl on the couch, feet on the coffee table, bowl balanced precariously on his stomach. The remote had been abandoned once more which enabled him to pick at the contents of the bowl with his free hand between sips of beer. Jack could feel the heat pooling where their legs were pressed against each other, but Methos didn’t even deign to acknowledge Jack’s presence never mind comment on their proximity. Jack began to feel faintly disturbed, even though he suspected that that was the intention. The clink of china alerted him to Ianto’s presence, and he reached out to take the proffered cup of coffee, inhaling appreciatively as Ianto settled onto the other side of him, squirming slightly until he seemed to find a comfortable position. Ianto, like Methos, said nothing and Jack became convinced there was a conspiracy. He was even more convinced when they started idly passing remarks about what was on screen over him, but he desperately tried not to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much it was getting to him. Jack managed to cast a glance at each of them, without being too obvious he hoped; they were both apparently engrossed in what was on the TV and he almost ground his teeth in frustration. Methos casually offered the bowl of nuts, cashews Jack noted, to Ianto who grabbed a handful without even glancing away from the screen. Ianto then proceeded to eat the nuts one at a time, casually licking the coating off his fingers between each nut. Jack found himself staring intently at Ianto’s mouth and tongue and couldn’t help the small sound that echoed quietly in the back of his throat; part moan, part growl, all frustration. Methos broke his silence with a choked sounding snort.
“I told you the nuts would be too much for him.” Jack felt Methos shift beside him, heard the chink of the bowl being set down on the coffee table as Ianto looked like he was trying to stifle an attack of the giggles. The next thing he knew he was being pulled against Methos’ t-shirt clad body, the press of his lips a once-familiar and sorely missed tingle against the skin of Jack’s neck. “It’s good to have you back,” he whispered. “We missed you.” Jack relaxed into the embrace, smiling happily at Ianto who appeared to have regained control of himself.
“I missed you both, too. Sometimes I wondered if I’d ever see either of you again, never mind both of you.” Jack heard his voice catch slightly and fought to stop his emotions from overwhelming him. Ianto leaned over to capture his lips in an almost chaste kiss.
“Well, we’re both here now,” he said. “And much as I like the Simpsons I’m sure we can find far better things to do with our time. We’ve still got more than five hours to kill after all and I’m sure the Old Man has got a few ideas on how to spend it.”
“Oh, just a few,” Methos mumbled into Jack’s neck. Jack chuckled.
“Care to demonstrate?” Jack wasn’t sure quite who he was asking, another thing he hadn’t expected was for Methos and Ianto to be so obviously comfortable with each other. The thought of how they might have reached that comfort zone made his toes tingle.
“Ianto?” That was Methos, his voice like honey and full of promises. Ianto scrambled off the couch and held his hand out; Jack didn’t hesitate in taking it, this was what he’d come back for after all.
Title: Eight hours
Fandom: Torchwood/Highlander
Characters: Jack/Ianto/Methos
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: None/TW S1 and KKBB
Disclaimer: Torchwood belongs to Aunty Beeb. Methos belongs to Panzer/Davis productions
Summary: Temporal Displacement? Makes your tongue tingle...
A/N: Well you know that little comment fic I started here? It's grown, and there's likely to be more after this part too though I'm not expecting that to be PG. I suppose I should warn you that this bit is flirting with being fluffy. Just a little.
Part One
~*~
Ianto couldn’t believe how nervous he was as he juggled takeaway and keys in order to open his front door, it was as if he’d regressed to being a teenager again, as if the last years had never happened, as if what had marked him, shaped him had never existed; Immortals, Watchers, Torchwood, Lisa, Jack, Methos, Jack’s Doctor... at last he managed to get the door open and threw an unsteady glance over his shoulder at the source of much of his discomfort. Jack met his eyes with a smile that only succeeded in making things worse so Ianto resolutely turned his back on him and barged into his flat. He regained a modicum of composure by concentrating on the mundane tasks of sorting out food and coffee so when he at last turned to Jack he at least bore some semblance to his normal self.
“Go and pick a dvd; it’s not exactly dinner and a movie but...” Ianto shrugged, he’d never expected that from Jack; had never allowed himself to expect that from Jack. There was no reply, but Jack disappeared from the kitchen with a grin and a wink. Ianto turned his attention back to the familiar comfort of making coffee, not realising that Jack’s smile was echoed on his own face.
*
The dvd was just a memory, and Jack was half-heartedly channel surfing. Most of his attention was taken by trying to relearn the contours of the face that was currently nestled against his thigh, sleeping. Asleep, Ianto looked much the same as Jack had tried to remember him on the Valiant in the brief moments of respite and silence that were allowed him; awake, there was something else there, something more. Ianto had grown while Jack was away and part of him ached to have missed that. Jack ran his fingers through Ianto’s hair, enjoying the way the younger man nuzzled into the caress without waking; the sheer normalcy of it was almost overwhelming. He left his hand gently cupping Ianto’s face and rubbed idle circles in a spot behind Ianto’s ear with his thumb. Jack leaned back into the support of the couch and let his eyes drift shut. He hadn’t been quite sure what to expect from Ianto on his return, but this quiet contentment wasn’t something he’d factored into his scenarios and he was pleasantly surprised; he relaxed into the moment and let it take him where it would.
A warm, rich voice broke into his reverie, another flicker of light from his dark year.
“I wasn’t sure if I’d have to kiss you or kill you when I arrived, but I certainly didn’t expect to want to forgive you.” Jack opened his eyes without moving, to be confronted by the vision of Methos leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. Even upside down as it was, it was an incredibly reassuring sight but disturbing at the same time.
“And do you?” he whispered. He watched as Methos detached himself from the door frame and drew closer, crouched by the side of the couch and let a long fingered hand rest against Jack’s where it lay on Ianto’s face. Jack met his solemn gaze, and almost felt like he was drowning.
“You don’t need my forgiveness; I’m not the one you abandoned with no explanation, after all.” Methos sank to the floor and sat back on his heels. His eyes ran over them both for a second before a gentle smile crept over his face. “Though I would hazard a guess that you’ve pretty much been forgiven already. You’re lucky, I hope you realise that.” The smile faded, and Jack swallowed as the hazel gaze hardened though he didn’t flinch away from it. “I’m not so quick to forgive, and I never forget.”
“I deserve that,” Jack agreed, keeping his voice soft in an effort not to disturb Ianto.
“Yes you do; but I also understand. Don’t forget, I’ve met the Doctor.” Jack let out a breath that he hadn’t been aware that he was holding and gave Methos a shaky smile. Ianto began to stir on his lap, muttering incoherently; a moment later he blinked, blue eyes still hazy with sleep though they couldn’t miss Methos kneeling on the floor in front of him.
“You’re early,” he mumbled. Methos met Jack’s eyes, and they both spluttered into laughter, defusing the last of the tension. “Well you are,” complained Ianto as he struggled upright. “You weren’t supposed to arrive for another half an hour. I would have been awake then.”
“I put my foot down.”
“I bet you did.” Ianto ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even further. He looked up at Jack with a slightly guilty expression. “I was going to let you know before he arrived.”
“That’s ok; I like surprises when they’re good ones.” Jack dropped a kiss into Ianto’s hair before reaching out run a finger across Methos’ cheek. “And seeing you is definitely a good one.” He couldn’t help but smile as Methos turned his head into the caress and gently kissed his finger, then scrambled up off his knees to swoop in to give Ianto a quick kiss too.
“Thank you,” he whispered against Ianto’s skin, barely loud enough for Jack to hear him and disappeared back out of the room with an air that spoke of familiarity. As he watched Methos’ retreating back, a thought coalesced in Jack’s head, explaining something that had puzzled him somewhat.
“Methos has a key?” He asked Ianto.
“Yup. You have a problem with that?” There was an unspoken challenge in Ianto’s eyes, and Jack wasn’t sure he was ready to meet it.
“No! No, of course not. It’s just...” Jack trailed off, there was no way to say what he’d been going to without sounding jealous, whiny or controlling; he hoped he was none of those things, not with regards to Methos and Ianto at least. Ianto eased himself up off the couch and moved around it; Jack felt the back dip as Ianto leant over to kiss him gently on his forehead.
“Stick around for a bit, Jack Harkness, and you might just get one too.” Jack could hear the smile in his voice. “Officially,” Ianto added as he moved away, following Methos out of the room.
“Hey, I’ve only broken in once!” Jack called out after him.
“That was one time too many!” Ianto shouted in reply. Jack closed his mouth on any further retort; Ianto really hadn’t been happy about that, and it was probably prudent not to remind him too much about it. He picked up the remote and began to channel surf again; trying to squash his curiosity about what the other two were getting up to, especially when he heard what sounded suspiciously like a giggle coming from the direction of the kitchen. For the first time since he’d got back Jack paused to consider what, and who, had helped to fill the Jack-less space in Ianto’s life during the months he’d been gone; the prospect was disconcerting in more ways than one.
Methos padded back into the room, feet bare and clad in just jeans and t-shirt, carrying a bowl and an open bottle. The aroma of freshly brewing coffee followed him from the kitchen though Jack could also smell the tang of beer from the bottle in his hand. He smiled; some things obviously didn’t change. Methos settled onto the couch next to Jack without uttering a word and grabbed the remote out of his hand, flicking through the channels until he settled on the Simpsons. Jack watched out of the corner of his eye as Methos slithered down into what could only be described as a sprawl on the couch, feet on the coffee table, bowl balanced precariously on his stomach. The remote had been abandoned once more which enabled him to pick at the contents of the bowl with his free hand between sips of beer. Jack could feel the heat pooling where their legs were pressed against each other, but Methos didn’t even deign to acknowledge Jack’s presence never mind comment on their proximity. Jack began to feel faintly disturbed, even though he suspected that that was the intention. The clink of china alerted him to Ianto’s presence, and he reached out to take the proffered cup of coffee, inhaling appreciatively as Ianto settled onto the other side of him, squirming slightly until he seemed to find a comfortable position. Ianto, like Methos, said nothing and Jack became convinced there was a conspiracy. He was even more convinced when they started idly passing remarks about what was on screen over him, but he desperately tried not to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much it was getting to him. Jack managed to cast a glance at each of them, without being too obvious he hoped; they were both apparently engrossed in what was on the TV and he almost ground his teeth in frustration. Methos casually offered the bowl of nuts, cashews Jack noted, to Ianto who grabbed a handful without even glancing away from the screen. Ianto then proceeded to eat the nuts one at a time, casually licking the coating off his fingers between each nut. Jack found himself staring intently at Ianto’s mouth and tongue and couldn’t help the small sound that echoed quietly in the back of his throat; part moan, part growl, all frustration. Methos broke his silence with a choked sounding snort.
“I told you the nuts would be too much for him.” Jack felt Methos shift beside him, heard the chink of the bowl being set down on the coffee table as Ianto looked like he was trying to stifle an attack of the giggles. The next thing he knew he was being pulled against Methos’ t-shirt clad body, the press of his lips a once-familiar and sorely missed tingle against the skin of Jack’s neck. “It’s good to have you back,” he whispered. “We missed you.” Jack relaxed into the embrace, smiling happily at Ianto who appeared to have regained control of himself.
“I missed you both, too. Sometimes I wondered if I’d ever see either of you again, never mind both of you.” Jack heard his voice catch slightly and fought to stop his emotions from overwhelming him. Ianto leaned over to capture his lips in an almost chaste kiss.
“Well, we’re both here now,” he said. “And much as I like the Simpsons I’m sure we can find far better things to do with our time. We’ve still got more than five hours to kill after all and I’m sure the Old Man has got a few ideas on how to spend it.”
“Oh, just a few,” Methos mumbled into Jack’s neck. Jack chuckled.
“Care to demonstrate?” Jack wasn’t sure quite who he was asking, another thing he hadn’t expected was for Methos and Ianto to be so obviously comfortable with each other. The thought of how they might have reached that comfort zone made his toes tingle.
“Ianto?” That was Methos, his voice like honey and full of promises. Ianto scrambled off the couch and held his hand out; Jack didn’t hesitate in taking it, this was what he’d come back for after all.