Your Coffee - Janto Fic
Title: Your Coffee
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: Teen
Spoilers: Post-Cyberwoman.
Summary: Ianto serves coffee as though it was a usual day.
Disclaimers: I own nothing.
Notes: Unedited because I'm lazy. Comments are loved~
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“Your coffee, sir.” A stiff announcement breaks the odd, expecting silence. Jack’s eyebrows shoot up with forced syurprise, his tan hands shutting the folder he had been looking over. A few crumples appear in Jack’s prim and proper business shirt as he straightens up. With unnerving ease, a grin spreads over Jack’s face at the sight of his morning coffee. As though it was a normal day.
Jack taps his fingers against the desk with a chipper look on his face. Ianto decides in that moment that something must have gone Jack’s way today, whether it was a Weevil capture or another ‘capture and conquest’ of sorts.
The steam arising from the mug in Ianto’s pale hands lights a hunger in Jack’s eyes, illuminating the dark circles curving under his eyelashes.
“You don’t look well, sir.” Ianto notes.
“Coffee cures everything,” Jack replies with a sigh. He adds, “except caffeine addiction,” as a flirty afterthought ('and premature ejaculation', comes to Ianto’s mind in a flash).
As though Jack hadn’t refused any drinks from Ianto since the incident.
At first, Ianto had presumed Jack was keeping Ianto in his place; letting him know that not everything could go back to normal and as such, his coffee wouldn't be accepted so easily. It was only once Ianto had noticed Toshiko swabbing the bottom of her coffee mug with a Q-tip that he had realised. Toshiko had been checking for Retcon. Ianto knew not to toy with the pill, even if he wanted more than anything to wipe the team’s mind of his betrayal. He would’ve slipped himself some of the amnesiac, had he not known that he had kept Lisa for far longer than the Retcon’s limit. The fact that he wasn’t a pill-popping twat helped him to not take it also. It could only make you forget so much. His Welsh heart gave out a slight sigh at the thought of his workmates not trusting him.
As though Ianto never had a girlfriend hidden in the basement.
“Nice suit.” Trust Jack to break in into the midst of deep thoughts with his godforsaken flirting. He never seemed to let up. “Can’t go wrong with a suit, sir,” is the returning quip.
With that the cup is wrenched out of Ianto’s hands. It was more likely that Jack had simply pried it gently from the teaboy’s fingers; everything felt rough and harsh to Ianto now. Ianto turns, prepared to clear up the mess Gwen had left on her desk when she stumbled into work hungover.
As though Jack never held a gun to Ianto’s head, pressing him up against a doorframe with no restraint whatsoever.
“Ianto?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Thank you.” A brief look of tenderness flits over Jack’s features before he presses his mouth to the mug’s rim and the quixotic gaze returns. The folder on Jack’s desk will likely be cast aside among Jack’s other neglected ‘to-dos’ (including death certificates and several elusive British actors). For some reason, Ianto’s typical touchiness doesn’t rear its head at this knowledge. Ianto figures it’s the expecting look on Jack’s face. Eyebrows raised and cheeks twitching in amusement, the elder of the two waits for the other to continue flirting playfully as they usually do.
But despite all the cheery banter and exchanged looks, this is not a normal, usual day, Jack Harkness, and sins are not forgotten easily by either parties. So, Ianto turns like he had resolved to a few moments ago. He wipes the smeared lipstick off Gwen’s monitor and, with a dismayed look on his face, dumps the cloth in the growing pile of trash. He brews more coffee when Owen complains.
He ignores the bright pair of eyes transfixed on his backside..