Fic: Whitechapel/Torchwood, ~850 words
In the same verse as these others here. And there's some more Whitechapel here.
Fandom: Whitechapel, Torchwood
Characters: Joe Chandler/Ianto Jones
Rating: PG
Word Count: Around 850
Setting: London (Whitechapel, specifically.)
Author's Notes/Summary: Ianto Jones, formerly of Torchwood 3, works for the Whitechapel Police as Ed Buchan's assistant in the station's archive. Ianto and DI Joe Chandler have known each other for awhile, and things are starting to...turn into more than just a friendship or working relationship. Check out tags at the top if you're interested in other related fic. (If anyone is interested in more of this pairing, follow @SometimesARebel and @TeaBoyIanto on twitter.)
Shirts and Suits
His fingertips trailed over the crisp fabric of Ianto's shirt, the heat of his skin radiating underneath. Joe glanced up from where his fingers met the white cloth to the brilliant blue of Ianto's eyes.
"All right, sir?"
"Your eyes are very...blue." He neatly avoided the question - mostly unconsciously because Ianto's eyes are a surprisingly bright blue. He'd found himself caught in them more than he'd care to admit.
"Yours are fairly blue yourself."
"Hm." The notice surprised him and he lowered his gaze, eyes fluttering closed - it wasn't even a compliment, but somehow even just having all of Ianto's laser focus and attention made him feel as awkward as a teenager. Well, other normal teenagers. He didn't have time for lovelorn feelings back then. Not that he was lovelorn now. Not at all. Aside from being positively confusing, it was dizzying and refreshing to have these sorts of thoughts and feelings. He felt like...Ianto was someone he could have those feelings with. Someone he felt he had options with. Someone who accepted how he was. Or at least that was what he knew of the man so far.
"They are. Very blue, sir. I like them." Ianto insisted lightly, as his fingers brushed the cuff of Joe's shirt sleeve, always treating him with the most careful of kid gloves. His fingers drifted a little further for a brief half-second, touching Joe's skin, and it sent a shiver right through him. It was somehow so thrilling. The contact felt like a spark over his skin. He didn't feel alarmed as he might've a month ago, nor disgusted. He felt connected.
Joe moved his hands again, soaking up the texture of Ianto's shirt, sliding down the smooth stripe of his tie... Touching without actually touching. That was safe. It would probably be three, four, possibly six or eight times of testing this out before he might feel safe enough to enquire about more. He's sure that Ianto was ready for more at any time - or he'd gotten no objections from the man - but Ianto's been nothing but polite, gentlemanly, patient. He hadn't attempted to move closer, hadn't moved to unbutton any buttons; he'd allowed Joe all the control.
Softly, Joe drifted his fingers along the cloth of Ianto's shoulders, exploring, absorbing, just testing the waters as it were. He- well, he feels he needs to test his own reactions. The cloth is so crisp and white compared to the dark sheen of Ianto's belt below, compared to the texture of Ianto's tie... He doesn't really trust himself with the whole vault that is Ianto Jones, not without ample preparation and-- information.
It was frustrating, that much he's well aware of. For them both, likely, but for himself specifically. Emotionally, he wanted to see more, try more but-- It was just so daunting. Mentally, physically, he felt uncertain, unclear-- worried was really the only word for it. Some moments he wanted Ianto to take the choice away from him, loosen his own tie, unbutton his own shirt- just give him that nudge to help Joe move forward. But that wasn't Ianto - and more importantly, he couldn't push Ianto into making his decisions for him. He had to get there on his own and he bloody well knew that. It just seemed easier. Sometimes he ached for things to be bloody easy!
Clearly, some of his emotions were leaking onto his face, because Ianto's hand was cupping his cheek and he was tilting Joe's face up. "You're thinking again, sir. Stop that. Besides, there's plenty more fabric on me that you haven't gotten to." Ianto's smile was impish, and exactly the smile that made Joe's hands tingle and a smile stretch across his face, albeit a bit sheepishly at the moment.
"Like here?" Joe drew his thumb across the strip of belt at Ianto's waist, skin dragging on the leather. He felt more confident with Ianto's small encouragement.
"Mhm, yes, I'd say that's some, sir." Ianto's breathing had increased incrementally, Joe could tell from the rise and fall of his chest under that smooth shirt.
"And here?" Joe's fingertips slid over the sides of Ianto's narrow hips, and he closed his eyes, taking in the feel of the fabric, the feel of Ianto, and he found himself leaning in closer. It wasn't wool precisely, but it caught his fingertips, he could feel the weave, could feel Ianto's bones and skin and heat. It was a lot of data, and it made his head swirl - but in a good way, he was fairly certain.
"Also a spot of good detecting, sir," Ianto said, voice coming a bit lighter now.
This was better. Much better, he thought as he convinced Ianto to sit down so he continue his exploring properly. How was it that Ianto always knew how to get him unstuck? Ianto was thousands of times better than a rubber band at his wrist. Joe still had a long road to go, but he felt much steadier knowing that Ianto was there with him.
Fandom: Whitechapel, Torchwood
Characters: Joe Chandler/Ianto Jones
Rating: PG
Word Count: Around 850
Setting: London (Whitechapel, specifically.)
Author's Notes/Summary: Ianto Jones, formerly of Torchwood 3, works for the Whitechapel Police as Ed Buchan's assistant in the station's archive. Ianto and DI Joe Chandler have known each other for awhile, and things are starting to...turn into more than just a friendship or working relationship. Check out tags at the top if you're interested in other related fic. (If anyone is interested in more of this pairing, follow @SometimesARebel and @TeaBoyIanto on twitter.)
Shirts and Suits
His fingertips trailed over the crisp fabric of Ianto's shirt, the heat of his skin radiating underneath. Joe glanced up from where his fingers met the white cloth to the brilliant blue of Ianto's eyes.
"All right, sir?"
"Your eyes are very...blue." He neatly avoided the question - mostly unconsciously because Ianto's eyes are a surprisingly bright blue. He'd found himself caught in them more than he'd care to admit.
"Yours are fairly blue yourself."
"Hm." The notice surprised him and he lowered his gaze, eyes fluttering closed - it wasn't even a compliment, but somehow even just having all of Ianto's laser focus and attention made him feel as awkward as a teenager. Well, other normal teenagers. He didn't have time for lovelorn feelings back then. Not that he was lovelorn now. Not at all. Aside from being positively confusing, it was dizzying and refreshing to have these sorts of thoughts and feelings. He felt like...Ianto was someone he could have those feelings with. Someone he felt he had options with. Someone who accepted how he was. Or at least that was what he knew of the man so far.
"They are. Very blue, sir. I like them." Ianto insisted lightly, as his fingers brushed the cuff of Joe's shirt sleeve, always treating him with the most careful of kid gloves. His fingers drifted a little further for a brief half-second, touching Joe's skin, and it sent a shiver right through him. It was somehow so thrilling. The contact felt like a spark over his skin. He didn't feel alarmed as he might've a month ago, nor disgusted. He felt connected.
Joe moved his hands again, soaking up the texture of Ianto's shirt, sliding down the smooth stripe of his tie... Touching without actually touching. That was safe. It would probably be three, four, possibly six or eight times of testing this out before he might feel safe enough to enquire about more. He's sure that Ianto was ready for more at any time - or he'd gotten no objections from the man - but Ianto's been nothing but polite, gentlemanly, patient. He hadn't attempted to move closer, hadn't moved to unbutton any buttons; he'd allowed Joe all the control.
Softly, Joe drifted his fingers along the cloth of Ianto's shoulders, exploring, absorbing, just testing the waters as it were. He- well, he feels he needs to test his own reactions. The cloth is so crisp and white compared to the dark sheen of Ianto's belt below, compared to the texture of Ianto's tie... He doesn't really trust himself with the whole vault that is Ianto Jones, not without ample preparation and-- information.
It was frustrating, that much he's well aware of. For them both, likely, but for himself specifically. Emotionally, he wanted to see more, try more but-- It was just so daunting. Mentally, physically, he felt uncertain, unclear-- worried was really the only word for it. Some moments he wanted Ianto to take the choice away from him, loosen his own tie, unbutton his own shirt- just give him that nudge to help Joe move forward. But that wasn't Ianto - and more importantly, he couldn't push Ianto into making his decisions for him. He had to get there on his own and he bloody well knew that. It just seemed easier. Sometimes he ached for things to be bloody easy!
Clearly, some of his emotions were leaking onto his face, because Ianto's hand was cupping his cheek and he was tilting Joe's face up. "You're thinking again, sir. Stop that. Besides, there's plenty more fabric on me that you haven't gotten to." Ianto's smile was impish, and exactly the smile that made Joe's hands tingle and a smile stretch across his face, albeit a bit sheepishly at the moment.
"Like here?" Joe drew his thumb across the strip of belt at Ianto's waist, skin dragging on the leather. He felt more confident with Ianto's small encouragement.
"Mhm, yes, I'd say that's some, sir." Ianto's breathing had increased incrementally, Joe could tell from the rise and fall of his chest under that smooth shirt.
"And here?" Joe's fingertips slid over the sides of Ianto's narrow hips, and he closed his eyes, taking in the feel of the fabric, the feel of Ianto, and he found himself leaning in closer. It wasn't wool precisely, but it caught his fingertips, he could feel the weave, could feel Ianto's bones and skin and heat. It was a lot of data, and it made his head swirl - but in a good way, he was fairly certain.
"Also a spot of good detecting, sir," Ianto said, voice coming a bit lighter now.
This was better. Much better, he thought as he convinced Ianto to sit down so he continue his exploring properly. How was it that Ianto always knew how to get him unstuck? Ianto was thousands of times better than a rubber band at his wrist. Joe still had a long road to go, but he felt much steadier knowing that Ianto was there with him.