fic: "Outfits"
Title: Outfits
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: completely PG
AN: late addition to the
boys4all challenge: Disguise
Summary: “Why don't you bloody ever wear jeans?”
“Why don't you bloody ever wear jeans?” The off the mark question came so out of the blue, that collectively, four pairs of chopsticks froze mid-air.
“Sorry?”
“What's with the period outfit?” Owen repeated, completely shameless. Jack carefully lowered his chopsticks before the strategically balanced fried shrimp landed on his shirt.
“So I don't have to spend an hour each day deciding what to wear," answered easily.
“Bollocks to that!” Owen muttered. “You can wear the same jeans every day, so what's with the wool? Got a wool fetish Ianto doesn't know about?”
Ianto coughed. “Excuse me, I'm in the room.” He spooned up some rice and put it in his mouth. “And what makes you think I don't know?” He raised an eyebrow, the secret kind that always made Owen furious and Jack smirk.
“So, you do know why?” Gwen asked curious, joining Owen in his quest for Jack's dress habits.
Ianto glanced in Jack's direction, who just shrugged. “Possibly,” he said, spearing a shrimp.
“It's something kinky, isn't it?” Owen made a disgusted sound. “Sorry I asked.”
Jack smiled and went back to his dinner.
**
“So, why don't you ever wear something else,” Ianto asked, casually leaning against the door frame, waiting for Jack to finish up. The others had already left.
Jack raised an eyebrow but didn't look up from the last folders he still had to sign. “Now you too? I thought you said you knew.”
Shrugging, Ianto stepped inside the office and perched himself on his spot on Jack's desk. “Owen doesn't need to know that. And I'm curious. There might be a fetish involved, but it's a long time to hang on to one.”
“I don't like jeans.” Jack answered casually. “They're too... constricting.” He started straightening the files on his desk, keeping his eyes down.
“It wouldn't have anything to do with the period then?” Jack stopped and looked up.
“It did,” he said slowly. “Still does, I suppose.” He stared at the great coat hanging on the coat rack. “It's the period when my life changed.” He made an off-hand comment with his hand. “Old habits.”
“Have you ever worn something else since then?”
Jack sighed. “Maybe variations, but it's basically always been this, since I met him.” He laced fingers through Ianto's hand closest to him and stayed quiet.
“Would you?” Jack looked at him questioningly. “Wear something else.”
Jack smirked seductively. “Why? You want me to play dress up? Put on a Superman costume so I can rescue the dashing young Welshman in distress?” The hand holding Ianto's snaked up the man's thigh.
“You have a one track mind, Jack Harkness,” Ianto admonished, stilling the treacherous fingers on their way to his crotch. “And I'm being serious.”
“Who says I wasn't?”
“You really have a Superman costume?” Ianto stared at him incredulously.
“You'll just have to find out, won't you?”
Unfazed, Ianto stood up. “If you won't be serious, there's no point to this conversation, is there?”
Jack's fingers squeezed his hand to stop him. “Wait, sorry. What would you want me to wear?”
Ianto shrugged. “Don't know. A suit, jeans, slacks.”
“And what would be in it for me?”
“Besides bearing witness to the utter and complete shock of the others when they see you dressed non-period?” He tilted his head and pretended to mull it over. “I'll wear something off your choosing.”
Both Jack's eyebrows went up, and then a wicked grin and devilish glint marked his features. “Within reason,” Ianto corrected, before Jack could think of the most scandalous items to wear. “So, no maid's outfit, nor any other profession that has me wearing a skirt, fishnets or heels. No sports equipment and/or sports clothing.” He paused. “And nothing that requires me to go shopping anywhere that is located in back alleys with neon lights or flashy colours.”
Jack pouted. “You took away all my suggestions!” he whined. “Okay.” He sighed and thought it over. “Those black leather pants and white Springsteen shirt you never wear besides indoors.”
“Jack, there's a reason why I never wear that shirt in public.”
“You once did.”
“I was twenty! And pissed drunk. And...” Jack gave him the puppy look, all big eyes and cute little smile with pouty lips and Ianto relented. He hated when Jack did that - could never say no. And Jack knew it. “Okay, you wear jeans with the black buttoned-down shirt - without the white tee - come Monday, and I'll see if I can still get into the leather pants.”
“Will you let me peel them off at the end of the day?”
“I suppose, if you must.” He smiled fondly when Jack openly grinned and leaned in for a kiss.
**
“Jack?” Ianto whispered that night, lifting his head from its comfortable spot on Jack's chest.
“Hmm?”
“You know you don't have to wear a disguise, not anymore.” Jack went completely still and Ianto kissed the skin closest to him - just over Jack's heart. “Not with me.”
“I know,” Jack said quietly, forcing himself to let out a steady slow breath. “I euhm... I know.”
Ianto nodded and laid back down, nuzzling Jack's chest and planting a butterfly kiss on the skin.
**
When Ianto woke the next morning, he found Jack in the kitchen, hands busy with eggs and spices, dressed in a pair of Ianto's jeans.
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: completely PG
AN: late addition to the
boys4all challenge: Disguise
Summary: “Why don't you bloody ever wear jeans?”
“Why don't you bloody ever wear jeans?” The off the mark question came so out of the blue, that collectively, four pairs of chopsticks froze mid-air.
“Sorry?”
“What's with the period outfit?” Owen repeated, completely shameless. Jack carefully lowered his chopsticks before the strategically balanced fried shrimp landed on his shirt.
“So I don't have to spend an hour each day deciding what to wear," answered easily.
“Bollocks to that!” Owen muttered. “You can wear the same jeans every day, so what's with the wool? Got a wool fetish Ianto doesn't know about?”
Ianto coughed. “Excuse me, I'm in the room.” He spooned up some rice and put it in his mouth. “And what makes you think I don't know?” He raised an eyebrow, the secret kind that always made Owen furious and Jack smirk.
“So, you do know why?” Gwen asked curious, joining Owen in his quest for Jack's dress habits.
Ianto glanced in Jack's direction, who just shrugged. “Possibly,” he said, spearing a shrimp.
“It's something kinky, isn't it?” Owen made a disgusted sound. “Sorry I asked.”
Jack smiled and went back to his dinner.
**
“So, why don't you ever wear something else,” Ianto asked, casually leaning against the door frame, waiting for Jack to finish up. The others had already left.
Jack raised an eyebrow but didn't look up from the last folders he still had to sign. “Now you too? I thought you said you knew.”
Shrugging, Ianto stepped inside the office and perched himself on his spot on Jack's desk. “Owen doesn't need to know that. And I'm curious. There might be a fetish involved, but it's a long time to hang on to one.”
“I don't like jeans.” Jack answered casually. “They're too... constricting.” He started straightening the files on his desk, keeping his eyes down.
“It wouldn't have anything to do with the period then?” Jack stopped and looked up.
“It did,” he said slowly. “Still does, I suppose.” He stared at the great coat hanging on the coat rack. “It's the period when my life changed.” He made an off-hand comment with his hand. “Old habits.”
“Have you ever worn something else since then?”
Jack sighed. “Maybe variations, but it's basically always been this, since I met him.” He laced fingers through Ianto's hand closest to him and stayed quiet.
“Would you?” Jack looked at him questioningly. “Wear something else.”
Jack smirked seductively. “Why? You want me to play dress up? Put on a Superman costume so I can rescue the dashing young Welshman in distress?” The hand holding Ianto's snaked up the man's thigh.
“You have a one track mind, Jack Harkness,” Ianto admonished, stilling the treacherous fingers on their way to his crotch. “And I'm being serious.”
“Who says I wasn't?”
“You really have a Superman costume?” Ianto stared at him incredulously.
“You'll just have to find out, won't you?”
Unfazed, Ianto stood up. “If you won't be serious, there's no point to this conversation, is there?”
Jack's fingers squeezed his hand to stop him. “Wait, sorry. What would you want me to wear?”
Ianto shrugged. “Don't know. A suit, jeans, slacks.”
“And what would be in it for me?”
“Besides bearing witness to the utter and complete shock of the others when they see you dressed non-period?” He tilted his head and pretended to mull it over. “I'll wear something off your choosing.”
Both Jack's eyebrows went up, and then a wicked grin and devilish glint marked his features. “Within reason,” Ianto corrected, before Jack could think of the most scandalous items to wear. “So, no maid's outfit, nor any other profession that has me wearing a skirt, fishnets or heels. No sports equipment and/or sports clothing.” He paused. “And nothing that requires me to go shopping anywhere that is located in back alleys with neon lights or flashy colours.”
Jack pouted. “You took away all my suggestions!” he whined. “Okay.” He sighed and thought it over. “Those black leather pants and white Springsteen shirt you never wear besides indoors.”
“Jack, there's a reason why I never wear that shirt in public.”
“You once did.”
“I was twenty! And pissed drunk. And...” Jack gave him the puppy look, all big eyes and cute little smile with pouty lips and Ianto relented. He hated when Jack did that - could never say no. And Jack knew it. “Okay, you wear jeans with the black buttoned-down shirt - without the white tee - come Monday, and I'll see if I can still get into the leather pants.”
“Will you let me peel them off at the end of the day?”
“I suppose, if you must.” He smiled fondly when Jack openly grinned and leaned in for a kiss.
**
“Jack?” Ianto whispered that night, lifting his head from its comfortable spot on Jack's chest.
“Hmm?”
“You know you don't have to wear a disguise, not anymore.” Jack went completely still and Ianto kissed the skin closest to him - just over Jack's heart. “Not with me.”
“I know,” Jack said quietly, forcing himself to let out a steady slow breath. “I euhm... I know.”
Ianto nodded and laid back down, nuzzling Jack's chest and planting a butterfly kiss on the skin.
**
When Ianto woke the next morning, he found Jack in the kitchen, hands busy with eggs and spices, dressed in a pair of Ianto's jeans.