Part 1/13 - Hatful of Hollow
Title: Hatful of Hollow (Part 1 of 13)
Disclaimer: I'm not RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: General with the intention of creeping up the scale quite a bit.
Notes: Takes place not long after "Countrycide" but before "Greeks Bearing Gifts". Is exposition heavy as I really wanted to get into Ianto's head about how his relationship with Jack develops between "Cyberwoman" and "They Keep Killing Suzie". Title refers to an album by The Smiths.
Ianto wondered idly if Jack was watching him as he crossed the Plass. It would be easy enough, considering that the already ample CCTV coverage in this area was augmented by some of Torchwood's own equipment. The more he thought about it, the less he knew how he felt about it. He glanced up once before unlocking the Information Centre door, and imagined he could feel himself being watched from behind the lens.
When he'd come to Cardiff, everything had been so clear. Torchwood was a means to an end. Every moment, every breath was devoted to Lisa. It wasn't until things all came crashing down that he realized how empty he'd become. How lonely and twisted and hurt. In the awful aftermath, Torchwood was all Ianto had left. That and Jack's fragile mercy.
Ianto was intimately familiar with Torchwood policy. He knew that at best, he should be an amnesiac wreck right now. Or taking up space next to Suzie. Instead, Jack had simply watched him rage and cry while the rest of the team put the Hub back together. He'd lent Ianto fresh clothes. And with a look that made him feel more naked than he'd ever been in his life, he'd sent Ianto home for the night with the expectation that he return to work in the morning.
He had.
He switched on the overhead lights and the desk lamp. He gave the space a quick once over for security purposes, checking doors and making sure he was the only person -- or thing -- in the room. He switched on his PC and thought about the security camera's gaze. He glanced at it, then ducked into the office to start some water for the day's first batch of coffee. The others wouldn't arrive for at least another two hours, but Jack would be there. Jack always seemed to be there. He didn't know how he felt about that, either. Frankly, these days, he found it difficult to know how he was feeling about much of anything.
The first week after Lisa's death was a study in misery and guilt. Everything that didn't remind him of Lisa reminded him of what he'd done to the others. Gwen and Tosh seemed to spend every moment trying to draw him out and include him. Owen took every opportunity to snap at and abuse him. And Jack simply watched him from above, boring into him with his eyes. Each day, he resolved to leave, maybe run away to France or America. But every morning he came back to Torchwood.
Ianto put two scoops of coffee beans into the grinder and set it to coarse. He watched as the dark brown beans were pulverized into a coarse, aromatic grit. With a practiced movement, he tapped them into the coffee press, then gently poured the water over it. He watched the water grow dark as he pushed the plunger to the bottom of the press.
When Jack lost Estelle, Ianto hadn't known what to say. Part of him wanted to feel vindicated somehow, as if it had somehow levelled the pitch between them. But when he'd seen Jack's eyes, he didn't see a man getting his comeuppance. He saw a man who had lost more in his life than Ianto could ever begin to imagine. And yet, somehow, Jack kept going.
Ianto took the stairs. He counted the steps as he descended into the Hub, a mug in each hand. While some of the bruises had finally begun to fade, his right knee still twinged from Brecon Beacons. Owen had him on strict orders to give it gentle exercise and keep using it. Still, even the painkillers didn't take all of the ache away. He pressed a green button, and the large round door rolled aside. He stepped into the cage and watched the doors ease open as the other door closed behind him. The lights in the Hub were still set for night-time, but he could see a lamp on in Jack's office. He gingerly began his ascent, noting with irritation that his knee still objected more to an upward climb than a downward one.
Jack was still in his shirtsleeves, his braces dangling from his waist. He looked exhausted, and Ianto felt his cheeks flush a little bit. He suddenly felt a bit silly about his earlier speculations about the CCTV cameras..
"Coffee, sir?" It was almost more a statement than a question, and Jack readily accepted the mug. Ianto watched him take a long sip. He did not move away.
"Thank you, Ianto." Jack's kept his eyes on the screen.
"Do you need anything else, sir?" He held nervously to his own coffee, catching his reflection in the dark liquid. He still had a bit of a black eye. He winced and looked away, then back down at Jack.
"No thanks." Jack began to shuffle through a stack of papers. Requisition forms, mostly. Archival logs. He scibbled some figures onto a notepad and compared them to what he had onscreen.
"Jack." Ianto waited and watched as Jack put his pen down, paused for a moment, then met his gaze. He felt his heart come unmoored in his chest and start to waver between relocating to his throat or his stomach. He swallowed.
"I take it that wasn't the answer you were looking for." Jack took another sip of his coffee. He did not break eye contact. He seemed to be trying to take the whole thing in at once.
"No, sir. I mean --" Ianto flushed again. "Jack." He gave Jack a pleading look. "I just --"
"Yes?" Jack's neutral expression began to take on an amused cast.
Ianto pursed his lips, sighed, and put down his coffee mug. "Just this."
He came in too fast, too nervous, pressing his mouth hard against Jack's. He felt Jack tense, then relax, his lips and tongue eagerly searching out Ianto's. He buried his hands in Jack's hair. He felt a tingle go through him, almost like static electricity. Within moments he found himself straddling Jack in the chair, one hand behind Jack's head, the other behind his back, pulling Jack close. When he came up for air, he did so reluctantly. He bit his bottom lip and stared down at Jack's chest.
"That was unexpected," Jack chuckled beneath him and grinned broadly. "I mean, I'm not complaining. You've got an incredible mouth, Ianto Jones. I just wasn't expecting --" He stopped and cupped Ianto's face in his hands. Ianto felt Jack's gaze, felt him daring him to look him in the eye.
"Is this what you want, Ianto?"
It was that look again. That look that put everything on the table. The look that made him feel like Jack could see his soul. Those eyes were old. So old.
He licked his lips and took a deep breath.
"Yes, Jack. This is what I want."
===
Next Ep: 2/13
Disclaimer: I'm not RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: General with the intention of creeping up the scale quite a bit.
Notes: Takes place not long after "Countrycide" but before "Greeks Bearing Gifts". Is exposition heavy as I really wanted to get into Ianto's head about how his relationship with Jack develops between "Cyberwoman" and "They Keep Killing Suzie". Title refers to an album by The Smiths.
Ianto wondered idly if Jack was watching him as he crossed the Plass. It would be easy enough, considering that the already ample CCTV coverage in this area was augmented by some of Torchwood's own equipment. The more he thought about it, the less he knew how he felt about it. He glanced up once before unlocking the Information Centre door, and imagined he could feel himself being watched from behind the lens.
When he'd come to Cardiff, everything had been so clear. Torchwood was a means to an end. Every moment, every breath was devoted to Lisa. It wasn't until things all came crashing down that he realized how empty he'd become. How lonely and twisted and hurt. In the awful aftermath, Torchwood was all Ianto had left. That and Jack's fragile mercy.
Ianto was intimately familiar with Torchwood policy. He knew that at best, he should be an amnesiac wreck right now. Or taking up space next to Suzie. Instead, Jack had simply watched him rage and cry while the rest of the team put the Hub back together. He'd lent Ianto fresh clothes. And with a look that made him feel more naked than he'd ever been in his life, he'd sent Ianto home for the night with the expectation that he return to work in the morning.
He had.
He switched on the overhead lights and the desk lamp. He gave the space a quick once over for security purposes, checking doors and making sure he was the only person -- or thing -- in the room. He switched on his PC and thought about the security camera's gaze. He glanced at it, then ducked into the office to start some water for the day's first batch of coffee. The others wouldn't arrive for at least another two hours, but Jack would be there. Jack always seemed to be there. He didn't know how he felt about that, either. Frankly, these days, he found it difficult to know how he was feeling about much of anything.
The first week after Lisa's death was a study in misery and guilt. Everything that didn't remind him of Lisa reminded him of what he'd done to the others. Gwen and Tosh seemed to spend every moment trying to draw him out and include him. Owen took every opportunity to snap at and abuse him. And Jack simply watched him from above, boring into him with his eyes. Each day, he resolved to leave, maybe run away to France or America. But every morning he came back to Torchwood.
Ianto put two scoops of coffee beans into the grinder and set it to coarse. He watched as the dark brown beans were pulverized into a coarse, aromatic grit. With a practiced movement, he tapped them into the coffee press, then gently poured the water over it. He watched the water grow dark as he pushed the plunger to the bottom of the press.
When Jack lost Estelle, Ianto hadn't known what to say. Part of him wanted to feel vindicated somehow, as if it had somehow levelled the pitch between them. But when he'd seen Jack's eyes, he didn't see a man getting his comeuppance. He saw a man who had lost more in his life than Ianto could ever begin to imagine. And yet, somehow, Jack kept going.
Ianto took the stairs. He counted the steps as he descended into the Hub, a mug in each hand. While some of the bruises had finally begun to fade, his right knee still twinged from Brecon Beacons. Owen had him on strict orders to give it gentle exercise and keep using it. Still, even the painkillers didn't take all of the ache away. He pressed a green button, and the large round door rolled aside. He stepped into the cage and watched the doors ease open as the other door closed behind him. The lights in the Hub were still set for night-time, but he could see a lamp on in Jack's office. He gingerly began his ascent, noting with irritation that his knee still objected more to an upward climb than a downward one.
Jack was still in his shirtsleeves, his braces dangling from his waist. He looked exhausted, and Ianto felt his cheeks flush a little bit. He suddenly felt a bit silly about his earlier speculations about the CCTV cameras..
"Coffee, sir?" It was almost more a statement than a question, and Jack readily accepted the mug. Ianto watched him take a long sip. He did not move away.
"Thank you, Ianto." Jack's kept his eyes on the screen.
"Do you need anything else, sir?" He held nervously to his own coffee, catching his reflection in the dark liquid. He still had a bit of a black eye. He winced and looked away, then back down at Jack.
"No thanks." Jack began to shuffle through a stack of papers. Requisition forms, mostly. Archival logs. He scibbled some figures onto a notepad and compared them to what he had onscreen.
"Jack." Ianto waited and watched as Jack put his pen down, paused for a moment, then met his gaze. He felt his heart come unmoored in his chest and start to waver between relocating to his throat or his stomach. He swallowed.
"I take it that wasn't the answer you were looking for." Jack took another sip of his coffee. He did not break eye contact. He seemed to be trying to take the whole thing in at once.
"No, sir. I mean --" Ianto flushed again. "Jack." He gave Jack a pleading look. "I just --"
"Yes?" Jack's neutral expression began to take on an amused cast.
Ianto pursed his lips, sighed, and put down his coffee mug. "Just this."
He came in too fast, too nervous, pressing his mouth hard against Jack's. He felt Jack tense, then relax, his lips and tongue eagerly searching out Ianto's. He buried his hands in Jack's hair. He felt a tingle go through him, almost like static electricity. Within moments he found himself straddling Jack in the chair, one hand behind Jack's head, the other behind his back, pulling Jack close. When he came up for air, he did so reluctantly. He bit his bottom lip and stared down at Jack's chest.
"That was unexpected," Jack chuckled beneath him and grinned broadly. "I mean, I'm not complaining. You've got an incredible mouth, Ianto Jones. I just wasn't expecting --" He stopped and cupped Ianto's face in his hands. Ianto felt Jack's gaze, felt him daring him to look him in the eye.
"Is this what you want, Ianto?"
It was that look again. That look that put everything on the table. The look that made him feel like Jack could see his soul. Those eyes were old. So old.
He licked his lips and took a deep breath.
"Yes, Jack. This is what I want."
===
Next Ep: 2/13