Just Like A Jones 36/40
Just Like A Jones
Chapter: 36
Rating: NC-17 for series
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto. Mica. David. Martha. Gwen/Rhys. Lois. Johnny/Rhiannon.
Synopsis: Mica may be a Davies, but sometimes she acts like a Jones. Set 13 years in the future. The world is a very different place, and Torchwood is a world that Jack doesn't want to know, but a promise made a long time ago brings him back to their door whether he likes it or not. Mica is in awe of a past she didn't know and a man she barely remembers, but her passion for his world takes her on a journey she never expected.
Spoilers: Aftermath of COE.
Disclaimer: Not mine, if it was this woul not need to be written.
Thanks. Thanks to everyone who has replied so far XD. As i have said before it was lack of feedback that made me give up before.
PART 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35
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Rhys returned home just before lunchtime to the smell of bacon sizzling. The aroma of it, and the accompanying sound of it hopping and popping over the oil in the pan, drew him straight towards the kitchen. Then he saw her; Gwen hadn't been home on a Saturday morning for months, and even then it had been more to do with a severe case of the lurgy than any real desire to stay at home. Watching her standing there, flipping the bacon as she listened to Radio 1, reminded him of a time he thought had gone. It reminded him of life before Torchwood, when Gwen would make bacon butties and coffee to cure him of his Saturday morning hangover.
“I thought my Mam was coming around today.”
“I told her not to bother.” Gwen flipped the bacon in the pan. “I thought I would give Ianto a little taste of Saturdays that didn't include watching the omnibus of Corrie and learning how to rearrange my cupboards so that I can't find anything when I come in from work.” Gwen stopped tending to the bacon for a moment and started to talk animatedly with the spatula in hand, looking up the ceiling as if she was talking to someone upstairs. “I mean, seriously, what is so wrong with where I keep my coffee cups that she needs to change it every time she has a spare few hours.” She went back to the bacon. “Bloody interfering bat.”
“Oh God.” Rhys groaned like a teenager in a strop, and closed his eyes as he rested against the pantry door. “What has she said this time?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the kitchen chair, then poured himself a cup of coffee. “Are you sure?”
“Why wouldn't I be?”
“Well you're here and not at work.”
“So?”
“When you tell my mother not to bother coming over it usually means that she's said something wrong.”
Gwen took the bacon off the heat and put it between two slices of bread then cut it, the thick layer of brown sauce oozing out of the edges. She turned around and handed it to Rhys, then leaned back against the kitchen counter.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, but I can't promise to know the answer.” He took a bite of the sandwich and closed his eyes in pleasure. “This is gorgeous by the way,” Rhys said, dipping his tongue out to catch a dribble of sauce.
“Am I here enough?”
“What?”
“Am I here for you and Ianto?”
Rhys swallowed what he was chewing and washed it down with a mouthful of coffee, then walked over to her, carrying the plate with him. “What brought this on?”
“Just something that someone said.”
“And what did they say?” He took another bite.
Gwen sighed. “It doesn't matter.”
“I think it matters.” Rhys put the plate down on the kitchen counter and wrapped his arm around her waist, then pulled her towards him. “If someone has said something that makes you upset, then I want to know about it.”
“Why?” Gwen looked at him, a smear of brown spread across his cheek, and smiled. “So you can go and sort them out?”
“No. You know you're much better at sorting people out these days than I am, your right hook is seconds to none, my back would probably go out and I wouldn't want to meet you in a dark alley if I was your enemy. But, sometimes I like to live in denial and pretend that I'm the one that looks after you.”
“You do look after me,” she said, “you hold me together.”
“And so are you going to tell me what's wrong?”
Gwen sighed and wiped the smear of sauce off his cheek with her thumb, then licked it. “Someone asked me if I was there for my kid and I said yes.”
“And you are.”
“But am I really?” she asked. “I mean, I'm home on Saturday and you think it's because something is wrong with the babysitting schedule.”
“Okay, so do you get to every parents evening or every footie match? No.” He sighed. “ But that doesn't mean you're not there.”
“I'm not like most Mams, I cant think of a single time when I've been home when I need to be. It's always you that looks after him after he falls off his bike, or runs smack into the goalposts and almost knocks himself out.” She sighed. “Am I crap?”
“No. I mean, yeah, most Mams are there to pick their kids up when they fall over and kiss their knee, but most Mams don't save the world every day. You go to work and protect everyone, so don't feel bad about not being home on a Saturday, you're not missing much.”
Gwen wrapped her arms around him and kissed him softly. “Thank you.”
“It's what I'm here for."
“How about I ring your Mam and ask her if she fancies having Ianto to stay overnight?” Gwen put her hands into Rhys' pockets and squeezed tightly. “Then we can pick him up tomorrow and go and spend the day somewhere. Torchwood can cope without me for one weekend.”
Rhys smiled. It was the kind of cheeky smile that made his eyes spark up; the smile that Gwen first fell in love with. “And what would we do with our child-free evening, then?”
“Curry, Beer, shit telly and a very early night.”
“I like early nights.” He pulled her in for a kiss. “Not had one in a while.”
Gwen took out her phone and switched it off, then put it into the kitchen drawer. “And Torchwood is off-limits. I promise. I'm taking time off.”
“What if they need you?”
She shrugged. “They're well-trained enough, but if I see the sky falling down I might ring in just to check on them.”
They ignored the sound of the doorbell as the chime rang out, and pulled each other in for a kiss instead.
“Your son let me in.” A voice came from the doorway. “This must be the day for a kitchen cwtch.”
“Mica?” Gwen distanced herself from her husband and looked at the woman that stood in the doorway. She clutched a white envelope in one hand and a pair of car keys in the other. “What are you doing here?”
“I went to the Hub and they said you were staying at home today. I have a message for you.” She smiled a little nervously at the woman she wasn't sure was still her boss or not. “I won't stay long.”
Rhys kissed Gwen's cheek, then picked up his buttie and his cup of coffee from the bench. “I'll let you two talk.” He walked out of the kitchen and shut the door behind him.
“I thought you had ran away,” Gwen said, “you disappeared off the face of the earth. Your Mam has been worried sick.”
“I know. I'm sorry.” Mica took a step towards her and handed her the envelope, then gestured to the table. “You might want to sit down to read that.”
“I know about Ianto.” She took the letter and sat down. “That's what this is about isn't it?”
“How do you know?”
“I saw him.” Gwen indicated at the chair beside her, prompting her to sit down. “I followed you and your brother into the country and I saw him. I can't say I wasn't a little shocked.” She ran her fingers over the handwriting on the front of the letter and smiled at the way Ianto had written her name so meticulously, like always. “How is he?”
“As good as can be expected.” Mica took the seat opposite Gwen. “Given that he used to be--”
“Dead?”
“Yeah.”
“Is this why you joined Torchwood?” She asked. “To use my resources? Because I can't believe for one moment that you joining Torchwood, and him suddenly springing back to life is just some big coincidence.”
“I won't lie, it was half of the reason.”
“And the other half?”
“I wanted to be like him, to see what it was like.” Mica lowered her eyes. “I understand that you're upset abut it, angry even, but it was just something I had to do. I know I can't come back.”
“Why not?” Gwen looked at her over the table. “We all make mistakes, God knows Ianto made a few, and I'm still making them.”
“I'm not staying,” Mica said, “I only came to give you that letter from Uncle Ianto.”
Gwen stood up and poured Mica a cup of coffee. “Look, I'm busy today but I have ten minutes. Let's talk.”
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“I hate police stations,” Rhiannon told Andy, “and hospitals.”
“So, why are you here if you hate them so much?”
“They're just so crampy, aren't they?”
She looked around the room; it was small and grey with red chairs, and a old table with a jug of water and two stacked glasses. The carpet looked ancient, like it had been there for so long that it had been trodden into the floor, with the odd black stain that appeared on most old carpets but nobody could ever explain; she could see the route most people took by the way it was worn, a single track towards chair then out again. The red material on the chairs had started to fray, giving way to the yellowing foam underneath, and the smell of febreze battled against foist to try and make the room smell fresh; it failed.
“It's claustrophobic.” She found the itchy spot on her wrist and found her release by clawing away at it again, then looked around the room. “It doesn't have any windows. There's no air.”
“Are you all right?”
“Why are there no windows?”
“I dunno.” Andy poured her a glass of water and pushed it towards her. “Just the way the building is put together, I suppose.”
“I don't like rooms without windows.” Rhiannon was starting to shake now, and the clawing of her nails against her skin was starting to make her bleed. She could feel the sweat pouring as her heart thumped so loud it felt as though it were trying to break out from the confines of her chest. Everywhere was starting to itch, and she switched her scratching to her other wrist. “I don't like this room.”
Andy leaned over the table. “Do you need a Doctor?”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, I don't need any doctors.”
“You're bleeding,” he said, “do you mind if I have a look?”
She pulled her arms away from the table. “I'm fine.”
“Well, you're not doing a very good job of it if you ask me.”
“I didn't ask you though,” she said, “did I?”
Andy slipped on a pair of gloves and reached across the desk, slowly moving towards her wrist. “If you don't let me I might need to call the medic.”
Rhiannon shook her head.
“Trust me. I just want to look.”
Rhiannon relaxed a little and let Andy look at them. “I itch sometimes,” she explained, “when I get anxious.”
“Looks to me like you're bloody anxious then.” He stood up. “How about I go and get a first aid kit and clean you up a little bit and you tell me what's making you so worried?”
“Okay.”
“Then we can talk about why you came to see me.”
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The sound of the television blurred into the background as Jack lay on the sofa with Ianto hovering above him pressing kisses against his collarbone. He didn't know exactly how they had ended up this way, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with falling over the arm of the sofa mid-kiss about half an hour ago. Now Ianto had positioned himself comfortably between his legs and was covering his body with kisses. They weren't the kind of kisses that grew to anything more, or the sort that made Jack's cock twitch. They were the lazy kind, the sort of kisses that didn't seem to have any other agenda; they were warm and soft and slow. They were innocent, and that was something that Jack had almost forgotten existed until now.
“Are you going to do that all day?” Jack asked.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No, I was just asking.”
Ianto rested his cheek against Jack's chest and placed his hand over his heart, then closed his eyes and pressed a gentle kiss against his skin.
“You didn't have to stop,” Jack protested, “I was enjoying it.”
“I haven't stopped. I'm just taking a break.”
Jack smiled at the warmth of Ianto's hand as it worked its way up his boxer shorts and stroked the skin on his thigh. “Your hand seems to have kept going.”
“My hand has another agenda.” His fingers crept across Jack's upper thigh until they found his cock and started to stroke it lightly. He could feel the beating of Jack's heart under one hand and the twitch of his cock with the other; it was a good day.
“I like that agenda.” Jack gasped when he felt Ianto's thumb flick over the head of his cock and pushed it into his hand with an involuntary buck of his hips. “I really like that agenda.”
A smile slowly spread across Ianto's lips. “I couldn't tell.”
The Welshman kissed Jack's chest again. Lazy kisses returned, but this time the agenda was clear. The caress of his lips travelled slowly south, grazing over his stomach and towards the band of his shorts. He took a moment to drag his tongue across the skin just above the waistband, then blew on it; Ianto could feel Jack's body respond underneath him, his breathing becoming uneven as he slipped the shorts over his hips and exposed his erection to the air.
Jack looked down at Ianto as his lips covered his cock, the warmth of his mouth surrounding it, and massaged his length with his tongue. It occurred to him that either Ianto Jones' oral sex technique had improved since his death, or that he had actually forgotten how good he had been in the first place; either way, he was good and Jack had missed it.
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Andy took his time to clean Rhiannon's wrists and bandage them to stop her from itching; He could see her fidgeting in her seat, balling her fists tight then releasing therm again. She was desperate to stay away from the station medic, she didn't seem to trust medics of any kind, and this was the only way.
“Now, I don't claim to be an expert or anything, but that isn't too bad.” He admired his handy work. “I must've been a nurse in a former life.” He smiled to himself. "I'm handy Andy."
Rhiannon smiled tightly. “Thank you,” she said, “for not calling a Doctor.”
“I'm squeamish myself. Dentists with me. Drills and things.”
“Give me a Dentist over a Doctor any day.”
He pulled off his gloves and threw them into the bin, then leaned on his elbows. “So, why did you come and see me?”
“You and Gwen Williams paid me a visit last night,” she said, “and I didn't sleep a wink thinking about it.”
“Oh, so you remembered something that could help with my enquiries?” he asked. “About the...” He struggled to remember what he had said, and took a wild stab at it. “Burglary??”
“Assault,” she corrected, “you said it was an assault.”
“Well, there's a lot of crime on that estate.”
“Why did you really come to my house? Because, and lets be honest here, it's a load of bullshit you two were talking last night, wasn't it?”
“Well I--”
“Wasn't it?”
Andy gave in. “Yeah, bullshit would be a pretty good word for it actually.”
“What did she want?”
“I've known Gwen for a long time, and she's changed a lot since our eyes first met over the last jam doughnut and a cup of rancid coffee in the caff on her first day, but one thing always remains the same.”
“What's that?”
“She's a right nosy cow and when she gets an idea in her head she refuses to let it go until she's solved it. But she does it with the best possible intentions, and no matter how annoying it can be to watch her following an impossible lead for a week without a wink of sleep, that's just the way she is.” He sighed. “She tries and tries to do the best thing, and sometimes she gets it wrong.”
“And what exactly was her idea?”
Andy opened his mouth, then closed it again without a single word; he didn't know exactly how to explain it to her without doing precisely what he had tried to stop Gwen from doing. It wasn't his place to tell Rhiannon about her brother.
“Classified,” he said, “special op's stuff.”
“Classified?” Rhiannon couldn't really believe what she was hearing. “I know all about Torchwood, and I know all about Gwen Williams and Jack Harkness. Don't spin me some shit about classified information.”
“I'm sorry.”
“You're all the bloody same you lot.” Rhiannon stood up and leaned across the table, prompting Andy to back away from her a little. “You investigate us, you think it's your right, then you tell us nothing!”
“I don't know anything okay!” Andy's voice came out a little louder than he wished it to; it almost surprised himself. “Getting any information out of Gwen is like getting blood out of a bloody stone. She doesn't tell me anything.”
“You're lying,” she said, “I can always tell when a copper is lying.”
“How?”
“Their lips move.”
“I'm sensing that you don't have a very high opinion of the Police force.”
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Jack caressed Ianto's hair as the Welshman lay with his head back on his chest again, his eyes closed. The opening credits of an old Bond film played out on the television screen, but Jack was too busy watching Ianto to notice. There was something about the post-orgasmic bliss that made him far too interested in the way that Ianto's eyelashes rested against his cheek, fanning out like the outer edge of a peacocks father. He watched the rise and fall of Ianto's chest as he drifted off, opening his eyes occasionally to try and keep his focus on the television. The way the thick curtains were closed, mixed with the darkness of the sky, made the room feel like it had been plunged into darkness. The only light came from the flashing glare of the television, and it made them feel a little dozy.
“Don't let me go to sleep,” Ianto said, “keep me awake.”
“What for? if you're tired then sleep.”
“I'm not tired. I'm just feeling a little lazy.” He pushed himself off Jack's chest and rubbed his eyes, then hovered his lips a breath away from Jack's mouth. “And I have plenty of time to be lazy, today is about you and me.”
“And it can still be about you and me if you doze off.” He kissed him softly, pulling him down onto his lips. “We can watch this movie and then go to bed, where we can sleep or--” Jack's smile spread slowly across his face as the thoughts of not sleeping invaded his mind. “Do other things.”
“What other things?”
Jack pulled Ianto in again, gripping his hair as his mouth Caressed the younger man's lips. “Many other things.” His words were lost between intoxicating kisses, and Jack felt Ianto's body as he shifted to hover above him, his hips pressing him into the couch.
“And you didn't consider that maybe now might be a better time to do these other things than after the film?”
“You like James Bond,” Jack said, finally finding a breath, “and if there's a toss up between me and Ursula Andress I know who I would chose to see in a white Bikini.”
“I'm not so sure.” Ianto kissed the skin just underneath Jack's ear. “The thought of you in a bikini is strangely appealing.”
“Cross-dressing?” Jack asked, raising his eyebrow. “Really?”
“I have a certain kink for it, yes.” His lips caressed their way down Jack's neck until they reached his collarbone. “Although I do have very specific tastes.”
Jack smiled. “What, you as James Bond and me as your Pussy Gallore?”
“That sounds wrong doesn't it?”
“Not as wrong as it should.” Jack pulled Ianto's body down, and slid his hands underneath his t- shirt. “I have a thing for men in suits.”
“You have one for men out of suits too, if I recall correctly.”
“You were direct proof of it.”
Jack pushed up Ianto's shirt until he could pull it over his head and threw it over the back of the couch. His hands slipped down Ianto's back and slid into his underwear, letting his fingers spread out; one of his digits ran between the cheeks of his arse, pressing down on his most sensitive spot.
Ianto moaned, pressing his erection against the older man's thigh, and covered his mouth with a kiss. His hands slipped down to Jack's sides, pushing his shorts down a little.
“Now, I might not have a white bikini and you may not be James Bond, but I'm pretty sure that we're ready to skip the movie and find some other entertainment.”
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“I don't trust you,” Rhiannon said, “none of you. You're all corrupt. The government, the army, the police, even Torchwood. You never do anything to help us, you only help yourselves.”
“Not all of us. Yeah, times are hard and a lot of people take backhanders and bribes, brown envelopes under the table in payment for a blind eye or a turned back, but I'm not one of them, and neither is Gwen.”
“Prove it.”
“I can't, I can only say that if there's one person you can trust to be on your side, then it's her.”
The door flung open and Rhiannon turned to see Mica standing in the doorway.
“Hi Mam.”
free hit counters PART 37 HERE
Chapter: 36
Rating: NC-17 for series
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto. Mica. David. Martha. Gwen/Rhys. Lois. Johnny/Rhiannon.
Synopsis: Mica may be a Davies, but sometimes she acts like a Jones. Set 13 years in the future. The world is a very different place, and Torchwood is a world that Jack doesn't want to know, but a promise made a long time ago brings him back to their door whether he likes it or not. Mica is in awe of a past she didn't know and a man she barely remembers, but her passion for his world takes her on a journey she never expected.
Spoilers: Aftermath of COE.
Disclaimer: Not mine, if it was this woul not need to be written.
Thanks. Thanks to everyone who has replied so far XD. As i have said before it was lack of feedback that made me give up before.
PART 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35
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Rhys returned home just before lunchtime to the smell of bacon sizzling. The aroma of it, and the accompanying sound of it hopping and popping over the oil in the pan, drew him straight towards the kitchen. Then he saw her; Gwen hadn't been home on a Saturday morning for months, and even then it had been more to do with a severe case of the lurgy than any real desire to stay at home. Watching her standing there, flipping the bacon as she listened to Radio 1, reminded him of a time he thought had gone. It reminded him of life before Torchwood, when Gwen would make bacon butties and coffee to cure him of his Saturday morning hangover.
“I thought my Mam was coming around today.”
“I told her not to bother.” Gwen flipped the bacon in the pan. “I thought I would give Ianto a little taste of Saturdays that didn't include watching the omnibus of Corrie and learning how to rearrange my cupboards so that I can't find anything when I come in from work.” Gwen stopped tending to the bacon for a moment and started to talk animatedly with the spatula in hand, looking up the ceiling as if she was talking to someone upstairs. “I mean, seriously, what is so wrong with where I keep my coffee cups that she needs to change it every time she has a spare few hours.” She went back to the bacon. “Bloody interfering bat.”
“Oh God.” Rhys groaned like a teenager in a strop, and closed his eyes as he rested against the pantry door. “What has she said this time?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the kitchen chair, then poured himself a cup of coffee. “Are you sure?”
“Why wouldn't I be?”
“Well you're here and not at work.”
“So?”
“When you tell my mother not to bother coming over it usually means that she's said something wrong.”
Gwen took the bacon off the heat and put it between two slices of bread then cut it, the thick layer of brown sauce oozing out of the edges. She turned around and handed it to Rhys, then leaned back against the kitchen counter.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, but I can't promise to know the answer.” He took a bite of the sandwich and closed his eyes in pleasure. “This is gorgeous by the way,” Rhys said, dipping his tongue out to catch a dribble of sauce.
“Am I here enough?”
“What?”
“Am I here for you and Ianto?”
Rhys swallowed what he was chewing and washed it down with a mouthful of coffee, then walked over to her, carrying the plate with him. “What brought this on?”
“Just something that someone said.”
“And what did they say?” He took another bite.
Gwen sighed. “It doesn't matter.”
“I think it matters.” Rhys put the plate down on the kitchen counter and wrapped his arm around her waist, then pulled her towards him. “If someone has said something that makes you upset, then I want to know about it.”
“Why?” Gwen looked at him, a smear of brown spread across his cheek, and smiled. “So you can go and sort them out?”
“No. You know you're much better at sorting people out these days than I am, your right hook is seconds to none, my back would probably go out and I wouldn't want to meet you in a dark alley if I was your enemy. But, sometimes I like to live in denial and pretend that I'm the one that looks after you.”
“You do look after me,” she said, “you hold me together.”
“And so are you going to tell me what's wrong?”
Gwen sighed and wiped the smear of sauce off his cheek with her thumb, then licked it. “Someone asked me if I was there for my kid and I said yes.”
“And you are.”
“But am I really?” she asked. “I mean, I'm home on Saturday and you think it's because something is wrong with the babysitting schedule.”
“Okay, so do you get to every parents evening or every footie match? No.” He sighed. “ But that doesn't mean you're not there.”
“I'm not like most Mams, I cant think of a single time when I've been home when I need to be. It's always you that looks after him after he falls off his bike, or runs smack into the goalposts and almost knocks himself out.” She sighed. “Am I crap?”
“No. I mean, yeah, most Mams are there to pick their kids up when they fall over and kiss their knee, but most Mams don't save the world every day. You go to work and protect everyone, so don't feel bad about not being home on a Saturday, you're not missing much.”
Gwen wrapped her arms around him and kissed him softly. “Thank you.”
“It's what I'm here for."
“How about I ring your Mam and ask her if she fancies having Ianto to stay overnight?” Gwen put her hands into Rhys' pockets and squeezed tightly. “Then we can pick him up tomorrow and go and spend the day somewhere. Torchwood can cope without me for one weekend.”
Rhys smiled. It was the kind of cheeky smile that made his eyes spark up; the smile that Gwen first fell in love with. “And what would we do with our child-free evening, then?”
“Curry, Beer, shit telly and a very early night.”
“I like early nights.” He pulled her in for a kiss. “Not had one in a while.”
Gwen took out her phone and switched it off, then put it into the kitchen drawer. “And Torchwood is off-limits. I promise. I'm taking time off.”
“What if they need you?”
She shrugged. “They're well-trained enough, but if I see the sky falling down I might ring in just to check on them.”
They ignored the sound of the doorbell as the chime rang out, and pulled each other in for a kiss instead.
“Your son let me in.” A voice came from the doorway. “This must be the day for a kitchen cwtch.”
“Mica?” Gwen distanced herself from her husband and looked at the woman that stood in the doorway. She clutched a white envelope in one hand and a pair of car keys in the other. “What are you doing here?”
“I went to the Hub and they said you were staying at home today. I have a message for you.” She smiled a little nervously at the woman she wasn't sure was still her boss or not. “I won't stay long.”
Rhys kissed Gwen's cheek, then picked up his buttie and his cup of coffee from the bench. “I'll let you two talk.” He walked out of the kitchen and shut the door behind him.
“I thought you had ran away,” Gwen said, “you disappeared off the face of the earth. Your Mam has been worried sick.”
“I know. I'm sorry.” Mica took a step towards her and handed her the envelope, then gestured to the table. “You might want to sit down to read that.”
“I know about Ianto.” She took the letter and sat down. “That's what this is about isn't it?”
“How do you know?”
“I saw him.” Gwen indicated at the chair beside her, prompting her to sit down. “I followed you and your brother into the country and I saw him. I can't say I wasn't a little shocked.” She ran her fingers over the handwriting on the front of the letter and smiled at the way Ianto had written her name so meticulously, like always. “How is he?”
“As good as can be expected.” Mica took the seat opposite Gwen. “Given that he used to be--”
“Dead?”
“Yeah.”
“Is this why you joined Torchwood?” She asked. “To use my resources? Because I can't believe for one moment that you joining Torchwood, and him suddenly springing back to life is just some big coincidence.”
“I won't lie, it was half of the reason.”
“And the other half?”
“I wanted to be like him, to see what it was like.” Mica lowered her eyes. “I understand that you're upset abut it, angry even, but it was just something I had to do. I know I can't come back.”
“Why not?” Gwen looked at her over the table. “We all make mistakes, God knows Ianto made a few, and I'm still making them.”
“I'm not staying,” Mica said, “I only came to give you that letter from Uncle Ianto.”
Gwen stood up and poured Mica a cup of coffee. “Look, I'm busy today but I have ten minutes. Let's talk.”
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“I hate police stations,” Rhiannon told Andy, “and hospitals.”
“So, why are you here if you hate them so much?”
“They're just so crampy, aren't they?”
She looked around the room; it was small and grey with red chairs, and a old table with a jug of water and two stacked glasses. The carpet looked ancient, like it had been there for so long that it had been trodden into the floor, with the odd black stain that appeared on most old carpets but nobody could ever explain; she could see the route most people took by the way it was worn, a single track towards chair then out again. The red material on the chairs had started to fray, giving way to the yellowing foam underneath, and the smell of febreze battled against foist to try and make the room smell fresh; it failed.
“It's claustrophobic.” She found the itchy spot on her wrist and found her release by clawing away at it again, then looked around the room. “It doesn't have any windows. There's no air.”
“Are you all right?”
“Why are there no windows?”
“I dunno.” Andy poured her a glass of water and pushed it towards her. “Just the way the building is put together, I suppose.”
“I don't like rooms without windows.” Rhiannon was starting to shake now, and the clawing of her nails against her skin was starting to make her bleed. She could feel the sweat pouring as her heart thumped so loud it felt as though it were trying to break out from the confines of her chest. Everywhere was starting to itch, and she switched her scratching to her other wrist. “I don't like this room.”
Andy leaned over the table. “Do you need a Doctor?”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, I don't need any doctors.”
“You're bleeding,” he said, “do you mind if I have a look?”
She pulled her arms away from the table. “I'm fine.”
“Well, you're not doing a very good job of it if you ask me.”
“I didn't ask you though,” she said, “did I?”
Andy slipped on a pair of gloves and reached across the desk, slowly moving towards her wrist. “If you don't let me I might need to call the medic.”
Rhiannon shook her head.
“Trust me. I just want to look.”
Rhiannon relaxed a little and let Andy look at them. “I itch sometimes,” she explained, “when I get anxious.”
“Looks to me like you're bloody anxious then.” He stood up. “How about I go and get a first aid kit and clean you up a little bit and you tell me what's making you so worried?”
“Okay.”
“Then we can talk about why you came to see me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sound of the television blurred into the background as Jack lay on the sofa with Ianto hovering above him pressing kisses against his collarbone. He didn't know exactly how they had ended up this way, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with falling over the arm of the sofa mid-kiss about half an hour ago. Now Ianto had positioned himself comfortably between his legs and was covering his body with kisses. They weren't the kind of kisses that grew to anything more, or the sort that made Jack's cock twitch. They were the lazy kind, the sort of kisses that didn't seem to have any other agenda; they were warm and soft and slow. They were innocent, and that was something that Jack had almost forgotten existed until now.
“Are you going to do that all day?” Jack asked.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No, I was just asking.”
Ianto rested his cheek against Jack's chest and placed his hand over his heart, then closed his eyes and pressed a gentle kiss against his skin.
“You didn't have to stop,” Jack protested, “I was enjoying it.”
“I haven't stopped. I'm just taking a break.”
Jack smiled at the warmth of Ianto's hand as it worked its way up his boxer shorts and stroked the skin on his thigh. “Your hand seems to have kept going.”
“My hand has another agenda.” His fingers crept across Jack's upper thigh until they found his cock and started to stroke it lightly. He could feel the beating of Jack's heart under one hand and the twitch of his cock with the other; it was a good day.
“I like that agenda.” Jack gasped when he felt Ianto's thumb flick over the head of his cock and pushed it into his hand with an involuntary buck of his hips. “I really like that agenda.”
A smile slowly spread across Ianto's lips. “I couldn't tell.”
The Welshman kissed Jack's chest again. Lazy kisses returned, but this time the agenda was clear. The caress of his lips travelled slowly south, grazing over his stomach and towards the band of his shorts. He took a moment to drag his tongue across the skin just above the waistband, then blew on it; Ianto could feel Jack's body respond underneath him, his breathing becoming uneven as he slipped the shorts over his hips and exposed his erection to the air.
Jack looked down at Ianto as his lips covered his cock, the warmth of his mouth surrounding it, and massaged his length with his tongue. It occurred to him that either Ianto Jones' oral sex technique had improved since his death, or that he had actually forgotten how good he had been in the first place; either way, he was good and Jack had missed it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Andy took his time to clean Rhiannon's wrists and bandage them to stop her from itching; He could see her fidgeting in her seat, balling her fists tight then releasing therm again. She was desperate to stay away from the station medic, she didn't seem to trust medics of any kind, and this was the only way.
“Now, I don't claim to be an expert or anything, but that isn't too bad.” He admired his handy work. “I must've been a nurse in a former life.” He smiled to himself. "I'm handy Andy."
Rhiannon smiled tightly. “Thank you,” she said, “for not calling a Doctor.”
“I'm squeamish myself. Dentists with me. Drills and things.”
“Give me a Dentist over a Doctor any day.”
He pulled off his gloves and threw them into the bin, then leaned on his elbows. “So, why did you come and see me?”
“You and Gwen Williams paid me a visit last night,” she said, “and I didn't sleep a wink thinking about it.”
“Oh, so you remembered something that could help with my enquiries?” he asked. “About the...” He struggled to remember what he had said, and took a wild stab at it. “Burglary??”
“Assault,” she corrected, “you said it was an assault.”
“Well, there's a lot of crime on that estate.”
“Why did you really come to my house? Because, and lets be honest here, it's a load of bullshit you two were talking last night, wasn't it?”
“Well I--”
“Wasn't it?”
Andy gave in. “Yeah, bullshit would be a pretty good word for it actually.”
“What did she want?”
“I've known Gwen for a long time, and she's changed a lot since our eyes first met over the last jam doughnut and a cup of rancid coffee in the caff on her first day, but one thing always remains the same.”
“What's that?”
“She's a right nosy cow and when she gets an idea in her head she refuses to let it go until she's solved it. But she does it with the best possible intentions, and no matter how annoying it can be to watch her following an impossible lead for a week without a wink of sleep, that's just the way she is.” He sighed. “She tries and tries to do the best thing, and sometimes she gets it wrong.”
“And what exactly was her idea?”
Andy opened his mouth, then closed it again without a single word; he didn't know exactly how to explain it to her without doing precisely what he had tried to stop Gwen from doing. It wasn't his place to tell Rhiannon about her brother.
“Classified,” he said, “special op's stuff.”
“Classified?” Rhiannon couldn't really believe what she was hearing. “I know all about Torchwood, and I know all about Gwen Williams and Jack Harkness. Don't spin me some shit about classified information.”
“I'm sorry.”
“You're all the bloody same you lot.” Rhiannon stood up and leaned across the table, prompting Andy to back away from her a little. “You investigate us, you think it's your right, then you tell us nothing!”
“I don't know anything okay!” Andy's voice came out a little louder than he wished it to; it almost surprised himself. “Getting any information out of Gwen is like getting blood out of a bloody stone. She doesn't tell me anything.”
“You're lying,” she said, “I can always tell when a copper is lying.”
“How?”
“Their lips move.”
“I'm sensing that you don't have a very high opinion of the Police force.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jack caressed Ianto's hair as the Welshman lay with his head back on his chest again, his eyes closed. The opening credits of an old Bond film played out on the television screen, but Jack was too busy watching Ianto to notice. There was something about the post-orgasmic bliss that made him far too interested in the way that Ianto's eyelashes rested against his cheek, fanning out like the outer edge of a peacocks father. He watched the rise and fall of Ianto's chest as he drifted off, opening his eyes occasionally to try and keep his focus on the television. The way the thick curtains were closed, mixed with the darkness of the sky, made the room feel like it had been plunged into darkness. The only light came from the flashing glare of the television, and it made them feel a little dozy.
“Don't let me go to sleep,” Ianto said, “keep me awake.”
“What for? if you're tired then sleep.”
“I'm not tired. I'm just feeling a little lazy.” He pushed himself off Jack's chest and rubbed his eyes, then hovered his lips a breath away from Jack's mouth. “And I have plenty of time to be lazy, today is about you and me.”
“And it can still be about you and me if you doze off.” He kissed him softly, pulling him down onto his lips. “We can watch this movie and then go to bed, where we can sleep or--” Jack's smile spread slowly across his face as the thoughts of not sleeping invaded his mind. “Do other things.”
“What other things?”
Jack pulled Ianto in again, gripping his hair as his mouth Caressed the younger man's lips. “Many other things.” His words were lost between intoxicating kisses, and Jack felt Ianto's body as he shifted to hover above him, his hips pressing him into the couch.
“And you didn't consider that maybe now might be a better time to do these other things than after the film?”
“You like James Bond,” Jack said, finally finding a breath, “and if there's a toss up between me and Ursula Andress I know who I would chose to see in a white Bikini.”
“I'm not so sure.” Ianto kissed the skin just underneath Jack's ear. “The thought of you in a bikini is strangely appealing.”
“Cross-dressing?” Jack asked, raising his eyebrow. “Really?”
“I have a certain kink for it, yes.” His lips caressed their way down Jack's neck until they reached his collarbone. “Although I do have very specific tastes.”
Jack smiled. “What, you as James Bond and me as your Pussy Gallore?”
“That sounds wrong doesn't it?”
“Not as wrong as it should.” Jack pulled Ianto's body down, and slid his hands underneath his t- shirt. “I have a thing for men in suits.”
“You have one for men out of suits too, if I recall correctly.”
“You were direct proof of it.”
Jack pushed up Ianto's shirt until he could pull it over his head and threw it over the back of the couch. His hands slipped down Ianto's back and slid into his underwear, letting his fingers spread out; one of his digits ran between the cheeks of his arse, pressing down on his most sensitive spot.
Ianto moaned, pressing his erection against the older man's thigh, and covered his mouth with a kiss. His hands slipped down to Jack's sides, pushing his shorts down a little.
“Now, I might not have a white bikini and you may not be James Bond, but I'm pretty sure that we're ready to skip the movie and find some other entertainment.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I don't trust you,” Rhiannon said, “none of you. You're all corrupt. The government, the army, the police, even Torchwood. You never do anything to help us, you only help yourselves.”
“Not all of us. Yeah, times are hard and a lot of people take backhanders and bribes, brown envelopes under the table in payment for a blind eye or a turned back, but I'm not one of them, and neither is Gwen.”
“Prove it.”
“I can't, I can only say that if there's one person you can trust to be on your side, then it's her.”
The door flung open and Rhiannon turned to see Mica standing in the doorway.
“Hi Mam.”
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