Cold Coffee Chapter Three
Author junoharkness
Beta: a_silver_story
Rating: NC-17 overall. Don't know how bad this story's going to get
Warnings: None for this chapter
Summary: Ianto wakes up after COE
Disclaimer:If I owned Torchwood, Ianto would of never died, instead Gwen would have taken his place when facing 456. However I don't RTD owns it.
Thanks to a_silver_story for being Beta. Turned out way better than planned
John followed just behind Ianto as he headed out of the park. “You'll need a place to stay,” he called after him. “Oh - and stuff called money so you can get a place to stay.”
Ianto sighs irritably, coming to halt and turning to face him.
“Of course,” continues John. “I'll be glad to … put up with you …”
Weighing up his options, Ianto bit back his annoyance. With reluctance, he accepted. “You try anything ...” he threatened, and John gave him his best 'Innocent' face, grabbed his arm and started half leading, half dragging him in the opposite direction and behind a bush. Ianto raises an eyebrow, but is prevented from commenting by they the rather sudden pressure bearing down on every inch of his body. His head was spinning and spinning, the blood rushing around his ears, the air taken from his lungs and everything went black.
With a disconcerting lurch, the world came rushing back, his feet hitting hard ground unexpectedly and with a gasp of air and a spluttering cough he tumbled down to the floor as John stood by and watched with amusement. Heaving himself back up and fighting intense nausea, Ianto tried to take in his surroundings. “Woah … this place is huge … I'd never have thought you owned a place like this ...”
“Four bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, kitchen, family room, cellar, attic …” John ticked off his list. “You okay?” he asked with a frown, noticing Ianto's rather pallid complexion. Ianto gave a sharp nod, so John continued his gloating. “Probably much better than Jack's place,” he said, leading Ianto into the house and taking his jacket off, tossing it to the side and abandoning it and turning to watch Ianto carefully.
“Jack lived in the Hub … in a small bunk in his office,” Ianto told him.
John sniggered. “You're kidding me? I thought he was just joking when he said that ...” chuckled John, climbing the stairs and showing Ianto to his bedroom. “Your room is the second door on the right,” he pointed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Where am I?” groaned Jack, hardly able to sit up in whatever bed he'd found himself in. He had been mistaken when he had thought his previous hanger had been the worse in the known Universe: this one was ten times more unbearable. His whole body was feeling like lead, weighing him down into the mattress as he tried to heave himself to a sitting position. “I have to stop drinking ...” he self-deprivatingly muttered to himself.
The Doctor could hear Jack talking to thin air from the other room, and strode over to him with a huge grin on his face. “Great to see you up! Almost thought you were going to remain unconscious for Eternity - you've been asleep for about forty-eight hours now,” he said, the words rushing out of his mouth in a mad tumble.
Jack groaned a little louder then necessary. “I couldn't have been sleeping that long ...” He looked around the rom, not really recognising it and frowning in confused. “Where am I?”
The Doctor made an incredulous sound. “You must have had more to drink than I'd thought. You're on the TARDIS, Captain. This is your old room,” he explained, moving to perch on the end of the bed and watching Jack carefully.
“How did I get on the TARDIS?” Jack asked, massaging his temples and willing the pain to go away. “I don't remember.”
The Doctor chuckled quietly. “Well,” he began. “You were in the bar, drinking yourself to death … I came over and led you into the TARDIS where you passed out on your bed.”
Jack groaned again, the mournful sound making his own head hurt more. “I think I'm gonna ...” he started saying, then darted off to the bathroom before the Doctor could say anything. He returned a few minutes later, staggering a bit and laying back down on the bed heavily. “What did you want me for?” he asked, cuddling his pillow and biting back the urge to wail.
The Doctor cleared his throat.
“I want you to go back to Torchwood.”
Beta: a_silver_story
Rating: NC-17 overall. Don't know how bad this story's going to get
Warnings: None for this chapter
Summary: Ianto wakes up after COE
Disclaimer:If I owned Torchwood, Ianto would of never died, instead Gwen would have taken his place when facing 456. However I don't RTD owns it.
Thanks to a_silver_story for being Beta. Turned out way better than planned
John followed just behind Ianto as he headed out of the park. “You'll need a place to stay,” he called after him. “Oh - and stuff called money so you can get a place to stay.”
Ianto sighs irritably, coming to halt and turning to face him.
“Of course,” continues John. “I'll be glad to … put up with you …”
Weighing up his options, Ianto bit back his annoyance. With reluctance, he accepted. “You try anything ...” he threatened, and John gave him his best 'Innocent' face, grabbed his arm and started half leading, half dragging him in the opposite direction and behind a bush. Ianto raises an eyebrow, but is prevented from commenting by they the rather sudden pressure bearing down on every inch of his body. His head was spinning and spinning, the blood rushing around his ears, the air taken from his lungs and everything went black.
With a disconcerting lurch, the world came rushing back, his feet hitting hard ground unexpectedly and with a gasp of air and a spluttering cough he tumbled down to the floor as John stood by and watched with amusement. Heaving himself back up and fighting intense nausea, Ianto tried to take in his surroundings. “Woah … this place is huge … I'd never have thought you owned a place like this ...”
“Four bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, kitchen, family room, cellar, attic …” John ticked off his list. “You okay?” he asked with a frown, noticing Ianto's rather pallid complexion. Ianto gave a sharp nod, so John continued his gloating. “Probably much better than Jack's place,” he said, leading Ianto into the house and taking his jacket off, tossing it to the side and abandoning it and turning to watch Ianto carefully.
“Jack lived in the Hub … in a small bunk in his office,” Ianto told him.
John sniggered. “You're kidding me? I thought he was just joking when he said that ...” chuckled John, climbing the stairs and showing Ianto to his bedroom. “Your room is the second door on the right,” he pointed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Where am I?” groaned Jack, hardly able to sit up in whatever bed he'd found himself in. He had been mistaken when he had thought his previous hanger had been the worse in the known Universe: this one was ten times more unbearable. His whole body was feeling like lead, weighing him down into the mattress as he tried to heave himself to a sitting position. “I have to stop drinking ...” he self-deprivatingly muttered to himself.
The Doctor could hear Jack talking to thin air from the other room, and strode over to him with a huge grin on his face. “Great to see you up! Almost thought you were going to remain unconscious for Eternity - you've been asleep for about forty-eight hours now,” he said, the words rushing out of his mouth in a mad tumble.
Jack groaned a little louder then necessary. “I couldn't have been sleeping that long ...” He looked around the rom, not really recognising it and frowning in confused. “Where am I?”
The Doctor made an incredulous sound. “You must have had more to drink than I'd thought. You're on the TARDIS, Captain. This is your old room,” he explained, moving to perch on the end of the bed and watching Jack carefully.
“How did I get on the TARDIS?” Jack asked, massaging his temples and willing the pain to go away. “I don't remember.”
The Doctor chuckled quietly. “Well,” he began. “You were in the bar, drinking yourself to death … I came over and led you into the TARDIS where you passed out on your bed.”
Jack groaned again, the mournful sound making his own head hurt more. “I think I'm gonna ...” he started saying, then darted off to the bathroom before the Doctor could say anything. He returned a few minutes later, staggering a bit and laying back down on the bed heavily. “What did you want me for?” he asked, cuddling his pillow and biting back the urge to wail.
The Doctor cleared his throat.
“I want you to go back to Torchwood.”