Fic: Five Cups of Coffee That Ianto Jones Never Got To Drink
Title: Five Cups of Coffee That Ianto Jones Never Got To Drink
Rating: R for naughty language and talk of sexual activities.
Characters/Pairing: Jack, Ianto, Gwen. Jack/Ianto, Ianto/Gwen friendship
Spoilers: Set post Exit Wounds, so spoilers for that.
Disclaimer: Don't own it blah blah.
Note: Written for Day Eleven at redismycolour . For velvetfascism because she's lovely.
Word Count: 1,660
Summary: Urgent matters in the archives; a breakdown; weevil hunting; another breakdown; and sex.
Five Cups of Coffee That Ianto Jones Never Got To Drink
.one
Ianto set his fresh, steaming cup of coffee down on the desk of the tourist information centre. Finally, he was getting some time to himself - Gwen had begged for the afternoon off to go Christmas shopping with Rhys (and a covert weevil hunt, but Rhys didn't have to know about that) and Jack was down in the lower levels somewhere.
Ianto allowed himself to lean back in his chair, eyes closed, absorbing the silence. He could hear the screams of the gulls as they soared above the bay, and the gentle noise of the waves as they lapped at the still boats. It had been so long since he'd had a chance to do this, just sit and enjoy his coffee without interruption.
Beep beep.
“What?” asked Ianto as he put his hand to his earpiece, answering the call reluctantly. If Jack sensed Ianto's snappiness, he didn't show it.
“Ianto!” exclaimed Jack. It always made Ianto smile when Jack said his name with such exuberance, almost like Jack was relieved to hear Ianto's voice on the other end of the line.
“I'm having a little trouble down here,” said Jack, and Ianto could hear the guilt in his voice.
“Where?” asked Ianto, sternly. Jack hesitated for a few moments, obviously trying hard to find the right words. Definitely guilty as hell, thought Ianto with a grin, despite his annoyance.
“Are you in the archives Jack?”
“Maybe.”
Ianto rolled his eyes, there was never a moment's rest in Torchwood. How had the archives even survived so long with hurricane Jack around?
“I'll be right down,” sighed Ianto, glancing mournfully at his cup of coffee.
Three hours later, when Ianto finally returned from the Archives, shirt buttoned up wrong and hair tousled, he vowed that one day he really would get to finish a cup of coffee in this place.
.two
Ianto knew there was something terribly wrong as soon as he set two cups of coffee down on Jack's desk. These days, they were coping so much better but every so often there was another little relapse. They were all bad in their own way, but Jack's were the worst. Ianto and Gwen couldn't even begin to comprehend what he'd been through and it broke them both to see him in such a state. Ianto was closest to understanding though, having been with Jack during some of his worst night terrors. Jack would thrash and gasp for air, often bruising Ianto in the process. But Ianto would gladly take these bruises in his stride if it meant helping Jack - and this fact scared him a little.
Jack's head was resting on the desk, nestling between his folded arms. He wasn't moving. Ianto's heart rate quickened slightly, and he gently rested a hand on Jack's shoulder.
Jack jumped at the touch, he clearly hadn't even realised that anyone else was there. Ianto had suspected for a while that Jack had been grieving and panicking in private, hoping that Ianto wouldn't notice.
The fact that Ianto had caught him in so raw a moment caused Jack's tears to fall once more. The barriers were dropped, and all Ianto could do was sit with Jack until the tears stopped, till Jack's strained breathing returned to normal. Ianto stroked Jack's back as the other man shuddered underneath his palms. There were no words, because they didn't need them.
By the time Jack had finally calmed down, the coffee was cold. But Ianto didn't care about the fucking coffee any more.
.three
“Ianto!” Jack and Gwen yelled as they entered the Hub through the cog door. Ianto sighed at his cup of coffee, which had only just reached perfect drinking temperature. How typical.
Jack hurried up the steps to the sofa, where Ianto protectively held the cup of coffee to his chest. Ianto noticed Gwen heading for the armoury. None of these things bode well for his quiet coffee break. When was the last time he'd been able to finish a cup of coffee anyway? It must've been months ago.
“Weevil sighting,” said Jack, as if this explained everything. “Gotta hurry.” He reached out a hand to take Ianto's coffee from him, and was surprised when Ianto refused to let go.
“Just one cup,” pleaded Ianto, “I just want to finish one cup, is that too much to ask?”
“Duty calls,” grinned Jack. “We've gotta go save the world.”
“From one little weevil in a dingy back alley in Cardiff?” asked Ianto, raising an eyebrow and tightening his hold on the coffee cup.
“You never know,” said Jack, his fingers trying to prise Ianto's from the cup. “They could have some kind of master plan.”
“If they do then they're doing a good job of hiding it,” muttered Ianto.
“Oh, stop whining and come on!” said Jack. “I'll make you coffee later.” He playfully swatted Ianto when the other man snorted in amusement. “Hey! I make a damn good cup of coffee!” he protested with a wink and a smile.
“You keep telling yourself that, sir,” teased Ianto as he finally gave in and released his hold on the cup. He let Jack take his hand to help him up. Jack set Ianto's coffee down on the small table and Ianto looked back, sadly at it as Jack lead him to the invisible lift, where Gwen was already waiting for them, armed and ready to go.
Two hours later, the cold coffee got poured down the sink. Another cup wasted, rued Ianto. Now time for a shower, why did weevil hunting have to be so very dirty?
.four
Ianto didn't hear Gwen at first, busy as he was at the coffee station. He took a brief moment to breathe in the aroma of the fresh coffee and heard sobbing coming from the autopsy bay. Coffee instantly forgotten, Ianto rushed to locate the source of the noise. He found Gwen, sat on the bottom step of the bay, leaning her head against the tiled wall beside her and staring blankly at the spot where Toshiko had died in front of them.
It wasn't an unusual sight, each of the three of them had taken up sobbing on the bottom step at least once since Tosh and Owen had been wrenched from the team. Time may have passed, but the wound was still raw, and Gwen was the most susceptible to it.
Ianto wondered what had triggered it this time; a report signed by Owen lurking in an unexpected place (he used to leave them all over the damn place, recalled Ianto in fond annoyance) or something of Tosh's lurking in the bathroom, a tube of mascara perhaps? But whatever caused it, there was nothing really that Ianto could offer as comfort. Just his presence, which he hoped was enough for them.
He joined Gwen on the bottom step, pressing his body close to hers and draping an arm over her shoulders. Ianto's fingers stroked over the back of her hands, comforting and tender and just what he hoped she needed. He silently held out his handkerchief, which she took with a mumbled thanks and used to wipe her tear streaked cheeks.
He didn't ask her why she was crying, because she needed physical contact, not words. Words sullied the moment somehow, spoiled it - if that were possible. In order for them to do it properly, there had to be silence.
Ianto cupped Gwen's damp chin in his hands and raised his other hand to her cheek, wiping the tears that still ran down her face, seeking an escape from the pain, the loss. Ianto leaned in and brushed his lips over her own, tasting salt there. For a moment, she clung to him, then pulled away to rest her head on his chest. She did this often, obviously needing the reassurance that he was still alive.
He gave her what she needed, coffee be damned.
.five
Ianto finished the coffees with a flourish and a smile, and startled when he felt a warm body press against his back and arms wrap around his stomach.
“What do you want, Jack?” asked Ianto in playful exasperation.
“Hmm,” hummed Jack in his ear. Ianto shuddered at the sensation of Jack's hot breath on the sensitive spot just underneath his ear. Jack always manipulated that little spot to his best ability. Bastard. “I've got a little problem,” continued Jack, hands wandering below Ianto's belt, “and I was wondering if you could help me with it.” At this point, Jack thrust his hips against the other man's back, letting Ianto feel his 'little problem'.
“That's not so little,” shuddered Ianto, leaning back into Jack's touch and closing his eyes in arousal.
“So,” continued Jack, almost whispering in Ianto's ear. Ianto hadn't felt so aroused in a long time. “I've got this idea in my head, and I was wondering if you could help me out with it?”
“Wh- what does this idea involve?” Ianto only just managed to ask. He wished that his voice didn't betray him so easily.
“Well,” said Jack, stroking Ianto's clothed erection with feather-light touches, “it involves you and me.”
“I did guess that,” grinned Ianto, cheekily. Jack responded with a squeeze and this forced the air out of Ianto's lungs.
“It involves you and me. My bunk. You undress me, slowly, teasing me the way you do so well. Then you push me down onto the bed and fuck me as hard as you can. Think you can manage that?”
Ianto seemed to have lost the ability to speak, all he could do was make a noise too much like a whine for his liking. Jack chuckled and Ianto could feel the vibrations in his dick.
“I think I can do that,” Ianto stammered, allowing Jack to pull him away from the kitchen. The coffee still sat, untouched on the counter, but Ianto found it hard to care. Finishing one's coffee was highly overrated anyway.
Rating: R for naughty language and talk of sexual activities.
Characters/Pairing: Jack, Ianto, Gwen. Jack/Ianto, Ianto/Gwen friendship
Spoilers: Set post Exit Wounds, so spoilers for that.
Disclaimer: Don't own it blah blah.
Note: Written for Day Eleven at redismycolour . For velvetfascism because she's lovely.
Word Count: 1,660
Summary: Urgent matters in the archives; a breakdown; weevil hunting; another breakdown; and sex.
Five Cups of Coffee That Ianto Jones Never Got To Drink
.one
Ianto set his fresh, steaming cup of coffee down on the desk of the tourist information centre. Finally, he was getting some time to himself - Gwen had begged for the afternoon off to go Christmas shopping with Rhys (and a covert weevil hunt, but Rhys didn't have to know about that) and Jack was down in the lower levels somewhere.
Ianto allowed himself to lean back in his chair, eyes closed, absorbing the silence. He could hear the screams of the gulls as they soared above the bay, and the gentle noise of the waves as they lapped at the still boats. It had been so long since he'd had a chance to do this, just sit and enjoy his coffee without interruption.
Beep beep.
“What?” asked Ianto as he put his hand to his earpiece, answering the call reluctantly. If Jack sensed Ianto's snappiness, he didn't show it.
“Ianto!” exclaimed Jack. It always made Ianto smile when Jack said his name with such exuberance, almost like Jack was relieved to hear Ianto's voice on the other end of the line.
“I'm having a little trouble down here,” said Jack, and Ianto could hear the guilt in his voice.
“Where?” asked Ianto, sternly. Jack hesitated for a few moments, obviously trying hard to find the right words. Definitely guilty as hell, thought Ianto with a grin, despite his annoyance.
“Are you in the archives Jack?”
“Maybe.”
Ianto rolled his eyes, there was never a moment's rest in Torchwood. How had the archives even survived so long with hurricane Jack around?
“I'll be right down,” sighed Ianto, glancing mournfully at his cup of coffee.
Three hours later, when Ianto finally returned from the Archives, shirt buttoned up wrong and hair tousled, he vowed that one day he really would get to finish a cup of coffee in this place.
.two
Ianto knew there was something terribly wrong as soon as he set two cups of coffee down on Jack's desk. These days, they were coping so much better but every so often there was another little relapse. They were all bad in their own way, but Jack's were the worst. Ianto and Gwen couldn't even begin to comprehend what he'd been through and it broke them both to see him in such a state. Ianto was closest to understanding though, having been with Jack during some of his worst night terrors. Jack would thrash and gasp for air, often bruising Ianto in the process. But Ianto would gladly take these bruises in his stride if it meant helping Jack - and this fact scared him a little.
Jack's head was resting on the desk, nestling between his folded arms. He wasn't moving. Ianto's heart rate quickened slightly, and he gently rested a hand on Jack's shoulder.
Jack jumped at the touch, he clearly hadn't even realised that anyone else was there. Ianto had suspected for a while that Jack had been grieving and panicking in private, hoping that Ianto wouldn't notice.
The fact that Ianto had caught him in so raw a moment caused Jack's tears to fall once more. The barriers were dropped, and all Ianto could do was sit with Jack until the tears stopped, till Jack's strained breathing returned to normal. Ianto stroked Jack's back as the other man shuddered underneath his palms. There were no words, because they didn't need them.
By the time Jack had finally calmed down, the coffee was cold. But Ianto didn't care about the fucking coffee any more.
.three
“Ianto!” Jack and Gwen yelled as they entered the Hub through the cog door. Ianto sighed at his cup of coffee, which had only just reached perfect drinking temperature. How typical.
Jack hurried up the steps to the sofa, where Ianto protectively held the cup of coffee to his chest. Ianto noticed Gwen heading for the armoury. None of these things bode well for his quiet coffee break. When was the last time he'd been able to finish a cup of coffee anyway? It must've been months ago.
“Weevil sighting,” said Jack, as if this explained everything. “Gotta hurry.” He reached out a hand to take Ianto's coffee from him, and was surprised when Ianto refused to let go.
“Just one cup,” pleaded Ianto, “I just want to finish one cup, is that too much to ask?”
“Duty calls,” grinned Jack. “We've gotta go save the world.”
“From one little weevil in a dingy back alley in Cardiff?” asked Ianto, raising an eyebrow and tightening his hold on the coffee cup.
“You never know,” said Jack, his fingers trying to prise Ianto's from the cup. “They could have some kind of master plan.”
“If they do then they're doing a good job of hiding it,” muttered Ianto.
“Oh, stop whining and come on!” said Jack. “I'll make you coffee later.” He playfully swatted Ianto when the other man snorted in amusement. “Hey! I make a damn good cup of coffee!” he protested with a wink and a smile.
“You keep telling yourself that, sir,” teased Ianto as he finally gave in and released his hold on the cup. He let Jack take his hand to help him up. Jack set Ianto's coffee down on the small table and Ianto looked back, sadly at it as Jack lead him to the invisible lift, where Gwen was already waiting for them, armed and ready to go.
Two hours later, the cold coffee got poured down the sink. Another cup wasted, rued Ianto. Now time for a shower, why did weevil hunting have to be so very dirty?
.four
Ianto didn't hear Gwen at first, busy as he was at the coffee station. He took a brief moment to breathe in the aroma of the fresh coffee and heard sobbing coming from the autopsy bay. Coffee instantly forgotten, Ianto rushed to locate the source of the noise. He found Gwen, sat on the bottom step of the bay, leaning her head against the tiled wall beside her and staring blankly at the spot where Toshiko had died in front of them.
It wasn't an unusual sight, each of the three of them had taken up sobbing on the bottom step at least once since Tosh and Owen had been wrenched from the team. Time may have passed, but the wound was still raw, and Gwen was the most susceptible to it.
Ianto wondered what had triggered it this time; a report signed by Owen lurking in an unexpected place (he used to leave them all over the damn place, recalled Ianto in fond annoyance) or something of Tosh's lurking in the bathroom, a tube of mascara perhaps? But whatever caused it, there was nothing really that Ianto could offer as comfort. Just his presence, which he hoped was enough for them.
He joined Gwen on the bottom step, pressing his body close to hers and draping an arm over her shoulders. Ianto's fingers stroked over the back of her hands, comforting and tender and just what he hoped she needed. He silently held out his handkerchief, which she took with a mumbled thanks and used to wipe her tear streaked cheeks.
He didn't ask her why she was crying, because she needed physical contact, not words. Words sullied the moment somehow, spoiled it - if that were possible. In order for them to do it properly, there had to be silence.
Ianto cupped Gwen's damp chin in his hands and raised his other hand to her cheek, wiping the tears that still ran down her face, seeking an escape from the pain, the loss. Ianto leaned in and brushed his lips over her own, tasting salt there. For a moment, she clung to him, then pulled away to rest her head on his chest. She did this often, obviously needing the reassurance that he was still alive.
He gave her what she needed, coffee be damned.
.five
Ianto finished the coffees with a flourish and a smile, and startled when he felt a warm body press against his back and arms wrap around his stomach.
“What do you want, Jack?” asked Ianto in playful exasperation.
“Hmm,” hummed Jack in his ear. Ianto shuddered at the sensation of Jack's hot breath on the sensitive spot just underneath his ear. Jack always manipulated that little spot to his best ability. Bastard. “I've got a little problem,” continued Jack, hands wandering below Ianto's belt, “and I was wondering if you could help me with it.” At this point, Jack thrust his hips against the other man's back, letting Ianto feel his 'little problem'.
“That's not so little,” shuddered Ianto, leaning back into Jack's touch and closing his eyes in arousal.
“So,” continued Jack, almost whispering in Ianto's ear. Ianto hadn't felt so aroused in a long time. “I've got this idea in my head, and I was wondering if you could help me out with it?”
“Wh- what does this idea involve?” Ianto only just managed to ask. He wished that his voice didn't betray him so easily.
“Well,” said Jack, stroking Ianto's clothed erection with feather-light touches, “it involves you and me.”
“I did guess that,” grinned Ianto, cheekily. Jack responded with a squeeze and this forced the air out of Ianto's lungs.
“It involves you and me. My bunk. You undress me, slowly, teasing me the way you do so well. Then you push me down onto the bed and fuck me as hard as you can. Think you can manage that?”
Ianto seemed to have lost the ability to speak, all he could do was make a noise too much like a whine for his liking. Jack chuckled and Ianto could feel the vibrations in his dick.
“I think I can do that,” Ianto stammered, allowing Jack to pull him away from the kitchen. The coffee still sat, untouched on the counter, but Ianto found it hard to care. Finishing one's coffee was highly overrated anyway.