Someone to Watch Over Me - Chapter 1
Title: Someone to Watch Over Me
Pairing(s)/Characters: Jack/Ianto, Tosh/Owen and OCs.
Rating: NC17 (overall)
Warnings: smarm, sap and crack - of the mills & boon type (seriously), m/m pairing
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its associated characters, and events are property of the BBC and Russell T. Davies but shamelessly borrowed for some fun.
A/N 1: I decided to go all Mills & Boon on you. But no swooning allowed.
Summary: Jack Harkness, a close family, and owner of a prestigious security firm is asked to take on the task of protecting Ianto Jones when he starts receiving death threats.
One
*~*
Ianto Jones stared at the man who might be trying to kill him.
He shifted the slats of his window blinds slightly to get a better view of the dark tree-lined street stretched out below him. The orange glow cast by an old fashioned street lamp fought a losing battle with the darkness of the cool April night.
The man sat motionless in the driver’s seat of the black car across the street, his face in shadow.
He’d been there last night, too.
He’d noticed. He made a point of noticing. He’d been taught this as paramount during his self-defense classes, and more than four years as a prosecutor did that to a person. He’d been a lot more naive when he’d been straight out of law school.
A nice respectable law firm should have been the next rung on the ladder. His upper-crust family has certainly expected it of him. His mother, a respected Magistrate who’d just been involved in a high-profile widely publicised case. Her notoriety as a hard, but fair, Magistrate was as well-known as her standing in society circles.
Ianto, however, had surprised them all. He’d gone for the tough prosecutor’s job. And not as prestigious prosecutor in the High Court or Privy Council.
Nope, he’d gone for the down and dirty: putting away the friendly neighbourhood drug dealer or burglar and the stray white-collar criminal away as a prosecutor in the Crown Court. He looked down again at the man in the car. Of course, he’d surprised everyone even more if he wound up dead in his home, with his throat slashed by the mystery guy sending him death threats. He didn’t want to make that his encore.
He held his breath as the man in the car shifted and opened the driver’s side door. As he got out, Ianto strained for a better view but couldn’t make out his features in the dark. What he could tell was that he was tall and solidly built, with sandy-brown hair, maybe, and dark clothes.
He watched as the man scanned the street up and down and then made his way toward the house. Was he heading for Ianto?
His heart began to pound, his breathing increasing. Call the police! The normal part of his mind demanded. Let them handle it.
Surely the neighbours would hear if the mystery guy tried to break in? His exclusive Notting Hill neighbourhood was usually quiet and serene, particularly at this time of night.
The man below passed under a street lamp and his mind pulled the emergency brake on his thoughts.
He knew that face.
Suddenly fear was replaced by anger. Not the simmering variety of anger, either, but full-blown boil. The type that any of his three older siblings would have recognised and dived for cover.
He headed for the staircase of his two up and down that he called home, heedless of the fact that he was dressed for bed in red boxer shorts a robe. When he got downstairs-the back of his mind taking note of the fact that he hadn’t heard a knock or bell-he undid the lock on the front door and yanked the door open without ceremony.
‘Hello Button,’ he said, using the nickname he'd given Ianto as a teenager.
Ianto felt the same rush of energy he always did in this man’s presence, quickly replaced by an undercurrent of pulsing tension.
He had a lithe but muscular physique, one which usually reduced some people to flirtatious banter and longing to tear his clothes off. But not him. They had too much history for that, and he doubted his presence on his doorstep tonight was a coincidence.
He crossed his arms and snapped, ‘Did you take a wrong turn, Jack? The last time I checked, Notting Hill was too exclusive for riff-raff like you.’
Jack had the audacity to look amused, his gaze raking his barley dressed body. ‘And you’re still the perfect little diamond blue-blood, princeling. Just like I remembered.’
‘If you know anything about diamonds, then you will remember they’re the hardest stones around.’
‘Oh, I know plenty about diamonds these days, Button,’ he said, tapping the tip of his nose and then lightly palming the side of Ianto’s face in a sort of friendly slap as he walked inside without invitation, forcing him to take a step back. ‘I’ve discovered they’re the gift of choice for people in your class.’
Ianto yanked his mind from the image of Jack picking out diamonds for his lovers. Probably at some exclusive jeweller, damn the man. He might have grown up tough in a working class neighbourhood, but thanks to the multi-million dollar security business he started, his bank account was well into eight figures these days. He was quite the self-made tycoon.
Ianto slammed the door shut behind him and locked it. ‘Make yourself at home.’ Sarcasm was easier than thinking about him looking in his dark house with no company but him and his turbulent feelings he unerringly evoked in him. ‘I’m sure you’ll tell me in your own good time just what the hell you are doing studying my house in the middle of the night.’
‘What makes you think I was studying anything?’ He peeled off his jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair.
He rubbed his chin, pretending to contemplate that as he followed Jack into the living room and watched him flick on a lamp. ‘Oh, I don’t know…could it be the fact that you’ve been sitting in a car across the street with the engine turned off for the last half-hour?’
He watched as Jack glanced around the living room. Framed photographs were everywhere, including ones with his family and friends and one with him holding Moses, his cat who had died of old age months ago. He felt vulnerable and exposed, his life on display in so many telling snapshots.
He’d moved to this house after selling his studio apartment in the West End last year. His best friend and sister-in-law, Toshiko, who was an interior designer, had helped him decorate in an elegant, yet understated style that suited his personality and that fit well with the older style and history.
Jack turned back to him. ‘Nice place.’ He bent down and gazed at a picture of him in board shorts on a beach in Australia, laughing back into the camera as he ran with fins and goggles in his hands toward the water. ‘You filled out nicely, Button, once you finally got through puberty.’
He gritted his teeth. Despite the fact that Jack Harkness had practically become a member of the family since rooming with his older brother Owen at Oxford, he’d never felt comfortable around him. And he’d certainly never thought of him as a brother. Impatiently, he asked, ‘Why are you here? And more importantly, why were you lurking outside my house so late on a Thursday night?’
Jack straightened and shoved his hands in his pockets, his jaw hardening. ‘Did I scare you? Did you think I was that piece of scum who’s been sending you those nasty little love notes?’
‘No!’ He realised a second too late that the vehement denial sounded exactly like the bald-face lire it was, but Jack’s mere presence set him on edge. He supposed one of his brothers or sister-probably Owen-had mentioned to Jack the threats he’d been getting.
Jack quirked an eyebrow, his tension easing a fraction. ‘What? Never thought you’d be glad to see me instead?’ His lips twisted in dry amusement.
‘Get real.’ In fact, he had been relieved it was Jack in the split second before the anger had stepped in. ‘And you’re evading the question. What are you doing here?’
Jack walked over and leaned against the back of the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, feet crossed. ‘Just doing my job.’
‘Just…’ He stopped as an unwelcome thought intruded and his eyes narrowed.
Jack cocked his head. ‘You were always a quick study. Though, I have to confess, it is fascinating to watch those wheels turning in that devious little head of yours. By the way, love the outfit, red is definitely your colour. Suits that hot little temper of yours.’
‘Get out!’
He watched Jack’s eyes narrow and his lips set in a firm line. ‘Now is that any way to treat the guy who’s here to protect you?’
Ianto strode into the rook and whirled back toward Jack once he’d got to the fireplace. He couldn’t believe this was happening. ‘I don’t know which member of my family hired you, Harkness…’ he said, crossing his arms, ‘…and frankly, I don’t care. You may own the best security firm in the country, but you’re not wanted or needed here, got it?’
Pushing away from the couch, Jack mirrored Ianto’s stance, looking resolute. ‘Based on what I’ve been told, I’d say I’m definitely needed here. As to whether I’m wanted…’ he shrugged, ‘…I’ve been asked to do a job and it’s going to get done.’
Want. His mind zeroed in on that one word, then quickly backed away. Whatever, he’d felt for Jack, that certainly wasn’t an apt description.
True, with blue-grey eyes framed by long, thick lashes and sandy hair cut conservatively short, Jack was gorgeous, like a movie-star or model. But in his mind that was all overshadowed by the fact that he was patronising and infuriating. Not to mention an untrustworthy prick.
He hadn’t seen Jack since his brother Owen’s wedding a few months back, but though their paths hadn’t crossed much lately, he was familiar to him as a member of his family. Jack, on the other hand, hadn’t really had much family to speak of, having lost both his parents by the time he’d got into Oxford. Instead, he’d spent most school holidays with the Jones family.
Ianto placed his hands n his hips. ‘There’s no way you can do this job if I’m telling you that you can’t.’
Jack rubbed his chin, seeming to contemplate that for an instant. ‘Since Owen still owns this place…’ he nodded around him, ‘…because you haven’t gotten around to closing the deal with him yet to purchase it, I’d say you’re wrong about that. So, first thing we’re going to do is make sure the security at the bachelor pad is up to scratch.’
Chapter 1 cont'd