Love the Coat: Poker Face (2/5)
Title: Poker Face (2/?)
Author: sanginmychains
Rating: R for language and references to sex
Disclaimer: I'm exercising my right as a participant in my own culture to tell my own stories with someone else's characters. If I begin to make money writing slash with the BBC's intellectual property, I promise to give them a cut.
Summary: This is a follow up to "Love the Coat", originally posted for Kinkfest. After the events of part 1, Ianto goes to work and keeps a straight face. It bugs Jack.
Notes: This is a work in progress, but I have the next part almost entirely written, so it should come soon. Many thanks to invisible_lift for beta services rendered.
*****
Sitting at his desk, Jack watched via CCTV as Ianto arrived at Torchwood Three the next morning, precisely five minutes early. His clothes were pressed and neat, and if he felt any first-day jitters, his face didn't show it.
Jack had a scheduled phone call with a bureaucrat first thing, so he dispatched Suzie to greet the new employee and do his orientation. Jack continued to watch as Ianto learned the names of his coworkers, the layout of the Hub, and the duties he would be expected to perform.
Jack came face to face with Ianto twice on the first morning. The first time was when he was touring the Hub, and Suzie waved her hands at Jack sitting at this desk.
"Of course you already know Captain Jack."
Ianto nodded politely. "Yes. Good morning, Sir."
"I'm just about to take Ianto down to get acquainted with the coffee maker. How do you want your coffee, Jack?"
Never one to pass up an opportunity for bald innuendo, or an opportunity to watch someone's reactions in a potentially difficult situation, Jack looked directly at Ianto and smiled.
"Oh I take it all kinds of ways."
Ianto met Jack's eyes, but didn't twitch so much as a facial muscle.
Poker face. This one could be a good liaison with the public.
"Jack, honestly, don't frighten the fresh meat on the first day. Ianto -- pay him no mind."
"Of course."
The second time was when he headed down to the Archives on his first hunt for a file Tosh needed. He wanted to see whether there was going to be a problem from the other night, any sort of awkwardness, and he wanted to find that out when they were alone, not in front of the team.
He also wanted to pin Ianto up against the filing cabinets, but this probably wasn't the time.
He found Ianto sifting through a drawer marked HAU-HIL. He looked up as Jack approached, and went back to his sifting.
"Settling in okay?"
"Yes, Sir, thank you."
Jack stepped closer. "You know, you don't actually have to call me 'Sir.'"
Ianto continued sifting. "I prefer the formality. I find it clarifies one's role."
"Are you playing a role?"
Ianto pulled out a file, and held it loosely in front of him. He turned to Jack and quirked an eyebrow.
"Aren't we all?"
Jack didn't answer, but he held Ianto's eyes. Ianto looked levelly back.
Discreet, playing games, or actually pretending it never happened?
"Well. I'll see you later then."
Jack walked off, and Ianto returned to the files.
***
The first couple of weeks passed uneventfully -- as uneventfully as they ever did at Torchwood, at least. Cardiff was near to destruction no more than twice; the Hub, three times. Owen dissected aliens (or parts thereof); suzie and Tosh sifted through various records to identify and disarm alarming devices. Jack harassed his superiors for more funding and less interference. Ianto, meanwhile, learned everyone's beverage preferences. He learned the filing system. He made himself useful, and largely invisible. Except to Jack
Jack could see Ianto everywhere he went. He watched Ianto walk, bend, and lift. Watched him carry things, sort things, balance things.
For most of the week, he had been watching Ianto's face. Usually his face was professional -- reasonably friendly and attentive but not otherwise much of anything. Nothing inviting. Nothing interesting. The rest of the time, though, it went through a world of variations, so small it took constant observation to see them, but Jack saw, and catalogued them all.
It was softer when he thought he wasn't being watched. Softer, and sadder. It was very slightly tenser every time he talked to Owen. It was a tiny bit wary when Suzie asked him a question -- any question. When he was listening to a conversation but not participating, little glints of humour and mischief flickered about.
When Ianto looked at Jack, his expression was blank. A complete and impenetrable blank.
That was interesting.
One day, right after Owen had teased him about something -- something crude about not being able to get a girlfriend, about maybe waiting for Torchwood to develop a robotic woman so he could get laid, Ianto stormed off and stood just inside the kitchen. He was facing a CCTV camera, and while Jack watched, Ianto's face twisted into a wild expression of dark, dark grief and desperation. He bolted out of the kitchen, down a hall, down some stairs, and into the Gents'. Where he slapped and pounded on a wall until his hands must have ached with it, and then crouched down and sobbed like an animal.
Oh fuck. Okay, must have a little talk with Owen about what it's like to watch a Cyberman conversion on one's friends and coworkers.
Jack knew he was seriously violating Ianto's privacy -- and in a place as small as Torchwood Three, privacy was something that ought to be respected by all -- but he was transfixed. Cool, unflappable Ianto -- out of control.
After a few minutes, Ianto visibly pulled all his spilled pieces together, ruthlessly. He washed his face with cold water and angry hands, waited a few minutes, smoothed his lapels. He walked out of the room, and went on with his day.
When he brought Jack a coffee half an hour later, his eyes looked a bit red, if you knew to look.
"Ianto?"
"Sir?"
"Are you alright?"
Ianto startled, just the tiniest bit. If you knew to look.
"Fine, Sir. And yourself?"
"You just seem a bit -- off. Your eyes are a little red. Sleeping okay?"
"I think I might be coming down with a cold. My sinuses have been bothering me."
For the rest of the day, Ianto rubbed his forehead and sniffled at regular intervals.
Well, he does commit to a role. I'll give him that.
***
The next day was so beautifully uneventful that Jack had been able to do mostly nothing but watch Ianto. Everywhere Ianto went, everything he did, Jack pictured him naked. He hadn't actually seen him naked, and that was bothersome, too. It was an odd circumstance, given that Jack knew what it felt like to be fucked by Ianto, knew what he sounded like when he came. So to combat the oddness, he pictured him naked all the time. It didn't really help the obsession; it almost certainly made it worse. But Jack couldn't seem to stop. It didn't help that Ianto seemed always to be within view.
It really didn't help that Ianto stood so close sometimes. So close, and still with that completely blank look.
At noon, Jack pressed against him briefly to grab a paper off the desk Ianto was leaning on. Jack saw his eyes widen, and heard the tiniest, most inaudible little intake of breath. And as Jack walked away, he swore that he saw Ianto adjust himself.
Bit of a puzzle, this one. No reaction for weeks, then this?
By afternoon, Jack wasn't actually having fun anymore -- the tension between what he imagined Ianto doing to his body, and what he was actually doing (nothing -- and not even in view anymore -- where was he?) had him taut like a rubber band stretched way past its limit. By evening, Jack was restless like a cat on a springtime night. He sat at his desk to work, but got up again three minutes later. He walked to the kitchen to get a drink, but left it half-finished. He went back to his office and looked for something in his file cabinet, but didn't open the file after he placed it on his desk.
Finally, around 9, he put on his coat and headed down the stairs.
Ianto appeared from a hallway and flicked his eyes up and down Jack's body. He said nothing, but looked expectant.
"Ianto, hi. I'm going out for a bit. I'll be back -- later."
He started towards the cog door and raised his hand to activate the exit key.
"Going for a steam?"
Jack's hand stopped in mid-air.
"I was thinking about it."
"We have showers here."
Ianto still looked as though he were talking about as mild a subject as teapots or government paperwork, but there was a shade of something more behind his eyes.
Jack lowered his hand, turned to fully face Ianto, and issued a challenge.
"I was hoping for company."
Ianto raised his eyebrows slightly and gave a single curt nod. How he managed to hint at a hundred erotic acts in that small a gesture, Jack couldn't understand. For the first time since he started working there, Ianto had something in his face that Jack had been looking for all this time.
Sex.
"Go warm the shower up then, will you? You seem to know where they are."
Ianto reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a stopwatch with a playful flourish. He held Jack's eyes and depressed the button on the top.
"That's five minutes...and counting."
Playful is new.
Click here for Part 3/5: A Touch Monstrous
Author: sanginmychains
Rating: R for language and references to sex
Disclaimer: I'm exercising my right as a participant in my own culture to tell my own stories with someone else's characters. If I begin to make money writing slash with the BBC's intellectual property, I promise to give them a cut.
Summary: This is a follow up to "Love the Coat", originally posted for Kinkfest. After the events of part 1, Ianto goes to work and keeps a straight face. It bugs Jack.
Notes: This is a work in progress, but I have the next part almost entirely written, so it should come soon. Many thanks to invisible_lift for beta services rendered.
*****
Sitting at his desk, Jack watched via CCTV as Ianto arrived at Torchwood Three the next morning, precisely five minutes early. His clothes were pressed and neat, and if he felt any first-day jitters, his face didn't show it.
Jack had a scheduled phone call with a bureaucrat first thing, so he dispatched Suzie to greet the new employee and do his orientation. Jack continued to watch as Ianto learned the names of his coworkers, the layout of the Hub, and the duties he would be expected to perform.
Jack came face to face with Ianto twice on the first morning. The first time was when he was touring the Hub, and Suzie waved her hands at Jack sitting at this desk.
"Of course you already know Captain Jack."
Ianto nodded politely. "Yes. Good morning, Sir."
"I'm just about to take Ianto down to get acquainted with the coffee maker. How do you want your coffee, Jack?"
Never one to pass up an opportunity for bald innuendo, or an opportunity to watch someone's reactions in a potentially difficult situation, Jack looked directly at Ianto and smiled.
"Oh I take it all kinds of ways."
Ianto met Jack's eyes, but didn't twitch so much as a facial muscle.
Poker face. This one could be a good liaison with the public.
"Jack, honestly, don't frighten the fresh meat on the first day. Ianto -- pay him no mind."
"Of course."
The second time was when he headed down to the Archives on his first hunt for a file Tosh needed. He wanted to see whether there was going to be a problem from the other night, any sort of awkwardness, and he wanted to find that out when they were alone, not in front of the team.
He also wanted to pin Ianto up against the filing cabinets, but this probably wasn't the time.
He found Ianto sifting through a drawer marked HAU-HIL. He looked up as Jack approached, and went back to his sifting.
"Settling in okay?"
"Yes, Sir, thank you."
Jack stepped closer. "You know, you don't actually have to call me 'Sir.'"
Ianto continued sifting. "I prefer the formality. I find it clarifies one's role."
"Are you playing a role?"
Ianto pulled out a file, and held it loosely in front of him. He turned to Jack and quirked an eyebrow.
"Aren't we all?"
Jack didn't answer, but he held Ianto's eyes. Ianto looked levelly back.
Discreet, playing games, or actually pretending it never happened?
"Well. I'll see you later then."
Jack walked off, and Ianto returned to the files.
***
The first couple of weeks passed uneventfully -- as uneventfully as they ever did at Torchwood, at least. Cardiff was near to destruction no more than twice; the Hub, three times. Owen dissected aliens (or parts thereof); suzie and Tosh sifted through various records to identify and disarm alarming devices. Jack harassed his superiors for more funding and less interference. Ianto, meanwhile, learned everyone's beverage preferences. He learned the filing system. He made himself useful, and largely invisible. Except to Jack
Jack could see Ianto everywhere he went. He watched Ianto walk, bend, and lift. Watched him carry things, sort things, balance things.
For most of the week, he had been watching Ianto's face. Usually his face was professional -- reasonably friendly and attentive but not otherwise much of anything. Nothing inviting. Nothing interesting. The rest of the time, though, it went through a world of variations, so small it took constant observation to see them, but Jack saw, and catalogued them all.
It was softer when he thought he wasn't being watched. Softer, and sadder. It was very slightly tenser every time he talked to Owen. It was a tiny bit wary when Suzie asked him a question -- any question. When he was listening to a conversation but not participating, little glints of humour and mischief flickered about.
When Ianto looked at Jack, his expression was blank. A complete and impenetrable blank.
That was interesting.
One day, right after Owen had teased him about something -- something crude about not being able to get a girlfriend, about maybe waiting for Torchwood to develop a robotic woman so he could get laid, Ianto stormed off and stood just inside the kitchen. He was facing a CCTV camera, and while Jack watched, Ianto's face twisted into a wild expression of dark, dark grief and desperation. He bolted out of the kitchen, down a hall, down some stairs, and into the Gents'. Where he slapped and pounded on a wall until his hands must have ached with it, and then crouched down and sobbed like an animal.
Oh fuck. Okay, must have a little talk with Owen about what it's like to watch a Cyberman conversion on one's friends and coworkers.
Jack knew he was seriously violating Ianto's privacy -- and in a place as small as Torchwood Three, privacy was something that ought to be respected by all -- but he was transfixed. Cool, unflappable Ianto -- out of control.
After a few minutes, Ianto visibly pulled all his spilled pieces together, ruthlessly. He washed his face with cold water and angry hands, waited a few minutes, smoothed his lapels. He walked out of the room, and went on with his day.
When he brought Jack a coffee half an hour later, his eyes looked a bit red, if you knew to look.
"Ianto?"
"Sir?"
"Are you alright?"
Ianto startled, just the tiniest bit. If you knew to look.
"Fine, Sir. And yourself?"
"You just seem a bit -- off. Your eyes are a little red. Sleeping okay?"
"I think I might be coming down with a cold. My sinuses have been bothering me."
For the rest of the day, Ianto rubbed his forehead and sniffled at regular intervals.
Well, he does commit to a role. I'll give him that.
***
The next day was so beautifully uneventful that Jack had been able to do mostly nothing but watch Ianto. Everywhere Ianto went, everything he did, Jack pictured him naked. He hadn't actually seen him naked, and that was bothersome, too. It was an odd circumstance, given that Jack knew what it felt like to be fucked by Ianto, knew what he sounded like when he came. So to combat the oddness, he pictured him naked all the time. It didn't really help the obsession; it almost certainly made it worse. But Jack couldn't seem to stop. It didn't help that Ianto seemed always to be within view.
It really didn't help that Ianto stood so close sometimes. So close, and still with that completely blank look.
At noon, Jack pressed against him briefly to grab a paper off the desk Ianto was leaning on. Jack saw his eyes widen, and heard the tiniest, most inaudible little intake of breath. And as Jack walked away, he swore that he saw Ianto adjust himself.
Bit of a puzzle, this one. No reaction for weeks, then this?
By afternoon, Jack wasn't actually having fun anymore -- the tension between what he imagined Ianto doing to his body, and what he was actually doing (nothing -- and not even in view anymore -- where was he?) had him taut like a rubber band stretched way past its limit. By evening, Jack was restless like a cat on a springtime night. He sat at his desk to work, but got up again three minutes later. He walked to the kitchen to get a drink, but left it half-finished. He went back to his office and looked for something in his file cabinet, but didn't open the file after he placed it on his desk.
Finally, around 9, he put on his coat and headed down the stairs.
Ianto appeared from a hallway and flicked his eyes up and down Jack's body. He said nothing, but looked expectant.
"Ianto, hi. I'm going out for a bit. I'll be back -- later."
He started towards the cog door and raised his hand to activate the exit key.
"Going for a steam?"
Jack's hand stopped in mid-air.
"I was thinking about it."
"We have showers here."
Ianto still looked as though he were talking about as mild a subject as teapots or government paperwork, but there was a shade of something more behind his eyes.
Jack lowered his hand, turned to fully face Ianto, and issued a challenge.
"I was hoping for company."
Ianto raised his eyebrows slightly and gave a single curt nod. How he managed to hint at a hundred erotic acts in that small a gesture, Jack couldn't understand. For the first time since he started working there, Ianto had something in his face that Jack had been looking for all this time.
Sex.
"Go warm the shower up then, will you? You seem to know where they are."
Ianto reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a stopwatch with a playful flourish. He held Jack's eyes and depressed the button on the top.
"That's five minutes...and counting."
Playful is new.
Click here for Part 3/5: A Touch Monstrous