Five times Jack's coat played away and one time it stayed true [fic]
Title: Five times Jack's coat played away and one time it stayed true.
Author: shadowbyrd
Rating: PG - 13
Prompt: 15. Blue for fanfic100
Word Count: 2219
Pairing(s): Jack/Coat, Rhys/Coat, Ianto/Coat, John/Coat, Tosh/Coat
Warning(s): Crack! and Jack being over dramatic.
Summary: Er, pretty much the title. Sorry - I wasn't feeling terribly imaginative.
i.
The next morning Gwen woke up on the sofa, feeling like her head had been run over with a combine harvester. She struggled into a sitting position and tried opening her eyes. She quickly shut them again, cradling her head.
“Rhys, what the bloody hell did you open the curtains for?” she shouted, wincing and pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes to stop the ringing in her head.
“Wha -?” Rhys called helpfully.
“I think that was me.” said a muffled voice, somewhere below her. Risking opening her eyes again, Gwen saw Owen sprawled out on a duvet, spread roughly across the floor and half under the coffee table.
Gwen screwed her eyes shut again. There was a worrying smell in the air. The last time she’d smelt that she and Rhys had spent half an hour trying to reach the vomit and a further hour trying to get it off the back of the sofa and the radiator.
“Fine. Owen, what the bloody hell did you open the curtains for?”
“You wha?”
“It’s alright, Rhys, I’m talking to Owen.” Gwen called, massaging her temples.
“Can’t remember.” Owen mumbled around a mouthful of duvet. “Think I was drunk.”
“Think? You think?” Gwen curled up on the sofa, memories of last night parading garishly before her eyes. “We had to handcuff you to one of the chairs to stop you swinging off the light fitting.”
Owen finally dragged himself up onto his elbows. He held up one wrist. “I don’t remember that.”
“That’s because you. Were. Pissed.” said Gwen. “Shit, I’m never letting Jack bring alien alcohol to a party ever again. I don’t even want to think what’s happened to Tosh and Ianto.”
Owen was still staring at his wrists. “They took the handcuffs.” he said, sounding vaguely hurt. “Why couldn’t they have taken me as well?”
Gwen ignored him, rummaging down the cracks of the sofa for her mobile. “Did you see Jack go?”
“He put the duvet down.” said Owen, who had now hauled himself into a hunch. “They actually took the time to take the handcuffs off me. It’s like they didn’t want me there.”
“Yes!” Gwen muttered, unearthing her phone and going through the messages.
“Bastards!” said Owen. He turned to Gwen. “Have you got any aspirin?”
A frail cardboard box hit Owen on the side of the head.
“Good morning, boys and girls! And how are we this morning?”
“What the fuck was - ggaaaaarrggghhhhh!” Owen’s head whipped around, his screwed shut. “Take it away, take it away! For the love of God, take it away!”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “Rhys, please put some pyjamas on.”
“Anything, just get it away.” Owen howled.
“Ingrate.” Rhys huffed, moving away from the door. “Make sure you only take two of those each - I don’t care how much agony you’re in, I’m not spending my Sunday morning running people to the hospital to get their stomachs pumped, thank you.”
“I’ve got a voicemail from Jack.” Gwen told Owen, who was swallowing the pills dry. “He says it was a Weevil.”
“He get it?” asked Owen, tossing her the box.
Gwen caught it one-handed, fumbling it into her lap. “Yeah, stopped at the Hub to check in, but it all looks good. He’s left some stuff here, so he’s dropping around for a few minutes.”
“Good, he can give me a lift.” Owen said “Pay me back for getting me hammered in the first place.”
The front door bell rang.
“That was quick.” Owen muttered.
“I’ll get it!” Rhys yelled.
“Put something on first!” Gwen yelled back, swinging her feet down onto the floor.
Rhys appeared a moment later, donning Jack’s greatcoat. Gwen tried to get her feet. “Rhys - no!”
He ignored her and opened the door. There was silence. Gwen and Owen held their breath. And then -
“What the hell is this?” Jack yelled. “I leave you alone for a night - one night and you’re all over some random man!”
“Look if you want it back then -” Rhys began.
“No! You keep it for the time being. I don’t want to interrupt your time together.” Jack whirled around and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. All of which was a lot less impressive when he wasn’t wearing his coat.
Rhys stared after him and turned to Gwen and Owen with a questioning look.
“Don’t pay any attention to him.” said Gwen with a watery smile “He’s just…”
“Gay.” said Owen, raising himself up onto his elbows. “And he’s at a point in his life where is clothes are like his family.”
Rhys looked down at the coat. “I’ll go find some pyjamas.”
ii.
In recent months, the team had been trying to wean Jack off the greatcoat. He had been wary at first, questioning there motives. They had told him it was to try and maintain a low profile. As Owen had so eloquently put it; "we're a secret organisation, fighting against alien invasion, without the public knowing. We're supposed to be sodding inconspicuous!"
They had clubbed together and bought him a long black trench coat "to help ease the transition” Gwen had said. Jack went along with it for the time being, though nothing any of them said or did could do anything to quell his suspicions. Not even the idea of a bulky, battered leather jacket. Something was going on here.
He had originally figured either Gwen or Owen as the ringleader behind this little scheme. However, when Ianto began bringing him the trench instead of his greatcoat, he began to suspect him of being the puppet master.
Stepping into the Hub it became very apparent that Ianto hadn't been expecting Jack back quite so early.
He stopped dead, the colour draining from his face.
It had been bad enough that time that he had found Ianto brandishing a gun grunting “make my day, punk”.
But this…this was a kick in the guts. And the groin.
Ianto was pacing in an uncharacteristically restless manner. Wearing Jack’s coat.
For a few moments, Jack watched him. Then, finally, he cleared his throat loudly.
Ianto froze.
Jack folded his arms and approached, trying to contain his anger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Ianto swallowed. “Listen - Jack, I can explain…”
Jack wasn’t listening. He grabbed his coat by the collar and ripped the coat from Ianto’s back.
“I can’t believe this - of either you!” he cried, shaking his coat violently, as though trying to shake off a layer of dust.
“Jack, please -” Ianto babbled “I’m sorry, I just -!”
“No. It’s not all your fault.” Jack turned to glare accusingly at his coat. “Ianto’s young. Easily led astray.” He wrung the collar between his fingers. “And you - you took advantage of that, didn’t you? I can’t believe that you would do such a thing!”
Ianto licked his lips, edging back. “I think I should go…”
Jack lowered his coat and took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, I think that would be for the best.”
iii.
Some nights Jack took Estelle out to the countryside, so she could see the stars. They were cold clear nights, and Estelle only had her little white shawl that her beloved grandmother had knitted her.
He took his coat and draped it over her shoulders like a gentlemen. She adored the coat; twirling around in it like a little girl in a long dress and laughing. Sometimes, when they were getting the train back, he’d wrap her up in it and hold her while she fell asleep.
Watching her walking through the moonlight, his coat hugging her shoulders, Jack’s heart ached. Really, it would be better for both of them if he left them to find comfort in each other.
iv.
It had been one thing when he had found Gray, and told Jack only as a parting shot when he told John to leave and stay gone in no uncertain terms.
It had been another when he had kidnapped Ianto and held him hostage.
It had been yet another when he helped Gray wreak havoc upon Cardiff (even under duress).
It had really been another when he’d taken a pot shot at the Doctor.
But this - this was beyond the pale, even for John.
“John,” Jack began, breathing heavily “Put it down. Please.”
“And why would I want to do that?” John drawled “When here, I have your undivided attention.”
He’d always been the jealous type. Dangerous to be close to in some respects. But this - this! It was too far.
“John, if you don’t put it down - if I find some much as a button loose on that - I won’t be held responsible for actions. It’s gonna be just like the old days.” he growled, clicking the safety off.
“Now, why would I mistreat it?” asked John, leaning back and caressing the front of the coat.
“Get your filthy hands off it!” Jack hissed.
John smirked and began smoothing the fabric with his other hand. “I think it likes my hands on it. My filthy hands…”
“Shut up.”
“It wants it.” said John, spreading his hands. “It loves it - it came to me of its own accord.”
“You’re lying!” Jack yelled, hands shaking.”
John laughed. Not his put on, sardonic way, but genuine joy. And that was when Jack knew. He was telling him the truth.
“No.” he said. His was vision blurring.
“How does it feel?” John crowed “How does it feel to be passed over for once in your life? Passed over for me?”
“You can’t do this to me!” Jack howled “Not after all we’ve been through. All the good times that we’ve shared, don’t they mean anything to you?”
“Well -” John began.
“I wasn’t talking to you!” Jack snapped.
John regarded him coldly and straightened. “Well, if that’s how you feel…perhaps we should go elsewhere.” He opened the tab on his wrist strap and tapped a few buttons.
“What are you doing?” Jack demanded.
“It’s all for the best.” John said, folding his arms, too big sleeves wrinkling at the elbows. Gold Rift energy rippled around him, the coat billowing around him in joy. “If you really loved either of us then you’d want us to be happy.”
“No!” Jack screamed. He threw caution to the wind and made a run for it as though to tackle John.
He was thrown back by the wave of energy. Jack got up on his hands and knees in time to see his beloved (and John) disappear from sight.
Gone. Forever. He was alone now, truly alone.
Jack threw his head back and screamed in grief and agony.
v.
He swallowed, for a moment unable to speak. It was a scene he’d stumbled across more than once (quite a few times, actually - not that he’d admit that to anyone; he had a reputation to maintain), but not like this. Never like this.
Toshiko was curled up on the old sofa by the coffee table, his coat - hiscoat - draped over her.
He approached slowly - quietly, so as not to wake them. His coat. His beloved, beautiful coat…how it could it have betrayed him after all these years? And Toshiko - Toshiko was a friend! She knew what it was like to see someone you loved in the arms of another person - how could she?
Toshiko rolled over, eyeing blinking open and smiled upon seeing him. “Hey. Have we found anything?” she asked, sitting up, cool as you please.
Jack didn’t say anything - couldn’t say anything. The sheer audacity!
“Jack? Is something wrong?”
“ - coat.” Jack choked out.
“Oh, yeah, sorry about that.” said Toshiko sheepishly. She got to her feet, bunching up his coat - his beloved coat - into a ball. “I just got a bit cold and - well, here it is, anyway.” she said, pushing it at him. “I best go see if the computer’s come up with anything.”
She trotted off to check up with her precious computers, and Jack was left cradling the greatcoat in his hands.
He swallowed. “I’ve done some terrible things in my time. But this -” he closed his eyes and swallowed. When opened them they were hard with resolve. He let go of the coat and watched it drop to the stone floor. “I am not going to be your sloppy seconds!”
He turned on his heel and strode away, leaving the coat in a miserable puddle of creases and loose threads.
i.
It was a cold, bitter night outside. Jack had had to stand outside in the slowly thickening rain for the past two hours and now, he was back at the Hub was only to happy to get out of his heavy wet clothes. He draped his shirt over the radiator, carefully hung his trousers up on the wardrobe door.
He towelled down and thought about changing into clean underwear, but, looking at little gas fire grate and his soaked coat he had an idea.
He turned the knob until there was warm yellow fire roaring and spread out his blankets and pillows out on the floor in front of it. He settled down and drew the blankets and his coat over himself.
“Nothing like a romantic night in, eh?” he asked, stroking the damp fabric fondly. One of the sleeves slipped around his neck and Jack sighed happily.
Author: shadowbyrd
Rating: PG - 13
Prompt: 15. Blue for fanfic100
Word Count: 2219
Pairing(s): Jack/Coat, Rhys/Coat, Ianto/Coat, John/Coat, Tosh/Coat
Warning(s): Crack! and Jack being over dramatic.
Summary: Er, pretty much the title. Sorry - I wasn't feeling terribly imaginative.
i.
The next morning Gwen woke up on the sofa, feeling like her head had been run over with a combine harvester. She struggled into a sitting position and tried opening her eyes. She quickly shut them again, cradling her head.
“Rhys, what the bloody hell did you open the curtains for?” she shouted, wincing and pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes to stop the ringing in her head.
“Wha -?” Rhys called helpfully.
“I think that was me.” said a muffled voice, somewhere below her. Risking opening her eyes again, Gwen saw Owen sprawled out on a duvet, spread roughly across the floor and half under the coffee table.
Gwen screwed her eyes shut again. There was a worrying smell in the air. The last time she’d smelt that she and Rhys had spent half an hour trying to reach the vomit and a further hour trying to get it off the back of the sofa and the radiator.
“Fine. Owen, what the bloody hell did you open the curtains for?”
“You wha?”
“It’s alright, Rhys, I’m talking to Owen.” Gwen called, massaging her temples.
“Can’t remember.” Owen mumbled around a mouthful of duvet. “Think I was drunk.”
“Think? You think?” Gwen curled up on the sofa, memories of last night parading garishly before her eyes. “We had to handcuff you to one of the chairs to stop you swinging off the light fitting.”
Owen finally dragged himself up onto his elbows. He held up one wrist. “I don’t remember that.”
“That’s because you. Were. Pissed.” said Gwen. “Shit, I’m never letting Jack bring alien alcohol to a party ever again. I don’t even want to think what’s happened to Tosh and Ianto.”
Owen was still staring at his wrists. “They took the handcuffs.” he said, sounding vaguely hurt. “Why couldn’t they have taken me as well?”
Gwen ignored him, rummaging down the cracks of the sofa for her mobile. “Did you see Jack go?”
“He put the duvet down.” said Owen, who had now hauled himself into a hunch. “They actually took the time to take the handcuffs off me. It’s like they didn’t want me there.”
“Yes!” Gwen muttered, unearthing her phone and going through the messages.
“Bastards!” said Owen. He turned to Gwen. “Have you got any aspirin?”
A frail cardboard box hit Owen on the side of the head.
“Good morning, boys and girls! And how are we this morning?”
“What the fuck was - ggaaaaarrggghhhhh!” Owen’s head whipped around, his screwed shut. “Take it away, take it away! For the love of God, take it away!”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “Rhys, please put some pyjamas on.”
“Anything, just get it away.” Owen howled.
“Ingrate.” Rhys huffed, moving away from the door. “Make sure you only take two of those each - I don’t care how much agony you’re in, I’m not spending my Sunday morning running people to the hospital to get their stomachs pumped, thank you.”
“I’ve got a voicemail from Jack.” Gwen told Owen, who was swallowing the pills dry. “He says it was a Weevil.”
“He get it?” asked Owen, tossing her the box.
Gwen caught it one-handed, fumbling it into her lap. “Yeah, stopped at the Hub to check in, but it all looks good. He’s left some stuff here, so he’s dropping around for a few minutes.”
“Good, he can give me a lift.” Owen said “Pay me back for getting me hammered in the first place.”
The front door bell rang.
“That was quick.” Owen muttered.
“I’ll get it!” Rhys yelled.
“Put something on first!” Gwen yelled back, swinging her feet down onto the floor.
Rhys appeared a moment later, donning Jack’s greatcoat. Gwen tried to get her feet. “Rhys - no!”
He ignored her and opened the door. There was silence. Gwen and Owen held their breath. And then -
“What the hell is this?” Jack yelled. “I leave you alone for a night - one night and you’re all over some random man!”
“Look if you want it back then -” Rhys began.
“No! You keep it for the time being. I don’t want to interrupt your time together.” Jack whirled around and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. All of which was a lot less impressive when he wasn’t wearing his coat.
Rhys stared after him and turned to Gwen and Owen with a questioning look.
“Don’t pay any attention to him.” said Gwen with a watery smile “He’s just…”
“Gay.” said Owen, raising himself up onto his elbows. “And he’s at a point in his life where is clothes are like his family.”
Rhys looked down at the coat. “I’ll go find some pyjamas.”
ii.
In recent months, the team had been trying to wean Jack off the greatcoat. He had been wary at first, questioning there motives. They had told him it was to try and maintain a low profile. As Owen had so eloquently put it; "we're a secret organisation, fighting against alien invasion, without the public knowing. We're supposed to be sodding inconspicuous!"
They had clubbed together and bought him a long black trench coat "to help ease the transition” Gwen had said. Jack went along with it for the time being, though nothing any of them said or did could do anything to quell his suspicions. Not even the idea of a bulky, battered leather jacket. Something was going on here.
He had originally figured either Gwen or Owen as the ringleader behind this little scheme. However, when Ianto began bringing him the trench instead of his greatcoat, he began to suspect him of being the puppet master.
Stepping into the Hub it became very apparent that Ianto hadn't been expecting Jack back quite so early.
He stopped dead, the colour draining from his face.
It had been bad enough that time that he had found Ianto brandishing a gun grunting “make my day, punk”.
But this…this was a kick in the guts. And the groin.
Ianto was pacing in an uncharacteristically restless manner. Wearing Jack’s coat.
For a few moments, Jack watched him. Then, finally, he cleared his throat loudly.
Ianto froze.
Jack folded his arms and approached, trying to contain his anger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Ianto swallowed. “Listen - Jack, I can explain…”
Jack wasn’t listening. He grabbed his coat by the collar and ripped the coat from Ianto’s back.
“I can’t believe this - of either you!” he cried, shaking his coat violently, as though trying to shake off a layer of dust.
“Jack, please -” Ianto babbled “I’m sorry, I just -!”
“No. It’s not all your fault.” Jack turned to glare accusingly at his coat. “Ianto’s young. Easily led astray.” He wrung the collar between his fingers. “And you - you took advantage of that, didn’t you? I can’t believe that you would do such a thing!”
Ianto licked his lips, edging back. “I think I should go…”
Jack lowered his coat and took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, I think that would be for the best.”
iii.
Some nights Jack took Estelle out to the countryside, so she could see the stars. They were cold clear nights, and Estelle only had her little white shawl that her beloved grandmother had knitted her.
He took his coat and draped it over her shoulders like a gentlemen. She adored the coat; twirling around in it like a little girl in a long dress and laughing. Sometimes, when they were getting the train back, he’d wrap her up in it and hold her while she fell asleep.
Watching her walking through the moonlight, his coat hugging her shoulders, Jack’s heart ached. Really, it would be better for both of them if he left them to find comfort in each other.
iv.
It had been one thing when he had found Gray, and told Jack only as a parting shot when he told John to leave and stay gone in no uncertain terms.
It had been another when he had kidnapped Ianto and held him hostage.
It had been yet another when he helped Gray wreak havoc upon Cardiff (even under duress).
It had really been another when he’d taken a pot shot at the Doctor.
But this - this was beyond the pale, even for John.
“John,” Jack began, breathing heavily “Put it down. Please.”
“And why would I want to do that?” John drawled “When here, I have your undivided attention.”
He’d always been the jealous type. Dangerous to be close to in some respects. But this - this! It was too far.
“John, if you don’t put it down - if I find some much as a button loose on that - I won’t be held responsible for actions. It’s gonna be just like the old days.” he growled, clicking the safety off.
“Now, why would I mistreat it?” asked John, leaning back and caressing the front of the coat.
“Get your filthy hands off it!” Jack hissed.
John smirked and began smoothing the fabric with his other hand. “I think it likes my hands on it. My filthy hands…”
“Shut up.”
“It wants it.” said John, spreading his hands. “It loves it - it came to me of its own accord.”
“You’re lying!” Jack yelled, hands shaking.”
John laughed. Not his put on, sardonic way, but genuine joy. And that was when Jack knew. He was telling him the truth.
“No.” he said. His was vision blurring.
“How does it feel?” John crowed “How does it feel to be passed over for once in your life? Passed over for me?”
“You can’t do this to me!” Jack howled “Not after all we’ve been through. All the good times that we’ve shared, don’t they mean anything to you?”
“Well -” John began.
“I wasn’t talking to you!” Jack snapped.
John regarded him coldly and straightened. “Well, if that’s how you feel…perhaps we should go elsewhere.” He opened the tab on his wrist strap and tapped a few buttons.
“What are you doing?” Jack demanded.
“It’s all for the best.” John said, folding his arms, too big sleeves wrinkling at the elbows. Gold Rift energy rippled around him, the coat billowing around him in joy. “If you really loved either of us then you’d want us to be happy.”
“No!” Jack screamed. He threw caution to the wind and made a run for it as though to tackle John.
He was thrown back by the wave of energy. Jack got up on his hands and knees in time to see his beloved (and John) disappear from sight.
Gone. Forever. He was alone now, truly alone.
Jack threw his head back and screamed in grief and agony.
v.
He swallowed, for a moment unable to speak. It was a scene he’d stumbled across more than once (quite a few times, actually - not that he’d admit that to anyone; he had a reputation to maintain), but not like this. Never like this.
Toshiko was curled up on the old sofa by the coffee table, his coat - hiscoat - draped over her.
He approached slowly - quietly, so as not to wake them. His coat. His beloved, beautiful coat…how it could it have betrayed him after all these years? And Toshiko - Toshiko was a friend! She knew what it was like to see someone you loved in the arms of another person - how could she?
Toshiko rolled over, eyeing blinking open and smiled upon seeing him. “Hey. Have we found anything?” she asked, sitting up, cool as you please.
Jack didn’t say anything - couldn’t say anything. The sheer audacity!
“Jack? Is something wrong?”
“ - coat.” Jack choked out.
“Oh, yeah, sorry about that.” said Toshiko sheepishly. She got to her feet, bunching up his coat - his beloved coat - into a ball. “I just got a bit cold and - well, here it is, anyway.” she said, pushing it at him. “I best go see if the computer’s come up with anything.”
She trotted off to check up with her precious computers, and Jack was left cradling the greatcoat in his hands.
He swallowed. “I’ve done some terrible things in my time. But this -” he closed his eyes and swallowed. When opened them they were hard with resolve. He let go of the coat and watched it drop to the stone floor. “I am not going to be your sloppy seconds!”
He turned on his heel and strode away, leaving the coat in a miserable puddle of creases and loose threads.
i.
It was a cold, bitter night outside. Jack had had to stand outside in the slowly thickening rain for the past two hours and now, he was back at the Hub was only to happy to get out of his heavy wet clothes. He draped his shirt over the radiator, carefully hung his trousers up on the wardrobe door.
He towelled down and thought about changing into clean underwear, but, looking at little gas fire grate and his soaked coat he had an idea.
He turned the knob until there was warm yellow fire roaring and spread out his blankets and pillows out on the floor in front of it. He settled down and drew the blankets and his coat over himself.
“Nothing like a romantic night in, eh?” he asked, stroking the damp fabric fondly. One of the sleeves slipped around his neck and Jack sighed happily.