New Year's at the Palace - Day 1 (of 3)
Note: Fic takes place after my story "On a Cold Christmas Eve," which occurs on the night John kills himself and Diane leaves Owen in Out of Time. All you really need to know is that, for the purposes of this story (thank you, artistic license), Combat has already happened, and Jack invited Ianto and Owen to a New Year's party at the Palace of Westminster. Owen is still depressed over Diane. Enjoy!
Rating: 18 for story (you'll see why later), though this chapter is far less. Implications of sex, but no actual sex here. Yet. Patience, my friends...
Chapter 1:
"Oh for the love of god, just get in the damn car!"
"Jack, I just need five more minutes to get everything stowed. If its not done properly, things will fall over and we could break the very expensive equipment. Which would mean cutting into the Coffe Fund to pay for replacements. You really want Costa's?" Ianto rolled his eyes as he began re-packing the back of the rental SUV. Again. For the fifth time.
"It's not Tetris, Ianto! Just fit the stuff!" Jack cried out. Despite having lived in Cardiff for over 100 years and waiting for the Doctor, Jack was not a patient man. Quite ironic, really, for the man who literally has all the time in the Universe.
"Fuckin' hell, Tea Boy, if you take that shite out once more I'll kill you!" Owen yelled out. As Ianto took a step back to (once again) remind his Captain and the doctor of the perils of ill-stowed luggage, Owen ran around him and slammed the boot door closed.
Jack sighed. "Thank god. Can we get in the car now?"
Ianto shook his head, mentally revising his list of 'People Who Should Under No Circumstances Receive Adequate Coffee For The Next Month'. Owen was now at the top of said list. Gwen had been, but that was only because she'd spilt spag bol on his Armani pants when he'd sat next to her at dinner the other night. Not her fault, really, since she'd been startled by Jack's foot suddenly between her thighs (and wasn't Jack suprised when she'd jumped instead of Ianto?!), but he'd needed someone's credit card to charge for the dry cleaning. And it wasn't like she'd never spilled on him before.
Ianto shook his head and walked over to the passenger's side door. He reached for the handle just as Owen made his presence known by practically headbutting him out of the way.
"Higher rank. I get shotgun," Owen muttered as he rubbed one of the multiple bruises absently. He'd been even more of a prat since Diane, but that instance with the Weevils made him withdraw into himself. Whereas before he was still a twat, at least he would still joke or make a pass at Gwen. Now he was just a twat. Ianto understood, really he did. But still.
"Fine. Whatever. I can stretch out in the back. More room for me there than up front anyway. Just enough room for you, though," Ianto goaded. Maybe he'd be able to get Owen out of his shell by baiting him. Like poking a bear with a stick. Nothing else had worked.
Owen lowered his eyes as he sat down. "Did you just call me short?" he growled.
Ianto snorted as he sat sideways in the back. "I believe the word you're looking for is 'implied'. I implied you were short. Saying you were short would go something like, 'Wow, Owen, you're short. Guess you need that sports car to make up for the fact that all your dates have to wear flats.'"
"I'll have you know that all my pulls leave fully satisfied you sheep-loving-" Owen growled out.
"Enough!" Jack yelled. "Enough! Or so help me I will sedate you and tie you up for the entire trip!"
"Somnophilia, Sir? A bit extreme, even for you," Ianto murmured. Jack raised an eyebrow as Ianto sat back, momentarily chastised. He closed his eyes and turned on the IPod. Thank god he liked rock music; he could close his eyes and drown everything out till they reached London. Maybe ignoring that they were on the way there would calm his nerves. He'd read somewhere once that people suffering from PTSD often had flashbacks or were physically sick if they ever returned to where the incident occured. All Ianto needed was to throw up on Her Majesty. That'd make a great impression come Budget Revision Season.
To Ianto's luck, the music didn't work. Making snarky remarks at Owen, however? Priceless.
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The tension in the SUV was thick for nearly the entire ride as Ianto continued to bait Owen and Owen heroically rose to the challenge each time. They'd finally hit Slough on the M4 when Jack'd had enough. His knuckles really couldn't take the stress anymore, and he was pretty sure he'd managed to rip the leather on the steering wheel with the force of his grip.
"What was that, Owen?" Jack ground out.
Owen hurrumphed. "Just wondering why the fuck I had to come. Bunch of pansy ass bureaucrats. Not like I'm gonna xenopsy anyone here. Coulda jus' stayed in fucking rainy Cardiff."
Jack rolled his eyes. "A- I need you to talk to some of the UNIT doctors to find out if they have any new medical information on why the Weevils they deal with aren't responding to the spray. B - I figured you'd want to get out of Cardiff for a bit and visit London, and C- If neither of those work for you, you've been such a twat that if I left you behind, Tosh and Gwen would have killed you and spread your body parts all over Wales. Lots of farmers to Retcon on that retrieval, yeah?"
Owen huffed, "I had the night planned. Go out, find a nice blond with bloody marvellous tits, have her back at hers, drink some champagne, have her again. But no, I get to wear a damn tux and watch you flirt with Princess Anne. How exactly is this supposed to be interesting at all?"
"Oh, I don't know," Jack leered. "Think about it. You in a tux, them in ballgowns...Candles, music, strong martinis...Very James Bond."
"Actually, Sir," Ianto piped up from the back seat, "Bond's martinis were strangely weak. 'Shaken, not stirred' means the ice is in smaller pieces, generally crunched from the shaking. This leads it to melt fast, thereby diluting the gin or vodka. Not really impressive at all."
"Oh shut up, Tea Boy," Owen whinged. "And why the hell is our glorified secretary here? What's he gonna do, ask the pencil pushers if they have any filing innovations? Maybe a new alphabet for us all to learn?"
"I wouldn't mind you using the regular alphabet, Dr. Harper, if you'd only learn how it went. Shall I sing the song for you?" Ianto smiled.
"Stop!" Jack barked. He swung the car off to the break-down lane. Putting the SUV in park, he unhooked his seatbelt and pulled out his Webley. Cocking it, he turned and pointed it between Owen and Ianto. "I'll say this once, and once only. You are both, from your official records, over the age of 18. You are, therefore, adults. Act like it. Owen, I get that you have personal problems, but for the next two and a half days, get over them. If you have a problem with being here, I don't want to hear it. I hate official functions as much as anyone, but I swear to god if you don't stop whinging I'll strip you and leave you tied to the orchestra conductor's podeum. Ianto, leave Owen alone. Don't rattle the cage. Got it?"
Owen and Ianto nodded. Both were reasonably sure that Jack wouldn't shoot, but really, he did have the gun.
Jack sighed and holstered the gun. He took a deep breath, then another, and pulled the SUV back into traffic. Ianto and Owen were silent for the rest of the trip.
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"Two rooms, Sir?" Ianto whispered furiously to Jack as they walked away from hotel reception. "Two? And how to you plan on explaining to Owen that we're sharing?" He took the two room keys room Jack; he'd learned early that despite always being prepared for sex and knowing exactly where to find lube, condoms, and improvised toys in any circumstance, Jack had the conspicuous habit of losing each and any key he was given. Ianto'd once spent so long re-cutting various lost keys that he'd clipped them to Jack's greatcoat sleeve, just like a mother clips mittens to her child. Jack hadn't been best pleased, though the stretchable fabric had come in handy later than night.
"Who said we're sharing?" Jack grinned.
"I swear, Jack, if you make me sleep with Owen-"
Jack held up his hands placatingly. "Just kidding, just kidding. You and me, Owen gets the adjoining room." He sidled closer to Ianto, pulling the younger man behind a strategically placed row of ferns. "Besides, I want you, on New Year's Eve, at midnight, spread out on our satin-sheet king-sized bed, waiting for me. I even brought the special lube."
Ianto swallowed hard. "The...the one that tingles?" he managed to croak out.
Jack kissed just below Ianto's left ear and ran a hand over the front of his trousers. He stroked Ianto as he nibbled on the pale earlobe. "The one you like. The one we used with the feather and the chocolate."
"Oh god..." Ianto moaned, remembering that night and feeling himself hardening. Like a teenager around Jack, he was. Damn 51st Century pheromones.
"Not god, though I do love how you shout that out just as you tense and-"
"Oh fuckin hell," came an exasperated crass voice from behind them. They both jumped, though Jack didn't blush. Jack never blushed. Ianto growled a bit inside; if Jack was anything to go by, blushing and embarrassment had been bred out by the 51st century. Damn man was never embarrassed.
"Leave the Tea-Boy alone, Jack! If he squirts it out here, he won't be able to carry my bags to my room. And if I hear one moan or scream from either of you at night, I'm calling the police!" Grabbing his room key from Ianto, Owen stalked off to the hotel bar. "I'm gettin' pissed. Anyone needs a doctor, call 999 and leave me the hell alone. I see either of you before tomorrow, and I'll make sure to spike all your lube with itching powder."
"Don't worry, Owen," Ianto called after him. "We use your ultrasound gel anyway!"
Jack snorted and pulled Ianto round for a kiss. "Not nice," he murmured. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you enjoy him when he's angry."
Ianto sighed. "Not really. He was less of a twypsyn when he was happy with Diane. But getting him angry's the only way he'll respond now. He's broken, Jack, and I'm not sure we can put him back together."
Jack leaned his forehead against Ianto's and closed his eyes. "That's why I wanted him here. Away from Cardiff, from everything that reminded him of her. We've got two days left to bring him back. You up to it?"
"Is that a challenge, Sir?" Ianto asked coyly, stroking one hand between the button's of Jack's shirt and pinching an already-hard nipple through Jack's undershirt. "I think you'll find that I'm most amenable to challenges. And I'm always up for anything." To illustrate his point, his rolled his groin against Jack. He grinned as Jack's eyes darkened at the telling hardness there.
"Lift. Room. Now," Jack mumbled as he bundled Ianto and their luggage trolley towards the wall of lifts. Ianto smirked. Jack may flirt with anything that moved, but it was only Ianto that could reduce him to one-word sentences.
Jack practically pounced on the first available lift, nearly pulling Ianto's arm of out its socket in his haste. Spinning around to face the front, Ianto sighed as he saw Owen hunched over the hotel bar. It was going to be a long two days.