A Welsh Holiday, or, Jack and Ianto Tackle the Plumbing 2/7
“No.”
“Oh come on Ianto, it's not that bad.”
“No. Absolutely fucking not. No way in hell am I setting one foot in there till the NHS says I won't get the plague.”
“Oh for the love of - It's not that bad!”
“I've seen cleaner sewers, Jack!”
Jack and Ianto were standing in front of what could, if one was quite liberal and kind, be termed a cottage. It had walls and a roof, for sure, and even a door which, once upon a time, may have been green, but was now a lovely shade of brown. That may have been mud, mind, or the fact the salt water had chipped most of the paint off the door, revealing the dull sheen of the warped wood, but still, it only added to the dilapidated exterior. At least the roof was intact, something that Ianto was especially thankful for once the light rain began. It had taken just over four hours to make the drive from Cardiff to Holyhead, and Ianto was pretty sure he’d do just about anything to get Jack to drive four hours back and never have to think about this place again. At least it was only just after noon, which meant they could be back in Cardiff by the evening.
“Please, Ianto, give it a chance. Just close your eyes and think of its potential. It's a great location, right?” Jack begged, cupping Ianto's face with his hands.
Ianto sighed and nodded. In for a penny, and all. And besides, Thankful Jack was a Happy Jack, and Happy Jack meant Happy Ianto. And pancakes. Happy Jack always made pancakes the next morning. Ianto liked pancakes. He especially liked licking the batter from Jack’s chest.
So, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, or some other metaphor which would mean Happy Jack would be visiting Happy Ianto later on, he took a deep breath and pushed through the overgrown grass. He reached the door and gave it a push. Nothing. He tried again. Nothing. He stepped aside and huffed, motioning for Jack to try.
Try as he might, though, even Jack couldn't open the rusted hinges. So, instead, he broke one of the windows.
“Oh, just great. Now we get to add that to the list!”
Jack shrugged and used his elbow to clear the glass shards away. He pushed himself inside and helped Ianto climb through. He held Ianto as the other man gained his footing.
“Oh. Oh god no. Oh dear god,” Ianto said, covering his nose with his hand.
“What?” Jack asked.
“Can't you see it?”
“See what?”
“Jack, there must be years of dirt and grime in here! It'll take months to clean!”
And grime there was. Jack looked out over the open floor plan, taking in the kitchen and sitting room.
“And you have shag carpeting. Who has shag carpeting? Do you have any idea how hard it is to get seawater out of shag carpeting?”
“Jesus, Ianto! I know, alright?! It sucks, I get it! Just give it a rest, ok?” Jack growled, throwing his hands up and stalking over to the old fireplace. “I just wanted us to have someplace nice, ok? Someplace for us!”
“Jack,” Ianto sighed.
“No. No, it's fine. Get back in the car. We'll go to the hotel and I'll have cleaners come in and we'll sell the place.”
Ianto sighed again and walked over to Jack. Obviously Happy Jack had taken a backseat to Petulant Jack. Petulant Jack wasn’t fun. Petulant Jack meant no pancakes. “Why this place, Jack? Why after so long?”
Jack turned in Ianto's arms and rested his head on Ianto's shoulder.
“I've been on earth since the late 1800s. You know that. I started working for Torchwood not long after as a traveling agent. I'd go out, do a job, come back, and they'd put me up in a nice hotel, all on Torchwood's tab. But then, well, there was a job out at the old limestone quarries at Mynydd Taur mountain and I found this place. There was an old man living here, his son'd moved to the U.S. and I bought it on the spot. I thought, well, I didn't have a home anymore, not really. And maybe, between jobs, I could come here. It could be my home.”
“And then you stopped coming and moved into the Hub.”
“Yeah.”
Ianto ran his fingers through Jack's hair. He kissed the skin behind Jack's ear. “Why now, Jack? Why show me now?”
“Because....It's the closest thing I have to a home, Ianto, to a history beyond Torchwood. And I wanted to...well...share it with you, I guess. You've let me in, and this is me, trying to grow up and let you in.”
Jack tried to move away after his confession, but Ianto held him in place. Ianto looked around, taking in the dirt, mold, and dead bugs littering every surface. At first, all he saw was a rundown old shack. But then, well, then he saw it. The photo. One lone photo in a tarnished could-be-silver frame sitting on a small table. A photo of Jack and another man, another man with dark black hair and green eyes, a photo of Jack happy and smiling, sitting in, what Ianto could only guess, was this very room. That's when everything changed. This wasn't about fixing up an old house. It was about Jack giving Ianto something, a piece of himself, and Ianto making it better again. It was about fixing some of the damage that'd been done to Jack during his hundred or so years of exile on Earth.
Ianto took a deep breath and lifted Jack's face with his shoulder. “One demand.”
Jack looked hopeful but wary, waiting desperately for an answer to a question he hadn't even known he'd asked.
“I'm not using this furniture.”
Jack blinked. “What?” That hadn't been the answer he'd been expecting.
Ianto chuckled. “I will not use furniture that has lord knows what growing on it. Walls can be bleached. That sofa? Don't think so. And the shag has to go. It's not suitable for a place in this climate. And I know you only bought it for the name, so don't try and lie.”
“You mean, you'll help? You want it?”
“I'm not Aggie and Kim, Jack. I can't work miracles. But yeah, I think we could fix it up a bit.”
Jack laughed and pushed Ianto against a (don't think about the mold, dear god don't think about the mold) wall, pressing a hungry kiss against his lips. Then Jack pulled back, confused.
“Who's Aggie and Kim?”
“How Clean is Your House? Oh come on, Jack, you've seen it at mine, I know you have, when you can’t sleep. The one with the two old cleaning ladies?”
“They clean? Can we hire them?”
“No Jack. I'm not hiring Kim and Aggie. You wanted this, you'll help do it.”
Jack waggled his eyebrows. “I bet we can make this fun.”
“I draw the line at fluffy rubber gloves.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.” Ianto looked around, wiping some of the dust off the window sill. “I don't even know where to start.”
“At the beginning. It's a very fine place,” Jack said laughing.
“Julie Andrews, Jack? Have you actually seen anything since the 1970s?”
Jack huffed and pulled Ianto in for a kiss. “So, Mr. Jones, where do you want to start?”
Ianto sighed against Jack's lips. “Your house, you do the heavy lifting.”
“Sorry?”
“I'll get all the windows open, and take the door off the hinges to let out some of this stale air. You get as much furniture as you can outside. Go through the drawers, make sure there's nothing you want to keep.”
Jack stood at attention and saluted. “Careful, Jack,” Ianto warned, “Or I'll go find a switch.”
“Not really a punishment, Ianto,” Jack called after him as Ianto made his way towards the kitchen.
By the time Ianto had gotten all the windows open and the door unhinged, Jack was grunting. His jumper was off, and his white t-shirt stuck to his skin with sweat. He'd made progress on some of the furniture, mostly small tables and such, but the old sofa was being stubborn. He didn't remember it being that heavy, and took it as a personal challenge. After nearly throwing his back out for the third time, he stopped pulling when he heard Ianto softly laughing. He looked up and stared at Ianto, leaning casually against a gray-white wall.
“You think this is funny?” he challenged.
“Yep. Want some help?”
“I'll manage, thanks,” Jack retorted. He bent down again and started pulling, yelping as the persistent twinge in his lower back flared into all-out pain. He fell to his knees, cursing.
Ianto ran over, running a hand up and down Jack's back. “You ok?” he asked.
Jack looked up and grimaced. “Yeah, fine. Guess I could use that help.”
Ianto shook his head, smiling. “I'll get the screwdrivers, then.”
“Screwdrivers?”
Ianto burst out laughing. “It's...it's a sleeper sofa, Jack. If we take the mattress and metal frame out, it'll be a lot lighter.”
“It's a sleeper?”
“You don't even know what kind of furniture you own? Sounds like something you'd have, anyway. I'll get that screwdriver, you start pulling the cushions off.”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“Right, and this is why one checks the fuse box before messing with the electricity,” Ianto admonished as he pulled Jack's hand away from his mouth. “Let me see.” Ianto took the singed tips and kissed each one. Jack hummed appreciatively as Ianto ran his tongue lightly over the reddened areas. They'd made some substantial progress in the kitchen and sitting room that afternoon, deciding to leave the bathroom and bedroom till the next day. Granted, the toilet itself was being replaced (under Ianto’s orders - no way was he using something that Owen could grow mould cultures in), but at least there were bushes outside. Small favours, he mused. Ianto'd never been more thankful for Jack's foresight in getting a hotel room for the first few nights.
“We can take this some place comfortable,” Jack suggested.
“And where would that be? You have no furniture.”
“We have that table and that cupboard. And we have a wooden chair.”
“I am not having sex in a cupboard or on a wooden chair. My back'll be sore enough without that, thank you.”
“Doesn't have to be sex.”
“And I'm not doing anything with you till this place is clean.”
“But that'll take forever!” Jack whinged.
“Think of it as an incentive. You get one room done, I'll let you remove some of my clothing. Maybe even let you touch me without the trousers,” Ianto winked as he walked back towards the sink. He'd been working on getting clean water, instead of that brown sludge, when Jack'd decided to play electrician. Almost had it too. Then, suddenly, just as he'd fitted himself back under the sink, a rush of freezing cold sludge water poured on top of him. He screamed (not like a little girl, thank you) and pushed himself out of the cabinet.
He sat up quickly, glaring at Jack who was standing against the sink, right leg crossed casually over left, hand on the faucet. “I. Hate. You.” Ianto ground out as he wiped the sludge water from his face.
“And that's why we turn the water off before we mess with the plumbing,” Jack said, grinning unabashed.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“I just can't figure it out!” Jack whinged, throwing his hands in the air and almost hitting Ianto in the head with the wire strippers.
“What's wrong?” Ianto asked. It was getting dark out, and if Jack couldn't figure out the electricity, they'd have to leave soon. Ianto prayed Jack wouldn't figure it out. He wanted a bath with real water. And soap. Ohhhh milled cream soap...
“I did everything, but there's still no juice! What's wrong with this?!” Jack cried, stomping away.
“You did everything?” Ianto asked. Jack nodded. “Stripped and reattached the wires?” Jack nodded again. “Made sure there were no holes in the connection?” Jack nodded, holding up an instrument that was certainly not borrowed from the hub, oh certainly not. “Called to have the electricity turned on?” Jack started nodding, then stopped, furrowing his brow. “You didn't, did you? You never called to turn the electricity on?”
Jack opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He looked at the wires hanging from the hole in the wall, then at the wire strippers in his hand. Then he looked back at Ianto, who, had it not been for the nearby wooden chair that Jack had saved from the kerb, would have been on the floor laughing. “It's not funny!” he exclaimed. He hated being laughed at. Laughing, yes, laughing with someone, fine, but being laughed at? No thank you.
“Jack, you have to actually call the company. You...you can't just come here and expect it to work!”
Jack threw the wire strippers into the corner and stalked out of the house. He put his hands on the hood of Ianto's car, trying to take deep breaths. He'd promised Ianto a house, dammit, and he couldn't even give him water or electricity. He started as he felt Ianto's arms wrap around his waist.
“Let's go to the hotel, Jack. Nothing else we can do tonight. We'll call the utility company in the morning,” Ianto said softly.
Jack sighed. “I'm sorry. I hadn't realized it was so bad. I thought, a day, maybe two, and it'd be fine.”
“Think of it as a long term project then. Something to have us coming back. Though, maybe you should hire someone for the grounds?”
“Yeah, maybe. Yeah, ok. Let's go back to the hotel. I'm sorry.”
“Not your fault, Jack. I think, maybe, after a while, it'll be a nice place. Now come on. In the car. I need a shower, and you promised not-sex.”
Jack smiled as he slid into the front seat. “Wait! We have to lock the door.”
Ianto turned to him, eyebrow raised. “Trust me, Jack. No one's gonna go in.”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Ianto lounged in the big, warm canopy bed at the Trearddur Bay hotel. He grinned as he looked around the room Jack had reserved. Trust Jack to do nothing by half; he had, instead, sprung for one of the nicest rooms. Complete with its own whirlpool bath, which he and Ianto’d made excellent use of twice already.
Ianto stretched, luxuriating in the Egyptian cotton sheets and hummed delightedly at the differences between this bed and the one in Jack’s little compartment in the Hub. Tomorrow morning Jack had agreed to go furniture shopping at a second-hand place on Cyttir Road that the receptionist had recommended. Ianto’d insisted on at least a double bed; Jack’d insisted on a King. Ianto agreed, if only to stop Jack from continually embarrassing the receptionist with talks about how they would put the King bed to good use. She was a pretty little thing- the receptionist, not the bed- and Ianto couldn’t wait to get Jack out of there before she got any interesting ideas. They’d only done that once, and Jack (surprisingly) was the one who demanded never again, Ianto, you’re mine.
“Hey,” Jack said softly as he opened the door and walked over, easing back onto the bed.
“You were gone a long time,” Ianto said just as softly.
“Yeah. Took a while, but I found some,” he said, holding up a small bottle in his left hand. “Had to dig through all those boxes, but I knew I’d packed it.”
Ianto yawned. It was near midnight now, and he’d spent the whole afternoon and evening cleaning house. How was it that a good airing was always so tiring?
“Found what?” he muttered as he turned into Jack.
“Massage oil,” Jack grinned, winking. “Turn over. Let me get that back.”
Ianto snorted. “I think you’d be the one needing the massage, old man. I’m not the one who almost threw his back out lifting a sofa. Maybe you should lay off the biscuits.”
Jack wacked him on the head. “I got it. It’s fine, out on the kerb.”
“After I took it apart. Haven’t you ever done DIY?”
“Not in this century. Ask me how to rewire a Jelovian Flight console and I’m good.”
Ianto patted him on the knee. “My little wife. Would you like me to handle the big, bad tools while you cook dinner?”
“I look great in a skirt and pearls. Little pair of black pumps? Great calves,” Jack leered.
Ianto blinked open an eye and stared at him. “Sometimes I don’t know when you’re joking.”
“Only sometimes? I can never tell with you. Why do you think I always loose at poker?”
“’Cause you can’t keep a straight face to save your life and you get bored when you’re the only one with no clothes left on.”
Jack snorted. It was true. Mutual nakedness was so much more fun.
Ianto sat up on his knees and grabbed the massage oil from Jack’s hand. “Clothes off and on your stomach then.”
“I was gonna do you,” Jack whinged and he removed his shirt and trousers.
Ianto stretched and yawned. “Do me tomorrow.”
“Oh yes, Sir, thank you sir!” Jack laughed. “Can I do you tomorrow, Sir, and the next day too?”
Ianto swatted him and pushed him back onto the bed.
He drizzled a line of oil down the middle of Jack’s back, tracing the bumps and ridges of his spine. He used a finger to trace oil around the outline of muscles, rippling the skin as Jack chuckled.
“Ticklish,” he said sheepily.
“Hush,” Ianto commanded. “No talking. Just relaxing.”
Jack hummed in agreement.
Ianto began kneading the sore muscles, smiling sleepily as the lines in Jack’s face smoothed out. This was something new, too. Before, Jack would never have let him take care of him like this. Jack always had to be the giver, not the taker. Lots of things had changed while he’d been away. Ianto resolved to find out what had actually happen- in time, of course, whenever Jack was ready.
Finally finished, he lay down on top of Jack’s back, stretched fully, covering Jack’s entire back. He cupped on hand under Jack’s face, turning it towards him, and kissed him softly.
“Ianto,” Jack whispered.
“Shh,” Ianto said, lifting himself up on his knees and feeling down between Jack’s legs. Jack twisted his body onto his side, giving Ianto access. Jack was relaxed, completely relaxed, and half asleep by now, moving on instinct rather than thought. It only took a few moves, but Ianto wrung him out, gently twisting and pushing the skin. Jack came silently, with only another whispered “Ianto” on his lips. Ianto used the tissues on the bedside table to clean them up, wiped off the blanket, and pulled Jack against him and away from the wet spot. He pulled the heavy comforter around them, falling asleep the soft sounds of rain pelting against the window. Tonight they would sleep. Tomorrow was furniture shopping. Furniture shopping with Jack. Furniture shopping with Jack having to try out every single piece, especially the prospective bed. He needed all the rest he could if he was going to deal with an overexcited Jack.