Fic: Sweet Things Changed to Bitterness, Bitter Things Turned into Joy
Title: Sweet Things Changed to Bitterness, Bitter Things Turned into Joy
Author: Anonymous
Recipient: EVERYONE!
***
Ianto leaned wearily on the conference table. His head ached. He had been working on strengthening his shields all morning with Jack-seeing how long he could keep the bond completely closed before the voices started to seep through.
Two aspirin and a cup of instant coffee, courtesy of Jack, hadn’t done anything to tame the headache, so Ianto imagined this was going to be a very long meeting.
Are you okay? Jack sounded sympathetic; they had opened the bond up enough so that he must have been feeling the echo of Ianto’s pain.
My head hurts, but I’ll be fine. It wasn’t a lie. He would be fine…after a long, hot shower, and a nap. Unfortunately, he didn’t expect either of those to be an option, at least for a little while.
Gwen was practically buzzing. She had made a breakthrough on the Pict case, but Ianto was too tired to read what it was from her thoughts.
Beside Jack, Martha didn’t look any better than he felt. Apparently her fiancé wasn’t as enamored with Wales as she’d hoped he would be. Ianto wasn’t terribly surprised. It took a special sort of person to love Cardiff.
Are you sure? I can move the meeting until later and let you take a nap? Ianto sat up. Gwen was already starting to talk. It was a little too late to push back the meeting.
It’s fine Jack. Stop mothering. Jack used the bond to make it clear that his feelings were hurt, but Ianto was feeling grumpy and ignored him.
If Gwen was right, Rebecca Johnson, the old lady’s daughter, was being held captive in her own home. It didn’t quite fit into the Pict’s pattern, at least the one that they had been working from, but it was a lot more easily believable than robbery. And it gave them an address.
Tomorrow, Gwen was going to confront Mrs. Johnson while she was at work and the children were at school. Jack and Ianto would go to the house and deal with the Pict.
Martha made it abundantly clear that she thought that was a terrible plan considering what had happened the last time Ianto had been confronted with the alien.
Hughes just sat back and watched the fireworks.
In the end, it was Jack’s decision, and Jack was right. It was the only plan that made sense. Hughes didn’t have any field experience and nobody trusted her to deal with a potentially emotionally fragile single mother.
Even if Ianto didn’t think that Hughes was completely socially inept, he didn’t think that she would be well-suited to consoling a stranger whose family had been held hostage in their own home by a mad, telepathic alien.
And Jack wanted Matha in the SUV with a full medical kit ready and waiting. He couldn’t risk her being hurt and out of commission if everything went to hell in a hand basket.
So it was decided. Everyone would stay on com, but Martha and Hughes would be backup, and Gwen would deal with the family.
Ianto was glad the meeting was over. The tension between Martha and Jack was almost thick enough to cut, and he almost hoped that one of them would get hurt just so that she would have something to do the next day. Almost.
Hughes had finally figured out what Jack’s wristband was, and her thoughts were racing so quickly down paths pertaining to how it could be fixed that it made Ianto feel dizzy. He was afraid that if he stayed in her mind too long, her wild, technical tangents would make him nauseous. He’d break the news to her later that the wristband was supposed to be broken. Maybe, Jack could let her loose on the mainframe. Gwen was right; it was acting finicky, and that would at least divert Hughes attention for a little while.
He didn’t want to go anywhere near Gwen’s thoughts, because after stumbling upon the potential answer to a question that had been plaguing them ever since they realized that the Pict’s body was gone, she was probably so pleased with herself that feeling her that happy might have actually put him in a good mood.
He didn’t want to risk that.
So, that left Jack.
And Jack was ignoring him.
***
Jack watched Ianto’s back as he left the conference room.
Gwen followed him out, still walking on a cloud after her discovery.
He understood that Martha was stressed out by the change from Unit to Torchwood and upset about her fiancé reaction to living in Cardiff, but he had had it. “Enough,” he commanded.
Martha followed his gaze. Ianto obviously hadn’t been feeling well. “I’m sorry, Jack. I get it. I don’t like the plan; you heard my complaints, but they haven’t changed your mind. The plan stays.” Jack gave her a half-hug, squeezing her shoulder as he pulled away.
“There’s no need to apologize. I respect your opinion. I just can’t think of anything better at the moment. Plus, Ianto’s in pain; I can feel it through the bond, and it’s throwing me off-center.”
Martha stood up and stretched. Her back cracked loudly, and her t-shirt rode up. Jack stared, unabashed.
“Jack!” She couldn’t help but giggle. Jack being Jack always seemed to break the tension in a room.
“What? I’m just appreciating the view.” She slapped him lightly on the back of the head and was surprised to see that not only was Hughes still in the room, the other woman was almost smiling.
“Should I leave you two alone?” Jack gaped like a fish, and Martha laughed. So there was a sense of humor under the crusty exterior.
“God no! Jack wouldn’t have any idea of what to do with a woman.” Now Hughes really was smiling. So she had heard the stories then. Jack, on the other hand, was completely silent. One would almost think that he was at a loss for words.
Martha patted him on the back as she made her way around the table.
“I know exactly what to do with a woman, Martha Jones. I’m even willing to show you. Both of you. Gwen can join in too, that is, of course, if Rhys doesn’t mind.”
Hughes had already started wheeling away, and Martha followed; she shut the door firmly behind her-leaving Jack to defend his prowess to an empty room.
Ianto was waiting just outside. “It has been a long time since Jack’s manhood has been called into question.” Martha wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, but then Ianto smiled. “Thank you. I enjoyed his moment of speechlessness.”
Whatever was wrong with Ianto before, he seemed positively chipper after that.
It was actually almost scary. It made her appreciate her own normal, loving relationship.
***
That evening, Martha and Gwen left early at Jack’s suggestion. Hughes stayed. She wasn’t tired, and the things that the Cardiff rift spit out were absolutely fascinating.
There was no point in going home to her empty apartment to watch reruns of East Enders when the Hub was so much more interesting. Only half-focusing on the intricacies of a pair of alien bagpipes, she studied Ianto out of the corner of her eye.
He was tearing the box that used to hold her hoard of alien tech. into small squares and throwing those in a large, green garbage bag. She didn’t understand why he wore suits if he was just going to sit on the floor and get the trousers all dirty.
Jack’s office was quiet, but the light was still on. She snorted, wondering if they were waiting for her to go home. As if it isn’t obvious that they are sleeping together.
Ianto looked up…it was hard to tell, but he might have been blushing.
Hughes dragged herself a little closer to her pile of gadgets. There was what looked like a Martian kitchen knife half-buried under a broken kettle and the remains of a parachute. She rubbed her thumb over the crack in the side of the kettle. I wonder what world this came from.
The knife came free with a tug. It was in good condition. A trip through space and time hadn’t done anything to dull the edge; the handle was worn but whole, and even the retracting mechanism worked well.
“Here.” She tossed the knife over the edge of the pile and towards Ianto. It bounced once before skidding to a halt by his thigh. “That should help.”
She pictured herself opening and closing the knife instead of bothering to explain how it worked. It clicked open, and she watched him slide it easily through the cardboard before returning her focus to the bagpipes.
***
Well, Jack reflected as he bent his neck to give Ianto better access and knocked a pile of papers off his desk trying to get more comfortable, if he had to be humiliated, at least he had gotten something out of it this time.
Ianto seemed to be in a much better mood.
Distantly, Jack hoped that they would make it down to the bed. He didn’t need the sleep, but Ianto did. Plus, as much as he liked his desk, a bed was always more comfortable.
Then, Ianto’s fingers were on his fly, starting to undo the buttons, and Jack stopped thinking. He scooted backwards again-still trying to get comfortable-only this time, he scooted so far that his bum slid off the other edge of the desk. He caught himself on the desk chair, which then proceeded to roll backwards and dump him on the ground.
Ianto seemed to think that the whole thing was so hilarious that he actually fell to the floor laughing. He hadn’t been able to see what was going on, but he had a good imagination.
The bond opened, and Jack had to admit that the images that Ianto sent him were amusing. He hoped that he hadn’t actually looked that comical.
He crawled around the other side of the desk so that they could lie side by side.
“I think that I might be getting a little too old for sex on that desk.” He felt Ianto’s hand brush against his own, and turned his palm upwards so that they could lace their fingers together.
“Hardly. You just need to work on being a little less distracted.” That was a challenge if Jack had ever heard one, but he doubted that either of them were really up for it at the moment. Maybe another day.
“I can’t help it.” He turned on his side so that he could give Ianto a chaste kiss. “You’re just too damn distracting.” With that he stood up and used their clasped hands to tug Ianto to his feet as well. “Come on, you. Let’s go downstairs where there’s a bed, and I don’t have to risk hurting myself any further.”
Ianto projected a stream of images of Jack falling off the bed in answer to that, but they managed to make it down the ladder, undress, and get into bed without further incident.
***
The next morning, they put Jack’s plan into action.
The house was white with a red door and window boxes full of weeds. No one had tended to them in awhile. The lights were on, but there wasn’t any movement behind the lace curtains.
Jack came up beside him and squeezed his hand. You okay?
He rested his head on Jack’s shoulder for a moment. Yeah, just nervous.
“The plan’s a good one. Everything will be over soon.” Jack sounded convincing. He even felt almost sure of their success, but Ianto couldn’t help but doubt that everything was going to be that easy.
Gwen coughed over the com, and Martha giggled. “Are you two done?” Jack played up to the audience by giving Ianto a loud, wet kiss on the cheek.
Gwen just sighed, used to Jack’s bad behavior, but Martha got out an amused “Jack!” between laughs.
Ianto appreciated attempts to lessen the tension. He only wished that they didn’t have to be at his expense. That didn’t make me feel any better, Jack.
“How about this?” Jack’s fingers under his chin urged him to turn his head.
And then Jack kissed him. Like he meant every second of it. Ianto put his arms around Jack’s neck, and Jack gripped his hips, drawing him closer. They kissed like it might be the last time, hard, deep, and passionate, and they lingered over the parting.
Ianto cupped Jack’s cheek and kissed him again. Softer.
They were both aware of the time.
Ianto wished that he could see Jack’s eyes. As it was, he settled for feeling Jack’s affection through the bond.
When this is over… Ianto rested his forehead against Jack’s. He could smell pheromones and coffee.
Anything. Jack was obviously still muddled by the kiss. Well, almost anything. His voice sounded cynical enough that Ianto smiled and pulled away.
A date. When all of this is over, promise me that we will go on a date. Jack laughed. Really laughed. The full-bodied, gut-holding sort of laugh.
And the women seemed to remember that they did indeed have work to do.
“Now are you two done?” Gwen asked, amused. Jack was too busy laughing to answer, and Ianto just didn’t feel like it.
“Yes, Mam.” Jack had finally caught his breath, and Ianto could practically feel his grin.
It would be my pleasure.
***
After that, it was down to business. Jack and Ianto went in the front door to confront the Pict while Martha waited impatiently in the SUV, and Gwen, on the other side of town, faced Rebecca.
The house was unnaturally quiet for a home with two young children. Ianto could hear the tick tock of a grandfather clock in the living room, and the creak of the floorboards underneath their feet, but that was all.
He stayed behind Jack, using the bond to help pick his way through unfamiliar surroundings.
They found her in the kitchen.
She was sitting at the table, waiting for them. She was achingly beautiful; Ianto felt the knowledge hit Jack and ignored the responding surge of desire. Her mind reached out to them.
She had found a family. They were kind to her.
But it wasn’t the same.
They couldn’t speak to her.
The loneliness was still a throbbing hole in her chest.
Ianto felt his feet move. He felt himself passing Jack and walking towards the table, as if in a dream. He heard her. He felt her.
I know you. Her voice. He had never heard anything like it. Blood was pounding in his veins; his ears were ringing. He could feel her everywhere, exploring every thought he had ever had, growing to know him in a way no one else would ever be able to.
She whispered the promise of unparalleled intimacy through his thoughts, someone who would know everything about him and love him despite it. Perhaps, love him because of it.
And in exchange, she opened up her mind.
Ianto had experienced Jack’s memories, and this wasn’t the same. She wasn’t just sharing her terror and loneliness; she was opening up her mind fully, sharing everything that she was.
Ianto saw her family, one by one, until he knew them all, and all of the emotions she associated with them. He watched her grow from a child to an adolescent-sharing her hopes, and dreams, and desires.
He experienced every happiness that she had ever known.
And, they balanced the terror and loneliness.
He embraced her. He could feel his sense of self slipping away. She was so glad to have found him; she was prepared to love him with every fiber of her being.
He was drowning under the promise of that love.
***
“Fuck!” With the Pict’s attention no longer focused on him, Jack found it much easier to break out from under her thrall.
Both of their guns were gone. Jack assumed that his had fallen to the floor, but he couldn’t spot it, and Ianto’s had slid under the table. He doubted that the Pict wouldn’t notice him trying to retrieve that.
Jack watched Ianto step into the circle of the Pict’s arms and swore again. Nothing was going according to plan!
What he could feel through the bond had trickled down to almost nothing, and Jack was afraid of what that might mean. Think. Think. Think. Bugger thinking.
“Ianto!” Ianto! Jack took all of his fear and threw it as hard as he could against the bond.
Big thoughts. Mortal terror. Jack thought about losing Ianto, about looking into his eyes and falling into the same chasm he had experienced when he met the Pict.
IANTO! He could feel his heart beating in his throat. It was the loudest sound in the room.
Ianto twitched.
He turned towards Jack’s voice.
There were tears glistening on his cheeks.
Even Jack wasn’t sure what happened next. One moment Ianto’s cheek was brushing against the Picts, their tears mingling. It looked like they would kiss.
And the next, both of them were sinking to the ground, Ianto clutching a knife that was buried hilt-deep in the Pict’s chest.
Her mouth opened, and no sound came out except for a gurgle of golden blood. Her head sagged forward onto Ianto’s shoulder, eye’s staring.
Jack felt it when she died. It was like a loud, buzzing sound in his head that suddenly just stopped.
He could think straight again.
Ianto was on the floor rocking the Pict’s dead body. Jack had to wait for Gwen to drag away the corpse while he held Ianto back.
He didn’t like the wild way that Ianto’s empty eyes moved from side to side, or the bruised feeling of the bond.
I think that it’s time for us to go home.
Ianto didn’t answer, but he let himself be half-picked-up and maneuvered out of the house and into the SUV.
***
Jack remembered Gwen explaining that Rebecca Johnson had found the Pict on her doorstep-soaked and bleeding-and taken care of her. She ate dinner with them, played games with the children; they weren’t her captives; she was their guest. They were just afraid that the neighbors would see and have her taken away by people that would possibly hurt her.
The attempted robbery had just been a misunderstanding. Her mother had seen the Pict-who had fled into the garden to hide. The police were already there by the time that she got home, so it had just been easier for Rebecca to work with the story of a failed robbery. Much easier than explaining that an alien lived in their guest room.
They mourned the Pict’s death.
Jack heard it all, but it was like a dream. He couldn’t bring himself to care about their pain. His own was to all-consuming.
It took two weeks for Ianto to recover enough to start to rebuild the shields that had been torn apart during the confrontation with the Pict.
Intellectually, Jack understood that more than Ianto’s shields had been damaged that day; his entire mind had been shattered, and Ianto had picked up the pieces, welding them back together as best he could. Jon had explained it to him the first time that Jack called Glasgow, crying and completely out of control. In his heart, he didn’t understand how Ianto could be the same and yet not.
Sometimes Jack thought that he noticed a piece missing.
Or two that hadn’t been put together in quite the right way.
Then, Ianto would smile, or laugh, or say something with his beautiful, Welsh accent, and the moment would be gone.
Martha insisted that there was nothing wrong with is Ianto’s eyes, but he still had not regained any of his sight. As for the other wounds, she said that there was nothing that she could do.
Jon offered to come to Cardiff, but Jack refused.
He didn’t want him to. Not now, not when everything still hurt so badly.
Jon offered to have Ianto come to Glasgow. Jack told Ianto about the invitation-laughing half-madly. He thought that Ianto would dismiss it immediately, but Ianto didn’t say anything. They never mentioned it again.
He acted like everything was alright. They both did. They all did. He was convinced that if he could make himself believe it, one morning he would wake up and it would be true.
As time passed, things got better.
Ianto rebuilt his shields.
The bond began to feel familiar. Or maybe Jack had just gotten used to the way that this new, different Ianto felt. Maybe he had forgotten the way that the bond was supposed to feel.
There were stretches of days where everything seemed normal, like it was before. Ianto would seem whole, and healthy, and completely himself.
The stretches never lasted more than a few days.
At some point, Jack came to terms with the fact that the stretches would probably never last more than a few days.
He tried to convince himself that it was enough.
***
Jack? He could feel Ianto in his mind, using his knowledge of the office to navigate through it and down the ladder. It was oddly reassuring.
The Hub had been quiet since that night. Jack wasn’t sure if they needed to talk about it, or, if they tried, if there would be anything to say.
“You’re brooding.” Jack smiled, and Ianto reached out to brush fingers over the curve of his lips. He didn’t bother to sit up; he didn’t even bother to open his eyes.
“A bit.” Jack moved over to give Ianto room to sit-the bed squeaking ominously.
He waited for Ianto to make another move: a kiss, a caress…nudity was always appreciated. Instead, he got a pinch in side.
Jack sat up with a start. “What the hell!” he complained.
Ianto leaned in for a kiss then. It was sweet, and lingering. And, Jack wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to think of Ianto’s mood. Sometimes he wanted to go back to those first few days of the bond.
He could read lust, hunger, and self-satisfaction off of Ianto. But, that was all.
You’re planning something. He hoped that a mental conversation would cause Ianto to let more slip.
Yep. Jack caught an image of Cardiff at night-lit up and splendid-before Ianto closed the bond to a trickle of amusement.
“Come on.” Jack swore as the elastic of his pants was snapped deftly, and a shopping bag that had been previously half-pushed under the bed was thrust into his arms.
“Get dressed, and we’ll go.” Ianto was out of the room and up the ladder faster than a blind man had any right to be.
“You’re not even going to help me?” The suit was high quality. He could already tell that it was going to fit perfectly.
Ianto sent him an image in reply to that suggestion: both of them naked and sweating, Jack blindfolded, his arms tied securely to the headboard, Ianto’s lips just slipping over the head of his erection.
“That’s cheating!” Ianto’s laughter and the clank of the coffee machine drifted down from the upper level of the Hub. It was going to be a long night.
***
It was raining when they stepped outside of the Hub. A grey drizzle blanketed the city and caught the light of the street lamps. It was just cool enough for the suit jackets to be comfortable, but not cold enough for coats.
“So,” Jack slipped into the cab as Ianto held the door for him, “where are we going?” He slid over, and Ianto got in beside him. The cab was a nice touch; they were shedding the mantle of Torchwood for the night then.
“Giovanni’s at The Hayes, please.” If they sat a little closer than chums off to meet their dates at a restaurant, the cabby didn’t seem to notice.
Italian? Jack leaned over to look out the windshield; the wipers were clicking slowly but steadily. It didn’t look like it would stop raining any time soon. Ianto was wearing a different cologne. It smelled good, like sandalwood.
I’m collecting on a promise. Ianto had crossed his arms and leaned his head back against the seat, eyes closed. You owed me a date, so I arranged one. Besides, you’ve always said you liked Italian.
Jack felt his lips twitch into a half-smile. Ianto was being feisty tonight.
So, is the chance to eat some Italian my only surprise for the night? Jack wished that Ianto could see to appreciate the full force of his leer. You look good in that suit.
Ianto was appallingly good at faking outrage, even in his thoughts. Captain, are you propositioning me?
The cab dropped them off in front of the restaurant.
Are you interested? Jack was already imagining an alley way wall against his back, Ianto kneeling in a puddle, swallowing around his cock.
Ianto didn’t bother to answer that question.
“Reservation for Jones.”
They passed two women holding hands over the table cloth, and Jack smiled at them. One of them winked back. Cheeky.
About half of the restaurant was dressed up; some of the patrons looked very attractive in their formal wear.
Jack liked looking, but no one tonight was more appealing than Ianto.
Their table was semi-secluded in a back corner. Patrons a few feet away conversed in low tones, but nobody seemed to take any notice of them. It was a nice place. The menu looked appetizing. He broadcasted his approval towards Ianto.
I like it here.
I thought you might. Ianto sounded just the smug side of pleased.
A waiter with big, brown eyes and a smile slightly too wide for his face, introduced himself and asked if they were ready to order.
I really like it here.
“A bottle of Amarone Valpolicella and two antipasto mistos to start. Then, the agnello al forno for me, and he will have the filetto tradizionale.”
Jack did his best to turn a snort into a cough. Sometimes there were downsides to this telepathic bond stuff.
“Anything else, sirs?” Jack shock his head and turned the full force of his charm on the waiter.
“No, that will be fine.” Young Anthony was blushing as he nodded and turned away.
Ianto leaned back in his chair, hands resting lightly on his thighs. Dating suited him; he looked relaxed and comfortable, and the way that his shirt stretched over his chest put Jack in mind of all the wicked things he would insist on doing once their date was over with.
“Let’s talk.” Jack had hoped that they might go shag in the toilet, but talking would do.
So they talked.
***
Ianto let Jack’s arm slip around his waist to rest a hand on his hip. He even leaned in-appreciating the warmth; it was colder now than it had been when they left the Hub. The rain had stopped, and the moon was almost full.
The front windows of shops were still lit, though their yellow light stretched and thinned into darkness. A few men were spilling out of open pub doors to laugh and smoke. Down the street, a group of drunken students stumbled along, singing.
He could imagine the way it looked, all of it, using the thoughts around him.
It still wasn’t quite as good as being able to actually see it.
Having reached a silent consensus, they veered away from the line of taxis outside of St. David’s Hall.
It had been a good concert. Ianto had spent most of the night trying to ignore Jack’s increasingly impossible sexual innuendoes, and the deluge of obscene mental images that went with them, but even Jack had quieted once the music started.
The Royal Philharmonic played beautifully.
“Thank you.” Ianto moved just far enough away to dislodge Jack’s arm, but clasped his hand, entwining their fingers instead. It was too difficult to walk when they were standing that closely together.
“You’re welcome. I thought that you might like it.” You should go more often. You don’t leave the Hub nearly enough.
Jack squeezed their clasped hands but didn’t argue.
They strolled leisurely towards Ianto’s flat, enjoying the night.
The students caught up with them at the next street light, and Jack asked them what bar they had been to. Laughing and contradicting one another, they came up with a list. They asked Jack where he was going, and he held up their clasped hands, smiling. There was a pause, then one of the students giggled and everyone laughed. Some of the braver ones shouted suggestions as they crossed the street and went in their separate directions.
Jack started to hum. Ianto listened to him, bemused. He wondered if Jack had ever been a student. It was hard to imagine Jack sitting quietly through lectures.
By the time that they reached the flat, and Ianto unlocked the door, Jack was whistling bawdy drinking songs. His neighbor was a half-deaf, little, old lady who was unlikely to complain, so Ianto let him continue unchastised.
Once the door was closed behind them, Jack’s entire manner changed.
***
Ianto barely read Jack’s intention before he was pressed up against the wall, a light switch digging into his back, and being kissed thoroughly, open-mouthed and firm.
Ianto pressed back, sliding his hands up to push Jack’s jacket off his shoulders. Jack shook the jacket the rest of the way off, and they stumbled backwards. Ianto didn’t worry about not being able to see, about running into things. The lights weren’t on; Jack couldn’t see either. And, the feel of a tongue rubbing against his own, bruising lips, and the slightly painful nip of teeth…they were so much more important.
All of his attention was focused on Jack.
They crashed through the doorway and into his bedroom. Ianto heard the door bang against the wall-bouncing twice; it sounded far away.
I’ve been thinking about this all night. Ianto felt Jack’s hands on his chest as the buttons on his shirt started to be undone; the last one clicked against the floor when the thread broke.
Jack pressed a knee between his legs, and Ianto ground against his thigh. His jacket hit the ground with a whoosh, but the shirt caught on his wrists. He had to pull it back up for them to get the buttons on the cuffs undone.
Me too. He groaned at the loss of friction, but then Jack was kneeling. Ianto could feel the heat of each exhale. Jack’s lips-he imagined them swollen and bruised-were practically touching his fly. He buried his hands in Jack’s hair as the zipper was pulled slowly downwards.
Jack lips pressed against the wet patch on the front of his briefs. Ianto held his head there for a moment, and Jack acquiesced, mouthing his erection through the fabric.
Ianto was too busy appreciating the feeling to notice Jack’s hands pushing his trousers over his hips and down his legs, until Jack urged him backwards, and he tripped-falling onto the bed.
Jack laughed; removed Ianto’s shoes and socks, and pulled the trousers the rest of the way off. You should pay more attention.
Ianto could hear Jack undress and the pause afterwards when Jack was posing despite the fact that Ianto couldn’t see him to appreciate it. He used a hundred memories of similar poses to imagine him instead: naked, his cock hard and jutting, his eyes dark with lust, and his lips twisted in a half-smile. Then you should stop distracting me.
Jack laughed, throaty and full of promises, sharing his lust until it built and crashed between them, a circle of want.
Ianto did his best to remove his underwear before Jack made it to the bed.
A good night, indeed.
***
When Jack woke up, it was to Ianto carding fingers gently through his hair. He hadn’t slept long, maybe an hour or two, but the sun was just rising. A strip of light was visible between the curtains, and the entire room was half-lit-shadows twisting whenever a breeze from the ceiling fan caught the curtains.
Ianto was breathing in time to the tick, tick, tick of his clock. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get up and go to work.
Jack turned over onto his stomach-trapping Ianto’s arm and one of his legs beneath him. “Let’s take the morning off. Gwen, Hughes, and Martha can handle the Hub without us.” Jack kissed along Ianto’s clavicle and up the side of his neck.
“Jack…” He could feel Ianto’s cock twitch against his thigh, interested.
And, then the bond opened. He could feel the desire, the affection, the sadness.
…You are checking the family, making sure that they are alright. The woman is crying silently; the man is mumbling about poor, poor, David and shaking his head. Gwen is kneeling in front of them, talking to them, touching their hands.
Something is wrong. You are running; you are drawing your gun and screaming. “Jack!”
Then there is only pain.
…You wake up. You are warm, and comfortable, and lustful. He is there with you; you can smell him.
The lust increases.
There’s a voice, darkness.
You realize that you are blind.
…You are naked and open. At your lover’s mercy. You can feel the pillows beneath your shoulders and his weight between your legs. Your eyes are open and sightless; you touch his lips, wishing you could see his smile.
You know that he is looking at you. A wave of discomfort washes over you. It’s not your own.
You close your eyes.
…You are standing in front of a beautiful alien, embracing her. Your mind is breaking into pieces and falling into hers.
Your cheeks are brushing. You are both crying.
The dagger is sharp; you slip it easily between her breasts and push it upwards.
She chokes.
You feel her dying.
“Jack.” When Jack came back to himself, Ianto was kissing the tears from his cheeks. He was on his back now, sprawled over most of the bed, and the room was lighter. It was past sunrise.
“I’m sorry.” Ianto was breathing shallowly; he sounded sincere. “I’m not coming back to Hub with you. I’m going to Glasgow. I didn’t know how else to explain...”
It made sense now: the dinner, the concert, the sex, the suitcase at the foot of the bed, Lisa‘s picture missing from the dresser. It made sense, but the memories were still floating around, leaving confusion in their wake.
Ianto got up. Jack could hear the click of the bathroom door and the clank and squeal of the pipes. He closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, Ianto was standing at the foot of the bed. He was fully dressed and holding the suitcase. His eyes were open and empty; he felt determined.
Don’t go. Jack hated to ask, because he already knew the answer.
Ianto ran a hand through his hair, his expression softened for a moment.
I have to. Sometimes, I don’t think that I put myself back together correctly. I need to figure things out, and I need to learn how to control this ability by myself. I can’t always be relying on you. I’m sorry, Jack. This doesn’t mean I care any less for you.
That made it worse. Jack turned his head to watch the curtains. They were still closed, but he imagined that he could see Cardiff through them anyways.
When he turned back, Ianto was still standing there. They stared at each other, even though one of them couldn’t see, and Jack scrubbed his hands over his face.
“This isn’t goodbye.” Jack almost didn’t recognize his own voice. This shouldn’t be so difficult.
“No. It’s not goodbye.” Ianto sounded collected. He wasn’t letting any emotions slip through the bond.
Then go, before I change my mind and stop you.
Ianto went.
Jack could hear his phone ringing from on the floor, beneath the pile of his dirty clothes, but he ignored it.
Instead, he spent the next few hours sitting in Ianto’s bed, amongst dirty sheets, staring at the closed door and willing it to open.
It never did.
***
Epilogue
Six months later.
***
Jack bounced his leg nervously; it was nine o’clock on a Saturday morning, and he was waiting in the train station.
He checked his wrist strap again. It informed him that the time was still only nine o’ one; the weather was still much to cold, and his coordinates had not changed in the last hour.
He thought about going to get another coffee, but he was afraid that all of the caffeine would make his eye twitch. His suit jacket was lying perfectly, but he smoothed it down anyways, before wiping his palms on his trousers. His palms were sweating! He was actually nervous!
Jack checked his wrist strap again. It was only nine o’ two.
He twirled the stem of the single, red rose that he had picked up on his way to the train station. Its petals were just starting to open; even cut, it should live for a few more days.
Hopefully it wasn’t too much: the suit and the flower. He didn’t even know if Ianto liked roses.
Nine o’ three. Ianto was three minutes late.
Hello. Jack stopped looking at his wristband and jerked his head upwards.
There he was. Ianto.
He didn’t look the same at all. Jack had forgotten the last time that he had seen Ianto in a t-shirt, jeans, and trainers. The trendy, wire-rimmed glasses were a new addition too.
Ianto winked. Did you miss me?
Jack wasn’t sure if the rose hit the seat or the floor when he got up. He was too busy kissing Ianto breathless to notice or care.
Yes, you fool. Of course I missed you. It was odd to feel a warm stream of affection through the bond after so long apart. Ianto pulled away first.
He picked the discarded rose up off the ground. “Is this for me?”
“Do you want it?” Jack felt silly for bringing it. He felt silly for wearing the suit that Ianto had bought for him on their last date.
“Yes.” I’ll cherish it, Jack. Thank you.
Then he smiled; it was a true smile, not the broken, faceted, shadow that they had pretended was a smile before Ianto went to Glasgow. And, it was blinding.
Jack felt his pulse race. “You put the pieces back together again.”
Ianto leaned in and kissed him, soft and sweet. His eyes blinked behind the lenses of his glasses, and Jack couldn’t put to words how relieved he was that the emptiness was gone.
“Yep. It took awhile, but I did. Now come on, I want to see if the Hub is the way that I remember it.” There was that smile again. It stopped Jack in his tracks.
“Oh, and Jack…” Ianto slapped him on the ass before picking up his suitcase and heading towards the exit. “You look good in that suit.”
***
The beginning.
Author: Anonymous
Recipient: EVERYONE!
***
Ianto leaned wearily on the conference table. His head ached. He had been working on strengthening his shields all morning with Jack-seeing how long he could keep the bond completely closed before the voices started to seep through.
Two aspirin and a cup of instant coffee, courtesy of Jack, hadn’t done anything to tame the headache, so Ianto imagined this was going to be a very long meeting.
Are you okay? Jack sounded sympathetic; they had opened the bond up enough so that he must have been feeling the echo of Ianto’s pain.
My head hurts, but I’ll be fine. It wasn’t a lie. He would be fine…after a long, hot shower, and a nap. Unfortunately, he didn’t expect either of those to be an option, at least for a little while.
Gwen was practically buzzing. She had made a breakthrough on the Pict case, but Ianto was too tired to read what it was from her thoughts.
Beside Jack, Martha didn’t look any better than he felt. Apparently her fiancé wasn’t as enamored with Wales as she’d hoped he would be. Ianto wasn’t terribly surprised. It took a special sort of person to love Cardiff.
Are you sure? I can move the meeting until later and let you take a nap? Ianto sat up. Gwen was already starting to talk. It was a little too late to push back the meeting.
It’s fine Jack. Stop mothering. Jack used the bond to make it clear that his feelings were hurt, but Ianto was feeling grumpy and ignored him.
If Gwen was right, Rebecca Johnson, the old lady’s daughter, was being held captive in her own home. It didn’t quite fit into the Pict’s pattern, at least the one that they had been working from, but it was a lot more easily believable than robbery. And it gave them an address.
Tomorrow, Gwen was going to confront Mrs. Johnson while she was at work and the children were at school. Jack and Ianto would go to the house and deal with the Pict.
Martha made it abundantly clear that she thought that was a terrible plan considering what had happened the last time Ianto had been confronted with the alien.
Hughes just sat back and watched the fireworks.
In the end, it was Jack’s decision, and Jack was right. It was the only plan that made sense. Hughes didn’t have any field experience and nobody trusted her to deal with a potentially emotionally fragile single mother.
Even if Ianto didn’t think that Hughes was completely socially inept, he didn’t think that she would be well-suited to consoling a stranger whose family had been held hostage in their own home by a mad, telepathic alien.
And Jack wanted Matha in the SUV with a full medical kit ready and waiting. He couldn’t risk her being hurt and out of commission if everything went to hell in a hand basket.
So it was decided. Everyone would stay on com, but Martha and Hughes would be backup, and Gwen would deal with the family.
Ianto was glad the meeting was over. The tension between Martha and Jack was almost thick enough to cut, and he almost hoped that one of them would get hurt just so that she would have something to do the next day. Almost.
Hughes had finally figured out what Jack’s wristband was, and her thoughts were racing so quickly down paths pertaining to how it could be fixed that it made Ianto feel dizzy. He was afraid that if he stayed in her mind too long, her wild, technical tangents would make him nauseous. He’d break the news to her later that the wristband was supposed to be broken. Maybe, Jack could let her loose on the mainframe. Gwen was right; it was acting finicky, and that would at least divert Hughes attention for a little while.
He didn’t want to go anywhere near Gwen’s thoughts, because after stumbling upon the potential answer to a question that had been plaguing them ever since they realized that the Pict’s body was gone, she was probably so pleased with herself that feeling her that happy might have actually put him in a good mood.
He didn’t want to risk that.
So, that left Jack.
And Jack was ignoring him.
***
Jack watched Ianto’s back as he left the conference room.
Gwen followed him out, still walking on a cloud after her discovery.
He understood that Martha was stressed out by the change from Unit to Torchwood and upset about her fiancé reaction to living in Cardiff, but he had had it. “Enough,” he commanded.
Martha followed his gaze. Ianto obviously hadn’t been feeling well. “I’m sorry, Jack. I get it. I don’t like the plan; you heard my complaints, but they haven’t changed your mind. The plan stays.” Jack gave her a half-hug, squeezing her shoulder as he pulled away.
“There’s no need to apologize. I respect your opinion. I just can’t think of anything better at the moment. Plus, Ianto’s in pain; I can feel it through the bond, and it’s throwing me off-center.”
Martha stood up and stretched. Her back cracked loudly, and her t-shirt rode up. Jack stared, unabashed.
“Jack!” She couldn’t help but giggle. Jack being Jack always seemed to break the tension in a room.
“What? I’m just appreciating the view.” She slapped him lightly on the back of the head and was surprised to see that not only was Hughes still in the room, the other woman was almost smiling.
“Should I leave you two alone?” Jack gaped like a fish, and Martha laughed. So there was a sense of humor under the crusty exterior.
“God no! Jack wouldn’t have any idea of what to do with a woman.” Now Hughes really was smiling. So she had heard the stories then. Jack, on the other hand, was completely silent. One would almost think that he was at a loss for words.
Martha patted him on the back as she made her way around the table.
“I know exactly what to do with a woman, Martha Jones. I’m even willing to show you. Both of you. Gwen can join in too, that is, of course, if Rhys doesn’t mind.”
Hughes had already started wheeling away, and Martha followed; she shut the door firmly behind her-leaving Jack to defend his prowess to an empty room.
Ianto was waiting just outside. “It has been a long time since Jack’s manhood has been called into question.” Martha wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, but then Ianto smiled. “Thank you. I enjoyed his moment of speechlessness.”
Whatever was wrong with Ianto before, he seemed positively chipper after that.
It was actually almost scary. It made her appreciate her own normal, loving relationship.
***
That evening, Martha and Gwen left early at Jack’s suggestion. Hughes stayed. She wasn’t tired, and the things that the Cardiff rift spit out were absolutely fascinating.
There was no point in going home to her empty apartment to watch reruns of East Enders when the Hub was so much more interesting. Only half-focusing on the intricacies of a pair of alien bagpipes, she studied Ianto out of the corner of her eye.
He was tearing the box that used to hold her hoard of alien tech. into small squares and throwing those in a large, green garbage bag. She didn’t understand why he wore suits if he was just going to sit on the floor and get the trousers all dirty.
Jack’s office was quiet, but the light was still on. She snorted, wondering if they were waiting for her to go home. As if it isn’t obvious that they are sleeping together.
Ianto looked up…it was hard to tell, but he might have been blushing.
Hughes dragged herself a little closer to her pile of gadgets. There was what looked like a Martian kitchen knife half-buried under a broken kettle and the remains of a parachute. She rubbed her thumb over the crack in the side of the kettle. I wonder what world this came from.
The knife came free with a tug. It was in good condition. A trip through space and time hadn’t done anything to dull the edge; the handle was worn but whole, and even the retracting mechanism worked well.
“Here.” She tossed the knife over the edge of the pile and towards Ianto. It bounced once before skidding to a halt by his thigh. “That should help.”
She pictured herself opening and closing the knife instead of bothering to explain how it worked. It clicked open, and she watched him slide it easily through the cardboard before returning her focus to the bagpipes.
***
Well, Jack reflected as he bent his neck to give Ianto better access and knocked a pile of papers off his desk trying to get more comfortable, if he had to be humiliated, at least he had gotten something out of it this time.
Ianto seemed to be in a much better mood.
Distantly, Jack hoped that they would make it down to the bed. He didn’t need the sleep, but Ianto did. Plus, as much as he liked his desk, a bed was always more comfortable.
Then, Ianto’s fingers were on his fly, starting to undo the buttons, and Jack stopped thinking. He scooted backwards again-still trying to get comfortable-only this time, he scooted so far that his bum slid off the other edge of the desk. He caught himself on the desk chair, which then proceeded to roll backwards and dump him on the ground.
Ianto seemed to think that the whole thing was so hilarious that he actually fell to the floor laughing. He hadn’t been able to see what was going on, but he had a good imagination.
The bond opened, and Jack had to admit that the images that Ianto sent him were amusing. He hoped that he hadn’t actually looked that comical.
He crawled around the other side of the desk so that they could lie side by side.
“I think that I might be getting a little too old for sex on that desk.” He felt Ianto’s hand brush against his own, and turned his palm upwards so that they could lace their fingers together.
“Hardly. You just need to work on being a little less distracted.” That was a challenge if Jack had ever heard one, but he doubted that either of them were really up for it at the moment. Maybe another day.
“I can’t help it.” He turned on his side so that he could give Ianto a chaste kiss. “You’re just too damn distracting.” With that he stood up and used their clasped hands to tug Ianto to his feet as well. “Come on, you. Let’s go downstairs where there’s a bed, and I don’t have to risk hurting myself any further.”
Ianto projected a stream of images of Jack falling off the bed in answer to that, but they managed to make it down the ladder, undress, and get into bed without further incident.
***
The next morning, they put Jack’s plan into action.
The house was white with a red door and window boxes full of weeds. No one had tended to them in awhile. The lights were on, but there wasn’t any movement behind the lace curtains.
Jack came up beside him and squeezed his hand. You okay?
He rested his head on Jack’s shoulder for a moment. Yeah, just nervous.
“The plan’s a good one. Everything will be over soon.” Jack sounded convincing. He even felt almost sure of their success, but Ianto couldn’t help but doubt that everything was going to be that easy.
Gwen coughed over the com, and Martha giggled. “Are you two done?” Jack played up to the audience by giving Ianto a loud, wet kiss on the cheek.
Gwen just sighed, used to Jack’s bad behavior, but Martha got out an amused “Jack!” between laughs.
Ianto appreciated attempts to lessen the tension. He only wished that they didn’t have to be at his expense. That didn’t make me feel any better, Jack.
“How about this?” Jack’s fingers under his chin urged him to turn his head.
And then Jack kissed him. Like he meant every second of it. Ianto put his arms around Jack’s neck, and Jack gripped his hips, drawing him closer. They kissed like it might be the last time, hard, deep, and passionate, and they lingered over the parting.
Ianto cupped Jack’s cheek and kissed him again. Softer.
They were both aware of the time.
Ianto wished that he could see Jack’s eyes. As it was, he settled for feeling Jack’s affection through the bond.
When this is over… Ianto rested his forehead against Jack’s. He could smell pheromones and coffee.
Anything. Jack was obviously still muddled by the kiss. Well, almost anything. His voice sounded cynical enough that Ianto smiled and pulled away.
A date. When all of this is over, promise me that we will go on a date. Jack laughed. Really laughed. The full-bodied, gut-holding sort of laugh.
And the women seemed to remember that they did indeed have work to do.
“Now are you two done?” Gwen asked, amused. Jack was too busy laughing to answer, and Ianto just didn’t feel like it.
“Yes, Mam.” Jack had finally caught his breath, and Ianto could practically feel his grin.
It would be my pleasure.
***
After that, it was down to business. Jack and Ianto went in the front door to confront the Pict while Martha waited impatiently in the SUV, and Gwen, on the other side of town, faced Rebecca.
The house was unnaturally quiet for a home with two young children. Ianto could hear the tick tock of a grandfather clock in the living room, and the creak of the floorboards underneath their feet, but that was all.
He stayed behind Jack, using the bond to help pick his way through unfamiliar surroundings.
They found her in the kitchen.
She was sitting at the table, waiting for them. She was achingly beautiful; Ianto felt the knowledge hit Jack and ignored the responding surge of desire. Her mind reached out to them.
She had found a family. They were kind to her.
But it wasn’t the same.
They couldn’t speak to her.
The loneliness was still a throbbing hole in her chest.
Ianto felt his feet move. He felt himself passing Jack and walking towards the table, as if in a dream. He heard her. He felt her.
I know you. Her voice. He had never heard anything like it. Blood was pounding in his veins; his ears were ringing. He could feel her everywhere, exploring every thought he had ever had, growing to know him in a way no one else would ever be able to.
She whispered the promise of unparalleled intimacy through his thoughts, someone who would know everything about him and love him despite it. Perhaps, love him because of it.
And in exchange, she opened up her mind.
Ianto had experienced Jack’s memories, and this wasn’t the same. She wasn’t just sharing her terror and loneliness; she was opening up her mind fully, sharing everything that she was.
Ianto saw her family, one by one, until he knew them all, and all of the emotions she associated with them. He watched her grow from a child to an adolescent-sharing her hopes, and dreams, and desires.
He experienced every happiness that she had ever known.
And, they balanced the terror and loneliness.
He embraced her. He could feel his sense of self slipping away. She was so glad to have found him; she was prepared to love him with every fiber of her being.
He was drowning under the promise of that love.
***
“Fuck!” With the Pict’s attention no longer focused on him, Jack found it much easier to break out from under her thrall.
Both of their guns were gone. Jack assumed that his had fallen to the floor, but he couldn’t spot it, and Ianto’s had slid under the table. He doubted that the Pict wouldn’t notice him trying to retrieve that.
Jack watched Ianto step into the circle of the Pict’s arms and swore again. Nothing was going according to plan!
What he could feel through the bond had trickled down to almost nothing, and Jack was afraid of what that might mean. Think. Think. Think. Bugger thinking.
“Ianto!” Ianto! Jack took all of his fear and threw it as hard as he could against the bond.
Big thoughts. Mortal terror. Jack thought about losing Ianto, about looking into his eyes and falling into the same chasm he had experienced when he met the Pict.
IANTO! He could feel his heart beating in his throat. It was the loudest sound in the room.
Ianto twitched.
He turned towards Jack’s voice.
There were tears glistening on his cheeks.
Even Jack wasn’t sure what happened next. One moment Ianto’s cheek was brushing against the Picts, their tears mingling. It looked like they would kiss.
And the next, both of them were sinking to the ground, Ianto clutching a knife that was buried hilt-deep in the Pict’s chest.
Her mouth opened, and no sound came out except for a gurgle of golden blood. Her head sagged forward onto Ianto’s shoulder, eye’s staring.
Jack felt it when she died. It was like a loud, buzzing sound in his head that suddenly just stopped.
He could think straight again.
Ianto was on the floor rocking the Pict’s dead body. Jack had to wait for Gwen to drag away the corpse while he held Ianto back.
He didn’t like the wild way that Ianto’s empty eyes moved from side to side, or the bruised feeling of the bond.
I think that it’s time for us to go home.
Ianto didn’t answer, but he let himself be half-picked-up and maneuvered out of the house and into the SUV.
***
Jack remembered Gwen explaining that Rebecca Johnson had found the Pict on her doorstep-soaked and bleeding-and taken care of her. She ate dinner with them, played games with the children; they weren’t her captives; she was their guest. They were just afraid that the neighbors would see and have her taken away by people that would possibly hurt her.
The attempted robbery had just been a misunderstanding. Her mother had seen the Pict-who had fled into the garden to hide. The police were already there by the time that she got home, so it had just been easier for Rebecca to work with the story of a failed robbery. Much easier than explaining that an alien lived in their guest room.
They mourned the Pict’s death.
Jack heard it all, but it was like a dream. He couldn’t bring himself to care about their pain. His own was to all-consuming.
It took two weeks for Ianto to recover enough to start to rebuild the shields that had been torn apart during the confrontation with the Pict.
Intellectually, Jack understood that more than Ianto’s shields had been damaged that day; his entire mind had been shattered, and Ianto had picked up the pieces, welding them back together as best he could. Jon had explained it to him the first time that Jack called Glasgow, crying and completely out of control. In his heart, he didn’t understand how Ianto could be the same and yet not.
Sometimes Jack thought that he noticed a piece missing.
Or two that hadn’t been put together in quite the right way.
Then, Ianto would smile, or laugh, or say something with his beautiful, Welsh accent, and the moment would be gone.
Martha insisted that there was nothing wrong with is Ianto’s eyes, but he still had not regained any of his sight. As for the other wounds, she said that there was nothing that she could do.
Jon offered to come to Cardiff, but Jack refused.
He didn’t want him to. Not now, not when everything still hurt so badly.
Jon offered to have Ianto come to Glasgow. Jack told Ianto about the invitation-laughing half-madly. He thought that Ianto would dismiss it immediately, but Ianto didn’t say anything. They never mentioned it again.
He acted like everything was alright. They both did. They all did. He was convinced that if he could make himself believe it, one morning he would wake up and it would be true.
As time passed, things got better.
Ianto rebuilt his shields.
The bond began to feel familiar. Or maybe Jack had just gotten used to the way that this new, different Ianto felt. Maybe he had forgotten the way that the bond was supposed to feel.
There were stretches of days where everything seemed normal, like it was before. Ianto would seem whole, and healthy, and completely himself.
The stretches never lasted more than a few days.
At some point, Jack came to terms with the fact that the stretches would probably never last more than a few days.
He tried to convince himself that it was enough.
***
Jack? He could feel Ianto in his mind, using his knowledge of the office to navigate through it and down the ladder. It was oddly reassuring.
The Hub had been quiet since that night. Jack wasn’t sure if they needed to talk about it, or, if they tried, if there would be anything to say.
“You’re brooding.” Jack smiled, and Ianto reached out to brush fingers over the curve of his lips. He didn’t bother to sit up; he didn’t even bother to open his eyes.
“A bit.” Jack moved over to give Ianto room to sit-the bed squeaking ominously.
He waited for Ianto to make another move: a kiss, a caress…nudity was always appreciated. Instead, he got a pinch in side.
Jack sat up with a start. “What the hell!” he complained.
Ianto leaned in for a kiss then. It was sweet, and lingering. And, Jack wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to think of Ianto’s mood. Sometimes he wanted to go back to those first few days of the bond.
He could read lust, hunger, and self-satisfaction off of Ianto. But, that was all.
You’re planning something. He hoped that a mental conversation would cause Ianto to let more slip.
Yep. Jack caught an image of Cardiff at night-lit up and splendid-before Ianto closed the bond to a trickle of amusement.
“Come on.” Jack swore as the elastic of his pants was snapped deftly, and a shopping bag that had been previously half-pushed under the bed was thrust into his arms.
“Get dressed, and we’ll go.” Ianto was out of the room and up the ladder faster than a blind man had any right to be.
“You’re not even going to help me?” The suit was high quality. He could already tell that it was going to fit perfectly.
Ianto sent him an image in reply to that suggestion: both of them naked and sweating, Jack blindfolded, his arms tied securely to the headboard, Ianto’s lips just slipping over the head of his erection.
“That’s cheating!” Ianto’s laughter and the clank of the coffee machine drifted down from the upper level of the Hub. It was going to be a long night.
***
It was raining when they stepped outside of the Hub. A grey drizzle blanketed the city and caught the light of the street lamps. It was just cool enough for the suit jackets to be comfortable, but not cold enough for coats.
“So,” Jack slipped into the cab as Ianto held the door for him, “where are we going?” He slid over, and Ianto got in beside him. The cab was a nice touch; they were shedding the mantle of Torchwood for the night then.
“Giovanni’s at The Hayes, please.” If they sat a little closer than chums off to meet their dates at a restaurant, the cabby didn’t seem to notice.
Italian? Jack leaned over to look out the windshield; the wipers were clicking slowly but steadily. It didn’t look like it would stop raining any time soon. Ianto was wearing a different cologne. It smelled good, like sandalwood.
I’m collecting on a promise. Ianto had crossed his arms and leaned his head back against the seat, eyes closed. You owed me a date, so I arranged one. Besides, you’ve always said you liked Italian.
Jack felt his lips twitch into a half-smile. Ianto was being feisty tonight.
So, is the chance to eat some Italian my only surprise for the night? Jack wished that Ianto could see to appreciate the full force of his leer. You look good in that suit.
Ianto was appallingly good at faking outrage, even in his thoughts. Captain, are you propositioning me?
The cab dropped them off in front of the restaurant.
Are you interested? Jack was already imagining an alley way wall against his back, Ianto kneeling in a puddle, swallowing around his cock.
Ianto didn’t bother to answer that question.
“Reservation for Jones.”
They passed two women holding hands over the table cloth, and Jack smiled at them. One of them winked back. Cheeky.
About half of the restaurant was dressed up; some of the patrons looked very attractive in their formal wear.
Jack liked looking, but no one tonight was more appealing than Ianto.
Their table was semi-secluded in a back corner. Patrons a few feet away conversed in low tones, but nobody seemed to take any notice of them. It was a nice place. The menu looked appetizing. He broadcasted his approval towards Ianto.
I like it here.
I thought you might. Ianto sounded just the smug side of pleased.
A waiter with big, brown eyes and a smile slightly too wide for his face, introduced himself and asked if they were ready to order.
I really like it here.
“A bottle of Amarone Valpolicella and two antipasto mistos to start. Then, the agnello al forno for me, and he will have the filetto tradizionale.”
Jack did his best to turn a snort into a cough. Sometimes there were downsides to this telepathic bond stuff.
“Anything else, sirs?” Jack shock his head and turned the full force of his charm on the waiter.
“No, that will be fine.” Young Anthony was blushing as he nodded and turned away.
Ianto leaned back in his chair, hands resting lightly on his thighs. Dating suited him; he looked relaxed and comfortable, and the way that his shirt stretched over his chest put Jack in mind of all the wicked things he would insist on doing once their date was over with.
“Let’s talk.” Jack had hoped that they might go shag in the toilet, but talking would do.
So they talked.
***
Ianto let Jack’s arm slip around his waist to rest a hand on his hip. He even leaned in-appreciating the warmth; it was colder now than it had been when they left the Hub. The rain had stopped, and the moon was almost full.
The front windows of shops were still lit, though their yellow light stretched and thinned into darkness. A few men were spilling out of open pub doors to laugh and smoke. Down the street, a group of drunken students stumbled along, singing.
He could imagine the way it looked, all of it, using the thoughts around him.
It still wasn’t quite as good as being able to actually see it.
Having reached a silent consensus, they veered away from the line of taxis outside of St. David’s Hall.
It had been a good concert. Ianto had spent most of the night trying to ignore Jack’s increasingly impossible sexual innuendoes, and the deluge of obscene mental images that went with them, but even Jack had quieted once the music started.
The Royal Philharmonic played beautifully.
“Thank you.” Ianto moved just far enough away to dislodge Jack’s arm, but clasped his hand, entwining their fingers instead. It was too difficult to walk when they were standing that closely together.
“You’re welcome. I thought that you might like it.” You should go more often. You don’t leave the Hub nearly enough.
Jack squeezed their clasped hands but didn’t argue.
They strolled leisurely towards Ianto’s flat, enjoying the night.
The students caught up with them at the next street light, and Jack asked them what bar they had been to. Laughing and contradicting one another, they came up with a list. They asked Jack where he was going, and he held up their clasped hands, smiling. There was a pause, then one of the students giggled and everyone laughed. Some of the braver ones shouted suggestions as they crossed the street and went in their separate directions.
Jack started to hum. Ianto listened to him, bemused. He wondered if Jack had ever been a student. It was hard to imagine Jack sitting quietly through lectures.
By the time that they reached the flat, and Ianto unlocked the door, Jack was whistling bawdy drinking songs. His neighbor was a half-deaf, little, old lady who was unlikely to complain, so Ianto let him continue unchastised.
Once the door was closed behind them, Jack’s entire manner changed.
***
Ianto barely read Jack’s intention before he was pressed up against the wall, a light switch digging into his back, and being kissed thoroughly, open-mouthed and firm.
Ianto pressed back, sliding his hands up to push Jack’s jacket off his shoulders. Jack shook the jacket the rest of the way off, and they stumbled backwards. Ianto didn’t worry about not being able to see, about running into things. The lights weren’t on; Jack couldn’t see either. And, the feel of a tongue rubbing against his own, bruising lips, and the slightly painful nip of teeth…they were so much more important.
All of his attention was focused on Jack.
They crashed through the doorway and into his bedroom. Ianto heard the door bang against the wall-bouncing twice; it sounded far away.
I’ve been thinking about this all night. Ianto felt Jack’s hands on his chest as the buttons on his shirt started to be undone; the last one clicked against the floor when the thread broke.
Jack pressed a knee between his legs, and Ianto ground against his thigh. His jacket hit the ground with a whoosh, but the shirt caught on his wrists. He had to pull it back up for them to get the buttons on the cuffs undone.
Me too. He groaned at the loss of friction, but then Jack was kneeling. Ianto could feel the heat of each exhale. Jack’s lips-he imagined them swollen and bruised-were practically touching his fly. He buried his hands in Jack’s hair as the zipper was pulled slowly downwards.
Jack lips pressed against the wet patch on the front of his briefs. Ianto held his head there for a moment, and Jack acquiesced, mouthing his erection through the fabric.
Ianto was too busy appreciating the feeling to notice Jack’s hands pushing his trousers over his hips and down his legs, until Jack urged him backwards, and he tripped-falling onto the bed.
Jack laughed; removed Ianto’s shoes and socks, and pulled the trousers the rest of the way off. You should pay more attention.
Ianto could hear Jack undress and the pause afterwards when Jack was posing despite the fact that Ianto couldn’t see him to appreciate it. He used a hundred memories of similar poses to imagine him instead: naked, his cock hard and jutting, his eyes dark with lust, and his lips twisted in a half-smile. Then you should stop distracting me.
Jack laughed, throaty and full of promises, sharing his lust until it built and crashed between them, a circle of want.
Ianto did his best to remove his underwear before Jack made it to the bed.
A good night, indeed.
***
When Jack woke up, it was to Ianto carding fingers gently through his hair. He hadn’t slept long, maybe an hour or two, but the sun was just rising. A strip of light was visible between the curtains, and the entire room was half-lit-shadows twisting whenever a breeze from the ceiling fan caught the curtains.
Ianto was breathing in time to the tick, tick, tick of his clock. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get up and go to work.
Jack turned over onto his stomach-trapping Ianto’s arm and one of his legs beneath him. “Let’s take the morning off. Gwen, Hughes, and Martha can handle the Hub without us.” Jack kissed along Ianto’s clavicle and up the side of his neck.
“Jack…” He could feel Ianto’s cock twitch against his thigh, interested.
And, then the bond opened. He could feel the desire, the affection, the sadness.
…You are checking the family, making sure that they are alright. The woman is crying silently; the man is mumbling about poor, poor, David and shaking his head. Gwen is kneeling in front of them, talking to them, touching their hands.
Something is wrong. You are running; you are drawing your gun and screaming. “Jack!”
Then there is only pain.
…You wake up. You are warm, and comfortable, and lustful. He is there with you; you can smell him.
The lust increases.
There’s a voice, darkness.
You realize that you are blind.
…You are naked and open. At your lover’s mercy. You can feel the pillows beneath your shoulders and his weight between your legs. Your eyes are open and sightless; you touch his lips, wishing you could see his smile.
You know that he is looking at you. A wave of discomfort washes over you. It’s not your own.
You close your eyes.
…You are standing in front of a beautiful alien, embracing her. Your mind is breaking into pieces and falling into hers.
Your cheeks are brushing. You are both crying.
The dagger is sharp; you slip it easily between her breasts and push it upwards.
She chokes.
You feel her dying.
“Jack.” When Jack came back to himself, Ianto was kissing the tears from his cheeks. He was on his back now, sprawled over most of the bed, and the room was lighter. It was past sunrise.
“I’m sorry.” Ianto was breathing shallowly; he sounded sincere. “I’m not coming back to Hub with you. I’m going to Glasgow. I didn’t know how else to explain...”
It made sense now: the dinner, the concert, the sex, the suitcase at the foot of the bed, Lisa‘s picture missing from the dresser. It made sense, but the memories were still floating around, leaving confusion in their wake.
Ianto got up. Jack could hear the click of the bathroom door and the clank and squeal of the pipes. He closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, Ianto was standing at the foot of the bed. He was fully dressed and holding the suitcase. His eyes were open and empty; he felt determined.
Don’t go. Jack hated to ask, because he already knew the answer.
Ianto ran a hand through his hair, his expression softened for a moment.
I have to. Sometimes, I don’t think that I put myself back together correctly. I need to figure things out, and I need to learn how to control this ability by myself. I can’t always be relying on you. I’m sorry, Jack. This doesn’t mean I care any less for you.
That made it worse. Jack turned his head to watch the curtains. They were still closed, but he imagined that he could see Cardiff through them anyways.
When he turned back, Ianto was still standing there. They stared at each other, even though one of them couldn’t see, and Jack scrubbed his hands over his face.
“This isn’t goodbye.” Jack almost didn’t recognize his own voice. This shouldn’t be so difficult.
“No. It’s not goodbye.” Ianto sounded collected. He wasn’t letting any emotions slip through the bond.
Then go, before I change my mind and stop you.
Ianto went.
Jack could hear his phone ringing from on the floor, beneath the pile of his dirty clothes, but he ignored it.
Instead, he spent the next few hours sitting in Ianto’s bed, amongst dirty sheets, staring at the closed door and willing it to open.
It never did.
***
Epilogue
Six months later.
***
Jack bounced his leg nervously; it was nine o’clock on a Saturday morning, and he was waiting in the train station.
He checked his wrist strap again. It informed him that the time was still only nine o’ one; the weather was still much to cold, and his coordinates had not changed in the last hour.
He thought about going to get another coffee, but he was afraid that all of the caffeine would make his eye twitch. His suit jacket was lying perfectly, but he smoothed it down anyways, before wiping his palms on his trousers. His palms were sweating! He was actually nervous!
Jack checked his wrist strap again. It was only nine o’ two.
He twirled the stem of the single, red rose that he had picked up on his way to the train station. Its petals were just starting to open; even cut, it should live for a few more days.
Hopefully it wasn’t too much: the suit and the flower. He didn’t even know if Ianto liked roses.
Nine o’ three. Ianto was three minutes late.
Hello. Jack stopped looking at his wristband and jerked his head upwards.
There he was. Ianto.
He didn’t look the same at all. Jack had forgotten the last time that he had seen Ianto in a t-shirt, jeans, and trainers. The trendy, wire-rimmed glasses were a new addition too.
Ianto winked. Did you miss me?
Jack wasn’t sure if the rose hit the seat or the floor when he got up. He was too busy kissing Ianto breathless to notice or care.
Yes, you fool. Of course I missed you. It was odd to feel a warm stream of affection through the bond after so long apart. Ianto pulled away first.
He picked the discarded rose up off the ground. “Is this for me?”
“Do you want it?” Jack felt silly for bringing it. He felt silly for wearing the suit that Ianto had bought for him on their last date.
“Yes.” I’ll cherish it, Jack. Thank you.
Then he smiled; it was a true smile, not the broken, faceted, shadow that they had pretended was a smile before Ianto went to Glasgow. And, it was blinding.
Jack felt his pulse race. “You put the pieces back together again.”
Ianto leaned in and kissed him, soft and sweet. His eyes blinked behind the lenses of his glasses, and Jack couldn’t put to words how relieved he was that the emptiness was gone.
“Yep. It took awhile, but I did. Now come on, I want to see if the Hub is the way that I remember it.” There was that smile again. It stopped Jack in his tracks.
“Oh, and Jack…” Ianto slapped him on the ass before picking up his suitcase and heading towards the exit. “You look good in that suit.”
***
The beginning.