fic: cutting in
title: Cutting in
characters: Jack/Ianto, Owen
words: 1745
rating: PG
note: This has to be the first time I’ve written something that isn’t for the HP fandom. Shocking! Go me for branching out a bit? This must be evidence I am obsessed with Torchwood if I’m writing fanfic for it! Spoilers for episode 2x09 Something Borrowed. My interpretation of the dance scene accompanied by silly dialogue :D
Cutting in
Ianto tapped the microphone.
“Would the owner of a blue Peugeot, registration number BD18 RTD, please move their vehicle immediately as it is blocking an emergency exit and is liable to be towed away. Thank you.”
He was enjoying this far too much.
After Mervin, Minister of Sound, got devoured by a carnivorous alien shape-shifter, the wedding was missing a DJ. And guess who’d been lumbered with the job? Ianto, who frankly had better things to do like eat wedding cake or exchange drunken champagne kisses with Jack tucked away in an unlit corner. The team (bar Ianto) had agreed he would be the perfect stand-in after deducing he had the best taste in music. After all, Ianto Jones knows everything, therefore he knows what records are good; knows what records are utterly appalling and should be flung into the Cardiff Rift never to be heard again.
The joke was on the rest of the team, though, because surprisingly Ianto learned it was quite enjoyable behind the decks, if not lonely. It wasn’t long before he got genuinely engrossed in the music, clutching headphones to his ears as he bobbed his head up and down like the professionals did at discos...
“Having fun, Tintin?”
Ianto froze on the spot and met Owen with a halfhearted glare. He would have given Owen a wholehearted one but he felt guilty being mean to the dead. He sighed yet again at the sight of Owen’s casual clothes for the billionth time that night. He really wished Owen had changed; he could have borrowed one of Ianto’s emergency suits kept in Jack’s office.
“Owen, if I did own a dog, I would not be shagging it,” Ianto made clear, unhappy being called after one of his childhood heroes if Owen believed the character was having a sexual relationship with his pet dog Snowy.
“What do you call that drooling puppy over there then?” Owen tilted his head in the direction of a brooding Jack. Ianto rolled his eyes familiarly at the doctor, sifting through jumbled CDs and putting them in correct order.
“You’re really getting into this,” Owen gestured to the decks. “I suppose it's a step up from your teaboy position. Thinking of quitting Torchwood and becoming a disc jockey?”
Ianto smirked, downing another glass of champagne.
“And be my own boss? Then who would I shag?”
Owen laughed faintly. “I thought it wasn’t like that, you and Jack…”
“It isn’t,” Ianto said at once, but yet again he was unwilling to shed light to Owen on what exactly he and Jack were when he wasn't even sure himself. He looked down, tracing the edge of a CD with his finger as he felt Jack’s stare on him. Ianto's gaze met upwards again when Owen asked him a startling question.
“Can I, uh, request a song?”
Ianto resisted the urge to scoff. “I’m not sure if I should take requests from the dead,” he teased Owen. “How about ‘Staying Alive’ by the Bee Gees?”
“Funny, Jones. Just put on something by Paul Weller for me.”
“Say please,” Ianto dared him.
“Just do it, DJ Prick.”
Ianto laughed quietly as Owen stalked off.
He found a few songs by Paul Weller, but one stood out in particular, a song that captured his feelings for Jack in such a way he wondered if Paul had written it especially for them. When ‘You do something to me’ floated out of the speakers several moments later, Owen shot Ianto the smallest of grateful smiles, and much to Ianto’s surprise, asked a delighted Tosh to dance. Ianto was strangely proud of Owen, and over the moon for Tosh.
A few more couples drifted onto the dancefloor, including newlyweds Rhys and Gwen. When Ianto looked at how happy they were in each other’s arms, he couldn’t help but think of Lisa. There’d been a time he imagined he’d marry her one day…
Enough, Ianto berated himself, pushing Lisa to the back of his mind.
All of a sudden, he spotted Jack stand up from his table and make his way towards the front of the room. Ianto beamed appreciatively, Jack a welcomed distraction. All night he'd been expecting Jack to apologize for his sulking and finally ask him to dance. Ianto went to remove the headphones from around his neck-
Oh.
Jack wanted to dance with Gwen.
Of course Jack wanted to dance with Gwen.
A last goodbye dance, Ianto set his mind at rest, but gazing upon the spectacle that was Jack and Gwen staring deep into one another's eyes, he wasn't so sure of himself, frowning into his glass of champagne. He knocked back another drink, feeling like a fool and not knowing quite sure why. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but he overheard Gwen and Jack talking...
“What will you do while I’m gone?”
“The usual. Pizza, Ianto…” He heard the distinct sound of giggles. “Save the world a couple of times.”
Ianto lifted an eyebrow at that. Was that list in order of importance?
After too much bubbly he was starting to wallow in his own self-pity, a dangerous road to go down. Every member of Torchwood was dancing but him, and here he was again, left to do chores while the others relaxed and unwound. He was going to get a damn dance - just one - with the person he cared about the most in this room, even if the bastard didn't deserve it.
Having enough of the role of the forgotten, forlorn disc jockey, he left the decks, wandered over to the Best Man and tapped his shoulder.
“Excuse me, banana in pyjamas?”
“It’s Banana Boat.”
Ianto knew his nickname had something to do with bananas.
“Do you mind taking over the decks for a minute?”
“Sure, mate, no problem! Banana’s on it!”
Ianto offered his replacement a few kind words of advice.
“Sir, may I recommend you don’t play Gwen Stefani’s ‘Hollaback girl’ and sing ‘let me hear you say, this shit is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S’ at the top of your voice over the record, as nobody will find it funny but you.”
He patted a bewildered Banana Boat’s shoulder and left him with a pair of headphones. A few moments later he sought out Jack and Gwen on the dancefloor.
“May I, er…”
How had Jack found it so easy to cut between Gwen and Rhys without feeling awkward? Neither Jack nor Gwen had noticed Ianto yet, which was beyond irritating when he was standing beside them like a lost lemon. He wondered, if Jack found his Welsh vowels so beautiful, shouldn’t Jack have looked at him the moment he spoke?
The knot in Ianto’s stomach grew bigger and bigger the longer he was ignored, until he took a deep breath and politely cleared his throat. At long last they became aware of his presence and pulled apart. And then Gwen was gone, back to Rhys, the love of her life, and Ianto was left with his. For a split second Ianto panicked, remembering he’d never danced with a man before. But he relaxed when Jack took the lead and pulled Ianto into his strong, familiar arms, and Ianto found it wasn’t that much different from dancing with a woman. They swayed back and forth to the music, Jack's mouth touching the lobe of Ianto's ear.
“Sorry for cutting in,” Ianto apologized huskily. “I wasn’t interrupting a moment, was I?”
Jack squeezed Ianto’s hand that was in his palm held against his chest like a life support.
“No, you weren’t,” Jack put him at ease. “I’m grateful you cut in; she kept stepping on my toes…”
“She didn’t once step on your toes; I was monitoring you both,” Ianto replied quietly and guiltily, as though he’d been spying on them on CCTV. “Jack, look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to be the man taking her on honeymoon.”
Their feet stilled. Jack pulled away from Ianto just enough to get a better look at his face, one of suspense. Looking Ianto straight in the eye, Jack spoke in a soft but resolute voice, “I don’t want to be the man taking Gwen on honeymoon.” What he said next sounded almost pleading. “Believe me, Ianto.”
Silence stretched between them. Eventually, Ianto nodded, and whatever tension there had previously been disappeared.
“I believe you,” Ianto murmured, breaking into a warm smile after allowing Jack to nuzzle his neck.
Jack used that alluring voice of his well-known in his office when he and Ianto were alone and Owen wasn’t interrupting them to show what disgusting thing he’d sliced out of an alien that day, “I want to be the man taking you on honeymoon.”
“But we’re not married,” Ianto pointed out as they carried on dancing.
“All in due time, Ianto Jones,” Jack whispered low in his ear.
Ianto removed Jack’s hand that had deviously made its way to his rear and placed it on the small of his back again.
“You’re outrageous,” mumbled Ianto, glowing like a blushing bride. Jack chuckled softly at him.
“Earlier, with Gwen, I was listing all the great things about Rhys,” Jack said. “I told her he was the perfect husband. He’s loyal, brave-”
“It sounds like you want to take him on honeymoon-”
“Ianto,” Jack growled, and Ianto pretended as though he’d been put in his place and kept quiet so Jack could finish whatever point he was trying to make.
“He’s loyal, brave,” he repeated again. “Has one hell of a swing on him.” His eyes twinkled brightly. “Don’t those good qualities sound awfully familiar?”
“I do hope you’re not talking about yourself, sir,” Ianto said, but he knew he was referring to really, flattered. “Though you are all those things,” he added.
“You pack a much better punch than me though,” Jack said, and Ianto normally wasn’t one to boast but around someone as accomplished Captain Jack Harkness there was little to brag about, so he nodded in agreement.
“Best of all,” Jack carried on, “Rhys really loves Gwen.”
Like I really love you, Ianto thought. He didn't need to hear the words back, and he had no intention on voicing the avowal. If Jack hadn’t realized by then Ianto's feelings for him, he had to be really dense, and there simply had to be more to the Captain than good looks.
“Gwen and I are extremely lucky to have such special men in our lives,” Jack went on gently.
“You are,” Ianto agreed without skipping a beat. “Now, about your To-Do List,” he brought up, wrapping his arms snugly around the Captain’s neck, and Jack tutted at him.
“You eavesdropped.”
“You talk too loud,” Ianto replied cleverly. “So, I come before saving the world yet after pizza?”
characters: Jack/Ianto, Owen
words: 1745
rating: PG
note: This has to be the first time I’ve written something that isn’t for the HP fandom. Shocking! Go me for branching out a bit? This must be evidence I am obsessed with Torchwood if I’m writing fanfic for it! Spoilers for episode 2x09 Something Borrowed. My interpretation of the dance scene accompanied by silly dialogue :D
Cutting in
Ianto tapped the microphone.
“Would the owner of a blue Peugeot, registration number BD18 RTD, please move their vehicle immediately as it is blocking an emergency exit and is liable to be towed away. Thank you.”
He was enjoying this far too much.
After Mervin, Minister of Sound, got devoured by a carnivorous alien shape-shifter, the wedding was missing a DJ. And guess who’d been lumbered with the job? Ianto, who frankly had better things to do like eat wedding cake or exchange drunken champagne kisses with Jack tucked away in an unlit corner. The team (bar Ianto) had agreed he would be the perfect stand-in after deducing he had the best taste in music. After all, Ianto Jones knows everything, therefore he knows what records are good; knows what records are utterly appalling and should be flung into the Cardiff Rift never to be heard again.
The joke was on the rest of the team, though, because surprisingly Ianto learned it was quite enjoyable behind the decks, if not lonely. It wasn’t long before he got genuinely engrossed in the music, clutching headphones to his ears as he bobbed his head up and down like the professionals did at discos...
“Having fun, Tintin?”
Ianto froze on the spot and met Owen with a halfhearted glare. He would have given Owen a wholehearted one but he felt guilty being mean to the dead. He sighed yet again at the sight of Owen’s casual clothes for the billionth time that night. He really wished Owen had changed; he could have borrowed one of Ianto’s emergency suits kept in Jack’s office.
“Owen, if I did own a dog, I would not be shagging it,” Ianto made clear, unhappy being called after one of his childhood heroes if Owen believed the character was having a sexual relationship with his pet dog Snowy.
“What do you call that drooling puppy over there then?” Owen tilted his head in the direction of a brooding Jack. Ianto rolled his eyes familiarly at the doctor, sifting through jumbled CDs and putting them in correct order.
“You’re really getting into this,” Owen gestured to the decks. “I suppose it's a step up from your teaboy position. Thinking of quitting Torchwood and becoming a disc jockey?”
Ianto smirked, downing another glass of champagne.
“And be my own boss? Then who would I shag?”
Owen laughed faintly. “I thought it wasn’t like that, you and Jack…”
“It isn’t,” Ianto said at once, but yet again he was unwilling to shed light to Owen on what exactly he and Jack were when he wasn't even sure himself. He looked down, tracing the edge of a CD with his finger as he felt Jack’s stare on him. Ianto's gaze met upwards again when Owen asked him a startling question.
“Can I, uh, request a song?”
Ianto resisted the urge to scoff. “I’m not sure if I should take requests from the dead,” he teased Owen. “How about ‘Staying Alive’ by the Bee Gees?”
“Funny, Jones. Just put on something by Paul Weller for me.”
“Say please,” Ianto dared him.
“Just do it, DJ Prick.”
Ianto laughed quietly as Owen stalked off.
He found a few songs by Paul Weller, but one stood out in particular, a song that captured his feelings for Jack in such a way he wondered if Paul had written it especially for them. When ‘You do something to me’ floated out of the speakers several moments later, Owen shot Ianto the smallest of grateful smiles, and much to Ianto’s surprise, asked a delighted Tosh to dance. Ianto was strangely proud of Owen, and over the moon for Tosh.
A few more couples drifted onto the dancefloor, including newlyweds Rhys and Gwen. When Ianto looked at how happy they were in each other’s arms, he couldn’t help but think of Lisa. There’d been a time he imagined he’d marry her one day…
Enough, Ianto berated himself, pushing Lisa to the back of his mind.
All of a sudden, he spotted Jack stand up from his table and make his way towards the front of the room. Ianto beamed appreciatively, Jack a welcomed distraction. All night he'd been expecting Jack to apologize for his sulking and finally ask him to dance. Ianto went to remove the headphones from around his neck-
Oh.
Jack wanted to dance with Gwen.
Of course Jack wanted to dance with Gwen.
A last goodbye dance, Ianto set his mind at rest, but gazing upon the spectacle that was Jack and Gwen staring deep into one another's eyes, he wasn't so sure of himself, frowning into his glass of champagne. He knocked back another drink, feeling like a fool and not knowing quite sure why. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but he overheard Gwen and Jack talking...
“What will you do while I’m gone?”
“The usual. Pizza, Ianto…” He heard the distinct sound of giggles. “Save the world a couple of times.”
Ianto lifted an eyebrow at that. Was that list in order of importance?
After too much bubbly he was starting to wallow in his own self-pity, a dangerous road to go down. Every member of Torchwood was dancing but him, and here he was again, left to do chores while the others relaxed and unwound. He was going to get a damn dance - just one - with the person he cared about the most in this room, even if the bastard didn't deserve it.
Having enough of the role of the forgotten, forlorn disc jockey, he left the decks, wandered over to the Best Man and tapped his shoulder.
“Excuse me, banana in pyjamas?”
“It’s Banana Boat.”
Ianto knew his nickname had something to do with bananas.
“Do you mind taking over the decks for a minute?”
“Sure, mate, no problem! Banana’s on it!”
Ianto offered his replacement a few kind words of advice.
“Sir, may I recommend you don’t play Gwen Stefani’s ‘Hollaback girl’ and sing ‘let me hear you say, this shit is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S’ at the top of your voice over the record, as nobody will find it funny but you.”
He patted a bewildered Banana Boat’s shoulder and left him with a pair of headphones. A few moments later he sought out Jack and Gwen on the dancefloor.
“May I, er…”
How had Jack found it so easy to cut between Gwen and Rhys without feeling awkward? Neither Jack nor Gwen had noticed Ianto yet, which was beyond irritating when he was standing beside them like a lost lemon. He wondered, if Jack found his Welsh vowels so beautiful, shouldn’t Jack have looked at him the moment he spoke?
The knot in Ianto’s stomach grew bigger and bigger the longer he was ignored, until he took a deep breath and politely cleared his throat. At long last they became aware of his presence and pulled apart. And then Gwen was gone, back to Rhys, the love of her life, and Ianto was left with his. For a split second Ianto panicked, remembering he’d never danced with a man before. But he relaxed when Jack took the lead and pulled Ianto into his strong, familiar arms, and Ianto found it wasn’t that much different from dancing with a woman. They swayed back and forth to the music, Jack's mouth touching the lobe of Ianto's ear.
“Sorry for cutting in,” Ianto apologized huskily. “I wasn’t interrupting a moment, was I?”
Jack squeezed Ianto’s hand that was in his palm held against his chest like a life support.
“No, you weren’t,” Jack put him at ease. “I’m grateful you cut in; she kept stepping on my toes…”
“She didn’t once step on your toes; I was monitoring you both,” Ianto replied quietly and guiltily, as though he’d been spying on them on CCTV. “Jack, look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to be the man taking her on honeymoon.”
Their feet stilled. Jack pulled away from Ianto just enough to get a better look at his face, one of suspense. Looking Ianto straight in the eye, Jack spoke in a soft but resolute voice, “I don’t want to be the man taking Gwen on honeymoon.” What he said next sounded almost pleading. “Believe me, Ianto.”
Silence stretched between them. Eventually, Ianto nodded, and whatever tension there had previously been disappeared.
“I believe you,” Ianto murmured, breaking into a warm smile after allowing Jack to nuzzle his neck.
Jack used that alluring voice of his well-known in his office when he and Ianto were alone and Owen wasn’t interrupting them to show what disgusting thing he’d sliced out of an alien that day, “I want to be the man taking you on honeymoon.”
“But we’re not married,” Ianto pointed out as they carried on dancing.
“All in due time, Ianto Jones,” Jack whispered low in his ear.
Ianto removed Jack’s hand that had deviously made its way to his rear and placed it on the small of his back again.
“You’re outrageous,” mumbled Ianto, glowing like a blushing bride. Jack chuckled softly at him.
“Earlier, with Gwen, I was listing all the great things about Rhys,” Jack said. “I told her he was the perfect husband. He’s loyal, brave-”
“It sounds like you want to take him on honeymoon-”
“Ianto,” Jack growled, and Ianto pretended as though he’d been put in his place and kept quiet so Jack could finish whatever point he was trying to make.
“He’s loyal, brave,” he repeated again. “Has one hell of a swing on him.” His eyes twinkled brightly. “Don’t those good qualities sound awfully familiar?”
“I do hope you’re not talking about yourself, sir,” Ianto said, but he knew he was referring to really, flattered. “Though you are all those things,” he added.
“You pack a much better punch than me though,” Jack said, and Ianto normally wasn’t one to boast but around someone as accomplished Captain Jack Harkness there was little to brag about, so he nodded in agreement.
“Best of all,” Jack carried on, “Rhys really loves Gwen.”
Like I really love you, Ianto thought. He didn't need to hear the words back, and he had no intention on voicing the avowal. If Jack hadn’t realized by then Ianto's feelings for him, he had to be really dense, and there simply had to be more to the Captain than good looks.
“Gwen and I are extremely lucky to have such special men in our lives,” Jack went on gently.
“You are,” Ianto agreed without skipping a beat. “Now, about your To-Do List,” he brought up, wrapping his arms snugly around the Captain’s neck, and Jack tutted at him.
“You eavesdropped.”
“You talk too loud,” Ianto replied cleverly. “So, I come before saving the world yet after pizza?”