Fic: This Jack, That Jack
Title: This Jack, That Jack
Author: cookielaura
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Wordcount: 1000
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Very mild language, mild sex references
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its characters are not mine, and I'm not making any money from this
Notes: This was written for the final round of torchwood_las. The prompts were Celebrations and a Timepiece (watch, clock etc). I won, which was very exciting and unexpected, and is my first fic-or-journal-related win of any kind! (It also means I get a banner, hooray!) Comments are love.
Ianto can’t be sure. He has his suspicions, but they’re as vague as they are persistent. Even after they solidify into something resembling a theory, there’s no safe way to test it, no way to check without risking everything. Still, he wonders.
----
The first time he senses something is different is on his birthday, his first at Torchwood Three. Tosh organises a meal to celebrate, and Jack makes his excuses - lame, work-based excuses that nobody buys. That’s not unusual though; Jack doesn’t do birthdays. Owen maintains that it’s because he’s a miserable prick, but Ianto assumes it’s because Jack doesn’t want to think about everyone aging around him, destined to grow old and die whilst he remains the same.
The unusual part comes later, when Ianto is at his flat, replete after an evening of quality Indian food. There’s a knock on the door, tentative at first and then determined. It’s Jack, leaning against his doorpost with studied casualness and a pre-prepared smile.
‘Ianto,’ he says, oddly breathless, and something flickers over his face as their eyes lock. Then Jack breaks the gaze abruptly and slips past Ianto, entering the flat as if he belongs there.
‘I wasn’t expecting you tonight,’ Ianto says, and instantly regrets it - Jack will think he isn’t pleased to see him. But Jack just smiles again and shrugs, as if he’s surprised himself by coming too. Ianto grins back. It’s awkward, but nice.
‘I wanted to give you your birthday present,’ Jack says, reaching into his coat pocket and retrieving a small parcel.
Ianto is certain that his shock is showing on his face, partly from the way his cheeks tingle with heat, and partly from Jack’s fondly amused gaze. Jack hasn’t looked at him like that before, at least not that he’s noticed, and it throws him as much as the present.
‘Open it,’ Jack urges, impatient, so Ianto does, carefully unfolding the paper whilst they stand in the hallway. The gift takes his breath away. It is a watch, finer than any he’s owned before, with a shimmering silver face and a butter-soft strap in dark grey Italian leather. It is perfect. Anything from Jack would have been wonderful, but this is...more. He places it carefully on the side table and then pushes forward, nudging Jack back into the wall and pressing his lips to Jack’s in thanks.
Jack freezes.
It only lasts for a moment, but Ianto feels it - Jack’s body tensing up under his hands, his muscles taught, his mouth hard and unyielding, as though he is shocked by the kiss, as though he has forgotten how to be kissed. A second later it’s as though it never happened; Jack’s lips soften whilst his body melts into Ianto’s and Ianto manoeuvres them both down the hall to the bedroom.
They’ve had sex before, but it’s never been like this. Jack has never been so gentle, so reverent, so determined to run his tongue and trace his fingers over every part of Ianto’s body from his earlobes to his toes. It is overwhelming. It is, Ianto thinks, the first time they’ve made love.
Afterwards, Jack strokes his hand over Ianto’s chest and starts to speak, stops, and starts again. ‘You shouldn’t tell the others I brought a gift. They’ll all be wanting one.’
Ianto smiles gently up at him. ‘We’ll never speak of it again,’ he replies, and the relief in Jack’s eyes is distinct. They fall asleep together, but Jack is gone by morning. Jack doesn’t comment - doesn’t even show a flicker of recognition - when Ianto wears the watch, and the next time they have sex, it’s just sex.
----
Ianto gets used to Jack behaving erratically. Most of the time he knows where he stands, and it’s in a not-quite-relationship consisting primarily of quickies in the archives. After Jack returns from his sojourn with the Doctor, there are occasional date-nights too, dinners filled with superficial banter and, sometimes, a rare truthful conversation in the afterglow.
But now and again, Jack will turn up at the flat unexpectedly when Ianto had assumed he was working late, and blow him away with his tenderness and his willingness to sit and talk for hours, asking questions about Ianto’s views on everything under the sun seemingly just to hear him talk. It’s on these days that Ianto wonders.
This Jack is so different. Quieter, more tired, more wistful. In a way he seems wiser, and even older, if that is possible. And Ianto doesn't know, isn’t sure he wants to know, what gets into Jack on these days, why Jack suddenly seems to cherish him to a degree Ianto can hardly comprehend, and then reverts to normal the next day. He never asks though, and something in the back of his mind stops him from referring to these moments whilst Jack is in one of his more everyday moods.
----
One evening with this more thoughtful Jack, Ianto makes a mistake. He is sitting on his sofa with Jack’s head in his lap, sifting Jack’s hair gently through his fingers, when he notices the grey. It’s just a couple of strands of silver but he mentions them teasingly - it looks like Jack is aging after all - and Jack’s whole body stiffens in response.
‘Thanks for telling me. I’ll get the hair dye out later,’ Jack says, tightly, and for a moment Ianto assumes he’s just sensitive about his looks. But Jack can’t relax afterwards, and it’s not long before he leaves. As he does, he holds Ianto’s hands tightly and gazes at him for a long, heavy moment before brushing their lips together and disappearing down the street.
The next day, when Ianto comments lightly on how well the dye has worked, Jack looks at him as though he’s lost his mind. ‘What dye?’ he asks, and Ianto shuts up.
After that, there are no more surprise visits.
Ianto misses them, misses that Jack. And he wonders.
But he can’t be sure.
Author: cookielaura
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Wordcount: 1000
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Very mild language, mild sex references
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its characters are not mine, and I'm not making any money from this
Notes: This was written for the final round of torchwood_las. The prompts were Celebrations and a Timepiece (watch, clock etc). I won, which was very exciting and unexpected, and is my first fic-or-journal-related win of any kind! (It also means I get a banner, hooray!) Comments are love.
Ianto can’t be sure. He has his suspicions, but they’re as vague as they are persistent. Even after they solidify into something resembling a theory, there’s no safe way to test it, no way to check without risking everything. Still, he wonders.
----
The first time he senses something is different is on his birthday, his first at Torchwood Three. Tosh organises a meal to celebrate, and Jack makes his excuses - lame, work-based excuses that nobody buys. That’s not unusual though; Jack doesn’t do birthdays. Owen maintains that it’s because he’s a miserable prick, but Ianto assumes it’s because Jack doesn’t want to think about everyone aging around him, destined to grow old and die whilst he remains the same.
The unusual part comes later, when Ianto is at his flat, replete after an evening of quality Indian food. There’s a knock on the door, tentative at first and then determined. It’s Jack, leaning against his doorpost with studied casualness and a pre-prepared smile.
‘Ianto,’ he says, oddly breathless, and something flickers over his face as their eyes lock. Then Jack breaks the gaze abruptly and slips past Ianto, entering the flat as if he belongs there.
‘I wasn’t expecting you tonight,’ Ianto says, and instantly regrets it - Jack will think he isn’t pleased to see him. But Jack just smiles again and shrugs, as if he’s surprised himself by coming too. Ianto grins back. It’s awkward, but nice.
‘I wanted to give you your birthday present,’ Jack says, reaching into his coat pocket and retrieving a small parcel.
Ianto is certain that his shock is showing on his face, partly from the way his cheeks tingle with heat, and partly from Jack’s fondly amused gaze. Jack hasn’t looked at him like that before, at least not that he’s noticed, and it throws him as much as the present.
‘Open it,’ Jack urges, impatient, so Ianto does, carefully unfolding the paper whilst they stand in the hallway. The gift takes his breath away. It is a watch, finer than any he’s owned before, with a shimmering silver face and a butter-soft strap in dark grey Italian leather. It is perfect. Anything from Jack would have been wonderful, but this is...more. He places it carefully on the side table and then pushes forward, nudging Jack back into the wall and pressing his lips to Jack’s in thanks.
Jack freezes.
It only lasts for a moment, but Ianto feels it - Jack’s body tensing up under his hands, his muscles taught, his mouth hard and unyielding, as though he is shocked by the kiss, as though he has forgotten how to be kissed. A second later it’s as though it never happened; Jack’s lips soften whilst his body melts into Ianto’s and Ianto manoeuvres them both down the hall to the bedroom.
They’ve had sex before, but it’s never been like this. Jack has never been so gentle, so reverent, so determined to run his tongue and trace his fingers over every part of Ianto’s body from his earlobes to his toes. It is overwhelming. It is, Ianto thinks, the first time they’ve made love.
Afterwards, Jack strokes his hand over Ianto’s chest and starts to speak, stops, and starts again. ‘You shouldn’t tell the others I brought a gift. They’ll all be wanting one.’
Ianto smiles gently up at him. ‘We’ll never speak of it again,’ he replies, and the relief in Jack’s eyes is distinct. They fall asleep together, but Jack is gone by morning. Jack doesn’t comment - doesn’t even show a flicker of recognition - when Ianto wears the watch, and the next time they have sex, it’s just sex.
----
Ianto gets used to Jack behaving erratically. Most of the time he knows where he stands, and it’s in a not-quite-relationship consisting primarily of quickies in the archives. After Jack returns from his sojourn with the Doctor, there are occasional date-nights too, dinners filled with superficial banter and, sometimes, a rare truthful conversation in the afterglow.
But now and again, Jack will turn up at the flat unexpectedly when Ianto had assumed he was working late, and blow him away with his tenderness and his willingness to sit and talk for hours, asking questions about Ianto’s views on everything under the sun seemingly just to hear him talk. It’s on these days that Ianto wonders.
This Jack is so different. Quieter, more tired, more wistful. In a way he seems wiser, and even older, if that is possible. And Ianto doesn't know, isn’t sure he wants to know, what gets into Jack on these days, why Jack suddenly seems to cherish him to a degree Ianto can hardly comprehend, and then reverts to normal the next day. He never asks though, and something in the back of his mind stops him from referring to these moments whilst Jack is in one of his more everyday moods.
----
One evening with this more thoughtful Jack, Ianto makes a mistake. He is sitting on his sofa with Jack’s head in his lap, sifting Jack’s hair gently through his fingers, when he notices the grey. It’s just a couple of strands of silver but he mentions them teasingly - it looks like Jack is aging after all - and Jack’s whole body stiffens in response.
‘Thanks for telling me. I’ll get the hair dye out later,’ Jack says, tightly, and for a moment Ianto assumes he’s just sensitive about his looks. But Jack can’t relax afterwards, and it’s not long before he leaves. As he does, he holds Ianto’s hands tightly and gazes at him for a long, heavy moment before brushing their lips together and disappearing down the street.
The next day, when Ianto comments lightly on how well the dye has worked, Jack looks at him as though he’s lost his mind. ‘What dye?’ he asks, and Ianto shuts up.
After that, there are no more surprise visits.
Ianto misses them, misses that Jack. And he wonders.
But he can’t be sure.