Fic: The Oncoming Storm (Slash, AU, Janto 31/40 Act 1/5)
Author: d8rkmessngr
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: Mentions suicide/ self harm themes. Gratuitous smut ahead.
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are parallels to TW's "Out of Time" , "Fragments" and if you really squint, "Combat"
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18. Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 31 "Combat"
Act I
Christmas Day
It was back.
The odd beat that imitated the other which thrummed inside him and overwhelmed everything yet this one was steadier, calmer, and more reassuring.
Steady, measured thumps beat soothingly under his ear and spread warmth throughout his body. It felt strange. Alien, even. It lulled him into a sense of peace that he couldn't get even in death.
An arm was snaked around his back and between his shoulder blades. He could feel a hand over his shirt, stroking him with fine-boned fingers in lazy circles as if he or she wasn't aware of doing it. Another arm, coming from the other direction, rested on his lower back. He was encircled, his own arms around a slim body with his right arm growing numb under the other's weight, yet he didn't feel trapped or have the inclination to move.
Jack now recognized the loose embrace as Ianto's and found for the first time, in waking up to something so solid, so cocooning, that he didn't want to move. He reveled in the feeling.
It wasn't like he'd never woken up with Ianto beside him before. They seemed to work much too late the past few weeks. Ianto almost always ended up spending the night in the Hub instead of making the trek back to his place. They both agreed it was safer for Ianto than driving back.
The duvet that was pulled over him slipped down his back. Ianto made a sleepy mumble of protest. He wiggled closer to Jack, his arms tighter as he soaked up Jack's body heat.
Jack ducked his head into the hollow formed between their bodies and found himself staring at the pale, elegant ridge of Ianto's collarbone and the dip the two sides made just below his Adam's apple. Jack blew softly at the sensitive skin there and watched the Adam's apple bob when Ianto swallowed. Jack shifted and interestingly enough, the rhythm in his ear went a little faster. He fidgeted, unsure what to make of it.
"Hm…'ack…" Ianto's chest rumbled during his drowsy sigh.
Jack blinked; the vibration under him was a lot more pleasant than he thought it could be. Jack closed his eyes; he couldn't believe how tired he still was. What day was it anyway?
Something curdled in his stomach. Jack lay still, trying to calm his breathing as memory-God, did he really?-flooded back with vicious detail.
What the hell was he thinking? Stupid bastard.
The taste of dark memory was still sour in his mouth. It was like it still held the tang of far more alcohol than any normal human being can consume. He hadn't had this much to drink since 1899. Waking up in an alley with a bottle embedded in your abdomen can sober one up very quickly. Especially with Alice Guppy and Emily Holroyd of Torchwood lurking nearby. That had cured him of thirty years worth of heavy drinking, blind fucking, and deliberate gunplay to his skull.
Jack pressed his mouth thin. He wondered if there was any mention of that in Torchwood's archives. He wondered if Ianto, while down in the belly of Torchwood ever came across Jack's tarnished past before he was recruited into Torchwood.
There was a lump in his throat. Jack swallowed hard and rested his forehead against the bony ridge of Ianto's shoulder. Ianto, eyes still shut, mumbled under his breath and his shoulders hunched around Jack.
Jack stared at Ianto's neckline, the worn white cotton fabric dipped around a graceful, pale throat with a sprinkle of stubble that tickled his brow each time Ianto nuzzled him in his sleep, as if checking he was still here. The neckline of the soft undershirt was low enough to hint at the lightly furred chest underneath.
Alice had visited his delirium after Grey's appearance, her face all bloodied, hair pinned and in place, her eyes still as dark, proud, and mischievous as he remembered. Her…enthusiasm for her duty for her Queen was sometimes disconcerting-and a little freaky-but Jack couldn't fault her loyalty to Emily either. She died a mere week after Emily, killing the same creature that had killed her lover. Jack revived in time to see her charging it with only a blunt dagger, a blood garbled warrior cry that would have made her a heroine in Boeshane.
There were three other regimes in Torchwood before Jack was reunited with the Doctor. He'd survived invasions, two wars, three plagues before the Doctor came back for him.
Ianto said he came back for him as well.
Absently, Jack curled a finger around the hem of Ianto's shirt. It seemed easier to lie here when Ianto was asleep; easier to pretend everything was okay. He could tell himself this was just a stolen moment between two ordinary people and that he wasn't holding onto Ianto with the irrational fear he'd plummet into a yawning pit if he didn't. It was easy to disillusion himself he was just lying here, after a night of lovemaking, not awake because of the memories of too much death, but because life was so full and grand.
The reality of why he was here, however, was hard to ignore. Shame and inward anger churned and pulled his chest muscles so taut, he could barely breathe. Idiot, Jack spat mentally. How useless was that? Jack could only imagine what Ianto found and he was grateful it was only Ianto who had found him. Wouldn't do for everyone to find the leader of Torchwood Three bleeding out a mess in the Hub; already bad enough that Ianto had found him. It didn't escape Jack's attention that Ianto was now clutching him like a hard won prize, holding onto him with an almost childlike fear of it being taken away.
He replayed what Ianto had said before over and over in his mind, a mantra of his own choosing. The viselike grip around his chest loosened and he took a large gulp of air. His eyelids grew heavy yet he doubted sleep would return. It never did. But Jack didn't feel the urge to leave either, or check the Hub, or ponder on the state of the Rift. He didn't want to go anywhere. Jack wanted to stay here, where it didn't feel like time existed. Time here didn't flow in any direction. It collected between them like a warm pool that settled in Jack's chest and belly.
He knew this feeling; once before when a body against him would dissolve time into a soundless, painless vacuum. He once knew this feeling. It was vague yet familiar like a face seen in passing, his or her name escaping memory.
Ianto stirred against Jack. He mumbled something, his chin rubbing Jack's temple like a caress. Ianto's hands flexed, his fingers pressing down in a gentle knead on Jack’s lower back before stilling. Then, he settled back to sleep, his fingers curled to loosely grasp the back of Jack's shirt.
The room quieted down to Ianto's exhales and the rustle of cotton against cotton. Outside-still dim in the twilight of either a new day or the demise of an old one-shed little light through the blinds. The duvet lay heavy and hot over their legs tangled together with a familiarity borne from many nights sleeping together on Jack's narrower bunk.
Jack tilted his head, rocking into Ianto's chest and felt the other respond with sleepy, feather-like kisses to his temple, a warm, sleepy body lined up with his to fit like a puzzle piece. Ear planted over Ianto's heart, Jack listened to the beat of pure, unblemished life singing inside Ianto. And suddenly Jack realized what the strange rhythm was.
Ianto's heartbeat.
Jack choked back what tasted suspiciously like a sob and buried his face into Ianto's shoulder.
"S'alright," Ianto slurred, never fully rousing but his hands automatically seeking Jack, his fingers twisted around Jack's shirt, sleep-heavy words barely coherent but their intent clear as Ianto huddled closer to Jack before stilling. He sighed, his breath warm and familiar against Jack's face. Ianto's chest rose gently, his hands never letting go of Jack's shirt. Ianto's legs brushed against Jack, his flat stomach breathing against Jack's body.
Time failed to intrude between them. Sound died outside the bedroom. Memory…memory faded to a comfortable hazy darkness. Pain suffocated in here. No one asked him for anything here. No one lurked in wait to cut him to bits, shred him into the filth he sometimes felt he was. Here, it was just IantoIantoIanto beating along with his timeless heart. It said nothing else.
This…this was the kind of forever Jack had always wanted.
Jack dropped his head onto the shoulder below him and felt cradled.
It took Jack by surprise when he actually drifted back into a sort of limbo between sleep and sluggish awareness. Ianto's fingers languidly massaged his back; it was the hypnotic tempo that put him in this strange yet comfortably serene state. It was dreamless and waking up from it left him oddly lethargic and content.
But then, a shrill chirp warbled outside the bedroom.
Jack frowned, his face squashed against Ianto's throat and, frankly, he wasn't in the mood to find out what that was. He didn't smell smoke, no one was yelling fire, and Ianto's heat was much too inviting to leave. No, whatever that was, Jack decided sleepily, it could go away. He scrunched up his face, breathed in Ianto's scent and told whatever that was to stop.
Except it didn't.
It persisted, long enough to start echoing in Jack's ears even when he surreptitiously yanked the duvet higher over his head and Ianto's shoulders. Muffled, it was still grating enough that Jack couldn't recapture that hazy, warm and sleepy sensation. The more it rang, the more awake he became.
"Blast," Ianto suddenly groaned. He threw an arm over his eyes. "Damn it, Maygan…"
"What," Jack whimpered as he rocked his head against Ianto's shoulder, "is that?"
"My mobile," Ianto grumbled. He curled around Jack, his head dropping on top of Jack's. His hands moved up as if to cover his ears. It must have been meant to be a melody except the notes were unearthly. His teeth ached as he listened to what sounded like a dolphin chirping off-key.
"That is not a mobile," Jack whined. Ianto agreed by burrowing deeper into the duvet. His bare foot rubbed at Jack's exposed ankles. His toes dug into Jack's calves; his nose smashed against Jack's ear.
"That's a Weevil doing Amy Winehouse," Jack managed despite the fact Ianto's feet was doing unbelievable things to his body.
"My niece was playing with my mobile," Ianto mumbled, his face buried in Jack's hair. "Crazy Frog's her favorite ringtone."
The cacophony of chirps and yodeling whistles rose for a brief second then thankfully died.
The two men collectively breathed a sigh of relief.
Ianto chuckled. His hands moved-to Jack's disappointment-to scrub his face. "My niece is too clever at times," Ianto groaned behind his hands. "She must have changed my ringtones for everyone."
"Might have been something important," Jack sighed, his chest tightening. He made as if to move, but Ianto tsked and threw a leg over him, his right hand reaching out to grab his t-shirt.
"Nope," Ianto replied drowsily as he pulled Jack back down. Bare feet and long, smooth legs rubbed along his body. "I have your mobile right here by the bed. If it was important, yours would have alerted us."
"Oh." That was good enough for Jack. "Okay." He settled back against Ianto with a happy sigh. He felt tired, drained, and far too numb to care what might be happening out there.
And then, Ianto's mobile rang again.
Simultaneously, they both moaned.
"Get the mobile," Jack grumbled, not moving from his sprawl that fitted him perfectly against Ianto, his groin tucked inside Ianto's hip. He could feel Ianto breathing against him. Jack knew he must be crushing the younger man, but Ianto never complained.
"You get it," Ianto returned in a sleepy, petulant voice.
"Why should I get it?"
"For prematurely graying my hair and scaring me out of my wits before, you should get it." Ianto growled.
"How about a blowjob instead?" Jack bargained, cringing at the wheedling tone in his own voice.
"And how is that suppose to be a punishment?" Ianto complained.
"You're not giving me the blowjob?"
Ianto blindly stuck an arm out of the duvet and tried to swat Jack's hair. He missed.
The mobile silenced.
"It stopped," Jack muffled over Ianto's shoulder. Thank God. A bony elbow prodded him.
"Brilliant deduction, Harkness," Ianto griped. "That might have been important."
"Thought you said if it was important, they would have called me?"
Ianto groaned and thumped his pillow. "Shut up," he said good-naturedly. After a moment, Ianto raised his head, lifting himself up partway, and considered Jack.
Jack rolled onto his back. He frowned at Ianto's intense gaze. "What?"
Cool lips brushed across his brow. Jack blinked.
"No fever," Ianto explained, looking pleased. He double-checked with the back of his hand, nodding at whatever he found. "I was concerned when it took a while."
It would have been easier to let him die, Jack almost replied, the response at the tip of his tongue. But it didn't seem like Ianto would have appreciated that answer so Jack just shrugged.
Ianto looked like he wanted to say something more but instead, he just dropped back onto the bed with a soft grunt. He curled a hand around Jack's right arm. He just gave the arm a brief squeeze before releasing it. He settled his head against Jack's shoulder.
"What day is it?" Jack asked when the silence grew too long.
"Christmas," Ianto replied in a faint voice that told Jack he was starting to drift back to sleep already. "It's ten past nine actually.
Jack stared at the ceiling. "There's still time then," he said slowly.
"Time for what?" Ianto mumbled. He rolled until his cheek was resting against Jack's upper arm. His hand drifted lower and brushed across Jack's upper thigh like a sable brush. His palm settled just right of his groin.
If he kept his eyes on the ceiling, Jack found it easier to speak. "You could probably head back over to have Christmas dinner with your family. Spend the rest of the holiday with them." What Ianto should have done instead of coming back.
Ianto turned to his side facing Jack and dropped his right arm across Jack's body.
"No, thank you," Ianto yawned. He drew lazy circles on Jack's stomach before settling down again. "I don't think I want to move right now," Ianto slurred, his body practically draped across Jack.
Actually, Jack didn't think he could either.
Ianto scraped his teeth gingerly on Jack's shoulder, never biting, but giving Jack a sharper reminder than a kiss to point out that Ianto was here. His left leg settled between Jack's. The heat of Ianto's hip pressed deliciously on Jack's groin.
"Am I too heavy?" Ianto murmured, his body blanketing Jack, his arms absently wrapping around Jack's shoulders. He kissed Jack's collarbone.
Jack rested his chin on Ianto's hair. Ianto just sighed. "No," Jack confessed quietly, surprising himself. "Not heavy at all."
Act II
Additional Notes: Many thanks to soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: Mentions suicide/ self harm themes. Gratuitous smut ahead.
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are parallels to TW's "Out of Time" , "Fragments" and if you really squint, "Combat"
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18. Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 31 "Combat"
Act I
Christmas Day
It was back.
The odd beat that imitated the other which thrummed inside him and overwhelmed everything yet this one was steadier, calmer, and more reassuring.
Steady, measured thumps beat soothingly under his ear and spread warmth throughout his body. It felt strange. Alien, even. It lulled him into a sense of peace that he couldn't get even in death.
An arm was snaked around his back and between his shoulder blades. He could feel a hand over his shirt, stroking him with fine-boned fingers in lazy circles as if he or she wasn't aware of doing it. Another arm, coming from the other direction, rested on his lower back. He was encircled, his own arms around a slim body with his right arm growing numb under the other's weight, yet he didn't feel trapped or have the inclination to move.
Jack now recognized the loose embrace as Ianto's and found for the first time, in waking up to something so solid, so cocooning, that he didn't want to move. He reveled in the feeling.
It wasn't like he'd never woken up with Ianto beside him before. They seemed to work much too late the past few weeks. Ianto almost always ended up spending the night in the Hub instead of making the trek back to his place. They both agreed it was safer for Ianto than driving back.
The duvet that was pulled over him slipped down his back. Ianto made a sleepy mumble of protest. He wiggled closer to Jack, his arms tighter as he soaked up Jack's body heat.
Jack ducked his head into the hollow formed between their bodies and found himself staring at the pale, elegant ridge of Ianto's collarbone and the dip the two sides made just below his Adam's apple. Jack blew softly at the sensitive skin there and watched the Adam's apple bob when Ianto swallowed. Jack shifted and interestingly enough, the rhythm in his ear went a little faster. He fidgeted, unsure what to make of it.
"Hm…'ack…" Ianto's chest rumbled during his drowsy sigh.
Jack blinked; the vibration under him was a lot more pleasant than he thought it could be. Jack closed his eyes; he couldn't believe how tired he still was. What day was it anyway?
Something curdled in his stomach. Jack lay still, trying to calm his breathing as memory-God, did he really?-flooded back with vicious detail.
What the hell was he thinking? Stupid bastard.
The taste of dark memory was still sour in his mouth. It was like it still held the tang of far more alcohol than any normal human being can consume. He hadn't had this much to drink since 1899. Waking up in an alley with a bottle embedded in your abdomen can sober one up very quickly. Especially with Alice Guppy and Emily Holroyd of Torchwood lurking nearby. That had cured him of thirty years worth of heavy drinking, blind fucking, and deliberate gunplay to his skull.
Jack pressed his mouth thin. He wondered if there was any mention of that in Torchwood's archives. He wondered if Ianto, while down in the belly of Torchwood ever came across Jack's tarnished past before he was recruited into Torchwood.
There was a lump in his throat. Jack swallowed hard and rested his forehead against the bony ridge of Ianto's shoulder. Ianto, eyes still shut, mumbled under his breath and his shoulders hunched around Jack.
Jack stared at Ianto's neckline, the worn white cotton fabric dipped around a graceful, pale throat with a sprinkle of stubble that tickled his brow each time Ianto nuzzled him in his sleep, as if checking he was still here. The neckline of the soft undershirt was low enough to hint at the lightly furred chest underneath.
Alice had visited his delirium after Grey's appearance, her face all bloodied, hair pinned and in place, her eyes still as dark, proud, and mischievous as he remembered. Her…enthusiasm for her duty for her Queen was sometimes disconcerting-and a little freaky-but Jack couldn't fault her loyalty to Emily either. She died a mere week after Emily, killing the same creature that had killed her lover. Jack revived in time to see her charging it with only a blunt dagger, a blood garbled warrior cry that would have made her a heroine in Boeshane.
There were three other regimes in Torchwood before Jack was reunited with the Doctor. He'd survived invasions, two wars, three plagues before the Doctor came back for him.
Ianto said he came back for him as well.
Absently, Jack curled a finger around the hem of Ianto's shirt. It seemed easier to lie here when Ianto was asleep; easier to pretend everything was okay. He could tell himself this was just a stolen moment between two ordinary people and that he wasn't holding onto Ianto with the irrational fear he'd plummet into a yawning pit if he didn't. It was easy to disillusion himself he was just lying here, after a night of lovemaking, not awake because of the memories of too much death, but because life was so full and grand.
The reality of why he was here, however, was hard to ignore. Shame and inward anger churned and pulled his chest muscles so taut, he could barely breathe. Idiot, Jack spat mentally. How useless was that? Jack could only imagine what Ianto found and he was grateful it was only Ianto who had found him. Wouldn't do for everyone to find the leader of Torchwood Three bleeding out a mess in the Hub; already bad enough that Ianto had found him. It didn't escape Jack's attention that Ianto was now clutching him like a hard won prize, holding onto him with an almost childlike fear of it being taken away.
He replayed what Ianto had said before over and over in his mind, a mantra of his own choosing. The viselike grip around his chest loosened and he took a large gulp of air. His eyelids grew heavy yet he doubted sleep would return. It never did. But Jack didn't feel the urge to leave either, or check the Hub, or ponder on the state of the Rift. He didn't want to go anywhere. Jack wanted to stay here, where it didn't feel like time existed. Time here didn't flow in any direction. It collected between them like a warm pool that settled in Jack's chest and belly.
He knew this feeling; once before when a body against him would dissolve time into a soundless, painless vacuum. He once knew this feeling. It was vague yet familiar like a face seen in passing, his or her name escaping memory.
Ianto stirred against Jack. He mumbled something, his chin rubbing Jack's temple like a caress. Ianto's hands flexed, his fingers pressing down in a gentle knead on Jack’s lower back before stilling. Then, he settled back to sleep, his fingers curled to loosely grasp the back of Jack's shirt.
The room quieted down to Ianto's exhales and the rustle of cotton against cotton. Outside-still dim in the twilight of either a new day or the demise of an old one-shed little light through the blinds. The duvet lay heavy and hot over their legs tangled together with a familiarity borne from many nights sleeping together on Jack's narrower bunk.
Jack tilted his head, rocking into Ianto's chest and felt the other respond with sleepy, feather-like kisses to his temple, a warm, sleepy body lined up with his to fit like a puzzle piece. Ear planted over Ianto's heart, Jack listened to the beat of pure, unblemished life singing inside Ianto. And suddenly Jack realized what the strange rhythm was.
Ianto's heartbeat.
Jack choked back what tasted suspiciously like a sob and buried his face into Ianto's shoulder.
"S'alright," Ianto slurred, never fully rousing but his hands automatically seeking Jack, his fingers twisted around Jack's shirt, sleep-heavy words barely coherent but their intent clear as Ianto huddled closer to Jack before stilling. He sighed, his breath warm and familiar against Jack's face. Ianto's chest rose gently, his hands never letting go of Jack's shirt. Ianto's legs brushed against Jack, his flat stomach breathing against Jack's body.
Time failed to intrude between them. Sound died outside the bedroom. Memory…memory faded to a comfortable hazy darkness. Pain suffocated in here. No one asked him for anything here. No one lurked in wait to cut him to bits, shred him into the filth he sometimes felt he was. Here, it was just IantoIantoIanto beating along with his timeless heart. It said nothing else.
This…this was the kind of forever Jack had always wanted.
Jack dropped his head onto the shoulder below him and felt cradled.
It took Jack by surprise when he actually drifted back into a sort of limbo between sleep and sluggish awareness. Ianto's fingers languidly massaged his back; it was the hypnotic tempo that put him in this strange yet comfortably serene state. It was dreamless and waking up from it left him oddly lethargic and content.
But then, a shrill chirp warbled outside the bedroom.
Jack frowned, his face squashed against Ianto's throat and, frankly, he wasn't in the mood to find out what that was. He didn't smell smoke, no one was yelling fire, and Ianto's heat was much too inviting to leave. No, whatever that was, Jack decided sleepily, it could go away. He scrunched up his face, breathed in Ianto's scent and told whatever that was to stop.
Except it didn't.
It persisted, long enough to start echoing in Jack's ears even when he surreptitiously yanked the duvet higher over his head and Ianto's shoulders. Muffled, it was still grating enough that Jack couldn't recapture that hazy, warm and sleepy sensation. The more it rang, the more awake he became.
"Blast," Ianto suddenly groaned. He threw an arm over his eyes. "Damn it, Maygan…"
"What," Jack whimpered as he rocked his head against Ianto's shoulder, "is that?"
"My mobile," Ianto grumbled. He curled around Jack, his head dropping on top of Jack's. His hands moved up as if to cover his ears. It must have been meant to be a melody except the notes were unearthly. His teeth ached as he listened to what sounded like a dolphin chirping off-key.
"That is not a mobile," Jack whined. Ianto agreed by burrowing deeper into the duvet. His bare foot rubbed at Jack's exposed ankles. His toes dug into Jack's calves; his nose smashed against Jack's ear.
"That's a Weevil doing Amy Winehouse," Jack managed despite the fact Ianto's feet was doing unbelievable things to his body.
"My niece was playing with my mobile," Ianto mumbled, his face buried in Jack's hair. "Crazy Frog's her favorite ringtone."
The cacophony of chirps and yodeling whistles rose for a brief second then thankfully died.
The two men collectively breathed a sigh of relief.
Ianto chuckled. His hands moved-to Jack's disappointment-to scrub his face. "My niece is too clever at times," Ianto groaned behind his hands. "She must have changed my ringtones for everyone."
"Might have been something important," Jack sighed, his chest tightening. He made as if to move, but Ianto tsked and threw a leg over him, his right hand reaching out to grab his t-shirt.
"Nope," Ianto replied drowsily as he pulled Jack back down. Bare feet and long, smooth legs rubbed along his body. "I have your mobile right here by the bed. If it was important, yours would have alerted us."
"Oh." That was good enough for Jack. "Okay." He settled back against Ianto with a happy sigh. He felt tired, drained, and far too numb to care what might be happening out there.
And then, Ianto's mobile rang again.
Simultaneously, they both moaned.
"Get the mobile," Jack grumbled, not moving from his sprawl that fitted him perfectly against Ianto, his groin tucked inside Ianto's hip. He could feel Ianto breathing against him. Jack knew he must be crushing the younger man, but Ianto never complained.
"You get it," Ianto returned in a sleepy, petulant voice.
"Why should I get it?"
"For prematurely graying my hair and scaring me out of my wits before, you should get it." Ianto growled.
"How about a blowjob instead?" Jack bargained, cringing at the wheedling tone in his own voice.
"And how is that suppose to be a punishment?" Ianto complained.
"You're not giving me the blowjob?"
Ianto blindly stuck an arm out of the duvet and tried to swat Jack's hair. He missed.
The mobile silenced.
"It stopped," Jack muffled over Ianto's shoulder. Thank God. A bony elbow prodded him.
"Brilliant deduction, Harkness," Ianto griped. "That might have been important."
"Thought you said if it was important, they would have called me?"
Ianto groaned and thumped his pillow. "Shut up," he said good-naturedly. After a moment, Ianto raised his head, lifting himself up partway, and considered Jack.
Jack rolled onto his back. He frowned at Ianto's intense gaze. "What?"
Cool lips brushed across his brow. Jack blinked.
"No fever," Ianto explained, looking pleased. He double-checked with the back of his hand, nodding at whatever he found. "I was concerned when it took a while."
It would have been easier to let him die, Jack almost replied, the response at the tip of his tongue. But it didn't seem like Ianto would have appreciated that answer so Jack just shrugged.
Ianto looked like he wanted to say something more but instead, he just dropped back onto the bed with a soft grunt. He curled a hand around Jack's right arm. He just gave the arm a brief squeeze before releasing it. He settled his head against Jack's shoulder.
"What day is it?" Jack asked when the silence grew too long.
"Christmas," Ianto replied in a faint voice that told Jack he was starting to drift back to sleep already. "It's ten past nine actually.
Jack stared at the ceiling. "There's still time then," he said slowly.
"Time for what?" Ianto mumbled. He rolled until his cheek was resting against Jack's upper arm. His hand drifted lower and brushed across Jack's upper thigh like a sable brush. His palm settled just right of his groin.
If he kept his eyes on the ceiling, Jack found it easier to speak. "You could probably head back over to have Christmas dinner with your family. Spend the rest of the holiday with them." What Ianto should have done instead of coming back.
Ianto turned to his side facing Jack and dropped his right arm across Jack's body.
"No, thank you," Ianto yawned. He drew lazy circles on Jack's stomach before settling down again. "I don't think I want to move right now," Ianto slurred, his body practically draped across Jack.
Actually, Jack didn't think he could either.
Ianto scraped his teeth gingerly on Jack's shoulder, never biting, but giving Jack a sharper reminder than a kiss to point out that Ianto was here. His left leg settled between Jack's. The heat of Ianto's hip pressed deliciously on Jack's groin.
"Am I too heavy?" Ianto murmured, his body blanketing Jack, his arms absently wrapping around Jack's shoulders. He kissed Jack's collarbone.
Jack rested his chin on Ianto's hair. Ianto just sighed. "No," Jack confessed quietly, surprising himself. "Not heavy at all."
Act II
Additional Notes: Many thanks to soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.