Fic: The Oncoming Storm (Slash, AU, Janto 31/40 Act 2/5)
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, Ch 31 Act 1/5,
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 31 "Combat"
Act II
"…Ianto either."
Gwen spared a glance over to Emma. She couldn't help herself but smile when Rhys, despite still being mad at her, was willing to put up the final decorations on the tree. He frowned when her mobile rang, but then Emma asked about that odd ornament they had bought last year and he began reminiscing. He looked wistful when he spoke about simpler times; when Gwen was still just ordinary PC Gwen Cooper.
She only sometimes resents him for that.
Rhys glanced up, a chuckle dying on his lips when his eyes fell upon her. A pang settled in her chest when he averted his gaze. If he was mad now…
"Gwen?"
"Still here," Gwen hastened to say, swallowing. "You've tried the Hub, you say?"
Tosh, even with her usual mild demeanor, sounded a bit worried over the line. "Twice. It's not a Weevil alert either. We would have all gotten alerts."
Gwen nodded and smiled faintly when Rhys looked over again. "I didn't receive anything. Did Owen?" She had been tempted to call the doctor all day yesterday, even if just to hear him prattle on about the commercialism of the holiday. Gwen couldn't, however, bring herself to do it with Emma and Rhys around. And the more she stared at Rhys, the more Gwen felt horrible for even thinking about calling Owen. What the hell are you doing, Gwen Cooper?
Tosh gave a surprisingly rude snort. "Him? He's too busy with-Never mind. I know Ianto is probably with family. I tried calling twice but it went to his voicemail."
That wasn't like Ianto either. She'd always thought Ianto was much more fastidious than the rest of them, but he was dedicated to Torchwood at least. Gwen frowned. She hoped he was okay. The holidays can be very hard on those suffering a loss.
"Try Jack's mobile once more and I'll try Ianto's," Gwen advised, not really worried. "I'm sure they're fine." It was Christmas, after all.
What could happen?
When Ianto's mobile rang again like a basket of strangled cats, Ianto poked his head out of the mound of covers.
"Ianto." Jack's drowsy whine was coming from somewhere in the vicinity of Ianto's stomach and under the duvet. Ianto caught a glimpse of Jack's foot before it scurried back under the covers.
"It's back." Ianto could see Jack's pale blue eyes squinting out of the dark folds of the duvet. Ianto couldn't see the rest of him-though he could feel a good, wonderful part of him-but the pout was audible.
It was the last time he ever lent a child his mobile to play with. Never again. He should have heeded Bryce's warning against giving Maygan the device.
Crazy Frog sang and sang uncaringly. Ianto thought he could feel his teeth dissolving.
Jack groaned, his disheveled head popping out of the duvet tangled around them, his hair sticking out in all directions. He squinted in the general direction of the ringing. "I think it's an alien trying to communicate. Kill it."
Ianto pondered his options-leave the warm spot Jack's body had created in his bed or stay and hear his brains boil in his skull. He mournfully looked at Jack's torso, the shirt twisted around and giving him glimpses of that tempting firm stomach that quivered whenever he thrust deep into-
"It's not stopping," Jack dropped back on the bed. "Where's a compact laser deluxe when you need one?"
A compact what? Ianto prodded Jack with an elbow. "You were a time traveler, weren't you?"
"So?"
"Shouldn't you time travelers have telepathy or telekinesis? Use the bloody force on it, Harkness!"
Jack looked at him, completely baffled. "And force it to do what?"
Ianto scoffed in disbelief. "You know about Winehouse but not Star Wars?"
The mobile kept ringing.
"Go away!" Jack abruptly growled in a way that always made Ianto's toes curl hearing it. The tingling feeling died when he caught Jack tossing something white across the bedroom, something white and-
"Did you just throw your shorts at it?" Ianto gawked at the tousled dark head burying itself facedown on a pillow.
"What makes you think that?" Jack asked, his voice low. He squirmed and-
Ianto gulped. "Tell me that's your finger poking me."
"It's my finger." Jack sounded a little too smug, a little too husky.
"Are you lying?"
"Very." Another poke.
"Well," Ianto said as steady as he could. He was beginning to sweat; his palms were starting to itch. "Since you're up…" Ianto ignored the barely stifled snicker. "The least you could do is get that."
"Fine," Jack grumbled. He rubbed his face into Ianto's throat and Ianto shivered. "But what should I say about why I'm answering your-"
Argh. Good point. "I'll get it, I'll get it," Ianto grumbled. Jack half-heartedly waved a fist above the blankets in victory then burrowed back into the covers.
Ianto sat up, feeling a little disgruntled and a little uncombed. But then he looked at Jack, curled around the spot Ianto had just vacated, more asleep than awake, his face peaceful after having been so long twisted from nightmares. His chest swelled. Impulsively, he dropped a kiss on top Jack's hair and wished it hadn't elicited such a surprised start from Jack. It felt natural somehow to do that. "Be back in a tick," Ianto murmured and pried himself away with a groan.
The mobile rang insistently as he padded out of the bedroom, absently scratching his stomach under his shirt. Ianto wished it would just go to voicemail, but obviously someone wanted him desperately.
Not bothering to check the display, Ianto fumbled it out of his jacket and folded sloppily over the couch.
"Ianto Jones," he said with a yawn, mobile pinned between his shoulder and left ear, his eyes on his jacket as he draped it properly over a chair so it wouldn't wrinkle.
"Happy Christmas, Ianto."
Brilliant. Ianto bit back a groan. "Gwen," he greeted between clenched teeth. He suspected she was just checking up on him. She'd been doting since Lisa, since the Beacons. He couldn't fault her most of the time. She reminded him of Sioned. "Happy Christmas to you, too. Everything alright?"
"Everything's fine. How's your holiday so far?"
"Fine. Yours?"
Oh, big mistake. Ianto made random non-committal sounds as she eagerly began talking about holiday shopping with Emma, Rhys trying to cook the turkey, someone named Banana Boat-Banana Boat?-giving them very strong eggnog, etcetera, etcetera.
During Gwen's cheerful recount, Ianto could hear the shower running. He spied Jack's shorts, thrown at a very impressive distance by the foot of the couch. He thought about Jack in his shower, naked. He sat on the top edge of his couch and crossed his legs.
"…find Jack anywhere."
Ianto jerked away from the image of soapy water trailing down Jack's supple spine and the back of his long legs. "What?" he asked stupidly.
Gwen didn't notice as she chuckled at something she saw on her end. "No, Emma, he shouldn't be eating that! Hm? Oh, yes. Tosh tried Jack's mobile and the Hub's direct line. Thought I would check with you. Emma's mentioned it and I thought it might be a brilliant idea, if Jack doesn't mind that is, maybe we should invite John Ellis over for the holiday-"
"John Ellis is dead."
Ianto didn't mean to blurt it out in a jumble, but he panicked when Gwen mentioned her wonderful idea.
The mobile fell into stunned silence. There were sounds of Gwen telling Rhys she was taking the call out in the hall and hurried footsteps.
"How?" Gwen was suddenly very serious.
Ianto pinched a spot between his eyes. "Suicide. My car."
Gwen cursed. She lowered her voice further.
"How's Jack?" Gwen paused before adding, "They had seemed to hit it off before. Being from, you know, another time. Jack had high hopes he would be okay."
Ianto sighed wearily. He could still hear the shower but thoughts of Jack now turned somber. "He was…disappointed."
Gwen exhaled loudly by his ear. "Poor Jack."
Ianto nodded glumly. "I don't think we should say anything to Emma or Ms. Holmes just yet."
"God, no. Not on Christmas." Gwen audibly brightened. "Maybe we should invite Jack over here for Christmas then. I'm sure Emma will welcome the company-she's so impressionable though…No matter, I'm sure we-"
"Actually," Ianto interrupted. "Jack's with me."
"With you?" Gwen echoed. "With your family?" She sounded aghast.
Ianto didn't know why she sounded so horrified. It irked him. Would it have been so terrible if Jack had gone with him?
"No," Ianto said evenly. "In my flat. I came back early to the Hub. He's staying with me."
"Oh," Gwen digested. "…You alright?"
"Yes," Ianto couldn't help snapping. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Nothing, nothing," Gwen soothed. She fumbled out her explanation. "Just wanted to be sure you weren't uncomfortable with Jack there. I mean, I know you and Jack in the past were…about Lisa…I mean he was so mad…you both looked like you were doing better though."
Ianto rolled his eyes, but he calmed down. "We're fine." He smiled sadly. "We've worked past that a long time ago."
"So, you're friends then?" Gwen sounded so relieved.
You could say that, Ianto thought wryly. "Yes," he said out loud. "We'll be fine."
"Okay, love. But if you need anything or want us to take Jack for a spell-"
"See you tomorrow, Gwen," Ianto said firmly. God, she made Jack sound like a stray puppy.
Gwen reluctantly bid him farewell and ended the call.
"You didn't tell her."
Ianto turned at the subdued tone. Jack stood there, hair damp, looking almost small in his cotton undershirt and trousers and bare feet.
"Wasn't my place to tell," Ianto told him solemnly. He nodded towards Jack's outfit. "I see you found the trousers."
Jack shrugged and gestured towards himself. "Thanks for cleaning them. You didn't have to."
"There was blood on them," Ianto said before he pivoted on his heel and steered for the kitchen. "Sit. I'll heat something up. There's-"
"Actually, I was thinking about heading back to Torchwood," Jack cut him off.
Ianto's hands balled into fists to quell the panic bubbling up his throat. "We just missed breakfast time, but we could have an early lunch, then dinner. I was thinking-"
"There's still time to head back to your family," Jack pointed out. "It's Christmas."
Ianto abruptly spun around and marched right up to Jack. Jack looked surprised when Ianto jabbed a finger in his chest.
"You're not going back to Torchwood and I'm not going back home either."
Jack's eyes softened. His hands dropped on Ianto's shoulders. "Don't worry," Jack assured him. "I won't try anything." He made a self-deprecating laugh. "I mean, what's the point, right?"
"If that's supposed to make me feel better," Ianto spoke low and thin. "It didn't." He reached up and wrapped his hands around Jack's wrists. He still remembered seeing the lines of dry, crusted blood and the blunted scalpels discarded on the infirmary floor. Ianto squeezed the wrists on his shoulders. "When's the last time you've eaten?"
Jack's brow knitted together. "Uh…with John, I think, when he came over to talk." Jack shrugged.
Ianto's stomach clenched. "Sit down," he pleaded. Ianto pulled down Jack's hands and guided him to the couch. "Just stay here." At Jack's doubtful frown, Ianto added a soft, "Please."
An odd look flitted across Jack's face before he nodded.
The lost and uncertain look beckoned. It ached to see Jack like this. Ianto smashed his lips against Jack's mouth, just to give himself a reminder that Jack was still here, alive. He felt the older man tense, then relax into it, his lips parting, his arms slipping around Ianto's middle, lowering until his hands cupped Ianto's buttocks over his sweats.
Large hands gently squeezed and kneaded him through his jogging pants. Ianto moaned into Jack's mouth. He pressed closer and felt a hard response grinding into his hip. Ianto shifted his hips and whimpered as his own swollen need bumped against Jack's.
It was frantic, nothing graceful or gentle as they both clutched folds of fabric, heated skin rubbing against each other as their hips crashed against each other and shirts were yanked up. Jack's hands, Christ, his beautiful hands, roamed all over him before resting around the back of his neck, cradling Ianto's head as he nipped and licked Ianto's jaw and throat.
Ianto didn't waste time exploring; he knew what he wanted and where to get it. His hands deftly unbuttoned Jack’s flies, Jack wiggling impatiently until the trousers slithered down a few inches of bare, firm flesh. Ianto slipped a hand past Jack's waistband, past silken skin still flushed from the shower. He could feel the thump-thump of life on the artery that ran along the inside of Jack's thigh. Ianto only thrilled briefly in the fact that Jack wore no underwear, leaving Jack's buttocks ready for his hands.
Jack groaned out Ianto's name when Ianto ghosted a finger over his entrance but he didn't push through; he didn't want to cause Jack pain. He wouldn't be like him. Ianto smoothed his palm over and over the curve of one cheek, squeezing and lingering over velvety skin like he was polishing fine glass.
The couch was just behind them, he thought fuzzily. One push, a quick tug at his captain's waistband, bend him over the couch and-No, no, no, Ianto aborted the thought even as he nibbled on Jack's lower lip. Food first. Talk next. Then sex, oh God, yes, lots and lots of sex. Merry Christmas, Mr. Jones.
Ianto pulled away with a regretful groan. "No…food first."
Jack blinked a heavy lidded look at him. He looked a little cross-eyed.
"Are you serious?" Jack groaned. He leaned forward, his hands tangling in Ianto's shirt, fingertips grazing his stomach. Ianto bit back a groan and darted out of reach.
"You haven't eaten in days," Ianto reminded Jack and reminding himself. "You need vitamins, protein."
Jack looked meaningfully at Ianto’s crotch. "I know another way to get protein," Jack rumbled.
Ianto bit back a whimper. Well, maybe just a quick-No. No, no, no. Ianto groaned. He hated himself sometimes.
"Food first," Ianto said firmly. He leaned over and pressed his lips against Jack, letting his tongue dart in briefly to taste everything that was Jack before pulling back.
Jack stared at Ianto, speechless. Then, slowly, he lifted up a hand over his nose.
"Uh," he muffled behind the cupped hand. "Okay. Food. But uh…Maybe a toothbrush first?"
Huh? Ianto gave his teeth an experimental swipe with his tongue. He froze.
"God," Ianto pivoted around and raced to the bathroom.
"Good morning to you too, Mr. Jones!" Jack called out, bemused, just before the bathroom door slammed.
Act III
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, Ch 31 Act 1/5,
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 31 "Combat"
Act II
"…Ianto either."
Gwen spared a glance over to Emma. She couldn't help herself but smile when Rhys, despite still being mad at her, was willing to put up the final decorations on the tree. He frowned when her mobile rang, but then Emma asked about that odd ornament they had bought last year and he began reminiscing. He looked wistful when he spoke about simpler times; when Gwen was still just ordinary PC Gwen Cooper.
She only sometimes resents him for that.
Rhys glanced up, a chuckle dying on his lips when his eyes fell upon her. A pang settled in her chest when he averted his gaze. If he was mad now…
"Gwen?"
"Still here," Gwen hastened to say, swallowing. "You've tried the Hub, you say?"
Tosh, even with her usual mild demeanor, sounded a bit worried over the line. "Twice. It's not a Weevil alert either. We would have all gotten alerts."
Gwen nodded and smiled faintly when Rhys looked over again. "I didn't receive anything. Did Owen?" She had been tempted to call the doctor all day yesterday, even if just to hear him prattle on about the commercialism of the holiday. Gwen couldn't, however, bring herself to do it with Emma and Rhys around. And the more she stared at Rhys, the more Gwen felt horrible for even thinking about calling Owen. What the hell are you doing, Gwen Cooper?
Tosh gave a surprisingly rude snort. "Him? He's too busy with-Never mind. I know Ianto is probably with family. I tried calling twice but it went to his voicemail."
That wasn't like Ianto either. She'd always thought Ianto was much more fastidious than the rest of them, but he was dedicated to Torchwood at least. Gwen frowned. She hoped he was okay. The holidays can be very hard on those suffering a loss.
"Try Jack's mobile once more and I'll try Ianto's," Gwen advised, not really worried. "I'm sure they're fine." It was Christmas, after all.
What could happen?
When Ianto's mobile rang again like a basket of strangled cats, Ianto poked his head out of the mound of covers.
"Ianto." Jack's drowsy whine was coming from somewhere in the vicinity of Ianto's stomach and under the duvet. Ianto caught a glimpse of Jack's foot before it scurried back under the covers.
"It's back." Ianto could see Jack's pale blue eyes squinting out of the dark folds of the duvet. Ianto couldn't see the rest of him-though he could feel a good, wonderful part of him-but the pout was audible.
It was the last time he ever lent a child his mobile to play with. Never again. He should have heeded Bryce's warning against giving Maygan the device.
Crazy Frog sang and sang uncaringly. Ianto thought he could feel his teeth dissolving.
Jack groaned, his disheveled head popping out of the duvet tangled around them, his hair sticking out in all directions. He squinted in the general direction of the ringing. "I think it's an alien trying to communicate. Kill it."
Ianto pondered his options-leave the warm spot Jack's body had created in his bed or stay and hear his brains boil in his skull. He mournfully looked at Jack's torso, the shirt twisted around and giving him glimpses of that tempting firm stomach that quivered whenever he thrust deep into-
"It's not stopping," Jack dropped back on the bed. "Where's a compact laser deluxe when you need one?"
A compact what? Ianto prodded Jack with an elbow. "You were a time traveler, weren't you?"
"So?"
"Shouldn't you time travelers have telepathy or telekinesis? Use the bloody force on it, Harkness!"
Jack looked at him, completely baffled. "And force it to do what?"
Ianto scoffed in disbelief. "You know about Winehouse but not Star Wars?"
The mobile kept ringing.
"Go away!" Jack abruptly growled in a way that always made Ianto's toes curl hearing it. The tingling feeling died when he caught Jack tossing something white across the bedroom, something white and-
"Did you just throw your shorts at it?" Ianto gawked at the tousled dark head burying itself facedown on a pillow.
"What makes you think that?" Jack asked, his voice low. He squirmed and-
Ianto gulped. "Tell me that's your finger poking me."
"It's my finger." Jack sounded a little too smug, a little too husky.
"Are you lying?"
"Very." Another poke.
"Well," Ianto said as steady as he could. He was beginning to sweat; his palms were starting to itch. "Since you're up…" Ianto ignored the barely stifled snicker. "The least you could do is get that."
"Fine," Jack grumbled. He rubbed his face into Ianto's throat and Ianto shivered. "But what should I say about why I'm answering your-"
Argh. Good point. "I'll get it, I'll get it," Ianto grumbled. Jack half-heartedly waved a fist above the blankets in victory then burrowed back into the covers.
Ianto sat up, feeling a little disgruntled and a little uncombed. But then he looked at Jack, curled around the spot Ianto had just vacated, more asleep than awake, his face peaceful after having been so long twisted from nightmares. His chest swelled. Impulsively, he dropped a kiss on top Jack's hair and wished it hadn't elicited such a surprised start from Jack. It felt natural somehow to do that. "Be back in a tick," Ianto murmured and pried himself away with a groan.
The mobile rang insistently as he padded out of the bedroom, absently scratching his stomach under his shirt. Ianto wished it would just go to voicemail, but obviously someone wanted him desperately.
Not bothering to check the display, Ianto fumbled it out of his jacket and folded sloppily over the couch.
"Ianto Jones," he said with a yawn, mobile pinned between his shoulder and left ear, his eyes on his jacket as he draped it properly over a chair so it wouldn't wrinkle.
"Happy Christmas, Ianto."
Brilliant. Ianto bit back a groan. "Gwen," he greeted between clenched teeth. He suspected she was just checking up on him. She'd been doting since Lisa, since the Beacons. He couldn't fault her most of the time. She reminded him of Sioned. "Happy Christmas to you, too. Everything alright?"
"Everything's fine. How's your holiday so far?"
"Fine. Yours?"
Oh, big mistake. Ianto made random non-committal sounds as she eagerly began talking about holiday shopping with Emma, Rhys trying to cook the turkey, someone named Banana Boat-Banana Boat?-giving them very strong eggnog, etcetera, etcetera.
During Gwen's cheerful recount, Ianto could hear the shower running. He spied Jack's shorts, thrown at a very impressive distance by the foot of the couch. He thought about Jack in his shower, naked. He sat on the top edge of his couch and crossed his legs.
"…find Jack anywhere."
Ianto jerked away from the image of soapy water trailing down Jack's supple spine and the back of his long legs. "What?" he asked stupidly.
Gwen didn't notice as she chuckled at something she saw on her end. "No, Emma, he shouldn't be eating that! Hm? Oh, yes. Tosh tried Jack's mobile and the Hub's direct line. Thought I would check with you. Emma's mentioned it and I thought it might be a brilliant idea, if Jack doesn't mind that is, maybe we should invite John Ellis over for the holiday-"
"John Ellis is dead."
Ianto didn't mean to blurt it out in a jumble, but he panicked when Gwen mentioned her wonderful idea.
The mobile fell into stunned silence. There were sounds of Gwen telling Rhys she was taking the call out in the hall and hurried footsteps.
"How?" Gwen was suddenly very serious.
Ianto pinched a spot between his eyes. "Suicide. My car."
Gwen cursed. She lowered her voice further.
"How's Jack?" Gwen paused before adding, "They had seemed to hit it off before. Being from, you know, another time. Jack had high hopes he would be okay."
Ianto sighed wearily. He could still hear the shower but thoughts of Jack now turned somber. "He was…disappointed."
Gwen exhaled loudly by his ear. "Poor Jack."
Ianto nodded glumly. "I don't think we should say anything to Emma or Ms. Holmes just yet."
"God, no. Not on Christmas." Gwen audibly brightened. "Maybe we should invite Jack over here for Christmas then. I'm sure Emma will welcome the company-she's so impressionable though…No matter, I'm sure we-"
"Actually," Ianto interrupted. "Jack's with me."
"With you?" Gwen echoed. "With your family?" She sounded aghast.
Ianto didn't know why she sounded so horrified. It irked him. Would it have been so terrible if Jack had gone with him?
"No," Ianto said evenly. "In my flat. I came back early to the Hub. He's staying with me."
"Oh," Gwen digested. "…You alright?"
"Yes," Ianto couldn't help snapping. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Nothing, nothing," Gwen soothed. She fumbled out her explanation. "Just wanted to be sure you weren't uncomfortable with Jack there. I mean, I know you and Jack in the past were…about Lisa…I mean he was so mad…you both looked like you were doing better though."
Ianto rolled his eyes, but he calmed down. "We're fine." He smiled sadly. "We've worked past that a long time ago."
"So, you're friends then?" Gwen sounded so relieved.
You could say that, Ianto thought wryly. "Yes," he said out loud. "We'll be fine."
"Okay, love. But if you need anything or want us to take Jack for a spell-"
"See you tomorrow, Gwen," Ianto said firmly. God, she made Jack sound like a stray puppy.
Gwen reluctantly bid him farewell and ended the call.
"You didn't tell her."
Ianto turned at the subdued tone. Jack stood there, hair damp, looking almost small in his cotton undershirt and trousers and bare feet.
"Wasn't my place to tell," Ianto told him solemnly. He nodded towards Jack's outfit. "I see you found the trousers."
Jack shrugged and gestured towards himself. "Thanks for cleaning them. You didn't have to."
"There was blood on them," Ianto said before he pivoted on his heel and steered for the kitchen. "Sit. I'll heat something up. There's-"
"Actually, I was thinking about heading back to Torchwood," Jack cut him off.
Ianto's hands balled into fists to quell the panic bubbling up his throat. "We just missed breakfast time, but we could have an early lunch, then dinner. I was thinking-"
"There's still time to head back to your family," Jack pointed out. "It's Christmas."
Ianto abruptly spun around and marched right up to Jack. Jack looked surprised when Ianto jabbed a finger in his chest.
"You're not going back to Torchwood and I'm not going back home either."
Jack's eyes softened. His hands dropped on Ianto's shoulders. "Don't worry," Jack assured him. "I won't try anything." He made a self-deprecating laugh. "I mean, what's the point, right?"
"If that's supposed to make me feel better," Ianto spoke low and thin. "It didn't." He reached up and wrapped his hands around Jack's wrists. He still remembered seeing the lines of dry, crusted blood and the blunted scalpels discarded on the infirmary floor. Ianto squeezed the wrists on his shoulders. "When's the last time you've eaten?"
Jack's brow knitted together. "Uh…with John, I think, when he came over to talk." Jack shrugged.
Ianto's stomach clenched. "Sit down," he pleaded. Ianto pulled down Jack's hands and guided him to the couch. "Just stay here." At Jack's doubtful frown, Ianto added a soft, "Please."
An odd look flitted across Jack's face before he nodded.
The lost and uncertain look beckoned. It ached to see Jack like this. Ianto smashed his lips against Jack's mouth, just to give himself a reminder that Jack was still here, alive. He felt the older man tense, then relax into it, his lips parting, his arms slipping around Ianto's middle, lowering until his hands cupped Ianto's buttocks over his sweats.
Large hands gently squeezed and kneaded him through his jogging pants. Ianto moaned into Jack's mouth. He pressed closer and felt a hard response grinding into his hip. Ianto shifted his hips and whimpered as his own swollen need bumped against Jack's.
It was frantic, nothing graceful or gentle as they both clutched folds of fabric, heated skin rubbing against each other as their hips crashed against each other and shirts were yanked up. Jack's hands, Christ, his beautiful hands, roamed all over him before resting around the back of his neck, cradling Ianto's head as he nipped and licked Ianto's jaw and throat.
Ianto didn't waste time exploring; he knew what he wanted and where to get it. His hands deftly unbuttoned Jack’s flies, Jack wiggling impatiently until the trousers slithered down a few inches of bare, firm flesh. Ianto slipped a hand past Jack's waistband, past silken skin still flushed from the shower. He could feel the thump-thump of life on the artery that ran along the inside of Jack's thigh. Ianto only thrilled briefly in the fact that Jack wore no underwear, leaving Jack's buttocks ready for his hands.
Jack groaned out Ianto's name when Ianto ghosted a finger over his entrance but he didn't push through; he didn't want to cause Jack pain. He wouldn't be like him. Ianto smoothed his palm over and over the curve of one cheek, squeezing and lingering over velvety skin like he was polishing fine glass.
The couch was just behind them, he thought fuzzily. One push, a quick tug at his captain's waistband, bend him over the couch and-No, no, no, Ianto aborted the thought even as he nibbled on Jack's lower lip. Food first. Talk next. Then sex, oh God, yes, lots and lots of sex. Merry Christmas, Mr. Jones.
Ianto pulled away with a regretful groan. "No…food first."
Jack blinked a heavy lidded look at him. He looked a little cross-eyed.
"Are you serious?" Jack groaned. He leaned forward, his hands tangling in Ianto's shirt, fingertips grazing his stomach. Ianto bit back a groan and darted out of reach.
"You haven't eaten in days," Ianto reminded Jack and reminding himself. "You need vitamins, protein."
Jack looked meaningfully at Ianto’s crotch. "I know another way to get protein," Jack rumbled.
Ianto bit back a whimper. Well, maybe just a quick-No. No, no, no. Ianto groaned. He hated himself sometimes.
"Food first," Ianto said firmly. He leaned over and pressed his lips against Jack, letting his tongue dart in briefly to taste everything that was Jack before pulling back.
Jack stared at Ianto, speechless. Then, slowly, he lifted up a hand over his nose.
"Uh," he muffled behind the cupped hand. "Okay. Food. But uh…Maybe a toothbrush first?"
Huh? Ianto gave his teeth an experimental swipe with his tongue. He froze.
"God," Ianto pivoted around and raced to the bathroom.
"Good morning to you too, Mr. Jones!" Jack called out, bemused, just before the bathroom door slammed.
Act III
Additional Notes: Many thanks to soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.