Fic: The Oncoming Storm (Slash, AU, Janto 10/40)
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 past non-con/dubious consent, minor (very minor) het, verbal and mental abuse.
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 10
Ianto Jones refused to say anything more as the elevator descended. Each time Jack tried even to open his mouth, Jones just lifted a finger in a "one moment, one moment" fashion as he fidgeted in place. The young man stared at the decreasing numbers, biting his lower lip. He looked like he couldn’t believe he was doing this.
He looked adorable.
Jack blinked, momentarily disconcerted at the thought and in the back of his mind, he waited for a response from the Doctor, who of course wasn't here. He’d asked young Ianto Jones to fetch him.
He was lucky, Jack supposed, that the Doctor used kinder words. They were guests of Torchwood after all.
"Won’t they be wait-" Jack began, but again, another finger from Ianto, whose eyes stared straight ahead.
Jack ruefully leaned back again the elevator wall, his hands braced on the cool surface. If he was being honest to himself, Jack didn't mind the detour. Especially since he knew what was waiting for him upstairs.
His body rippled with goose bumps and Jack suddenly felt ill, disgusting, and simply unfit to be sharing an elevator with a striking young man whose eyes reflected all the good the universe has to offer. He flushed, remembering Ianto's inquiry cutting through darkness and his fevered, drowsy sleep. Jack averted his gaze. He swallowed as he lowered his eyes to the floor. God knew what Jones thought of the musky smell of sex in the room. The young man stared at him with a mix of fascination and…Jack wasn't sure what else. He was afraid to know. He'd almost wished it was simply revulsion; made it easier to know where he stood.
"Um…mind stopping that?"
Jack glanced over. "What?"
Jones lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers. "That. You were…ah…tapping a little." More than a little according to the strained smile Jones sported.
Jack pulled his hands away from the wall, surprised. "'Sorry," he offered as he tucked his hands into his pockets. "I wasn't aware I…well…you know."
A quick smile told him all was forgiven and it was back to the mechanical countdown on the elevator.
This was the slowest elevator he'd encountered. Jack fidgeted again.
"So, where are we-"
Ianto shushed him.
Jack raised an eyebrow, at a loss on how to react. The Doctor had shushed him before. Jack was used to being shushed. He used to ignore it until Rose had laughed and teased the Doctor to give up and tell them whatever was brewing in the Gallifryan's mind.
There was no Rose this time so each shush muted Jack because otherwise…
Ianto looked up and slid his gaze over to Jack, his ears pink. Jack found it strangely charming.
"Sorry, I uh…" Ianto gestured towards himself. "I didn't mean to be rude, just…"
"Just shut up, right?" Jack joked, unsure how to respond to the apology.
Ianto gave him a sheepish smile. "Yes, shut up." He paused before adding, "Please?"
Jack gave him a lazy salute then turned back towards the doors. He wondered why he couldn't stop smiling and thought he looked silly on the blurry reflection on the double doors.
"This has to be the slowest lift I had ever encountered in my life."
Jack burst out laughing. "I was thinking just that." His face felt strange, stretched out in a grin when the doors finally opened and Ianto leaned out the doors to check both directions.
Unease settled in his gut as Ianto gave Jack a speculative look before he snagged Jack's sleeve again.
Jack half-expected to be dragged into yet another strange room and was surprised/relieved to find himself being guided through narrow hallways littered with tall, wooden file cabinets shoved up one side. Occasionally, small pockets of office space with dim lit desks interrupted the rows.
It was one of these pockets, barely wide enough to fit two people, Ianto stopped at. Jack noted the cabinets behind him. Folders sat on top with a stray PDA, and the black phones that littered the walls had buttons instead of the rotary Jack was accustomed to seeing in the turn of the 20th century.
"Okay," Ianto whispered. He looked at either ends of the hallway. "This is the 'g' to 'i' section. I think you'll be safe here."
Jack's eyebrow rose. He copied Ianto and peered down both ends of the hallways. His eyes crinkled as he lowered his voice as well. "Okay."
Ianto rolled his eyes and his hands waved in the air between them. "There's usually thirty of us managing the archives but most of them are out to lunch. Trust me. Better this way or they'll eat you alive."
Jack looked at Ianto's anxious expression. He frowned mildly. "I thought you people don't revert to cannibalism until-never mind. Long story," Jack quickly said at Ianto's half-shocked, half-curious expression. "Okay," Jack kept his voice low. "I trust you." Jack blinked.
Actually, he did. Weird.
Ianto flushed with pleasure and indicated Jack to sit down. "Wait here," Ianto whispered. He glanced over Jack's head. "I'll be right back."
There was a quick cut of panic which Jack squelched before it showed. "I'll be here," he managed to keep his voice even.
Ianto didn't really go far; he ducked into the next office pocket, with the grace and movements of a thief at night.
A weird grinding then chortling sound filled the hallway. Jack pursed his lips, wondering if he should find a weapon. He wished they hadn't confiscated his Webley.
Jack just arrived to the decision to grab the roller chair he was on and rush to the young man's aid when Ianto emerged balancing a tray of mismatched mugs, a pot, and some sort of cookie on a paper napkin. Jones stopped short in front of Jack.
"Is everything alright?" Jones set the tray down on the desk. He eyed warily at Jack. "Seat not comfortable?"
Sheepishly, Jack lowered the furniture and sat back down. "It's fine." He blinked when a chipped mug with the oddest looking graphic of a white dog painted on the ceramic floated in front of him. Jack accepted it cautiously and took a small whiff. His face broke out in delight. Coffee!
"You looked cold," Ianto Jones explained as Jack took a long drink. "Thought it might help to have a hot drink. Biscuit?"
Jack sighed deeply and sank back in his chair. Chocolate and cinnamon lingered on his tongue even after that one drink. He could feel it warming his insides as it went down and the bitter brew felt liquid and satin smooth on his tongue.
He licked his lips and pulled back the mug in amazement. "Wow." Jack tilted up to Ianto, who was observing his reaction over his own mug with a pleased little smile, perched on the edge of the desk next to him.
"You brought me all the way down to the archives," Jack drawled as he reached for a golden biscuit and dipped it in his brew. "To get me coffee?" Jack offered Ianto an arched eyebrow. "This can't be the only place that has coffee."
Ianto snorted, flushed when he realized what he did, and waved a hand in the air. "There's coffee everywhere," Ianto retorted. "But here is where you can get good coffee."
Jack hid a smile behind his mug because he refused to let Ianto see he agreed. He closed his eyes and felt, for the first time in a long time, the lingering chill lift from his bones.
"Better?" Ianto's quiet voice drew him from his reverie.
Nodding, Jack wrapped both his hands on the cup and let the heat bleed under his skin. He peered up at Ianto and smiled faintly.
The quiet they shared was a surprising comfort. Jack missed the hum the TARDIS made. Her absence was sorely felt every night when he tried to sleep. But here, even with no hum, Jack felt no shadows, knew no chill.
"So this is where you work, Ianto Jones," Jack observed. He poked at the piles of folders and papers stacked in neat piles like pillars on the desk. "So sneaking into time machines is not in your job description?"
"Only police boxes," Ianto said primly but he smirked behind his drink. "And besides, you invited me in."
Jack chuckled as he took a bite of the buttery cookie. "Well, I guess it's only fair since we materialized uninvited."
"Quite." Jones took a sip of his brew with a satisfied sigh. "Why is it a police box anyway?"
Jack grimaced at the age old question and decided the simplest answer was the best. "Camouflage."
"Camouflage?" Ianto repeated doubtfully.
"Yup."
"Well, Captain, I don't think it's doing a very good job."
Jack laughed, sputtered around his coffee. "The Doctor said it's a circuit that makes it blend in." He smiled, remembering how Rose had embraced a corner and declared she loved it regardless. "But it got stuck."
Without so much a blink, Ianto took a bite from his cookie, crunching as he reasoned, "So unstick it."
Jack raised his hands towards Ianto. "I told him that many times. He won't listen to me."
"Yet you'll travel the universe with him," Ianto said, sobering.
Jack couldn't bring up the energy to argue. His shoulders slumped. "The Doctor's not…well…he's not always like…you know."
Ianto Jones had pressed his mouth thin, unconvinced.
"He wasn't like this before," Jack insisted, wondering why it was so important for the young man to understand. "The Doctor has saved you people so many times and you don't know it." Jack looked down at his mug. "He's changed now." And that's my fault.
"How is it your fault?"
Damn, Jack didn't realize he had spoken out loud. He looked up, but Jones only looked…concerned?
Jack blinked a few times, his mind blank. Because I'm wrong, he wanted to say but he didn't want to see the gentle concern cast before him warp to something familiar and ugly.
"Good coffee," Jack murmured. He looked up at Ianto, still seated at the edge of his desk. Jack rolled his seat until he was between Ianto's knees.
The young man's eyes were dark upon him, his pink mouth parted slightly as he studied Jack like a painting, eyes tracing every line of his face. Jack relaxed a little. This look he knew, recognized and could respond to-whether he wanted to or not.
Jack slipped his hands up the trousers in front of him, his hands curled lightly on top of muscular thighs. Hm, Ianto was deceptively fit; lean muscle that bunched and tensed under his palms, hot and throbbing with life. Jack tilted his head up and watched Jones' pupils shrink to pinpricks, his lashes a hood over eyes clouded with lust, his mouth parted in surprise.
This, this Jack could deal with. He recognized it more than the flip flop his stomach made whenever Jones smiled or the alien stirring in his groin that he hadn't felt in a long time.
Jack opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Ianto swooped in and kissed him.
Ianto had never kissed a man before and naturally, he supposed, there would be differences.
He was kissing Harkness before he knew he was even contemplating it. He ducked his head, curled over the captain and sealed his mouth over his.
The captain, jerked, startled, and the roller chair squeaked when it wheeled back in response. Ianto cradled the captain's head and shoulders to prevent him from hitting the cabinets. It must have been the proper response because Harkness melted into his loose embrace and began to kiss him back in earnest, his arms tentatively around Ianto's middle.
The faint stubble Ianto could feel scratching lightly on the insides of his wrists was odd, alien to the youthful softness of Lisa's cheeks. Yet the rough texture felt fairly exotic and not at all unpleasant and his fingers tingled as he carded Harkness' surprisingly soft dark hair.
The captain's lips were firm, lush; a man's mouth yet soft when he nibbled the lower lip. The inside was warm and just as welcoming when Ianto's tongue slipped in. The moan he swallowed from Harkness sent the same shiver down to his groin like when he kissed Lisa.
The large hands around his torso were a little disconcerting but Harkness had a gentle grip, more like massaging as his fingers shyly kneaded his stomach muscles. When the hands drew up to the back of his shoulders, it only felt natural to Ianto to pull Harkness-Jack-closer until he was settled between his legs, Jack's chest firmly pressed to his lower body and his groin stirred and Ianto groaned into that wonderful mouth before he-
"Oi! Is anyone working here?" An annoyed voice from one end of the hallway echoed to the other end. "I need something pulled! Where the bloody hell are you wankers?"
A squeak-from whom Ianto couldn't tell-and they parted, the captain rattling against the cabinets with his head, Ianto slamming back into the stack of folders and coffee mugs, sending papers plopping over the sides.
"Damn!" Ianto yelped, sliding off the desk in a semi-controlled fall. Another voice was already answering the visitor. He dropped to his knees, frantically rescuing what he could.
"Here," Harkness offered, breathlessly as he joined him. "Let me help you."
"What?" Ianto looked up and knocked under Harkness' chin. "Ouch! No, no, I got it! Wait…"
After a few moments of what went where and who got what, they were back in their respective spots, Ianto panting, rescued folders close to his chest as he sat up on the desk, looking ready to topple over again.
What was he doing? Ianto felt his heart hammering in his ear and he was frightfully hot. Bloody hell, bloody hell. Would people understand an alien had made him do it? No, wait, Harkness had said he wasn't an alien. Just a human, a very human man-Christ Almighty!
"I'm not gay!" Ianto blurted out when he saw Harkness tentatively touched his lips in surprise.
Harkness blinked and said slowly, "No, you don't look particularly happy right now…"
"What? I-no, I mean I'm not…" Ianto helplessly gestured his hand in the air.
The captain frowned, his brow furrowed and Ianto forced himself to look away because Christ, he wanted to kiss the little furrow and bury his fingers in his hair again!
Understanding dawned. "Oh," Harkness exhaled. He gave a little eye roll. "You people and your little labels." He glanced over to Ianto, his face shuttered. "So what was that? Curiosity? A form of Torchwood investigation?"
Ianto stared at him, aghast. "I would never…I don't know why I-" Ianto's eyes darted to the end of the corridor. He dropped his voice. "I don't know why I kissed you!" Ianto huffed, dropped the folders on his desk and heaved a sigh.
"Was it that terrible?" Harkness' joke was weak.
Ianto knew he should have said yes. After all, he was dating Lisa, yes was the proper answer wasn't it? But he looked at the brittle smile Harkness wore, the eyes that dulled in preparation of rejection and Ianto found he couldn't do it.
"No," Ianto said quietly and very seriously. "No. Not terrible at all." Ianto caught the surprise before the captain could hide it and suddenly Ianto was very glad he hadn’t lied.
Jack could still taste the coffee that Jones had drunk before, deep with a little sweetness from the milk and sugar. He smiled faintly at Ianto's candidness. Jack only wished he knew how to respond. So he just took his mug and took a sip.
"Before…"
Jack raised his eyes again. Jones looked uncomfortable. He took a deep breath.
"I asked if you were unwell, you said...well, you didn't."
Jack smiled wanly but his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.
"Are you sick?" There wasn't fear in Jones' voice but open concern. Jack responded to it but couldn't look at him.
"I…there's something…wrong with me." Jack blinked at the word "wrong". He tried to wash it down with a long drink of coffee. The brew was lukewarm, but still soothed his throat like honey. "I needed the right kind of doctor." Jack grimaced to himself.
"Ah." Jones settled a hand on Jack's wrist, lowering the cup so he could refill it. "You mean The Doctor." The coffee pot settled by his hip and the young man pulled away, leaving Jack's wrist cold and exposed.
"Is it working? What he's doing?"
Jack lowered his gaze, shrugged, and placed down his cup. The taste in his mouth soured. Jack could still feel the cold needles sliding in, the sharp heated sting that coursed through his veins. He remembered how his throat hurt screaming. He remembered dying, only to wake up, and feeling like it would never end.
"Are you dying?"
It was a whisper, but in the muted halls of the archives, Jack flinched.
It wasn't funny. It wasn't, but Jack laughed. The sound hurt coming out, like knives dragging cuts in his throat on their way out. Ianto Jones looked alarmed, but he didn't pull away. Rather, he curled a hand around the back of Jack's head and pulled him until Jack's cheek rested on his thigh.
"Alright. Alright."
It was a low murmur accompanied by gentle fingers that carded through his hair. They didn't snatch, they didn't pull; they just held his head like it was made of glass.
Jack didn't know when his laughter twisted to the odd choking sound clawing out of his throat. There were no tears, nothing blinding his eyes with moisture, yet his eyes blurred, his throat choked and it took too much effort to lift his head away from the pressed wool trousers and light fingers in his hair. Jack tried to muffle the horrible sound. It couldn't be from him. It couldn't. Jack Harkness didn't huddle against beautiful souls in shadowed halls and wish for everything to go away. It wasn't him.
"Shh. It's all right."
It was clear Ianto Jones knew nothing about what lurked in Jack's soul, knew nothing about the insidious, foul, wrongness brewing inside him, and knew nothing about what needed to be done to fix it. Because it needed to be fixed. Jack wanted his life back. He wanted his Doctor back. He wanted…there was so much he wanted.
Beautifully oblivious, Ianto Jones just sat there, Jack's head on his lap, murmuring first in English, then in accented vowels that washed over Jack like a cool breeze. His fingers tapped a different beat against his hair that sounded faintly like a heartbeat. And Jack listened to it, his misery finally muted. He shut his eyes, imagined this was everything else and he was just Jack Harkness and the hands were just Ianto Jones and this place was just an anonymous hallway that wasn't cold, wasn't empty and the promise of forever wouldn't be one-sided.
Jack pressed his face to the inseam under his jaw. He heard Ianto talking to him in hushed, soothing sounds, his fingers gingerly making circles in the back of his hair.
Jack closed his eyes tighter and pretended.
The lift was once again the slowest one in the Tower.
Ianto glanced over to his left at Harkness. The captain stood there, solitary by choice, his arms folded in front of him, his head bowed, deep in thought.
Down in the archives, something had happened. Something Ianto wasn't sure he was supposed to witness. Harkness, after a moment, had pulled away, straightened his clothing and asked to be taken upstairs. It felt like the darkness from the ship had caught up to the captain down in the archives.
"Next time…" Ianto began. He winced. His voice sounded loud in the lift. Ianto smiled to the captain, heartened to see Harkness returned it.
"We have a nice greenhouse of alien flora," Ianto hedged. "Fluorescent plants and well, the lab technicians have nurtured them with classical music. I uh…maybe I could show you the science labs. A proper tour."
Harkness stared at Ianto, long enough that Ianto grew nervous.
"I'm a little rusty on my 20th century culture," Harkness said slowly. He peered up through hooded eyes. "But, did you just ask me out on a date?"
Oh bugger, it did sound like it, didn't it? Ianto chuckled nervously as Harkness walked over to him, his hands behind his back, and a lazy curve on his lips.
The captain was close enough for Ianto to realize he stood just a little taller. Just a little. Enough so that Harkness wouldn't need to bend his head too far down to kiss him.
Oh, not a good thought to have right now.
The lift dinged behind him, each floor counting up to the one where they'll part.
Just when the lift dinged the last floor left, Harkness placed his hands on either side of Ianto's head.
Ianto stared at the blue eyes that reflected his own, murky and filled with things he couldn't possibly understand, yet he felt like he could try to decipher the mysteries behind Harkness' eyes.
He stood there, thinking he wouldn't mind staying here forever when Harkness suddenly brought his hands to cup his face and kissed him.
Lord…
Ianto's knees wobbled and he felt like the elevator wall was holding him up. It felt like he was being savored; Harkness' mouth, tongue, hands discovering every fiber of his being. Ianto had never felt so thoroughly explored, embraced like Harkness was trying to memorize every bit, every aspect of him.
The doors opened and Harkness pulled away. His eyes were dark, his smile small and sad.
"Jones?" Someone yelped from beyond the lift, but Ianto was too speechless, too riveted to Harkness' face to respond.
"Thank you for the coffee, Ianto Jones," Harkness rasped as he backed away from the elevator. He kept smiling, that sad parody that made Ianto's chest clench, as the doors closed. Behind him, the Doctor and the director were exiting the meeting room.
The doors completely shut and Ianto's hand shook as he pressed for his floor, down below in the archives.
They’d never felt so far away.
Chapter 11
Additional Notes:Many thanks to snakeling for betaing this chapter long ago. Yes, I finally finished and can start reporting! Huzzah! 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 past non-con/dubious consent, minor (very minor) het, verbal and mental abuse.
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 10
Ianto Jones refused to say anything more as the elevator descended. Each time Jack tried even to open his mouth, Jones just lifted a finger in a "one moment, one moment" fashion as he fidgeted in place. The young man stared at the decreasing numbers, biting his lower lip. He looked like he couldn’t believe he was doing this.
He looked adorable.
Jack blinked, momentarily disconcerted at the thought and in the back of his mind, he waited for a response from the Doctor, who of course wasn't here. He’d asked young Ianto Jones to fetch him.
He was lucky, Jack supposed, that the Doctor used kinder words. They were guests of Torchwood after all.
"Won’t they be wait-" Jack began, but again, another finger from Ianto, whose eyes stared straight ahead.
Jack ruefully leaned back again the elevator wall, his hands braced on the cool surface. If he was being honest to himself, Jack didn't mind the detour. Especially since he knew what was waiting for him upstairs.
His body rippled with goose bumps and Jack suddenly felt ill, disgusting, and simply unfit to be sharing an elevator with a striking young man whose eyes reflected all the good the universe has to offer. He flushed, remembering Ianto's inquiry cutting through darkness and his fevered, drowsy sleep. Jack averted his gaze. He swallowed as he lowered his eyes to the floor. God knew what Jones thought of the musky smell of sex in the room. The young man stared at him with a mix of fascination and…Jack wasn't sure what else. He was afraid to know. He'd almost wished it was simply revulsion; made it easier to know where he stood.
"Um…mind stopping that?"
Jack glanced over. "What?"
Jones lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers. "That. You were…ah…tapping a little." More than a little according to the strained smile Jones sported.
Jack pulled his hands away from the wall, surprised. "'Sorry," he offered as he tucked his hands into his pockets. "I wasn't aware I…well…you know."
A quick smile told him all was forgiven and it was back to the mechanical countdown on the elevator.
This was the slowest elevator he'd encountered. Jack fidgeted again.
"So, where are we-"
Ianto shushed him.
Jack raised an eyebrow, at a loss on how to react. The Doctor had shushed him before. Jack was used to being shushed. He used to ignore it until Rose had laughed and teased the Doctor to give up and tell them whatever was brewing in the Gallifryan's mind.
There was no Rose this time so each shush muted Jack because otherwise…
Ianto looked up and slid his gaze over to Jack, his ears pink. Jack found it strangely charming.
"Sorry, I uh…" Ianto gestured towards himself. "I didn't mean to be rude, just…"
"Just shut up, right?" Jack joked, unsure how to respond to the apology.
Ianto gave him a sheepish smile. "Yes, shut up." He paused before adding, "Please?"
Jack gave him a lazy salute then turned back towards the doors. He wondered why he couldn't stop smiling and thought he looked silly on the blurry reflection on the double doors.
"This has to be the slowest lift I had ever encountered in my life."
Jack burst out laughing. "I was thinking just that." His face felt strange, stretched out in a grin when the doors finally opened and Ianto leaned out the doors to check both directions.
Unease settled in his gut as Ianto gave Jack a speculative look before he snagged Jack's sleeve again.
Jack half-expected to be dragged into yet another strange room and was surprised/relieved to find himself being guided through narrow hallways littered with tall, wooden file cabinets shoved up one side. Occasionally, small pockets of office space with dim lit desks interrupted the rows.
It was one of these pockets, barely wide enough to fit two people, Ianto stopped at. Jack noted the cabinets behind him. Folders sat on top with a stray PDA, and the black phones that littered the walls had buttons instead of the rotary Jack was accustomed to seeing in the turn of the 20th century.
"Okay," Ianto whispered. He looked at either ends of the hallway. "This is the 'g' to 'i' section. I think you'll be safe here."
Jack's eyebrow rose. He copied Ianto and peered down both ends of the hallways. His eyes crinkled as he lowered his voice as well. "Okay."
Ianto rolled his eyes and his hands waved in the air between them. "There's usually thirty of us managing the archives but most of them are out to lunch. Trust me. Better this way or they'll eat you alive."
Jack looked at Ianto's anxious expression. He frowned mildly. "I thought you people don't revert to cannibalism until-never mind. Long story," Jack quickly said at Ianto's half-shocked, half-curious expression. "Okay," Jack kept his voice low. "I trust you." Jack blinked.
Actually, he did. Weird.
Ianto flushed with pleasure and indicated Jack to sit down. "Wait here," Ianto whispered. He glanced over Jack's head. "I'll be right back."
There was a quick cut of panic which Jack squelched before it showed. "I'll be here," he managed to keep his voice even.
Ianto didn't really go far; he ducked into the next office pocket, with the grace and movements of a thief at night.
A weird grinding then chortling sound filled the hallway. Jack pursed his lips, wondering if he should find a weapon. He wished they hadn't confiscated his Webley.
Jack just arrived to the decision to grab the roller chair he was on and rush to the young man's aid when Ianto emerged balancing a tray of mismatched mugs, a pot, and some sort of cookie on a paper napkin. Jones stopped short in front of Jack.
"Is everything alright?" Jones set the tray down on the desk. He eyed warily at Jack. "Seat not comfortable?"
Sheepishly, Jack lowered the furniture and sat back down. "It's fine." He blinked when a chipped mug with the oddest looking graphic of a white dog painted on the ceramic floated in front of him. Jack accepted it cautiously and took a small whiff. His face broke out in delight. Coffee!
"You looked cold," Ianto Jones explained as Jack took a long drink. "Thought it might help to have a hot drink. Biscuit?"
Jack sighed deeply and sank back in his chair. Chocolate and cinnamon lingered on his tongue even after that one drink. He could feel it warming his insides as it went down and the bitter brew felt liquid and satin smooth on his tongue.
He licked his lips and pulled back the mug in amazement. "Wow." Jack tilted up to Ianto, who was observing his reaction over his own mug with a pleased little smile, perched on the edge of the desk next to him.
"You brought me all the way down to the archives," Jack drawled as he reached for a golden biscuit and dipped it in his brew. "To get me coffee?" Jack offered Ianto an arched eyebrow. "This can't be the only place that has coffee."
Ianto snorted, flushed when he realized what he did, and waved a hand in the air. "There's coffee everywhere," Ianto retorted. "But here is where you can get good coffee."
Jack hid a smile behind his mug because he refused to let Ianto see he agreed. He closed his eyes and felt, for the first time in a long time, the lingering chill lift from his bones.
"Better?" Ianto's quiet voice drew him from his reverie.
Nodding, Jack wrapped both his hands on the cup and let the heat bleed under his skin. He peered up at Ianto and smiled faintly.
The quiet they shared was a surprising comfort. Jack missed the hum the TARDIS made. Her absence was sorely felt every night when he tried to sleep. But here, even with no hum, Jack felt no shadows, knew no chill.
"So this is where you work, Ianto Jones," Jack observed. He poked at the piles of folders and papers stacked in neat piles like pillars on the desk. "So sneaking into time machines is not in your job description?"
"Only police boxes," Ianto said primly but he smirked behind his drink. "And besides, you invited me in."
Jack chuckled as he took a bite of the buttery cookie. "Well, I guess it's only fair since we materialized uninvited."
"Quite." Jones took a sip of his brew with a satisfied sigh. "Why is it a police box anyway?"
Jack grimaced at the age old question and decided the simplest answer was the best. "Camouflage."
"Camouflage?" Ianto repeated doubtfully.
"Yup."
"Well, Captain, I don't think it's doing a very good job."
Jack laughed, sputtered around his coffee. "The Doctor said it's a circuit that makes it blend in." He smiled, remembering how Rose had embraced a corner and declared she loved it regardless. "But it got stuck."
Without so much a blink, Ianto took a bite from his cookie, crunching as he reasoned, "So unstick it."
Jack raised his hands towards Ianto. "I told him that many times. He won't listen to me."
"Yet you'll travel the universe with him," Ianto said, sobering.
Jack couldn't bring up the energy to argue. His shoulders slumped. "The Doctor's not…well…he's not always like…you know."
Ianto Jones had pressed his mouth thin, unconvinced.
"He wasn't like this before," Jack insisted, wondering why it was so important for the young man to understand. "The Doctor has saved you people so many times and you don't know it." Jack looked down at his mug. "He's changed now." And that's my fault.
"How is it your fault?"
Damn, Jack didn't realize he had spoken out loud. He looked up, but Jones only looked…concerned?
Jack blinked a few times, his mind blank. Because I'm wrong, he wanted to say but he didn't want to see the gentle concern cast before him warp to something familiar and ugly.
"Good coffee," Jack murmured. He looked up at Ianto, still seated at the edge of his desk. Jack rolled his seat until he was between Ianto's knees.
The young man's eyes were dark upon him, his pink mouth parted slightly as he studied Jack like a painting, eyes tracing every line of his face. Jack relaxed a little. This look he knew, recognized and could respond to-whether he wanted to or not.
Jack slipped his hands up the trousers in front of him, his hands curled lightly on top of muscular thighs. Hm, Ianto was deceptively fit; lean muscle that bunched and tensed under his palms, hot and throbbing with life. Jack tilted his head up and watched Jones' pupils shrink to pinpricks, his lashes a hood over eyes clouded with lust, his mouth parted in surprise.
This, this Jack could deal with. He recognized it more than the flip flop his stomach made whenever Jones smiled or the alien stirring in his groin that he hadn't felt in a long time.
Jack opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Ianto swooped in and kissed him.
Ianto had never kissed a man before and naturally, he supposed, there would be differences.
He was kissing Harkness before he knew he was even contemplating it. He ducked his head, curled over the captain and sealed his mouth over his.
The captain, jerked, startled, and the roller chair squeaked when it wheeled back in response. Ianto cradled the captain's head and shoulders to prevent him from hitting the cabinets. It must have been the proper response because Harkness melted into his loose embrace and began to kiss him back in earnest, his arms tentatively around Ianto's middle.
The faint stubble Ianto could feel scratching lightly on the insides of his wrists was odd, alien to the youthful softness of Lisa's cheeks. Yet the rough texture felt fairly exotic and not at all unpleasant and his fingers tingled as he carded Harkness' surprisingly soft dark hair.
The captain's lips were firm, lush; a man's mouth yet soft when he nibbled the lower lip. The inside was warm and just as welcoming when Ianto's tongue slipped in. The moan he swallowed from Harkness sent the same shiver down to his groin like when he kissed Lisa.
The large hands around his torso were a little disconcerting but Harkness had a gentle grip, more like massaging as his fingers shyly kneaded his stomach muscles. When the hands drew up to the back of his shoulders, it only felt natural to Ianto to pull Harkness-Jack-closer until he was settled between his legs, Jack's chest firmly pressed to his lower body and his groin stirred and Ianto groaned into that wonderful mouth before he-
"Oi! Is anyone working here?" An annoyed voice from one end of the hallway echoed to the other end. "I need something pulled! Where the bloody hell are you wankers?"
A squeak-from whom Ianto couldn't tell-and they parted, the captain rattling against the cabinets with his head, Ianto slamming back into the stack of folders and coffee mugs, sending papers plopping over the sides.
"Damn!" Ianto yelped, sliding off the desk in a semi-controlled fall. Another voice was already answering the visitor. He dropped to his knees, frantically rescuing what he could.
"Here," Harkness offered, breathlessly as he joined him. "Let me help you."
"What?" Ianto looked up and knocked under Harkness' chin. "Ouch! No, no, I got it! Wait…"
After a few moments of what went where and who got what, they were back in their respective spots, Ianto panting, rescued folders close to his chest as he sat up on the desk, looking ready to topple over again.
What was he doing? Ianto felt his heart hammering in his ear and he was frightfully hot. Bloody hell, bloody hell. Would people understand an alien had made him do it? No, wait, Harkness had said he wasn't an alien. Just a human, a very human man-Christ Almighty!
"I'm not gay!" Ianto blurted out when he saw Harkness tentatively touched his lips in surprise.
Harkness blinked and said slowly, "No, you don't look particularly happy right now…"
"What? I-no, I mean I'm not…" Ianto helplessly gestured his hand in the air.
The captain frowned, his brow furrowed and Ianto forced himself to look away because Christ, he wanted to kiss the little furrow and bury his fingers in his hair again!
Understanding dawned. "Oh," Harkness exhaled. He gave a little eye roll. "You people and your little labels." He glanced over to Ianto, his face shuttered. "So what was that? Curiosity? A form of Torchwood investigation?"
Ianto stared at him, aghast. "I would never…I don't know why I-" Ianto's eyes darted to the end of the corridor. He dropped his voice. "I don't know why I kissed you!" Ianto huffed, dropped the folders on his desk and heaved a sigh.
"Was it that terrible?" Harkness' joke was weak.
Ianto knew he should have said yes. After all, he was dating Lisa, yes was the proper answer wasn't it? But he looked at the brittle smile Harkness wore, the eyes that dulled in preparation of rejection and Ianto found he couldn't do it.
"No," Ianto said quietly and very seriously. "No. Not terrible at all." Ianto caught the surprise before the captain could hide it and suddenly Ianto was very glad he hadn’t lied.
Jack could still taste the coffee that Jones had drunk before, deep with a little sweetness from the milk and sugar. He smiled faintly at Ianto's candidness. Jack only wished he knew how to respond. So he just took his mug and took a sip.
"Before…"
Jack raised his eyes again. Jones looked uncomfortable. He took a deep breath.
"I asked if you were unwell, you said...well, you didn't."
Jack smiled wanly but his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.
"Are you sick?" There wasn't fear in Jones' voice but open concern. Jack responded to it but couldn't look at him.
"I…there's something…wrong with me." Jack blinked at the word "wrong". He tried to wash it down with a long drink of coffee. The brew was lukewarm, but still soothed his throat like honey. "I needed the right kind of doctor." Jack grimaced to himself.
"Ah." Jones settled a hand on Jack's wrist, lowering the cup so he could refill it. "You mean The Doctor." The coffee pot settled by his hip and the young man pulled away, leaving Jack's wrist cold and exposed.
"Is it working? What he's doing?"
Jack lowered his gaze, shrugged, and placed down his cup. The taste in his mouth soured. Jack could still feel the cold needles sliding in, the sharp heated sting that coursed through his veins. He remembered how his throat hurt screaming. He remembered dying, only to wake up, and feeling like it would never end.
"Are you dying?"
It was a whisper, but in the muted halls of the archives, Jack flinched.
It wasn't funny. It wasn't, but Jack laughed. The sound hurt coming out, like knives dragging cuts in his throat on their way out. Ianto Jones looked alarmed, but he didn't pull away. Rather, he curled a hand around the back of Jack's head and pulled him until Jack's cheek rested on his thigh.
"Alright. Alright."
It was a low murmur accompanied by gentle fingers that carded through his hair. They didn't snatch, they didn't pull; they just held his head like it was made of glass.
Jack didn't know when his laughter twisted to the odd choking sound clawing out of his throat. There were no tears, nothing blinding his eyes with moisture, yet his eyes blurred, his throat choked and it took too much effort to lift his head away from the pressed wool trousers and light fingers in his hair. Jack tried to muffle the horrible sound. It couldn't be from him. It couldn't. Jack Harkness didn't huddle against beautiful souls in shadowed halls and wish for everything to go away. It wasn't him.
"Shh. It's all right."
It was clear Ianto Jones knew nothing about what lurked in Jack's soul, knew nothing about the insidious, foul, wrongness brewing inside him, and knew nothing about what needed to be done to fix it. Because it needed to be fixed. Jack wanted his life back. He wanted his Doctor back. He wanted…there was so much he wanted.
Beautifully oblivious, Ianto Jones just sat there, Jack's head on his lap, murmuring first in English, then in accented vowels that washed over Jack like a cool breeze. His fingers tapped a different beat against his hair that sounded faintly like a heartbeat. And Jack listened to it, his misery finally muted. He shut his eyes, imagined this was everything else and he was just Jack Harkness and the hands were just Ianto Jones and this place was just an anonymous hallway that wasn't cold, wasn't empty and the promise of forever wouldn't be one-sided.
Jack pressed his face to the inseam under his jaw. He heard Ianto talking to him in hushed, soothing sounds, his fingers gingerly making circles in the back of his hair.
Jack closed his eyes tighter and pretended.
The lift was once again the slowest one in the Tower.
Ianto glanced over to his left at Harkness. The captain stood there, solitary by choice, his arms folded in front of him, his head bowed, deep in thought.
Down in the archives, something had happened. Something Ianto wasn't sure he was supposed to witness. Harkness, after a moment, had pulled away, straightened his clothing and asked to be taken upstairs. It felt like the darkness from the ship had caught up to the captain down in the archives.
"Next time…" Ianto began. He winced. His voice sounded loud in the lift. Ianto smiled to the captain, heartened to see Harkness returned it.
"We have a nice greenhouse of alien flora," Ianto hedged. "Fluorescent plants and well, the lab technicians have nurtured them with classical music. I uh…maybe I could show you the science labs. A proper tour."
Harkness stared at Ianto, long enough that Ianto grew nervous.
"I'm a little rusty on my 20th century culture," Harkness said slowly. He peered up through hooded eyes. "But, did you just ask me out on a date?"
Oh bugger, it did sound like it, didn't it? Ianto chuckled nervously as Harkness walked over to him, his hands behind his back, and a lazy curve on his lips.
The captain was close enough for Ianto to realize he stood just a little taller. Just a little. Enough so that Harkness wouldn't need to bend his head too far down to kiss him.
Oh, not a good thought to have right now.
The lift dinged behind him, each floor counting up to the one where they'll part.
Just when the lift dinged the last floor left, Harkness placed his hands on either side of Ianto's head.
Ianto stared at the blue eyes that reflected his own, murky and filled with things he couldn't possibly understand, yet he felt like he could try to decipher the mysteries behind Harkness' eyes.
He stood there, thinking he wouldn't mind staying here forever when Harkness suddenly brought his hands to cup his face and kissed him.
Lord…
Ianto's knees wobbled and he felt like the elevator wall was holding him up. It felt like he was being savored; Harkness' mouth, tongue, hands discovering every fiber of his being. Ianto had never felt so thoroughly explored, embraced like Harkness was trying to memorize every bit, every aspect of him.
The doors opened and Harkness pulled away. His eyes were dark, his smile small and sad.
"Jones?" Someone yelped from beyond the lift, but Ianto was too speechless, too riveted to Harkness' face to respond.
"Thank you for the coffee, Ianto Jones," Harkness rasped as he backed away from the elevator. He kept smiling, that sad parody that made Ianto's chest clench, as the doors closed. Behind him, the Doctor and the director were exiting the meeting room.
The doors completely shut and Ianto's hand shook as he pressed for his floor, down below in the archives.
They’d never felt so far away.
Chapter 11
Additional Notes:Many thanks to snakeling for betaing this chapter long ago. Yes, I finally finished and can start reporting! Huzzah! LOL.