Sonata for the TARDIS in D -- Time Travel Messes With Your Tenses
Title: Sonata for the TARDIS in D
Chapter Two: Time Travel Messes With Your Tenses
dwtwprompts prompt: "If an idea's worth having once, it's worth having twice." - Tom Stoppard.
Date Written: 5/24/08
Rating: PG-13/T
Word Count: 1,725
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Spoilers: Doctor Who Season One, Torchwood Season 1, also connected to my other (related) series Deviation from the Norm, specifically chapter three
Warnings: boys kissing, mentions of sex, naked boys!
Author's Notes: Okay guys, about Ianto's alias... The Doctor uses John Smith, and while the name 'Ianto' is a form of the name John, I imagine that Ianto has a hard time using a name the Doctor has, essentially, claimed. According to BabyNames.com, Ianto and Matt mean the same thing, 'Gift of God'.
This was inspired by a writing challenge by alphapack in jackxianto
1/?: And So It Begins
'Captain Jack Harkness' looked up at the London night sky, waiting for... who knew what. That blue box had definitely followed him here.
Time Agents. They were all crazy, that's why they'd signed up. Ulterior motives, or downright stupidity, every single one of them had one or the other.
There was a German air raid scheduled for tonight. A little part of him wanted to warn the men and women filling the dance hall, but he decided against it. The people around him had died long before he was born, there was no reason to be fretting about them now. Either they'd die tonight in the raid, or they'd die tomorrow in the war.
Something below caught his eyes, and he pulled out his binoculars, looking down. A man in an officer's blue greatcoat, his face hidden by the shadow of a cap, was running down an alley, pulling another man along with him. The other was wearing trousers, an Oxford shirt and a dark-colored waistcoat, his black hair sticking up at odd angles as he was dragged behind.
He had a lovely smile. Whomever that officer was, he was one lucky son of a bitch to find a boy that pretty in this time that was willing to have sex in a darkened alley while German bombs fell about them. There was a great sort of kinkiness that wartime brought out in people.
A snatch of laughter floated up from below, followed by words he never thought he'd hear, ever. "Oi, Harkness!"
His eyes widened. Oh fuck. He was here with another version of himself? It had to be an older version, because he'd never been here before. And while he was often a complete and utter asshole, he wasn't stupid enough to willfully create a paradox!
Maybe it was the wrong Harkness.
Maybe he'd misunderstood.
The curiosity of it ate him up.
He brushed past Algie, who had been coming over to talk to him, calling out an apology as he rushed down the stairs, hurrying for the two figures. He had to find out what happened, why on Earth he'd come back to this place.
He caught a glimpse of well-tailored trousers disappearing around the corner, and he took off after the figure at a run. "Hey, you! Wait!" he called out, jumping over and around puddles. He rounded the corner --
-- and ran smack into the dark-haired man. The other stepped back a little, his hands coming up to touch Jack's chest, steadying them both. "Hello, Jack."
"Ianto, listen to me." Jack's hands were cold against his face. "I need you to do something."
"Anything, Jack."
He leaned in to kiss Ianto softly. "Go with him, the other me. There are things you have to do."
"We're not allowed to cross established time lines."
"You already have, Yan."
"Jack the Doctor --"
"Ianto, you have to." He touched his face gently. "If you don't, I won't go looking for the Doctor." He kissed him again as he heard himself call out. "You'll know what to do."
Jack was never quite sure who seduced whom. Matt -- that was the name he'd given, but he'd bet his eye teeth that it was a lie -- had a beautiful accent, one that he definitely hadn't heard from anyone in his own time. His clothing was current fashion, but made with material that wouldn't be used for years yet, and there was alien tech on his person, in the gold necklace he wore around his neck and the band on his left hand.
He also knew enough about things that hadn't quite happened yet that he'd had no issues with teleporting them to the Chula ship. The look on Matt's face was a strange mix of amazed wonder and professional detachment.
The question Where are you from? had earned a secretive smile. When are you from? had resulted in a very slow, very thorough kiss.
After that, he hadn't cared. Matt was a -- very -- willing body, and extremely inventive.
And he acted like he loved him. Really, truly loved him. Matt gave himself up unreservedly, and kissed him like he meant it. It had been a long time since that had happened.
The dark-haired man smiled at him over his shoulder afterwards as Jack grinned up at the ceiling. "How 'bout some coffee?" he drawled in that lovely voice, a sated smile on his face.
"Why not?" he replied, watching as Matt slipped out of his bed and walk naked through the ship. "Not really all that fond of it, though. I don't even know if there's any on board."
Matt snorted in what was assumed to be amusement. "Really now?" he asked, and his voice had a teasing lilt in it.
"I guess it's all right. Caffeine is caffeine." He'd followed him into the tiny galley, watching Matt as he wrangled with a machine Jack had never bothered with. Normally when he wanted something he'd ask the ship's computer.
The computer, while good at that sort of thing, did not look as hot as Matt did while he was making coffee. The way he closed his eyes, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he sniffed at the dark brew made him want to pin the other to the counter and fuck him right there.
He was handed a cup and he smiled as well. "Love the smell of coffee," he said, carefully taking a sip. The liquid was a touch below tongue-scalding, and instead of the burnt taste he was used to, the flavor burst over his tongue, lovely and rich. There was a touch of sugar and cream in it, unexpectedly just the way he liked.
Matt was giving him a proud grin. "I do make the best coffee in the Universe," he said, proud but not smug about it. "I have it on very good authority, from two very accredited sources."
Jack frowned a little, watching him. "And I would be one of them."
He smiled and gave a curt nod, sipping his own coffee.
"How do you know me?"
"We're..." The dark-haired man paused here for a moment. "Colleagues."
"And lovers?"
Matt just smiled and sipped at his coffee again.
"Why am I here?" He paused. "I mean, why is the me you know here?"
"There's something you need to do," Matt said, setting his mug aside. "I'm here to help you."
"How?"
The dark-haired man smiled and stepped forward. "The you I know... he's so different, but the same."
He shouldn't be hearing this. He wasn't supposed to know about his own future. "A good different?"
"Sometimes." Matt touched his cheek. "This you is lighter. Younger. More carefree. The you I know has more responsibilities." Blue eyes flicked away from Jack's face.
"How responsible for you am I?" He was curious. This man was... intriguing.
"It's often the other way around," the other said with a laugh.
"How well do you know me?"
Matt just smiled and said one word. A name.
"Franklin."
Jack's eyes widened in shock and he pushed away from Matt. He stumbled back against the wall, and he realized just how suddenly weak his knees were. "You drugged me!"
"It's not fatal. I'm sorry, but you can't remember me, Jack." The dark-haired man gave a soft smile as the ex-Time Agent's knees gave out and he sank to the ground. He knelt in front of him, and Jack tried to jerk away but his body felt like it was made of lead. "Tomorrow night, during the Blitz, make sure you're watching the sky," he said, touching Jack's temples. "You'll see a blonde hanging from a barrage balloon. Save her."
Sleepy blue eyes met determined ones of the same color. Matt leaned in and kissed him softly, coaxing Jack's heavy eyelids closed. "Who're you?" he managed to slur out.
"Ianto Harkness-Jones," the other said softly, touching his cheek, "of Torchwood Three, in Cardiff."
Jack felt warm, soft pressure against his mouth. "I'll be seeing you soon, cariad."
Jack was leaning against the doors of the TARDIS, watching Ianto's progression on his wrist strap. The wedding ring he'd given Ianto all those years ago contained a tracker, a safeguard he'd had put into the band in the off-chance that Ianto would be taken hostage and Jack needed to find him. He'd only had to use it two times, this use bringing the tally to three.
He knew Ianto wasn't in any danger. However, he was still extremely anxious and wanted his lover back in his arms.
Funny. He was jealous of himself. That was something new.
He clicked out of the program and shut his strap as he heard Ianto's footsteps. When the Welshman rounded the corner and caught sight of Jack he ran forward, almost throwing himself into his lover's embrace.
"You're right, you were so right," Ianto murmured against his ear. "He was arrogant and selfish and he managed to have me suckered in after five minutes."
"That's who I am," Jack replied.
"That's who you were," Ianto corrected, pulling back just enough to look at his face. "When did you remember?"
"A few weeks ago. When the Doctor finally tried a cup of your coffee and said you made the best in the Universe."
Ianto smiled and kissed him. "Is there anything else you want to do while you're here?"
Jack thought for a moment. He could go to himself. Tell him everything that was going to happen, warn him against the heartache and the pain and let himself make an educated decision on what was going to happen, instead of entering the TARDIS when faced with the option of death.
But he knew he couldn't. The other him was a coward, would run at hearing that there was pain. Would laugh at the idea of pleasure. He'd never go with the Doctor. He'd never become immortal. He'd never find the beautiful man in his arms, the other half of his soul. There was pleasure in the pain.
"One thing, before we go." Jack smiled and opened the door to the TARDIS. Ianto laughed when he recognized the familiar strains of Glen Miller spill out from her control room. "In 1941 I dance with a beautiful blonde, a wonderful woman. But first I want to dance with you."
ETA: Chapter three here
Chapter Two: Time Travel Messes With Your Tenses
dwtwprompts prompt: "If an idea's worth having once, it's worth having twice." - Tom Stoppard.
Date Written: 5/24/08
Rating: PG-13/T
Word Count: 1,725
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Spoilers: Doctor Who Season One, Torchwood Season 1, also connected to my other (related) series Deviation from the Norm, specifically chapter three
Warnings: boys kissing, mentions of sex, naked boys!
Author's Notes: Okay guys, about Ianto's alias... The Doctor uses John Smith, and while the name 'Ianto' is a form of the name John, I imagine that Ianto has a hard time using a name the Doctor has, essentially, claimed. According to BabyNames.com, Ianto and Matt mean the same thing, 'Gift of God'.
This was inspired by a writing challenge by alphapack in jackxianto
1/?: And So It Begins
'Captain Jack Harkness' looked up at the London night sky, waiting for... who knew what. That blue box had definitely followed him here.
Time Agents. They were all crazy, that's why they'd signed up. Ulterior motives, or downright stupidity, every single one of them had one or the other.
There was a German air raid scheduled for tonight. A little part of him wanted to warn the men and women filling the dance hall, but he decided against it. The people around him had died long before he was born, there was no reason to be fretting about them now. Either they'd die tonight in the raid, or they'd die tomorrow in the war.
Something below caught his eyes, and he pulled out his binoculars, looking down. A man in an officer's blue greatcoat, his face hidden by the shadow of a cap, was running down an alley, pulling another man along with him. The other was wearing trousers, an Oxford shirt and a dark-colored waistcoat, his black hair sticking up at odd angles as he was dragged behind.
He had a lovely smile. Whomever that officer was, he was one lucky son of a bitch to find a boy that pretty in this time that was willing to have sex in a darkened alley while German bombs fell about them. There was a great sort of kinkiness that wartime brought out in people.
A snatch of laughter floated up from below, followed by words he never thought he'd hear, ever. "Oi, Harkness!"
His eyes widened. Oh fuck. He was here with another version of himself? It had to be an older version, because he'd never been here before. And while he was often a complete and utter asshole, he wasn't stupid enough to willfully create a paradox!
Maybe it was the wrong Harkness.
Maybe he'd misunderstood.
The curiosity of it ate him up.
He brushed past Algie, who had been coming over to talk to him, calling out an apology as he rushed down the stairs, hurrying for the two figures. He had to find out what happened, why on Earth he'd come back to this place.
He caught a glimpse of well-tailored trousers disappearing around the corner, and he took off after the figure at a run. "Hey, you! Wait!" he called out, jumping over and around puddles. He rounded the corner --
-- and ran smack into the dark-haired man. The other stepped back a little, his hands coming up to touch Jack's chest, steadying them both. "Hello, Jack."
"Ianto, listen to me." Jack's hands were cold against his face. "I need you to do something."
"Anything, Jack."
He leaned in to kiss Ianto softly. "Go with him, the other me. There are things you have to do."
"We're not allowed to cross established time lines."
"You already have, Yan."
"Jack the Doctor --"
"Ianto, you have to." He touched his face gently. "If you don't, I won't go looking for the Doctor." He kissed him again as he heard himself call out. "You'll know what to do."
Jack was never quite sure who seduced whom. Matt -- that was the name he'd given, but he'd bet his eye teeth that it was a lie -- had a beautiful accent, one that he definitely hadn't heard from anyone in his own time. His clothing was current fashion, but made with material that wouldn't be used for years yet, and there was alien tech on his person, in the gold necklace he wore around his neck and the band on his left hand.
He also knew enough about things that hadn't quite happened yet that he'd had no issues with teleporting them to the Chula ship. The look on Matt's face was a strange mix of amazed wonder and professional detachment.
The question Where are you from? had earned a secretive smile. When are you from? had resulted in a very slow, very thorough kiss.
After that, he hadn't cared. Matt was a -- very -- willing body, and extremely inventive.
And he acted like he loved him. Really, truly loved him. Matt gave himself up unreservedly, and kissed him like he meant it. It had been a long time since that had happened.
The dark-haired man smiled at him over his shoulder afterwards as Jack grinned up at the ceiling. "How 'bout some coffee?" he drawled in that lovely voice, a sated smile on his face.
"Why not?" he replied, watching as Matt slipped out of his bed and walk naked through the ship. "Not really all that fond of it, though. I don't even know if there's any on board."
Matt snorted in what was assumed to be amusement. "Really now?" he asked, and his voice had a teasing lilt in it.
"I guess it's all right. Caffeine is caffeine." He'd followed him into the tiny galley, watching Matt as he wrangled with a machine Jack had never bothered with. Normally when he wanted something he'd ask the ship's computer.
The computer, while good at that sort of thing, did not look as hot as Matt did while he was making coffee. The way he closed his eyes, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he sniffed at the dark brew made him want to pin the other to the counter and fuck him right there.
He was handed a cup and he smiled as well. "Love the smell of coffee," he said, carefully taking a sip. The liquid was a touch below tongue-scalding, and instead of the burnt taste he was used to, the flavor burst over his tongue, lovely and rich. There was a touch of sugar and cream in it, unexpectedly just the way he liked.
Matt was giving him a proud grin. "I do make the best coffee in the Universe," he said, proud but not smug about it. "I have it on very good authority, from two very accredited sources."
Jack frowned a little, watching him. "And I would be one of them."
He smiled and gave a curt nod, sipping his own coffee.
"How do you know me?"
"We're..." The dark-haired man paused here for a moment. "Colleagues."
"And lovers?"
Matt just smiled and sipped at his coffee again.
"Why am I here?" He paused. "I mean, why is the me you know here?"
"There's something you need to do," Matt said, setting his mug aside. "I'm here to help you."
"How?"
The dark-haired man smiled and stepped forward. "The you I know... he's so different, but the same."
He shouldn't be hearing this. He wasn't supposed to know about his own future. "A good different?"
"Sometimes." Matt touched his cheek. "This you is lighter. Younger. More carefree. The you I know has more responsibilities." Blue eyes flicked away from Jack's face.
"How responsible for you am I?" He was curious. This man was... intriguing.
"It's often the other way around," the other said with a laugh.
"How well do you know me?"
Matt just smiled and said one word. A name.
"Franklin."
Jack's eyes widened in shock and he pushed away from Matt. He stumbled back against the wall, and he realized just how suddenly weak his knees were. "You drugged me!"
"It's not fatal. I'm sorry, but you can't remember me, Jack." The dark-haired man gave a soft smile as the ex-Time Agent's knees gave out and he sank to the ground. He knelt in front of him, and Jack tried to jerk away but his body felt like it was made of lead. "Tomorrow night, during the Blitz, make sure you're watching the sky," he said, touching Jack's temples. "You'll see a blonde hanging from a barrage balloon. Save her."
Sleepy blue eyes met determined ones of the same color. Matt leaned in and kissed him softly, coaxing Jack's heavy eyelids closed. "Who're you?" he managed to slur out.
"Ianto Harkness-Jones," the other said softly, touching his cheek, "of Torchwood Three, in Cardiff."
Jack felt warm, soft pressure against his mouth. "I'll be seeing you soon, cariad."
Jack was leaning against the doors of the TARDIS, watching Ianto's progression on his wrist strap. The wedding ring he'd given Ianto all those years ago contained a tracker, a safeguard he'd had put into the band in the off-chance that Ianto would be taken hostage and Jack needed to find him. He'd only had to use it two times, this use bringing the tally to three.
He knew Ianto wasn't in any danger. However, he was still extremely anxious and wanted his lover back in his arms.
Funny. He was jealous of himself. That was something new.
He clicked out of the program and shut his strap as he heard Ianto's footsteps. When the Welshman rounded the corner and caught sight of Jack he ran forward, almost throwing himself into his lover's embrace.
"You're right, you were so right," Ianto murmured against his ear. "He was arrogant and selfish and he managed to have me suckered in after five minutes."
"That's who I am," Jack replied.
"That's who you were," Ianto corrected, pulling back just enough to look at his face. "When did you remember?"
"A few weeks ago. When the Doctor finally tried a cup of your coffee and said you made the best in the Universe."
Ianto smiled and kissed him. "Is there anything else you want to do while you're here?"
Jack thought for a moment. He could go to himself. Tell him everything that was going to happen, warn him against the heartache and the pain and let himself make an educated decision on what was going to happen, instead of entering the TARDIS when faced with the option of death.
But he knew he couldn't. The other him was a coward, would run at hearing that there was pain. Would laugh at the idea of pleasure. He'd never go with the Doctor. He'd never become immortal. He'd never find the beautiful man in his arms, the other half of his soul. There was pleasure in the pain.
"One thing, before we go." Jack smiled and opened the door to the TARDIS. Ianto laughed when he recognized the familiar strains of Glen Miller spill out from her control room. "In 1941 I dance with a beautiful blonde, a wonderful woman. But first I want to dance with you."
ETA: Chapter three here