Fic: The Best Intentions
Title: The Best Intentions
Series: Torchwood
Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, OC
Rating: R (nakedness, adult intent)
Spoilers: CoE
Beta: luvinthe88and20
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or the characters therein, they belong to the BBC and RTD. Any original storylines, characters and places are my property.
Summary: Centuries in the future, Jack Harkness can still be found by those who really want to find him, no matter where in the universe he is.
Author’s Notes: Written for a prompt in the Halloween Fest at torchwood_fest.
The Best Intentions
It had been a long, hectic day, when Jack Harkness finally collapsed on the sofa in his personal quarters. The starship was far from its final destination having been traveling for years now, but it still played host to the occasional diplomat from a nearby planet, especially when trading could be had. Jack had given up the moniker of 'Captain' centuries before, but his natural leadership still surfaced, making him the go to guy as a perfect liasion. It also helped that he had personal knowledge of some of the species they made contact with.
Struggling to sit up, he plucked a short glass from the grouping of liquor glasses that were in the middle of the coffee table. Placing the glass on the edge, he pulled the decanter of Earth brandy towards him. Unstopping the cut crystal bottle, he poured a generous amount into the glass and exchanged the decanter in his hand for the glass. Leaning back into the green leather sofa, he balanced the glass on his chest and closed his eyes, falling asleep before he could even take a sip.
He could feel the sofa shifting, that’s what woke him up, or so he thought. It was then that he smelled it. Coffee. Real, honest-to-goodness Earth coffee. Smirking, Jack opened his eyes, finding himself face-to-face with…
“Ianto,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Shhhhh… You had a long day. Must have been tough having to deal with all those stuffy diplomats by yourself. Makes the Prime Minister look like a cake walk, doesn’t it?”
“You could say that again.”
Ianto took the glass of brandy from his hands and placed it back on the table. Reaching across Jack, he tapped the data pad, turning off the lights in the main living quarters, letting the stars that surrounded them light up the room. Jack quickly wrapped his arms around Ianto’s midsection before he could get away.
“What are you doing?” Ianto asked, quirking one of his eyebrows in question as he looked down on Jack.
“Never letting you go.”
“If you don’t let me go I can’t get you any coffee.”
“The coffee can wait.”
“Jack…”
“Don’t call me Jack, call me-“ He never finished the sentence as Ianto leaned down and whispered in his ear the little nickname he had begun calling Jack in those last months. The nickname was almost as effective as when he called him ‘Sir,’ but it was reserved for when they were alone; ‘Sir’ worked well in public. Jack smiled up at Ianto, running his hands up the younger man’s back, feeling the satin of Ianto's waistcoat against his fingers.
Clasping his hands around Ianto’s neck, Jack pulled him downwards, gently pressing their lips together. He still tasted like Ianto - coffee, youth, heat, and brass. Need overtaking reason, Jack forced himself on Ianto, but Ianto didn’t pull away, but rather leaned in, his hands reaching down and cupping Jack’s crotch through his trousers.
“Oh, Ianto. You cannot begin to imagine how much I have missed you.”
“I think I can guess.” Ianto pulled way from Jack, disentangling their bodies. He stood up and held a hand out to Jack. “Do you really want to do this on the sofa?”
“Where did you have in mind?”
“In the bedroom, like civilized human beings.”
“Lead on,” Jack said, taking Ianto’s hand and standing up. As they walked through his quarters, Jack could feel the old familiar callous’ on the tips of the other man’s fingers. He could also feel the small indented scar where the Dekaven had cut him. Despite Owen’s best efforts it had refused to heal 100%.
The door to the bedroom had barely closed behind them when Jack had Ianto slammed against the wall, his hands exploring every inch of his lover. Sliding off Ianto’s waistcoat, Jack tossed it aside. He then slowly undid each button, kissing the other man on the neck every time more of his shirt was undone. Pulling off Ianto’s undershirt, Jack held the man close and began to kiss down Ianto’s body. When he reached the younger man’s trousers he unbuckled the belt, undid the button and fly, and without removing anything else, slid everything - including his pants - down his body.
Ianto kicked off his shoes and stepped out of the clothes puddle around his ankles. Pushing Jack back, he took off his socks and threw them aside. Jack could barely keep focused on getting out of his own clothes as he watched Ianto lay down across the bed. Kneeling next to the other man, Jack softly ran his hands up and down Ianto’s body, delighting in the feel of him, tracing every inch with his eyes, never wanting to forget.
*** *** ***
Jack woke up, his mind still replaying his night with Ianto. The body underneath felt different than the one he had fallen asleep to. Pushing himself up onto his left elbow, his eyes trailed up a naked, shaking, female body. He looked Saraia in the face and saw that she was crying. She then turned her face away from his.
“Saraia, what did you do?” Jack demanded.
“I lied to you,” she huffed out between silent sobs.
It was then that the night before sunk in. The night before wasn't a dream; it had felt so real because it was. It couldn’t have been Ianto, Ianto had been dead for centuries. Ianto would never have lived to see humanity explore this far into the Universe anyway.
Jack pushed himself away, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to Saraia. “How?” He had trusted her with his heart.
“I have a gift,” she softly said. “I can mimic people.”
Jack’s chin sunk into his chest as he closed his eyes to keep his own emotions in check. “How can you mimic the dead?”
He could feel her hand lightly touch his back. “I found some of your old photos, and some old Earth recordings.” There was a pause. “I also found the tie you kept. It was dusty, but it still held some of his essence.”
“Were you trying to hurt me?”
“No. It’s because I love you I even attempted to impersonate Ianto. I know a part of your heart will always belong to him. At your age, I know even after two years together I would barely get a quarter of your heart, but I wanted to give something back to you, a treat, if you will.”
“More like a trick,” Jack muttered, standing up from the bed. He picked up Ianto’s clothes from the night before and found the tie. Holding it close to his chest, Jack chided himself for getting taken in by a mere glamour. All the things Saraia had done, all the right things she had said…
He spun on his heels, staring at her. Stalking back across the room, Jack dropped the tie on the bed and gripped her roughly by the shoulders. Pulling her up to a sitting position, his teeth clenched tight, he asked her, “your gift, it’s only mimicry, right?”
“Yes, but I don’t do it that often, it doesn’t feel right.”
“How did you know Ianto’s nickname for me?”
“What?”
“The nickname. Ianto gave me a nickname towards the end of our time together and your Ianto whispered it in my ear last night. And then when we were laying together falling asleep he said some other things.”
"What things?"
"Things only he would chide me about."
“I don’t remember that, Jack.”
“You have to, you said them.”
“I don’t!” She wrenched herself away from him, leaning against the headboard. “There are parts of last night I don’t remember. I thought it was because I changed myself.” She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears. Jack’s breath caught in his throat as her hazel eyes turned blue for a second and she regretfully smiled at him. She looked down at her hands.
Jack put his hand under her chin, and tilted it up so he could look her in the eyes. They were hazel again. “What’s today’s date?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.”
Jack fumbled with the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out another data pad. Scrolling down he saw the date in Earth years. “November 1st,” he muttered.
“What’s that?”
“All Souls Day.” He didn’t explain anymore, just stood up and turned to the windows, watching the stars. He choked back the tears and whispered “thank you.”
Series: Torchwood
Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, OC
Rating: R (nakedness, adult intent)
Spoilers: CoE
Beta: luvinthe88and20
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or the characters therein, they belong to the BBC and RTD. Any original storylines, characters and places are my property.
Summary: Centuries in the future, Jack Harkness can still be found by those who really want to find him, no matter where in the universe he is.
Author’s Notes: Written for a prompt in the Halloween Fest at torchwood_fest.
The Best Intentions
It had been a long, hectic day, when Jack Harkness finally collapsed on the sofa in his personal quarters. The starship was far from its final destination having been traveling for years now, but it still played host to the occasional diplomat from a nearby planet, especially when trading could be had. Jack had given up the moniker of 'Captain' centuries before, but his natural leadership still surfaced, making him the go to guy as a perfect liasion. It also helped that he had personal knowledge of some of the species they made contact with.
Struggling to sit up, he plucked a short glass from the grouping of liquor glasses that were in the middle of the coffee table. Placing the glass on the edge, he pulled the decanter of Earth brandy towards him. Unstopping the cut crystal bottle, he poured a generous amount into the glass and exchanged the decanter in his hand for the glass. Leaning back into the green leather sofa, he balanced the glass on his chest and closed his eyes, falling asleep before he could even take a sip.
He could feel the sofa shifting, that’s what woke him up, or so he thought. It was then that he smelled it. Coffee. Real, honest-to-goodness Earth coffee. Smirking, Jack opened his eyes, finding himself face-to-face with…
“Ianto,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Shhhhh… You had a long day. Must have been tough having to deal with all those stuffy diplomats by yourself. Makes the Prime Minister look like a cake walk, doesn’t it?”
“You could say that again.”
Ianto took the glass of brandy from his hands and placed it back on the table. Reaching across Jack, he tapped the data pad, turning off the lights in the main living quarters, letting the stars that surrounded them light up the room. Jack quickly wrapped his arms around Ianto’s midsection before he could get away.
“What are you doing?” Ianto asked, quirking one of his eyebrows in question as he looked down on Jack.
“Never letting you go.”
“If you don’t let me go I can’t get you any coffee.”
“The coffee can wait.”
“Jack…”
“Don’t call me Jack, call me-“ He never finished the sentence as Ianto leaned down and whispered in his ear the little nickname he had begun calling Jack in those last months. The nickname was almost as effective as when he called him ‘Sir,’ but it was reserved for when they were alone; ‘Sir’ worked well in public. Jack smiled up at Ianto, running his hands up the younger man’s back, feeling the satin of Ianto's waistcoat against his fingers.
Clasping his hands around Ianto’s neck, Jack pulled him downwards, gently pressing their lips together. He still tasted like Ianto - coffee, youth, heat, and brass. Need overtaking reason, Jack forced himself on Ianto, but Ianto didn’t pull away, but rather leaned in, his hands reaching down and cupping Jack’s crotch through his trousers.
“Oh, Ianto. You cannot begin to imagine how much I have missed you.”
“I think I can guess.” Ianto pulled way from Jack, disentangling their bodies. He stood up and held a hand out to Jack. “Do you really want to do this on the sofa?”
“Where did you have in mind?”
“In the bedroom, like civilized human beings.”
“Lead on,” Jack said, taking Ianto’s hand and standing up. As they walked through his quarters, Jack could feel the old familiar callous’ on the tips of the other man’s fingers. He could also feel the small indented scar where the Dekaven had cut him. Despite Owen’s best efforts it had refused to heal 100%.
The door to the bedroom had barely closed behind them when Jack had Ianto slammed against the wall, his hands exploring every inch of his lover. Sliding off Ianto’s waistcoat, Jack tossed it aside. He then slowly undid each button, kissing the other man on the neck every time more of his shirt was undone. Pulling off Ianto’s undershirt, Jack held the man close and began to kiss down Ianto’s body. When he reached the younger man’s trousers he unbuckled the belt, undid the button and fly, and without removing anything else, slid everything - including his pants - down his body.
Ianto kicked off his shoes and stepped out of the clothes puddle around his ankles. Pushing Jack back, he took off his socks and threw them aside. Jack could barely keep focused on getting out of his own clothes as he watched Ianto lay down across the bed. Kneeling next to the other man, Jack softly ran his hands up and down Ianto’s body, delighting in the feel of him, tracing every inch with his eyes, never wanting to forget.
*** *** ***
Jack woke up, his mind still replaying his night with Ianto. The body underneath felt different than the one he had fallen asleep to. Pushing himself up onto his left elbow, his eyes trailed up a naked, shaking, female body. He looked Saraia in the face and saw that she was crying. She then turned her face away from his.
“Saraia, what did you do?” Jack demanded.
“I lied to you,” she huffed out between silent sobs.
It was then that the night before sunk in. The night before wasn't a dream; it had felt so real because it was. It couldn’t have been Ianto, Ianto had been dead for centuries. Ianto would never have lived to see humanity explore this far into the Universe anyway.
Jack pushed himself away, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to Saraia. “How?” He had trusted her with his heart.
“I have a gift,” she softly said. “I can mimic people.”
Jack’s chin sunk into his chest as he closed his eyes to keep his own emotions in check. “How can you mimic the dead?”
He could feel her hand lightly touch his back. “I found some of your old photos, and some old Earth recordings.” There was a pause. “I also found the tie you kept. It was dusty, but it still held some of his essence.”
“Were you trying to hurt me?”
“No. It’s because I love you I even attempted to impersonate Ianto. I know a part of your heart will always belong to him. At your age, I know even after two years together I would barely get a quarter of your heart, but I wanted to give something back to you, a treat, if you will.”
“More like a trick,” Jack muttered, standing up from the bed. He picked up Ianto’s clothes from the night before and found the tie. Holding it close to his chest, Jack chided himself for getting taken in by a mere glamour. All the things Saraia had done, all the right things she had said…
He spun on his heels, staring at her. Stalking back across the room, Jack dropped the tie on the bed and gripped her roughly by the shoulders. Pulling her up to a sitting position, his teeth clenched tight, he asked her, “your gift, it’s only mimicry, right?”
“Yes, but I don’t do it that often, it doesn’t feel right.”
“How did you know Ianto’s nickname for me?”
“What?”
“The nickname. Ianto gave me a nickname towards the end of our time together and your Ianto whispered it in my ear last night. And then when we were laying together falling asleep he said some other things.”
"What things?"
"Things only he would chide me about."
“I don’t remember that, Jack.”
“You have to, you said them.”
“I don’t!” She wrenched herself away from him, leaning against the headboard. “There are parts of last night I don’t remember. I thought it was because I changed myself.” She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears. Jack’s breath caught in his throat as her hazel eyes turned blue for a second and she regretfully smiled at him. She looked down at her hands.
Jack put his hand under her chin, and tilted it up so he could look her in the eyes. They were hazel again. “What’s today’s date?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.”
Jack fumbled with the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out another data pad. Scrolling down he saw the date in Earth years. “November 1st,” he muttered.
“What’s that?”
“All Souls Day.” He didn’t explain anymore, just stood up and turned to the windows, watching the stars. He choked back the tears and whispered “thank you.”