Fic - Driving Captain Harkness, Part Two
Title: DRIVING CAPTAIN HARKNESS, Part Two
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Claire Sinclair-McLaren (OFC), Lister (OMC)
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: Adult for descriptions of sex acts
Spoilers: General, for series
Disclaimer: Not mine; they belong to the BBC.
Prompt: Day Seven of redismycolour
Summary: Jack Harkness knew Torchwood House held secrets but he didn’t realise that there was also a treasure there, as well.
Awareness returned on the usual jagged tsunami. Jack didn’t so much ‘come back to life’ as get flung away from death, crashing through the barrier that divided the dead from the living. He would lie gasping for breath under the sheer impact of life tearing through his body. He lay where he was for a moment, letting the aftershocks of resurrection die away and his heart settle back into a steady beat.
“-have to do something!”
Jones, Ianto Jones, Jack thought absently. The kid sounded agitated and when Jack turned his head to look he could see that Jones was definitely upset. After another second of so, the last of the post-revival fog lifted and Jack realised that the most probable cause would have to be Jones seeing Jack’s messy demise. Jack groaned. He tried to keep the reality of his condition as secret as possible. He hated being treated as a freak when he was endlessly and desperately searching for connections with people and places. Jones’ head snapped around in his direction and Jack realised he had heard the groan. Realising that he might as well face the music, Jack started to push himself up, then yelped in surprise as Jones literally hurled himself at him, pushing him back down flat.
“Duw, you’re alive! I could have sworn-“ Jones scrabbled for his comm.. “Lister, we have a medical emergency. Can you prep-“
Claire had joined them and gently laid her hand over Jones’, pulling it away from the comm. Before tapping her own. “Cancel that, Lister. False alarm.” She placed a hand on Jones’ lips as he started to protest, shaking her head.
“Everything okay, ma’am?” Lister asked.
“Yes, no problem. Ianto misunderstood something I said.”
“Very well, ma’am. I’ll bring the van.”
Jones had been staring up at Claire, but then he switched his attention back to Jack. Shaking himself free of Claire, Jones leaned forward and curled his hand against the nape of Jack’s neck. The move started out as tentative and Jack knew that Jones was braced to find ruined flesh. What he got was smooth, unmarked skin with drying blood matting Jack’s hair and the collars of his coat and shirt. Jack saw the moment the younger man’s eyes widened in disbelief and his touch became more searching. Jack submitted to the search passively, bracing himself for the almost inevitable horror and protestations he would get. Jones’ eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to give Jack a look of intrigued curiosity. Claire remained silent to one side of them, an unreadable look on her face. Jack knew he was being fanciful but it felt as if the world was holding its breath.
“Do you need more time or can we move out now?” Jones asked.
Now it was Jack’s turn to stare. He’d never had anyone, apart from Alex, take the revelation of his coming back to life so calmly. Claire looked just as surprised for a moment before relief flooding her face and she laughed and ruffled Jones’ hair.
“Come on, we need to get back to the House before the Pack catches up with us.”
“It was the rogue that attacked me?” Jack asked as he got to his feet.
Claire nodded and pointed to his left. “Ianto took him down while I dropped the newborn.”
Jack moved to check on the rogue. Even though he knew that Claire was a seasoned werewolf hunter and would have checked, he had bad memories of assuming a werewolf was dead and finding out the hard way that it was alive. While the parasite couldn’t raise the dead, it was capable of repairing what looked like fatal injuries. When he got to the carcass, however, it was pretty clear that this was one werewolf that wouldn’t be getting up again. There were two head wounds and either of them would have been fatal. He glanced over as Jones appeared with a body-bag.
“You use dum-dums?” he asked.
Jones gave him a sharp nod. “If it comes to my using a gun with a werewolf, I need to stop it and ordinary bullets don’t always work.”
“You always shoot to kill?” Jack kept his voice even but he was a little surprised at that. He hadn’t pegged Jones as being that cold-blooded.
The other man hesitated, looking over to where Claire was busy putting restraints on the sedated newborn. Satisfied that she was occupied, Jones turned back so he had his back to her and lifted open his jacket. Jack saw a shoulder holster with some kind of squat gun in it.
“Stun gun,” Jones said when Jack looked a question. “I designed it. Lady T doesn’t like my using it in the field but it’s effective enough against werewolves. Makes them lose co-ordination and slows their reflexes. Gives me time to take them down with a dart or net.”
“You didn’t do that here,” Jack observed as he took in the ruined werewolf’s head.
“I thought this one had killed you,” Jones shot back.
“Point,” Jack conceded and bent to help Jones get the werewolf’s body in the bag.
They worked quickly and efficiently and soon had the dead werewolf bagged. Lister arrived with the van and Jack and Jones went to help Claire load the newborn into the specially reinforced cage in the back. Jack turned back to go and get the rogue’s carcass and felt his heart stutter in his chest as he realised that they were facing the local Pack.
“Sorcha, we have company,” he tossed over his shoulder.
Claire turned around sharply and gasped when she saw the half-dozen werewolves gathered in a loose semi-circle. Lister uttered a soft but vehement curse while Jones was as silent as ever. The humans unconsciously bunched together before Claire took a deep breath and stepped forward.
“I speak for my Pack.”
After a moment a grizzled werewolf advanced a little. “I speak for this hunt,” he growled, the human words badly mangled by the changed mouth and tongue but still understandable.
“No Pack mother or daughter?” Claire asked sharply. “Was this hunt sanctioned?”
Jack watched in fascination. He knew from his reading of Torchwood reports that the mutated, home-grown variety of werewolf was evolving its own culture, creating social customs and laws that allowed them to flourish without coming into conflict with the larger human population. If humanity got it into its collective head that werewolves were a threat then the werewolves would be wiped out and the vast majority of them had the sense to realise that. The society was extremely hierarchal, with a huge emphasis on custom and traditions, with the females very much a dominant voice in most areas but especially any action that led werewolves into potential contact with humans. A hunt that had not been sanctioned by either a matriarch or a favoured daughter would be operating outside custom and law.
“The hunt was sanctioned. The Mother is heavy with child and the daughter attends.”
“Strength to the children, swift birth to the mother,” Claire said formally. Jack could see that the use of the correct response had gone down well. “I accept that the hunt is sanctioned. We killed the solitary to protect ourselves. Do you wish to claim the body?”
The werewolf snorted. “It is meat. We have no hunger.” Jack knew that in this context the statement meant that the Pack was disavowing all interests and rights to the rogue, but his relief was short-lived. “You hold a newborn against his will. He belongs with the Pack.”
He pointed in the direction of the van. Jack was startled when Jones immediately had his gun in his hand and aimed directly as the werewolf.
“You will not disrespect the favoured daughter of the House!” he snapped.
Jack knew he’d missed something. Even though Jones had drawn a weapon, none of the other werewolves were showing any real aggression. Claire was maintaining an air of arrogant indifference, refusing to make eye contact with the werewolf. Confused, Jack felt Lister come to stand beside him.
“Pointing in the presence of a mother or favoured daughter is considered bad form. Bit like spitting in the presence of the Queen,” Lister told him quietly.
“So they won’t go for Jones because he’s pulled a gun?” Jack murmured.
Lister shrugged. “It’s possible the spokesman might challenge him but it would be unusual and he’d probably catch hell from the matriarch if he did. Last thing she wants is to get Torchwood on her back.”
There was definitely a battle of wills going on between Jones and the werewolf. Taking his cue from the others, Jack remained silent as the conflict continued. Gradually, however, the werewolf’s head started to weave from side to side and then bowed down.
“No disrespect was intended to the favoured daughter. I used a human gesture for human understanding.”
“The courtesy in doing so is appreciated. No disrespect has been done to me,” Claire said.
Jones immediately lowered his gun and holstered it again before stepping back. The other werewolves also relaxed and Jack realised the crisis had passed with the integrity of both sides intact. He felt a nostalgic thrill, remembering times past when he was part of this kind of process, with two sides accepting and respecting their differences while also finding common ground. He missed that time with a deep ache.
“The newborn belongs with his own kind,” the werewolf persisted.
“The newborn came into being without guide or advice,” Claire shot back. “He has the right to choose his path, as set out in the Accord of the New Millennium.”
The werewolf snapped his jaws shut with a hard crash and growled while the others stirred restlessly. “The newborn belongs to us!”
“He belongs to himself!” Jones shouted.
“Enough!” Claire turned to glare at him, raising her hand commandingly. She waited until Jones dropped his eyes before turning back to the werewolf. “The cub’s words are also mine. The newborn will decide his own fate.”
“We will be permitted to put our case?”
“Of course. In accordance to custom. We lay claim to him in the meantime. He was captured by our Pack - he remains with us until he makes his decision.”
After a long moment, the werewolf jerked his head in agreement. “We accept your terms. We will come to your lair to discuss the matter.”
Claire nodded and they watched as the werewolves melted away into the dark. Once she was certain they were alone again, Claire heaved a sigh of relief before relaxing and throwing Jack a wicked smile.
“Never a dull moment when you visit us, eh, Jack?”
“Entertainment’s always worth the price of admission,” Jack agreed. “We taking tall, dead and gruesome back with us?” he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the dead werewolf.
“Yes. We’ll do an autopsy under controlled conditions and do a genetic breakdown on the parasite to monitor it. It usually pays to keep an eye on the rogues - if another mutation is going to hit, it’s likely to do so during an uncontrolled transfer. That’s how the Bloods started, after all.”
The trip back to the House was routine. Claire sent Jones with Lister and drove the Brooklands back herself, ignoring Jack’s less-than-subtle hints that he’d be happy to do it for her.
“That’s enough of that nonsense, Jack,” she said once they were back on the road. “How are you feeling?”
Jack flinched. He currently felt like he was going to leap out of his skin at any moment, the restless energy seething under his skin and prickling at his nerve endings. Mentally, however, he could feel the usual black depression threatening. Normally, if he had been back in Cardiff, he would have gone wandering restlessly, finding a willing body to couple with before relocating to a rooftop to brood on.
“When am I anything other than fine?” he demanded breezily.
Claire snorted. “I’ve read the reports my father and grandfather wrote, Jack Harkness, and I’ve seen you die before. You pay a high price for your immortality, so stop feeding me the macho bullshit and answer my question.”
Jack slumped down into his seat. “I’ll survive,” he said quietly. Like I have a choice, he thought bleakly.
“Can I help?” Claire asked.
This time Jack’s smile was genuine and unforced as he looked across at her. “You help just by being you, Sorcha. My one bright light in all the darkness. I should come up here more often.”
“Door’s always open, Jack,” she said promptly, lifting one hand off the steering wheel to grip one of his hands briefly. “I know you have some reason for clinging to Cardiff but if things ever change I want you up here with me.”
“Sometimes knowing that fact is the only thing that keeps me sane,” Jack confessed.
They reached the House soon after that. After determining that his help wasn’t needed, Jack made his way back to his room. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights since the moonlight was still bright even though the moon was now low on the horizon. He stripped and threw his soiled clothes into a haphazard heap in a corner before making for the bathroom, desperate to get clean. He’d had to send the coat away to get a specialist clean again, which was always awkward, but at least it hadn’t been ripped or torn this time.
One of the nice things about Torchwood House was that while it retained its old world charm, the plumbing was completely up to date. His compact en-suite had a power shower and Jack took full advantage of it, allowing the hot water to pummel away some of the crawling restlessness. He knew that Claire would come to his bed if he asked, and that they would find mutual pleasure in the process, but doing so would irrevocably change their relationship and he valued what they had too much to possibly ruin it for the sake of transitory physical satisfaction. Sex was usually a good way to bring himself back into focus, though. He sighed and fondled himself absently, half-inclined to wank off some of the energy but he couldn’t settle and he eventually gave up, turning off the shower. He dried himself off roughly and went back into the bedroom as he concentrated on towelling his hair dry.
He paused as he realised that he was no longer alone. The lights were still off but the room was now filled with a fitful brightness. After a couple of seconds Jack realised that Jones was kneeling in front of the rebuilt fire, putting the poker back in place. He had taken off the jacket and shoulder holster but was otherwise wearing the same outfit as before. Staring at him bathed in firelight, Jack was aware that a certain part of his anatomy had suddenly rediscovered its focus and he casually dropped the hand towel down in front of his groin. No need to freak the kid out by hitting on him just after he had seen Jack die a particularly gruesome death and then come back to life.
“I thought you’d prefer a fire in your room to take the chill off.” Jones’ eyes were unfathomable as he turned to look at Jack.
“Don’t you sleep?” Jack asked in amused exasperation. What would it take to shake this kid’s poise? He got a slight shrug in return.
“Still wound up from tonight.”
There was something in his voice and Jack caught it. He dropped the towel and stood, completely naked and half-erect, in the firelight. The expression on Jones’ face didn’t alter, but there was suddenly an additional tang to the air and Jack knew his guess had been correct. He moved towards Jones with the casual prowl of a predator who was now certain of a meal. He had planned to drag Jones to his feet and kiss him senseless while manoeuvring him in the direction of the bed. He was taken completely by surprise when Jones reached up to rest his hands on Jack’s hips and expertly went down on him.
“Oh.”
Jack reached out to steady himself on Jones’s shoulders before recovering balance and poise. He genuinely loved this kind of surprise and gave himself over to enjoying what was shaping up to be an expert blow-job. Whatever else Jones might be, he was no shrinking virgin. Looking down at the man, Jack found Jones looking up at him, the shadows in his eyes momentarily chased away by mischievous amusement. Bastard knew exactly what he was doing and was loving the effect he was having. Jack suddenly felt that connection he craved but so rarely got, stronger than he’d known it to happen for a long time. Judging from the way Jones’ eyes widened and he suddenly faltered, he felt something as well.
Jack grabbed at Jones’ hair and gave it a hard tug to make sure he had his attention, grunting when Jones retaliated with the judicious use of teeth scraping across sensitised skin. “Want to fuck me?” he asked hoarsely. There was no mistaking the surprise and flare of lust in the younger man’s eyes and Jack managed a breathless laugh. He gave Jones’ hair another hard tug. “Up and strip,” he ordered.
He made himself step back and watch as Jones got to his feet. The younger man stripped with an economy of motion that was beautiful to watch and the body that was steadily uncovered was more than easy on the eye. The sweater and t-shirt were pulled off to reveal a lightly furred chest which immediately had Jack’s fingers itching to explore it. Jones was fit without being overdeveloped and there was a delicious ribbon of darkness that began below the navel to lead down to what Jack saw was a well-formed cock that was just as aroused as his own. The arse was as delicious as he’d anticipated and the long legs were just made for wrapping around a lover and urging him on.
With a quiet growl, Jack moved in and grabbed at Jones, finding the younger man just as eager. They kissed passionately, hands exploring each other almost frantically. Jack thoroughly enjoyed this part of sex and normally liked to take his time, teasing the very best reactions out of his bedmates. Tonight, though, was about passion and release from tension and he gradually manoeuvred the two of them until they reached the bed.
“Lube and condoms are in the front pocket of my rucksack,” he said a little breathlessly. For a moment he didn’t think that Jones registered what he had said, but then he turned away and scrabbled for the supplies before turning back and reaching for Jack again.
They fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Frantic with need, they dispensed with finesse in the blind urge to climax. Jack gasped and arched up as he felt Jones’ lube-slick fingers probe and then slide in to prepare him. He reached out blindly and dragged Jones down for sloppy, open-mouthed kisses which were returned with equal passion before Jones pulled back with a grunt and positioned himself to thrust into Jack with one smooth motion that had Jack yelping in mingled pleasure and pain. Jones froze and gave him a look of concern.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jack managed to gasp. “It’s just been a while. Don’t stop!”
“Thank God!” Jones said fervently before starting to thrust, carefully at first, then more strongly as Jack started to relax and push back against him. He reached out to grasp Jack’s cock, pumping it in time to his own thrusts.
Both of them were so keyed up that it wasn’t long before they both came. Jones reared up with a strangled cry but Jack was more vocal, howling his satisfaction as he shuddered under his release. They both collapsed back onto the bed, panting and shivering under the aftershocks that travelled through them. Jack sighed with pleasure, feeling himself shift back into focus again as his body prickled and felt alive again. He shifted a little to gaze at Jones as he lay beside him, his body gleaming as the firelight danced off the sweat sheathing him.
“Thanks,” Jack said quietly, reaching out to run his fingers along the curve of Ianto’s shoulder, waist and hip.
For moment the familiar mask slid across Jones’ features. He looked away and took a deep breath before turning back to look at Jack, the mask falling away as he gave Jack a wonderfully shy smile. “Thank you. I think I needed this.” He removed the condom and started to get out of the bed.
“Where-” Jack swallowed his protest. He wasn’t even sure why he was questioning Jones’ leaving, since he was no stranger to one-night stands himself. There was just this feeling that Jones was worth more than one quick tumble, no matter how welcome or pleasurable.
Jones gave him an unreadable look. “I thought we could get cleaned up? Better than sleeping in our mess, although I can leave if you’d prefer…”
Jack breathed a sigh of relief, then wondered at his reaction. After a moment he dismissed his uncertainty, deciding to go with the flow. “What makes you think I’ve finished with you, Mr Jones?” He rolled over slightly and ran a delicate finger along Jones’ spine, loving the way Jones arched to his touch. “Hmm, can’t wait for my turn.” That earned him a quirk of those expressive eyebrows.
“What makes you think I’m going to let you top me?” Jones asked with what Jack hoped was mock severity. Jack fluttered his eyelashes and Jones laughed. “Come on, let’s make use of the shower.”
Jack didn’t need to be told twice and he was soon crowded into the shower cubicle with Jones, enjoying the fact that the space was small enough that he had the perfect excuse to rub up against Jones. The hot water was a pleasure against his sensitised skin and Jones dribbled some shower gel over him and worked up a lather before sliding a hand down Jack’s spine and slipping a finger inbetween the cheeks of his arse. Jack purred and leaned up against Jones, rolling his hips just enough to create some friction between them. He threw a careless arm around Jones’ waist and leaned forward for a kiss.
They took their time, less interested in bringing one another off than they were in exploring one another’s body now that the edge had been taken off their hunger. Jack was delighted to find that Jones was very responsive and gave strong vocal cues whenever Jack discovered another erogenous zone. He was no slouch in finding Jack’s special places, either, and Jack soon found himself hardening and grinding himself against Jones with more intent.
“Mmm, so good,” Ianto murmured, tilting his head back as Jack kissed and bit his way along the length of his shoulder and throat.
He reached down to take both his and Jack’s cock in his hand. He started to thrust gently, his other hand curving around to rest against one of the cheeks of Jack’s arse. Jack hummed his approval and adjusted his own movements to synchronise with Jones, enjoying the slow climb to climax. He loved shower sex. Mind you, he was quite fond of bed sex, bath sex, outdoor sex, office sex… He grinned and fondled Ianto’s balls while biting down on a shoulder. He loved sex, period, but having the right partner always made it that little bit special.
The water was nearly cold by the time they had come and cleaned themselves up again. They dried one another and then made their way to the bed, yawning as they climbed into bed and pulled the covers over one another. It seemed like second nature to pull Jones up against him and Jack made a mental note to think about that when he was a little more able to keep his eyes open.
OOO
Jack awoke to find himself in an empty bed. Sitting up and looking around, he could see no sign that he had had anyone with him last night. Even the pillow next to his had been fluffed up and the bedclothes had been smoothed. Apart from the banked-up fire, there was nothing to show that Jones had been there, and when Jack went to check on the bathroom there was fresh towels there and only faint signs that anyone had used it. If it hadn’t been for the fact that his body knew it had had sex, he might have wondered if he had dreamt it.
Jones had definitely slept in his bed. Jack remembered waking up at some point, finding the room in a dim gloom as the fire had died away to embers. Jones had been sleeping on his stomach, one arm flung across Jack, his face completely open and relaxed and showing his youth and vulnerability for the first time. Jack had studied him in the uncertain light and was a little surprised to feel a pang at the thought of leaving him behind when he left to go back to Cardiff. That didn’t usually happen and he wasn’t sure he was all that comfortable with it.
It looked as though he wasn’t the only one who felt unsettled. Jack decided that he was relieved as he had a quick wash and dressed before going down to breakfast. He found Claire tucking into a substantial breakfast and he went to make his own selection from the silver chafing dishes on the oak sideboard. As always, Sorcha laid a hearty table and Jack soon had a plate groaning with delicious food as he went over to sit down beside Claire. She eyed the plate and chuckled.
“If there was any justice in the world you would be the size of that Millennium Centre of yours,” she sniffed.
“I lead an active life,” Jack pointed out as he set to with an appetite. “Toast?” he inquired around a mouthful of scrambled egg and sausage.
Claire rolled her eyes. “Bloody colonial,” she growled as she rose to pull the bell-rope. “What?” she asked when Jack had to swallow hastily to stop himself from choking as he started laughing.
“That’s me, a colonial,” Jack agreed, knowing that she had no idea how unintentionally accurate she was being and finding that made it even funnier because of that.
The door opened and Jones came in bearing a tray. He brought it over to the table and set it down, revealing two toast racks filled with toast and a carafe of coffee.
“Psychic as ever, Ianto,” Claire said cheerfully as she came back to the table and promptly snaffled one of the toast racks.
“I try my best, milady,” Jones said with a smile, He turned to Jack and lifted the carafe. “Coffee, Captain?”
“Always,” Jack agreed fervently, handing over his cup.
There was no hint on Jones’ face that he had been in Jack’s bed a few hours ago. Jack admired such perfect control even as he felt the itch to beat it down. He’d seen Jones in the throes of passion, laughing and perfectly relaxed in sleep. He knew there were depths to this young man that he felt he needed to keep hidden for whatever reason, but Jack couldn’t help but feel that it was a shame that all that potential was being so ruthlessly suppressed.
He met Jones’ eyes and smiled tentatively, hoping that Jones wasn’t regretting the fact that they had gone to bed with one another. The younger man gazed back impassively for a long moment but just as Jack decided that he had, indeed, decided to pretend that nothing had happened, Jones’ eyes warmed and the very faintest of smiles curved his lips before he turned back to Claire.
“We received a message from the Matriach of the local Pack, milady, thanking us for our forbearance and apologising from the… oversight… regarding not informing us that the Pack intended to Hunt the rogue. She hopes to send her First Daughter to the House tonight in order to discuss the newborn’s placement.”
“Funny how diplomatic that woman gets when she’s after something,” Claire said sourly. “All right, get everything sorted for a formal meeting tonight. We’ll use the Observatory Room. I don’t think it will hurt to send out a subtle signal that we know their weaknesses.”
“Very good, milady.” Jones hesitated before turning his head in Jack’s direction. “Will you be staying with us, Captain?”
“I think I can cram you into my hectic schedule,” Jack decided as he scooped some scrambled egg onto the toast and crammed it into his mouth. “’s good,” he said, nodding.
Jones came close to boggling and Claire dissolved into giggles. “You are incorrigible,” she said with a shake of her head. “Still, you scrub up well. Maybe you can seduce the Daughter when she visits. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if you’ve bedded a werewolf before.”
Jack shook his head as he polished off the last of the mushrooms. “Nope. Spent a great couple of weeks with a werecat once. God, she was gorgeous,” he recalled with affection. “Lovely girl but could never quite suppress that pounce reflex. Got a bit awkward when I was trying to defuse those bombs, though.” He realised that the others were both staring at him in fascination. “What?”
“I never know when you’re trying to wind me up and when you’re telling the simple truth,” Claire said in exasperation. “And don’t give me the ’would I lie to you?’ look, either,” she continued. “Finish stuffing your face and then Ianto can take you to see that tech I wanted you to see.”
Jack hastily polished off the rest of his breakfast, half-listening to Claire and Jones discuss the day’s business, Jones having produced a PDA. It seemed that in addition to being the chauffer, butler, cook, field agent, archivist and IT support technician, Jones was also Claire’s PA. Hearing him mention a charity auction and a magazine shoot in the grounds, Jack realised that that extended to Claire’s civilian life, as well. He really did wonder when the youngster found time to sleep and he found himself thinking that he could use someone like Jones down in Cardiff. He shook himself free of the dangerous line of thinking and rose from the table after pouring one last cup of coffee.
“Need help with the washing up?” he asked.
“No, you don’t!” Claire said sharply. “Ianto, whatever you do, do not let this man anywhere near a pair of Marigold gloves!”
Jack chuckled, enjoying the expression on Jones’ face. He still helped to clear away the breakfast things, as did Claire, and decamped to the kitchen which they were then firmly shooed away from by Jones.
“I don’t know, you just can’t get the staff these days,” Jack said in an overdone huff.
“The peasants are revolting,” Claire agreed.
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Jack said, “especially when he’s in those suits!”
Claire giggled but eyed him speculatively as they made their way back up to her part of the House. “You like him, don’t you?”
“What’s not to like?” Jack said breezily.
She smacked him lightly on the arm. “I’m serious. You never acted like this around the others. I think he’s got past those defences of yours.”
“Just because he’s cute and smart and…” Jack’s voice trailed away in the face of Claire’s knowing smile and he sighed. “Did you bring me up here because you thought you might do a little matchmaking, Sorcha?”
She shook her head. “Not really but I might have thought that he’s wasted stuck up here. He has so much potential, Jack! You’ve seen it, haven’t you? I brought him up here to get him away from London and he’s had time to catch his breath and find his feet, but now he’s ready to fly. I know I’ve told him he’s free to go but that’s not strictly true because London will grab him again and I wouldn’t be able to pull off the same trick twice. A direct transfer to another Torchwood, though, would be perfectly in order.”
Jack hesitated. He was tempted, seriously tempted, but that in itself was enough to give him pause. He’d made it a rule never to get involved with members of his own team. He’d been burned that way before and what was messy and tiresome when he was just one of the team could easily become disastrous now he was the leader. He’d managed to keep a professional distance from Suzie and wouldn’t dream of seducing the fragile Tosh, while taking Owen to his bed was a complete recipe for disaster if he went ahead with his idea of hiring the man. Besides, he didn’t really think of them in that way, whereas Jones seemed to be the perfect combination of superlative team member and potential lover. Jack was very wary of perfection. It was a treacherous beast.
He wasn’t proof against the hopeful look in Claire’s eyes, though. “I’ll think about it,” he said, thinking that it would be easier to say no when he was back in Cardiff.
“Wonderful!” Claire said, clapping her hands together. “Now I have to go and play the lady of the manor. You can mooch around until Ianto’s ready to take you to the Archives. Don’t go anywhere near them until he’s with you. He’s very territorial where they’re concerned.”
Jack accepted the warning meekly. Besides, he didn’t have a clue where the Archives were, since they hadn’t had Archives when he’d come up the last time. He found a sunny room and filched a P.G Wodehouse from the library and settled down to read. He was barely a third of the way into the book before Jones appeared like the spiritual descendant of Jeeves. He raised an eyebrow in gentle inquiry.
“You like Wodehouse?”
Jack closed the book and looked down at it, smiling affectionately as he remembered times past that didn’t involve blood and death and despair. “Yeah, I liked him a lot,” he said quietly before he put the book to one side. “So! What about these Archives of yours?”
“They are mine,” Jones agreed with quiet pride as he led the way down to the cellars. “While the library is excellent, the artifact side of things had been allowed to lapse. When I came here I’m afraid that I found rooms full of stuff that hadn’t been tagged and just pushed in any old how. I thought it would be better if we knew what we had down here.”
They had reached a door that led down to a spiral staircase where there was another door. Jones pressed a brick next to the door that released to show a keypad. Jones tapped out the correct sequence and placed his hand against the scanner. The door opened and Jones gestured at Jack to precede him. His curiosity fully engaged, Jack walked in and his eyes widened as he took in the size of the Archives. Nothing like the scale of Torchwood Three, of course, but the knowledge that Jones had apparently organised the sequence of rooms, each the size of the main library in the House above on his own, made it more impressive. Jones led the way past tall, black steel shelves holding archive boxes to a small annexe off the main room. There was a wonderful old-fashioned desk with an ultra-modern computer set-up and a beautiful Tiffany desk-lamp. Behind the desk was a row of shelves with all manner of bits and pieces set on them. Jack eyed them with interest, going over to look.
“Captain-”
“Relax.” Jack threw Jones an amused look over his shoulder and very deliberately clasped his hands behind him. “I’m just looking,” he reassured the younger man as he turned back to check out the items on the shelves. “How do you classify all of these?”
Jones came over to stand beside him, genuine enthusiasm touching his face. “We have access to the open databases for Torchwood One, Two and Three, plus what there was from Four before it went wherever it went. In addition to that I have the hard-copy records of the House. I use these scanners here-”
He took Jack through the routine he had set up for examining, assessing, categorising and finally archiving the different artifacts. Jack was surprised at how close Jones had come to the system that Jack himself used, but Jones confessed that he had noticed and been impressed by the tagging system he had seen in the Torchwood Three reports and had adapted it for his own use. Jack grinned as Jones blushed furiously, loving the fact that the seemingly unflappable Welshman was suddenly shy and uncertain. He realised, however, that this archive was important to Jones because it was something that was entirely his and something he had personal control over.
“You’ve been doing a pretty good job,” Jack told him. “Mind if I give you a few pointers, though? I’ve been at this business a little bit longer than you.”
Jones smiled. “I’m always open to suggestions, Captain.”
Jack manfully suppressed the urge to come back with an innuendo. “Right then,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Let’s see what’s here.”
The hours passed by unnoticed as the two of them worked together. Jones’ initial hesitation vanished and he was soon discussing earlier artifacts with Jack that had baffled him previously. The two men blinked when Claire appeared with a tray of sandwiches and beer. She shook her head in exasperation as she waited for Jones to clear a space in the desk. Jack looked at his watch and whistled as he saw that a good chunk of the day had slipped by without their noticing.
“Honestly, you two are as bad as one another,” Claire snorted as she placed the tray on the desk. “Have you even got around to looking at that artifact I told you about?”
Jack nodded as he took a healthy bite out of the beef sandwich he had grabbed off the platter. “First thing Jones showed me,” he assured her.
“Could you get it to work?” Claire asked eagerly.
Jack shook his head as he took a swig of beer to clear his mouth. “Sorry, Claire, the energy cells aren’t just exhausted, they’re damaged. You know the way Saen tech works.”
Claire nodded dispiritedly. “Grown, not built. If it’s damaged, it needs to be regrown and that means access to a Saen healer.”
“Yep,” Jack agreed, “and that’s one thing we don’t have.”
Claire sighed. “I was hoping the energy cells were just exhausted.”
Jones had gone to pick up the intricate blue-grey artifact, studying it thoughtfully. “Saen are one of the good guys, right?”
“Good guys with attitude,” Jack agreed with a smile. “They’ll save your butt but cuff you upside the head for getting into trouble in the first place. Beautiful people but very fierce.”
“Just like the Scots,” Claire said with a grin as she snaffled a cheese and tomato sandwich from the tray and left them.”
“Or the Welsh,” Jack said very softly.
Jones turned to give him a startled look and, just for a moment, all the masks dropped and Jack saw the person behind all the carefully crafted personas. He started to speak but was cut off by the sound of his phone going off. He bit off a curse and dug it out, checking to see who was calling him. His heart sank when he saw Suzie’s name.
“Yeah?” he asked as he answered the call, watching Jones turn away to place the Saen device back on the shelf.
“Jack, we need you back in Cardiff as soon as possible.”
Jack felt a surge of irritation. This had been the first time he had left Cardiff apart from a couple of times he had had to go and ruin Hartman’s day in London. “Suzie, I’m in Scotland.”
“Oddly enough, I did remember that,” Suzie said acerbically. “I wouldn’t be phoning if this wasn’t important. We’ve got an alien vessel parked just outside Llanberis and they’re asking for you. By name and a transmitted image.” There was a pause. “The indigo paint job is… interesting.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “I’ll be right back. Don’t accept any kind of food or drink from them before I get back. Not even a glass of water, okay? Shit, this is all I need,” he swore as he snapped the phone closed.
“Trouble in Paradise?” Jones asked curiously.
“Worse. Teiomei in Llanberis. And knowing my luck, it’s probably mating season.” He scrubbed at his forehead and sighed. “I need to get back to Cardiff as soon as possible.”
Jones nodded, looking thoughtful. He pulled out his PDA and activated it, gesturing at Jack to precede him. “Let me see what I can do,” he said.
Jack wasn’t normally one to trust his fate to someone else but for some reason he went to pack his things and track down Claire to make his goodbyes, somehow certain that Jones would pull a rabbit out of the hat.
“I’m sorry you can’t stay longer, Jack,” Claire said sadly as she hugged him goodbye. “Come back again soon and I’ll call you about Ianto once you’ve sorted out your crisis and I’ve worked something out with the Matriarch.”
Jack hugged her back, feeling a genuine pang of sadness. He’d been having fun this time and he wished he could have stayed longer. He got so tired of his being chained to Cardiff sometimes, even though he remained through choice because he knew the Doctor would be along sooner or later. He looked around as Jones appeared, dressed in his chauffer’s uniform once more.
“I still don’t get to drive?” he pouted.
“Lady Torchwood has informed me of what happened the last time you were allowed to drive,” Jones said as he very firmly claimed the driver’s seat.
The journey passed with Jack protesting that Claire had been grossly exaggerating when she had told Jones the story of what happened the last time Jack had driven a Torchwood vehicle while staying at the House.
“-and how was I supposed to know that the field was mined?” he finished indignantly. He paused and realised where they were. “Uh, Jones, this is the middle of nowhere. I thought we were heading for the airport?”
“No, sir. I said you would be going home by air.”
Jones got out of the car and Jack followed, accepting his rucksack as Jones handed it over. He could hear a growing and familiar thunder and looked up into the sky as the Harrier appeared and came into land.
“We are owed some favours by the RAF,” Jones shouted over the growing roar. “This way you’ll get back as quickly as possible.”
Jack flashed Jones a delighted grin and watched as the Harrier started to settle to earth. He was poised to run over and climb on board but at the last moment he darted back and planted his lips against Jones’. After a startled moment, Jones returned the kiss with enthusiasm. Jack pulled back and gave Jones a brash grin.
“I haven’t finished with you, Jones Ianto Jones,” he shouted as he backed up. He threw off a careless salute before making for the empty rear cockpit on the Harrier trainer.
He settled in quickly and watched as the ground dropped away again as they lifted off. Jones remained where he was, lifting his hand in farewell as the jet took off. Jack sighed and shook his head. He didn’t need this kind of complication and Jones had trouble written all over him, but he had a nasty suspicion that he was going to be the kind of trouble that Jack had a problem resisting.
OOO
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Claire Sinclair-McLaren (OFC), Lister (OMC)
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: Adult for descriptions of sex acts
Spoilers: General, for series
Disclaimer: Not mine; they belong to the BBC.
Prompt: Day Seven of redismycolour
Summary: Jack Harkness knew Torchwood House held secrets but he didn’t realise that there was also a treasure there, as well.
Awareness returned on the usual jagged tsunami. Jack didn’t so much ‘come back to life’ as get flung away from death, crashing through the barrier that divided the dead from the living. He would lie gasping for breath under the sheer impact of life tearing through his body. He lay where he was for a moment, letting the aftershocks of resurrection die away and his heart settle back into a steady beat.
“-have to do something!”
Jones, Ianto Jones, Jack thought absently. The kid sounded agitated and when Jack turned his head to look he could see that Jones was definitely upset. After another second of so, the last of the post-revival fog lifted and Jack realised that the most probable cause would have to be Jones seeing Jack’s messy demise. Jack groaned. He tried to keep the reality of his condition as secret as possible. He hated being treated as a freak when he was endlessly and desperately searching for connections with people and places. Jones’ head snapped around in his direction and Jack realised he had heard the groan. Realising that he might as well face the music, Jack started to push himself up, then yelped in surprise as Jones literally hurled himself at him, pushing him back down flat.
“Duw, you’re alive! I could have sworn-“ Jones scrabbled for his comm.. “Lister, we have a medical emergency. Can you prep-“
Claire had joined them and gently laid her hand over Jones’, pulling it away from the comm. Before tapping her own. “Cancel that, Lister. False alarm.” She placed a hand on Jones’ lips as he started to protest, shaking her head.
“Everything okay, ma’am?” Lister asked.
“Yes, no problem. Ianto misunderstood something I said.”
“Very well, ma’am. I’ll bring the van.”
Jones had been staring up at Claire, but then he switched his attention back to Jack. Shaking himself free of Claire, Jones leaned forward and curled his hand against the nape of Jack’s neck. The move started out as tentative and Jack knew that Jones was braced to find ruined flesh. What he got was smooth, unmarked skin with drying blood matting Jack’s hair and the collars of his coat and shirt. Jack saw the moment the younger man’s eyes widened in disbelief and his touch became more searching. Jack submitted to the search passively, bracing himself for the almost inevitable horror and protestations he would get. Jones’ eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to give Jack a look of intrigued curiosity. Claire remained silent to one side of them, an unreadable look on her face. Jack knew he was being fanciful but it felt as if the world was holding its breath.
“Do you need more time or can we move out now?” Jones asked.
Now it was Jack’s turn to stare. He’d never had anyone, apart from Alex, take the revelation of his coming back to life so calmly. Claire looked just as surprised for a moment before relief flooding her face and she laughed and ruffled Jones’ hair.
“Come on, we need to get back to the House before the Pack catches up with us.”
“It was the rogue that attacked me?” Jack asked as he got to his feet.
Claire nodded and pointed to his left. “Ianto took him down while I dropped the newborn.”
Jack moved to check on the rogue. Even though he knew that Claire was a seasoned werewolf hunter and would have checked, he had bad memories of assuming a werewolf was dead and finding out the hard way that it was alive. While the parasite couldn’t raise the dead, it was capable of repairing what looked like fatal injuries. When he got to the carcass, however, it was pretty clear that this was one werewolf that wouldn’t be getting up again. There were two head wounds and either of them would have been fatal. He glanced over as Jones appeared with a body-bag.
“You use dum-dums?” he asked.
Jones gave him a sharp nod. “If it comes to my using a gun with a werewolf, I need to stop it and ordinary bullets don’t always work.”
“You always shoot to kill?” Jack kept his voice even but he was a little surprised at that. He hadn’t pegged Jones as being that cold-blooded.
The other man hesitated, looking over to where Claire was busy putting restraints on the sedated newborn. Satisfied that she was occupied, Jones turned back so he had his back to her and lifted open his jacket. Jack saw a shoulder holster with some kind of squat gun in it.
“Stun gun,” Jones said when Jack looked a question. “I designed it. Lady T doesn’t like my using it in the field but it’s effective enough against werewolves. Makes them lose co-ordination and slows their reflexes. Gives me time to take them down with a dart or net.”
“You didn’t do that here,” Jack observed as he took in the ruined werewolf’s head.
“I thought this one had killed you,” Jones shot back.
“Point,” Jack conceded and bent to help Jones get the werewolf’s body in the bag.
They worked quickly and efficiently and soon had the dead werewolf bagged. Lister arrived with the van and Jack and Jones went to help Claire load the newborn into the specially reinforced cage in the back. Jack turned back to go and get the rogue’s carcass and felt his heart stutter in his chest as he realised that they were facing the local Pack.
“Sorcha, we have company,” he tossed over his shoulder.
Claire turned around sharply and gasped when she saw the half-dozen werewolves gathered in a loose semi-circle. Lister uttered a soft but vehement curse while Jones was as silent as ever. The humans unconsciously bunched together before Claire took a deep breath and stepped forward.
“I speak for my Pack.”
After a moment a grizzled werewolf advanced a little. “I speak for this hunt,” he growled, the human words badly mangled by the changed mouth and tongue but still understandable.
“No Pack mother or daughter?” Claire asked sharply. “Was this hunt sanctioned?”
Jack watched in fascination. He knew from his reading of Torchwood reports that the mutated, home-grown variety of werewolf was evolving its own culture, creating social customs and laws that allowed them to flourish without coming into conflict with the larger human population. If humanity got it into its collective head that werewolves were a threat then the werewolves would be wiped out and the vast majority of them had the sense to realise that. The society was extremely hierarchal, with a huge emphasis on custom and traditions, with the females very much a dominant voice in most areas but especially any action that led werewolves into potential contact with humans. A hunt that had not been sanctioned by either a matriarch or a favoured daughter would be operating outside custom and law.
“The hunt was sanctioned. The Mother is heavy with child and the daughter attends.”
“Strength to the children, swift birth to the mother,” Claire said formally. Jack could see that the use of the correct response had gone down well. “I accept that the hunt is sanctioned. We killed the solitary to protect ourselves. Do you wish to claim the body?”
The werewolf snorted. “It is meat. We have no hunger.” Jack knew that in this context the statement meant that the Pack was disavowing all interests and rights to the rogue, but his relief was short-lived. “You hold a newborn against his will. He belongs with the Pack.”
He pointed in the direction of the van. Jack was startled when Jones immediately had his gun in his hand and aimed directly as the werewolf.
“You will not disrespect the favoured daughter of the House!” he snapped.
Jack knew he’d missed something. Even though Jones had drawn a weapon, none of the other werewolves were showing any real aggression. Claire was maintaining an air of arrogant indifference, refusing to make eye contact with the werewolf. Confused, Jack felt Lister come to stand beside him.
“Pointing in the presence of a mother or favoured daughter is considered bad form. Bit like spitting in the presence of the Queen,” Lister told him quietly.
“So they won’t go for Jones because he’s pulled a gun?” Jack murmured.
Lister shrugged. “It’s possible the spokesman might challenge him but it would be unusual and he’d probably catch hell from the matriarch if he did. Last thing she wants is to get Torchwood on her back.”
There was definitely a battle of wills going on between Jones and the werewolf. Taking his cue from the others, Jack remained silent as the conflict continued. Gradually, however, the werewolf’s head started to weave from side to side and then bowed down.
“No disrespect was intended to the favoured daughter. I used a human gesture for human understanding.”
“The courtesy in doing so is appreciated. No disrespect has been done to me,” Claire said.
Jones immediately lowered his gun and holstered it again before stepping back. The other werewolves also relaxed and Jack realised the crisis had passed with the integrity of both sides intact. He felt a nostalgic thrill, remembering times past when he was part of this kind of process, with two sides accepting and respecting their differences while also finding common ground. He missed that time with a deep ache.
“The newborn belongs with his own kind,” the werewolf persisted.
“The newborn came into being without guide or advice,” Claire shot back. “He has the right to choose his path, as set out in the Accord of the New Millennium.”
The werewolf snapped his jaws shut with a hard crash and growled while the others stirred restlessly. “The newborn belongs to us!”
“He belongs to himself!” Jones shouted.
“Enough!” Claire turned to glare at him, raising her hand commandingly. She waited until Jones dropped his eyes before turning back to the werewolf. “The cub’s words are also mine. The newborn will decide his own fate.”
“We will be permitted to put our case?”
“Of course. In accordance to custom. We lay claim to him in the meantime. He was captured by our Pack - he remains with us until he makes his decision.”
After a long moment, the werewolf jerked his head in agreement. “We accept your terms. We will come to your lair to discuss the matter.”
Claire nodded and they watched as the werewolves melted away into the dark. Once she was certain they were alone again, Claire heaved a sigh of relief before relaxing and throwing Jack a wicked smile.
“Never a dull moment when you visit us, eh, Jack?”
“Entertainment’s always worth the price of admission,” Jack agreed. “We taking tall, dead and gruesome back with us?” he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the dead werewolf.
“Yes. We’ll do an autopsy under controlled conditions and do a genetic breakdown on the parasite to monitor it. It usually pays to keep an eye on the rogues - if another mutation is going to hit, it’s likely to do so during an uncontrolled transfer. That’s how the Bloods started, after all.”
The trip back to the House was routine. Claire sent Jones with Lister and drove the Brooklands back herself, ignoring Jack’s less-than-subtle hints that he’d be happy to do it for her.
“That’s enough of that nonsense, Jack,” she said once they were back on the road. “How are you feeling?”
Jack flinched. He currently felt like he was going to leap out of his skin at any moment, the restless energy seething under his skin and prickling at his nerve endings. Mentally, however, he could feel the usual black depression threatening. Normally, if he had been back in Cardiff, he would have gone wandering restlessly, finding a willing body to couple with before relocating to a rooftop to brood on.
“When am I anything other than fine?” he demanded breezily.
Claire snorted. “I’ve read the reports my father and grandfather wrote, Jack Harkness, and I’ve seen you die before. You pay a high price for your immortality, so stop feeding me the macho bullshit and answer my question.”
Jack slumped down into his seat. “I’ll survive,” he said quietly. Like I have a choice, he thought bleakly.
“Can I help?” Claire asked.
This time Jack’s smile was genuine and unforced as he looked across at her. “You help just by being you, Sorcha. My one bright light in all the darkness. I should come up here more often.”
“Door’s always open, Jack,” she said promptly, lifting one hand off the steering wheel to grip one of his hands briefly. “I know you have some reason for clinging to Cardiff but if things ever change I want you up here with me.”
“Sometimes knowing that fact is the only thing that keeps me sane,” Jack confessed.
They reached the House soon after that. After determining that his help wasn’t needed, Jack made his way back to his room. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights since the moonlight was still bright even though the moon was now low on the horizon. He stripped and threw his soiled clothes into a haphazard heap in a corner before making for the bathroom, desperate to get clean. He’d had to send the coat away to get a specialist clean again, which was always awkward, but at least it hadn’t been ripped or torn this time.
One of the nice things about Torchwood House was that while it retained its old world charm, the plumbing was completely up to date. His compact en-suite had a power shower and Jack took full advantage of it, allowing the hot water to pummel away some of the crawling restlessness. He knew that Claire would come to his bed if he asked, and that they would find mutual pleasure in the process, but doing so would irrevocably change their relationship and he valued what they had too much to possibly ruin it for the sake of transitory physical satisfaction. Sex was usually a good way to bring himself back into focus, though. He sighed and fondled himself absently, half-inclined to wank off some of the energy but he couldn’t settle and he eventually gave up, turning off the shower. He dried himself off roughly and went back into the bedroom as he concentrated on towelling his hair dry.
He paused as he realised that he was no longer alone. The lights were still off but the room was now filled with a fitful brightness. After a couple of seconds Jack realised that Jones was kneeling in front of the rebuilt fire, putting the poker back in place. He had taken off the jacket and shoulder holster but was otherwise wearing the same outfit as before. Staring at him bathed in firelight, Jack was aware that a certain part of his anatomy had suddenly rediscovered its focus and he casually dropped the hand towel down in front of his groin. No need to freak the kid out by hitting on him just after he had seen Jack die a particularly gruesome death and then come back to life.
“I thought you’d prefer a fire in your room to take the chill off.” Jones’ eyes were unfathomable as he turned to look at Jack.
“Don’t you sleep?” Jack asked in amused exasperation. What would it take to shake this kid’s poise? He got a slight shrug in return.
“Still wound up from tonight.”
There was something in his voice and Jack caught it. He dropped the towel and stood, completely naked and half-erect, in the firelight. The expression on Jones’ face didn’t alter, but there was suddenly an additional tang to the air and Jack knew his guess had been correct. He moved towards Jones with the casual prowl of a predator who was now certain of a meal. He had planned to drag Jones to his feet and kiss him senseless while manoeuvring him in the direction of the bed. He was taken completely by surprise when Jones reached up to rest his hands on Jack’s hips and expertly went down on him.
“Oh.”
Jack reached out to steady himself on Jones’s shoulders before recovering balance and poise. He genuinely loved this kind of surprise and gave himself over to enjoying what was shaping up to be an expert blow-job. Whatever else Jones might be, he was no shrinking virgin. Looking down at the man, Jack found Jones looking up at him, the shadows in his eyes momentarily chased away by mischievous amusement. Bastard knew exactly what he was doing and was loving the effect he was having. Jack suddenly felt that connection he craved but so rarely got, stronger than he’d known it to happen for a long time. Judging from the way Jones’ eyes widened and he suddenly faltered, he felt something as well.
Jack grabbed at Jones’ hair and gave it a hard tug to make sure he had his attention, grunting when Jones retaliated with the judicious use of teeth scraping across sensitised skin. “Want to fuck me?” he asked hoarsely. There was no mistaking the surprise and flare of lust in the younger man’s eyes and Jack managed a breathless laugh. He gave Jones’ hair another hard tug. “Up and strip,” he ordered.
He made himself step back and watch as Jones got to his feet. The younger man stripped with an economy of motion that was beautiful to watch and the body that was steadily uncovered was more than easy on the eye. The sweater and t-shirt were pulled off to reveal a lightly furred chest which immediately had Jack’s fingers itching to explore it. Jones was fit without being overdeveloped and there was a delicious ribbon of darkness that began below the navel to lead down to what Jack saw was a well-formed cock that was just as aroused as his own. The arse was as delicious as he’d anticipated and the long legs were just made for wrapping around a lover and urging him on.
With a quiet growl, Jack moved in and grabbed at Jones, finding the younger man just as eager. They kissed passionately, hands exploring each other almost frantically. Jack thoroughly enjoyed this part of sex and normally liked to take his time, teasing the very best reactions out of his bedmates. Tonight, though, was about passion and release from tension and he gradually manoeuvred the two of them until they reached the bed.
“Lube and condoms are in the front pocket of my rucksack,” he said a little breathlessly. For a moment he didn’t think that Jones registered what he had said, but then he turned away and scrabbled for the supplies before turning back and reaching for Jack again.
They fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Frantic with need, they dispensed with finesse in the blind urge to climax. Jack gasped and arched up as he felt Jones’ lube-slick fingers probe and then slide in to prepare him. He reached out blindly and dragged Jones down for sloppy, open-mouthed kisses which were returned with equal passion before Jones pulled back with a grunt and positioned himself to thrust into Jack with one smooth motion that had Jack yelping in mingled pleasure and pain. Jones froze and gave him a look of concern.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jack managed to gasp. “It’s just been a while. Don’t stop!”
“Thank God!” Jones said fervently before starting to thrust, carefully at first, then more strongly as Jack started to relax and push back against him. He reached out to grasp Jack’s cock, pumping it in time to his own thrusts.
Both of them were so keyed up that it wasn’t long before they both came. Jones reared up with a strangled cry but Jack was more vocal, howling his satisfaction as he shuddered under his release. They both collapsed back onto the bed, panting and shivering under the aftershocks that travelled through them. Jack sighed with pleasure, feeling himself shift back into focus again as his body prickled and felt alive again. He shifted a little to gaze at Jones as he lay beside him, his body gleaming as the firelight danced off the sweat sheathing him.
“Thanks,” Jack said quietly, reaching out to run his fingers along the curve of Ianto’s shoulder, waist and hip.
For moment the familiar mask slid across Jones’ features. He looked away and took a deep breath before turning back to look at Jack, the mask falling away as he gave Jack a wonderfully shy smile. “Thank you. I think I needed this.” He removed the condom and started to get out of the bed.
“Where-” Jack swallowed his protest. He wasn’t even sure why he was questioning Jones’ leaving, since he was no stranger to one-night stands himself. There was just this feeling that Jones was worth more than one quick tumble, no matter how welcome or pleasurable.
Jones gave him an unreadable look. “I thought we could get cleaned up? Better than sleeping in our mess, although I can leave if you’d prefer…”
Jack breathed a sigh of relief, then wondered at his reaction. After a moment he dismissed his uncertainty, deciding to go with the flow. “What makes you think I’ve finished with you, Mr Jones?” He rolled over slightly and ran a delicate finger along Jones’ spine, loving the way Jones arched to his touch. “Hmm, can’t wait for my turn.” That earned him a quirk of those expressive eyebrows.
“What makes you think I’m going to let you top me?” Jones asked with what Jack hoped was mock severity. Jack fluttered his eyelashes and Jones laughed. “Come on, let’s make use of the shower.”
Jack didn’t need to be told twice and he was soon crowded into the shower cubicle with Jones, enjoying the fact that the space was small enough that he had the perfect excuse to rub up against Jones. The hot water was a pleasure against his sensitised skin and Jones dribbled some shower gel over him and worked up a lather before sliding a hand down Jack’s spine and slipping a finger inbetween the cheeks of his arse. Jack purred and leaned up against Jones, rolling his hips just enough to create some friction between them. He threw a careless arm around Jones’ waist and leaned forward for a kiss.
They took their time, less interested in bringing one another off than they were in exploring one another’s body now that the edge had been taken off their hunger. Jack was delighted to find that Jones was very responsive and gave strong vocal cues whenever Jack discovered another erogenous zone. He was no slouch in finding Jack’s special places, either, and Jack soon found himself hardening and grinding himself against Jones with more intent.
“Mmm, so good,” Ianto murmured, tilting his head back as Jack kissed and bit his way along the length of his shoulder and throat.
He reached down to take both his and Jack’s cock in his hand. He started to thrust gently, his other hand curving around to rest against one of the cheeks of Jack’s arse. Jack hummed his approval and adjusted his own movements to synchronise with Jones, enjoying the slow climb to climax. He loved shower sex. Mind you, he was quite fond of bed sex, bath sex, outdoor sex, office sex… He grinned and fondled Ianto’s balls while biting down on a shoulder. He loved sex, period, but having the right partner always made it that little bit special.
The water was nearly cold by the time they had come and cleaned themselves up again. They dried one another and then made their way to the bed, yawning as they climbed into bed and pulled the covers over one another. It seemed like second nature to pull Jones up against him and Jack made a mental note to think about that when he was a little more able to keep his eyes open.
OOO
Jack awoke to find himself in an empty bed. Sitting up and looking around, he could see no sign that he had had anyone with him last night. Even the pillow next to his had been fluffed up and the bedclothes had been smoothed. Apart from the banked-up fire, there was nothing to show that Jones had been there, and when Jack went to check on the bathroom there was fresh towels there and only faint signs that anyone had used it. If it hadn’t been for the fact that his body knew it had had sex, he might have wondered if he had dreamt it.
Jones had definitely slept in his bed. Jack remembered waking up at some point, finding the room in a dim gloom as the fire had died away to embers. Jones had been sleeping on his stomach, one arm flung across Jack, his face completely open and relaxed and showing his youth and vulnerability for the first time. Jack had studied him in the uncertain light and was a little surprised to feel a pang at the thought of leaving him behind when he left to go back to Cardiff. That didn’t usually happen and he wasn’t sure he was all that comfortable with it.
It looked as though he wasn’t the only one who felt unsettled. Jack decided that he was relieved as he had a quick wash and dressed before going down to breakfast. He found Claire tucking into a substantial breakfast and he went to make his own selection from the silver chafing dishes on the oak sideboard. As always, Sorcha laid a hearty table and Jack soon had a plate groaning with delicious food as he went over to sit down beside Claire. She eyed the plate and chuckled.
“If there was any justice in the world you would be the size of that Millennium Centre of yours,” she sniffed.
“I lead an active life,” Jack pointed out as he set to with an appetite. “Toast?” he inquired around a mouthful of scrambled egg and sausage.
Claire rolled her eyes. “Bloody colonial,” she growled as she rose to pull the bell-rope. “What?” she asked when Jack had to swallow hastily to stop himself from choking as he started laughing.
“That’s me, a colonial,” Jack agreed, knowing that she had no idea how unintentionally accurate she was being and finding that made it even funnier because of that.
The door opened and Jones came in bearing a tray. He brought it over to the table and set it down, revealing two toast racks filled with toast and a carafe of coffee.
“Psychic as ever, Ianto,” Claire said cheerfully as she came back to the table and promptly snaffled one of the toast racks.
“I try my best, milady,” Jones said with a smile, He turned to Jack and lifted the carafe. “Coffee, Captain?”
“Always,” Jack agreed fervently, handing over his cup.
There was no hint on Jones’ face that he had been in Jack’s bed a few hours ago. Jack admired such perfect control even as he felt the itch to beat it down. He’d seen Jones in the throes of passion, laughing and perfectly relaxed in sleep. He knew there were depths to this young man that he felt he needed to keep hidden for whatever reason, but Jack couldn’t help but feel that it was a shame that all that potential was being so ruthlessly suppressed.
He met Jones’ eyes and smiled tentatively, hoping that Jones wasn’t regretting the fact that they had gone to bed with one another. The younger man gazed back impassively for a long moment but just as Jack decided that he had, indeed, decided to pretend that nothing had happened, Jones’ eyes warmed and the very faintest of smiles curved his lips before he turned back to Claire.
“We received a message from the Matriach of the local Pack, milady, thanking us for our forbearance and apologising from the… oversight… regarding not informing us that the Pack intended to Hunt the rogue. She hopes to send her First Daughter to the House tonight in order to discuss the newborn’s placement.”
“Funny how diplomatic that woman gets when she’s after something,” Claire said sourly. “All right, get everything sorted for a formal meeting tonight. We’ll use the Observatory Room. I don’t think it will hurt to send out a subtle signal that we know their weaknesses.”
“Very good, milady.” Jones hesitated before turning his head in Jack’s direction. “Will you be staying with us, Captain?”
“I think I can cram you into my hectic schedule,” Jack decided as he scooped some scrambled egg onto the toast and crammed it into his mouth. “’s good,” he said, nodding.
Jones came close to boggling and Claire dissolved into giggles. “You are incorrigible,” she said with a shake of her head. “Still, you scrub up well. Maybe you can seduce the Daughter when she visits. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if you’ve bedded a werewolf before.”
Jack shook his head as he polished off the last of the mushrooms. “Nope. Spent a great couple of weeks with a werecat once. God, she was gorgeous,” he recalled with affection. “Lovely girl but could never quite suppress that pounce reflex. Got a bit awkward when I was trying to defuse those bombs, though.” He realised that the others were both staring at him in fascination. “What?”
“I never know when you’re trying to wind me up and when you’re telling the simple truth,” Claire said in exasperation. “And don’t give me the ’would I lie to you?’ look, either,” she continued. “Finish stuffing your face and then Ianto can take you to see that tech I wanted you to see.”
Jack hastily polished off the rest of his breakfast, half-listening to Claire and Jones discuss the day’s business, Jones having produced a PDA. It seemed that in addition to being the chauffer, butler, cook, field agent, archivist and IT support technician, Jones was also Claire’s PA. Hearing him mention a charity auction and a magazine shoot in the grounds, Jack realised that that extended to Claire’s civilian life, as well. He really did wonder when the youngster found time to sleep and he found himself thinking that he could use someone like Jones down in Cardiff. He shook himself free of the dangerous line of thinking and rose from the table after pouring one last cup of coffee.
“Need help with the washing up?” he asked.
“No, you don’t!” Claire said sharply. “Ianto, whatever you do, do not let this man anywhere near a pair of Marigold gloves!”
Jack chuckled, enjoying the expression on Jones’ face. He still helped to clear away the breakfast things, as did Claire, and decamped to the kitchen which they were then firmly shooed away from by Jones.
“I don’t know, you just can’t get the staff these days,” Jack said in an overdone huff.
“The peasants are revolting,” Claire agreed.
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Jack said, “especially when he’s in those suits!”
Claire giggled but eyed him speculatively as they made their way back up to her part of the House. “You like him, don’t you?”
“What’s not to like?” Jack said breezily.
She smacked him lightly on the arm. “I’m serious. You never acted like this around the others. I think he’s got past those defences of yours.”
“Just because he’s cute and smart and…” Jack’s voice trailed away in the face of Claire’s knowing smile and he sighed. “Did you bring me up here because you thought you might do a little matchmaking, Sorcha?”
She shook her head. “Not really but I might have thought that he’s wasted stuck up here. He has so much potential, Jack! You’ve seen it, haven’t you? I brought him up here to get him away from London and he’s had time to catch his breath and find his feet, but now he’s ready to fly. I know I’ve told him he’s free to go but that’s not strictly true because London will grab him again and I wouldn’t be able to pull off the same trick twice. A direct transfer to another Torchwood, though, would be perfectly in order.”
Jack hesitated. He was tempted, seriously tempted, but that in itself was enough to give him pause. He’d made it a rule never to get involved with members of his own team. He’d been burned that way before and what was messy and tiresome when he was just one of the team could easily become disastrous now he was the leader. He’d managed to keep a professional distance from Suzie and wouldn’t dream of seducing the fragile Tosh, while taking Owen to his bed was a complete recipe for disaster if he went ahead with his idea of hiring the man. Besides, he didn’t really think of them in that way, whereas Jones seemed to be the perfect combination of superlative team member and potential lover. Jack was very wary of perfection. It was a treacherous beast.
He wasn’t proof against the hopeful look in Claire’s eyes, though. “I’ll think about it,” he said, thinking that it would be easier to say no when he was back in Cardiff.
“Wonderful!” Claire said, clapping her hands together. “Now I have to go and play the lady of the manor. You can mooch around until Ianto’s ready to take you to the Archives. Don’t go anywhere near them until he’s with you. He’s very territorial where they’re concerned.”
Jack accepted the warning meekly. Besides, he didn’t have a clue where the Archives were, since they hadn’t had Archives when he’d come up the last time. He found a sunny room and filched a P.G Wodehouse from the library and settled down to read. He was barely a third of the way into the book before Jones appeared like the spiritual descendant of Jeeves. He raised an eyebrow in gentle inquiry.
“You like Wodehouse?”
Jack closed the book and looked down at it, smiling affectionately as he remembered times past that didn’t involve blood and death and despair. “Yeah, I liked him a lot,” he said quietly before he put the book to one side. “So! What about these Archives of yours?”
“They are mine,” Jones agreed with quiet pride as he led the way down to the cellars. “While the library is excellent, the artifact side of things had been allowed to lapse. When I came here I’m afraid that I found rooms full of stuff that hadn’t been tagged and just pushed in any old how. I thought it would be better if we knew what we had down here.”
They had reached a door that led down to a spiral staircase where there was another door. Jones pressed a brick next to the door that released to show a keypad. Jones tapped out the correct sequence and placed his hand against the scanner. The door opened and Jones gestured at Jack to precede him. His curiosity fully engaged, Jack walked in and his eyes widened as he took in the size of the Archives. Nothing like the scale of Torchwood Three, of course, but the knowledge that Jones had apparently organised the sequence of rooms, each the size of the main library in the House above on his own, made it more impressive. Jones led the way past tall, black steel shelves holding archive boxes to a small annexe off the main room. There was a wonderful old-fashioned desk with an ultra-modern computer set-up and a beautiful Tiffany desk-lamp. Behind the desk was a row of shelves with all manner of bits and pieces set on them. Jack eyed them with interest, going over to look.
“Captain-”
“Relax.” Jack threw Jones an amused look over his shoulder and very deliberately clasped his hands behind him. “I’m just looking,” he reassured the younger man as he turned back to check out the items on the shelves. “How do you classify all of these?”
Jones came over to stand beside him, genuine enthusiasm touching his face. “We have access to the open databases for Torchwood One, Two and Three, plus what there was from Four before it went wherever it went. In addition to that I have the hard-copy records of the House. I use these scanners here-”
He took Jack through the routine he had set up for examining, assessing, categorising and finally archiving the different artifacts. Jack was surprised at how close Jones had come to the system that Jack himself used, but Jones confessed that he had noticed and been impressed by the tagging system he had seen in the Torchwood Three reports and had adapted it for his own use. Jack grinned as Jones blushed furiously, loving the fact that the seemingly unflappable Welshman was suddenly shy and uncertain. He realised, however, that this archive was important to Jones because it was something that was entirely his and something he had personal control over.
“You’ve been doing a pretty good job,” Jack told him. “Mind if I give you a few pointers, though? I’ve been at this business a little bit longer than you.”
Jones smiled. “I’m always open to suggestions, Captain.”
Jack manfully suppressed the urge to come back with an innuendo. “Right then,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Let’s see what’s here.”
The hours passed by unnoticed as the two of them worked together. Jones’ initial hesitation vanished and he was soon discussing earlier artifacts with Jack that had baffled him previously. The two men blinked when Claire appeared with a tray of sandwiches and beer. She shook her head in exasperation as she waited for Jones to clear a space in the desk. Jack looked at his watch and whistled as he saw that a good chunk of the day had slipped by without their noticing.
“Honestly, you two are as bad as one another,” Claire snorted as she placed the tray on the desk. “Have you even got around to looking at that artifact I told you about?”
Jack nodded as he took a healthy bite out of the beef sandwich he had grabbed off the platter. “First thing Jones showed me,” he assured her.
“Could you get it to work?” Claire asked eagerly.
Jack shook his head as he took a swig of beer to clear his mouth. “Sorry, Claire, the energy cells aren’t just exhausted, they’re damaged. You know the way Saen tech works.”
Claire nodded dispiritedly. “Grown, not built. If it’s damaged, it needs to be regrown and that means access to a Saen healer.”
“Yep,” Jack agreed, “and that’s one thing we don’t have.”
Claire sighed. “I was hoping the energy cells were just exhausted.”
Jones had gone to pick up the intricate blue-grey artifact, studying it thoughtfully. “Saen are one of the good guys, right?”
“Good guys with attitude,” Jack agreed with a smile. “They’ll save your butt but cuff you upside the head for getting into trouble in the first place. Beautiful people but very fierce.”
“Just like the Scots,” Claire said with a grin as she snaffled a cheese and tomato sandwich from the tray and left them.”
“Or the Welsh,” Jack said very softly.
Jones turned to give him a startled look and, just for a moment, all the masks dropped and Jack saw the person behind all the carefully crafted personas. He started to speak but was cut off by the sound of his phone going off. He bit off a curse and dug it out, checking to see who was calling him. His heart sank when he saw Suzie’s name.
“Yeah?” he asked as he answered the call, watching Jones turn away to place the Saen device back on the shelf.
“Jack, we need you back in Cardiff as soon as possible.”
Jack felt a surge of irritation. This had been the first time he had left Cardiff apart from a couple of times he had had to go and ruin Hartman’s day in London. “Suzie, I’m in Scotland.”
“Oddly enough, I did remember that,” Suzie said acerbically. “I wouldn’t be phoning if this wasn’t important. We’ve got an alien vessel parked just outside Llanberis and they’re asking for you. By name and a transmitted image.” There was a pause. “The indigo paint job is… interesting.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “I’ll be right back. Don’t accept any kind of food or drink from them before I get back. Not even a glass of water, okay? Shit, this is all I need,” he swore as he snapped the phone closed.
“Trouble in Paradise?” Jones asked curiously.
“Worse. Teiomei in Llanberis. And knowing my luck, it’s probably mating season.” He scrubbed at his forehead and sighed. “I need to get back to Cardiff as soon as possible.”
Jones nodded, looking thoughtful. He pulled out his PDA and activated it, gesturing at Jack to precede him. “Let me see what I can do,” he said.
Jack wasn’t normally one to trust his fate to someone else but for some reason he went to pack his things and track down Claire to make his goodbyes, somehow certain that Jones would pull a rabbit out of the hat.
“I’m sorry you can’t stay longer, Jack,” Claire said sadly as she hugged him goodbye. “Come back again soon and I’ll call you about Ianto once you’ve sorted out your crisis and I’ve worked something out with the Matriarch.”
Jack hugged her back, feeling a genuine pang of sadness. He’d been having fun this time and he wished he could have stayed longer. He got so tired of his being chained to Cardiff sometimes, even though he remained through choice because he knew the Doctor would be along sooner or later. He looked around as Jones appeared, dressed in his chauffer’s uniform once more.
“I still don’t get to drive?” he pouted.
“Lady Torchwood has informed me of what happened the last time you were allowed to drive,” Jones said as he very firmly claimed the driver’s seat.
The journey passed with Jack protesting that Claire had been grossly exaggerating when she had told Jones the story of what happened the last time Jack had driven a Torchwood vehicle while staying at the House.
“-and how was I supposed to know that the field was mined?” he finished indignantly. He paused and realised where they were. “Uh, Jones, this is the middle of nowhere. I thought we were heading for the airport?”
“No, sir. I said you would be going home by air.”
Jones got out of the car and Jack followed, accepting his rucksack as Jones handed it over. He could hear a growing and familiar thunder and looked up into the sky as the Harrier appeared and came into land.
“We are owed some favours by the RAF,” Jones shouted over the growing roar. “This way you’ll get back as quickly as possible.”
Jack flashed Jones a delighted grin and watched as the Harrier started to settle to earth. He was poised to run over and climb on board but at the last moment he darted back and planted his lips against Jones’. After a startled moment, Jones returned the kiss with enthusiasm. Jack pulled back and gave Jones a brash grin.
“I haven’t finished with you, Jones Ianto Jones,” he shouted as he backed up. He threw off a careless salute before making for the empty rear cockpit on the Harrier trainer.
He settled in quickly and watched as the ground dropped away again as they lifted off. Jones remained where he was, lifting his hand in farewell as the jet took off. Jack sighed and shook his head. He didn’t need this kind of complication and Jones had trouble written all over him, but he had a nasty suspicion that he was going to be the kind of trouble that Jack had a problem resisting.
OOO