Year of the Cat - Chapter 2
Author's Note: Don't own, of course. Big thanks to Patelyne for continuing with the big damn hero/editing skillz. She has mad ones. Anywho, yeah - here is the next part. Let me know what ya think. This is, of course, a sequel to "Christmas with the Jones."
**--**
The cog door rolled back to reveal Jack and Ianto, as ready for work as either of them was going to be. Gwen was already at her desk, and looked up to see Ianto leading their boss in.
“Too much last night, Jack?” she laughed, pushing her hair out of her face.
Jack growled in the back of his throat as he passed her. “How is it that you are even on your feet? I thought you were matching me drink for drink.”
Gwen smiled widely, shrugging. “'M Welsh.”
“Great. Surrounded by them now.” Jack grumbled. “Shoot me, Ianto?”
“No can do, Jack.” Ianto turned to go into the archives - they were a mess again. He half suspected that Jack was going down there when he got bored and poking around, but he kept forgetting to ask him.
Jack's voice came out as a whine. “Please, Gwen?”
She shook her head.
“I'll buy you anything you want.”
She raised an eyebrow in thought. Ianto cleared his throat with what sounded like 'decaf'. “I can't.” She shook her head.
Jack threw back his head and trudged the rest of the way to his office. “No-body loves me!” He moaned, dragging up the stairs. What he really wanted to do was take a nap. He wondered to himself if he could just sneak down into his old room without Ianto noticing.
**--**--**
The cat-woman led him down what looked to be an abandoned corridor to a sparsely decorated room. Jack blinked. It was such a contrast to the teal silk with delicate silver threads running through it that clung to her in all the right ways. There were boxes that had been ripped open strewn around carelessly, forgotten.
“You live here?” Jack was in the process of being pushed into a chair as he asked.
“Frequently,” she answered, removing the scarf she had had wrapped about her head.
Jack could now see that she was indeed feline in form, thought she walked on her hind legs - hind legs that were shapely and more humanoid than not. And, he noted, she had no tail. Jack quickly took stock of the situation. He could either say his goodbyes and leave this woman, or - and this seemed the most sensible,he could stay on and find out what was going on in more detail. He took the route he was more familiar with and settled in.
“Well, are you going to say something or try and figure me out?” It was terribly cliched, but, to Jack, it sounded as if she were purring her words.
“What were you running from?” He picked up an apple from a basket near him and bit.
She sat in front of him, her legs crossed. “You mean what were we running from...” She plucked the fruit from him and took a bite. Jack watched the juice run from her fangs with interest.
“Okay.” He leaned as close to her as he could, “What were we running from?” Jack reached for the apple, but she put it in her mouth for another bite. He smiled the grin that he had had for all his 24 years before leaning forward and catching the other side in his mouth. He could feel her grin, even around the apple.
Taking another bite and leaning back, wiping the juice on her sleeve, the side of her mouth curved a little. “Not what, but, rather who.”
Jack's eyebrow quirked as he contemplated the apple. “Okay, who?”
She was quick, he would give her that. In the space of a few seconds, she had closed the space between them. Jack could feel her whiskers brush on his cheek, a feeling he didn't at all mind. In fact, he was thinking he rather liked it. “The men who are trying to steal my soul.”
“I'm not sure I understand.” Jack was still so close; he had no intention of moving - and he hoped she didn't either.
Another of her whiskers brushed his face as she turned her head ever-so-slightly. “I'm not sure I want you to.”
“Then why take me with you?”
She pushed the apple from his hand as he was going for another bite and put her head in his lap, looking up at him with beautiful green eyes. “Because you are pretty. I always wanted a pet...”
Jack felt his breath hitch as she nuzzled his thigh. Maybe this is what he needed after everything that had happened in the past year - watching Marcus die had taken a part of him with it. Jack made up his mind right then and there that he was not going to be on that transport leaving out of town in the morning. “A pet?”
She looked up at him again, her intentions clear. “A pet.”
“I don't do collars,” Jack quipped, placing a hand low on her shoulder and rubbing lazy circles.
She laughed and his heart melted. There was nowhere else he would rather be in the whole of the universe. “What's your name?”
Jack opened his mouth to tell her...
“You better not be sleeping up there!” Ianto's voice brought him abruptly from the dream. Soon, the man was throwing a large stack of folders on Jack's desk. “You need to check these.”
Jack lifted his head blearily, wiping at the thin line of spittle from his lip. “Aww, come on, Yan...”
“No whining, sir,” Ianto clapped his hands, making Jack hold his head. “Time to get to work.”
“You hate me,” Jack groaned, staring at what he considered to be a mountain of paperwork. “Why do you hate me, Ianto Jones?”
“I don't hate you, Jack.” Ianto sighed, shaking his head. “I'll go get you a cup of coffee.”
“But, Ianto?” Jack let his head loll backwards.
“Yes, Jack?” Ianto sighed heavily, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“Make it a quiet cup.” Jack leaned to put his head on his folded arms. “That one at home was so noisy...”
“Jack, that was the sound of me making the coffee.” Ianto spoke slowly and clearly. “Unless you want instant, then I have to make noise.”
“Can't you make noise quietly?” Jack tried to block out the sounds of the marching band that he was sure was only in his head.
Ianto looked disbelieving that Jack would even suggest something like that. “I can quietly make decaf. The beans are already ground...”
“I ask you again: why do you hate me, Ianto Jones?” Jack made the most pitiful face he could.
Ianto sighed his most put-upon sigh as, without another word, he turned to get the coffee that Jack needed. He was afraid that if he didn't take care of Jack, he would end up shooting him; not to put him out of his misery, but to save the rest of them from it.
“What's going on up there?” Gwen called over to Ianto as she saw him pass by.
“Nothing.” Ianto called back, “Oh, he wants us to make as much noise as possible; says it helps with his headache for some reason.”
“That's odd.”
“That's Jack.” He smiled before continuing. “You want some coffee?”
“You're a doll!” Gwen declared. “I don't think I'm ever going to get the hang of this system. Every time I think I understand, it updates itself.” She frowned at the screen before her.
“And you, Martha?” Ianto called over the railing into the operating theater as he passed.
The medic looked up with a grin. “If I wasn't already promised to someone, I would ask you to marry me!”
“You just don't want to have to change your monograms,” Ianto laughed back. “Like usual?”
“Cut back on the shots. I don't want to be jittery cutting this thing up.” Martha wrinkled her nose at the alien currently occupying the stainless table in front of her.
“No problem!” Ianto laughed as he went off to complete the orders. He briefly contemplated making Jack's drink a decaf out of sheer meanness, but decided against it when he realized that it would mean more whining. Instead, he made a mental note to cut Jack off earlier when they went out drinking so as to avoid a repeat of the day so far.
Ianto was almost finished with the drinks when there was a loud sound of metal hitting the floor and rolling around a bit, followed by what was unmistakably the sound of Martha Jones screaming - very high pitched. He closed his own eyes to the sound, holding a wince at the the inevitable sound of Jack's office door being thrown open.
“What the hell was that?!?” Jack spoke as loud as he dared - which, given the headache he claimed to have - was pretty loud.
“Sorry,” Martha responded from where she had been working. “Something...exploded - for lack of a better word. Scared me a little.”
Jack groaned and sat heavily on the steps, head in hands. “Gwen Cooper, if ever you have loved me - shoot me.”
“I can't,” Gwen never even looked up from what she was doing.
Jack whined and stomped his feet like a petulant child. “Guh-when! If you wanted me to shoot you, I would...”
“No you wouldn't.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard.
Jack winced with every keystroke. “But I would.”
She stopped typing and turned her chair to face Jack. “Jack. Why would I ever ask you to shoot me?”
“Technicality.” The throbbing did not stop, no matter if his eyes were opened or closed, he noticed, so he left them open.
“Stop pestering Gwen, Jack,” Ianto admonished, handing her a steaming mug. “I told you - no one is going to shoot you. Quit asking.”
“Martha?” Jack ignored him.
She appeared at the top of the stairs, pulling of the now-soiled apron. “Yes, Jack, my darling?”
“Do you love me?” He turned his reddened eyes to her.
“Not enough to shoot you.” She smiled as she accepted her own beverage from Ianto's tray.
“That is not love,” Jack muttered, reaching for his own mug. Ianto held it just out of reach.
“Not so fast, sir.”
“I'll have you know that I have no qualms about shooting you,” Jack replied, hardening his face. “Hand over the coffee.”
“Not until you give me your gun.” Ianto held the tray out for Jack to place it on.
Closing his eyes, Jack took a deep breath and reached in his holster. “Why do you hate me, Ianto Jones?”
“If, by 'hate', you mean 'worship the ground you walk on', then, yes, Jack, Ianto hates you,” Gwen informed him. “Just give him the gun.”
“Still would shoot any of you if you asked me,” he mumbled, placing the Webley on the tray.
There was a snort of a laugh from Gwen's direction. Ianto looked quickly at her and she pursed her lips in apology. “So, Jack, that's a nice watch, I meant to tell you last night,” she recovered.
Jack looked down at his wrist. He had forgotten he was still wearing the watch Ianto had pressed him to wear. “Thanks. It's Ianto's. Does look good though.” He shrugged, then remembered why he had banned that action from himself earlier in the day. “Do I get coffee now, Ianto?”
“Yes, Jack, you get coffee now.” Ianto handed him the mug and turned to set the tray down and hide the gun from Jack.
“Oh, Yan?” Jack called, inhaling the aroma of the brew. Ianto paused and looked over his shoulder. “I was wrong, you don't hate me at all - you love me.”
“Yes, Jack, I love you.”
“Can I have my gun back?”
“Jack?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up and drink your coffee - your next might be decaf.”
This way to Chapter Three!
**--**
The cog door rolled back to reveal Jack and Ianto, as ready for work as either of them was going to be. Gwen was already at her desk, and looked up to see Ianto leading their boss in.
“Too much last night, Jack?” she laughed, pushing her hair out of her face.
Jack growled in the back of his throat as he passed her. “How is it that you are even on your feet? I thought you were matching me drink for drink.”
Gwen smiled widely, shrugging. “'M Welsh.”
“Great. Surrounded by them now.” Jack grumbled. “Shoot me, Ianto?”
“No can do, Jack.” Ianto turned to go into the archives - they were a mess again. He half suspected that Jack was going down there when he got bored and poking around, but he kept forgetting to ask him.
Jack's voice came out as a whine. “Please, Gwen?”
She shook her head.
“I'll buy you anything you want.”
She raised an eyebrow in thought. Ianto cleared his throat with what sounded like 'decaf'. “I can't.” She shook her head.
Jack threw back his head and trudged the rest of the way to his office. “No-body loves me!” He moaned, dragging up the stairs. What he really wanted to do was take a nap. He wondered to himself if he could just sneak down into his old room without Ianto noticing.
**--**--**
The cat-woman led him down what looked to be an abandoned corridor to a sparsely decorated room. Jack blinked. It was such a contrast to the teal silk with delicate silver threads running through it that clung to her in all the right ways. There were boxes that had been ripped open strewn around carelessly, forgotten.
“You live here?” Jack was in the process of being pushed into a chair as he asked.
“Frequently,” she answered, removing the scarf she had had wrapped about her head.
Jack could now see that she was indeed feline in form, thought she walked on her hind legs - hind legs that were shapely and more humanoid than not. And, he noted, she had no tail. Jack quickly took stock of the situation. He could either say his goodbyes and leave this woman, or - and this seemed the most sensible,he could stay on and find out what was going on in more detail. He took the route he was more familiar with and settled in.
“Well, are you going to say something or try and figure me out?” It was terribly cliched, but, to Jack, it sounded as if she were purring her words.
“What were you running from?” He picked up an apple from a basket near him and bit.
She sat in front of him, her legs crossed. “You mean what were we running from...” She plucked the fruit from him and took a bite. Jack watched the juice run from her fangs with interest.
“Okay.” He leaned as close to her as he could, “What were we running from?” Jack reached for the apple, but she put it in her mouth for another bite. He smiled the grin that he had had for all his 24 years before leaning forward and catching the other side in his mouth. He could feel her grin, even around the apple.
Taking another bite and leaning back, wiping the juice on her sleeve, the side of her mouth curved a little. “Not what, but, rather who.”
Jack's eyebrow quirked as he contemplated the apple. “Okay, who?”
She was quick, he would give her that. In the space of a few seconds, she had closed the space between them. Jack could feel her whiskers brush on his cheek, a feeling he didn't at all mind. In fact, he was thinking he rather liked it. “The men who are trying to steal my soul.”
“I'm not sure I understand.” Jack was still so close; he had no intention of moving - and he hoped she didn't either.
Another of her whiskers brushed his face as she turned her head ever-so-slightly. “I'm not sure I want you to.”
“Then why take me with you?”
She pushed the apple from his hand as he was going for another bite and put her head in his lap, looking up at him with beautiful green eyes. “Because you are pretty. I always wanted a pet...”
Jack felt his breath hitch as she nuzzled his thigh. Maybe this is what he needed after everything that had happened in the past year - watching Marcus die had taken a part of him with it. Jack made up his mind right then and there that he was not going to be on that transport leaving out of town in the morning. “A pet?”
She looked up at him again, her intentions clear. “A pet.”
“I don't do collars,” Jack quipped, placing a hand low on her shoulder and rubbing lazy circles.
She laughed and his heart melted. There was nowhere else he would rather be in the whole of the universe. “What's your name?”
Jack opened his mouth to tell her...
“You better not be sleeping up there!” Ianto's voice brought him abruptly from the dream. Soon, the man was throwing a large stack of folders on Jack's desk. “You need to check these.”
Jack lifted his head blearily, wiping at the thin line of spittle from his lip. “Aww, come on, Yan...”
“No whining, sir,” Ianto clapped his hands, making Jack hold his head. “Time to get to work.”
“You hate me,” Jack groaned, staring at what he considered to be a mountain of paperwork. “Why do you hate me, Ianto Jones?”
“I don't hate you, Jack.” Ianto sighed, shaking his head. “I'll go get you a cup of coffee.”
“But, Ianto?” Jack let his head loll backwards.
“Yes, Jack?” Ianto sighed heavily, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“Make it a quiet cup.” Jack leaned to put his head on his folded arms. “That one at home was so noisy...”
“Jack, that was the sound of me making the coffee.” Ianto spoke slowly and clearly. “Unless you want instant, then I have to make noise.”
“Can't you make noise quietly?” Jack tried to block out the sounds of the marching band that he was sure was only in his head.
Ianto looked disbelieving that Jack would even suggest something like that. “I can quietly make decaf. The beans are already ground...”
“I ask you again: why do you hate me, Ianto Jones?” Jack made the most pitiful face he could.
Ianto sighed his most put-upon sigh as, without another word, he turned to get the coffee that Jack needed. He was afraid that if he didn't take care of Jack, he would end up shooting him; not to put him out of his misery, but to save the rest of them from it.
“What's going on up there?” Gwen called over to Ianto as she saw him pass by.
“Nothing.” Ianto called back, “Oh, he wants us to make as much noise as possible; says it helps with his headache for some reason.”
“That's odd.”
“That's Jack.” He smiled before continuing. “You want some coffee?”
“You're a doll!” Gwen declared. “I don't think I'm ever going to get the hang of this system. Every time I think I understand, it updates itself.” She frowned at the screen before her.
“And you, Martha?” Ianto called over the railing into the operating theater as he passed.
The medic looked up with a grin. “If I wasn't already promised to someone, I would ask you to marry me!”
“You just don't want to have to change your monograms,” Ianto laughed back. “Like usual?”
“Cut back on the shots. I don't want to be jittery cutting this thing up.” Martha wrinkled her nose at the alien currently occupying the stainless table in front of her.
“No problem!” Ianto laughed as he went off to complete the orders. He briefly contemplated making Jack's drink a decaf out of sheer meanness, but decided against it when he realized that it would mean more whining. Instead, he made a mental note to cut Jack off earlier when they went out drinking so as to avoid a repeat of the day so far.
Ianto was almost finished with the drinks when there was a loud sound of metal hitting the floor and rolling around a bit, followed by what was unmistakably the sound of Martha Jones screaming - very high pitched. He closed his own eyes to the sound, holding a wince at the the inevitable sound of Jack's office door being thrown open.
“What the hell was that?!?” Jack spoke as loud as he dared - which, given the headache he claimed to have - was pretty loud.
“Sorry,” Martha responded from where she had been working. “Something...exploded - for lack of a better word. Scared me a little.”
Jack groaned and sat heavily on the steps, head in hands. “Gwen Cooper, if ever you have loved me - shoot me.”
“I can't,” Gwen never even looked up from what she was doing.
Jack whined and stomped his feet like a petulant child. “Guh-when! If you wanted me to shoot you, I would...”
“No you wouldn't.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard.
Jack winced with every keystroke. “But I would.”
She stopped typing and turned her chair to face Jack. “Jack. Why would I ever ask you to shoot me?”
“Technicality.” The throbbing did not stop, no matter if his eyes were opened or closed, he noticed, so he left them open.
“Stop pestering Gwen, Jack,” Ianto admonished, handing her a steaming mug. “I told you - no one is going to shoot you. Quit asking.”
“Martha?” Jack ignored him.
She appeared at the top of the stairs, pulling of the now-soiled apron. “Yes, Jack, my darling?”
“Do you love me?” He turned his reddened eyes to her.
“Not enough to shoot you.” She smiled as she accepted her own beverage from Ianto's tray.
“That is not love,” Jack muttered, reaching for his own mug. Ianto held it just out of reach.
“Not so fast, sir.”
“I'll have you know that I have no qualms about shooting you,” Jack replied, hardening his face. “Hand over the coffee.”
“Not until you give me your gun.” Ianto held the tray out for Jack to place it on.
Closing his eyes, Jack took a deep breath and reached in his holster. “Why do you hate me, Ianto Jones?”
“If, by 'hate', you mean 'worship the ground you walk on', then, yes, Jack, Ianto hates you,” Gwen informed him. “Just give him the gun.”
“Still would shoot any of you if you asked me,” he mumbled, placing the Webley on the tray.
There was a snort of a laugh from Gwen's direction. Ianto looked quickly at her and she pursed her lips in apology. “So, Jack, that's a nice watch, I meant to tell you last night,” she recovered.
Jack looked down at his wrist. He had forgotten he was still wearing the watch Ianto had pressed him to wear. “Thanks. It's Ianto's. Does look good though.” He shrugged, then remembered why he had banned that action from himself earlier in the day. “Do I get coffee now, Ianto?”
“Yes, Jack, you get coffee now.” Ianto handed him the mug and turned to set the tray down and hide the gun from Jack.
“Oh, Yan?” Jack called, inhaling the aroma of the brew. Ianto paused and looked over his shoulder. “I was wrong, you don't hate me at all - you love me.”
“Yes, Jack, I love you.”
“Can I have my gun back?”
“Jack?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up and drink your coffee - your next might be decaf.”
This way to Chapter Three!