galadriel1010 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
galadriel1010) wrote2010-09-15 10:41 am
galadriel1010) wrote2010-09-15 10:41 am
Entry tags:
Schmoop_Bingo fills 1-5
Prompt: Matchmaker
Wordcount: 950
Summary: Tosh decides that with just a little romantic manipulation, everyone in the Hub could be happier.
Jack and Gwen were having another shouting match, about the usual subject – Jack knew that the Griftok they'd 'neutralised' last night was too dangerous to be left loose or even for the team to get any closer to it than they needed to to shoot it, whereas Gwen knew that it was injured and hadn't meant to hurt anyone, and if they'd only tried to communicate with it they could have brought it in without any further loss of life. Now they were inches apart, still shouting as if they were on opposite sides of the room, and Tosh knew that she was going to get a headache.
Ianto put a mug down next to her hand and she smiled up at him tightly, giving him a nod of thanks. He was still creeping around the Hub, avoiding their gazes, but it was so clear that he wanted and needed to be noticed. With a glance at Jack and Gwen, now debating the ethics of keeping Janet in the cell (loudly), he returned her nod and turned away. Tosh paused, looked at them, and called out, “Ianto?”
He stopped and half turned, looking over his shoulder at her. “Yes, Tosh?”
“Would you mind if I came down to the archives to try out this scanner?” She waved it at him. “I think I've got it working again.”
His gaze flicked to the stack of files on her desk, then followed hers to the oblivious debating competition. “Of course not, Tosh. It's the Archives, you're allowed down there whenever you like.”
She got up and followed him down, letting him lead the way through the catacombs to one of the archiving offices, where he stopped in the doorway. “You can use this office, if you like,” he rested one hand on his hip and the other twitched, as if he were restraining himself from running it through his hair. “Or if you just want to get away from them, you could...” he shook his head. “Sorry, I'd better get back to work.”
“Ianto, what were you going to suggest?” Tosh stopped him with a hand on his arm, which she dropped quickly.
He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then put both hands on his hips. “Well, I wondered, if you wanted to be out of their way... my office has room to sit, but not to work...”
She smiled and rested her hand on his arm again, flexing her fingers gently against the fine wool. “I wouldn't mind the company.”
His smile was brief, but brilliant, and he nodded, more relaxed than she'd seen him in a long time. He led her a bit further on, to a larger office which was filled with boxes of paper with a desk and three chairs in the middle of it. Ianto had to clear boxes off one of the chairs so that she could sit down, though. “I'm sorry it's a mess,” he told her, sounding like he was regretting the invitation, “It's normally just me down here.”
She put the scanner down on top of a stack of boxes and looked around. “What are you doing down here?”
“Checking that all the files are on the system,” he sat down in the wooden chair behind the desk and folded his hands in front of him. “I'm having to cross reference all the file references to make sure that they all got put in in the 1990s, before the Archives got abandoned, and then check the ones that don't come up haven't been put in incorrectly, like someone put a 2 instead of a Z...” he trailed off and shuffled the papers in front of him. “It... it doesn't matter, really.”
“Future archivists will love you,” Tosh pointed out gently. “They'll worship you as a God. Now...” she cut him off. “I can either distract you, or help you with it. Which would you prefer?”
He smiled back at her. “We should probably do some work. Don't want Jack to get jealous, do we?”
Was that a joke? Tosh wondered, nodding cheerfully and pulling the 'to do' stack towards herself so that she could read out the file numbers for Ianto. Just since they'd been down here, he seemed to have brightened up. In fact, she'd seen him smile more since they came down here than she had in a fortnight. Was all it took a bit of companionship? Was he really that starved of it?
She watched him from behind her fringe as they sorted the pile into 'filed' and 'to do part 2'. The work didn't take much effort on either of their parts, so it gave her plenty of opportunity to consider the problem that was Ianto Jones and, in part, Jack Harkness. Ianto was wilting away in the darkness, starved of human contact and recognition. Jack was on a collision course with Gwen which would end in either them shagging or him firing her, neither of which he would forgive himself for. Maybe if his efforts were diverted, everyone would benefit?
Ianto coughed and she looked up at him, blinking through her fringe. He looked amused. “Is that report really that riveting, Tosh?”
She pushed it away and got the next one, not noticing the extremely familiar signature at the bottom. “Sorry, yes, it was. Weevils never change.”
He nodded and put the next code she read out for him into the computer, and she returned to plotting, determined not to get so distracted that the subject of her contemplation noticed this time.
Prompt: Posing as a Couple
Wordcount: 1014
Summary: Jack and Ianto are forced to go undercover
Jack pulled the SUV up to the curb and looked up at the brightly lit bar front. “Are you sure this is the place, Tosh?”
“Yes, Jack. It's one hundred metres to your left, now.”
Ianto pulled a face. “Oh God, it's in a gay bar.”
Jack looked at him sharply, pulling away from the curb to find the car park. “What's that supposed to mean?”
Ianto eyed him warily. “I always get groped inappropriately in gay clubs.”
Letting out a bark of laughter, Jack relaxed slightly. “Well that's to be expected. I have told you you have a fabulous arse, haven't I?”
“I... yes, sir,” Ianto choked and eyed him balefully. “But I object to being groped by strangers.”
“Am I allowed to grope you, then?” he pulled into a parking space and smirked at Ianto in the darkness.
Ianto was silent for a while, chewing his lower lip. “I'd rather you did, sir.”
Jack had to think about that one before he got it. “Wait, you're asking me to grope you... not to not grope you?”
“Yes, sir.”
He bought himself time by unfastening his safety belt and getting out of the SUV, whilst Ianto did the same on the other side. Finally, he confessed. “I don't understand.”
The orange streetlight above them cast Ianto's features into strange relief as he tipped his head back and sighed. “Sir, I'd rather go into that bar and have people think that I'm off limits... Unless you'd rather go in there with people thinking you're available,” he added quickly.
Jack shook his head and came around the car to stand in front of Ianto. “Maybe we could both do without the distraction,” he conceded, resting his hands on Ianto's shoulders. “But you're going to have to look more relaxed than that.”
“Sir?”
“And stop calling me 'sir',” he added firmly, tugging at Ianto's suit jacket. “Now. We're going to go in there, looking like two blokes out for a night out together. We'll get some drinks, enjoy each other's company, get what we're after, and leave. Okay?”
Ianto's tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he drew in a sharp breath when Jack's hand brushed under his jacket to remove it. “And we look rather too dressed up for that?” he guessed.
“Exactly,” Jack managed to get him out of the jacket and gave him a critical glance. “Okay, ditch the tie and undo your top buttons, roll your sleeves up a bit, and you'll do.”
Whilst Ianto did as he was told, somewhat bewildered, Jack hung his jacket over the back of the passenger seat and removed his own coat and slung it over onto the driver's seat, then unclipped his braces and threw them onto the back seat, followed by his shirt. When he was down to his tight white shirt, he peered at his reflection in the wing mirror to comb his hair into something a bit more casual, then ran his hands through Ianto's hair and took his tie off him. “That's for later.”
Ianto nodded and swallowed, and reached into his jacket pocket for his wallet. “Right... can I buy you a drink, Jack?”
“Only if I get to buy you one,” Jack smiled back.
They were leaning against the bar a while later, both with weak mixers in their hands, trying to find something to say. Not that they could hear themselves over the music, a song which neither of them recognised or liked. Past Ianto's shoulder Jack saw a couple of guys looking at them, and moved closer to Ianto, resting his free hand on his hip and rubbing the bone with his thumb. “Don't worry, just someone looking at us.”
Ianto blinked and leaned towards him casually, brushing his lips against Jack's cheek and taking him by surprise. That close, he could whisper, “Do you think they recognise us?”
Jack shook his head, just enough to reciprocate the gesture. “I think they fancy us.”
When Ianto tensed, Jack slid his arm around his waist fully and rested their cheeks together. “Oh Ianto Jones, you don't see it, do you? Most of the guys here would take you home if you let them, and the others are just here with their gay mates.”
Ianto's breath puffed unsteadily over Jack's neck, meaning that he'd dropped his head, trying to hide. Just when Jack was going to pull back and make him look at him, he spoke. “Would you take me home? Or are you not most men?”
Slowly, Jack pulled back so that he could see Ianto's face and read the nervousness in his tight smile. Wanting to wipe it away, he leaned in and pressed his lips against Ianto's, just for a second. “For you, Ianto, I'll be anyone.”
“I wouldn't let just anyone take me home,” Ianto's smile had grown a little less nervous, a little more daring. “It would have to be someone special.”
“How special?” he grunted as his comm. unit beeped in his ear and Ianto turned away, back to his drink. “Yes, Tosh?”
“The signal's gone, did you see anything?”
He looked around and cursed softly. “No, Tosh, we didn't see anything. Are you sure it's gone?”
She sighed. “Definitely gone. I'll set about finding it...”
“Don't, Tosh,” Jack planted his hand firmly on Ianto's arse and smiled at him. “It's late, go home. I'm going to take Ianto home. We'll see you tomorrow.”
Ianto raised an eyebrow at him. “You're taking me home, are you?”
“Yes I am,” he pulled Ianto into his arms and kissed him again. “As long as you think I'm up to the challenge?”
Laughing, Ianto tangled his hands in Jack's hair, moaning softly just at the feeling of being held. “You could never be just anyone even if you tried, could you?”
Prompt: Unexpected date (Wildcard)
Wordcount: 1705
Summary: Jack returns from his trip with the Doctor and starts making amends as soon as he can.
Ianto hauled himself off the bed to open the door and found himself face to face with his least favourite person in the world, after Katie Price. He bit back a sigh, held the door at a polite but unwelcoming angle and tried to look interested. “Sir, can I help you?”
Jack wasn't trying to hide anything like Ianto was; maybe he thought it'd make him more forgiveable if he looked hurt; maybe he'd just got tired of hiding, or maybe he'd not been gone as long as he had, and he still didn't feel he needed to hide himself around Ianto. As much as he really, really hated Jack right then, he knew that he'd been the only one Jack could be like that with, and he did look like he needed it – his hands were in his trouser pockets, hair dishevelled, eyes tight with pain and slightly red. He took a deep breath and met Ianto's eyes. “What date is it?”
“June twenty third,” he supplied. “Two thousand and seven, so you've only been gone nearly three months, not... however long you think you've been gone...” he contemplated Jack's shocked expression and inability to think. “You were expecting half an hour, weren't you?”
“I... no, not half an hour,” Jack studied his face and sighed. “Not three months, though. For what it's worth, I'm sorry.”
He turned away, and Ianto had to say something, anything, to lessen some of that pain. “What do you think it's worth?”
Jack looked back at him and tried to raise one of his eyebrows in an interested manner, but it still came across as nervous and melancholy. “I think it's one of those gifts the value of which is decided by the receiver, not the giver.” His expression said that he had a feeling that it wasn't worth a lot by that definition.
And maybe Ianto was a glutton for punishment, or just too soft by half, but he couldn't leave him thinking that. “That sort of gift changes in value depending on the receiver's mood at the time.”
“It does.”
“So maybe you should buy me dinner and cheer me up?” he suggested, strangely gratified by the hopeful look in Jack's eyes. “We missed out on a few dinner nights whilst you were gone.”
Jack nodded sadly, and Ianto decided that it was longer ago for Jack than it was for him, rather than more recent. Still, the bright, brittle smile returned, and Jack held out his hand. “We'll have to play catch-up. I want to make it up to you.”
Ianto hesitated only a moment before he took the offered hand, and let Jack curl his fingers around it, just holding for a moment. He was staring at their joined hands, looking for something Ianto couldn't see, and took a while to look up. “Except that the restaurant's closed...” he sighed and squeezed Ianto's hand. “I should have let you sleep and offered you breakfast instead.”
“It might not have worked,” Ianto pointed out, “Better to strike whilst the iron's hot. They're still doing room service.”
“Yeah, but room service requires being in one of our rooms,” Jack hesitated. “I didn't think you'd... Well, connotations and all that.”
Ianto nodded his understanding. “We can eat in your room, then you can walk me back to mine after.”
To his credit, even Jack's eyebrows didn't respond to that; he just laced his fingers through Ianto's and tugged gently. “Got your key?”
“Oh... no, I'd...”
“Go and get it,” Jack released his hand and stepped back. “We don't want you getting locked out and having to stay in my room instead, do we?”
Ianto busied himself trying to find his key rather than analyse Jack's wistful tone and nodded his agreement. “I think it's a bit early for that, yet.”
When he looked around, Jack was leaning in the doorway, feet carefully outside the room and eyes fixed on a point on the floor. He seemed to notice Ianto's attention, because he looked up slowly and smiled. “Got it?”
“Yeah, I've got it,” he slid it into his pocket and came to join Jack in the doorway. “Is it far?”
Jack shook his head. “I'm just down at the end of the corridor. They didn't have many rooms close together, but I...” he swallowed hard and Ianto fell into step with him. “I didn't want to be too far away. From you, I mean... I...”
“Jack, stop,” Jack stopped completely and Ianto turned on him with a sigh. “I want to go on a date with you, yes. I want to have dinner with you tonight, as well. I'm not going to change my mind; you don't have to keep trying to persuade me.”
“I'm not trying to persuade you,” Jack insisted, starting walking again. “I just wanted you to know that I meant it, I came back for you.”
“I know. I know,” he repeated more quietly, realising that his first exclamation had been too loud for a hotel corridor at going on for midnight, and for Jack's strange nervousness. “It's just going to take me a while to believe that.”
“Okay,” Jack smiled brittlely and dipped his head. “I've got the time to wait.”
Ianto was taken aback by the bitterness. “You... oh, he couldn't...”
“No, nothing he could do,” Jack shook his head quickly and gestured to the next door. “This is me. Could we leave this outside the door? You can fill me in on the world of celebrity dating since I went, or something.”
He laughed in spite of himself. “Now that I really don't know, but... yeah, we can change the subject.”
Jack's room was just like Ianto's, with half of the room given over to a double bed and a desk and the other half taken up by a dining table with comfortable armchairs rather than dining chairs. His coat was hanging up in the open wardrobe, and the door to the bathroom was ajar, but apart from that the room gave the appearance of being unoccupied.
All of them apart from Jack had been able to change on arriving at the hotel, because they kept a change of clothes in the SUV for emergencies. Jack never had, despite going through more shirts than the rest of them put together (if Ianto hadn't figured out from the Archives that Jack was immortal, the terrifying amounts of blood and the destruction of his shirts would have tipped him off. Still, it had come as a shock to see him killed...) he shut that train of thought down and watched Jack cross the room to pick up the room service menu, his actions missing a lot of the easy grace that Ianto had found so captivating. He accepted the menu from Jack and sat on the edge of the bed, patting the covers next to him. “We can both look at once.”
Jack sat on the edge of the bed, not quite touching Ianto, and peered over his shoulder at the extravagant descriptions. Trying to keep his mind on food, and not on the absurdly comforting feel of Jack so close to him, Ianto ran his finger down the menu and translated the descriptions. “Fruit salad, melon, potato and ham soup, potato and leek soup, bread and pate...”
“Why don't they do sensible food?” Jack asked as his stomach rumbled. “It's midnight, we want room service, can't we just get stir-fry chicken and vegetables, or is that just too complicated for them?”
“Um... they have sweet and sour chicken, I think,” Ianto pointed it out and Jack leaned in to study it, brushing his shoulder against Ianto's. “Unfortunately,” he added to distract Jack as he moved closer to lean into Jack as well, “I'm not as fluent in garbage as I used to be.”
Jack laughed and went to pick the phone up, leaving Ianto feeling cold again. “What are you having?”
“Oh, erm, chicken makhani, thanks,” he shifted on the bed and put the menu down in his lap whilst Jack made the order. When he hung up, he turned back to Ianto and leaned on the desk, smiling at him fondly. Ianto shifted. “What?”
“No, I just...” he smiled again, mostly to himself and then looked at Ianto seriously. “I thought I'd never see you again.”
“You...”
“I didn't want that,” Jack shook his head and came to sit on the bed again. “So, anyway... celebrity dating.”
xxxxx
They stood outside Ianto's room, both feeling warm from the wine and companionship they'd shared. On impulse, Ianto leaned in and pressed his lips against Jack's, just for a second. “I could invite you in for coffee,” he suggested, as off hand as he could manage.
Jack shook his head, though, and didn't try to repeat the kiss. “I don't think that would be a good idea. You need to think about it, make sure this is what you want...”
“It is.”
“And sleep,” Jack added firmly. “You're exhausted. I'll see you for breakfast?”
Ianto nodded and stepped back, fumbling in his pocket for his key. Jack was right, he was beyond tired, and bed seemed like a wonderful idea (although a bed with Jack in it as well would have sounded even better). “It's your job to make sure that I don't sleep through breakfast, okay?”
Jack laughed and turned away. “I'll see you in the morning, Ianto.”
He smiled to himself and got the door open, then turned around. “Oh, Jack?” Jack looked over his shoulder and stopped halfway down the corridor. “Just because it's impossible to beat two and a half months late, doesn't mean you have to try for future dates.”
Jack laughed and Ianto slipped into his room, collapsing forwards onto the bed to think about the next step.
Prompt: Minor Injury
Wordcount: 645
Summary: An injury gets in the way of Jack and Ianto's scheduled date
Ianto felt like shit. It was to be expected, Owen had assured him unnecessarily; colliding with the wall had given him a bruise the size of the moon, which he was currently applying ice to, nausea, dizzy vision and short term memory loss, and Owen had congratulated him on getting almost all of the symptoms of concussion in one go. Oh, and a headache that could have wiped out the population of Wales.
The light switched on and he screwed his eyes tight shut, pulling the duvet over his head and whimpering softly. He was too tired and grumpy to fight the duvet being tugged down, though, and turned his face into the sofa as gentle fingers combed through his hair. “Ianto, come on out of there,” Jack urged him in a whisper. “I need to take the ice away.”
“Can't move,” he whined, turning his head even further to let Jack comb through his hair better, brushing his nose against the wet towel that held the bag of ice. “Head hurts.”
“I know it does, but you're going to freeze to the sofa if we don't move that ice,” Jack teased, sliding his hand down to cup Ianto's cheek in gentle fingers and lift his head off the ice. “And the sofa will get wet.”
Ianto nuzzled his cheek into Jack's hand, a stark contrast against the cold of the ice, and moaned again. His head hurt so much, he felt like he was going to die, and he told Jack so.
“You're not going to die,” Jack told him, without any of the worry that Ianto thought was appropriate when one's... whatever they were to each other, and weren't they supposed to be on a date tonight? Well, Jack wasn't sufficiently worried that Ianto might die instead of getting their date. He used his hand under Ianto's cheek, and his other lifting his shoulders, to help him sit up just enough to sit down in the wet patch and lay Ianto back down with his head in Jack's lap and Jack's fingers running through his hair gently. “There, isn't that better?”
“Better,” Ianto agreed thickly, turning his head so that his face pressed into Jack's stomach and his bruise was free from any constriction or pressure.
Jack's fingers brushed over it gently, but still enough to hurt, and he hissed. “Sorry, sorry,” Jack apologised, going back to stroking his hair. “My poor baby, you really don't cope well with concussion, do you?”
Ianto tried to growl, but it came out as more of a groan. “Shut up and let me die,” he whined.
“You are not going to die, Ianto Jones,” Jack insisted firmly, and too loudly for Ianto's liking. He lowered his voice and resumed stroking. “You're not allowed to die until we've had our date.”
“I'm sorry, Jack,” he whispered, nuzzling his stomach as it was all he could reach.
“Not your fault,” Jack soothed him and started rubbing at his shoulders. “You did well today.”
“I got thrown into a brick wall, apparently,” he shook his head disbelievingly.
“You did, and you scared me. I'm rather attached to you, Ianto Jones,” his voice was as gentle as his hands on Ianto's head and shoulders, unwinding the tension and soreness. “But you were good out there. Ah, I'm getting too old for this.”
Ianto pulled back a little to look up at Jack. “Not old.”
“I am, I'm very old,” he resumed his gentle rubbing and sighed. “You lot, you're going to drive me into an early grave.”
Ianto snorted and laid his head back in Jack's lap, regretting his amusement. He let himself drift off, with Jack's hands soothing his hurts and Jack's warmth keeping him safe.
Prompt: Greetings Card
Wordcount: 855
Summary: After his injury, Ianto finds the most romantic Get Well Soon card he's ever had.
Ianto woke slowly and reluctantly, pleased to discover that he was at least in his own bed. The warm light of late morning washed across the room through a gap in the curtains, and he settled back into the mountain of pillows around his head. He wasn't quite sure where Jack had found them all, but he was grateful for the support they gave. Memories drifted through gently, memories of Jack's warm hands running a hot bath, cleaning him, redressing him in warm pyjamas and then tucking him into bed, almost clumsy in their careful tenderness, as if Ianto were suddenly breakable and Jack didn't really know what to do with him. Maybe he didn't; concussion wasn't exactly something that could be made better with a kiss, a chat, a hug, a blowjob – not that they'd actually returned to that stage yet – a good night's sleep... He'd needed Jack completely, unable to do even the simplest things himself without the danger of passing out. And if he had and Jack hadn't been there...
He eased himself upright and shuffled over to the bedside table where Jack had left two tablets and a glass of apple and blackcurrant squash. He took the pills and drank the rest gratefully, rearranging the pillows against the headboard and leaning back against them to wait for the painkillers to kick in.
The flat was completely quiet, he realised. The low hum of the fridge was the only accompaniment to his musings apart from the occasional roar from a particularly loud engine on the road outside, usually a motorbike or souped up hatch tearing too fast down the street. Even though he'd known that Jack couldn't stay all night, it made him wistful and sad. Just having someone there, a warm body and nothing more, was enough to take the edge off the worst nights – having someone there who cared about you, who warmed you right through, was something far more precious.
Before he could descend to a maudlin level of affection, Ianto hauled himself out of bed and headed for the kitchen, shedding his pyjama top on the way because it made him feel about six. He dumped it on the bathroom floor when he stopped in there to take a piss and brush his teeth, then left it and continued down the corridor. In the doorway, he stopped and smiled at the table. It had been set for one person, with a glass and two different cartons of juice set out next to a plate with a big slice of fruitcake on it, cake fork resting at an artistic angle across the plate.
He smiled as he sat down at the table and dug his fork into the cake. The cake was dry, but the fruit was moist, and the cake was still slightly warm, as if...
Ianto got up again and opened the carton of apple juice whilst he crossed the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards. In one of those see-through cake containers, which was fogging up with condensation, was three quarters of a fruit cake. He shook his head, still smiling, and returned to the table to pour himself a glass of juice and finish the slice of freshly baked cake.
When he got up to take the plate and glass to the sink, he found an envelope hidden underneath it. It was baby blue, and Ianto recognised it as being one of the set that he kept in a box in the living room, just in case he forgot and needed one at short notice. He put the plate and glass back down and opened it to look at the picture first – kittens and flowers – and then to read the message inside.
“Ianto,
This isn't a date either, and I am still determined to collect. If stuff keeps getting in the way, I may have to take you home and ravish you, and do the date afterwards.
Tuesday, work permitting? (That's next Tuesday, not today.)
Hope you like the cake. I'm taking a slice to work with me, chef's prerogative.
Don't come in today, we'll handle it. Just rest your poorly head and think fondly on us poor wretches, slaving away in the darkness.
Love Jack.”
It finished with a ridiculous number of kisses filling up the bottom of the page, which gave the impression that Jack had just run out of things to say and hadn't wanted to leave the space. Ianto closed it and slid it back into the envelope, then hurried back to his bedroom to put it in the box in the bottom of the wardrobe with his other fond memories. He knew that Jack would get this box one day, and would look through it (because he cared, and he was nosey), and he'd find himself in there alongside Lisa, and Torchwood, and university, and school, and Rhiannon and their parents. Jack was overtaking even Lisa, now, and if he kept on the way he was going, he'd need a box to himself. He hoped that Jack appreciated that, because Ianto definitely did.
Next sections here
Wordcount: 950
Summary: Tosh decides that with just a little romantic manipulation, everyone in the Hub could be happier.
Jack and Gwen were having another shouting match, about the usual subject – Jack knew that the Griftok they'd 'neutralised' last night was too dangerous to be left loose or even for the team to get any closer to it than they needed to to shoot it, whereas Gwen knew that it was injured and hadn't meant to hurt anyone, and if they'd only tried to communicate with it they could have brought it in without any further loss of life. Now they were inches apart, still shouting as if they were on opposite sides of the room, and Tosh knew that she was going to get a headache.
Ianto put a mug down next to her hand and she smiled up at him tightly, giving him a nod of thanks. He was still creeping around the Hub, avoiding their gazes, but it was so clear that he wanted and needed to be noticed. With a glance at Jack and Gwen, now debating the ethics of keeping Janet in the cell (loudly), he returned her nod and turned away. Tosh paused, looked at them, and called out, “Ianto?”
He stopped and half turned, looking over his shoulder at her. “Yes, Tosh?”
“Would you mind if I came down to the archives to try out this scanner?” She waved it at him. “I think I've got it working again.”
His gaze flicked to the stack of files on her desk, then followed hers to the oblivious debating competition. “Of course not, Tosh. It's the Archives, you're allowed down there whenever you like.”
She got up and followed him down, letting him lead the way through the catacombs to one of the archiving offices, where he stopped in the doorway. “You can use this office, if you like,” he rested one hand on his hip and the other twitched, as if he were restraining himself from running it through his hair. “Or if you just want to get away from them, you could...” he shook his head. “Sorry, I'd better get back to work.”
“Ianto, what were you going to suggest?” Tosh stopped him with a hand on his arm, which she dropped quickly.
He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then put both hands on his hips. “Well, I wondered, if you wanted to be out of their way... my office has room to sit, but not to work...”
She smiled and rested her hand on his arm again, flexing her fingers gently against the fine wool. “I wouldn't mind the company.”
His smile was brief, but brilliant, and he nodded, more relaxed than she'd seen him in a long time. He led her a bit further on, to a larger office which was filled with boxes of paper with a desk and three chairs in the middle of it. Ianto had to clear boxes off one of the chairs so that she could sit down, though. “I'm sorry it's a mess,” he told her, sounding like he was regretting the invitation, “It's normally just me down here.”
She put the scanner down on top of a stack of boxes and looked around. “What are you doing down here?”
“Checking that all the files are on the system,” he sat down in the wooden chair behind the desk and folded his hands in front of him. “I'm having to cross reference all the file references to make sure that they all got put in in the 1990s, before the Archives got abandoned, and then check the ones that don't come up haven't been put in incorrectly, like someone put a 2 instead of a Z...” he trailed off and shuffled the papers in front of him. “It... it doesn't matter, really.”
“Future archivists will love you,” Tosh pointed out gently. “They'll worship you as a God. Now...” she cut him off. “I can either distract you, or help you with it. Which would you prefer?”
He smiled back at her. “We should probably do some work. Don't want Jack to get jealous, do we?”
Was that a joke? Tosh wondered, nodding cheerfully and pulling the 'to do' stack towards herself so that she could read out the file numbers for Ianto. Just since they'd been down here, he seemed to have brightened up. In fact, she'd seen him smile more since they came down here than she had in a fortnight. Was all it took a bit of companionship? Was he really that starved of it?
She watched him from behind her fringe as they sorted the pile into 'filed' and 'to do part 2'. The work didn't take much effort on either of their parts, so it gave her plenty of opportunity to consider the problem that was Ianto Jones and, in part, Jack Harkness. Ianto was wilting away in the darkness, starved of human contact and recognition. Jack was on a collision course with Gwen which would end in either them shagging or him firing her, neither of which he would forgive himself for. Maybe if his efforts were diverted, everyone would benefit?
Ianto coughed and she looked up at him, blinking through her fringe. He looked amused. “Is that report really that riveting, Tosh?”
She pushed it away and got the next one, not noticing the extremely familiar signature at the bottom. “Sorry, yes, it was. Weevils never change.”
He nodded and put the next code she read out for him into the computer, and she returned to plotting, determined not to get so distracted that the subject of her contemplation noticed this time.
Prompt: Posing as a Couple
Wordcount: 1014
Summary: Jack and Ianto are forced to go undercover
Jack pulled the SUV up to the curb and looked up at the brightly lit bar front. “Are you sure this is the place, Tosh?”
“Yes, Jack. It's one hundred metres to your left, now.”
Ianto pulled a face. “Oh God, it's in a gay bar.”
Jack looked at him sharply, pulling away from the curb to find the car park. “What's that supposed to mean?”
Ianto eyed him warily. “I always get groped inappropriately in gay clubs.”
Letting out a bark of laughter, Jack relaxed slightly. “Well that's to be expected. I have told you you have a fabulous arse, haven't I?”
“I... yes, sir,” Ianto choked and eyed him balefully. “But I object to being groped by strangers.”
“Am I allowed to grope you, then?” he pulled into a parking space and smirked at Ianto in the darkness.
Ianto was silent for a while, chewing his lower lip. “I'd rather you did, sir.”
Jack had to think about that one before he got it. “Wait, you're asking me to grope you... not to not grope you?”
“Yes, sir.”
He bought himself time by unfastening his safety belt and getting out of the SUV, whilst Ianto did the same on the other side. Finally, he confessed. “I don't understand.”
The orange streetlight above them cast Ianto's features into strange relief as he tipped his head back and sighed. “Sir, I'd rather go into that bar and have people think that I'm off limits... Unless you'd rather go in there with people thinking you're available,” he added quickly.
Jack shook his head and came around the car to stand in front of Ianto. “Maybe we could both do without the distraction,” he conceded, resting his hands on Ianto's shoulders. “But you're going to have to look more relaxed than that.”
“Sir?”
“And stop calling me 'sir',” he added firmly, tugging at Ianto's suit jacket. “Now. We're going to go in there, looking like two blokes out for a night out together. We'll get some drinks, enjoy each other's company, get what we're after, and leave. Okay?”
Ianto's tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he drew in a sharp breath when Jack's hand brushed under his jacket to remove it. “And we look rather too dressed up for that?” he guessed.
“Exactly,” Jack managed to get him out of the jacket and gave him a critical glance. “Okay, ditch the tie and undo your top buttons, roll your sleeves up a bit, and you'll do.”
Whilst Ianto did as he was told, somewhat bewildered, Jack hung his jacket over the back of the passenger seat and removed his own coat and slung it over onto the driver's seat, then unclipped his braces and threw them onto the back seat, followed by his shirt. When he was down to his tight white shirt, he peered at his reflection in the wing mirror to comb his hair into something a bit more casual, then ran his hands through Ianto's hair and took his tie off him. “That's for later.”
Ianto nodded and swallowed, and reached into his jacket pocket for his wallet. “Right... can I buy you a drink, Jack?”
“Only if I get to buy you one,” Jack smiled back.
They were leaning against the bar a while later, both with weak mixers in their hands, trying to find something to say. Not that they could hear themselves over the music, a song which neither of them recognised or liked. Past Ianto's shoulder Jack saw a couple of guys looking at them, and moved closer to Ianto, resting his free hand on his hip and rubbing the bone with his thumb. “Don't worry, just someone looking at us.”
Ianto blinked and leaned towards him casually, brushing his lips against Jack's cheek and taking him by surprise. That close, he could whisper, “Do you think they recognise us?”
Jack shook his head, just enough to reciprocate the gesture. “I think they fancy us.”
When Ianto tensed, Jack slid his arm around his waist fully and rested their cheeks together. “Oh Ianto Jones, you don't see it, do you? Most of the guys here would take you home if you let them, and the others are just here with their gay mates.”
Ianto's breath puffed unsteadily over Jack's neck, meaning that he'd dropped his head, trying to hide. Just when Jack was going to pull back and make him look at him, he spoke. “Would you take me home? Or are you not most men?”
Slowly, Jack pulled back so that he could see Ianto's face and read the nervousness in his tight smile. Wanting to wipe it away, he leaned in and pressed his lips against Ianto's, just for a second. “For you, Ianto, I'll be anyone.”
“I wouldn't let just anyone take me home,” Ianto's smile had grown a little less nervous, a little more daring. “It would have to be someone special.”
“How special?” he grunted as his comm. unit beeped in his ear and Ianto turned away, back to his drink. “Yes, Tosh?”
“The signal's gone, did you see anything?”
He looked around and cursed softly. “No, Tosh, we didn't see anything. Are you sure it's gone?”
She sighed. “Definitely gone. I'll set about finding it...”
“Don't, Tosh,” Jack planted his hand firmly on Ianto's arse and smiled at him. “It's late, go home. I'm going to take Ianto home. We'll see you tomorrow.”
Ianto raised an eyebrow at him. “You're taking me home, are you?”
“Yes I am,” he pulled Ianto into his arms and kissed him again. “As long as you think I'm up to the challenge?”
Laughing, Ianto tangled his hands in Jack's hair, moaning softly just at the feeling of being held. “You could never be just anyone even if you tried, could you?”
Prompt: Unexpected date (Wildcard)
Wordcount: 1705
Summary: Jack returns from his trip with the Doctor and starts making amends as soon as he can.
Ianto hauled himself off the bed to open the door and found himself face to face with his least favourite person in the world, after Katie Price. He bit back a sigh, held the door at a polite but unwelcoming angle and tried to look interested. “Sir, can I help you?”
Jack wasn't trying to hide anything like Ianto was; maybe he thought it'd make him more forgiveable if he looked hurt; maybe he'd just got tired of hiding, or maybe he'd not been gone as long as he had, and he still didn't feel he needed to hide himself around Ianto. As much as he really, really hated Jack right then, he knew that he'd been the only one Jack could be like that with, and he did look like he needed it – his hands were in his trouser pockets, hair dishevelled, eyes tight with pain and slightly red. He took a deep breath and met Ianto's eyes. “What date is it?”
“June twenty third,” he supplied. “Two thousand and seven, so you've only been gone nearly three months, not... however long you think you've been gone...” he contemplated Jack's shocked expression and inability to think. “You were expecting half an hour, weren't you?”
“I... no, not half an hour,” Jack studied his face and sighed. “Not three months, though. For what it's worth, I'm sorry.”
He turned away, and Ianto had to say something, anything, to lessen some of that pain. “What do you think it's worth?”
Jack looked back at him and tried to raise one of his eyebrows in an interested manner, but it still came across as nervous and melancholy. “I think it's one of those gifts the value of which is decided by the receiver, not the giver.” His expression said that he had a feeling that it wasn't worth a lot by that definition.
And maybe Ianto was a glutton for punishment, or just too soft by half, but he couldn't leave him thinking that. “That sort of gift changes in value depending on the receiver's mood at the time.”
“It does.”
“So maybe you should buy me dinner and cheer me up?” he suggested, strangely gratified by the hopeful look in Jack's eyes. “We missed out on a few dinner nights whilst you were gone.”
Jack nodded sadly, and Ianto decided that it was longer ago for Jack than it was for him, rather than more recent. Still, the bright, brittle smile returned, and Jack held out his hand. “We'll have to play catch-up. I want to make it up to you.”
Ianto hesitated only a moment before he took the offered hand, and let Jack curl his fingers around it, just holding for a moment. He was staring at their joined hands, looking for something Ianto couldn't see, and took a while to look up. “Except that the restaurant's closed...” he sighed and squeezed Ianto's hand. “I should have let you sleep and offered you breakfast instead.”
“It might not have worked,” Ianto pointed out, “Better to strike whilst the iron's hot. They're still doing room service.”
“Yeah, but room service requires being in one of our rooms,” Jack hesitated. “I didn't think you'd... Well, connotations and all that.”
Ianto nodded his understanding. “We can eat in your room, then you can walk me back to mine after.”
To his credit, even Jack's eyebrows didn't respond to that; he just laced his fingers through Ianto's and tugged gently. “Got your key?”
“Oh... no, I'd...”
“Go and get it,” Jack released his hand and stepped back. “We don't want you getting locked out and having to stay in my room instead, do we?”
Ianto busied himself trying to find his key rather than analyse Jack's wistful tone and nodded his agreement. “I think it's a bit early for that, yet.”
When he looked around, Jack was leaning in the doorway, feet carefully outside the room and eyes fixed on a point on the floor. He seemed to notice Ianto's attention, because he looked up slowly and smiled. “Got it?”
“Yeah, I've got it,” he slid it into his pocket and came to join Jack in the doorway. “Is it far?”
Jack shook his head. “I'm just down at the end of the corridor. They didn't have many rooms close together, but I...” he swallowed hard and Ianto fell into step with him. “I didn't want to be too far away. From you, I mean... I...”
“Jack, stop,” Jack stopped completely and Ianto turned on him with a sigh. “I want to go on a date with you, yes. I want to have dinner with you tonight, as well. I'm not going to change my mind; you don't have to keep trying to persuade me.”
“I'm not trying to persuade you,” Jack insisted, starting walking again. “I just wanted you to know that I meant it, I came back for you.”
“I know. I know,” he repeated more quietly, realising that his first exclamation had been too loud for a hotel corridor at going on for midnight, and for Jack's strange nervousness. “It's just going to take me a while to believe that.”
“Okay,” Jack smiled brittlely and dipped his head. “I've got the time to wait.”
Ianto was taken aback by the bitterness. “You... oh, he couldn't...”
“No, nothing he could do,” Jack shook his head quickly and gestured to the next door. “This is me. Could we leave this outside the door? You can fill me in on the world of celebrity dating since I went, or something.”
He laughed in spite of himself. “Now that I really don't know, but... yeah, we can change the subject.”
Jack's room was just like Ianto's, with half of the room given over to a double bed and a desk and the other half taken up by a dining table with comfortable armchairs rather than dining chairs. His coat was hanging up in the open wardrobe, and the door to the bathroom was ajar, but apart from that the room gave the appearance of being unoccupied.
All of them apart from Jack had been able to change on arriving at the hotel, because they kept a change of clothes in the SUV for emergencies. Jack never had, despite going through more shirts than the rest of them put together (if Ianto hadn't figured out from the Archives that Jack was immortal, the terrifying amounts of blood and the destruction of his shirts would have tipped him off. Still, it had come as a shock to see him killed...) he shut that train of thought down and watched Jack cross the room to pick up the room service menu, his actions missing a lot of the easy grace that Ianto had found so captivating. He accepted the menu from Jack and sat on the edge of the bed, patting the covers next to him. “We can both look at once.”
Jack sat on the edge of the bed, not quite touching Ianto, and peered over his shoulder at the extravagant descriptions. Trying to keep his mind on food, and not on the absurdly comforting feel of Jack so close to him, Ianto ran his finger down the menu and translated the descriptions. “Fruit salad, melon, potato and ham soup, potato and leek soup, bread and pate...”
“Why don't they do sensible food?” Jack asked as his stomach rumbled. “It's midnight, we want room service, can't we just get stir-fry chicken and vegetables, or is that just too complicated for them?”
“Um... they have sweet and sour chicken, I think,” Ianto pointed it out and Jack leaned in to study it, brushing his shoulder against Ianto's. “Unfortunately,” he added to distract Jack as he moved closer to lean into Jack as well, “I'm not as fluent in garbage as I used to be.”
Jack laughed and went to pick the phone up, leaving Ianto feeling cold again. “What are you having?”
“Oh, erm, chicken makhani, thanks,” he shifted on the bed and put the menu down in his lap whilst Jack made the order. When he hung up, he turned back to Ianto and leaned on the desk, smiling at him fondly. Ianto shifted. “What?”
“No, I just...” he smiled again, mostly to himself and then looked at Ianto seriously. “I thought I'd never see you again.”
“You...”
“I didn't want that,” Jack shook his head and came to sit on the bed again. “So, anyway... celebrity dating.”
xxxxx
They stood outside Ianto's room, both feeling warm from the wine and companionship they'd shared. On impulse, Ianto leaned in and pressed his lips against Jack's, just for a second. “I could invite you in for coffee,” he suggested, as off hand as he could manage.
Jack shook his head, though, and didn't try to repeat the kiss. “I don't think that would be a good idea. You need to think about it, make sure this is what you want...”
“It is.”
“And sleep,” Jack added firmly. “You're exhausted. I'll see you for breakfast?”
Ianto nodded and stepped back, fumbling in his pocket for his key. Jack was right, he was beyond tired, and bed seemed like a wonderful idea (although a bed with Jack in it as well would have sounded even better). “It's your job to make sure that I don't sleep through breakfast, okay?”
Jack laughed and turned away. “I'll see you in the morning, Ianto.”
He smiled to himself and got the door open, then turned around. “Oh, Jack?” Jack looked over his shoulder and stopped halfway down the corridor. “Just because it's impossible to beat two and a half months late, doesn't mean you have to try for future dates.”
Jack laughed and Ianto slipped into his room, collapsing forwards onto the bed to think about the next step.
Prompt: Minor Injury
Wordcount: 645
Summary: An injury gets in the way of Jack and Ianto's scheduled date
Ianto felt like shit. It was to be expected, Owen had assured him unnecessarily; colliding with the wall had given him a bruise the size of the moon, which he was currently applying ice to, nausea, dizzy vision and short term memory loss, and Owen had congratulated him on getting almost all of the symptoms of concussion in one go. Oh, and a headache that could have wiped out the population of Wales.
The light switched on and he screwed his eyes tight shut, pulling the duvet over his head and whimpering softly. He was too tired and grumpy to fight the duvet being tugged down, though, and turned his face into the sofa as gentle fingers combed through his hair. “Ianto, come on out of there,” Jack urged him in a whisper. “I need to take the ice away.”
“Can't move,” he whined, turning his head even further to let Jack comb through his hair better, brushing his nose against the wet towel that held the bag of ice. “Head hurts.”
“I know it does, but you're going to freeze to the sofa if we don't move that ice,” Jack teased, sliding his hand down to cup Ianto's cheek in gentle fingers and lift his head off the ice. “And the sofa will get wet.”
Ianto nuzzled his cheek into Jack's hand, a stark contrast against the cold of the ice, and moaned again. His head hurt so much, he felt like he was going to die, and he told Jack so.
“You're not going to die,” Jack told him, without any of the worry that Ianto thought was appropriate when one's... whatever they were to each other, and weren't they supposed to be on a date tonight? Well, Jack wasn't sufficiently worried that Ianto might die instead of getting their date. He used his hand under Ianto's cheek, and his other lifting his shoulders, to help him sit up just enough to sit down in the wet patch and lay Ianto back down with his head in Jack's lap and Jack's fingers running through his hair gently. “There, isn't that better?”
“Better,” Ianto agreed thickly, turning his head so that his face pressed into Jack's stomach and his bruise was free from any constriction or pressure.
Jack's fingers brushed over it gently, but still enough to hurt, and he hissed. “Sorry, sorry,” Jack apologised, going back to stroking his hair. “My poor baby, you really don't cope well with concussion, do you?”
Ianto tried to growl, but it came out as more of a groan. “Shut up and let me die,” he whined.
“You are not going to die, Ianto Jones,” Jack insisted firmly, and too loudly for Ianto's liking. He lowered his voice and resumed stroking. “You're not allowed to die until we've had our date.”
“I'm sorry, Jack,” he whispered, nuzzling his stomach as it was all he could reach.
“Not your fault,” Jack soothed him and started rubbing at his shoulders. “You did well today.”
“I got thrown into a brick wall, apparently,” he shook his head disbelievingly.
“You did, and you scared me. I'm rather attached to you, Ianto Jones,” his voice was as gentle as his hands on Ianto's head and shoulders, unwinding the tension and soreness. “But you were good out there. Ah, I'm getting too old for this.”
Ianto pulled back a little to look up at Jack. “Not old.”
“I am, I'm very old,” he resumed his gentle rubbing and sighed. “You lot, you're going to drive me into an early grave.”
Ianto snorted and laid his head back in Jack's lap, regretting his amusement. He let himself drift off, with Jack's hands soothing his hurts and Jack's warmth keeping him safe.
Prompt: Greetings Card
Wordcount: 855
Summary: After his injury, Ianto finds the most romantic Get Well Soon card he's ever had.
Ianto woke slowly and reluctantly, pleased to discover that he was at least in his own bed. The warm light of late morning washed across the room through a gap in the curtains, and he settled back into the mountain of pillows around his head. He wasn't quite sure where Jack had found them all, but he was grateful for the support they gave. Memories drifted through gently, memories of Jack's warm hands running a hot bath, cleaning him, redressing him in warm pyjamas and then tucking him into bed, almost clumsy in their careful tenderness, as if Ianto were suddenly breakable and Jack didn't really know what to do with him. Maybe he didn't; concussion wasn't exactly something that could be made better with a kiss, a chat, a hug, a blowjob – not that they'd actually returned to that stage yet – a good night's sleep... He'd needed Jack completely, unable to do even the simplest things himself without the danger of passing out. And if he had and Jack hadn't been there...
He eased himself upright and shuffled over to the bedside table where Jack had left two tablets and a glass of apple and blackcurrant squash. He took the pills and drank the rest gratefully, rearranging the pillows against the headboard and leaning back against them to wait for the painkillers to kick in.
The flat was completely quiet, he realised. The low hum of the fridge was the only accompaniment to his musings apart from the occasional roar from a particularly loud engine on the road outside, usually a motorbike or souped up hatch tearing too fast down the street. Even though he'd known that Jack couldn't stay all night, it made him wistful and sad. Just having someone there, a warm body and nothing more, was enough to take the edge off the worst nights – having someone there who cared about you, who warmed you right through, was something far more precious.
Before he could descend to a maudlin level of affection, Ianto hauled himself out of bed and headed for the kitchen, shedding his pyjama top on the way because it made him feel about six. He dumped it on the bathroom floor when he stopped in there to take a piss and brush his teeth, then left it and continued down the corridor. In the doorway, he stopped and smiled at the table. It had been set for one person, with a glass and two different cartons of juice set out next to a plate with a big slice of fruitcake on it, cake fork resting at an artistic angle across the plate.
He smiled as he sat down at the table and dug his fork into the cake. The cake was dry, but the fruit was moist, and the cake was still slightly warm, as if...
Ianto got up again and opened the carton of apple juice whilst he crossed the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards. In one of those see-through cake containers, which was fogging up with condensation, was three quarters of a fruit cake. He shook his head, still smiling, and returned to the table to pour himself a glass of juice and finish the slice of freshly baked cake.
When he got up to take the plate and glass to the sink, he found an envelope hidden underneath it. It was baby blue, and Ianto recognised it as being one of the set that he kept in a box in the living room, just in case he forgot and needed one at short notice. He put the plate and glass back down and opened it to look at the picture first – kittens and flowers – and then to read the message inside.
“Ianto,
This isn't a date either, and I am still determined to collect. If stuff keeps getting in the way, I may have to take you home and ravish you, and do the date afterwards.
Tuesday, work permitting? (That's next Tuesday, not today.)
Hope you like the cake. I'm taking a slice to work with me, chef's prerogative.
Don't come in today, we'll handle it. Just rest your poorly head and think fondly on us poor wretches, slaving away in the darkness.
Love Jack.”
It finished with a ridiculous number of kisses filling up the bottom of the page, which gave the impression that Jack had just run out of things to say and hadn't wanted to leave the space. Ianto closed it and slid it back into the envelope, then hurried back to his bedroom to put it in the box in the bottom of the wardrobe with his other fond memories. He knew that Jack would get this box one day, and would look through it (because he cared, and he was nosey), and he'd find himself in there alongside Lisa, and Torchwood, and university, and school, and Rhiannon and their parents. Jack was overtaking even Lisa, now, and if he kept on the way he was going, he'd need a box to himself. He hoped that Jack appreciated that, because Ianto definitely did.
Next sections here