galadriel1010 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
galadriel1010) wrote2010-09-15 10:54 am
galadriel1010) wrote2010-09-15 10:54 am
Entry tags:
Schmoop_Bingo fills 6-10
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Prompt: Candlelit Dinner
Wordcount: 892
Summary: Jack uses his influence to set up an open-air dinner date with a spectacular view of the Bay.
Ianto was getting used to being wooed and courted. Little things, like a tin of his favourite hot chocolate appearing in the cupboard and a bottle of gold top milk to make it with in the fridge, and properly completed forms with little personal notes in the margins, nothing private, just sweet and personal. When he'd pointed out to Jack that the forms would go into the Archives and stay there, with his notes on them, he'd said, “I want them to. Let the future know.”
Ianto thought it was incredibly sweet, actually.
This, though, wasn't exactly a little thing. It was quite a big thing, actually, even for a first official date, and Ianto found himself wondering how he could possibly measure up in planning the next. Jack was standing in front of him, hands in his trouser pockets to keep them still, the warm light of evening warming the colours of his face and giving him a glow that was even healthier than usual. Behind him, a picnic blanket was laid out, with a wicker basket next to it, two candles and a bottle of wine lying on top of the basket. Ianto thought that this was incredibly sweet, too.
He took a step closer to Jack, so that he could rest the tips of his fingers on Jack's arm. “You closed the Barrage.”
“Yes I did.” Jack's cheek dimpled, just a little, with the smile that was thinking about forming.
“How closed?”
Jack shrugged one shoulder. “It's still open for shipping, and for emergency and contracted vehicles. Just closed to the public.”
“So we have it to ourselves?” he started rubbing his fingers on the soft cotton of Jack's shirt, greatcoat waiting forlornly at the Hub in deference to the hot weather.
Laughing, at last, Jack withdrew his hands from his pockets and caught Ianto's, pressing kisses to the fingertips of one hand whilst holding the other against his chest, pulling Ianto in by it. “Mr Jones, I really hope that you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting.”
Ianto kissed him, just a gentle brush of their lips, and trailed his tongue along Jack's bottom lip after it. “I might be.”
Jack laughed, and smothered it by dragging Ianto even closer and crushing their lips together properly. Soon they were laughing again, whilst Jack tugged Ianto towards the picnic blanket and fell backwards, tumbling Ianto on top of him and grunting with the impact. It sounded actually painful, so Ianto propped himself up on his hands and rolled to the side, running one hand soothingly down Jack's chest whilst he rested his cheek on the other. Seriously, he asked, “Did that hurt?”
“Yeah,” Jack admitted, pulling a face. “It was a stupid thing to do.”
“Well I wasn't going to say so, sir,” he demurred, smiling coyly.
“Wretch,” Jack laughed. He stopped when he turned his head to the side and found himself face to face with Ianto, though. “Ianto...”
Pressing his lips against Jack's, Ianto swallowed the end of his sentence, adding a silent one of his own in the sweep of his tongue and the gentle nip of his teeth. Jack spoke the language fluently, giving his reply in stroking hands and gently probing fingers.
Once they'd said everything they needed to say, they slowed and fell still, with Ianto sprawled across Jack, cheek pressed to his shoulder and half-closed eyes fixed on the sunset over Cardiff. Jack stroked his back and squeezed his hip, then pushed at it. “Come on, lump. Unless you're not hungry?”
“Starving,” Ianto sighed, sitting up and combing his fingers through his hair to neaten it from the disarray Jack had created. “What have you brought?”
Jack set the two candles and the bottle of wine upright next to the blanket and fished in the basket to retrieve a box of matches. Once he'd lit the candles, and whilst Ianto settled himself comfortably on the blanket to watch, he started fishing in the basket again. “I brought quiche, and French bread and pâté, and cheese and things.”
He pulled them out of the basket as he listed them, and Ianto found himself staring, and even hungrier than he had been before. “Jack, did you make this?” he gestured to the quiche.
“Yeah, I did,” Jack smiled, almost shy. “That's why I didn't come around last night; I wanted this to be perfect.”
Ianto busied himself cutting the bread. “How long have you been planning it?”
“I...” a bag of cherries emerged last, and Jack closed the basket. “I had the idea whilst I was...”
They'd still not covered that time, Jack's side of it, in any detail. Jack wasn't ready to talk about it, and Ianto understood that well enough to wait. He passed Jack a lump of the bread, also home-made, if he wasn't mistaken, and brushed their fingers together. “You're coming home with me tonight, aren't you?”
Jack spread pâté on the bread and smiled. “I'd like to, if I'm invited.”
“You are.” It was the perfect night: beautiful weather, good food, excellent company and a stunning view... The night had to have the perfect finish too. “You are what I want.”
Prompt: Pillow Fight
Wordcount: 650
Summary: Jack and Ianto debate terms of endearment
Jack was already awake when Ianto finally, reluctantly, opened his eyes. He, Ianto, was warm and relaxed, loose-limbed and heavy and still sprawled across Jack's chest where he'd fallen asleep the night before.
Tangling his fingers in his hair, Ianto reared back to yawn hugely and smile at Jack, and flopped, inelegantly, into the middle of the bed, fingers laced behind his head and legs still draped with Jack's. “Good morning,” he said at last, in a voice as thick and heavy as syrup.
“Good morning.” Jack smiled warmly and flattened the hand he wasn't using to prop himself up on Ianto's stomach, splaying his fingers as he leaned forwards to kiss him. “My beautiful boy.”
His smile slipped when Ianto thumped him with one of the spare pillows. “Hey! What was that for?”
Ianto scowled and rubbed at his sleep-heavy eyes. “I decided to take offence with the start of the sentence and work on from there.”
Jack dodged another thump from the offensive pillow. “What's wrong with good?”
“And now you're being facetious,“Ianto told him sitting up to be able to attack better. “I am not yours.” He thumped Jack again. “I am not beautiful.” Thump. “And I am not a boy.”
Still grinning, Jack took the pillow off him and raised it between them as a shield when Ianto lunged for another. “You are to me!”
“Not helping,” Ianto pointed out, raising the pillow to smack it against Jack's. His eyes sparkled with the laugh he was fighting back. “Try again.”
“Fire of my loins?” Jack suggested innocently, then ducked behind his pillow to hide from another attack.
“No.”
“Keeper of the key to my heart, guardian of my sanity, ow!” he gasped out and poked Ianto with his foot whilst his hands were engaged fighting off Ianto's attack. “King of Coffee? Ianto!”
“Now you've got it,” Ianto agreed, laughing even harder when Jack finally started fighting back properly. “Ianto, two syllables. Simples.”
Jack fought Ianto back onto the bed and pinned him down, trapping both of his wrists in one large hand above Ianto's head. “I'm trying to be romantic, here.”
“I think you overloaded my capacity for romance last night,” Ianto told him, almost apologetically. “Besides... no.” They stared at each other whilst their breathing steadied, and Ianto tugged one hand free from Jack's loose grasp to touch his heaving chest. “Kiss me.”
He smiled and lowered his head, pressing his lips to Ianto's and kissing lightly at the corner of his mouth, then moved away, kissing and nibbling a line down his jaw to just under his ear. He tugged on Ianto's earlobe with his teeth and smirked. “Beautiful.”
“Jack!” Ianto pushed him back and grabbed the pillow again, pinning him down and laughing so hard it hurt as he tried to trap Jack's hands and stop him getting a weapon. “Stop. Cease. Desist.”
Jack wriggled under him and sucked in a breath. “Ianto...” he whined, mood snapping from breathless with laughter to breathless with desire. “Do something...”
“Maybe,” he teased, rocking back just slightly before he lifted himself off Jack completely. “Take it back.”
“N... no,” Jack gasped, squirming under Ianto's gaze and trying to arch up. “You are beautiful.”
Ianto trailed his gaze down Jack's body: rumpled hair, dark eyes, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, arms drawn up and muscles tense, chest beaded with sweat, stomach tense and muscles jumping, cock swollen and red and definitely interested. “Jack... Gorgeous.”
He laughed, a sound that was half-groan. “Am I yours?”
Ianto dipped his head to kiss him. “Damn straight.”
“Not a boy, though.”
“Shut up,” Ianto muttered against his lips, silencing another laugh with a deep kiss.
Prompt: Cuddling in Darkness
Wordcount: 1350
Summary: Jack and Ianto are trapped in the Hub by a broken generator, and Ianto finds out about the sofa-bed
Ianto collected together the sections of his report for Jack and tucked them under his arm to carry them over to the coffee machine. He laid them on the side whilst he prepared two mugs of coffee and a bowl of spiral pasta in tomato sauce, then laid them all out on a tray with four forks and the last of the cake from lunch and tucked his report underneath the plate. The lights in the Hub flickered again just as he picked the tray up, and he sighed before turning carefully and carrying it up to Jack's office. “I didn't know if you'd be hungry as well, but I do know you and thought it was fairly likely.”
Jack smiled up at him and leaned forwards to turn his screen off, tidying the papers strewn across his desk into a neat pile in his in-tray. “You have impeccable timing, have I told you that lately?”
“Not lately, sir,” Ianto replied, putting the tray down as soon as there was space for it. “But the sentiment is appreciated.”
“Ianto...” Jack reached out and took Ianto's hand, pulling him until he settled into his lap. Once he was secure and not likely to either escape or fall, Jack wrapped one arm around his waist and cupped his cheek with the other, using it to angle his head for a gentle kiss. They kissed slowly, tongues winding together and teeth nipping gently. When he eventually pulled back, Jack stroked Ianto's cheek once more and kissed the corner of his jaw. “Are you finished for the day?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, tipping his head to the side slightly to give Jack better access. “I brought my report.”
“We'll deal with it in the morning,” Jack told him, and brushed his nose against Ianto's pulse point. “Let's knock off for the night.”
“Okay.” Ianto pushed himself out of Jack's lap, batting off his hands when he tried to pull him back down. “Jack, I'm too heavy to sit in your lap, and I'll be in the way if we want to eat.”
“Later?”
“Maybe,” he conceded. He picked the plate of cake up and set it at the back of Jack's desk, put the report into Jack's in-tray, put two of the forks into the pasta and put the bowl in front of Jack, and, finally, tugged the spare chair over so that he was sitting right next to Jack with their knees brushing together. Jack had picked up the two mugs, and gave Ianto's back to him with a smile. “Thanks,” Ianto said softly, returning his smile.
“No, thank you,” Jack insisted. “You're always looking after me.”
“It's my job,” he pointed out. Then he turned and kissed Jack. “But we both know that's not why I do it.”
They settled down to eat; the heavy forkfuls of soft pasta were delicious and filling in their simplicity, and they were content with enjoying each other's quiet company. About halfway through the meal, the lights died completely, and Ianto swore. “What the Hell?”
Jack squeezed his shoulder and rolled his chair back so that he could get into the bottom drawer for a torch. “Probably the generator, do you think?”
“I don't know,” Ianto sighed and put his fork down. “It could be. Do you want me to go and...”
“No, it's okay,” Jack stood up and kissed his forehead. “I'll go and have a look.”
Ianto nodded and watched him go, then stood up as well and opened the box at the bottom of Jack's bookcase to get at the bag of tealight candles. He set them up around the room, dotting them around the shelves of the bookcase and across Jack's desk, then lit them and the big brass gas-lamp which stood on the top of the bookcase. Heavy footsteps alerted him to Jack's return, and he waved the match out before it burned his fingers. “No luck?” he asked without turning.
Jack sighed and flopped back into his chair; the force pushed it back across the office, from concrete onto carpet, and Ianto turned back as he pulled himself back to the desk. “No luck,” he confirmed. “The fuel connector has got blocked somehow, it'll need replacing, so I've called Tosh and got her to order the part. I'll be delivered to her in the morning and she'll bring it in with her. But we're not in lockdown, so we've not got the emergency lighting.”
“Just you and me, and a dark Hub,” Ianto rested his hands on Jack's shoulders, then reached out with one to collect a forkful of pasta and feed it to Jack. “Do you think we can hold out until morning?”
“We can, but we might as well go home,” he suggested.
Ianto considered this, but shook his head. “The lift's out, and I'm too tired to take the stairs.”
Jack turned immediately and looked up at him in concern. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, Jack,” he ruffled Jack's hair and walked around him to sit down again. “It's just been a long day, and there's a lot of stairs.”
“Okay.” They finished the pasta at the desk, and then Jack picked up the plate of cake in one hand and took Ianto's with the other to lead him over to the sofa against the back wall of the office. He dragged a low table over and set the cake and some of the candles on it, then sat down on one end of the sofa and patted his lap. “Lie down.”
“Jack...”
“Humour me?” He asked, pouting slightly. “Come on...”
With a sigh, Ianto pulled off his jacket and tie to hang them on the coat stand, then sat next to Jack and curled sideways, resting his head against Jack's shoulder rather than in his lap. “This do?” he asked.
“It'll do,” Jack agreed, wrapping one arm around Ianto and kissing the corner of his eye. With his other hand he reached out for one of the forks and got a piece of cake. “Open.”
Ianto smiled and wrapped his arms around Jack, letting Jack feed them both. When it was done, Jack squirmed around so that their chests were together, and started combing his fingers through Ianto's hair. “I hope you're not getting crumbs in my hair,” he chided sleepily.
Jack's fingers paused, and he scratched at Ianto's scalp. “Go to sleep, Ianto.”
“Mmm.” He frowned when Jack eased out from under him and crouched in front of him to unfasten his trousers. “Jack?”
“Well, you'll get cross if they're creased,” he pointed out. “I'll go get some blankets, then we can pull the bed bit out...”
“It has a bed bit?” Ianto asked in surprise.
“Yes, it has a bed bit.” He helped Ianto upright and poked him to step out of his trousers, then gestured to his shirt with one hand whilst he moved him out of the way. “Like this.”
“So it does...” Jack disappeared through the hatch into his bunker and returned moments later with an armful of blankets, which he shook out and tossed loosely onto the bed, before guiding Ianto underneath them. In the half-light of the candle-lit office he undressed himself and went around blowing out the candles, dropping them into darkness. “We should do this more often,” he suggested, snuggling up to Ianto.
“Why do we use your bunker if you have a sofa-bed in here?” Ianto asked groggily.
Jack shrugged against him. “I like it down there, and it's more private... And I get to snuggle a lot closer.”
“You're pretty close now,” Ianto pointed out, getting even closer.
“Shh, sleep,” Jack chided. “For you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.”
Ianto was asleep before he'd finished laughing.
Prompt: Wedding: First Dance
Wordcount: 696
Summary: Whilst he watches Gwen and Rhys dance at their wedding, he remembers his own.
Jack picked up a glass of champagne from the table and turned around to watch the proceedings again. Ianto was at the DJ desk talking to Gwen; their heads were close together and he was smiling at her, nodding his agreement to whatever she was saying. Over in the corner, Tosh was picking at her food whilst Owen sulked with his chin on his folded arms, and Rhys was standing in front of the top table and appeared to be doing his best to ignore his mother. Jack grinned and raised the champagne flute to his lips, sipping gently and letting his eyes wander over the crowd, past the two bridesmaids, and back to Ianto and Gwen.
They kept talking for a while, then Gwen gave Ianto another brilliant smile and kissed his cheek before sweeping down from the stage and towards Rhys. Jack hid a grin in another sip of his champagne and shook his head, following her progress. He had to hand it to her, there weren't many women who could sweep as well as she could, even if it was really annoying when you were the one she was sweeping. Ianto, when he chanced another look, had his head down over the DJ desk, a tiny furrow between his eyes from his concentration. He looked up suddenly and caught Jack's gaze across the room, letting his soft smile smooth away the frown lines and making him look as young as he actually was for a change. Jack's heart skipped a beat as the shock of it sank in again, and he returned Ianto's smile tremulously.
Gwen clapped her hands and clasped them together against her shoulder, looking at Ianto over her shoulder. He nodded at her and picked up a microphone off the desk, tapping it twice to check that it was on and raising it to his lips. “If I could have your attention please? Mr and Mrs Williams are going to take to the floor for their first dance as a married couple, and they've chosen Calon Lân.”
As the music started up, Jack closed his eyes and swayed into it, mouthing the words along with the rich singing of a recorded male voice choir. His smile faded, and he opened his eyes again to watch Gwen and Rhys swaying together in the middle of the floor, surrounded by family and friends, ready to start out on a new life as a married couple.
Wedding traditions had change a lot since he'd got married. Sarah's father, Roger, knowing that Jack had no parents to look after him, had taken it upon himself to make sure that Jack could waltz for the first dance, insisting that anyone who was marrying his little girl had to do it properly. He'd been so proud of both of them when he walked down the aisle with Sarah's arm through his, ready and willing to give her into Jack's care. It had been a simple wedding, on the eve of war when so many other couples were getting married in a hurry. They'd married in church, a full service for her religious family, and then gone to her uncle's farm, where tables and tents were set up in one of the fallow fields, and they'd eaten simple, healthy meals that Sarah and Anne, her mother, had prepared, and their first dance had been dusk-lit and accompanied by her cousin on the violin.
His best man had been Gerald, the director of Torchwood, there because he'd insisted that he keep an eye on Jack, rather than because Jack had wanted him there. The organisation had made his life miserable since he joined them, and the one bright patch in it was the beautiful young woman he'd helped up when she fell off her bicycle and, somewhere down the line, fallen in love with.
They had waltzed around the field, laughing when she tripped over his feet – she was never the most co-ordinated of people – until he picked her up and waltzed her around with her feet dangling off the ground, surrounded by the laughter and love of her family in the warm summer night.
Prompt: Memories: Scrapbook or Photo Album
Wordcount: 1232
Summary: Jack shares with Ianto the memories that Gwen's wedding has unlocked, and they discuss a unique aspect of Jack's anatomy.
Jack sat behind his desk and reached down to the bottom drawer, unlocking it and pulling it open to get the tin out of it. Ianto was in the main Hub still, locking the gun away in the armoury again and updating the Retcon log with the amount they'd had to use on Gwen and Rhys's family. He sighed and opened the tin to sort through the pictures, and found the one he was looking for.
“Jack?” Ianto called up. “Are you ready?”
He put the papers back into the tin and locked it again, turning to look over his shoulder at the figure in the darkened doorway. “Yeah, have you finished down there?”
“Yep,” he popped the p, as always, and Jack tried to hide a smile. “All done.”
“I'm sorry; I meant to come down and help you,” he apologised. He stood up and reached out for his coat, but Ianto beat him to it and held it out for him. “You do too much for me.”
“I know. Are you feeling better now?” Ianto's hands were resting on his shoulders, radiating heat through the heavy wool.
Jack turned, dislodging his hands, and smiled. “I'm getting there. I've got something to show you.”
“Back to my place, then?”
“Yeah,” Jack studied him and cupped his cheek gently, stepping closer to see him better in the dim light. “I'll drive, and I'll show you in the morning. You look exhausted.”
“I'm fine,” Ianto insisted.
“And you'll be even better if you get a good night's sleep and let me take care of you, alright?” he pressed his lips to Ianto's to forestall any arguments and then pulled away to pick up the tin. “Coming?”
“Well, it is my flat,” Ianto pointed out with vague amusement.
In the morning, Ianto stretched out in the otherwise empty bed and tried to force his eyes open. The room was dark, and he could hear rain spattering against the window, but the clock was covered by something – probably Jack's underpants.
Slowly, he tucked his knees up to his chest and wrapped one arm around them, curling the other under his head and closing his eyes again. The duvet was thick and warm, and he had absolutely no desire to leave its security.
Somewhere, Jack chuckled, and the bed dipped soon after, duvet lifting to let Jack slip underneath. Ianto grunted his displeasure, but rolled over and let Jack gather him close, arms wrapped tight around him. “Morning, Jack,” he muttered, sliding his hand up to Jack's shoulder. “Can I stay here?”
Jack laughed and rubbed at Ianto's back. “Not all day, but you can for now. Go back to sleep.”
“Don't want to sleep,” he insisted. “Just don't want to move. What time is it?”
“Nine, about.”
“Nine?” he tensed up and pushed himself back. “We should be at work...”
Jack was laughing, and pulled him back in against his chest. “Says who? The boss? Boss says that we finished very late last night and that you and Tosh needed your sleep, and that you don't need to be in until this afternoon, unless something comes up. And it hasn't come up.”
Ianto sighed and relaxed fully. “I knew there were advantages to shagging the boss.”
“What, besides the boss?” Jack teased, rubbing his back and kissing the top of his head. “You happy to stay down there?”
“Hmm, very,” he agreed, wrapping lazy arms around Jack in return. They lay there in silence for a while, until Ianto found the inclination to move again. When he did, he pulled back enough to look up at Jack. “What was it you wanted to show me?”
Jack reached for the cupboard in his bedside cabinet, pulling out the box that Ianto had seen him with the night before. “This is my box of... things, of memories,” he explained, sitting up against the headrest. Ianto followed him and sat next to him, letting the duvet pool around his hips and folding his hands on top of them. “Photos and papers that I need to remember.”
“You should preserve them better,” Ianto suggested, reaching out to touch the fragile papers. “There's something in the archive that you could use to store them better.”
Tipping his chin up with one finger, Jack leant in to kiss Ianto again and smiled. “I want to put a photo of us in here. Professionally done, I mean.”
“Do you keep everyone you sleep with?” Ianto asked, accepting the pile from Jack and starting to sort through them.
“No,” Jack told him quietly. “Just the special ones.”
Ianto looked up at him again and smiled. “I'll be in good company, then. Who's this?”
Jack took the photo from him and smiled sadly. “Sarah, my wife. Late wife. Very late wife. We were married in nineteen thirteen, before I got shipped off to war. And we had...” he took the pile from Ianto again and shuffled through it until he found a photo of two small children, a young girl with a baby of indeterminate gender on her lap. “Catherine and Joseph. Catherine was a little over three years older.” He swallowed hard and Ianto took the photo out of his shaking hand, squeezing his hand gently. “Died within a day of each other, and Sarah.”
“Oh Jack...” Ianto wrapped his arm around Jack's shoulders and squeezed. “Spanish flu?”
“Yeah. It was a terrifying time,” he swallowed again and shook the weight away. Time had blunted the pain. “That's Tommy, my second world war airman,” he chuckled. “Just my co-pilot, but we were close. And that's Estelle in her younger days. Wendy, who I lived with at the start of the sixties, and this is Lucia and Melissa,” he showed Ianto a photo of an attractive young woman with Mediterranean colouring with a young girl on her hip, and Jack's arms wrapped around both of them, all three of them laughing. It was hidden inside a folded copy of the Melissa's birth certificate. “Now called Alice; she doesn't speak to me.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “Lucia and I split up, she didn't want to grow old in front of me, and I couldn't give her any more children. Increased levels of oestrogen in the water supply in the early seventies wrecked my reproductive system. It thinks I'm pregnant.”
“So that's why you eat so much,” Ianto said without thinking.
Jack laughed and kissed him. “Yes, that is why I eat so much. And why I have weird cravings sometimes.” He shrugged again. “She was Italian, wanted a big family to please her mama. Didn't get her big family, but she tried.” He turned quiet again. “So when you leave... I'll understand.”
Ianto swallowed and took Jack's hand again. “You know... you know it's most likely to be 'til death us do part', don't you?”
Their fingers laced together and Jack looked up at him from their joined hands. “I shouldn't find that reassuring. But it's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a very long time.”
Next section here
Prompt: Candlelit Dinner
Wordcount: 892
Summary: Jack uses his influence to set up an open-air dinner date with a spectacular view of the Bay.
Ianto was getting used to being wooed and courted. Little things, like a tin of his favourite hot chocolate appearing in the cupboard and a bottle of gold top milk to make it with in the fridge, and properly completed forms with little personal notes in the margins, nothing private, just sweet and personal. When he'd pointed out to Jack that the forms would go into the Archives and stay there, with his notes on them, he'd said, “I want them to. Let the future know.”
Ianto thought it was incredibly sweet, actually.
This, though, wasn't exactly a little thing. It was quite a big thing, actually, even for a first official date, and Ianto found himself wondering how he could possibly measure up in planning the next. Jack was standing in front of him, hands in his trouser pockets to keep them still, the warm light of evening warming the colours of his face and giving him a glow that was even healthier than usual. Behind him, a picnic blanket was laid out, with a wicker basket next to it, two candles and a bottle of wine lying on top of the basket. Ianto thought that this was incredibly sweet, too.
He took a step closer to Jack, so that he could rest the tips of his fingers on Jack's arm. “You closed the Barrage.”
“Yes I did.” Jack's cheek dimpled, just a little, with the smile that was thinking about forming.
“How closed?”
Jack shrugged one shoulder. “It's still open for shipping, and for emergency and contracted vehicles. Just closed to the public.”
“So we have it to ourselves?” he started rubbing his fingers on the soft cotton of Jack's shirt, greatcoat waiting forlornly at the Hub in deference to the hot weather.
Laughing, at last, Jack withdrew his hands from his pockets and caught Ianto's, pressing kisses to the fingertips of one hand whilst holding the other against his chest, pulling Ianto in by it. “Mr Jones, I really hope that you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting.”
Ianto kissed him, just a gentle brush of their lips, and trailed his tongue along Jack's bottom lip after it. “I might be.”
Jack laughed, and smothered it by dragging Ianto even closer and crushing their lips together properly. Soon they were laughing again, whilst Jack tugged Ianto towards the picnic blanket and fell backwards, tumbling Ianto on top of him and grunting with the impact. It sounded actually painful, so Ianto propped himself up on his hands and rolled to the side, running one hand soothingly down Jack's chest whilst he rested his cheek on the other. Seriously, he asked, “Did that hurt?”
“Yeah,” Jack admitted, pulling a face. “It was a stupid thing to do.”
“Well I wasn't going to say so, sir,” he demurred, smiling coyly.
“Wretch,” Jack laughed. He stopped when he turned his head to the side and found himself face to face with Ianto, though. “Ianto...”
Pressing his lips against Jack's, Ianto swallowed the end of his sentence, adding a silent one of his own in the sweep of his tongue and the gentle nip of his teeth. Jack spoke the language fluently, giving his reply in stroking hands and gently probing fingers.
Once they'd said everything they needed to say, they slowed and fell still, with Ianto sprawled across Jack, cheek pressed to his shoulder and half-closed eyes fixed on the sunset over Cardiff. Jack stroked his back and squeezed his hip, then pushed at it. “Come on, lump. Unless you're not hungry?”
“Starving,” Ianto sighed, sitting up and combing his fingers through his hair to neaten it from the disarray Jack had created. “What have you brought?”
Jack set the two candles and the bottle of wine upright next to the blanket and fished in the basket to retrieve a box of matches. Once he'd lit the candles, and whilst Ianto settled himself comfortably on the blanket to watch, he started fishing in the basket again. “I brought quiche, and French bread and pâté, and cheese and things.”
He pulled them out of the basket as he listed them, and Ianto found himself staring, and even hungrier than he had been before. “Jack, did you make this?” he gestured to the quiche.
“Yeah, I did,” Jack smiled, almost shy. “That's why I didn't come around last night; I wanted this to be perfect.”
Ianto busied himself cutting the bread. “How long have you been planning it?”
“I...” a bag of cherries emerged last, and Jack closed the basket. “I had the idea whilst I was...”
They'd still not covered that time, Jack's side of it, in any detail. Jack wasn't ready to talk about it, and Ianto understood that well enough to wait. He passed Jack a lump of the bread, also home-made, if he wasn't mistaken, and brushed their fingers together. “You're coming home with me tonight, aren't you?”
Jack spread pâté on the bread and smiled. “I'd like to, if I'm invited.”
“You are.” It was the perfect night: beautiful weather, good food, excellent company and a stunning view... The night had to have the perfect finish too. “You are what I want.”
Prompt: Pillow Fight
Wordcount: 650
Summary: Jack and Ianto debate terms of endearment
Jack was already awake when Ianto finally, reluctantly, opened his eyes. He, Ianto, was warm and relaxed, loose-limbed and heavy and still sprawled across Jack's chest where he'd fallen asleep the night before.
Tangling his fingers in his hair, Ianto reared back to yawn hugely and smile at Jack, and flopped, inelegantly, into the middle of the bed, fingers laced behind his head and legs still draped with Jack's. “Good morning,” he said at last, in a voice as thick and heavy as syrup.
“Good morning.” Jack smiled warmly and flattened the hand he wasn't using to prop himself up on Ianto's stomach, splaying his fingers as he leaned forwards to kiss him. “My beautiful boy.”
His smile slipped when Ianto thumped him with one of the spare pillows. “Hey! What was that for?”
Ianto scowled and rubbed at his sleep-heavy eyes. “I decided to take offence with the start of the sentence and work on from there.”
Jack dodged another thump from the offensive pillow. “What's wrong with good?”
“And now you're being facetious,“Ianto told him sitting up to be able to attack better. “I am not yours.” He thumped Jack again. “I am not beautiful.” Thump. “And I am not a boy.”
Still grinning, Jack took the pillow off him and raised it between them as a shield when Ianto lunged for another. “You are to me!”
“Not helping,” Ianto pointed out, raising the pillow to smack it against Jack's. His eyes sparkled with the laugh he was fighting back. “Try again.”
“Fire of my loins?” Jack suggested innocently, then ducked behind his pillow to hide from another attack.
“No.”
“Keeper of the key to my heart, guardian of my sanity, ow!” he gasped out and poked Ianto with his foot whilst his hands were engaged fighting off Ianto's attack. “King of Coffee? Ianto!”
“Now you've got it,” Ianto agreed, laughing even harder when Jack finally started fighting back properly. “Ianto, two syllables. Simples.”
Jack fought Ianto back onto the bed and pinned him down, trapping both of his wrists in one large hand above Ianto's head. “I'm trying to be romantic, here.”
“I think you overloaded my capacity for romance last night,” Ianto told him, almost apologetically. “Besides... no.” They stared at each other whilst their breathing steadied, and Ianto tugged one hand free from Jack's loose grasp to touch his heaving chest. “Kiss me.”
He smiled and lowered his head, pressing his lips to Ianto's and kissing lightly at the corner of his mouth, then moved away, kissing and nibbling a line down his jaw to just under his ear. He tugged on Ianto's earlobe with his teeth and smirked. “Beautiful.”
“Jack!” Ianto pushed him back and grabbed the pillow again, pinning him down and laughing so hard it hurt as he tried to trap Jack's hands and stop him getting a weapon. “Stop. Cease. Desist.”
Jack wriggled under him and sucked in a breath. “Ianto...” he whined, mood snapping from breathless with laughter to breathless with desire. “Do something...”
“Maybe,” he teased, rocking back just slightly before he lifted himself off Jack completely. “Take it back.”
“N... no,” Jack gasped, squirming under Ianto's gaze and trying to arch up. “You are beautiful.”
Ianto trailed his gaze down Jack's body: rumpled hair, dark eyes, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, arms drawn up and muscles tense, chest beaded with sweat, stomach tense and muscles jumping, cock swollen and red and definitely interested. “Jack... Gorgeous.”
He laughed, a sound that was half-groan. “Am I yours?”
Ianto dipped his head to kiss him. “Damn straight.”
“Not a boy, though.”
“Shut up,” Ianto muttered against his lips, silencing another laugh with a deep kiss.
Prompt: Cuddling in Darkness
Wordcount: 1350
Summary: Jack and Ianto are trapped in the Hub by a broken generator, and Ianto finds out about the sofa-bed
Ianto collected together the sections of his report for Jack and tucked them under his arm to carry them over to the coffee machine. He laid them on the side whilst he prepared two mugs of coffee and a bowl of spiral pasta in tomato sauce, then laid them all out on a tray with four forks and the last of the cake from lunch and tucked his report underneath the plate. The lights in the Hub flickered again just as he picked the tray up, and he sighed before turning carefully and carrying it up to Jack's office. “I didn't know if you'd be hungry as well, but I do know you and thought it was fairly likely.”
Jack smiled up at him and leaned forwards to turn his screen off, tidying the papers strewn across his desk into a neat pile in his in-tray. “You have impeccable timing, have I told you that lately?”
“Not lately, sir,” Ianto replied, putting the tray down as soon as there was space for it. “But the sentiment is appreciated.”
“Ianto...” Jack reached out and took Ianto's hand, pulling him until he settled into his lap. Once he was secure and not likely to either escape or fall, Jack wrapped one arm around his waist and cupped his cheek with the other, using it to angle his head for a gentle kiss. They kissed slowly, tongues winding together and teeth nipping gently. When he eventually pulled back, Jack stroked Ianto's cheek once more and kissed the corner of his jaw. “Are you finished for the day?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, tipping his head to the side slightly to give Jack better access. “I brought my report.”
“We'll deal with it in the morning,” Jack told him, and brushed his nose against Ianto's pulse point. “Let's knock off for the night.”
“Okay.” Ianto pushed himself out of Jack's lap, batting off his hands when he tried to pull him back down. “Jack, I'm too heavy to sit in your lap, and I'll be in the way if we want to eat.”
“Later?”
“Maybe,” he conceded. He picked the plate of cake up and set it at the back of Jack's desk, put the report into Jack's in-tray, put two of the forks into the pasta and put the bowl in front of Jack, and, finally, tugged the spare chair over so that he was sitting right next to Jack with their knees brushing together. Jack had picked up the two mugs, and gave Ianto's back to him with a smile. “Thanks,” Ianto said softly, returning his smile.
“No, thank you,” Jack insisted. “You're always looking after me.”
“It's my job,” he pointed out. Then he turned and kissed Jack. “But we both know that's not why I do it.”
They settled down to eat; the heavy forkfuls of soft pasta were delicious and filling in their simplicity, and they were content with enjoying each other's quiet company. About halfway through the meal, the lights died completely, and Ianto swore. “What the Hell?”
Jack squeezed his shoulder and rolled his chair back so that he could get into the bottom drawer for a torch. “Probably the generator, do you think?”
“I don't know,” Ianto sighed and put his fork down. “It could be. Do you want me to go and...”
“No, it's okay,” Jack stood up and kissed his forehead. “I'll go and have a look.”
Ianto nodded and watched him go, then stood up as well and opened the box at the bottom of Jack's bookcase to get at the bag of tealight candles. He set them up around the room, dotting them around the shelves of the bookcase and across Jack's desk, then lit them and the big brass gas-lamp which stood on the top of the bookcase. Heavy footsteps alerted him to Jack's return, and he waved the match out before it burned his fingers. “No luck?” he asked without turning.
Jack sighed and flopped back into his chair; the force pushed it back across the office, from concrete onto carpet, and Ianto turned back as he pulled himself back to the desk. “No luck,” he confirmed. “The fuel connector has got blocked somehow, it'll need replacing, so I've called Tosh and got her to order the part. I'll be delivered to her in the morning and she'll bring it in with her. But we're not in lockdown, so we've not got the emergency lighting.”
“Just you and me, and a dark Hub,” Ianto rested his hands on Jack's shoulders, then reached out with one to collect a forkful of pasta and feed it to Jack. “Do you think we can hold out until morning?”
“We can, but we might as well go home,” he suggested.
Ianto considered this, but shook his head. “The lift's out, and I'm too tired to take the stairs.”
Jack turned immediately and looked up at him in concern. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, Jack,” he ruffled Jack's hair and walked around him to sit down again. “It's just been a long day, and there's a lot of stairs.”
“Okay.” They finished the pasta at the desk, and then Jack picked up the plate of cake in one hand and took Ianto's with the other to lead him over to the sofa against the back wall of the office. He dragged a low table over and set the cake and some of the candles on it, then sat down on one end of the sofa and patted his lap. “Lie down.”
“Jack...”
“Humour me?” He asked, pouting slightly. “Come on...”
With a sigh, Ianto pulled off his jacket and tie to hang them on the coat stand, then sat next to Jack and curled sideways, resting his head against Jack's shoulder rather than in his lap. “This do?” he asked.
“It'll do,” Jack agreed, wrapping one arm around Ianto and kissing the corner of his eye. With his other hand he reached out for one of the forks and got a piece of cake. “Open.”
Ianto smiled and wrapped his arms around Jack, letting Jack feed them both. When it was done, Jack squirmed around so that their chests were together, and started combing his fingers through Ianto's hair. “I hope you're not getting crumbs in my hair,” he chided sleepily.
Jack's fingers paused, and he scratched at Ianto's scalp. “Go to sleep, Ianto.”
“Mmm.” He frowned when Jack eased out from under him and crouched in front of him to unfasten his trousers. “Jack?”
“Well, you'll get cross if they're creased,” he pointed out. “I'll go get some blankets, then we can pull the bed bit out...”
“It has a bed bit?” Ianto asked in surprise.
“Yes, it has a bed bit.” He helped Ianto upright and poked him to step out of his trousers, then gestured to his shirt with one hand whilst he moved him out of the way. “Like this.”
“So it does...” Jack disappeared through the hatch into his bunker and returned moments later with an armful of blankets, which he shook out and tossed loosely onto the bed, before guiding Ianto underneath them. In the half-light of the candle-lit office he undressed himself and went around blowing out the candles, dropping them into darkness. “We should do this more often,” he suggested, snuggling up to Ianto.
“Why do we use your bunker if you have a sofa-bed in here?” Ianto asked groggily.
Jack shrugged against him. “I like it down there, and it's more private... And I get to snuggle a lot closer.”
“You're pretty close now,” Ianto pointed out, getting even closer.
“Shh, sleep,” Jack chided. “For you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.”
Ianto was asleep before he'd finished laughing.
Prompt: Wedding: First Dance
Wordcount: 696
Summary: Whilst he watches Gwen and Rhys dance at their wedding, he remembers his own.
Jack picked up a glass of champagne from the table and turned around to watch the proceedings again. Ianto was at the DJ desk talking to Gwen; their heads were close together and he was smiling at her, nodding his agreement to whatever she was saying. Over in the corner, Tosh was picking at her food whilst Owen sulked with his chin on his folded arms, and Rhys was standing in front of the top table and appeared to be doing his best to ignore his mother. Jack grinned and raised the champagne flute to his lips, sipping gently and letting his eyes wander over the crowd, past the two bridesmaids, and back to Ianto and Gwen.
They kept talking for a while, then Gwen gave Ianto another brilliant smile and kissed his cheek before sweeping down from the stage and towards Rhys. Jack hid a grin in another sip of his champagne and shook his head, following her progress. He had to hand it to her, there weren't many women who could sweep as well as she could, even if it was really annoying when you were the one she was sweeping. Ianto, when he chanced another look, had his head down over the DJ desk, a tiny furrow between his eyes from his concentration. He looked up suddenly and caught Jack's gaze across the room, letting his soft smile smooth away the frown lines and making him look as young as he actually was for a change. Jack's heart skipped a beat as the shock of it sank in again, and he returned Ianto's smile tremulously.
Gwen clapped her hands and clasped them together against her shoulder, looking at Ianto over her shoulder. He nodded at her and picked up a microphone off the desk, tapping it twice to check that it was on and raising it to his lips. “If I could have your attention please? Mr and Mrs Williams are going to take to the floor for their first dance as a married couple, and they've chosen Calon Lân.”
As the music started up, Jack closed his eyes and swayed into it, mouthing the words along with the rich singing of a recorded male voice choir. His smile faded, and he opened his eyes again to watch Gwen and Rhys swaying together in the middle of the floor, surrounded by family and friends, ready to start out on a new life as a married couple.
Wedding traditions had change a lot since he'd got married. Sarah's father, Roger, knowing that Jack had no parents to look after him, had taken it upon himself to make sure that Jack could waltz for the first dance, insisting that anyone who was marrying his little girl had to do it properly. He'd been so proud of both of them when he walked down the aisle with Sarah's arm through his, ready and willing to give her into Jack's care. It had been a simple wedding, on the eve of war when so many other couples were getting married in a hurry. They'd married in church, a full service for her religious family, and then gone to her uncle's farm, where tables and tents were set up in one of the fallow fields, and they'd eaten simple, healthy meals that Sarah and Anne, her mother, had prepared, and their first dance had been dusk-lit and accompanied by her cousin on the violin.
His best man had been Gerald, the director of Torchwood, there because he'd insisted that he keep an eye on Jack, rather than because Jack had wanted him there. The organisation had made his life miserable since he joined them, and the one bright patch in it was the beautiful young woman he'd helped up when she fell off her bicycle and, somewhere down the line, fallen in love with.
They had waltzed around the field, laughing when she tripped over his feet – she was never the most co-ordinated of people – until he picked her up and waltzed her around with her feet dangling off the ground, surrounded by the laughter and love of her family in the warm summer night.
Prompt: Memories: Scrapbook or Photo Album
Wordcount: 1232
Summary: Jack shares with Ianto the memories that Gwen's wedding has unlocked, and they discuss a unique aspect of Jack's anatomy.
Jack sat behind his desk and reached down to the bottom drawer, unlocking it and pulling it open to get the tin out of it. Ianto was in the main Hub still, locking the gun away in the armoury again and updating the Retcon log with the amount they'd had to use on Gwen and Rhys's family. He sighed and opened the tin to sort through the pictures, and found the one he was looking for.
“Jack?” Ianto called up. “Are you ready?”
He put the papers back into the tin and locked it again, turning to look over his shoulder at the figure in the darkened doorway. “Yeah, have you finished down there?”
“Yep,” he popped the p, as always, and Jack tried to hide a smile. “All done.”
“I'm sorry; I meant to come down and help you,” he apologised. He stood up and reached out for his coat, but Ianto beat him to it and held it out for him. “You do too much for me.”
“I know. Are you feeling better now?” Ianto's hands were resting on his shoulders, radiating heat through the heavy wool.
Jack turned, dislodging his hands, and smiled. “I'm getting there. I've got something to show you.”
“Back to my place, then?”
“Yeah,” Jack studied him and cupped his cheek gently, stepping closer to see him better in the dim light. “I'll drive, and I'll show you in the morning. You look exhausted.”
“I'm fine,” Ianto insisted.
“And you'll be even better if you get a good night's sleep and let me take care of you, alright?” he pressed his lips to Ianto's to forestall any arguments and then pulled away to pick up the tin. “Coming?”
“Well, it is my flat,” Ianto pointed out with vague amusement.
In the morning, Ianto stretched out in the otherwise empty bed and tried to force his eyes open. The room was dark, and he could hear rain spattering against the window, but the clock was covered by something – probably Jack's underpants.
Slowly, he tucked his knees up to his chest and wrapped one arm around them, curling the other under his head and closing his eyes again. The duvet was thick and warm, and he had absolutely no desire to leave its security.
Somewhere, Jack chuckled, and the bed dipped soon after, duvet lifting to let Jack slip underneath. Ianto grunted his displeasure, but rolled over and let Jack gather him close, arms wrapped tight around him. “Morning, Jack,” he muttered, sliding his hand up to Jack's shoulder. “Can I stay here?”
Jack laughed and rubbed at Ianto's back. “Not all day, but you can for now. Go back to sleep.”
“Don't want to sleep,” he insisted. “Just don't want to move. What time is it?”
“Nine, about.”
“Nine?” he tensed up and pushed himself back. “We should be at work...”
Jack was laughing, and pulled him back in against his chest. “Says who? The boss? Boss says that we finished very late last night and that you and Tosh needed your sleep, and that you don't need to be in until this afternoon, unless something comes up. And it hasn't come up.”
Ianto sighed and relaxed fully. “I knew there were advantages to shagging the boss.”
“What, besides the boss?” Jack teased, rubbing his back and kissing the top of his head. “You happy to stay down there?”
“Hmm, very,” he agreed, wrapping lazy arms around Jack in return. They lay there in silence for a while, until Ianto found the inclination to move again. When he did, he pulled back enough to look up at Jack. “What was it you wanted to show me?”
Jack reached for the cupboard in his bedside cabinet, pulling out the box that Ianto had seen him with the night before. “This is my box of... things, of memories,” he explained, sitting up against the headrest. Ianto followed him and sat next to him, letting the duvet pool around his hips and folding his hands on top of them. “Photos and papers that I need to remember.”
“You should preserve them better,” Ianto suggested, reaching out to touch the fragile papers. “There's something in the archive that you could use to store them better.”
Tipping his chin up with one finger, Jack leant in to kiss Ianto again and smiled. “I want to put a photo of us in here. Professionally done, I mean.”
“Do you keep everyone you sleep with?” Ianto asked, accepting the pile from Jack and starting to sort through them.
“No,” Jack told him quietly. “Just the special ones.”
Ianto looked up at him again and smiled. “I'll be in good company, then. Who's this?”
Jack took the photo from him and smiled sadly. “Sarah, my wife. Late wife. Very late wife. We were married in nineteen thirteen, before I got shipped off to war. And we had...” he took the pile from Ianto again and shuffled through it until he found a photo of two small children, a young girl with a baby of indeterminate gender on her lap. “Catherine and Joseph. Catherine was a little over three years older.” He swallowed hard and Ianto took the photo out of his shaking hand, squeezing his hand gently. “Died within a day of each other, and Sarah.”
“Oh Jack...” Ianto wrapped his arm around Jack's shoulders and squeezed. “Spanish flu?”
“Yeah. It was a terrifying time,” he swallowed again and shook the weight away. Time had blunted the pain. “That's Tommy, my second world war airman,” he chuckled. “Just my co-pilot, but we were close. And that's Estelle in her younger days. Wendy, who I lived with at the start of the sixties, and this is Lucia and Melissa,” he showed Ianto a photo of an attractive young woman with Mediterranean colouring with a young girl on her hip, and Jack's arms wrapped around both of them, all three of them laughing. It was hidden inside a folded copy of the Melissa's birth certificate. “Now called Alice; she doesn't speak to me.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “Lucia and I split up, she didn't want to grow old in front of me, and I couldn't give her any more children. Increased levels of oestrogen in the water supply in the early seventies wrecked my reproductive system. It thinks I'm pregnant.”
“So that's why you eat so much,” Ianto said without thinking.
Jack laughed and kissed him. “Yes, that is why I eat so much. And why I have weird cravings sometimes.” He shrugged again. “She was Italian, wanted a big family to please her mama. Didn't get her big family, but she tried.” He turned quiet again. “So when you leave... I'll understand.”
Ianto swallowed and took Jack's hand again. “You know... you know it's most likely to be 'til death us do part', don't you?”
Their fingers laced together and Jack looked up at him from their joined hands. “I shouldn't find that reassuring. But it's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a very long time.”
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