Another Life by a_silver_story | Part 22
May. 12th, 2010 05:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a_silver_storyTitle: Another Life
Chapter: 22 | ??
Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
a_silver_story
Genre Alternate Universe, Romance
Rating: NC-17 just to be safe.
Warnings: A bit of angst, and some tentacles and d/c in the future.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know.
Summary: Ianto finds himself heartbroken and alone, but eventually learns that no matter what point in Captain Jack Harkness' life he finds himself, they will always fall in love.
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Another Life
Another Life XXII
“I'm taking Giacomo to Rhys' for a bit!” he called through to the bedroom, where Captain Jack hadn't budged since he'd been thrown in there (by an overly amorous Ianto) the night before. “If you do plan on getting up, see if you can get at least a bit of packing done, yeah?”
There was a muffled reply – probably Jack drowning himself in the duvet while trying to communicate – and Ianto decided it was some form of affirmative. He rolled his eyes to no one in particular and crouched down to help Giacomo with the buttons of his Captain Coat, as he called it. It didn't help that he didn't seem that interested in pausing colouring while Ianto got him ready for Rhys, and Ianto was getting more and more stressed the less and less co-operative Giacomo was becoming. Every scratch of the coloured pencil was driving him closer to snatching them all away and snapping them.
“Are we going to Rhys' or not?” he eventually asked, his tone short and clipped.
“Yeah! I just wanna finish this bit first.”
“I told you to be ready by eleven 'o' clock. It's ten past! We're already late.”
“Rhys won't mind,” Giacomo reasoned.
“I mind,” Ianto muttered. “Come on – put those away.”
“I wanna take them!”
“Then put them away, put them in a bag and then carry the bag to Rhys' flat! Now come on, Giacomo! I have lots to do today and you're slowing everything down.”
Giacomo scowled at him and folded his arms. “Well, I'm sorry, Daddy – but you can't rush art!”
Ianto tried not to laugh.
He really did.
Another ten minutes of fuss and a very sulky Giacomo later, they were ready to go. They were halfway down the corridor leading from Jack's office to the stairs when Giacomo changed his mind about not taking Shirley, and they doubled back to go and fetch her. Three quarters of the way down their second attempt at the corridor, Giacomo realised he'd left his bag of crayons and pad of paper when he'd gone to get his hamster-dog, so they went back for that as well. Their feet touched the top of the stairs just as Giacomo then recalled he'd forgotten a drawing he'd done for Rhys that he desperately had to give him this time they went to visit and no other.
Ianto drew a line, and he told Giacomo in no uncertain terms that they were forty minutes late and they were not doubling back again.
So Giacomo started crying.
Folding his arms, Ianto slumped against the wall and sighed in exasperation. When Giacomo behaved, it was fine – but he could be an awkward, naughty little bugger at times. Ianto was at a loss with what to do with him when he misbehaved, really. He was learning to tell the difference between Giacomo's genuine mistakes and when he was just being annoying. Similarly to parents, Giacomo worked a punishment and reward system, and right now Ianto had the feeling he was being punished with Giacomo's bad behaviour. He wasn't sure what for yet, but it would undoubtedly become apparent.
He rolled his eyes.
“Fine – you stay here and pack. I'm going to Rhys' with or without you. To be honest, in this mood I'd be much happier to go without.”
He ignored Little Jack's cries and turned on his heel, making his way down the first flight of stairs before hearing Giacomo's sobs slowing to a sniffle and little feet shuffling to catch up with him.
They walked the way to Rhys' flat in cold silence, which wasn't helped by the distinct lack of presence from the five hundred people who had already been packed away and moved on. The entire building had been deathly quiet for three days, and a resigned atmosphere had settled into the place.
Finally Ianto pushed open Rhys' front door and called a quick 'hello?' inside before making his way to the living room. Rhys was sat on the couch with a cup of tea, and grinned when they walked in.
“Bit late?”
“Mm,” Ianto replied despondently. “Take him, he yours,” he grumbled, giving Giacomo a gentle shove towards the couch.
Rhys raised his eyebrows. “What's up?”
“He's been an awkward and cheeky little bugger all morning. If you wanna run away and keep him, now's your chance.”
Giacomo had the sense to look guilty, cuddling Shirley close as she licked at his chin.
“Ugh – don't let the dog lick your face, Giacomo,” Ianto grimaced.
“She's giving me a kiss!” Giacomo scowled.
“She has no concept of kissing, Giacomo. She's tasting your face, and it's not hygienic.”
So Giacomo started crying again.
Rhys moved closer and put an arm around him. “Hey, shush now. It's okay, it's okay ….”
Ianto folded his arms defensively. “You're worse than the Captain. You know that?” he snapped at Rhys.
“Excuse me?”
“Mollycoddling him all the time. You let him play you and it's painful to watch!”
“Oh – and you're perfect are you?”
Ianto made an unimpressed sound. “Yes, I spoiled him a little. For his birthday. He's crying for attention because I laid down the law earlier.”
Rhys raised an eyebrow that urged Ianto to continue.
Ianto sighed. “He was misbehaving, he made us late, then he made us double back twice for things he'd forgotten. I wasn't going back a third time so I told him 'no'.”
Giacomo sniffed. “I drawed you a picture and he wouldn't let me fetch it!”
“You should have made sure you didn't forget it then! Lesson learned!”
Giacomo howled louder, and Rhys cuddled him comfortingly. “You can bring it next time, okay?”
“But I wanted to bring it today!”
“Why don't you draw me another one while you're here, yeah?”
Ianto snorted. “I don't think he should be allowed his colours. He's been naughty.”
“Well,” sighed Rhys. “he's in my house. My rules.”
“Legally my child. My rules. Don't you dare try and undermine my rules.”
It hadn't sounded quite so bitchy in Ianto's head, but it was out in the world now. Now there was no going back, so he steeled his resolve, hands on hips and firmly bit his tongue.
Rhys glowered at him. “You are such a bastard sometimes, you know that?”
“I want what's best for him. If I have to be cruel to be kind, so be it. Oh – and please don't swear in front of him. He's six.”
“It's not me that forgets he's only a child, with a child's mind,” countered Rhys.
“A child's mind,” agreed Ianto. “not a baby's. So stop treating him like one.”
They stared each other down, the tension sizzling and Giacomo reduced to sniffling quietly, fast coming to the conclusion that this was all his fault.
Rhys' nostrils flared. “Fine,” he snapped.
Ianto inclined his head in acknowledgement, then turned his attention to Little Jack. “Giacomo, give me your pencils and your pad, please.”
Sullenly, Giacomo raised the bag, unable to look Ianto in the eye and staring at the floor. “I hate you,” he muttered.
Ianto snatched the bag from him. “Yeah? Well sometimes the feeling's mutual.”
He slammed the door behind him on the way out, then banged his head on the wall on the opposite side of the corridor.
“Should not have said that, should not have said that, should not have said that ….” he repeated to himself, punctuating the gap in the phrase with the pain of the wall on his forehead. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Should not have said that. Poor kid; should not have said that. Just hope to God he doesn't know what 'mutual' means … or that Rhys doesn't explain it to him. Fuck. Should not have said that ….”
After a minute or so, he steeled himself to go back in, just as he heard the bolt and chain slide home on the other side. Even if he did want to try and apologise, he wasn't welcome.
He needed to calm down.
He was stressed, he was scared and he was frustrated. The move, losing everything and listening to Jack shouting at deaf politicians had completely taken it out of him, and Giacomo had touched one nerve too many and hit a trigger.
Ianto wished he was normal; that he could deal with feelings and stuff like that instead of bottling up and then exploding in the wrong direction.
At Giacomo.
He realised he'd been procrastinating in the corridor for about five minutes, so tore himself away from the wall and began to make his way back up to his flat.
Jack was where he left him.
Not a finger had been lifted.
Brilliant.
“JACK!”
Jack jumped and squinted in the light. “Whuh?”
“Why are you up?”
“'Avin' lie in,” he groaned, his head dropping back onto the pillow.
“I told you to get up! I asked you to pack!”
“No – you said if I get up. And I didn't.”
Ianto's fists curled into balls, his nails digging into his palm. “You didn't think to take a hint?”
“You said if!” Jack argued.
Making an outraged sound, Ianto ripped the duvet off the bed. Jack instantly curled in on himself, protecting himself from the sudden cold.
“UP!”
Jack glared at him. “Get lost!”
“We need to pack!”
“We don't leave until the day after tomorrow!”
“You have collected a lot of crap over the years that no doubt you will insist we take with us!”
“It's not crap! It's memories.”
“Whatever. Here's the ultimatum: anything of yours you don't pack yourself isn't going.”
“What happened to 'I'll supervise the packing to make sure it's neat and no space is wasted'?”
Ianto visibly sagged, and put his head in his hands. “I hate myself.”
Jack sat up, tugging his wrists and curling a finger under his chin. “Wanna talk about it?”
The corners of Ianto's mouth pulled, until he couldn't help but smile, then laugh – then yelp as Jack roughly pulled him down onto the bed.
“Ohhh no, not now ….” he groaned. “Really, Jack – not in the mood.”
Jack pinned him down, kissing at his neck. “You're all tense … I can help with that ….”
“I don't want help,” Ianto growled, trying to shove him off. “Jack!”
“C'mon … I'll fuck you straight through this mattress …..”
“No! I don't have time.”
Jack sighed heavily, as if he'd been hard done by, and flopped down onto the bed. “Fine,” he grumbled. “if you're going to be all grumpy …”
“I'm stressed!” Ianto practically shouted, getting up off the bed and whirling around to face him. Jack turned onto his side and propped his head up on his hand.
“You don't have to be,” he pouted.
“Oh, really?”
“Really! Just … come here, lie down … I'll take care of you ….”
Ianto's fists curled into tight balls again, his nails digging into his palms. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and feeling the tension slip away with it. “Right,” he said decisively. “You have ten minutes to be up and dressed and in the living room ready to help. Or else.”
“Or else what?” challenged Jack, indignant.
Ianto saw red.
“Or else this!!” he yelled and grabbed the nearest object to him from the chest of drawers. It flew across the room and collided with the wall, shattering into a thousand pieces. It had been an ornate photograph frame containing a wedding picture from just over eighty years ago – the photo remained undamaged, but the frame was beyond help.
Jack was staring at Ianto in shock, and Ianto was staring at the mess. Normally, he hated making mess … but hurling that frame across the room and seeing it shatter had felt so good … The gap between him throwing the frame and blindly reaching for the next was no more than two seconds.
“Ianto! NO!” Jack was shouting, ducking out of the way of a stone statuette of an Arcadian dignitary given to him by a Royal from that planet as it flew close to his ear. The puzzle box he'd bought for Ianto himself soon followed it, and a glass box given to him by one of his children – her name had been Leah - was about to fly.
Jack froze, staring at Ianto's hand, all thoughts of stopping him vanquished and replaced with, 'I have to catch it …'
The wild glaze over Ianto's eyes seemed to finally dissipate, the weight of the glass box in his hand seemingly wrenching him back to New Earth. He stared at it in shock, before carefully setting it down as if it had burned him. He sank down to the floor, pressed into the corner made by the drawers and the wall, his eyes glassy as he shut down on himself.
Jack was instantly at his side, cuddling him close. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry …. I'm sorry …”
“S'not your fault,” Ianto intoned. “I'm just turning to my Da, is all. Bound to happen sooner or later.”
Jack was quiet a moment. “You've never spoken of your father.”
Ianto scrubbed his face with his hands. “What have I done, Jack?”
“Don't worry about it – that statue did more damage to the wall; that frame was god-awful and chosen by Flo and you were never getting that puzzle box open,” he grinned reassuringly.
“I meant … I meant Giacomo,” Ianto clarified, his voice small. “What have I done?”
Jack frowned, and Ianto explained about Little Jack's behaviour that morning, the way he had spoken to Rhys and then Giacomo telling him that he hated him. “... and then I said, 'Well, the sometimes the feeling's mutual,' and stormed out.”
The Captain let out a breath, and Ianto bit his lip. Jack squeezed him tight, pulling him closer and tucking Ianto's head under his chin. “Y'know what?” he sighed.
“What?” asked Ianto dully.
“Even you can't get it right all the time, let alone first time. You haven't screwed up as royally as you think – sure, you really, really, really shouldn't have said that. It's one thing Giacomo, but I doubt in a billion years he'd expect you to say it back. It will have shocked him into maybe trying to please you, into maybe behaving better. But you need to make sure that the second you see him, you give him a big hug, and big kiss and a million and one reasons why you love him. As for Rhys … maybe you could have a proper Girls' Night In?”
Ianto let out something that sounded like it could have been a laugh, but could have been a whimper.
“Kids forget quickly,” the Captain reassured him.
Ianto laughed weakly. “They don't, Jack. Believe me, they don't.”
Jack tipped his head back and let out a long breath, the back of his head resting on the wall. “You need to relax,” he said eventually. “Right now – and I'm not taking 'no' or 'I don't have time' for an answer. If there's anything my Ianto Jones is good at, it's making time appear out of nowhere.”
Given his outbursts today, Ianto couldn't disagree. He nodded silently, and allowed Jack to pull him up by his hand.
“Clothes off,” Jack instructed. “I'll fetch the massage oils.”
Resignedly, Ianto took off his clothes and hung them appropriately. The duvet was still in a heap from when he'd ripped it off Jack earlier, and he was just making the bed when Jack returned with the basket full of scented candles and oils.
“Put the duvet on the bed and lie in the middle of it while I get these ready,” he said, setting the basked down and taking out some scented tea lights and lighting them, leaving three on either bedside table.
Naked, Ianto lay in the middle of the bed, and Jack started bunching up the duvet around him like a nest. It was strange, but it made him feel even more comfortable and … cared for? Safe? He turned onto his front on Jack's instruction, and Ianto felt a little disappointed he was no longer allowed to see his still-naked Captain wandering around.
The lights dimmed low, and Ianto rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes as warm oil dripped into a pool at the small of his back.
“I don't do this for just anyone,” Jack muttered by his ear. “But I love you, so you're worth it.”
Ianto smiled, his eyes still closed. “Teach me how to return the favour.”
“Learn to top by being a bottom,” Jack replied playfully, and dragged his finger through the oil at the base of Ianto's spine up to the middle of his shoulder blades. “You just relax and enjoy yourself,” he said. “Don't be embarrassed if you come.”
Ianto shivered in anticipation. He'd only thought was getting a massage.
Slowly, Jack worked on covering Ianto's back and shoulders with the warm oil until he glistened, then began to work lower until his buttocks, his thighs and calves were sparkling with the oil. It warmed Ianto's skin pleasantly, and already any worries about time constraints were melting away to nothing.
Jack's fingers ghosted over his left buttock, running from the peak of the curve all the way to the back of Ianto's neck. Ianto shivered pleasantly, feeling the mattress dip as Jack knelt beside him and leaned his weight onto his hands, lifting his leg over Ianto to straddle his thighs.
Gently, he began to massage the shoulder area, his strong hands sure and efficient. He applied more pressure as the knots began to loosen, then began to move lower, his hands exploring the planes of Ianto's back while exerting enough pressure to relieve the muscle underneath. He placed his fingers in very particular places on Ianto's spine, and whispered, 'take a deep breath in, then let it out slowly …”
He did, and on the outward breath his entire spine seemed to crack loudly and realign itself. Already he felt like a totally different person, as if his back could never feel the weight of anything again.
“Tha' wuz good …” he mumbled, and Jack chuckled, beginning his massaged again, working out knots and reducing Ianto to goo beneath him.
There was something in the oil, Ianto decided, that made every single touch of Jack's fingers one hundred per cent erotic. He was trapped between Jack, his own body and the bed beneath, but he knew he didn't even need to touch himself to enjoy every second of pleasure Jack was currently giving him. He was completely and utterly relaxed, unable to move for the comfort, and the only time he'd ever been able to feel this content and turned on at the same time was when he and Jack had finally opened their wedding gift from Rhys and played with the gel all night.
Thinking of Rhys marred the moment, and then thinking of their no longer legal ceremony completely ruined it.
“Jack …” Ianto croaked. “Jack …”
Jack leaned forward so that his chest was pressed into Ianto's back and his erection lay on the base of his spine. “Whatever it is, right now, in this moment, it doesn't exist.”
“But-”
“It. Doesn't. Exist.”
Ianto stayed quiet, so Jack knelt back up again and upped the ante, determined to make Ianto forget whatever it was – if only for a short amount of time. He changed his position, so that he was straddling Ianto's waist and facing his feet, and began work on his ankles, then calves, one at a time. He took extra time on his thighs, allowing his hand to slip over the most sensitive inner flesh, feeling the reaction of the outer muscle to the inner muscles clenching in anticipation. Jack kneaded Ianto's buttocks, feeling him subconsciously and minutely pushing up into his hands, before holding him apart and running a finger from perineum to spine. The oil sensitised his opening, and he tensed ever so slightly before relaxing back into the sensation.
Jack turned so that he was facing back towards Ianto's head and leaned forward again, combing his fingers through Ianto's hair, softly kissing his temple, moving down to this cheek and jawline, nuzzling lower into his neck. Ianto made a soft noise, not quite a whimper but not distinct enough to be a moan. Jack laughed softly, raising himself until the naked skin of his chest only ghosted over Ianto's back, increasing his hyper-awareness of him. Ianto attempted to open his eyes and twist around to kiss Jack's mouth, only to realise that moving wasn't as appealing as he had thought. He gave in and let his eyes flutter shut again, attempted saying something and only managing a quiet and incoherent mumble as Jack's finger slipped inside him. Jack was still leaning down over him, lowering his lips to the skin on the back of Ianto's shoulder as he moved his finger in and out.
“Control your breathing … keep it steady,” he murmured. “Breathe deep. Relax.”
Pushing his finger in deeper, he found Ianto's prostate and pressed against it with a tiny amount of pressure, resting one hand in between his shoulder blades as he pulled his finger out and pushed it back in again, aiming for the spot.
“Mmf,” Ianto managed, his only method of communication becoming monosyllabic grunts.
On the edge of his awareness, he knew Jack was moving lower on the bed, and he made a disappointed sound as the finger inside him was taken away. It was, however, almost immediately replaced with a gentle, hot, wet tongue that did the job just as well, he decided.
He could feel it tracing the edges of his opening, pressing in a little way and twisting out, before being pressed flat and dragged over.
“Jaaauuuhmff,” Ianto assessed, trying to keep his breathing under control.
He felt his Captain's hands work their way under his shoulders, lifting him to turn him onto his back. There was very little he could do to help, so Ianto settled on doing nothing instead. His muscles were too jelly-fied to do anything at that moment.
Jack didn't seem to mind – he probably pre-empted it – and gently turned him and repositioned him, putting a pillow behind his head and pulling his legs wide so that he could lie between them. He leaned down and kissed Ianto on the mouth, unsurprisingly finding very little resistance when his tongue begged entrance inside or receiving nothing but the laziest of responses.
Taking a spot more oil, Jack began to massage it into Ianto's nipples, listening to the soft noises from his throat as the oil sensitised and the massage pleasured. He could feel Ianto, hard beneath him and making lazed attempts at controlling his breathing, and kissed him again, rocking his hips slightly and pinching the nipples before rubbing them to soothe. Ianto managed to grunt, and thought about raising his hand to touch Jack's arm, but it wasn't going to happen.
Ianto's whole body was tingling pleasantly, and he was becoming and more and more aware of every single movement Jack made. It still came as a bit of a surprise, however, when he felt Jack knelt over him, a hand reaching back to grab Ianto's erection and line him up before sinking down so beautifully slowly.
Ianto started panting, and Jack had to work through a haze to calm him down and make him attempt to take deep breaths. The fire was coming back to Ianto's body now, and he could feel himself waking up, feel himself trying to move and buck. Jack held him down firmly by the shoulders, and when the moment passed started massaging his upper arms and chest, while slowly clenching and relaxing his inner muscles around Ianto's cock. He ran his hands from stomach to collarbone, coaxing Ianto back into his calm state.
Leaning down, Jack kissed Ianto gently, just pressing their mouths together, before slowly slipping in his tongue and lazily making out, moving his hands back to Ianto's nipples and squeezing Ianto's erection inside him.
Ianto's orgasm was more like sinking into a hot bath than falling over the edge, blanketing him completely until he could feel nothing but the numbing pleasure singing through his veins, basic needs like the requirement of oxygen neglected as his brain was distracted and forgot he really should be breathing.
Too soon, Ianto returned to himself, his breath finally coming back and his body tingling in his afterglow. He opened his eyes, finding Jack kneeling, straddling his shoulders. Ianto parted his lips in invitation, and Jack gratefully slipped his cock into his mouth, not breaking eye contact as he slowly thrust in and out, one hand on the mattress to support himself and the other gently tangled in Ianto's hair. In ten thrusts he was spent, and Ianto swallowed as Jack collapsed onto the mattress beside him, gathering Ianto up and squeezing him tight.
“Feel better?” Jack muttered, kissing his nose.
“Mmmfffmmuch.”
“I,” Jack announced. “am going to go and start packing my things. I'm going to do it neatly, keeping mindful of space saving, and I promise not to touch anything belonging to you.” He got out of bed, folding the duvet over Ianto to keep him warm and cosy without the palaver of getting him underneath it and left him doze while opening his side of the wardrobe and getting his suitcase ready.
~*~*~*~
Ianto hadn't slept so well for a long time, and was loath to get up. But there were agitated voices carrying in from the living room, and he had to. With great effort he dragged himself from the warmth and comfort of his bed, pulled on his suit and shirt and buttoning up his waistcoat as he poked his head around the door.
Ahhh great. That lawyer was back. Mr. Grant Poole, representing the Commonwealth and being very smug and condescending about it.
At the moment, he was having the calmer side of an argument with Jack, and Ianto's eyes were still squinting tiredly in the light when he cleared his throat to announce his presence.
“Go back in our room, Ianto,” Jack practically ordered him.
“But,” countered Mr. Poole. “I need to speak with him. Alone.”
Jack glared. “I told you that wasn't going to happen! Not until we get legal representation of our own to sit in on the meeting.”
“I just want to interview Mr. Jones – ask a few basic questions. It shouldn't take five minutes.”
Ianto sighed. “Jack, go up to your office.”
Jack looked like he was going to pout, before snapping his mouth shut and storming into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
“Mr. Poole,” Ianto acknowledged.
“Ah – good to see your memory is in good working order. Might we sit?”
“Generally in someone else's house, you wait for the host to offer you a seat – but do so anyway,” Ianto replied coolly. “So – you need to ask me some questions?” he said, sitting down on the other end of the couch, perching on the end. Mr. Poole had the appearance of a window salesman settling himself in for the big pitch, relaxing and reclining into the sofa and crossing one leg over the other.
“Just a few questions to give me an idea of how well you know Mr. Harkness.”
“Captain Harkness.”
Mr. Poole sighed. “I know this is difficult for you, Mr. Jones, but please appreciate I am just doing my job. Animosity will not help your case, I assure you.”
“It's hardly my fault you do not know my partner's name,” Ianto pointed out. “But I shall try to be civil. Please appreciate that I am just defending myself and my marriage against unnecessary interference and inappropriate scrutiny.”
Mr. Poole sighed again, heavier. “I just need to ask a few questions.”
“Go ahead,” prompted Ianto.
“What is Captain Harkness' favourite colour?” he asked, producing an electronic notepad and holding the stylus ready.
“Blue,” Ianto replied, a little confused. Was this it? This would be easy.
“What is his favourite food?”
“Doughnuts.”
“I mean … to eat for a meal.”
“Doughnuts,” Ianto repeated.
“His favourite treat?”
“Erm … that's rather personal … something to keep private,” Ianto said, shifting uncomfortably.
“I mean … to eat or drink?”
“Still personal and private.”
“Hm. How about … favourite pastime?”
“Personal and private.”
“Mm.”
Mr. Poole made a note, then cleared his throat. “What is the Captain's favourite fruit?”
“Depends what time of year it is.”
“Oh?”
“Apples in summer, oranges in winter.”
“What was his mother's name?”
Ah. Shit. Jack had never actually told him – so he said the first name that came to mind, “Alice.”
“And where was he born?”
“At … home?”
“What are his political allegiances?”
“Floating voter.”
“His first memory?”
That one stumped Ianto for a second. How was he really supposed to know that? He wondered if he would get points for coming clean … so tried it. “I don't know that one.”
“Hmm. I see. Okay; what is his favourite book?”
Ianto snorted. “Jack doesn't really read.”
“But if you had to take a guess?”
“Erm … 'Where's Wally?'?”
Mr. Poole carried on for another few minutes, until he seemingly had all he desperately needed to know. Ianto got up to show him upstairs to the door, and part way through it, Mr. Poole hesitated.
“Just one more thing … you've been together a year now, yes?”
“I … yes.”
“Still all … sunshine and roses?”
Ianto raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding?”
“Not so much, then?”
Ianto took in a deep breath, that he let out slowly. “It's not bad. It's working – I've never been so happy. But … I've never been so … well, depressed, either. I love him so much I hate him. I … hope … does that make sense to you?”
“Maybe,” shrugged Mr. Poole. “Anyway – I shall get back to you soon enough, Mr. Jones. Send my regards to your Captain, and I hope you both keep well.”
With that, Mr. Poole began to make his way down the corridor.
Ianto closed the door slowly, and rested his forehead on the wood. He couldn't quite believe he'd just told the lawyer who's job it was to split them up that he hated Jack. Fuck.
Pushing it to the back of his mind, deciding to face the consequences when the consequences came knocking, he made his way back to the bedroom trying to school his features into not looking worried. He found Jack crouched by the mess of broken glass and splintered wood that had been the photograph frame and puzzle box that Ianto had hurled against the wall earlier, cleaning up the mess. On the bed was a wrapped gift and the wedding photo.
For Ianto Jones, 21st Century Man, read the label on the gift, and Ianto picked up the smallish cube. “Can I open it?” he asked, and Jack glanced up from where he was crouched, smiled and nodded.
“It's yours.”
Ianto smiled weakly. “Thanks for clearing that up,” he said, his voice quiet and nodding to the mess on the carpet.
Jack shrugged. “Gotta do my bit. Did you approve of my packing?”
“I didn't get a chance to inspect it,” sighed Ianto, pulling at the ribbon and tag of his gift box. The paper was flame red with a gold bow, and it came off with the ribbon to reveal a velveteen wristwatch box. Carefully, Ianto snapped up the lid, and frowned inside.
The box contained a glass cube, and inside the glass cube was … soil.
“It's … I love it,” Ianto announced, sounding more convincing than he thought he might. He lifted the cube out of the box, then paused when he saw that it was actually on a labelled base. It was old and worn, the words barely readable: Cardiff, 21st Century.
Ianto stared at it.
… and stared at it.
He tried telling himself it was just soil, but … really … so much more than that ….
“Where did you … where did you get this?”
Jack was grinning from ear to ear. “Have you any idea how long I've been waiting to see your face?”
Ianto could probably imagine the shock and disbelief written on his features as he sat on his bed in the year six-billion-two-hundred-and-thirteen-thousand-and-sixty-three holding a piece of the twenty-first century – a piece of home - in his hands.
Carefully, he placed the cube on the bedside table.
“I think,” he said. “you need to put that dust pan and brush away and come back to bed.”
Jack grinned wider. “Only if you promise to dominate and control me in ways I've never before experienced at your hands.”
Ianto raised an eyebrow. “What are you still dressed for?”
The dust pan and brush barely had time to clatter to the floor.
Who put the 'Glad' in 'Gladiator'?
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Chapter: 22 | ??
Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones
Author:
a_silver_storyGenre Alternate Universe, Romance
Rating: NC-17 just to be safe.
Warnings: A bit of angst, and some tentacles and d/c in the future.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know.
Summary: Ianto finds himself heartbroken and alone, but eventually learns that no matter what point in Captain Jack Harkness' life he finds himself, they will always fall in love.
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Another Life
Another Life XXII
“I'm taking Giacomo to Rhys' for a bit!” he called through to the bedroom, where Captain Jack hadn't budged since he'd been thrown in there (by an overly amorous Ianto) the night before. “If you do plan on getting up, see if you can get at least a bit of packing done, yeah?”
There was a muffled reply – probably Jack drowning himself in the duvet while trying to communicate – and Ianto decided it was some form of affirmative. He rolled his eyes to no one in particular and crouched down to help Giacomo with the buttons of his Captain Coat, as he called it. It didn't help that he didn't seem that interested in pausing colouring while Ianto got him ready for Rhys, and Ianto was getting more and more stressed the less and less co-operative Giacomo was becoming. Every scratch of the coloured pencil was driving him closer to snatching them all away and snapping them.
“Are we going to Rhys' or not?” he eventually asked, his tone short and clipped.
“Yeah! I just wanna finish this bit first.”
“I told you to be ready by eleven 'o' clock. It's ten past! We're already late.”
“Rhys won't mind,” Giacomo reasoned.
“I mind,” Ianto muttered. “Come on – put those away.”
“I wanna take them!”
“Then put them away, put them in a bag and then carry the bag to Rhys' flat! Now come on, Giacomo! I have lots to do today and you're slowing everything down.”
Giacomo scowled at him and folded his arms. “Well, I'm sorry, Daddy – but you can't rush art!”
Ianto tried not to laugh.
He really did.
Another ten minutes of fuss and a very sulky Giacomo later, they were ready to go. They were halfway down the corridor leading from Jack's office to the stairs when Giacomo changed his mind about not taking Shirley, and they doubled back to go and fetch her. Three quarters of the way down their second attempt at the corridor, Giacomo realised he'd left his bag of crayons and pad of paper when he'd gone to get his hamster-dog, so they went back for that as well. Their feet touched the top of the stairs just as Giacomo then recalled he'd forgotten a drawing he'd done for Rhys that he desperately had to give him this time they went to visit and no other.
Ianto drew a line, and he told Giacomo in no uncertain terms that they were forty minutes late and they were not doubling back again.
So Giacomo started crying.
Folding his arms, Ianto slumped against the wall and sighed in exasperation. When Giacomo behaved, it was fine – but he could be an awkward, naughty little bugger at times. Ianto was at a loss with what to do with him when he misbehaved, really. He was learning to tell the difference between Giacomo's genuine mistakes and when he was just being annoying. Similarly to parents, Giacomo worked a punishment and reward system, and right now Ianto had the feeling he was being punished with Giacomo's bad behaviour. He wasn't sure what for yet, but it would undoubtedly become apparent.
He rolled his eyes.
“Fine – you stay here and pack. I'm going to Rhys' with or without you. To be honest, in this mood I'd be much happier to go without.”
He ignored Little Jack's cries and turned on his heel, making his way down the first flight of stairs before hearing Giacomo's sobs slowing to a sniffle and little feet shuffling to catch up with him.
They walked the way to Rhys' flat in cold silence, which wasn't helped by the distinct lack of presence from the five hundred people who had already been packed away and moved on. The entire building had been deathly quiet for three days, and a resigned atmosphere had settled into the place.
Finally Ianto pushed open Rhys' front door and called a quick 'hello?' inside before making his way to the living room. Rhys was sat on the couch with a cup of tea, and grinned when they walked in.
“Bit late?”
“Mm,” Ianto replied despondently. “Take him, he yours,” he grumbled, giving Giacomo a gentle shove towards the couch.
Rhys raised his eyebrows. “What's up?”
“He's been an awkward and cheeky little bugger all morning. If you wanna run away and keep him, now's your chance.”
Giacomo had the sense to look guilty, cuddling Shirley close as she licked at his chin.
“Ugh – don't let the dog lick your face, Giacomo,” Ianto grimaced.
“She's giving me a kiss!” Giacomo scowled.
“She has no concept of kissing, Giacomo. She's tasting your face, and it's not hygienic.”
So Giacomo started crying again.
Rhys moved closer and put an arm around him. “Hey, shush now. It's okay, it's okay ….”
Ianto folded his arms defensively. “You're worse than the Captain. You know that?” he snapped at Rhys.
“Excuse me?”
“Mollycoddling him all the time. You let him play you and it's painful to watch!”
“Oh – and you're perfect are you?”
Ianto made an unimpressed sound. “Yes, I spoiled him a little. For his birthday. He's crying for attention because I laid down the law earlier.”
Rhys raised an eyebrow that urged Ianto to continue.
Ianto sighed. “He was misbehaving, he made us late, then he made us double back twice for things he'd forgotten. I wasn't going back a third time so I told him 'no'.”
Giacomo sniffed. “I drawed you a picture and he wouldn't let me fetch it!”
“You should have made sure you didn't forget it then! Lesson learned!”
Giacomo howled louder, and Rhys cuddled him comfortingly. “You can bring it next time, okay?”
“But I wanted to bring it today!”
“Why don't you draw me another one while you're here, yeah?”
Ianto snorted. “I don't think he should be allowed his colours. He's been naughty.”
“Well,” sighed Rhys. “he's in my house. My rules.”
“Legally my child. My rules. Don't you dare try and undermine my rules.”
It hadn't sounded quite so bitchy in Ianto's head, but it was out in the world now. Now there was no going back, so he steeled his resolve, hands on hips and firmly bit his tongue.
Rhys glowered at him. “You are such a bastard sometimes, you know that?”
“I want what's best for him. If I have to be cruel to be kind, so be it. Oh – and please don't swear in front of him. He's six.”
“It's not me that forgets he's only a child, with a child's mind,” countered Rhys.
“A child's mind,” agreed Ianto. “not a baby's. So stop treating him like one.”
They stared each other down, the tension sizzling and Giacomo reduced to sniffling quietly, fast coming to the conclusion that this was all his fault.
Rhys' nostrils flared. “Fine,” he snapped.
Ianto inclined his head in acknowledgement, then turned his attention to Little Jack. “Giacomo, give me your pencils and your pad, please.”
Sullenly, Giacomo raised the bag, unable to look Ianto in the eye and staring at the floor. “I hate you,” he muttered.
Ianto snatched the bag from him. “Yeah? Well sometimes the feeling's mutual.”
He slammed the door behind him on the way out, then banged his head on the wall on the opposite side of the corridor.
“Should not have said that, should not have said that, should not have said that ….” he repeated to himself, punctuating the gap in the phrase with the pain of the wall on his forehead. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Should not have said that. Poor kid; should not have said that. Just hope to God he doesn't know what 'mutual' means … or that Rhys doesn't explain it to him. Fuck. Should not have said that ….”
After a minute or so, he steeled himself to go back in, just as he heard the bolt and chain slide home on the other side. Even if he did want to try and apologise, he wasn't welcome.
He needed to calm down.
He was stressed, he was scared and he was frustrated. The move, losing everything and listening to Jack shouting at deaf politicians had completely taken it out of him, and Giacomo had touched one nerve too many and hit a trigger.
Ianto wished he was normal; that he could deal with feelings and stuff like that instead of bottling up and then exploding in the wrong direction.
At Giacomo.
He realised he'd been procrastinating in the corridor for about five minutes, so tore himself away from the wall and began to make his way back up to his flat.
Jack was where he left him.
Not a finger had been lifted.
Brilliant.
“JACK!”
Jack jumped and squinted in the light. “Whuh?”
“Why are you up?”
“'Avin' lie in,” he groaned, his head dropping back onto the pillow.
“I told you to get up! I asked you to pack!”
“No – you said if I get up. And I didn't.”
Ianto's fists curled into balls, his nails digging into his palm. “You didn't think to take a hint?”
“You said if!” Jack argued.
Making an outraged sound, Ianto ripped the duvet off the bed. Jack instantly curled in on himself, protecting himself from the sudden cold.
“UP!”
Jack glared at him. “Get lost!”
“We need to pack!”
“We don't leave until the day after tomorrow!”
“You have collected a lot of crap over the years that no doubt you will insist we take with us!”
“It's not crap! It's memories.”
“Whatever. Here's the ultimatum: anything of yours you don't pack yourself isn't going.”
“What happened to 'I'll supervise the packing to make sure it's neat and no space is wasted'?”
Ianto visibly sagged, and put his head in his hands. “I hate myself.”
Jack sat up, tugging his wrists and curling a finger under his chin. “Wanna talk about it?”
The corners of Ianto's mouth pulled, until he couldn't help but smile, then laugh – then yelp as Jack roughly pulled him down onto the bed.
“Ohhh no, not now ….” he groaned. “Really, Jack – not in the mood.”
Jack pinned him down, kissing at his neck. “You're all tense … I can help with that ….”
“I don't want help,” Ianto growled, trying to shove him off. “Jack!”
“C'mon … I'll fuck you straight through this mattress …..”
“No! I don't have time.”
Jack sighed heavily, as if he'd been hard done by, and flopped down onto the bed. “Fine,” he grumbled. “if you're going to be all grumpy …”
“I'm stressed!” Ianto practically shouted, getting up off the bed and whirling around to face him. Jack turned onto his side and propped his head up on his hand.
“You don't have to be,” he pouted.
“Oh, really?”
“Really! Just … come here, lie down … I'll take care of you ….”
Ianto's fists curled into tight balls again, his nails digging into his palms. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and feeling the tension slip away with it. “Right,” he said decisively. “You have ten minutes to be up and dressed and in the living room ready to help. Or else.”
“Or else what?” challenged Jack, indignant.
Ianto saw red.
“Or else this!!” he yelled and grabbed the nearest object to him from the chest of drawers. It flew across the room and collided with the wall, shattering into a thousand pieces. It had been an ornate photograph frame containing a wedding picture from just over eighty years ago – the photo remained undamaged, but the frame was beyond help.
Jack was staring at Ianto in shock, and Ianto was staring at the mess. Normally, he hated making mess … but hurling that frame across the room and seeing it shatter had felt so good … The gap between him throwing the frame and blindly reaching for the next was no more than two seconds.
“Ianto! NO!” Jack was shouting, ducking out of the way of a stone statuette of an Arcadian dignitary given to him by a Royal from that planet as it flew close to his ear. The puzzle box he'd bought for Ianto himself soon followed it, and a glass box given to him by one of his children – her name had been Leah - was about to fly.
Jack froze, staring at Ianto's hand, all thoughts of stopping him vanquished and replaced with, 'I have to catch it …'
The wild glaze over Ianto's eyes seemed to finally dissipate, the weight of the glass box in his hand seemingly wrenching him back to New Earth. He stared at it in shock, before carefully setting it down as if it had burned him. He sank down to the floor, pressed into the corner made by the drawers and the wall, his eyes glassy as he shut down on himself.
Jack was instantly at his side, cuddling him close. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry …. I'm sorry …”
“S'not your fault,” Ianto intoned. “I'm just turning to my Da, is all. Bound to happen sooner or later.”
Jack was quiet a moment. “You've never spoken of your father.”
Ianto scrubbed his face with his hands. “What have I done, Jack?”
“Don't worry about it – that statue did more damage to the wall; that frame was god-awful and chosen by Flo and you were never getting that puzzle box open,” he grinned reassuringly.
“I meant … I meant Giacomo,” Ianto clarified, his voice small. “What have I done?”
Jack frowned, and Ianto explained about Little Jack's behaviour that morning, the way he had spoken to Rhys and then Giacomo telling him that he hated him. “... and then I said, 'Well, the sometimes the feeling's mutual,' and stormed out.”
The Captain let out a breath, and Ianto bit his lip. Jack squeezed him tight, pulling him closer and tucking Ianto's head under his chin. “Y'know what?” he sighed.
“What?” asked Ianto dully.
“Even you can't get it right all the time, let alone first time. You haven't screwed up as royally as you think – sure, you really, really, really shouldn't have said that. It's one thing Giacomo, but I doubt in a billion years he'd expect you to say it back. It will have shocked him into maybe trying to please you, into maybe behaving better. But you need to make sure that the second you see him, you give him a big hug, and big kiss and a million and one reasons why you love him. As for Rhys … maybe you could have a proper Girls' Night In?”
Ianto let out something that sounded like it could have been a laugh, but could have been a whimper.
“Kids forget quickly,” the Captain reassured him.
Ianto laughed weakly. “They don't, Jack. Believe me, they don't.”
Jack tipped his head back and let out a long breath, the back of his head resting on the wall. “You need to relax,” he said eventually. “Right now – and I'm not taking 'no' or 'I don't have time' for an answer. If there's anything my Ianto Jones is good at, it's making time appear out of nowhere.”
Given his outbursts today, Ianto couldn't disagree. He nodded silently, and allowed Jack to pull him up by his hand.
“Clothes off,” Jack instructed. “I'll fetch the massage oils.”
Resignedly, Ianto took off his clothes and hung them appropriately. The duvet was still in a heap from when he'd ripped it off Jack earlier, and he was just making the bed when Jack returned with the basket full of scented candles and oils.
“Put the duvet on the bed and lie in the middle of it while I get these ready,” he said, setting the basked down and taking out some scented tea lights and lighting them, leaving three on either bedside table.
Naked, Ianto lay in the middle of the bed, and Jack started bunching up the duvet around him like a nest. It was strange, but it made him feel even more comfortable and … cared for? Safe? He turned onto his front on Jack's instruction, and Ianto felt a little disappointed he was no longer allowed to see his still-naked Captain wandering around.
The lights dimmed low, and Ianto rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes as warm oil dripped into a pool at the small of his back.
“I don't do this for just anyone,” Jack muttered by his ear. “But I love you, so you're worth it.”
Ianto smiled, his eyes still closed. “Teach me how to return the favour.”
“Learn to top by being a bottom,” Jack replied playfully, and dragged his finger through the oil at the base of Ianto's spine up to the middle of his shoulder blades. “You just relax and enjoy yourself,” he said. “Don't be embarrassed if you come.”
Ianto shivered in anticipation. He'd only thought was getting a massage.
Slowly, Jack worked on covering Ianto's back and shoulders with the warm oil until he glistened, then began to work lower until his buttocks, his thighs and calves were sparkling with the oil. It warmed Ianto's skin pleasantly, and already any worries about time constraints were melting away to nothing.
Jack's fingers ghosted over his left buttock, running from the peak of the curve all the way to the back of Ianto's neck. Ianto shivered pleasantly, feeling the mattress dip as Jack knelt beside him and leaned his weight onto his hands, lifting his leg over Ianto to straddle his thighs.
Gently, he began to massage the shoulder area, his strong hands sure and efficient. He applied more pressure as the knots began to loosen, then began to move lower, his hands exploring the planes of Ianto's back while exerting enough pressure to relieve the muscle underneath. He placed his fingers in very particular places on Ianto's spine, and whispered, 'take a deep breath in, then let it out slowly …”
He did, and on the outward breath his entire spine seemed to crack loudly and realign itself. Already he felt like a totally different person, as if his back could never feel the weight of anything again.
“Tha' wuz good …” he mumbled, and Jack chuckled, beginning his massaged again, working out knots and reducing Ianto to goo beneath him.
There was something in the oil, Ianto decided, that made every single touch of Jack's fingers one hundred per cent erotic. He was trapped between Jack, his own body and the bed beneath, but he knew he didn't even need to touch himself to enjoy every second of pleasure Jack was currently giving him. He was completely and utterly relaxed, unable to move for the comfort, and the only time he'd ever been able to feel this content and turned on at the same time was when he and Jack had finally opened their wedding gift from Rhys and played with the gel all night.
Thinking of Rhys marred the moment, and then thinking of their no longer legal ceremony completely ruined it.
“Jack …” Ianto croaked. “Jack …”
Jack leaned forward so that his chest was pressed into Ianto's back and his erection lay on the base of his spine. “Whatever it is, right now, in this moment, it doesn't exist.”
“But-”
“It. Doesn't. Exist.”
Ianto stayed quiet, so Jack knelt back up again and upped the ante, determined to make Ianto forget whatever it was – if only for a short amount of time. He changed his position, so that he was straddling Ianto's waist and facing his feet, and began work on his ankles, then calves, one at a time. He took extra time on his thighs, allowing his hand to slip over the most sensitive inner flesh, feeling the reaction of the outer muscle to the inner muscles clenching in anticipation. Jack kneaded Ianto's buttocks, feeling him subconsciously and minutely pushing up into his hands, before holding him apart and running a finger from perineum to spine. The oil sensitised his opening, and he tensed ever so slightly before relaxing back into the sensation.
Jack turned so that he was facing back towards Ianto's head and leaned forward again, combing his fingers through Ianto's hair, softly kissing his temple, moving down to this cheek and jawline, nuzzling lower into his neck. Ianto made a soft noise, not quite a whimper but not distinct enough to be a moan. Jack laughed softly, raising himself until the naked skin of his chest only ghosted over Ianto's back, increasing his hyper-awareness of him. Ianto attempted to open his eyes and twist around to kiss Jack's mouth, only to realise that moving wasn't as appealing as he had thought. He gave in and let his eyes flutter shut again, attempted saying something and only managing a quiet and incoherent mumble as Jack's finger slipped inside him. Jack was still leaning down over him, lowering his lips to the skin on the back of Ianto's shoulder as he moved his finger in and out.
“Control your breathing … keep it steady,” he murmured. “Breathe deep. Relax.”
Pushing his finger in deeper, he found Ianto's prostate and pressed against it with a tiny amount of pressure, resting one hand in between his shoulder blades as he pulled his finger out and pushed it back in again, aiming for the spot.
“Mmf,” Ianto managed, his only method of communication becoming monosyllabic grunts.
On the edge of his awareness, he knew Jack was moving lower on the bed, and he made a disappointed sound as the finger inside him was taken away. It was, however, almost immediately replaced with a gentle, hot, wet tongue that did the job just as well, he decided.
He could feel it tracing the edges of his opening, pressing in a little way and twisting out, before being pressed flat and dragged over.
“Jaaauuuhmff,” Ianto assessed, trying to keep his breathing under control.
He felt his Captain's hands work their way under his shoulders, lifting him to turn him onto his back. There was very little he could do to help, so Ianto settled on doing nothing instead. His muscles were too jelly-fied to do anything at that moment.
Jack didn't seem to mind – he probably pre-empted it – and gently turned him and repositioned him, putting a pillow behind his head and pulling his legs wide so that he could lie between them. He leaned down and kissed Ianto on the mouth, unsurprisingly finding very little resistance when his tongue begged entrance inside or receiving nothing but the laziest of responses.
Taking a spot more oil, Jack began to massage it into Ianto's nipples, listening to the soft noises from his throat as the oil sensitised and the massage pleasured. He could feel Ianto, hard beneath him and making lazed attempts at controlling his breathing, and kissed him again, rocking his hips slightly and pinching the nipples before rubbing them to soothe. Ianto managed to grunt, and thought about raising his hand to touch Jack's arm, but it wasn't going to happen.
Ianto's whole body was tingling pleasantly, and he was becoming and more and more aware of every single movement Jack made. It still came as a bit of a surprise, however, when he felt Jack knelt over him, a hand reaching back to grab Ianto's erection and line him up before sinking down so beautifully slowly.
Ianto started panting, and Jack had to work through a haze to calm him down and make him attempt to take deep breaths. The fire was coming back to Ianto's body now, and he could feel himself waking up, feel himself trying to move and buck. Jack held him down firmly by the shoulders, and when the moment passed started massaging his upper arms and chest, while slowly clenching and relaxing his inner muscles around Ianto's cock. He ran his hands from stomach to collarbone, coaxing Ianto back into his calm state.
Leaning down, Jack kissed Ianto gently, just pressing their mouths together, before slowly slipping in his tongue and lazily making out, moving his hands back to Ianto's nipples and squeezing Ianto's erection inside him.
Ianto's orgasm was more like sinking into a hot bath than falling over the edge, blanketing him completely until he could feel nothing but the numbing pleasure singing through his veins, basic needs like the requirement of oxygen neglected as his brain was distracted and forgot he really should be breathing.
Too soon, Ianto returned to himself, his breath finally coming back and his body tingling in his afterglow. He opened his eyes, finding Jack kneeling, straddling his shoulders. Ianto parted his lips in invitation, and Jack gratefully slipped his cock into his mouth, not breaking eye contact as he slowly thrust in and out, one hand on the mattress to support himself and the other gently tangled in Ianto's hair. In ten thrusts he was spent, and Ianto swallowed as Jack collapsed onto the mattress beside him, gathering Ianto up and squeezing him tight.
“Feel better?” Jack muttered, kissing his nose.
“Mmmfffmmuch.”
“I,” Jack announced. “am going to go and start packing my things. I'm going to do it neatly, keeping mindful of space saving, and I promise not to touch anything belonging to you.” He got out of bed, folding the duvet over Ianto to keep him warm and cosy without the palaver of getting him underneath it and left him doze while opening his side of the wardrobe and getting his suitcase ready.
Ianto hadn't slept so well for a long time, and was loath to get up. But there were agitated voices carrying in from the living room, and he had to. With great effort he dragged himself from the warmth and comfort of his bed, pulled on his suit and shirt and buttoning up his waistcoat as he poked his head around the door.
Ahhh great. That lawyer was back. Mr. Grant Poole, representing the Commonwealth and being very smug and condescending about it.
At the moment, he was having the calmer side of an argument with Jack, and Ianto's eyes were still squinting tiredly in the light when he cleared his throat to announce his presence.
“Go back in our room, Ianto,” Jack practically ordered him.
“But,” countered Mr. Poole. “I need to speak with him. Alone.”
Jack glared. “I told you that wasn't going to happen! Not until we get legal representation of our own to sit in on the meeting.”
“I just want to interview Mr. Jones – ask a few basic questions. It shouldn't take five minutes.”
Ianto sighed. “Jack, go up to your office.”
Jack looked like he was going to pout, before snapping his mouth shut and storming into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
“Mr. Poole,” Ianto acknowledged.
“Ah – good to see your memory is in good working order. Might we sit?”
“Generally in someone else's house, you wait for the host to offer you a seat – but do so anyway,” Ianto replied coolly. “So – you need to ask me some questions?” he said, sitting down on the other end of the couch, perching on the end. Mr. Poole had the appearance of a window salesman settling himself in for the big pitch, relaxing and reclining into the sofa and crossing one leg over the other.
“Just a few questions to give me an idea of how well you know Mr. Harkness.”
“Captain Harkness.”
Mr. Poole sighed. “I know this is difficult for you, Mr. Jones, but please appreciate I am just doing my job. Animosity will not help your case, I assure you.”
“It's hardly my fault you do not know my partner's name,” Ianto pointed out. “But I shall try to be civil. Please appreciate that I am just defending myself and my marriage against unnecessary interference and inappropriate scrutiny.”
Mr. Poole sighed again, heavier. “I just need to ask a few questions.”
“Go ahead,” prompted Ianto.
“What is Captain Harkness' favourite colour?” he asked, producing an electronic notepad and holding the stylus ready.
“Blue,” Ianto replied, a little confused. Was this it? This would be easy.
“What is his favourite food?”
“Doughnuts.”
“I mean … to eat for a meal.”
“Doughnuts,” Ianto repeated.
“His favourite treat?”
“Erm … that's rather personal … something to keep private,” Ianto said, shifting uncomfortably.
“I mean … to eat or drink?”
“Still personal and private.”
“Hm. How about … favourite pastime?”
“Personal and private.”
“Mm.”
Mr. Poole made a note, then cleared his throat. “What is the Captain's favourite fruit?”
“Depends what time of year it is.”
“Oh?”
“Apples in summer, oranges in winter.”
“What was his mother's name?”
Ah. Shit. Jack had never actually told him – so he said the first name that came to mind, “Alice.”
“And where was he born?”
“At … home?”
“What are his political allegiances?”
“Floating voter.”
“His first memory?”
That one stumped Ianto for a second. How was he really supposed to know that? He wondered if he would get points for coming clean … so tried it. “I don't know that one.”
“Hmm. I see. Okay; what is his favourite book?”
Ianto snorted. “Jack doesn't really read.”
“But if you had to take a guess?”
“Erm … 'Where's Wally?'?”
Mr. Poole carried on for another few minutes, until he seemingly had all he desperately needed to know. Ianto got up to show him upstairs to the door, and part way through it, Mr. Poole hesitated.
“Just one more thing … you've been together a year now, yes?”
“I … yes.”
“Still all … sunshine and roses?”
Ianto raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding?”
“Not so much, then?”
Ianto took in a deep breath, that he let out slowly. “It's not bad. It's working – I've never been so happy. But … I've never been so … well, depressed, either. I love him so much I hate him. I … hope … does that make sense to you?”
“Maybe,” shrugged Mr. Poole. “Anyway – I shall get back to you soon enough, Mr. Jones. Send my regards to your Captain, and I hope you both keep well.”
With that, Mr. Poole began to make his way down the corridor.
Ianto closed the door slowly, and rested his forehead on the wood. He couldn't quite believe he'd just told the lawyer who's job it was to split them up that he hated Jack. Fuck.
Pushing it to the back of his mind, deciding to face the consequences when the consequences came knocking, he made his way back to the bedroom trying to school his features into not looking worried. He found Jack crouched by the mess of broken glass and splintered wood that had been the photograph frame and puzzle box that Ianto had hurled against the wall earlier, cleaning up the mess. On the bed was a wrapped gift and the wedding photo.
For Ianto Jones, 21st Century Man, read the label on the gift, and Ianto picked up the smallish cube. “Can I open it?” he asked, and Jack glanced up from where he was crouched, smiled and nodded.
“It's yours.”
Ianto smiled weakly. “Thanks for clearing that up,” he said, his voice quiet and nodding to the mess on the carpet.
Jack shrugged. “Gotta do my bit. Did you approve of my packing?”
“I didn't get a chance to inspect it,” sighed Ianto, pulling at the ribbon and tag of his gift box. The paper was flame red with a gold bow, and it came off with the ribbon to reveal a velveteen wristwatch box. Carefully, Ianto snapped up the lid, and frowned inside.
The box contained a glass cube, and inside the glass cube was … soil.
“It's … I love it,” Ianto announced, sounding more convincing than he thought he might. He lifted the cube out of the box, then paused when he saw that it was actually on a labelled base. It was old and worn, the words barely readable: Cardiff, 21st Century.
Ianto stared at it.
… and stared at it.
He tried telling himself it was just soil, but … really … so much more than that ….
“Where did you … where did you get this?”
Jack was grinning from ear to ear. “Have you any idea how long I've been waiting to see your face?”
Ianto could probably imagine the shock and disbelief written on his features as he sat on his bed in the year six-billion-two-hundred-and-thirteen-thousand-and-sixty-three holding a piece of the twenty-first century – a piece of home - in his hands.
Carefully, he placed the cube on the bedside table.
“I think,” he said. “you need to put that dust pan and brush away and come back to bed.”
Jack grinned wider. “Only if you promise to dominate and control me in ways I've never before experienced at your hands.”
Ianto raised an eyebrow. “What are you still dressed for?”
The dust pan and brush barely had time to clatter to the floor.
Who put the 'Glad' in 'Gladiator'?
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Date: 2010-05-12 05:10 am (UTC)Also aww...poor Ianto. And BOO lawyers (no offense to any actual lawyer that might be reading this)!
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Date: 2010-05-12 05:33 am (UTC)Omg the interrogation. DOUGHNUTS.
Oh Ianto...
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Date: 2010-05-12 05:39 am (UTC)Eeep! I hope Ianto's comment to the lawyer isn't going to cause problems. Though... maybe him being truthful will help? *hopes*
OOOOoooo!!! Dominant!Ianto! :D
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Date: 2010-05-12 07:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-12 09:05 am (UTC)yaaay the box got opened!!! Ianto has a box of dirt!! yays!
umf... can /I/ get a Jack-massage???
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Date: 2010-05-12 10:06 am (UTC)Poor Yantoes and Giacomo :( I hope they sort it out soon! And no one is THAT happy with their partner :P So I think Ianto did the right thing.
Much loves,
Jen-Jen xx
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Date: 2010-05-12 11:54 am (UTC)Awesome chapter. But I am very worried about that lawyer.
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Date: 2010-05-12 12:24 pm (UTC)Poor Ianto w/ little Jack. Parents make mistakes; it happens to the best of us.
That massage: oooooo yes. I liked Jack's warning at the beginning, because you can *definitely* come from just a massage.
And oh no w/ the lawyer. Will shit go down?! I have a sneaking suspicion "yes".
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Date: 2010-05-12 03:14 pm (UTC)Loved it!
Looking forward to seeing how things work out with Little Jack, Rhys, the lawyer...
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Date: 2010-05-12 04:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-12 05:50 pm (UTC)Love it!
This is JUST what I needed after my shite day!
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Date: 2010-05-13 04:06 am (UTC)lawyers grrrrr! adore the soil, so sweet!
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Date: 2010-05-13 07:39 am (UTC)“His favourite treat?”
“Erm … that's rather personal … something to keep private,” Ianto said, shifting uncomfortably.
“I mean … to eat or drink?”
“Still personal and private.”
Absolutely made of win!
And the dirt was such a beautiful gift. Still loving this story.
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Date: 2010-05-13 12:07 pm (UTC)I love so much i hate it (but I didn't tell that to a lawyer who is evil *glares*).
Please marry me and have my babies -jks...kind of ;)
x
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Date: 2010-05-13 09:47 pm (UTC)but great chapter! i'm sure ianto and little jack with work things out and i'm all excited about dom!ianto. yummy!
Thank Goddess you're here!
Date: 2010-05-14 12:33 pm (UTC)XOXOXO
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Date: 2010-05-16 01:38 pm (UTC)