Torchwood IMs: The Reception (Prose)
Jun. 15th, 2009 09:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a_silver_storyTitle: The Reception (Prose)
Chapter: 33
Characters: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
a_silver_story
Genre Humour
Rating: R
Warnings: M.M implied
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: This is for several people. You'll understand when you read it.
FIRST PART | Ianto and Gwen's IM's
PREVIOUS | Torchwood Index/Masterlist
33 | (Prose)
Jack felt warm and cosy, curled up in his little bed. He half opened one eye and registered the wall in front of him. He sighed happily. If he was on his side rather than his back, Ianto was in bed with him. It made him happy.
Lifting a heavy arm, he felt the hip of the warm body lying behind him and moved to squeeze the thigh gently. There was a sleepy sigh near his ear, and an arm found its way over Jack’s shoulders and chest. Jack wriggled back into Ianto a little, feeling their bodies touching from shoulders to thighs, and let himself drift off. He blearily laced his fingers through the pale ones near his heart, and let sleep take him again.
It was at that moment, the alarm starting screaming.
Jack shot bolt upright, and breathed a sigh of relief when he realised it was the bed side alarm rather than the Intruder 600002 that was blaring. Ianto groaned and snuggled his face into the covers. Despite any pretences, he wasn’t a morning person.
“Come on.” Said Jack, shaking him non too gently as he climbed over him out of bed. Ianto rolled onto his stomach into the space left by Jack and muttered something about ‘not taking that long to get ready ...’. Jack gave him a little poke between the shoulder blades. “You take a helluva lot longer than me to get ready, and you know it.”
Jack could spy Ianto’s hands curling around the bars in the headboard, clearly anticipating Jack’s next tactic of forcefully dragging him out of bed. He sighed, and decided to try poking him again. No dice. He cracked the knuckles in his index fingers, took a deep breath ... and started jabbing and tickling at every inch of Ianto he could find. Ianto did not appreciate it.
Curling up into a ball, he uselessly pawed at Jack’s hands moaning and groaning and cursing, but definitely not getting up. Jack stood, and ripped the sheets back from the bed to a cry of indignation from the sleeping lump that had been underneath them. Ianto half turned onto his back and flicked a couple of lazy “V”s at Jack ... so Jack decided to play dirty.
“What would Ianto do?” he pondered for a moment. He smirked when it hit him. Ianto was defiantly drifting back to unconsciousness, so Jack gently lifted his legs onto his shoulders and pulled his pyjama bottoms down a little, exposing Ianto’s flaccid cock as it instantly began to react to the closeness of Jack’s body. Jack sucked and licked and kissed and breathed until Ianto was rock hard – which didn’t take long – and finally took his entire length into his mouth. Ianto groaned and moaned all the while, reaching down and tangling his fingers in Jack’s hair and gently squeezing his thighs against his head.
Listening with satisfaction as Ianto moaned his name, Jack could hear that he was close. He chuckled evilly and Ianto fruitlessly tried to push his head back in between his legs as he pulled away.
“No no no no no! Jack ... you can’t do ... you can’t do that ... you can’t ....” he moaned, reaching down to touch himself. Jack caught his wrists and laughed.
“You’ll have to get up if you want to come.” He chuckled. Ianto groaned louder, cursing him in Welsh. Like many English speakers, Jack had learnt the cuss words of other languages first and understood perfectly what he was saying.
Ianto dragged himself to sit up, pulling himself onto Jack’s lap and wrapping his arms around his shoulders and neck. “I’m up, I’m up, I’m up!” he pleaded, and pressed his lips to Jack’s. Their tongues met and Ianto moaned into Jack’s mouth as strong fingers squeezed and stroked and teased his erection. He broke away, trailing butterfly kisses along Jack’s jawline and nibbled a little at his ear. Nuzzling into Jack’s neck, he came, biting down softly on the warm, masculine-scented skin.
A short while later, Ianto had worked the magic of his own mouth on Jack and they were both temporarily satisfied, brushing teeth, neatening hair and pulling on clothes. Ianto had had to force Jack to put on some non-military clothes with great difficulty. “It’s a wedding, Jack. You can’t wear your uniform to a wedding unless you’re the groom or a parent of the happy couple.”
Finally, Ianto was wearing a burgundy shirt with a black and silver tie with his favourite plain black suit and Jack had been forced into black formal trousers and jacket with a deep, sheer purple shirt that Ianto had bought him. Even though he didn’t need to, Ianto indulged in tying the double Windsor knot in the silk tie. Jack let him, chuckling a little at the wifey-ness of the action. As they walked towards the SUV, Ianto veered off towards the more sensible cars in the Torchwood car park. Jack stopped, torn between going somewhere without the SUV and the fact Ianto no longer actually had a car after the incident with John a couple of Christmases ago.
“We’re going in Toshiko’s car?” asked Jack.
“She said I could have it if she went first.” Said Ianto simply.
“You two really thought about dying a lot, didn’t you?”
“Yep.” Ianto didn’t look at him. “Am I driving, or are you?”
“You are. I’ve no idea where the hell we’re going.”
~*~*~*~
They drove in comfortable silence, listening to the radio. Ianto turned it up as loud as he could when “I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing” by Aerosmith came on, both him and Jack singing along loudly and earning the two men in suits and an expensive Audi convertible several odd looks at a number of traffic lights and pelicans.
When they finally arrived at the church, it had been another battle to get Jack to leave his coat in the back of the car, and another to make him stop fidgeting with the neckline of his shirt. “But I can’t breathe, Ianto!” he moaned, pulling at his tie. Ianto batted his hand away, straightened the knot again and dragged him into the archaic building.
Looking around for a couple of seconds, he pulled Jack to the bride’s side of the pews and they settled themselves.
“Oh! Ianto!” called a woman in her mid-thirties drowning in the sea of little boys at her feet. She started to make her way over as Ianto stood and held his arms out to hug her. Jack wondered if he should stand too, but decided to remain seated as the tide of children appeared to be migrating their way too. He heard his name mentioned and saw Ianto’s hand gesticulate that he should stand and be introduced to “cousin Myrtle”. Jack shook her hand, made his obligatory flirtatious remark and cast his eye of the swamp of children that were currently trying to eat each other. One of them, the smallest, was stood on the pew in front of him, pointing at his chest and shouting “PURPLE! PURPLE! MAMMY! PURPLE!”
“Are these all yours?” asked Jack politely.
Cousin Myrtle nodded in mock regret. “As far as I know. I think I’m losing count!”
Jack grinned. “They can’t possibly all be yours ... you’re far too young!”
Myrtle giggled a little as Ianto rolled his eyes. “So ... you’re friend of Ianto’s?”
“I’m his partner.” Jack replied.
Myrtle seemed to falter slightly. “You’re joking?” Jack and Ianto raised simultaneous eyebrows. Myrtle lifted the smallest child, still yelling “PURPLE MAMMY, PURPLE!!” at Jack’s shirt and held him out to Ianto. “Hold this for a minute ...” she said, dumping him in his arms and turning away and looking around. She moved away, shouting “Colwyn! Colwyn! COLWYN! I owe you a bit of money ...”
Ianto laughed, sitting down holding his little cousin on his lap. He was still yelling “PURPLE PURPLE PURPLE!”
“Alright, alright.” Ianto told him. “Yes, well done. Jack’s shirt is purple. You’re getting very clever, aren’t you?” The child grinned and was sated. Jack notice a white sticky label was attached to the front of his little jacket. “Ieuan” it declared in strong black marker.
“Ewan.” Attempted Jack.
“Nope.” Said Ianto. “YAY-an. Yay-an. Ieuan.”
Jack tutted. He looked around at the other children and attempted another guess. “Lew—ellin.”
“Nope. Clew-ellen. Llywelyn.”
“I forgot. Double “L” is that funny ‘C-caught-in-the-throat’ sound.”
“Yep.”
Jack spotted another child. “Sir-win”.
“Nope.”
Jack sighed in exasperation.
“Ker-win. Cerwyn.”
Ieuan had taken an interest in the little Welsh name lesson and was laughing at Jack’s attempts. Jack gave him a mock scowl. “Where’s that bit of paper they gave you? With the itinerary of the service in it?”
“Here.” Ianto shoved the folded bit of paper into Jack’s hands. Jack looked at the cover. “Is the bride called ‘Ee-rah’?”
“Nope. Ay-ra. Eira.”
“Awww. That’s a pretty name.”
“Yep. But she’s the bride so don’t ...”
“I know I know. The groom’s called Dry-stan.”
“Driss-tan. Drystan. That’s easy.”
“Damn. I decided to go against instinct.” Ianto and Ieuan laughed a little.
“See if you can pronounce the father of the bride’s name.” Said Ianto. Jack looked back at the sheet of paper and smiled.
“Dave?”
Ieuan and Ianto broke out in mock applause, cut short by a cry of “Ow!” from the huddle of brothers that had decided to start bickering and fighting. Jack found a small body shoved into his arms as Ianto stood, arms folded and his best scolding face on.
“WHAT on EARTH do you boys thing you are DOING?” he chastised. He didn’t raise his voice all that much, but the authority with which he spoke brought the little scuffle to a freeze-frame. One boy had his hair being pulled by two other hands in different directions, while his own fingers had found their way up a bigger lad’s nose. One kid was on the floor, his teeth bitten deep into an ankle while it’s owner had his hands curling round boxers ready to pull a wedgie. The others – there must have been about seven of them – were all mid-punch or scratch, frozen at the sudden control Ianto seemed to have over them. “Well?” asked Ianto.
The tableaux sprang to life as the kids re-arranged themselves, all staring guiltily at the floor. They all had the Jones look that seemed to run through all the males in the family – dark hair, prominent cheekbones and cool blue eyes. The women all seemed to have auburn hair with brown and hazel eyes. Well, Rhiannon and her mother had anyway. There were a couple of other red-headed people bobbing about, so Jack could only guess that they were probably related.
Ianto made the boys apologise to each other, but not before informing them that when they were put into Cousin Rhiannon’s care later, they could fight again. Jack couldn’t really tell if he was joking or not.
The boys filed into one of the pews, Ieuan shoved among them, and sat in quiet chat until their mother came bustling back. She stared at her boys, all behaving, and looked like someone had smacked her a wad of a thousand £100 notes. Grinning at Ianto, she took a spot next to him - behind her children, though, so that she could see them all.
“How did you do it?” she asked incredulously, kissing his cheek. Ianto just smiled and muttered something about learning how to use his voice to convey authority without yelling like a fishwife. Jack reached up to his neck and tried to loosen his tie a little, and without looking Ianto batted his fingers away and carried on his conversation with Myrtle.
The church filled up slowly – Ianto had, of course, got them there early – and eventually everyone was settled and ready for the service to begin. The boys started fidgeting again, and Ianto leaned forward and whispered a warning that was instantly digested and passed down the row.
The wedding march started up, and everyone stood as one and turned to watch the bride, Eira, walk down the aisle. Her hand was linked through her father’s, who was grinning like a madman and clearly beyond elation. Behind them were the two bridesmaids, carrying little corsages of pretty flowers and wearing deep red dresses. Rhiannon looked beautiful, Jack had to admit, and so did the shorter brunette trailing a little behind her. Neither of them looked as stunning as the bride though, and Jack almost regretfully watched her walk past him. ‘”Drystan” was a lucky sod,’ he thought, as his eyes drifted closer to home and rested on Ianto. He smiled to himself. ‘But I’m luckier.’
The service went without a hitch – apart from a moment of blind panic when the best man was convinced he’d forgotten the rings, only for his own wife to sigh and reach into his pocket and pull out a jewellery box. Jack slipped his hand into Ianto’s and decided to leave it there.
~*~*~*~
The reception was a much bigger affair. The function room was huge, with one long table around the outside with a few gaps in between so that it was easier to get to and from the dance floor. There were about 200 guests, and all of them seemed to know Ianto. Jack felt a little pushed to the side, but didn’t mind too much since it gave him chance to check out the brunette bridesmaid as she loitered by the punch fountain. He sighed, resigning to the fact he wasn’t going to even talk to her – someone would probably notice if he was flirting with her and from the size of Ianto’s family he didn’t really want to be seen as cheating.
In the corner, the gaggle of brothers that had sat perfectly behaved in front of him in the service were bickering and scrabbling again. Rhiannon was trying desperately to get Ieuan to stop pulling at her hair while a little girl in a pink meringue dress was yanking at her skirt. Taking pity, Jack called to Ianto and nodded in her direction. Ianto took the hint and made his way over calling: “Tarrian, don’t pull on Auntie Rhi’s skirt!”.
Jack felt eyes watching him, and turned to find the brunette bridesmaid staring in his direction. He smiled at her and she looked away, abashed. Jack swivelled back to where he’d last seen Ianto, only to spot a flash of expensive suit disappear under the shouted order of “DOGPILE ON IANTO!”. Ianto was laughing hard, trying in vain to pull one of about ten children off him as others scrambled to climb the heap of bodies. Myrtle wandered over, telling them off with a glass of punch in one hand and giggling out words that died on deaf ears. The kids scrambled off when Ianto shouted “Dogpile on Auntie Myrtle!”, and they migrated on top of their mother and aunt.
“Should have seen that coming.” Rhiannon said to him as he dusted down his suit, still smiling to himself. She pressed a wine glass into his hand, as they turned away in conversation.
A hand touched Jack’s arm, and he turned around to find Brunette Bridesmaid holding some punch out to him. He took it with a smile and a thanks. Noticing she now had name label stuck to her deep red satin gown, he attempted to pronounce it. “Fleur?” he offered.
She laughed. “Fleer. Fflur.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Why can’t you people spell things how they’re pronounced?”
“What makes you so certain the it isn’t the English pronunciation that’s mangled?” she replied. Jack gave a small laugh.
“Fair point. Never thought of it that way.”
“Lots of people don’t. So ... where abouts are you from?”
“All sorts of places.”
“But originally? That accent. It’s American?”
“Sort of.”
Fflur laughed flirtatiously. “Man of mystery, are ya?”
“If you want me to be.” Jack gave her is best sly smile. ‘Stop it.’ Said his internal Jiminy Cricket voice. ‘You promised yourself no. You’re headed for trouble ...’.
Fflur moved a little closer, into his personal space. Jack shifted slightly. “I suppose now would be a good time to mention I’m spoken for?”
“Oh.” She leant more than ‘stepped’ back. “Is she here?”
“I’m with Ianto.” Explained Jack.
“Ianto? Rhiannon’s Ianto?”
“Yes.”
Fflur frowned in obvious confusion. “But ... Rhiannon said he was single now.”
“When did she say that?” asked Jack, incredulous.
“Earlier. She was trying to get us back together, I think ....”
“‘Back’ together?”
Fflur laughed. “We didn’t really share anything. We were barely seventeen, and I’ve only seen him about twice since.”
Ianto had somehow been dragged onto the dance floor and was twirling a middle-aged woman around to “Karma Chameleon” while laughing at a nearby elderly man’s attempt at tap dancing. A significantly fitter old couple were somehow managing to jitterbug. Jack had loved jitterbugging. Maybe he could ask the old lady to dance ...
“So ... what did Rhiannon tell you about Ianto?” he asked Fflur.
“Just that he was different now. More mature. He’d be good for me.”
Jack grunted by way of reply.
“He’s definitely grown into himself. I never thought he’d be – I dunno – so masculine. Broad shoulders and big hands, y’know.” Jack laughed. “Last time I saw him he was a skinny teenager.” They watched him for a moment, before Fflur continued. “He’s still lovely though. Adorable ... almost seems a waste ...” she joked.
Jack laughed and winked. “Not from where I’m standing.”
“How long have you been together?”
“Two and a half years, give or take a month or so.”
“Oh. I never heard.”
“Well, Ianto didn’t exactly tell his mum or Rhiannon until a couple of months ago.”
“Oh.”
They stood together in silence for a couple of moments while they finished their punch. “You wanna dance?” asked Jack as the track changed and “Chain Reaction” started up in the speakers.
“Yeah. Alright.” Said Fflur, taking his offered hand and following him to the dance floor.
Ianto now had a little girl in his arms wearing a white dress with whom he was doing that funny jig-dance thing people do with kids that can’t walk. He noticed Jack coming to the dance floor and managed to dislodge the child, despite a little trouble getting her to let go of his tie. He started to make his way over, then realised he had a partner and nodded in recognition. Turning, he made his way over to the spot Jack had marked with his coat on the table and started taking off his jacket and cufflinks. He rolled up his sleeves and checked the fob watch in his waistcoat pocket before bodily lifting a kid who’d just done a knee slide that was set to collide into the wall. “Don’t do that. You’ll ruin your trousers.” He scolded, then, when out of earshot of other adults bent close and whispered: “If you do it when they turn on the smoke machine there’s less chance of them seeing you.”
Run DMC and Aerosmith had begun playing, and all the now tipsy men were getting up and doing their best air guitar routines. Some were on their knees: some were in true guitar hero positions, with fists in the air and legs spread wide. Ianto was about to go join an arm wrestling tournament that was starting up on the other side of the room, when he properly clocked who Jack was dancing with. Fflur.
He remembered vaguely telling Jack that he could have the bridesmaid that wasn’t Rhiannon, but he hadn’t know then that it was Fflur. He admired her feminine form from a distance, seeing how much of a woman she’d become since he could last remember her. He’d mooned over her for months before finally asking her out, only to end up kissing Bethan Stewart behind the bike sheds a few weeks later. He laughed at the thought of going behind the bike sheds. At his college, they’d been made of green metal and transparent plexi-glass, so hiding behind them was rather pointless. But now he and Fflur had grown up, and life didn’t revolve around timetables and exams and coursework and they’d figured out who they were and what they wanted. Some of his old feelings started to creep back into his stomach, but he told himself it was just lust. Lust from when he was young and innocent and had no idea about real love.
He was suddenly dragged harshly onto the dance floor. The track was changing again and UB40 were beginning their homage to “Red, Red, Wine”. Cousin Myrtle was well and truly intoxicated, pulling him clumsily towards the other dancing people. They hadn’t even got to the speeches yet, and Ianto wondered, as they drunkenly swayed, whether Myrtle would be conscious for long enough to hear them.
The song came to an end, and Ianto managed to shove Myrtle onto her husband and made his way towards Fflur and Jack as the ‘Ghostbusters’ theme tune’s ominous opening chords started to crank up from the speakers.
He tapped her on the shoulder gently. “I do believe this is our song, madam.” He smiled. Fflur laughed and turned to dance with him. Jack asked if anyone wanted punch or wine and went to fetch.
“So ... you’re on the same team now?” Fflur asked as she pulled herself a little closer to him so that he could hear her.
“I’m on both teams.” He said, almost fed up of euphemisms. He decided just to say “bisexual” in people’s faces from now on.
“Well that’s promising.” She said.
“Still a shameless flirt then?”
“Haha, wasn’t I always?”
They were interrupted by Ianto’s brother-in-law. “Alright, Ianto?” he asked. He obviously didn’t care – he was just making conversation. “Mind if I cut in? It’s not like Fflur’s your type, after all ...” He cut between them.
“I do mind, actually.” Said Ianto, giving him a gentle shove away. “This is our song, isn’t it Fflur.”
“Er .. yeah, Alwyn. This is our song.” Fflur gave a weak smile, sensing the tension between the two men.
Alwyn looked a little doubtful. “The Ghostbusters theme?”
“We were very rock’n’roll.” Said Ianto.
“’We?’”
Fflur stepped in. “We had a thing.” She explained, before pulling Ianto’s arm and taking him to another area of the dance floor. “He’s a little edgy, isn’t he?” she said. Ianto grunted. “I suppose he’s the type to be a bit of a homophone.”
Ianto couldn’t hide his snigger. “Homophobe.” He stressed. “A homophone is a word that sounds the same as another but is spelt differently.”
She giggled at her mistake. “Jack gave me too much punch!” she said, playfully batting his arm as the song came to an end and they made their way towards where Jack was waiting with drinks. The three of them sat in silence for while, until the whole room cheered as “Thriller” broke into the soundwaves and all the eighties children sprang to their feet and started drunkenly trying to do the routine – some going the wrong way, some arms meeting faces and some bickering over who got to be Michael Jackson. Fflur went and joined a gaggle of girls who were stood gossiping by the chocolate fountain (which Ianto had decided to avoid in case he ended up doing a Vicar of Dibley). Ianto took the moment to pull Jack’s ear to his mouth and ask him what he’d been desperate to ask him since he’d realised he’d already made moves toward Fflur.
“Please don’t sleep with Fflur.” He said over the noisy music.
“Wasn’t going to.” Said Jack, squeezing Ianto’s thigh. “Decided against it – what with your family being so big I wouldn’t be able to identify which one tried to kill me first, and all.”
Ianto nodded as he put his chin on Jack’s shoulder and held his arms around Jack’s chest. They sat in comfortable silence, watching drunkards, dancers and drunkard dancers meander around the place.
Jack started suddenly, and Ianto put his hands on his shoulders ready to force him to sit down in case he tried to stand. When Jack jumped like that, it was usually because he was about to engage in confrontation. However, he didn’t try and stand. “I’ve just remembered something. Y’know Rhiannon?” he said.
“I think ... yes ... I think I know Rhiannon. Auburn hair, bit skinny – rumour has it we’re closely related? Practically siblings, according to my mam.”
“Yeah ... well ... she kind of told Fflur that you were single, and that you were grown up and mature and then you’d be good for her. Like she was trying to get you two back together.”
Ianto’s lips formed an “Oh” of comprehension. He stood, and told Jack to stay where he was. Ianto began to make his way towards Rhiannon and Alwyn, his fists balled up and his shoulders tense. Jack knew that Ianto was about to lash out, but to be honest he couldn’t blame him. If he went over and tried to stop him, they’d end up kicking the shite out of each other instead. Jack decided he’d rather let him give Rhiannon what for instead of tarnishing his reputation with the wider family.
Jack realised a little too late that it wasn’t Rhiannon Ianto was heading for. It was her husband, Alwyn. Ianto was in his personal space, squared up and threatening. Alwyn wasn’t cowed, which was a bit stupid. Ianto had a temper. It took something big to set it off, but with it came Ianto’s dark side. The only time Ianto had ever really hurt someone was when he’d shot Owen, and that was only because he’d been insulting him personally.
A couple of people had noticed the confrontation over by the side of the room. A few people were muttering and pointing. Jack looked away. He’d seen Alwyn try and cut in between Ianto and Fflur during their dance and the tension was visible from the punch fountain. Whatever was coming to him, he deserved. But then again ... Ianto might get hurt. Jack almost jumped to his feet and made his way over. At the same time, the groom, Drystan had managed to get to them. They’d already started shoving each other and offering threats.
“Take it outside fellas, please. Before Eira sees. It’s our day, remember?”
“Sorry Drystan.” Said Ianto, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ve said what I needed to say anyway.” He turned to leave, almost walking straight into Jack as Alwyn jumped at him. Jack had seen it coming, and simply pushed Ianto out of the way, allowing Alwyn to land on him instead. He stumbled and Alwyn jarred and fell on his knees before Jack.
“Well, well, well ...” tutted Ianto, looking from one man to the other. “This is quite ... homoerotic ...”
Jack laughed, pulling him by the hand back to the dance floor. When they were out of ear shot, he leant close to Ianto’s ear. “He’s not done with you yet ... and that was my line.” He hissed.
Ianto giggled and snaked his arms around Jack’s neck as Coldplay’s “Fix You” began to drift towards them from the speakers. Jack squeezed Ianto’s waist slightly between his own arms. “I really really hate this song.” He sighed.
“Me too.” Agreed Ianto. “But dancing with you is distracting me from Git Brother.” He pulled his arms tighter around Jack’s neck and their foreheads touched as they swayed together.
The next song was Peter Kay and Tony Christie’s ‘Amarillo’ and a long train started around the dance floor that Ianto and Jack opted out of. After that song came the speeches, which were all lovely and well planned. The best man was very, very funny. He told the tale of how Drystan and Eira had met, after Drystan had forgotten he’d just moved to a ground floor flat and opened his curtains one morning to see the most beautiful woman in the world walking down the footpath. She saw him watching her and screamed in terror – and only then did he realise he was stark bollock naked. Two weeks later they bumped into each other in a pub and got talking after Drystan’s rather shoddy apology ... and five years later they were married.
The couple’s first dance was to Take That’s ‘Patience’, and Jack and Ianto were one of the first couples to take to the floor afterwards (and Jack could have sworn, as he pulled Ianto into his arms and leaned their heads together, several middle-to-old-aged women were going ‘awwww’). The next few hours were all slow or romantic songs, and they danced through them all. Their feet ached and they were falling asleep in each other’s arms when they decided to call it a night. They were about to make their way to their part of the table, when ‘You Do Something To Me’ started up.
“We danced to this at Gwen’s wedding.” Said Jack, holding out his hand for one last dance.
“You remember?” asked Ianto, falling back into his embrace.
“Yes. Then after Paul Weller, it was Will Young and then the Scissor Sisters. Who I hate, but ‘Laura’ was an alright song.”
Ianto’s forehead was against his, and he felt him frown. “You hate the Scissor Sisters? I thought you quite liked them.”
“Harold Saxon liked them too. I’ve decided they must be evil.”
Ianto gave a short laugh, before putting his chin back on Jack’s shoulder and humming along to the song in his ear.
“This was the song we first danced to as a couple in front of people.” Said Jack, as the song began to draw to a close. “Does that make it ‘our song’?”
“I suppose.” Yawned Ianto. “We have to go soon. I’m falling asleep on my feet.” Jack grunted his agreement and they huddled tighter before breaking apart again and going to get their coats.
They sought out the bride and groom to say goodbyes and thank yous and good lucks, and as they began to leave, Drystan leaned in close and whispered to Ianto: “Alwyn’s had too much to drink. Watch him.”
Ianto nodded and told him not to worry. He could handle himself. Drystan smiled and Eira told them they could come round and have dinner in their new house any time, but they’d have to get take-away because she couldn’t cook microwave dinners, never mind a meal for several people.
Fflur came over and said her goodbyes, kissing them both on the cheek and whishing them luck and telling them they looked good together. Ianto smiled and hugged her, and they made their way to the exit. Several people had left already, so finding the silver Audi in the sea of blue and white Peugots that were left wasn’t too difficult. Ianto felt a tap on his shoulder.
He turned, and there was Alwyn. Ianto dodged the blow before it came – thanks to experience of fighting with Jack, his reactions were well-honed. Jack yelled out in indignation, running at Alwyn and trying to hold him back. Someone inside must have heard something, because a few people came running out as Ianto threw a punch back at a struggling Alwyn. “Ianto! Don’t!” cried Jack.
“I’m fed up of him. I’m fed up of him being on the constant peripheral of my life. I’m fed up of the way he treats my sister and I’m fed up of the way he treats me.”
Jack was distracted, and Alwyn wriggled free. He threw himself into Ianto, who caught him, spun him and pulled his arm up behind him as he lay in the gravel on the floor. Alwyn barked in pain, using his free arm to pick up a handful of stones and threw them up behind him at Ianto. Ianto’s distraction allowed for him to roll them over, but not before Ianto had managed to get a knee between them. He used his powerful legs to push Alwyn up and off him.
The fight ended with Alwyn pinned to the wall by a hand on his neck. “Stop it Ianto!” Jack shouted for the millionth time. He wasn’t the only one who’d tried to intervene. Several shouting women and a few of the more sober men had tried to shout reasoning at them, but none of them – even Jack – had dared intervene. Ianto was in a blind rage, and word had reached inside that there was a fight on the outside. Jack heard Fflur squeal when she emerged to see what was going on, and she ran straight to Ianto and put a hand on his tense, outstretched arm just as he’d slammed a beaten and bloody Alwyn against the stone wall.
Ianto faltered at the touch, and Jack could just about see the change in his expression as he realised who was touching him as his eyes met hers. Then Jack saw it. That spark of attraction. That connection. That realisation and mutual understanding of it. He turned cold as Ianto listened to her and not him, calming himself and stepping back from Alwyn, who sank to the floor. He’d obviously realised a while ago he was out of his depth and Ianto wasn’t as ‘girly-weak’ as he’d thought. Ianto turned and put his arms around Fflur, pulling her into a hug. It wasn’t the same hug as before. Jack recognised the hug that she’d said goodbye to him with as one between friends. This one was more intimate. He prayed it was all in his head. ‘It probably is,’ said his personal Jiminy Cricket. ‘You’re always so jealous ...’
“Ianto!” he shouted. Ianto started, and turned to him. He gave a small nod to Fflur. Jack practically growled out loud. “Car. Now. Ianto.”
Ianto moved towards him, then paused. He turned to Rhiannon, who was fussing over Alwyn on the floor. “Rhiannon?” he got her attention. She turned to him. She looked a little guilty. “I’m not sorry about this.”
“It’s okay. He started on you.” Said Rhiannon with a weak smile, but couldn’t quite meet his eyes.
“No,” said Ianto. “I’m not sorry for that ...” he indicated the heap of Alwyn on the floor. “... but I’m not sorry for this either ...” He drew his arm back and slapped her. Hard. “I love you.” Said Ianto, as she gasped at her stinging cheek and nursed the hot skin. “But please. Get some fucking sense.”
FIN
N/B.: That best man speech? That was how my aunt and uncle actually met. It was a bit romantic (ish) so I stuck it in.
This chapter is dedicated to:
kikou2011, frakkin_addict, schnuckel, bandgeek01, johnny777, griza, charlotte3006, ianto_x_naomily
and everyone else who requested the bitchslap - but especiallygoddess_ophelia
Next Part | Previous Part | Torchwood Index | Request a Convo/Prose Fic
Chapter: 33
Characters: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness
Author:
a_silver_storyGenre Humour
Rating: R
Warnings: M.M implied
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: This is for several people. You'll understand when you read it.
FIRST PART | Ianto and Gwen's IM's
PREVIOUS | Torchwood Index/Masterlist
33 | (Prose)
Jack felt warm and cosy, curled up in his little bed. He half opened one eye and registered the wall in front of him. He sighed happily. If he was on his side rather than his back, Ianto was in bed with him. It made him happy.
Lifting a heavy arm, he felt the hip of the warm body lying behind him and moved to squeeze the thigh gently. There was a sleepy sigh near his ear, and an arm found its way over Jack’s shoulders and chest. Jack wriggled back into Ianto a little, feeling their bodies touching from shoulders to thighs, and let himself drift off. He blearily laced his fingers through the pale ones near his heart, and let sleep take him again.
It was at that moment, the alarm starting screaming.
Jack shot bolt upright, and breathed a sigh of relief when he realised it was the bed side alarm rather than the Intruder 600002 that was blaring. Ianto groaned and snuggled his face into the covers. Despite any pretences, he wasn’t a morning person.
“Come on.” Said Jack, shaking him non too gently as he climbed over him out of bed. Ianto rolled onto his stomach into the space left by Jack and muttered something about ‘not taking that long to get ready ...’. Jack gave him a little poke between the shoulder blades. “You take a helluva lot longer than me to get ready, and you know it.”
Jack could spy Ianto’s hands curling around the bars in the headboard, clearly anticipating Jack’s next tactic of forcefully dragging him out of bed. He sighed, and decided to try poking him again. No dice. He cracked the knuckles in his index fingers, took a deep breath ... and started jabbing and tickling at every inch of Ianto he could find. Ianto did not appreciate it.
Curling up into a ball, he uselessly pawed at Jack’s hands moaning and groaning and cursing, but definitely not getting up. Jack stood, and ripped the sheets back from the bed to a cry of indignation from the sleeping lump that had been underneath them. Ianto half turned onto his back and flicked a couple of lazy “V”s at Jack ... so Jack decided to play dirty.
“What would Ianto do?” he pondered for a moment. He smirked when it hit him. Ianto was defiantly drifting back to unconsciousness, so Jack gently lifted his legs onto his shoulders and pulled his pyjama bottoms down a little, exposing Ianto’s flaccid cock as it instantly began to react to the closeness of Jack’s body. Jack sucked and licked and kissed and breathed until Ianto was rock hard – which didn’t take long – and finally took his entire length into his mouth. Ianto groaned and moaned all the while, reaching down and tangling his fingers in Jack’s hair and gently squeezing his thighs against his head.
Listening with satisfaction as Ianto moaned his name, Jack could hear that he was close. He chuckled evilly and Ianto fruitlessly tried to push his head back in between his legs as he pulled away.
“No no no no no! Jack ... you can’t do ... you can’t do that ... you can’t ....” he moaned, reaching down to touch himself. Jack caught his wrists and laughed.
“You’ll have to get up if you want to come.” He chuckled. Ianto groaned louder, cursing him in Welsh. Like many English speakers, Jack had learnt the cuss words of other languages first and understood perfectly what he was saying.
Ianto dragged himself to sit up, pulling himself onto Jack’s lap and wrapping his arms around his shoulders and neck. “I’m up, I’m up, I’m up!” he pleaded, and pressed his lips to Jack’s. Their tongues met and Ianto moaned into Jack’s mouth as strong fingers squeezed and stroked and teased his erection. He broke away, trailing butterfly kisses along Jack’s jawline and nibbled a little at his ear. Nuzzling into Jack’s neck, he came, biting down softly on the warm, masculine-scented skin.
A short while later, Ianto had worked the magic of his own mouth on Jack and they were both temporarily satisfied, brushing teeth, neatening hair and pulling on clothes. Ianto had had to force Jack to put on some non-military clothes with great difficulty. “It’s a wedding, Jack. You can’t wear your uniform to a wedding unless you’re the groom or a parent of the happy couple.”
Finally, Ianto was wearing a burgundy shirt with a black and silver tie with his favourite plain black suit and Jack had been forced into black formal trousers and jacket with a deep, sheer purple shirt that Ianto had bought him. Even though he didn’t need to, Ianto indulged in tying the double Windsor knot in the silk tie. Jack let him, chuckling a little at the wifey-ness of the action. As they walked towards the SUV, Ianto veered off towards the more sensible cars in the Torchwood car park. Jack stopped, torn between going somewhere without the SUV and the fact Ianto no longer actually had a car after the incident with John a couple of Christmases ago.
“We’re going in Toshiko’s car?” asked Jack.
“She said I could have it if she went first.” Said Ianto simply.
“You two really thought about dying a lot, didn’t you?”
“Yep.” Ianto didn’t look at him. “Am I driving, or are you?”
“You are. I’ve no idea where the hell we’re going.”
They drove in comfortable silence, listening to the radio. Ianto turned it up as loud as he could when “I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing” by Aerosmith came on, both him and Jack singing along loudly and earning the two men in suits and an expensive Audi convertible several odd looks at a number of traffic lights and pelicans.
When they finally arrived at the church, it had been another battle to get Jack to leave his coat in the back of the car, and another to make him stop fidgeting with the neckline of his shirt. “But I can’t breathe, Ianto!” he moaned, pulling at his tie. Ianto batted his hand away, straightened the knot again and dragged him into the archaic building.
Looking around for a couple of seconds, he pulled Jack to the bride’s side of the pews and they settled themselves.
“Oh! Ianto!” called a woman in her mid-thirties drowning in the sea of little boys at her feet. She started to make her way over as Ianto stood and held his arms out to hug her. Jack wondered if he should stand too, but decided to remain seated as the tide of children appeared to be migrating their way too. He heard his name mentioned and saw Ianto’s hand gesticulate that he should stand and be introduced to “cousin Myrtle”. Jack shook her hand, made his obligatory flirtatious remark and cast his eye of the swamp of children that were currently trying to eat each other. One of them, the smallest, was stood on the pew in front of him, pointing at his chest and shouting “PURPLE! PURPLE! MAMMY! PURPLE!”
“Are these all yours?” asked Jack politely.
Cousin Myrtle nodded in mock regret. “As far as I know. I think I’m losing count!”
Jack grinned. “They can’t possibly all be yours ... you’re far too young!”
Myrtle giggled a little as Ianto rolled his eyes. “So ... you’re friend of Ianto’s?”
“I’m his partner.” Jack replied.
Myrtle seemed to falter slightly. “You’re joking?” Jack and Ianto raised simultaneous eyebrows. Myrtle lifted the smallest child, still yelling “PURPLE MAMMY, PURPLE!!” at Jack’s shirt and held him out to Ianto. “Hold this for a minute ...” she said, dumping him in his arms and turning away and looking around. She moved away, shouting “Colwyn! Colwyn! COLWYN! I owe you a bit of money ...”
Ianto laughed, sitting down holding his little cousin on his lap. He was still yelling “PURPLE PURPLE PURPLE!”
“Alright, alright.” Ianto told him. “Yes, well done. Jack’s shirt is purple. You’re getting very clever, aren’t you?” The child grinned and was sated. Jack notice a white sticky label was attached to the front of his little jacket. “Ieuan” it declared in strong black marker.
“Ewan.” Attempted Jack.
“Nope.” Said Ianto. “YAY-an. Yay-an. Ieuan.”
Jack tutted. He looked around at the other children and attempted another guess. “Lew—ellin.”
“Nope. Clew-ellen. Llywelyn.”
“I forgot. Double “L” is that funny ‘C-caught-in-the-throat’ sound.”
“Yep.”
Jack spotted another child. “Sir-win”.
“Nope.”
Jack sighed in exasperation.
“Ker-win. Cerwyn.”
Ieuan had taken an interest in the little Welsh name lesson and was laughing at Jack’s attempts. Jack gave him a mock scowl. “Where’s that bit of paper they gave you? With the itinerary of the service in it?”
“Here.” Ianto shoved the folded bit of paper into Jack’s hands. Jack looked at the cover. “Is the bride called ‘Ee-rah’?”
“Nope. Ay-ra. Eira.”
“Awww. That’s a pretty name.”
“Yep. But she’s the bride so don’t ...”
“I know I know. The groom’s called Dry-stan.”
“Driss-tan. Drystan. That’s easy.”
“Damn. I decided to go against instinct.” Ianto and Ieuan laughed a little.
“See if you can pronounce the father of the bride’s name.” Said Ianto. Jack looked back at the sheet of paper and smiled.
“Dave?”
Ieuan and Ianto broke out in mock applause, cut short by a cry of “Ow!” from the huddle of brothers that had decided to start bickering and fighting. Jack found a small body shoved into his arms as Ianto stood, arms folded and his best scolding face on.
“WHAT on EARTH do you boys thing you are DOING?” he chastised. He didn’t raise his voice all that much, but the authority with which he spoke brought the little scuffle to a freeze-frame. One boy had his hair being pulled by two other hands in different directions, while his own fingers had found their way up a bigger lad’s nose. One kid was on the floor, his teeth bitten deep into an ankle while it’s owner had his hands curling round boxers ready to pull a wedgie. The others – there must have been about seven of them – were all mid-punch or scratch, frozen at the sudden control Ianto seemed to have over them. “Well?” asked Ianto.
The tableaux sprang to life as the kids re-arranged themselves, all staring guiltily at the floor. They all had the Jones look that seemed to run through all the males in the family – dark hair, prominent cheekbones and cool blue eyes. The women all seemed to have auburn hair with brown and hazel eyes. Well, Rhiannon and her mother had anyway. There were a couple of other red-headed people bobbing about, so Jack could only guess that they were probably related.
Ianto made the boys apologise to each other, but not before informing them that when they were put into Cousin Rhiannon’s care later, they could fight again. Jack couldn’t really tell if he was joking or not.
The boys filed into one of the pews, Ieuan shoved among them, and sat in quiet chat until their mother came bustling back. She stared at her boys, all behaving, and looked like someone had smacked her a wad of a thousand £100 notes. Grinning at Ianto, she took a spot next to him - behind her children, though, so that she could see them all.
“How did you do it?” she asked incredulously, kissing his cheek. Ianto just smiled and muttered something about learning how to use his voice to convey authority without yelling like a fishwife. Jack reached up to his neck and tried to loosen his tie a little, and without looking Ianto batted his fingers away and carried on his conversation with Myrtle.
The church filled up slowly – Ianto had, of course, got them there early – and eventually everyone was settled and ready for the service to begin. The boys started fidgeting again, and Ianto leaned forward and whispered a warning that was instantly digested and passed down the row.
The wedding march started up, and everyone stood as one and turned to watch the bride, Eira, walk down the aisle. Her hand was linked through her father’s, who was grinning like a madman and clearly beyond elation. Behind them were the two bridesmaids, carrying little corsages of pretty flowers and wearing deep red dresses. Rhiannon looked beautiful, Jack had to admit, and so did the shorter brunette trailing a little behind her. Neither of them looked as stunning as the bride though, and Jack almost regretfully watched her walk past him. ‘”Drystan” was a lucky sod,’ he thought, as his eyes drifted closer to home and rested on Ianto. He smiled to himself. ‘But I’m luckier.’
The service went without a hitch – apart from a moment of blind panic when the best man was convinced he’d forgotten the rings, only for his own wife to sigh and reach into his pocket and pull out a jewellery box. Jack slipped his hand into Ianto’s and decided to leave it there.
The reception was a much bigger affair. The function room was huge, with one long table around the outside with a few gaps in between so that it was easier to get to and from the dance floor. There were about 200 guests, and all of them seemed to know Ianto. Jack felt a little pushed to the side, but didn’t mind too much since it gave him chance to check out the brunette bridesmaid as she loitered by the punch fountain. He sighed, resigning to the fact he wasn’t going to even talk to her – someone would probably notice if he was flirting with her and from the size of Ianto’s family he didn’t really want to be seen as cheating.
In the corner, the gaggle of brothers that had sat perfectly behaved in front of him in the service were bickering and scrabbling again. Rhiannon was trying desperately to get Ieuan to stop pulling at her hair while a little girl in a pink meringue dress was yanking at her skirt. Taking pity, Jack called to Ianto and nodded in her direction. Ianto took the hint and made his way over calling: “Tarrian, don’t pull on Auntie Rhi’s skirt!”.
Jack felt eyes watching him, and turned to find the brunette bridesmaid staring in his direction. He smiled at her and she looked away, abashed. Jack swivelled back to where he’d last seen Ianto, only to spot a flash of expensive suit disappear under the shouted order of “DOGPILE ON IANTO!”. Ianto was laughing hard, trying in vain to pull one of about ten children off him as others scrambled to climb the heap of bodies. Myrtle wandered over, telling them off with a glass of punch in one hand and giggling out words that died on deaf ears. The kids scrambled off when Ianto shouted “Dogpile on Auntie Myrtle!”, and they migrated on top of their mother and aunt.
“Should have seen that coming.” Rhiannon said to him as he dusted down his suit, still smiling to himself. She pressed a wine glass into his hand, as they turned away in conversation.
A hand touched Jack’s arm, and he turned around to find Brunette Bridesmaid holding some punch out to him. He took it with a smile and a thanks. Noticing she now had name label stuck to her deep red satin gown, he attempted to pronounce it. “Fleur?” he offered.
She laughed. “Fleer. Fflur.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Why can’t you people spell things how they’re pronounced?”
“What makes you so certain the it isn’t the English pronunciation that’s mangled?” she replied. Jack gave a small laugh.
“Fair point. Never thought of it that way.”
“Lots of people don’t. So ... where abouts are you from?”
“All sorts of places.”
“But originally? That accent. It’s American?”
“Sort of.”
Fflur laughed flirtatiously. “Man of mystery, are ya?”
“If you want me to be.” Jack gave her is best sly smile. ‘Stop it.’ Said his internal Jiminy Cricket voice. ‘You promised yourself no. You’re headed for trouble ...’.
Fflur moved a little closer, into his personal space. Jack shifted slightly. “I suppose now would be a good time to mention I’m spoken for?”
“Oh.” She leant more than ‘stepped’ back. “Is she here?”
“I’m with Ianto.” Explained Jack.
“Ianto? Rhiannon’s Ianto?”
“Yes.”
Fflur frowned in obvious confusion. “But ... Rhiannon said he was single now.”
“When did she say that?” asked Jack, incredulous.
“Earlier. She was trying to get us back together, I think ....”
“‘Back’ together?”
Fflur laughed. “We didn’t really share anything. We were barely seventeen, and I’ve only seen him about twice since.”
Ianto had somehow been dragged onto the dance floor and was twirling a middle-aged woman around to “Karma Chameleon” while laughing at a nearby elderly man’s attempt at tap dancing. A significantly fitter old couple were somehow managing to jitterbug. Jack had loved jitterbugging. Maybe he could ask the old lady to dance ...
“So ... what did Rhiannon tell you about Ianto?” he asked Fflur.
“Just that he was different now. More mature. He’d be good for me.”
Jack grunted by way of reply.
“He’s definitely grown into himself. I never thought he’d be – I dunno – so masculine. Broad shoulders and big hands, y’know.” Jack laughed. “Last time I saw him he was a skinny teenager.” They watched him for a moment, before Fflur continued. “He’s still lovely though. Adorable ... almost seems a waste ...” she joked.
Jack laughed and winked. “Not from where I’m standing.”
“How long have you been together?”
“Two and a half years, give or take a month or so.”
“Oh. I never heard.”
“Well, Ianto didn’t exactly tell his mum or Rhiannon until a couple of months ago.”
“Oh.”
They stood together in silence for a couple of moments while they finished their punch. “You wanna dance?” asked Jack as the track changed and “Chain Reaction” started up in the speakers.
“Yeah. Alright.” Said Fflur, taking his offered hand and following him to the dance floor.
Ianto now had a little girl in his arms wearing a white dress with whom he was doing that funny jig-dance thing people do with kids that can’t walk. He noticed Jack coming to the dance floor and managed to dislodge the child, despite a little trouble getting her to let go of his tie. He started to make his way over, then realised he had a partner and nodded in recognition. Turning, he made his way over to the spot Jack had marked with his coat on the table and started taking off his jacket and cufflinks. He rolled up his sleeves and checked the fob watch in his waistcoat pocket before bodily lifting a kid who’d just done a knee slide that was set to collide into the wall. “Don’t do that. You’ll ruin your trousers.” He scolded, then, when out of earshot of other adults bent close and whispered: “If you do it when they turn on the smoke machine there’s less chance of them seeing you.”
Run DMC and Aerosmith had begun playing, and all the now tipsy men were getting up and doing their best air guitar routines. Some were on their knees: some were in true guitar hero positions, with fists in the air and legs spread wide. Ianto was about to go join an arm wrestling tournament that was starting up on the other side of the room, when he properly clocked who Jack was dancing with. Fflur.
He remembered vaguely telling Jack that he could have the bridesmaid that wasn’t Rhiannon, but he hadn’t know then that it was Fflur. He admired her feminine form from a distance, seeing how much of a woman she’d become since he could last remember her. He’d mooned over her for months before finally asking her out, only to end up kissing Bethan Stewart behind the bike sheds a few weeks later. He laughed at the thought of going behind the bike sheds. At his college, they’d been made of green metal and transparent plexi-glass, so hiding behind them was rather pointless. But now he and Fflur had grown up, and life didn’t revolve around timetables and exams and coursework and they’d figured out who they were and what they wanted. Some of his old feelings started to creep back into his stomach, but he told himself it was just lust. Lust from when he was young and innocent and had no idea about real love.
He was suddenly dragged harshly onto the dance floor. The track was changing again and UB40 were beginning their homage to “Red, Red, Wine”. Cousin Myrtle was well and truly intoxicated, pulling him clumsily towards the other dancing people. They hadn’t even got to the speeches yet, and Ianto wondered, as they drunkenly swayed, whether Myrtle would be conscious for long enough to hear them.
The song came to an end, and Ianto managed to shove Myrtle onto her husband and made his way towards Fflur and Jack as the ‘Ghostbusters’ theme tune’s ominous opening chords started to crank up from the speakers.
He tapped her on the shoulder gently. “I do believe this is our song, madam.” He smiled. Fflur laughed and turned to dance with him. Jack asked if anyone wanted punch or wine and went to fetch.
“So ... you’re on the same team now?” Fflur asked as she pulled herself a little closer to him so that he could hear her.
“I’m on both teams.” He said, almost fed up of euphemisms. He decided just to say “bisexual” in people’s faces from now on.
“Well that’s promising.” She said.
“Still a shameless flirt then?”
“Haha, wasn’t I always?”
They were interrupted by Ianto’s brother-in-law. “Alright, Ianto?” he asked. He obviously didn’t care – he was just making conversation. “Mind if I cut in? It’s not like Fflur’s your type, after all ...” He cut between them.
“I do mind, actually.” Said Ianto, giving him a gentle shove away. “This is our song, isn’t it Fflur.”
“Er .. yeah, Alwyn. This is our song.” Fflur gave a weak smile, sensing the tension between the two men.
Alwyn looked a little doubtful. “The Ghostbusters theme?”
“We were very rock’n’roll.” Said Ianto.
“’We?’”
Fflur stepped in. “We had a thing.” She explained, before pulling Ianto’s arm and taking him to another area of the dance floor. “He’s a little edgy, isn’t he?” she said. Ianto grunted. “I suppose he’s the type to be a bit of a homophone.”
Ianto couldn’t hide his snigger. “Homophobe.” He stressed. “A homophone is a word that sounds the same as another but is spelt differently.”
She giggled at her mistake. “Jack gave me too much punch!” she said, playfully batting his arm as the song came to an end and they made their way towards where Jack was waiting with drinks. The three of them sat in silence for while, until the whole room cheered as “Thriller” broke into the soundwaves and all the eighties children sprang to their feet and started drunkenly trying to do the routine – some going the wrong way, some arms meeting faces and some bickering over who got to be Michael Jackson. Fflur went and joined a gaggle of girls who were stood gossiping by the chocolate fountain (which Ianto had decided to avoid in case he ended up doing a Vicar of Dibley). Ianto took the moment to pull Jack’s ear to his mouth and ask him what he’d been desperate to ask him since he’d realised he’d already made moves toward Fflur.
“Please don’t sleep with Fflur.” He said over the noisy music.
“Wasn’t going to.” Said Jack, squeezing Ianto’s thigh. “Decided against it – what with your family being so big I wouldn’t be able to identify which one tried to kill me first, and all.”
Ianto nodded as he put his chin on Jack’s shoulder and held his arms around Jack’s chest. They sat in comfortable silence, watching drunkards, dancers and drunkard dancers meander around the place.
Jack started suddenly, and Ianto put his hands on his shoulders ready to force him to sit down in case he tried to stand. When Jack jumped like that, it was usually because he was about to engage in confrontation. However, he didn’t try and stand. “I’ve just remembered something. Y’know Rhiannon?” he said.
“I think ... yes ... I think I know Rhiannon. Auburn hair, bit skinny – rumour has it we’re closely related? Practically siblings, according to my mam.”
“Yeah ... well ... she kind of told Fflur that you were single, and that you were grown up and mature and then you’d be good for her. Like she was trying to get you two back together.”
Ianto’s lips formed an “Oh” of comprehension. He stood, and told Jack to stay where he was. Ianto began to make his way towards Rhiannon and Alwyn, his fists balled up and his shoulders tense. Jack knew that Ianto was about to lash out, but to be honest he couldn’t blame him. If he went over and tried to stop him, they’d end up kicking the shite out of each other instead. Jack decided he’d rather let him give Rhiannon what for instead of tarnishing his reputation with the wider family.
Jack realised a little too late that it wasn’t Rhiannon Ianto was heading for. It was her husband, Alwyn. Ianto was in his personal space, squared up and threatening. Alwyn wasn’t cowed, which was a bit stupid. Ianto had a temper. It took something big to set it off, but with it came Ianto’s dark side. The only time Ianto had ever really hurt someone was when he’d shot Owen, and that was only because he’d been insulting him personally.
A couple of people had noticed the confrontation over by the side of the room. A few people were muttering and pointing. Jack looked away. He’d seen Alwyn try and cut in between Ianto and Fflur during their dance and the tension was visible from the punch fountain. Whatever was coming to him, he deserved. But then again ... Ianto might get hurt. Jack almost jumped to his feet and made his way over. At the same time, the groom, Drystan had managed to get to them. They’d already started shoving each other and offering threats.
“Take it outside fellas, please. Before Eira sees. It’s our day, remember?”
“Sorry Drystan.” Said Ianto, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ve said what I needed to say anyway.” He turned to leave, almost walking straight into Jack as Alwyn jumped at him. Jack had seen it coming, and simply pushed Ianto out of the way, allowing Alwyn to land on him instead. He stumbled and Alwyn jarred and fell on his knees before Jack.
“Well, well, well ...” tutted Ianto, looking from one man to the other. “This is quite ... homoerotic ...”
Jack laughed, pulling him by the hand back to the dance floor. When they were out of ear shot, he leant close to Ianto’s ear. “He’s not done with you yet ... and that was my line.” He hissed.
Ianto giggled and snaked his arms around Jack’s neck as Coldplay’s “Fix You” began to drift towards them from the speakers. Jack squeezed Ianto’s waist slightly between his own arms. “I really really hate this song.” He sighed.
“Me too.” Agreed Ianto. “But dancing with you is distracting me from Git Brother.” He pulled his arms tighter around Jack’s neck and their foreheads touched as they swayed together.
The next song was Peter Kay and Tony Christie’s ‘Amarillo’ and a long train started around the dance floor that Ianto and Jack opted out of. After that song came the speeches, which were all lovely and well planned. The best man was very, very funny. He told the tale of how Drystan and Eira had met, after Drystan had forgotten he’d just moved to a ground floor flat and opened his curtains one morning to see the most beautiful woman in the world walking down the footpath. She saw him watching her and screamed in terror – and only then did he realise he was stark bollock naked. Two weeks later they bumped into each other in a pub and got talking after Drystan’s rather shoddy apology ... and five years later they were married.
The couple’s first dance was to Take That’s ‘Patience’, and Jack and Ianto were one of the first couples to take to the floor afterwards (and Jack could have sworn, as he pulled Ianto into his arms and leaned their heads together, several middle-to-old-aged women were going ‘awwww’). The next few hours were all slow or romantic songs, and they danced through them all. Their feet ached and they were falling asleep in each other’s arms when they decided to call it a night. They were about to make their way to their part of the table, when ‘You Do Something To Me’ started up.
“We danced to this at Gwen’s wedding.” Said Jack, holding out his hand for one last dance.
“You remember?” asked Ianto, falling back into his embrace.
“Yes. Then after Paul Weller, it was Will Young and then the Scissor Sisters. Who I hate, but ‘Laura’ was an alright song.”
Ianto’s forehead was against his, and he felt him frown. “You hate the Scissor Sisters? I thought you quite liked them.”
“Harold Saxon liked them too. I’ve decided they must be evil.”
Ianto gave a short laugh, before putting his chin back on Jack’s shoulder and humming along to the song in his ear.
“This was the song we first danced to as a couple in front of people.” Said Jack, as the song began to draw to a close. “Does that make it ‘our song’?”
“I suppose.” Yawned Ianto. “We have to go soon. I’m falling asleep on my feet.” Jack grunted his agreement and they huddled tighter before breaking apart again and going to get their coats.
They sought out the bride and groom to say goodbyes and thank yous and good lucks, and as they began to leave, Drystan leaned in close and whispered to Ianto: “Alwyn’s had too much to drink. Watch him.”
Ianto nodded and told him not to worry. He could handle himself. Drystan smiled and Eira told them they could come round and have dinner in their new house any time, but they’d have to get take-away because she couldn’t cook microwave dinners, never mind a meal for several people.
Fflur came over and said her goodbyes, kissing them both on the cheek and whishing them luck and telling them they looked good together. Ianto smiled and hugged her, and they made their way to the exit. Several people had left already, so finding the silver Audi in the sea of blue and white Peugots that were left wasn’t too difficult. Ianto felt a tap on his shoulder.
He turned, and there was Alwyn. Ianto dodged the blow before it came – thanks to experience of fighting with Jack, his reactions were well-honed. Jack yelled out in indignation, running at Alwyn and trying to hold him back. Someone inside must have heard something, because a few people came running out as Ianto threw a punch back at a struggling Alwyn. “Ianto! Don’t!” cried Jack.
“I’m fed up of him. I’m fed up of him being on the constant peripheral of my life. I’m fed up of the way he treats my sister and I’m fed up of the way he treats me.”
Jack was distracted, and Alwyn wriggled free. He threw himself into Ianto, who caught him, spun him and pulled his arm up behind him as he lay in the gravel on the floor. Alwyn barked in pain, using his free arm to pick up a handful of stones and threw them up behind him at Ianto. Ianto’s distraction allowed for him to roll them over, but not before Ianto had managed to get a knee between them. He used his powerful legs to push Alwyn up and off him.
The fight ended with Alwyn pinned to the wall by a hand on his neck. “Stop it Ianto!” Jack shouted for the millionth time. He wasn’t the only one who’d tried to intervene. Several shouting women and a few of the more sober men had tried to shout reasoning at them, but none of them – even Jack – had dared intervene. Ianto was in a blind rage, and word had reached inside that there was a fight on the outside. Jack heard Fflur squeal when she emerged to see what was going on, and she ran straight to Ianto and put a hand on his tense, outstretched arm just as he’d slammed a beaten and bloody Alwyn against the stone wall.
Ianto faltered at the touch, and Jack could just about see the change in his expression as he realised who was touching him as his eyes met hers. Then Jack saw it. That spark of attraction. That connection. That realisation and mutual understanding of it. He turned cold as Ianto listened to her and not him, calming himself and stepping back from Alwyn, who sank to the floor. He’d obviously realised a while ago he was out of his depth and Ianto wasn’t as ‘girly-weak’ as he’d thought. Ianto turned and put his arms around Fflur, pulling her into a hug. It wasn’t the same hug as before. Jack recognised the hug that she’d said goodbye to him with as one between friends. This one was more intimate. He prayed it was all in his head. ‘It probably is,’ said his personal Jiminy Cricket. ‘You’re always so jealous ...’
“Ianto!” he shouted. Ianto started, and turned to him. He gave a small nod to Fflur. Jack practically growled out loud. “Car. Now. Ianto.”
Ianto moved towards him, then paused. He turned to Rhiannon, who was fussing over Alwyn on the floor. “Rhiannon?” he got her attention. She turned to him. She looked a little guilty. “I’m not sorry about this.”
“It’s okay. He started on you.” Said Rhiannon with a weak smile, but couldn’t quite meet his eyes.
“No,” said Ianto. “I’m not sorry for that ...” he indicated the heap of Alwyn on the floor. “... but I’m not sorry for this either ...” He drew his arm back and slapped her. Hard. “I love you.” Said Ianto, as she gasped at her stinging cheek and nursed the hot skin. “But please. Get some fucking sense.”
FIN
N/B.: That best man speech? That was how my aunt and uncle actually met. It was a bit romantic (ish) so I stuck it in.
This chapter is dedicated to:
kikou2011, frakkin_addict, schnuckel, bandgeek01, johnny777, griza, charlotte3006, ianto_x_naomily and everyone else who requested the bitchslap - but especially
goddess_ophelia
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Date: 2009-06-15 09:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-15 09:57 pm (UTC)So staying into the fluffly, I love that they were all coupl-y and dancing together, I would so have gone "awww" with the rest of the women, it's a lovely image indeed.
While I don't like when they are odds with each other, I can absolutely symptathise with Jack, problem is that Ianto has no clue what he just did.
So...*meep*
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Date: 2009-06-15 09:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-15 10:22 pm (UTC):) xx
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Date: 2009-06-15 10:22 pm (UTC)Rhiannon got bitchslapped!
And Alwyn got the crap kicked out of him!
Love this chapter
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Date: 2009-06-15 10:29 pm (UTC)Awwww!!!! Poor Jack's jealous! Ianto needs to show him some major loving. ;)
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Date: 2009-06-15 11:05 pm (UTC)Loved it.
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Date: 2009-06-15 11:51 pm (UTC)That's the bitchslap heard around the world, or at least Cardiff :)
Nicole
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Date: 2009-06-16 12:22 am (UTC)When this is filmed, I volunteer to be one of the ladies that goes "Awwww..."
Excellent chapter. I've always thought that volatile Jack has a big possessive streak. If I ever get up the courage to post my own fic, I intend to explore that aspect of his character. I hope Ianto knows what to do to reassure him.
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Date: 2009-06-16 12:32 am (UTC)2 Aerosmith references? And just when I thought I couldn't love you any more!
There aren't words for how awesome this series is!
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Date: 2009-06-16 04:06 am (UTC)I loved the fluff but Ianto fucked up in the last bit. I wont blame Jack if he is pissed off and hurt...
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Date: 2009-06-16 04:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-16 06:27 am (UTC)But I found them darn it! And now I am as happy as happy can be. Yay fic!
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Date: 2009-06-16 07:43 am (UTC)I more than agree.
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Date: 2009-06-16 07:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-16 07:48 am (UTC)I hates the books. I hates the film. I've been forced to read the first one, and I've been dragged to the movie and I just can't stand it. Then again ... I'm not a fan of vampire fiction. I find it way way way way way too cheesy. I don't mind Buffy too much - but that had the Boreanaz and the Marsters in it ...
Pattenson or Patterson or whatever he's called does nothing for me either. I prefer aliens. HEH.
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Date: 2009-06-16 08:46 am (UTC)And S. Meyer? Well she just likes ruining all that doesn't she? She has killed vampire lore. KILLED it.
No I'm not angry can you tell?
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Date: 2009-06-17 07:29 pm (UTC)poor jack is not a happy camper.
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Date: 2009-06-16 05:42 pm (UTC)but poor Jack!!
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Date: 2009-06-18 02:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-19 05:58 pm (UTC)It was very good! How come that such an intelligent guy have such a stupid sister?
bye
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Date: 2009-09-15 06:34 pm (UTC)I can't remember why *frowns*, I hate my memory :(. Was it because of me saying I hated Rhiannon? I think I remember saying that :/
Anyway, I loved this chapter. I felt sorry for poor Jack though because of the whole last scene with Fflur *hugs Jack*
*shudders* I never could stand the Scissor Sisters but after Series 3 final three episodes I've just hated them even more than before.
Hannah x
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Date: 2009-09-28 05:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-28 10:42 am (UTC)Also, if he was a timelord, he wouldn't be able to see the fob watch so ... *creepy mystery music*
I'm glad you learnt some Welsh names! There aren't enough out there!
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Date: 2009-09-28 10:38 pm (UTC)