Silver Service | 9
Sep. 17th, 2009 03:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a_silver_storyTitle: Silver Service
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
a_silver_story
Chapter: 9/?
Genre: AU, Romance, Angsty, fluffy
Rating: NC17 / 18
Pairings: Main Pairing is Jack/Ianto. Also includes Ianto/Martha, Ianto/Tosh friendship, Ten/Tosh, Mickey/Martha (mentioned)
Warnings: M.M, rentboy!Ianto, Alternate Universe
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. Now pass the retcon ...
Summary: Started as a PWP, but since it's me (sorry folks!) and I really can't do things by halves, it grew and grew and grew (and not in an innuendous sort of way). Doctor Smith owns a posh Cardiff hotel, and the respectable Sixth Earl of Boeshane is coming to stay - and he brings with him some very specific demands.
The story follows Ianto from being born, meeting Toshiko and them running away together to the city, right up until Ianto is taken to work in the Doctor's hotel as a 'service' butler for - you guessed it - Jack.
Everyone's fave OTP ensues. BOO YA!
Torchwood Index/Masterlist
FIRST PART | Chapter 1
He was running. Running as fast as he could, his sharp breath stinging his lungs and his tie whipping around his face. He had a vague memory of where to go – the rest of the way he navigated by landmarks and buildings, occasionally having to double back or take a different turn. Twice he circled himself.
Eventually he got there, almost collapsing against the door, forgetting he no longer had a key. The doorman recognized him – the doorman ... what was his name again? Had he ever asked? Had it been offered? Tumbling into the foyer, he gasped and panted, nearly falling onto the floor because of his exhausted legs. “M-M-Martha. I need to see Martha ...”
The doorman bellowed for Martha, and the sound of a door shutting and feet padding down the landing and the stairs indicated her whereabouts. She appeared at the bottom of the stairs, frowning, then seeing who it was her expression changed to one of surprise. “Ianto?”
“Martha ... you ... you have to run away ...” He practically fell into her, grasping her shoulders. “You need a new name ... new home ... you need to ... you need to-”
“What?” she exclaimed.
“I overheard something today ... your mother –”
“My mother is dead.”
“She’s not. She’s ... she’s not ... she’s not a good person ... you have to ... you have to run ...”
“I don’t understand.”
“There’s a whole ... a conspiracy. She couldn’t have married him if she had a child ... she had to-”
“My mother died when I was four, Ianto.”
“Her name is Adeiola.”
Martha stared at him in shock, almost taking a step back. “What?”
“Her name is Adeiola. She looks exactly like you ... but older. And ... Jack saw you ... he said nothing then, but ... he confronted her. Now she’s found you ...”
“Will you just tell me what’s going on?” Martha nearly yelled at him, tears welling up in her eyes at the mention of her mother.
“Adeiola Jones died when you were four – the year Lord Jake Simmonds took a wife of the same name.”
“Ianto ...”
“He wouldn’t have accepted a step-daughter ...”
“... Ianto ...”
“She had to be rid of you.”
“How dare you say that!” Martha hissed. “How dare you! I went to her funeral! I stood by her grave!”
“A grave filled with sand! I’ve met her ... I should have told you ... she ... I was told I couldn’t say anything.” Ianto bit his lip, searching Martha’s shocked and angered face. “I ... I didn’t know about anything certain until this morning ... and I came straight here.” he finished quietly.
Martha stared at him. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Ianto. I don’t believe you ... I can’t believe you. Having my mother back ... that’s ... that’s too much to hope for ...” Her voice cracked and she fought the urge to turn away and bury her face in her hands.
“No ... it’s not ... she’s ... she’s not a nice person, Martha. She ... now that Jack knows about you ... she needs to ... to ‘remove’ you.”
Ianto became aware of movement upstairs, and if he craned his neck he could see the faces of Toshiko, Owen and Gwen (and Rhys) poking over the top of the banisters from their respective landings.
“You know nothing about my mother. She was good, and kind.” Martha said, low and dangerous.
“Martha ... please. She’s different. Corrupted. Greedy. She’ll do anything to keep her husband and her lifestyle ... you have to run away! If not, then ... find somewhere safer than here ... she knows about here ...” Ianto begged.
Martha bit her lip, angry tears threatening to overwhelm her. “We’ll go to my room, and you can tell me everything. Start to finish.” She turned and began to climb the stairs, and Ianto fought back his exasperation, following her. Owen, Toshiko, Gwen and Rhys followed her, too. She didn’t seem to mind, pretty much inviting them all to sit on her bed to listen to Ianto while Rhys went to fetch tea and biscuits. Ianto frowned at them all.
“No Diane?” he asked.
“She ... left.” Gwen said, avoiding side-long glances at Owen and Toshiko.
“Oh okay ...” He turned to Martha. “You sure you want a full audience for this – even Williams?”
“Rhys is pretty much a fixture now.” beamed Gwen. Ianto raised his eyebrows but decided not to ask.
“Okay ... so ... well ... this morning ....”
~*~
Ianto woke up, hearing voices outside of his room. Jack was still sleeping, but with a gentle shake he opened two bleary, blue eyes and groaned. Ianto put his finger to his lips, shushing him and indicating the door. The two of them crept towards it, recognizing one voice to be that of Adeiola. The other was one that neither of them recognized, but it was clearly male. Maybe Scottish, but losing his accent to the English.
“... know, ma’am. Perhaps your husband is out.”
“Then why doesn’t my key work? We can’t discuss anything out here – his little whore will hear and go telling.” spat Adeiola.
Ianto's insides clenched at being called Jack’s ‘whore’, and he gave him a sidelong glance. Jack didn’t return it, but placed a comforting arm around his waist as they sat by the door.
“With all due respect, my Lady, it is three in the morning – and I am very, very busy.”
“Fine. We’re agreed then. Half a million pounds – all in cash.” she replied, dropping her voice to a whisper.
“The name of the hit, and the location?”
“The patron Saint of Butlers. Thirty-third house on man’s favourite street. Understand?”
Ianto flinched at her curt ‘Understand?’, seeing the similarity between husband and wife – between his Jack and this woman – come to sharp focus through one, simple word. He committed the phrases ‘Patron Saint of Butlers’ and ‘man’s favourite street’ to memory, deciding to check up on them later.
“I will see you when the task is done. Tomorrow night, then, my Lady.”
The man’s footsteps padded almost soundlessly away, and Adeiola’s heeled shoes clopped up and down the corridor a couple of times. She stopped outside Jack’s room again, hammering on the door and shouting him, calling expletives and rattling the handle.
Jack removed his arm from Ianto's waist. “Get back into bed, and stay there.” he told him quietly. They rose, Jack waiting until Ianto was settled under the duvets before opening the door and rubbing his eyes. “What? What do you want, woman?”
“What are you doing in there?” Ianto heard her demand, her voice becoming muffled as the door closed.
“Someone broke into the suite. It’s a complete mess.” Jack explained, yawning sleepily. “Besides, the company’s better.”
“I wouldn’t know ... you won’t let me try it.” she snapped in reply.
“I don’t want you spoiling him.” Jack retorted.
“I think you’ve damaged him enough yourself.”
“Whatever. Is there a reason why you’re here and not at the hospital?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“I gathered that.” Jack replied curtly. “What do you want to see me for?”
“Because you’re my husband, and I love you.”
Jack gave a bitter laugh. “You never loved me. You loved my money and my power.”
“And you love your power and your rentboys.” Adeiola replied, her voice sounding overly-sweet and dripping with sarcasm. “As long as we ignore each other, we get on fine.”
“Not anymore. You’re finished, Addy. I don’t have to keep you any longer.”
“Lisa will hate you.” she spat. “She’ll never forgive you for disgracing me.”
“It’s your own fault – if you’d have told at least her about Martha ... well ... maybe she’d be able to forgive you for being disgraced ...”
Ianto froze at the sudden mention of Martha, straining his ears to hear the conversation properly.
“I’m her mother! I will do what’s necessary for her! If she kne-”
“You’re Martha’s mother as well.” Jack challenged, and Ianto's jaw would have hit the floor if he’d have been upright. “Would you do what was necessary for her?”
“I already am.” Adeiola replied curtly.
Ianto didn’t need to be able to see Jack to know that an eyebrow had been raised. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“What is it you deem ‘necessary’?”
“I’m letting her go.”
“... letting her go.” Jack repeated.
“Yes. Saint Martha – leaving me forever. And she won’t trouble us again.” Adeiola started walking away, her heels clicking lightly on the floor. As she waited for the lift, she turned to call back to Jack. “Oh – and once she has gone, you’ll no longer have the grounds to divorce me honourably.”
Ianto's stomach flipped at the word ‘divorce’ – wondering, selfishly, if that meant he would be able to have Jack to himself – and then it tightened again when he re-thought her sentence through.
“Funny old world, isn’t it?” Jack replied sarcastically. There was the ping of the lift, and Jack flung open the bedroom door, slamming it shut behind him and turning on the lights. “Did you hear that?” he asked, hesitantly.
“I could hear muffled voices ... nothing ... proper ...” lied Ianto. Jack nodded.
“Good ... good ...” he muttered. “Here ... we need to ... what Saint was it Adeiola spoke about before? To the stranger?”
“The Patron Saint of Butlers.” Ianto recited, climbing off the bed and walking over to where Jack was pacing, waiting for his laptop to load. He punched in the password so hard, Ianto thought he might leave an indentation in the table. “She called Martha a Saint ...” he pondered aloud.
“I know ... I think ... that won’t have been an accident ...” Jack stopped mid sentence. “I thought you said you didn’t hear anything?”
“You were muttering to yourself.” Ianto lied, then quickly got back on subject. “What was she talking about? With that man?”
Jack turned to the laptop, pulling up two chairs and indicating Ianto sit on one. “A ‘hit’ means ... an assassination. The target of an assassination.”
He could have sworn his heart stopped beating, his blood turning to ice as his stomach dropped. “She’s gone ... she’s gone mad ...”
“Mmm.” Jack agreed, his face grim. “Greed, power, money – she doesn’t care anymore. She’s not ... she’s not the young woman I fell in love with ... at least, the woman who she was pretending to be when I fell in love with her. I mean: she left her four year old daughter for money!” he fumed.
Without thinking, Ianto stood behind Jack and began to massage his shoulders and neck, gently working the knots out with his thumbs. “Mmm ... feels good ...” murmured Jack, tipping his head back into Ianto's big hands. His fingers laced through the smooth locks of Jack’s hair, and he stooped low to kiss his head, cheek and brush gently against his lips. Jack turned the office chair, pulling Ianto down onto his lap, wrapping him in his strong, tanned arms, bringing their lips together and pushing his tongue deep into Ianto's mou –
~*~
“Erm ...” interrupted Rhys. “You don’t need to tell us this bit ....”
“Sorry ...” murmured Ianto. “Got a bit ... carried away ... ahem ... onwards ...”
~*~
Ianto pulled back, remembering himself. “Oi. Concentrate.” he chastised, standing from Jack’s lap and spinning him back to the laptop. Jack Googled the phrase ‘Patron Saint of Butlers’ first.
“Hmmm. All seems ... irrelevant.” he said, frowning at the results. Ianto cast his eye over them, seeing several Saints but none of which appertained to butlers or servants. “I’ll try ‘Saint Martha’ ...” Jack eventually sighed, hesitating with his hands over the keys. “What if ... what if ... what if Saint Martha is ... y’know ...”
“Just Google it, Jack.” Ianto urged.
Jack’s fingers pressed heavily at the keys, and the results that came up making them both tense for a few seconds. Jack clicked the link for the Wikipedia entry, scanning the right hand column for the basic info. “Saint Martha ...” he read. “Patronage ... butlers; cooks; dieticians; domestic servants; homemakers; hotel-keepers ...”
He fell silent, then turned to Ianto. “First light, you have to run to your old house. You need to get Martha to run away – change her name, whatever. She needs to be as far away as possible by tonight.”
“Can’t you help her?”
“I need to negotiate a cancellation of the contract with Adeiola.”
“But ... Jack –”
“No ‘buts’, Ianto. In three and a half hours, it should be light enough ...”
He swallowed heavily. “Okay ... but ... what do we do until then?”
Jack smirked, spinning his chair and spreading his legs wide. “We do me ...”
Ianto rolled his eyes, but dropped to his knees anywa –
~*~
“Stop!” Rhys squeaked, looking a little pink.
Toshiko, Owen, Gwen and Ianto all turned to Martha. “Well?” asked Ianto.
“I ... I don’t believe you ...”
“Why would I make this up? Saint Martha – Patron Saint of Butlers. And this house: number thirty three on a man’s favourite street!”
Martha bit her lip. “I can’t take the chance, can I?”
They all shook their heads and murmured their agreement.
“Okay ...” she decided, her voice cracking and shaky. “What should I do?”
~*~*~*~
Ianto passed the wad of cash through the taxi window, trying to ignore how terrified Martha looked, her eyes red rimmed and her usually glowing skin dull from fear. “This is from Jack. he’s technically your step-father so ... he thinks he owes you ...”
“He’s far too young to be my step-father!” she tried to joke, resulting in a few tears leaking from her big, brown eyes.
“Adeiola’s older than him, from what I can tell.” shrugged Ianto. “Um ... there’s something else I made Jack do ... well ... persuaded him to see my point of view on ...” He passed an envelope through the window, too. It had Martha’s name on it in Jack’s writing. She made to slip a thumb under the flap, but Ianto stopped her. “Don’t open it until you get out of the city. Promise?”
“Promise.” she agreed, sniffing.
Ianto moved to the front window, telling the taxi driver where to take her. He stepped back. “Bye Martha.” he said, ignoring the daggers stabbing the back of his eyes that tried to bring forth tears. The others were all stood around him, Rhys with his arm around Gwen and Toshiko folded into Owen’s embrace. Ianto stood alone.
“Wait!” cried Martha before the cabbie could start moving the vehicle. She hurried out of the car, hesitated in front of Ianto, then cupped the back of his head and pressed their lips together. Ianto reacted as little as possible, but she didn’t try to push her tongue forward or insist on anything more. She stepped back, and he gave her an odd look.
“Well ... even Owen’s had a go!” she shrugged.
“Not as big a go as you ...” Owen reminded her.
She smiled at Ianto as they both remembered – for the first time, with no guilt – how good it had felt to be together, naked and ... and Ianto realized – there and then, as she was climbing back into the taxi, and as it was pulling away and taking her away from him – that he had been in love with Martha. Not anymore, but he had been. Puppy love, he knew. Not passionate or deep: comfortable, and unrequited – but he had still loved her.
He stared after the car until it was out of view, and only reluctantly turned away from the spot where it had vanished.
“And six becomes three ...” sighed Owen. “Diane, Martha, Ianto ... all the pretty ones get to leave.”
“You’ll be next, Tosh.” winked Ianto, trying to lighten the mood. Toshiko smiled weakly, turning her head into Owen’s neck as more tears ran down her cheeks.
“Ahem!” Gwen cleared her throat.
“Oh ... and then you, Gwellian.” he smiled nervously.
“Actually ...” she grinned, waggling her left hand at him. He noticed a shiny rock on a gold band sitting on her wedding finger. “Me and Rhys!” she beamed. “That’s why he’s practically living here! Making sure Sarah Jane doesn’t try and do what she did with y- oh. Um ... with you ...” she finished, a little clumsily.
“Oh ... er ... congratulations.” Ianto smiled, hugging her as she threw herself at him. He managed to prise her off, then turned to speak. “I have to go.” he told the others sullenly. “The Earl is moving on soon. We’re leaving Cardiff in a couple of weeks, so I’m allowed to come and visit when I want – and I will, and far more often that I have been doing – and I’ll bring you all presents and stuff.”
“I’ll have a Porsche 911.” Owen grinned.
“You can have a smack round the arse with a lead pole.” Ianto scowled. “I ... I’ve got to walk back so ... yeah ... I’m gonna go.”
~*~*~*~
The lift seemed to be taking forever to arrive, and only because he wanted it to get there so badly. Lucy Saxon was chatting animatedly to one of the receptionists in the foyer, and he knew it would only be a matter of moments before the bloody woman recognized him and came over for a ‘chit-chat’. The lift pinged, and he stepped inside, jabbing the ‘Door Close’ button as she waved at him and began to make her way over. He pretended to try and hold the lift, but quickly pressed his floor button, inserted his key card into the security slot and began his ascent, breathing a sigh of relief.
Entering Jack’s suite, he shivered violently. The window had only just been replaced, and the room was still cold from the gale-force winds that had battered through it all night. Jack was chatting the Doctor in the middle of the room, arms folded. The Doctor was apologizing about the lack of security, and saying that Jack was not to blame and that the hotel would cover the costs. Jack was just accepting it, not really involved in the conversation.
Ianto frowned, not having thought the Doctor to be a push-over before. He did, however, seem very eager to please Jack and ensure his happiness one hundred per cent of the time. Taking a deep breath, Ianto stepped forward. “Would sir like a cup of tea?” he offered.
“No thank you, Mr. Jones. I was just leaving.” smiled the Doctor, though he seemed a little pale and drawn. He showed himself out, seemingly not able to leave quick enough.
“How did it go with your wife?” Ianto asked gently, and Jack raised his eyes to him slowly.
“She’ll call off the contract if I agree not to divorce her.” he said flatly.
“You’re only married on paper.” Ianto said soothingly, moving closer to him. “You hardly have to spend time with her – you could send her to live in another country and your marriage would be no different ...”
Jack made the move closer this time, pulling Ianto into a tight hug. “She’s a parasite. I hate her. Most of the time ... but ... sometimes ... there’s like ... the ghost of my wife ... there in her eyes. The woman she used to be. The woman I wanted to be married to.”
Ianto reciprocated the embrace, pressing a kiss to Jack’s neck. He didn’t know why he said what he did next, and he didn’t really think much about whether or not he should or shouldn’t have spoken the words aloud, especially to Jack. But he said it anyway. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll take care of you. Always.”
Jack stilled in his arms, then leaned back from him, staring into his eyes. They burned blue with something Ianto couldn’t describe, before flickering closed as Jack leaned forward and kissed him, hard. Ianto felt like he was being devoured and possessed, claimed and marked by Jack’s tongue. His knees felt weak, the butterflies in his stomach turning to dancing swans that seemed to want to burst out of him through his pounding heart. His nerves tingled where Jack touched him – and Jack was touching him everywhere, his hands seemingly covering all of his body at once and creating sensations Ianto hadn’t felt before. They broke apart, panting, and Ianto stumbled slightly, falling back into Jack’s arms.
“Make love to me again ...” he whispered.
~*~*~*~
“You are now leaving Cardiff.” declared the road sign, and Martha leaned back in her seat. She glanced down at the envelope in her hands, reading her name, then turning it over and slipping her thumb under the opening. Inside was a single card, and when she turned it over she nearly wept with joy, then bitterness as she knew she would probably never get to thank Ianto – or his Earl – for the gift they had given her.
FIN
I'm not gonna go on about it - or get all big headed - but if you type 'rentboy!ianto' into Google, my journal comes up as the first result.
Not only is this a testament to my apparent greatness, it is also a reminder for me that OMFG I LOVE YOU GUYS! I'VE LIKE ... KINDA ACHEIVED SOMETHING because of your collective need for smut and my all-too-willing urge to provide it [with plot]. Thanks again, loyal Minions!
Next Part | Previous Part | Torchwood Index | Request a Convo/Prose Fic
Author:
a_silver_storyChapter: 9/?
Genre: AU, Romance, Angsty, fluffy
Rating: NC17 / 18
Pairings: Main Pairing is Jack/Ianto. Also includes Ianto/Martha, Ianto/Tosh friendship, Ten/Tosh, Mickey/Martha (mentioned)
Warnings: M.M, rentboy!Ianto, Alternate Universe
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. Now pass the retcon ...
Summary: Started as a PWP, but since it's me (sorry folks!) and I really can't do things by halves, it grew and grew and grew (and not in an innuendous sort of way). Doctor Smith owns a posh Cardiff hotel, and the respectable Sixth Earl of Boeshane is coming to stay - and he brings with him some very specific demands.
The story follows Ianto from being born, meeting Toshiko and them running away together to the city, right up until Ianto is taken to work in the Doctor's hotel as a 'service' butler for - you guessed it - Jack.
Everyone's fave OTP ensues. BOO YA!
Torchwood Index/Masterlist
FIRST PART | Chapter 1
He was running. Running as fast as he could, his sharp breath stinging his lungs and his tie whipping around his face. He had a vague memory of where to go – the rest of the way he navigated by landmarks and buildings, occasionally having to double back or take a different turn. Twice he circled himself.
Eventually he got there, almost collapsing against the door, forgetting he no longer had a key. The doorman recognized him – the doorman ... what was his name again? Had he ever asked? Had it been offered? Tumbling into the foyer, he gasped and panted, nearly falling onto the floor because of his exhausted legs. “M-M-Martha. I need to see Martha ...”
The doorman bellowed for Martha, and the sound of a door shutting and feet padding down the landing and the stairs indicated her whereabouts. She appeared at the bottom of the stairs, frowning, then seeing who it was her expression changed to one of surprise. “Ianto?”
“Martha ... you ... you have to run away ...” He practically fell into her, grasping her shoulders. “You need a new name ... new home ... you need to ... you need to-”
“What?” she exclaimed.
“I overheard something today ... your mother –”
“My mother is dead.”
“She’s not. She’s ... she’s not ... she’s not a good person ... you have to ... you have to run ...”
“I don’t understand.”
“There’s a whole ... a conspiracy. She couldn’t have married him if she had a child ... she had to-”
“My mother died when I was four, Ianto.”
“Her name is Adeiola.”
Martha stared at him in shock, almost taking a step back. “What?”
“Her name is Adeiola. She looks exactly like you ... but older. And ... Jack saw you ... he said nothing then, but ... he confronted her. Now she’s found you ...”
“Will you just tell me what’s going on?” Martha nearly yelled at him, tears welling up in her eyes at the mention of her mother.
“Adeiola Jones died when you were four – the year Lord Jake Simmonds took a wife of the same name.”
“Ianto ...”
“He wouldn’t have accepted a step-daughter ...”
“... Ianto ...”
“She had to be rid of you.”
“How dare you say that!” Martha hissed. “How dare you! I went to her funeral! I stood by her grave!”
“A grave filled with sand! I’ve met her ... I should have told you ... she ... I was told I couldn’t say anything.” Ianto bit his lip, searching Martha’s shocked and angered face. “I ... I didn’t know about anything certain until this morning ... and I came straight here.” he finished quietly.
Martha stared at him. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Ianto. I don’t believe you ... I can’t believe you. Having my mother back ... that’s ... that’s too much to hope for ...” Her voice cracked and she fought the urge to turn away and bury her face in her hands.
“No ... it’s not ... she’s ... she’s not a nice person, Martha. She ... now that Jack knows about you ... she needs to ... to ‘remove’ you.”
Ianto became aware of movement upstairs, and if he craned his neck he could see the faces of Toshiko, Owen and Gwen (and Rhys) poking over the top of the banisters from their respective landings.
“You know nothing about my mother. She was good, and kind.” Martha said, low and dangerous.
“Martha ... please. She’s different. Corrupted. Greedy. She’ll do anything to keep her husband and her lifestyle ... you have to run away! If not, then ... find somewhere safer than here ... she knows about here ...” Ianto begged.
Martha bit her lip, angry tears threatening to overwhelm her. “We’ll go to my room, and you can tell me everything. Start to finish.” She turned and began to climb the stairs, and Ianto fought back his exasperation, following her. Owen, Toshiko, Gwen and Rhys followed her, too. She didn’t seem to mind, pretty much inviting them all to sit on her bed to listen to Ianto while Rhys went to fetch tea and biscuits. Ianto frowned at them all.
“No Diane?” he asked.
“She ... left.” Gwen said, avoiding side-long glances at Owen and Toshiko.
“Oh okay ...” He turned to Martha. “You sure you want a full audience for this – even Williams?”
“Rhys is pretty much a fixture now.” beamed Gwen. Ianto raised his eyebrows but decided not to ask.
“Okay ... so ... well ... this morning ....”
Ianto woke up, hearing voices outside of his room. Jack was still sleeping, but with a gentle shake he opened two bleary, blue eyes and groaned. Ianto put his finger to his lips, shushing him and indicating the door. The two of them crept towards it, recognizing one voice to be that of Adeiola. The other was one that neither of them recognized, but it was clearly male. Maybe Scottish, but losing his accent to the English.
“... know, ma’am. Perhaps your husband is out.”
“Then why doesn’t my key work? We can’t discuss anything out here – his little whore will hear and go telling.” spat Adeiola.
Ianto's insides clenched at being called Jack’s ‘whore’, and he gave him a sidelong glance. Jack didn’t return it, but placed a comforting arm around his waist as they sat by the door.
“With all due respect, my Lady, it is three in the morning – and I am very, very busy.”
“Fine. We’re agreed then. Half a million pounds – all in cash.” she replied, dropping her voice to a whisper.
“The name of the hit, and the location?”
“The patron Saint of Butlers. Thirty-third house on man’s favourite street. Understand?”
Ianto flinched at her curt ‘Understand?’, seeing the similarity between husband and wife – between his Jack and this woman – come to sharp focus through one, simple word. He committed the phrases ‘Patron Saint of Butlers’ and ‘man’s favourite street’ to memory, deciding to check up on them later.
“I will see you when the task is done. Tomorrow night, then, my Lady.”
The man’s footsteps padded almost soundlessly away, and Adeiola’s heeled shoes clopped up and down the corridor a couple of times. She stopped outside Jack’s room again, hammering on the door and shouting him, calling expletives and rattling the handle.
Jack removed his arm from Ianto's waist. “Get back into bed, and stay there.” he told him quietly. They rose, Jack waiting until Ianto was settled under the duvets before opening the door and rubbing his eyes. “What? What do you want, woman?”
“What are you doing in there?” Ianto heard her demand, her voice becoming muffled as the door closed.
“Someone broke into the suite. It’s a complete mess.” Jack explained, yawning sleepily. “Besides, the company’s better.”
“I wouldn’t know ... you won’t let me try it.” she snapped in reply.
“I don’t want you spoiling him.” Jack retorted.
“I think you’ve damaged him enough yourself.”
“Whatever. Is there a reason why you’re here and not at the hospital?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“I gathered that.” Jack replied curtly. “What do you want to see me for?”
“Because you’re my husband, and I love you.”
Jack gave a bitter laugh. “You never loved me. You loved my money and my power.”
“And you love your power and your rentboys.” Adeiola replied, her voice sounding overly-sweet and dripping with sarcasm. “As long as we ignore each other, we get on fine.”
“Not anymore. You’re finished, Addy. I don’t have to keep you any longer.”
“Lisa will hate you.” she spat. “She’ll never forgive you for disgracing me.”
“It’s your own fault – if you’d have told at least her about Martha ... well ... maybe she’d be able to forgive you for being disgraced ...”
Ianto froze at the sudden mention of Martha, straining his ears to hear the conversation properly.
“I’m her mother! I will do what’s necessary for her! If she kne-”
“You’re Martha’s mother as well.” Jack challenged, and Ianto's jaw would have hit the floor if he’d have been upright. “Would you do what was necessary for her?”
“I already am.” Adeiola replied curtly.
Ianto didn’t need to be able to see Jack to know that an eyebrow had been raised. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“What is it you deem ‘necessary’?”
“I’m letting her go.”
“... letting her go.” Jack repeated.
“Yes. Saint Martha – leaving me forever. And she won’t trouble us again.” Adeiola started walking away, her heels clicking lightly on the floor. As she waited for the lift, she turned to call back to Jack. “Oh – and once she has gone, you’ll no longer have the grounds to divorce me honourably.”
Ianto's stomach flipped at the word ‘divorce’ – wondering, selfishly, if that meant he would be able to have Jack to himself – and then it tightened again when he re-thought her sentence through.
“Funny old world, isn’t it?” Jack replied sarcastically. There was the ping of the lift, and Jack flung open the bedroom door, slamming it shut behind him and turning on the lights. “Did you hear that?” he asked, hesitantly.
“I could hear muffled voices ... nothing ... proper ...” lied Ianto. Jack nodded.
“Good ... good ...” he muttered. “Here ... we need to ... what Saint was it Adeiola spoke about before? To the stranger?”
“The Patron Saint of Butlers.” Ianto recited, climbing off the bed and walking over to where Jack was pacing, waiting for his laptop to load. He punched in the password so hard, Ianto thought he might leave an indentation in the table. “She called Martha a Saint ...” he pondered aloud.
“I know ... I think ... that won’t have been an accident ...” Jack stopped mid sentence. “I thought you said you didn’t hear anything?”
“You were muttering to yourself.” Ianto lied, then quickly got back on subject. “What was she talking about? With that man?”
Jack turned to the laptop, pulling up two chairs and indicating Ianto sit on one. “A ‘hit’ means ... an assassination. The target of an assassination.”
He could have sworn his heart stopped beating, his blood turning to ice as his stomach dropped. “She’s gone ... she’s gone mad ...”
“Mmm.” Jack agreed, his face grim. “Greed, power, money – she doesn’t care anymore. She’s not ... she’s not the young woman I fell in love with ... at least, the woman who she was pretending to be when I fell in love with her. I mean: she left her four year old daughter for money!” he fumed.
Without thinking, Ianto stood behind Jack and began to massage his shoulders and neck, gently working the knots out with his thumbs. “Mmm ... feels good ...” murmured Jack, tipping his head back into Ianto's big hands. His fingers laced through the smooth locks of Jack’s hair, and he stooped low to kiss his head, cheek and brush gently against his lips. Jack turned the office chair, pulling Ianto down onto his lap, wrapping him in his strong, tanned arms, bringing their lips together and pushing his tongue deep into Ianto's mou –
“Erm ...” interrupted Rhys. “You don’t need to tell us this bit ....”
“Sorry ...” murmured Ianto. “Got a bit ... carried away ... ahem ... onwards ...”
Ianto pulled back, remembering himself. “Oi. Concentrate.” he chastised, standing from Jack’s lap and spinning him back to the laptop. Jack Googled the phrase ‘Patron Saint of Butlers’ first.
“Hmmm. All seems ... irrelevant.” he said, frowning at the results. Ianto cast his eye over them, seeing several Saints but none of which appertained to butlers or servants. “I’ll try ‘Saint Martha’ ...” Jack eventually sighed, hesitating with his hands over the keys. “What if ... what if ... what if Saint Martha is ... y’know ...”
“Just Google it, Jack.” Ianto urged.
Jack’s fingers pressed heavily at the keys, and the results that came up making them both tense for a few seconds. Jack clicked the link for the Wikipedia entry, scanning the right hand column for the basic info. “Saint Martha ...” he read. “Patronage ... butlers; cooks; dieticians; domestic servants; homemakers; hotel-keepers ...”
He fell silent, then turned to Ianto. “First light, you have to run to your old house. You need to get Martha to run away – change her name, whatever. She needs to be as far away as possible by tonight.”
“Can’t you help her?”
“I need to negotiate a cancellation of the contract with Adeiola.”
“But ... Jack –”
“No ‘buts’, Ianto. In three and a half hours, it should be light enough ...”
He swallowed heavily. “Okay ... but ... what do we do until then?”
Jack smirked, spinning his chair and spreading his legs wide. “We do me ...”
Ianto rolled his eyes, but dropped to his knees anywa –
“Stop!” Rhys squeaked, looking a little pink.
Toshiko, Owen, Gwen and Ianto all turned to Martha. “Well?” asked Ianto.
“I ... I don’t believe you ...”
“Why would I make this up? Saint Martha – Patron Saint of Butlers. And this house: number thirty three on a man’s favourite street!”
Martha bit her lip. “I can’t take the chance, can I?”
They all shook their heads and murmured their agreement.
“Okay ...” she decided, her voice cracking and shaky. “What should I do?”
Ianto passed the wad of cash through the taxi window, trying to ignore how terrified Martha looked, her eyes red rimmed and her usually glowing skin dull from fear. “This is from Jack. he’s technically your step-father so ... he thinks he owes you ...”
“He’s far too young to be my step-father!” she tried to joke, resulting in a few tears leaking from her big, brown eyes.
“Adeiola’s older than him, from what I can tell.” shrugged Ianto. “Um ... there’s something else I made Jack do ... well ... persuaded him to see my point of view on ...” He passed an envelope through the window, too. It had Martha’s name on it in Jack’s writing. She made to slip a thumb under the flap, but Ianto stopped her. “Don’t open it until you get out of the city. Promise?”
“Promise.” she agreed, sniffing.
Ianto moved to the front window, telling the taxi driver where to take her. He stepped back. “Bye Martha.” he said, ignoring the daggers stabbing the back of his eyes that tried to bring forth tears. The others were all stood around him, Rhys with his arm around Gwen and Toshiko folded into Owen’s embrace. Ianto stood alone.
“Wait!” cried Martha before the cabbie could start moving the vehicle. She hurried out of the car, hesitated in front of Ianto, then cupped the back of his head and pressed their lips together. Ianto reacted as little as possible, but she didn’t try to push her tongue forward or insist on anything more. She stepped back, and he gave her an odd look.
“Well ... even Owen’s had a go!” she shrugged.
“Not as big a go as you ...” Owen reminded her.
She smiled at Ianto as they both remembered – for the first time, with no guilt – how good it had felt to be together, naked and ... and Ianto realized – there and then, as she was climbing back into the taxi, and as it was pulling away and taking her away from him – that he had been in love with Martha. Not anymore, but he had been. Puppy love, he knew. Not passionate or deep: comfortable, and unrequited – but he had still loved her.
He stared after the car until it was out of view, and only reluctantly turned away from the spot where it had vanished.
“And six becomes three ...” sighed Owen. “Diane, Martha, Ianto ... all the pretty ones get to leave.”
“You’ll be next, Tosh.” winked Ianto, trying to lighten the mood. Toshiko smiled weakly, turning her head into Owen’s neck as more tears ran down her cheeks.
“Ahem!” Gwen cleared her throat.
“Oh ... and then you, Gwellian.” he smiled nervously.
“Actually ...” she grinned, waggling her left hand at him. He noticed a shiny rock on a gold band sitting on her wedding finger. “Me and Rhys!” she beamed. “That’s why he’s practically living here! Making sure Sarah Jane doesn’t try and do what she did with y- oh. Um ... with you ...” she finished, a little clumsily.
“Oh ... er ... congratulations.” Ianto smiled, hugging her as she threw herself at him. He managed to prise her off, then turned to speak. “I have to go.” he told the others sullenly. “The Earl is moving on soon. We’re leaving Cardiff in a couple of weeks, so I’m allowed to come and visit when I want – and I will, and far more often that I have been doing – and I’ll bring you all presents and stuff.”
“I’ll have a Porsche 911.” Owen grinned.
“You can have a smack round the arse with a lead pole.” Ianto scowled. “I ... I’ve got to walk back so ... yeah ... I’m gonna go.”
The lift seemed to be taking forever to arrive, and only because he wanted it to get there so badly. Lucy Saxon was chatting animatedly to one of the receptionists in the foyer, and he knew it would only be a matter of moments before the bloody woman recognized him and came over for a ‘chit-chat’. The lift pinged, and he stepped inside, jabbing the ‘Door Close’ button as she waved at him and began to make her way over. He pretended to try and hold the lift, but quickly pressed his floor button, inserted his key card into the security slot and began his ascent, breathing a sigh of relief.
Entering Jack’s suite, he shivered violently. The window had only just been replaced, and the room was still cold from the gale-force winds that had battered through it all night. Jack was chatting the Doctor in the middle of the room, arms folded. The Doctor was apologizing about the lack of security, and saying that Jack was not to blame and that the hotel would cover the costs. Jack was just accepting it, not really involved in the conversation.
Ianto frowned, not having thought the Doctor to be a push-over before. He did, however, seem very eager to please Jack and ensure his happiness one hundred per cent of the time. Taking a deep breath, Ianto stepped forward. “Would sir like a cup of tea?” he offered.
“No thank you, Mr. Jones. I was just leaving.” smiled the Doctor, though he seemed a little pale and drawn. He showed himself out, seemingly not able to leave quick enough.
“How did it go with your wife?” Ianto asked gently, and Jack raised his eyes to him slowly.
“She’ll call off the contract if I agree not to divorce her.” he said flatly.
“You’re only married on paper.” Ianto said soothingly, moving closer to him. “You hardly have to spend time with her – you could send her to live in another country and your marriage would be no different ...”
Jack made the move closer this time, pulling Ianto into a tight hug. “She’s a parasite. I hate her. Most of the time ... but ... sometimes ... there’s like ... the ghost of my wife ... there in her eyes. The woman she used to be. The woman I wanted to be married to.”
Ianto reciprocated the embrace, pressing a kiss to Jack’s neck. He didn’t know why he said what he did next, and he didn’t really think much about whether or not he should or shouldn’t have spoken the words aloud, especially to Jack. But he said it anyway. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll take care of you. Always.”
Jack stilled in his arms, then leaned back from him, staring into his eyes. They burned blue with something Ianto couldn’t describe, before flickering closed as Jack leaned forward and kissed him, hard. Ianto felt like he was being devoured and possessed, claimed and marked by Jack’s tongue. His knees felt weak, the butterflies in his stomach turning to dancing swans that seemed to want to burst out of him through his pounding heart. His nerves tingled where Jack touched him – and Jack was touching him everywhere, his hands seemingly covering all of his body at once and creating sensations Ianto hadn’t felt before. They broke apart, panting, and Ianto stumbled slightly, falling back into Jack’s arms.
“Make love to me again ...” he whispered.
“You are now leaving Cardiff.” declared the road sign, and Martha leaned back in her seat. She glanced down at the envelope in her hands, reading her name, then turning it over and slipping her thumb under the opening. Inside was a single card, and when she turned it over she nearly wept with joy, then bitterness as she knew she would probably never get to thank Ianto – or his Earl – for the gift they had given her.
Mickey Smith – 15A The Ropeworks, CH1 4JU
He knows you’re coming.
FIN
I'm not gonna go on about it - or get all big headed - but if you type 'rentboy!ianto' into Google, my journal comes up as the first result.
Not only is this a testament to my apparent greatness, it is also a reminder for me that OMFG I LOVE YOU GUYS! I'VE LIKE ... KINDA ACHEIVED SOMETHING because of your collective need for smut and my all-too-willing urge to provide it [with plot]. Thanks again, loyal Minions!
