I did this a while back for Charlie Pace from Lost (my other major fandom crush), and I’d like to do this for Ianto.
Here’s how it works: You claim one, I write 100-300 [or more] words of it in the comments. Feel free to specify a pairing (canon or crossover!) you’d like to see, and I’ll do the best I can to fulfill it. (My own note: I love crack!crossovers.)
- Prompt: naughty. For . Jack/Ianto, unresolved sexual tension.
They had lunch around the conference table, as usual, but Gwen and Ianto had brown-bagged it and Tosh had gone out for Thai for herself, Owen and Jack. “One does get tired of eating out,” Ianto said in a mild tone and bit into an apple.
Jack watched him eat, distracted by his mouth. “Oh, absolutely.”
“I had too many leftovers,” said Gwen.
“I’ve got quite fond of these, lately,” Ianto remarked, his eyes on Jack’s, and he ran his tongue over the exposed flesh of the apple. “They’re called Pink Ladies. Very sweet.”
“Mm.”
“I’ve always liked Galas, myself,” said Tosh. “You’re making me want to make a pie, Ianto.”
He smiled towards her but he was still watching Jack, as his tongue caught a drop of juice from the base of his thumb and flicked it into his mouth.
“Oh, I love apple pie,” Gwen said. “Hot out of the oven with fresh cream . . .”
Ianto slurped on the apple and ran his tongue up the length.
“Mm,” Jack said. “Cream.”
“Did you want a bite?” Ianto said, offering the apple to Jack. “It’s very good.”
“I’d love a bite.” He held Ianto’s wrist and bit in slowly, eyes never leaving his face as he chewed and swallowed. Ianto’s eyelids lowered so that he was watching Jack through thick dark lashes, sleepy and lustful and lovely. Jack touched his thumb to the center of Ianto’s palm and the younger man shivered and exhaled.
“Oh, don’t mind us,” Gwen remarked, her voice full of suppressed laughter.
“Sorry, what?”
“Your mind somewhere else, Jack?” Owen said, his expression amused and disdainful at once.
“Oh, no,” Jack said, “my mind’s right here.” Ianto smiled, but quickly schooled his features into their usual bland simplicity. “I just really like apples.”
- Prompt: happy. For . Purely, utterly happy with not a cloud on the horizon. And I want ice cream. And Jack. And the Doctor. And since you like crossovers – Narnia.
The doors of the TARDIS opened to reveal a vast green valley. At the far end was a castle, its banners blowing in the ocean breeze. “Ahh!” said the Doctor and strode out, and squinted up at the bright blue sky. “Here we are!”
“Where’s here?” Ianto said as he followed him out.
“Cair Paravel.” He gestured towards the castle. “And it looks like we’re just in time for a party.”
Ianto stopped and blinked in confusion, and looked at Jack, who was already bouncing following the Doctor down the slope towards the tents and banners. “Cair Paravel?”
“Yes,” said Jack.
“That’s from a book.”
“Is that so,” Jack said, nodding and grinning.
“So . . . how are we here?”
The Doctor turned around and called back to them, “It’s a big universe, Ianto. Anything is possible. Come on!”
“Come on,” Jack said and ran down the slope to catch up with Doctor, tackling him with a hug that made them both laugh. Ianto followed more sedately, looking around with wonder. Narnia . . . actually in Narnia . . .
At the four thrones set up in the center of the celebration, the two kings and two queens greeted the Doctor with hugs and exclamations. “This is Jack, one of my companions–and where’s–here he is, this is Ianto.”
Ianto bowed, not knowing what else to do, and Queen Lucy laughed and brought him upright, and King Peter said, “We are all equals here. It is a pleasure to have the Doctor and his Companions. Eat, enjoy the games.”
There was a feast, of course. Ianto remembered there had always been a great deal of food in the novels, and the court of Cair Paravel eat simply but heartily.
The hardest part, Ianto thought, was not jumping at the sight of Beavers and Horses and satyrs and fauns. There were nymphs dancing and singing, and Bacchus wandering around changing water into wine.
Ianto took a bowl of ice cream and moved away from the main body of the party to eat it. He sat down on the grass and watched the sword-fights as he ate, applauding when it looked like someone had won.
Jack joined him after a while, getting comfortable on the grass with his long legs sprawled out. “So this is in a book?”
“Yes–children’s books. I read them when I was nine or so.” He leaned against Jack’s shoulders and offered him a spoonful of ice cream.
“Hm. And yet, here we are,” said Jack after he’d eaten it.
“Eating ice cream on the lawn of Cair Paravel,” said Ianto. “While the Doctor talks with High King Peter and a dwarf and a Unicorn have a duel.”
“Didn’t I promise you I’d show you things you never dreamed of?”
“Yes, you did.”
“And haven’t you seen some pretty amazing things?”
“Yes, I have.”
“So . . .”
“I’m not complaining. I’m just . . . sometimes it’s hard to believe, this life. All these amazing places and wonderful things.”
“So you’re happy,” Jack said.
Ianto ate some ice cream and said, “Yes. I mean, I could have done without the death march, and the slave auction, and the bordello–” Jack laughed at that. “–and the run-ins with Daleks . . .”
“Yeah, Thursday was a pretty bad day.”
Ianto laughed. “But, aside from Thursday, I’m very happy.”
Jack started petting Ianto’s back, reaching up sometimes to play with his hair. “I’ve been wondering if it was time to go home.”
“Not yet,” Ianto said. “I haven’t finished my ice cream.”
- Prompt: sly. For With Ianto/Ten and Ianto/Jack (and possibly Ianto/Ten/Jack if you like) 😉
Ianto waited until Jack was asleep–it was a long wait most nights, Jack was too restless to fall asleep easily–and then slipped quietly from his bed. He dressed and went on silent bare feet through the mazelike corridors of the TARDIS to the Doctor’s room. His light was on: they’d picked up a scroll two planets ago–or more, Ianto couldn’t remember, all these new worlds were starting to blur together in his mind–and the Doctor had been completely absorbed in puzzling it out. Ianto didn’t bother to knock–he just opened the door and got onto the bed with him, careful not to crumple any of the papers scattered over the thick duvet.
The Doctor said, without looking up, “You see this symbol here? It means Earth. I’m fairly certain it means Earth. Those theories about ancient visitors from outer space may not be so mad as they sound.”
Ianto looked at the scroll. The symbols were as beautiful and incomprehensible as ancient Egyptian to him, but he nodded nonetheless.
“It’s telling about a traveler–that’s these pictograms here, ‘he who moves’–who found a small and pretty world where the locals–‘the dwellers of this place’–treated him like–” The Doctor picked up another paper where he’d made notes. “‘Like the most honored guest and most beloved friend.’ Rather nice, don’t you think?”
“The laws of hospitality were very strict in ancient times,” Ianto said.
The Doctor nodded, and said as he scribbled another note, “I know what you’re doing.”
“Sir?”
“Making yourself indispensable.” He peered at Ianto through his glasses. “Though I do appreciate your efforts in the domestic department. The TARDIS has never been so tidy.” Ianto smiled despite himself, and the Doctor went on, “But it’s the other things you’re doing that worry me.”
The smile disappeared from Ianto’s face. “What do you mean?”
“You think Jack needs a playmate, so you do whatever he asks of you. You think I need an intellectual equal–”
“Jack’s not stupid, Doctor.”
“No, but he finds all this,” his hand swept out to indicate the scattered papers, “very dull. While you hang on every word.”
“I do find it interesting. What worries you about it?”
“You spend so much time pleasing us I feel I’ve yet to actually meet you.”
Ianto twitched his shoulders and said, “You sound as if you think I’m planning a mutiny.”
“Oh, I know you’re not. But I do wonder . . .” He took off his glasses to look at Ianto with frank dark eyes. “What is it that you want, Ianto Jones?”
“I . . . I just want to be with Jack, Doctor.”
“Hm,” said the Doctor. It was not a disbelieving tone, but it did not assure Ianto the subject was done. He said, after shuffling a few more papers, “Would you like to see ancient Greece, Ianto? Witness the laws of hospitality firsthand?”
“I would,” Ianto said, and the Doctor bounded off the bed.
“Then so you shall!” He strode towards the console room.
Ianto watched him go, then lay on his back, folded his hand behind his head, and smiled at the ceiling.
It was all coming together.
- Prompt: angsty. For . Waiting for Jack.
The wedding rehearsal dinner ended after midnight. Ianto couldn’t bring himself to tell Bronwyn to come home, tonight of all nights, and left her snuggling her lad with promises they’d not do anything crazy before the wedding.
“We’re getting old,” he said to his wife, arm around her shoulders, and Elizabeth laughed. He’d fallen in love with her laugh, all those years ago, and it had never changed even though her hair was silvery and her body softening and her memory less reliable.
“Speak for yourself,” she said and leaned her head against his shoulder.
Elizabeth went to bed as soon as they got home, and though he lay beside her for a while sleep didn’t come. Ianto went downstairs, where his youngest son was playing video games, earphones in to keep from disturbing the rest of the family. Ianto thought about telling him to go to bed but decided Tom wasn’t doing anyone any harm. He paused long enough to drop a kiss on Tom’s dark hair and was rewarded with a very teenaged eye roll and a “g’night, dad.”
He drifted into the kitchen. Toast, perhaps, or ice cream. Or an apple.
There was an odd, grinding, whooshing sort of noise from the other room. Ianto called softly, “Tom, your game’s too loud,” as he turned away from the larder, and dropped the box of crisps he’s taken out.
“Ianto,” Jack said quietly, and his smile was beautiful.
* * *
He’d imagined this moment, of course. For the first year he’d imagined passionate kisses and vows of everlasting fidelity. For the next five he thought of a thousand cutting comments, how good it would feel to connect his fist with Jack’s face, if he could just turn and walk away no matter how much Jack begged.
After that, he had nothing left but resignation. He knew the cycle, he knew the stages, he knew that he was mourning the end of a love that never really had a chance to thrive.
It was a bit like burying a child, he thought. So much lost potential.
He met Elizabeth when he was thirty-four. She was a student at Cardiff University and worked in the bookstore he preferred to frequent. She started setting books aside for him that she thought he’d like, they’d talk about them over the counter while other customers shifted impatiently behind him, and when he finally asked her out for coffee he wondered what sort of madness he was indulging in. She was pretty and untouched and merry, and he felt wizened and strange and old. But she kissed him without hesitation and when he said he couldn’t talk about his job didn’t try to wheedle out anything more.
They waited to marry until she was done with school. Her parents were just glad she’d found someone steady, even though he was fourteen years older than she; his parents, bewildered by his long bachelorhood, adored her. All of Torchwood Three came to the wedding, and Gwen said, squeezing his hand, “Don’t let it drift, Ianto.”
He wanted to name their first son Jack, but they went with David instead. Jack wasn’t a family name for either of them, it was just the name of someone he wanted to remember, and he couldn’t tell Elizabeth why.
* * *
“Jack,” he said and bent, stiff and groaning, to pick up the box of crisps. When he straightened up again Jack was still there, watching him, looking the same as he had all those years ago right down to his boots. Ianto said, “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry,” Jack said.
Ianto felt self-conscious of his graying hair and wrinkled hands. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” Jack said. “Too long, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–we meant–”
“I know,” Ianto said. “It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right.” He stepped close, his hand out to take hold of him, and Ianto thought if Jack wanted a hug he could do it but a kiss he wasn’t so sure about–but Jack stopped himself, and said simply, “I owe you a trip to the stars, Ianto.”
Oh. Oh, it hurt. Thirty years ago, less than that, he would have wrapped himself around Jack and never let go.
The trouble with time, he thought, is that it never stops moving.
“My daughter is getting married tomorrow,” Ianto said. “I have two sons in university and another about to start. I have a wife.
“I can’t go, Jack. Not for a hundred thousand stars.”
Jack nodded and let his head drop–when he raised it again he was smiling ruefully. “Our timing has never been quite right.”
Ianto shook his head, holding the box of crisps to his chest. He’d often thought it wasn’t fair–they’d only had a few kisses and one incredible night. He couldn’t say out loud, If you’d come back, we would have had all these years together–but it must have been in his face, because Jack dropped any pretense of hanging back and wrapped his arms around Ianto, pressed his face against Ianto’s neck and dug his fingers into Ianto’s back.
“I’m sorry,” he said into Ianto’s skin. “I’m sorry.”
Ianto embraced him–awkwardly, then fiercely, holding onto him tight. “Don’t be,” he said and kissed Jack’s hair. “I’m happy. My life is good, Jack. It’s very good.”
Jack raised his head and kissed Ianto, one big hand wrapped around the back of his neck. “I’m glad you had that, then.” He leaned his forehead against Ianto’s and Ianto closed his eyes as they breathed together.
Finally Jack said, “I have to go. The Doctor’s waiting,” and Ianto nodded, not moving closer to Jack when he pulled away. “I’ll come see you again soon, okay?”
Ianto nodded. “Soon.” He watched Jack step into the corridor, and there was the sound of an opening door and the strange whooshing noise again.
He sighed, put the box back in the larder, and leaned both hands on the kitchen counter, breathing deeply. He didn’t look up when Tom ambled into the room.
“Dad? Are you all right?”
“Yes.” He straightened up. “Just tired. It’s been a long day and it’ll be a longer one tomorrow. Going to bed soon?”
“Yeah, sure. Are you sure you’re all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m fine. Good night, Tommy.” He climbed the stairs back to his bedroom. Elizabeth was sleeping soundly, her breathing shallow and even. Ianto ran his hand over her hair, then opened the curtain just enough to let in a little moonlight.
All those years. All those lost years.
He closed the curtain and got into bed beside Elizabeth, and lay his arm lightly over her side. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.
- Prompt: poorly, sick and dying. For . Comforter of your choice.
Ianto stumbled around the flat, trying to remember why he’d got out of bed. He picked up a box of tissues and tucked it under his arm, and thought, Juice? Did he have juice? Had he meant to make juice? Or was there juice in the fridge already?
He sneezed and coughed, and blew his nose. He couldn’t remember if he had juice or why he’d bothered getting out of bed at all. He crawled back in, drew up the duvet, and coughed miserably.
Death by flu, he thought, and wondered if anyone would notice when he was gone.
Hours later–or maybe days, he was so muddled it might have been a week or two–Ianto opened his eyes, because someone was rattling around in his kitchen and he couldn’t remember anyone being there before. “Hello?” he called weakly, and coughed again. His voice was so hoarse the call was barely audible.
Jack poked his head into the bedroom. “You’re awake!” he said cheerfully. “Good.” He disappeared and Ianto coughed again and closed his eyes, opening them when he felt the bed dip and Jack say softly, “Here, drink this.”
Ianto eyed the glass. “What is it?”
“It’s a fruit smoothie. You’re probably low on nutrients.”
Ianto took the glass and sat up carefully, and sipped. It wasn’t bad. Tasted mostly of strawberries. “Thank you. What day is it?”
“Tuesday.”
“Oh,” Ianto said. He’d only been away a day. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you. You didn’t call in–I was worried.”
“I’m fine,” Ianto said thickly and coughed into a tissue. “Never mind. I’m dying.”
“No, you’re not,” Jack said gently. “I won’t let you.” He patted Ianto’s leg through the duvet. “Finish that up. I’m going down to the chemist’s for something for the cough and fever, and we’ll have you to rights in no time.”
Ianto pressed a hand to his cheek–yes, he supposed he did have a fever–and sighed. He sipped obediently, and said, “Thank you, Jack.”
“No problem. Who’d make me coffee if anything happened to you?” He stood, and bent to kiss Ianto’s forehead. “Get some rest. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He left the room, leaving the door carefully ajar.
Ianto drank the smoothie and put the empty glass on the nightstand, and snuggled down under the duvet again. He wasn’t going to die today, at any rate.
- Prompt: horny. For . Ianto/Gwen.
He took her home: it was late, and she said, in a defeated voice, that it was hard some nights now that Rhys was gone. So he took her home and saw her up, and when she offered a glass of wine he accepted.
He intended the kiss to be merely comfort, but she thrust her hand into his hair and kissed him back fiercely enough to make him shudder. It happened fast: she was tugging off his tie and pulling open his shirt buttons and he was yanking her t-shirt over her head and cupping her breasts in his hands before he even had a chance to think.
He met her eyes then and started to remove his hands, started to say he was sorry, he’d got carried away, when she grabbed his head and kissed him hard, and said into his mouth, “Don’t you dare back out now, Ianto,” and he nodded, squeezed her breasts, kissed her back.
Her body was soft and round, her skin sweet under his tongue. She clutched his shoulders as he knelt, kissing her stomach; she cried out when he tugged her jeans and panties down to her ankles and licked her thighs.
Gwen groaned, “Ianto,” in a voice that went straight to his cock, that made his heart blip and his hands shake. He’d forgotten the feel of a woman’s skin, the scents and flavors–it had been too long since Lisa, too many nights with Jack’s blunt fingers and firm body. How much he wanted this stunned him: someone soft and tender and accepting.
He lifted her up and her legs went around his waist, her arms around his back. He had just enough presence of mind to whisper, “Condom?” and she shook her head.
“On the pill. It’s fine.”
He groaned at the idea and pushed his trousers to his hips, adjusted her body and arched into her. Gwen was blindingly hot and silky-tight, and she clenched around him as he began to rock his hips. She nipped his earlobe with sharp little teeth and gave a throaty laugh when he jerked his head away. He crushed her mouth with his and she moaned, her fingers scraping his back.
Gwen clung to him, tightening her legs around his waist and her body around his cock, her arms around his chest, and when he pressed between her legs with his fingertips she cried out his name in that throaty voice and dug her nails into his ribs. “Ianto,” she whispered and pressed their faces together, “oh, Ianto.”
He was still shaking when he pulled out of her and set her on her feet, and he slid down to his knees. She bent and kissed his hair. “Ianto,” she said again and stroked his face with both hands. “Thank you,” she said with a faint laugh.
Ianto nodded, still gasping for breath.
“You should get back,” she said, and he could see her compartmentalizing, filing this under Self-Indulgence. “Jack’ll be wanting you.”
He frowned, but nodded again. “You’ll be all right?”
“I always am,” she said, a little sadly.
- Prompt: pregnant. For . Jack knocking up Ianto.
Ianto was waiting for Jack in the conference room, his hands clasped behind his back. “What’s up?” Jack said and Ianto turned, his professional expression slipping a little as Jack kissed him hello.
“I seem to be pregnant.”
Jack froze. “What?”
“You remember how I’ve been feeling poorly for the last week? I finally went to a doctor about it, and there was nothing wrong with me. I’m in perfect health. So I was on my way home and had a thought, given everything that’s have happened in the last month–”
“Right,” said Jack, wincing, “the thing–with the thing.” It had been an interesting few days, and not just because Jack discovered he was as attracted to female-Ianto as he was to male-Ianto. The basic Ianto-ness had remained no matter what shape his body had.
“Yes. So I bought a pregnancy test.” He held out a white plastic stick to Jack. “It’s positive. Despite the fact that I have no uterus, no ovaries, and very little estrogen in my hormonal makeup, I’m going to be a mother.”
Jack took the stick and looked in the window. Yes, there was a little pink plus sign. “Wow.”
“Does Torchwood even provide maternity leave? I’ve never looked it up.”
“Oddly enough,” said Jack, “Torchwood provides for both male and female maternity leave. Precedent, you see.”
“That’s good to know.”
Jack said, feeling a twinge of guilt, “Do you even want the baby?”
“Honestly?” he said, not looking at Jack. “I don’t know. It’s all a bit too abstract to comprehend right now. I’m not even sure where the child is.” He put his hand on his stomach, looking down, and pressed his fingers over his navel. “Probably right about here.” He huffed a laugh and looked up at Jack with a faint smile. “It’s still a bit unreal.”
“It’s not going to be easy, you know, if you decide to keep it. We won’t be able to take you to a regular OB/GYN so Owen will have to look after you. Caesarean scars aren’t pretty.”
His lips twitched a little. “I won’t ask if you intend to do the right thing and marry me, sir.”
Jack tried to smile at that. “We should have Owen test you, just to make sure–make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m fine, Jack. I’m perfectly healthy. I’m a perfectly healthy pregnant male.” He sighed. “I’ll talk to Owen. I can hardly wait to hear what he’ll have to say. Excuse me, sir.” He started to leave the conference room.
Jack watched him go, then said, “Ianto,” and Ianto turned to look at him.
“Sir?”
“She’s going to be beautiful,” Jack said softly, and Ianto smiled, nodded and left.
- Prompt: excited. For . Jack/Ianto.
There’s a bounce in Ianto’s step when he arrives at the Hub in the morning, and he’s unusually cheerful when he greets everyone on their way in. Tosh looks surprised but pleased at his “Good morning!”, Owen grunts and makes a puzzled face at him, and Gwen stops and says, “What has you so bright-eyed this morning?”
“Just a good day,” Ianto says and buzzes her inside.
Perhaps he’s curious–more likely he’s bored–but for whatever reason, Jack comes upstairs and says, leaning against the tourism counter, “Okay. ‘Fess up.”
“About what, sir?” Ianto says, barely glancing up from his typing.
“If you’re celebrating something your colleagues deserve to know.”
Ianto smiles to himself. “So now it’s a matter of office relations, that I’m having a good day.”
Jack moves closer and says softly, “I have ways of making you talk,” as his fingertips trace the line of Ianto’s ear.
“That’s cheating, sir,” Ianto says, ducking away, and then opens his suit jacket–not missing the spark of interest in Jack’s eyes–and takes out the case of his good mood. “There. Satisfied?”
“Concert tickets.”
“This band tours the UK about once every five years. I was lucky to get them.”
“And that’s what’s got you smiling.” But Jack is smiling too, and gently touches the side of Ianto’s face. “I forget sometimes you have a life.”
“I do indeed, sir. Which,” he adds, “is not to say I wouldn’t mind your company on the night itself.”
“Are they blippy? I’m not crazy about blippy.”
“They’re a little blippy. But if you don’t want to go I’m sure I can convince someone else to accompany me.”
“Oh, no,” says Jack, “if something’s got you this excited I have to see it. I have to make sure it’s worthy of your attention. And protect you from the mush pit.”
“Mosh pit, sir,” Ianto says, keeping a straight face. He stands up long enough to briefly kiss Jack, and puts the concert tickets away in his jacket again. “I promise you’ll have a good time.”
“I always do when you’re around,” says Jack and goes back down to the Hub.
- Prompt: book-reading. For . Ianto/Jack.
Ianto went about it like meditation. Brew one pot of coffee (dark roast, freshly ground). Pour a cup with a dash of cream and a sprinkle of sugar–no syrup this time. Stir it exactly three times. Add a plate of biscuits–today, shortbread with almonds.
On to the bookshelf. What did he want today? Fiction or history, serious or humor? Martin Amis, Norman Mailer, Douglas Adams? Ianto ran his fingers along the bookshelf until he saw the book he wanted and pulled it from the shelf.
He took his book and the small tray with his coffee cup and biscuits, and then hesitated. Here was the break in his routine: Jack was sprawled on the sofa, waiting for him.
“Sunday afternoon reading club is about to commence,” he said, beaming at Ianto.
“Don’t forget the coffee,” Ianto said, giving him his cup.
“Sunday afternoon reading and coffee club.” He smirks and sips. “Otherwise known as ‘another excuse to spend time with Ianto.'”
“It’s an exercise in team bonding, sir,” Ianto said and opened the book.
- Prompt: dancing. For . Queer as Folk crossover Ianto/Brian/Jack(and you can Justin, if you want)
It didn’t take much to convince Jack they needed a night out–just a few kisses and the promise of Ianto’s tightest jeans. He’d never seen Jack dance, other than the formalized dancing that he did so gracefully, and so Ianto wasn’t sure he’d be able to convince him out onto the dance floor.
However, he needn’t have worried: Jack clasped him tight and ground against him among the gyrating bodies and pounding music, a huge smile on his face and his hands blatant on his ass. Ianto ground right back, smiling at him and thinking they wouldn’t be here for very long if this kept up.
The club was so crowded they were constantly being bumped, so Ianto hardly minded when someone pressed against his back. Jack looked at the person over his shoulder and faintly smiled, and Ianto glanced back as well. The man was handsome, dark-haired and artfully dressed, and he ran his hand blatantly down Ianto’s side, his eyes fixed on Jack’s.
Ianto looked back at Jack, uncertain, and Jack raised an eyebrow. Ianto bit his lip–the man’s hand was warm, still just resting lightly on Ianto’s hip as he danced behind him. Ianto nodded and Jack smiled. His hand joined the other man’s on Ianto’s hip, and the other man immediately moved closer so that Ianto was pressed between them.
“Name’s Brian,” he said, just loud enough to be heard under the music. His voice was a little gravelly, his accent American.
“Jack,” said Jack. “And Ianto.”
“Ianto,” Brian said, taking obvious pleasure in the name. “You’re the quiet type, I see.”
“Jack does all the talking,” Ianto murmured. He felt Brian’s lips on his neck and met Jack’s eyes again–Jack was smiling faintly, but he gave a questioning look to Ianto again. Ianto reached back to hold Brian’s head, nodding to say it was okay.
They danced together, the three of them, Jack and Brian both moving as if they’d done this a thousand times before. They had, Ianto suspected, and he had not; but it was an incredible feeling, being pressed between them, knowing that two gorgeous men desired him–quite possibly as much as they desired each other.
“Come to my hotel with me,” Brian whispered into Ianto’s ear, his eyes on Jack’s face. “Both of you. Come back to my hotel.”
“It’s up to Ianto,” said Jack and his fingers flexed on Ianto’s hip.
Ianto licked his lips and looked away. Certainly Brian was hot, and the look in Jack’s eyes said he had no objections to joining him–but Ianto had never shared Jack with anyone and had never wanted to.
“No,” he whispered and licked his lips again. “I’m sorry, but–no.”
Brian shrugged and let him go. “Your loss,” he said and left them for more promising partners.
Jack pouted, but lay his head on Ianto’s shoulder and held him close. “We might have passed up on something good there.”
“I’ll stick to the something good I’ve got,” Ianto answered.
- Prompt: jealous. For . Ianto, Jack and the Doctor.
The trouble with three, Ianto thought, was that it wasn’t two. Or even four. With three there was always something uneven, unbalanced; and while the Doctor and Jack never went out of their way to make him feel excluded, there was still a sense of exclusivity about them. They’d known each other for so long–they’d traveled so far together–they both were immortal and had a fondness for bananas.
He told himself he was being ridiculous and had no reason for jealousy. Furthermore, when he thought about it, he wasn’t sure of whom he was jealous, the Doctor or Jack.
If he were jealous.
Which he wasn’t.
He liked the Doctor a lot. He could talk about anything and frequently did, and Ianto loved to listen to him even when Jack yawned in the most exaggerated way possible and said, “I’m sooooo sleepy,” and looked at him hopefully. When Ianto finally said good night to the Doctor and went to join Jack, Jack pouted and said, “You like him more than me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He lay down against Jack’s back and wrapped his arms around him. “I like you a lot. I like him a lot.” He paused a moment. “I’ve wondered sometimes if you regret bringing me along, though. Maybe you’d prefer having the Doctor to yourself.”
“Nope. Not for a second.”
Ianto smiled, burying his face in Jack’s neck. “The Doctor once told me he brought me along because you were lonely.”
“Yes. It was down to you or a puppy.”
Ianto laughed and licked Jack’s neck, and Jack finally turned over, pouts gone. “Could you pretend to sit worshipfully at my feet sometimes? Hang on my every word?”
“I hang on your every word already,” Ianto said and traced Jack’s nose with his own. “I’ll be happy to sit worshipfully at your feet. And I’ll try not to be jealous when you and the Doctor get so chummy.”
“That’s my boy,” Jack said, and that was all Ianto needed to hear.
- Prompt: kidnapped. For . BY ORCS!!!
Of course, Ianto blames the Doctor.
More accurately, Ianto blames the TARDIS as she seems to take a perverse delight in depositing him in the most bizarre situations possible. “This is nothing,” the Doctor says serenely–as serenely as one can speak when being forced to follow Orcs at a run. “I was once forced to participate in an Omicronian death march. They take their sport seriously, you see. And the bunions were terrible.”
“Thanks,” Ianto panted. “I feel much better.”
His guard decided it was time to shush him then, and considering his method of shushing was to slap Ianto across the mouth with his heavy leather glove, Ianto decided to agree.
“What will be very interesting,” the Doctor added after a few more miles, “is to see how Jack rescues us. I’m out of ideas. Don’t suppose they’d be distracted by a banana.”
A group of their kidnappers started arguing. “‘e won’t miss them long legs,” said one. “And ‘e’s young–the flesh will be tender.”
“Does ya want to roast a sorcerer?” snarled another.
“Oh dear,” the Doctor remarked. “I believe they intend to eat us.”
“Doctor,” Ianto said, nauseous with exhaustion, “shut up.”
“Tch,” said the Doctor. “You’re so cranky when you think you’re about to die.”
- Prompt: caring. For . Ianto/Charlie (from Lost).
Every day, as he commuted from his flat to Torchwood Tower, Ianto passed a boy playing guitar. Homeless and runaways were nothing new in London–he passed dozens of them every day–but this was one of the few who stood out. He played guitar skillfully and sang with a limited but trained voice, and always said thank you when someone dropped money into his guitar case.
Ianto gave him a little money every time he had some spare change, and always got a smile and a thank you in return. He supposed it was a little ridiculous, but he wished he could do something more–but there was no place for a musician in Torchwood, and Ianto didn’t know anyone who worked in music.
It was cold and rainy one day, and when Ianto passed the singer at his usual place his voice was raspier than ever and he sneezed even more than he sang. Ianto dropped in a few pound coins, and the singer nodded and said, “Thanks, mate,” and Ianto went on his way.
And then stopped at a clothing shop and bit his lip, and ducked inside. He bought a scarf and an umbrella, and then went back to the singer.
“Back for more?” the boy said, still playing.
“I, um–” He held out the shopping bag. “These are for you.”
The boy stopped playing and stared at him. “What?”
“It’s raining. You need an umbrella.” He held out the bag a little more insistently.
The boy looked for a moment like he was going to refuse, and then took the bag and said, “Thank you. Thank you. That’s very kind.”
“Cheers,” Ianto said, and went on his way to work.
- Prompt: on his knees. For . With Alex Krycek.
There is something poetic about a one-armed man, but when a gun is pointed at one’s face one generally doesn’t think about poetry. The man is shouting in Russian and the only Russian Ianto knows is Dos vadanya and Minya zhavot Ianto, so he says, “I don’t understand you!” even though he is on his knees with his hands behind his head and Jack is bleeding on the ground beside him. “I don’t understand you,” he says again, firmly, impatiently, “what do you want?”
Maybe the man had expected something else–pleading, tears, horror that he had shot Jack–and that he gets anger instead is what makes him click the safety on his gun and pull it back from Ianto’s forehead. “What’s your name?” He sounds American rather than Russian, but Ianto doesn’t find this reassuring.
“Shouldn’t you know that already? Haven’t you been spying on us?”
The man shrugs. “Tell me your name and I’ll tell you if I’ve been spying on you.”
“Ianto. Jones.” His eyes flick to Jack–no sign of life from him yet. He has to get the man away before Jack revives. “And you’ve just killed my boss.”
“You’ll thank me later. I’ve been watching. That meteor you collected last night–I want it.”
As if he expects Ianto just say “I’ll just get it for you then” and hop to his feet. Ianto scowls. “That meteor is property of the Torchwood Institute.”
“Do you know what’s in it?”
“No.”
“Well, I do. That’s why I want it. Go get it–” He shifts the aim of the gun to point at Jack again. “Or I’ll keep killing your boss.”
Ianto swallows: the man has been watching. He repeats doggedly, “That meteor is property of the Torchwood Institute.”
“And the Torchwood Institute,” the man says deliberately, “is too big for its britches. Go get it, unless you want your boss shot again. And again. And again.”
Jack says weakly, not moving from the floor, “You’ll run out of bullets before I run out of life.”
“Sir,” Ianto whispers and glances at Jack just long enough to catch his wink. He gives a barely-perceptible nod and looks back at the Russian.
The other man cocks his gun. “Get the rock, Ianto Jones.”
And that’s when Ianto tackles him.
- Prompt: obedient. For . With Jack.
No matter what Jack asked of him, Ianto always responded with a quiet, “Yes, sir,” and went about fulfilling his request neatly and efficiently. A dozen witnesses who needed to be retconned? “Yes, sir.” A violent alien attack that needed to be disguised as a mugging gone bad? “Yes, sir.” Yet another cup of perfect coffee? “Yes, sir.”
Sometimes Jack played a little game. How far could he push Ianto–what would finally be the thing that made Ianto say, “Sir, no”? He asked Ianto to index the files predating 1915, and Ianto had it finished within a week. He asked Ianto to find him a birthday gift for his great-aunt Bertha “with the really terrible allergies” and Ianto brought back a brass sculpture of Durher’s praying hands. He said to Ianto, “There’s this line in a poem . . . I think the cover’s blue? Something about ‘I give you my beard and breast’?” and Ianto gravely put a copy of ‘Leaves of Grass’ in his hands less than two hours later. He said, “Name this tune,” and whistled it for a full five minutes while Ianto looked at him with a completely bland expression.
“‘Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree With Anyone Else But Me,’ sir,” he said when Jack finally stopped whistling.
“Is that an invitation?”
“I’ll see if I can find you some apple trees, sir.”
This will be it, Jack thought as he unknotted Ianto’s tie, looking into his eyes. This is where he’ll finally say, No, sir, and I’ll know his limits. “I want to kiss you,” he said out loud, and Ianto murmured, “Yes, sir.” “I want to lick every inch of your body,” Jack went on, and Ianto said, “Yes, sir,” as his cheeks flushed with color. “And then,” said Jack, “I want you bent over my desk–”
“No, sir,” Ianto said and raised his head. There was a gleam in his eyes and a smile starting to form on his lips. “I don’t think we’ll be doing that.”
“Oh, really?” said Jack, and then Ianto had his wrists in a strong grip and Jack was pressed against the nearest wall.
“Yes,” Ianto said. “Really.”
- Prompt: losing his cherry. For . Ianto/David Talbot (Vampire Chronicles).
He meets the man, David, in a pub in Cambridge. Ianto is eighteen and flattered by an older man’s attention–someone so exotic-looking and handsome, who listens to him like he has interesting things to say. There is no question, when David asks him to go back to his hotel, that he will go.
He’s brave and casual in the pub, not caring about what his mates think. Alone with David, though, he doesn’t feel so brave–he feels young and strange and ignorant, and when David kisses him he’s trembling, nervous, shy about touching David.
David seems to like that, though: he whispers encouragement, Yes, touch me here, it’s all right, explore me. Ianto does so slowly, first through the silk shirt and then over David’s bare skin, and when he kisses David the other man moans and caresses his head and whispers, So lovely, sweet Ianto.
David eases him out of his clothes, kisses his neck and his chest and belly, whispering all the while that he is a beautiful boy. Your skin, your muscles, your sweet nipples–do you like this? Ianto jerks and moans and confirms he likes it.
Ianto’s senses are overwhelmed, every nerve is alight. When David sucks his cock, when David pushes his finger inside him, Ianto moans with abandon and thinks Yes, this is what I’ve been wanting, this is what I need, and when David kneels between his open thighs and says May I? Ianto says Yes, yes, yes.
It hurts a little but he’s not afraid. David is gentle and slow and often stops to stroke and pet him. Beautiful, beautiful, he says, his long fingers tracing over Ianto’s skin, and Ianto feels beautiful, desirable, sexy, strong.
Why did you want me? Ianto asks him after, when David is pulling on his clothes again, and David smiles as if at a private joke.
Because you were untouched, sweet Ianto, he says and kisses his cheek. Because I wanted you to remember me.
- Prompt: naive. Claimed.
- Prompt: shocked. For . With Jack.
The little girl looked to be about four years old. She had black hair and mocha-colored skin, contrasted beautifully against her bright blue eyes. She was dressed in a simple grey jacket that buttoned down the front, with short trousers and tiny doll-like shoes. She swung her feet as she waited in Jack’s desk chair, looking around with curious eyes.
Ianto paused in the doorway. “Hello,” he said, and the girl smiled, revealing even white teeth. She spoke in a rapid, pretty language that Ianto didn’t recognize, her voice high and sweet. “Um. Where’s Jack?”
She frowned a little and said, “Zhack?”
“Big fellow?” He held up his hand to about his height. “Dark hair, like mine?” He tugged on his hair. “Big smile?” He pointed to his mouth and tried to smile like Jack, and it made the girl giggle. She pointed behind him and spoke again, and Ianto turned to see Jack coming through the front doorway, a pizza box in his arms.
“Ianto,” he called, and sounded less upset than Ianto would have thought. “I thought you’d gone.”
“I got an alert–alien activity in the area.”
“I canceled it. You just move too fast.” He smiled carelessly at Ianto, and it broadened into something more genuine when the little girl hurled herself at his knees. He spoke to her in the same language as he bent to pick her up in his other arm. “I see you’ve met Pohla.”
“Yes. Er. Hello, Pohla.”
She jabbered to him, arms around Jack’s neck. “Ianto,” Jack explained, pointing to him, and she repeated, “Yando!” with a big grin. “She wanted to know who you are–” He paused while the girl chattered some more. “And if you’re my new–there’s not exactly a word for it in English–well, family is closest, I expect.”
“Your family,” Ianto repeated. “Who is she?”
“The rest of my family,” Jack said, with pride and affection in his voice as he set the girl down on his desk. “My daughter. And she’s about to eat pizza for the first time.” The girl clasped his face and Jack kissed her nose.
Ianto could only stare. “Your daughter,” he said in wonder. “I had no idea.”
“Very few people do. I don’t see her very often–it’s such a long journey.” He took a slice from the box and carefully broke off the end with his fingers, and give it to the girl along with a paper napkin. She sniffed it curiously, and her face broke into a big smile. She ate the piece quickly, with an unmistakable, “Mmmm!”
“Definitely your daughter,” Ianto observed. “She knows who you are, though.”
“Yeah. Her–other parents make sure she knows who I am.” He ran his hand over her shining hair, and gave her another bite of pizza when she pointed at the box.
“That’s very kind.” He paused. “It must be difficult, knowing another man is raising your child. Did your . . . wife remarry?”
Jack smiled faintly, then said, “Can I tell you something? And promise you won’t tell the others because this is something I really, really don’t want to explain over and over.”
“Of course, sir,” Ianto said seriously–and smiled with amusement with the girl wrapped her arms Jack’s neck.
“Pohla’s not from this world.”
” . . . oh,” Ianto breathed.
“The alien presence we were alerted to earlier was her family-group bringing her to me. The social structure is kind of . . . well, parents come in fours and fives, generally, and the entire species is hermaphroditic. She wouldn’t know the difference between mother and father, for example. She calls me ‘mamu’–”
“Mamu!” Pohla agreed and got another kiss from Jack.
“–but that’s mostly a biological distinction. It literally means ‘body-mother.'”
“Body-mother,” Ianto repeated.
Jack looked at him steadily. “Yes. I’m her mother.”
“Oh,” Ianto said and had to sit down.
“Give yourself a few minutes to get used to the idea,” Jack said with amusement. “It was something a of a shock to me, too.”
“Yes–but–how?”
Jack laughed dryly. “You know, I’m still not sure. One day I was just having a good time with a group of loving aliens and the next I had swollen ankles and morning sickness.” He shrugged. “Worth it, though. Even if I’ll always have the scar from the cesarean.”
“She’s beautiful,” Ianto said softly and Jack smiled his thanks. “Is she human?”
“Half. Our DNA blends pretty well with what’s out there.” He played with her hair as she contentedly ate a little more pizza. “It’s going to be difficult for her when she gets older, though. She has a gender–she’s definitely a girl. We may bring her here when she’s older.” He took the girl into his lap and she snuggled against his chest. “But there’s another ten years before we have to decide that.”
“Who’s we?”
“The family-group. Her other parents. Parenting in groups is really the way to do it–I couldn’t ask for a more ideal situation for her. They brought her here for a few days so we can spend some time together and then they’ll take her home.”
“They made that journey just for a few days?” Ianto said.
Jack shrugged again. “I’m her mamu. Family is everything to them–the blood bonds, the love bonds, they’re very strong. The way I live here horrifies them. They don’t get why I don’t have three or four people living with me and looking after me.”
“Is that why she asked why I’m your family?”
“Yep.” He nodded.
Ianto said, “What did you tell her?”
Jack smiled at him, patting the girl’s back as she nuzzled against him. “I said you’re my Ianto.”
- Prompt: greedy. For . With Jon Stewart.
“You know what I like about you?” Jon said to Ianto as the younger man was putting his freshly-refilled water mug on the desk.
“I can’t imagine, sir.”
“You give this place a much-needed touch of class.” He leaned back in his chair, laughing when someone called from the audience, “Put him on the air!” “What do you think of that, Jones? Want to be a correspondent?”
“I’m not interested in being famous, sir,” he said, glancing at the cameras.
Jon lowered his voice and said, “What are you interested in? There’s a pool, you know, about what you’re actually doing here. My money’s on international espionage, since we don’t have much sheep in New York.”
“I don’t think this is the time or the place, sir,” Ianto said and made his escape as the producer counted down to air time.
* * *
After the show, Jon was relaxing his office when the door silently opened and the Welshman–he’d explained, in far too much detail, the differences between a Welshman and an Englishman on his first day with the Daily Show–slipped in. “What’s up, Jones?” Jon said.
“You wanted to know why I’m here,” Ianto said, sitting on the edge of his desk. “It’s because you have something I want.” He slid his fingers down Jon’s tie.
“Jones,” Jon said in a warning tone.
“This won’t hurt,” Ianto said and neatly plucked the tie tack from Jon’s tie. “It was a gift from Colbert, wasn’t it? Only you’ve never got a straight answer about where he got it from.”
“Yeah–but what do you want with it? If you want a souvenir you only have to ask.”
“He meant well,” Ianto said as if Jon hadn’t spoken. “But it’s not for you.” He kissed Jon’s forehead. “Some things you aren’t meant to know.”
“I’d like that back,” Jon said as the Welshman rose, but Ianto merely smiled at him.
“Too bad,” he said blithely and left the office.
* * *
There was an email in the morning, to HR: Jones had decided, abruptly, to return to Wales. He was grateful for the time with the Daily Show, he wrote, but he was homesick.
“I don’t get it,” Stephen said. “It was just a tie tack.”
Jon wondered, and when over the next few weeks the news got more and more interesting and he stopped despairing on air quite so much, he wondered more.
- Prompt: daring. For . Jack/Ianto.
When you want something, want it badly enough, want it so much it occupies your every thought and dream, you have to act on it–you have to be brave, be bold, be daring.
Ianto has had enough waiting. The flirting, the looks, the lingering touches–there’s only one way to find out if it means nothing or means everything. But he is not the kind for grand gestures. Jack likes fireworks; Ianto does better with simplicity.
He brings the afternoon coffee to Jack’s office and puts the cup on his desk. Jack is occupied with paperwork, but glances up with a quick “thanks” anyway–and then his pen pauses when Ianto lays his hand gently on the back of his neck. He looks up slowly. “Did you want something more, Ianto?”
“Yes, sir,” Ianto says.
“And what would that be?” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“You, sir,” Ianto says simply. He hopes Jack hasn’t noticed the way his hands are shaking. He’s faced down Weevils with less trepidation.
Jack is still looking at him, still smiling, and he gently takes Ianto’s other hand. “Now is not the best time,” he says, “but if you can stay a little while after work we can discuss this further.”
“Very good, sir,” Ianto says and leaves Jack’s office. Out of Jack’s eyeline, Ianto closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
Some people jump off buildings. For Ianto Jones, the bravest thing he can do is admit what he wants.
- Prompt: exploring. For . With Jack.
The TARDIS took them to the frozen ocean on Women Wept, and the Doctor waved Jack and Ianto on, saying he’d seen it. Bundled up against the cold–Jack in his greatcoat, Ianto in a coat he’d scrounged from the wardrobe–they made their cautious way down the shore to the towering waves of ice.
“What do you think?” Jack said, holding out his hand to Ianto to help him down a slope.
“It’s beautiful. Terrible, but beautiful. Bit like how I always imagined Antartica to be.” He didn’t need the help but he accepted it anyway. Any excuse to hold Jack’s hand. “How did it happen, though? Oceans generally don’t freeze.”
“No one knows. It’s been frozen like this for hundreds of years and no one was here to see it happen.”
Ianto nodded, concentrating on not slipping. “So people just come here to look at the ocean.”
“It’s not exactly a tourist destination, but yeah. There’s not much to do except–” He hopped over a frozen arch of foam. “–look around. And whatever you decide to do while you’re out.”
“I hope you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking. We’ll get frostbite.”
Jack laughed and held out both his hands to Ianto, who took them. “If that’s all you’re thinking about we’re doing it wrong.” He pulled Ianto to him and kissed him, his skin cold and his mouth hot, and for a moment Ianto forgot about the ice
- Prompt: swimming in the buff. For . Crossover with Kaylee or Inara from Firefly.
The stop was the TARDIS’s idea, the walk was the Doctor’s. “You’ve been saying you need to stretch your legs,” he said, peering at Ianto through his glasses. “Just be careful of what’s in the ocean.”
“What is in the ocean?” Ianto asked, but the Doctor was already pulling levers and mumbling over lights, so Ianto shrugged and left the TARDIS for the world outside.
The ocean looked perfectly safe, and after a glance back at the TARDIS, Ianto stripped off his clothes, folded them in a neat pile in the sand, and dove it. The cold was a bracing shock–he came to the surface sputtering, and then floated on his back, only a lazy kick of the legs now and again to keep him from floating completely out to sea.
He started up when he heard a splash nearby, and looked around to see a young woman swimming towards him. A ship was hovering over the ocean, and someone waved to the girl from its open bay. “Hello!” the girl called cheerfully.
“Er,” said Ianto.
“You’re not drowning, are you?” She swam up to him with strong, tanned arms. “We thought you might be. You’re pretty far out.”
He looked at the shore, which was much farther away than he’d suspected. “I’m not drowning.”
“Oh, good,” she said with the same cheer, treading water easily. “‘Cause that’d be a pity. Is that blue thing yours?”
“I–that’s the TARDIS. Why would it be a pity?”
She smiled and gave him what was a distinct once-over. “Strappin’ things like you don’t come around every day. I’ve never heard of a Tardis class, and I know somethin’ about ships. Where are you from?”
“Er,” Ianto said again. “Wales. Cardiff. Earth?”
She stopped treading water for a moment. “Earth-that-was?” she said in wonder. “How’d you do that?”
“I’m not entirely sure how it all works,” he said apologetically. “I’m kind of a . . . hitchhiker.”
“So they didn’t throw you off for bein’ a stowaway?”
“No–I’m just swimming.”
“Shiny,” she said in admiration. “Well, my arms are tired–I’m headin’ back to Serenity. Glad you’re not drowning!” She swam away.
When Ianto came back to the TARDIS, dripping and sandy, he told the Doctor about the encounter and he laughed. “The natives are more friendly than I thought,” he said.
“What is in the ocean?” Ianto said. “Aside from friendly natives.”
“Oh . . .” The Doctor was absorbed in the TARDIS again. “Giant neon squids, I believe . . . Ianto, do you need to sit down?”
“No,” Ianto said, sitting down.
- Prompt: bathtime. For . Continued from #12: Jack rescues him, and then he needs a bath.
Jack’s rescue did not involve a banana. It was actually quite clever, and very Jack-like, with lots of flash and bang.
Getting back to the TARDIS had never been such a relief, and the Doctor, contrite over how difficult the entire experience had been on Ianto, graciously let Ianto use the bath first.
Ianto sank into steaming hot water gratefully and propped up his aching feet, lay back his head and listened to the dripping of water and the hum of the TARDIS. He wished vaguely for a cold beer, but that could wait.
He didn’t open his eyes when he heard the door, and simply said, “Not now.”
“Yes, now,” Jack said and Ianto felt Jack’s hand wrap around one foot. “I’m just checking on you.”
“As you can see,” Ianto muttered, “I’ll live.”
“Scoot forward. I’ll do your back.”
Ianto sighed and scooted, and the water surged up when Jack got into the bath behind him. Jack began rubbing his back, sluicing up hot water to wash away the sweat and dirt.
“We should get some ice on your mouth,” he said.
“It doesn’t hurt much.” Ianto rolled his shoulders under Jack’s hands. “Thank you. By the way.”
“Anytime. I should work on my timing, though. Another few seconds–” He hugged Ianto close quite abruptly, and Ianto smiled despite his sore mouth.
“Nonsense. You love swooping in at the last second.”
“Well, yes. It leaves such a lasting impression.”
“I’m very impressed.” Ianto yawned and Jack chuckled, and picked up one of the colored bottles of fragrant soap.
“Let’s get you clean,” he murmured, “and then I’ll let you sleep. Maybe it’s time to take you home,” he added as he began scrubbing Ianto’s skin.
“I don’t mind the adventures,” Ianto said. “It’s the near-death experiences that I can do without.”
“It’s not an adventure if it’s not dangerous,” Jack said. “Perhaps that’s the trouble.” His hands were gentle on Ianto’s legs, soothing the aching muscles.
“The trouble,” Ianto said, “is that we’re always meeting creatures that want to eat us or enslave us or mate with us–stop laughing–instead of, say, creatures that want us to enlighten them.”
“You’ve watched too much Star Trek,” Jack said. He rapped his knuckles lightly against Ianto’s temple. “Get it out of your head that we’re here to teach aliens the errors of their ways. We’re not. We save the girl, we stop the war, we prevent the invasion. We do not impose values on other civilizations.”
“Yes, Jack,” Ianto said with a sigh.
“Except in the case of those things. With pure evil it’s okay to tell them they’re wrong.” He turned back Ianto’s head and kissed him, careful of his healing lips. “And the only one who gets to eat you is me. And the Doctor, if he wants to.”
Ianto splashed him. “Pervert. Don’t I have some say in that?”
Jack laughed and splashed him back. “I can’t say no to that face. I’d like to see you try.”
“If it ever comes up,” Ianto mumbled and then leaned back against Jack, really too tired to persue the subject any further.
Jack stroked a hand over his face and whispered, “Close your eyes, I’ll take care of you,” and Ianto obeyed, knowing he’d keep his word.
- Prompt: eating his lunch and drinking from a soda bottle. For . Crossover with Futurama.
Ianto eyed his bottle of Slurm uncertainly, though the Doctor and Jack both slurped theirs down without hesitation. “New New York isn’t quite what I expected,” he said and opened the bottle.
“You’d be surprised at how much it’s like Old New York,” said the Doctor. A big-headed, tentacled green alien walked past them, eying them as they ate their hot dogs, and the Doctor added, “Except for that, of course. Aliens used to be much harder to spot.”
Ianto watched the passers-by with curiosity: gelatinous green creatures, robots, a one-eyed woman with purple hair. And perfectly ordinary-looking people too, and that was the part that surprised him most. “What’s caused this? Mutations?”
The Doctor shrugged–it was a full upper-body movement with him. “Mutations, alien interbreeding, changes in diet . . .” He looked significantly at Jack’s hot dog. Jack waggled it like a cigar.
“Too late for me,” he said and chugged some Slurm. “I’m as mutated as I’m going to get.”
Ianto finished his hot dog and looked for the nearest litter bin. “Do they do chips?”
“They call them ‘French fries,'” the Doctor advised. “Sometimes even Neptunian fries, which is odd because they don’t fry their potatoes on Neptune–they bake them.”
Ianto started laughing. “Of course they do. And robots drink beer, and we’re going to the severed head museum later.”
“They’re not severed heads–they’re heads in jars.”
“Living heads in jars,” Jack added.
“Living heads in jars,” Ianto said. “Of course. My point is, here we are, a thousand years in the future, in New New York, and we’re having hot dogs for lunch.”
“And Slurm,” said Jack and clinked their bottles together.
Ianto swung his feet. “Nothing ever changes,” he said. “Not fundamentally.”
“No,” the Doctor said, smiling at him proudly. “Not really.” He finished his hot dog in one bite and stood, dusting crumbs off his trousers. “Are you lads ready to see the museum? Let’s go meet George Washington’s head.”
- Prompt: exhausted. For . With Jack.
Jack practically carried Ianto to the couch, waving off all offers of assistance. “Go home, go home,” he said to the others, “I’ll look after him.”
Ianto tried to protest, but it felt too good to leave his head on Jack’s shoulder. He felt Jack’s hand on his face and his lips on his forehead, and sighed as he relaxed against Jack’s chest.
The sounds of the Hub died down to just the drip of the water tower and the hum of the computers, and Jack’s heartbeat under Ianto’s ear. Jack smoothed his hair back from his face and held him close, humming under his breath.
“Do you want me to take you home?” he whispered, and Ianto shook his head, clinging to Jack. “Do you want to stay here with me tonight?” Ianto nodded and Jack kissed his forehead again and gently got them both to their feet and guided him down to his own quarters. Ianto stumbled a few times, but Jack always caught him and kept him from falling. “Poor Ianto,” he whispered as he lay Ianto down on his bed. “So tired he can’t even see straight.”
“‘m fine,” Ianto mumbled as Jack began to unbutton his shirt.
“Yes, you are, and you’ll be better in the morning. I’m looking after you, just like I promised.”
Ianto nodded and let Jack undress him, down to his t-shirt and boxer shorts. He expected it to go further but Jack seemed content to just lie there next to him, holding him close under his light blanket. Ianto whispered, “Jack,” but he was too tired to even open his eyes.
“Sleep, Ianto,” Jack said. “You’re safe here. Go to sleep.”
- Prompt: falling down a lot. For . Ianto/Ten.
The champagne was the color of a sunbeam and tasted like peaches and light, and after Ianto had his fifth glass and Jack his ninth or tenth, the Doctor decided it was time to leave the banquet and return to the TARDIS. He managed to support them both on the journey through the village, even though Jack preferred singing marching songs to walking and Ianto tried to drown him out, singing loudly in Welsh a song about driving all the English off their lands and burning their footprints as they went. It made the Doctor laugh, and the Doctor laughing made Jack laugh, and he slung both his arms around the Doctor and said, with the sincerity of the deeply inebriated, “Doctor, I really love you,” and Ianto stumbled over his feet
“I know, m’boy,” the Doctor said, patting Jack’s head.
When he finally got them to the TARDIS Jack slipped from under his arm and sat heavily on the floor of the console room, and said, lying back, “I think I’ll stay here for a while. Yes. Right here. It’s nice here.”
“I’ll just look after the young one, then, shall I?” the Doctor said, and Ianto mumbled “‘m not that young,” and stumbled when the Doctor turned him towards the long hallway that led to his room. The Doctor had one of Ianto’s arms slung over his shoulders and directed Ianto with a hand pressing lightly on the small of his back, and Ianto let his head fall into the crook of the Doctor’s neck and sighed.
“Are you going to leave me somewhere?” Ianto said and stumbled, and the Doctor hitched him back up against his side. “I keep thinking you are. You’re going to get tired of me and leave me somewhere and that’ll be the end.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because . . . because I’m a stowaway and a bad influence on Jack.”
“Nonsense,” the Doctor said. “You’re my Companion, and the only bad influence on Jack is Jack. Here we are,” he said cheerfully and Ianto found himself on his bed, looking at the ceiling. “You’re going to hate yourself in the morning, but you’ll live.”
“Doctor,” Ianto said and the Doctor looked down at him, hands on his hips. His face looked strange at this angle, like it hadn’t been put together properly. Ianto put his hand on the Doctor’s cheek and his face reassembled, dark eyes and beaky nose and a mouth that smiled so widely and frowned so deeply.
“Just rest,” the Doctor said and removed his hand. “I need to see to Jack.”
“I like it here,” Ianto mumbled and curled onto his side, willing the room to stop spinning.
- Prompt: well-shagged. For . Jack/Ianto.
Jack is behind him, hands on his hips, lips against his neck. Ianto reaches back and grabs his hair and Jack growls and it’s teeth against his neck as well, biting That Place that makes Ianto shudder. Jack loses his rhythm, just for a moment, just long enough for Ianto to spread his knees farther and arch his back and hiss “harder” and then Jack is slamming into him, just like he asked. Ianto wraps his hand around his cock and strokes, and Jack groans, “Ianto,” and Ianto cries out without words and he feels Jack slump against him, breathing hard against his shoulder blade.
Ianto lets go of Jack’s hair and moves Jack’s hand from his hip to his cock, licks his dry lips and says “please” and Jack’s big hand joins his, just a little clumsy, but it feels so good because it’s Jack’s hand and Ianto wants him down to his fingerprints.
After, Ianto feels like his body is humming–like he can feel every nerve under his skin. He can taste Jack on his lips, smell himself on Jack’s skin.
He touches Jack idly. Fingertips along abdominals and pectorals, following the dark path of hair down his belly leading to his now-limp penis, which stirs under his touch. Jack makes a sound in his throat and shifts closer, and Ianto smiles and murmurs, “Ready for another go so soon?”
“It’ll last about five minutes at this point.” Jack’s voice comes from deep in his chest.
“Perhaps I’ll just let you be.” He moves his hand to Jack’s waist, then slides his arm around Jack’s back and pulls him close again, wanting to feel his heartbeat. It is slowing down to his usual pace, and Ianto presses his lips and nuzzles with his nose over where he can feel it beating. Jack chuckles and scrubs a hand through his hair.
“This isn’t letting me be.”
“This is the part where we bask,” Ianto says and tucks his head under Jack’s chin.
Jack hugs him and cocks a leg over Ianto’s hip. “You bask like a cat asleep in the sun.”
Ianto purrs and feels Jack chuckle, and smiles against his skin. He feels at peace.
- Prompt: kickass. For . Ianto/Jack/Ten.
In the manner of all great heroes, Ianto makes it up as he goes along.
He has only the sonic screwdriver and his wits, but they’re enough. He runs along behind the boy Darron, and when the boy points down the last hallway and whispers, “There,” Ianto pats his head and tells him, “Go somewhere safe.”
Ianto takes a deep breath, gives a stern look to the sonic screwdriver, and brandishes it like a sword at the guards when he steps into the hallway. “Out of my way or I’ll disintegrate you!”
They look at him.
Ianto squeezes the screwdriver and wills it to fire at them. Nothing happens.
The guards look at each other. They both burst out laughing.
“Oh, hell,” Ianto says and swings at the nearest one. His hand screams in pain against the guard’s face and it’s all he can do not to scream with it, but it gives him enough time to fight off the second guard as he tries to hold him in a half-nelson. The guard shouts and Ianto sees that Darron has not run off–he’s biting the man on the leg. Ianto grins at him, unable to help himself, and wrestles the other guard down to the ground.
“Doctor!” he yells. “Jack!” He slams his shoulder against the door and the guard pulls him back. “Jack!”
The Doctor’s voice is faint through the thick wood. “Ianto? Is that you? Are you trying to rescue us?”
“Yes! It’s not–” He slams his shoulder against the door again and kicks the guard in the stomach. “It’s not going very well!”
“Do you have the screwdriver?”
“Yes!” He throws the guard off his back and Darron tackles him, but when Ianto takes out the screwdriver the other guard gets up from the floor and steamrolls him, knocking the screwdriver from his hands. “No!” He gropes for it from the floor as the guard pulls him back into the melee.
“Well, which is it, lad? Yes or no?”
Ianto bashes the guard’s head against the floor and the man slumps, unconscious. Darron beams at Ianto, sitting in triumph on the other guard’s back. Ianto grabs the screwdriver. “Yes!”
“Well, good. I’d hate to lose it.”
“Ianto!” Jack calls to him. “Point it at the lock and focus all your thoughts on it–tell it to open the door for you.”
Ianto does as he’s told. The blue beam is feeble but he hears the heavy lock click open, and then the door is open and Jack is hugging him and the Doctor is laughing and hugging him too, and then they grab Darron and get the hell out of there.