Dinner, and a Movie?

Author: Pippychick
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Jack/Ianto
Summary: A little one-shot that I couldn't help but write.
Disclaimer: Russell T Davies owns these characters and their world. Please don’t sue me for playing with them, mister. They're so pretty. I promise to wash them both down afterwards with hot soapy water and give them back. I make no money out of this.


Author's Notes:

First things first, a big thank you to kay for reviewing the last chapter.

Ok, this chapter is a bit of a strange one, being quite a bit heavier than the chapters before, with some Jack history/character stuff, and a bit of merging into Doctor Who. Sorry about that.

I hope you enjoy it. Please consider leaving a review as encouragement. Thank you.


Chapter Seven

Once more they had made it back, against all the odds, but this time there was an addition. True awareness didn't return until they were somewhat settled, after all of the exhausted pushing and shoving. The small space set aside in the Hub for Jack to sleep wasn't exactly roomy at the best of times. He and Ianto had filled it between them before — and now there was a third.

That was where they were when some sense of the here and now came back, tangled together, laid over each other in a satiated heap, like sleeping puppies or wolves, only one of them was a bad wolf. Slowly, only half-conscious of it, they rearranged themselves into separate entities. Now they were playing sardines, which would become something of an irony later on.

Jack opened his eyes only because he was too lazy to continue resting there with his eyes shut. And, simply because there was nothing else to look at, his gaze drifted over the naked forms of his two companions, and lingered on the elder of the two. John Hart. It would do as a name. What were names anyway? They were only there to make the paperwork easier.

Blue eyes hazy with satisfaction stared back at him, and Jack noticed for the first time that John was awake too. So much to say — so much he needed to know, but for the moment he couldn't be bothered with any of it. Jack would be a liar if he claimed he didn't spend the next few minutes recalling their time together. The fights, their escapades, the arguments, the fabulous sex. The death threats. It had been fun. But that was before he met the Doctor. Since then Jack only had one name. Still stolen, but permanent. Almost as if he'd finally committed himself to something.

Jack allowed a little of a smile, and John smiled back, but Jack wasn't thinking about the present, or even the recent past. His fatigue was making it difficult to concentrate on the here and now. He really wanted to sleep, but couldn't, and so he allowed the memories.

It hadn't started with the bomb. It had started with Rose. Saving her had been the beginning. Admittedly, his motive had been to save the person he thought could pay for the goods — but that was no excuse. It had all started there. He still didn't know why he had stopped the bomb from falling on London at the last minute like that. He had been clear and out of danger when something made him go back.

A large part of it had been the opportunity to make himself look damn good in front of them both, and he hadn't really believed it would be the end of him. The chance had been there, but he thought he knew how to gamble. Turned out he didn't. Volcano day was the day he got out of the way — except that once. Finding out he had lost the bet had come as something of a revelation, but he couldn't change it. And then Rose and the Doctor had rescued him as well like it was some kind of crazy encore. He clearly remembered the way the Doctor had danced with them both, and afterwards he had still been hyperactive and jolly, every now and again exclaiming: “Everyone lives!” for no reason at all. Since then Jack had changed. Not overnight, but he had changed.

Only the Doctor, contrived or not, could fashion such a complete cynic into a hero. At first, his loyalty had been to the Doctor and Rose, and then one day while travelling with them, he discovered he cared about whoever the Doctor was trying to help.

Ianto moaned tiredly on the other side of John and Jack's gaze flickered over to him for an instant as he dragged his mind back to the present. John caught his look and smiled with a flash of white teeth.

“I think we broke him,” he said in amusement. Jack found the energy to laugh quietly.

“You really don't know him at all, then.”

“Oh?” John countered, his face an approximation of surprised pleasure. “Does that mean I will?”

Jack managed to shrug in answer. He really didn't know about that. It would be up to Ianto, and he didn't think much of John's chances. But for now, he rested his upper body weight on one weary elbow and leaned over John. Ianto seemed to be asleep, and so for all intents and purposes they were as alone as they were going to get. If he had been just a little more awake, he might have been in the mood for questioning John Hart. But he wasn't more awake, and as his old accomplice looked up at him, Jack realised something just a little painful. His comrade was impossibly older, and Jack knew they weren't on the correct time line, because as far as his own time line was concerned this man was long dead. He'd always have that boyish look, but he was older. So much older.

Since he had arrived back in eighteen-sixty-nine, Jack Harkness had learnt more than a few things. Alone, a long way from home, and more importantly without Rose and the Doctor, he had wondered if this profound change in him would disappear — but it didn't. Finding out he couldn't die had made it even easier to be the hero, and he became someone whom others depended upon wherever he went. It was as if they could sense it in him.

Still, he wouldn't have said he was altruistic. Everything he did, he did with a conscious dash of flair and egotism. Although he did eventually learn some sense of propriety. It took a while (and several fatal lynchings) for him to learn that not everyone was as open-minded as he would like, and that they (sometimes) didn't just want to be seduced into it either. After that he began to gather people around him that he could be himself in front of. He learned that there were two sides to every Gentleman's Club; you just had to know where to look and who to approach. But they didn't allow women. The world moved much too slowly for his taste, even now in the twenty-first century, when half the planet claimed to be promiscuous. Perhaps that was partly the reason he had finally decided on leading a version of Torchwood.

Yes, he hated to admit it, but he had acclimatised somewhat to the times. He sensed the slowly changing world, and allowed himself a little more of this, a little more of that. Still, there was a core in him that was playful and he missed his old libertine self, but he had forgotten what it really was until now. No guilt, no right or wrong, just good times. He sighed as those blue eyes sparkled in what seemed like knowing amusement, and Jack did the only reasonable thing under the circumstances. He leaned down and kissed the man who had brought such trouble (such wonderful pleasure) to them.

He only meant for it to be brief; just a taste, and his intentions didn't change, only — he didn't have the wherewithal to stop. The kiss deepened so slowly he hardly noticed, but they were so very tired and somehow that made it more like surrender than any other kiss they had ever shared. They pulled apart at last, still gazing at each other.

“We both know you can't make this mean anything,” John teased, meaning more than one thing by it. Jack shook his head.

There had been loves in his life since he had travelled with the Doctor. Great loves, casual affairs, brief encounters, and those who would be his match. The change in him had made him appreciate every one of them more than ever. Every taste was different, and a rare privilege. That had been the biggest change. Some, like Estelle, he had never told the truth to, shielding them from it and caring for them even when they didn't know he was there. Others, he had attempted to stay with, telling just a few of his secrets.

Andrew had been one. They had been soldiers together. And then, later, officers, until eventually, when the world seemed somewhat peaceful, before anyone could imagine the Great War that was to take so many lives, they had settled. Actually, he had decided upon it after encountering fairies for the first time on a troop train where he had been Captain. They had settled and spread the rumour that they were brothers, so that Jack could try to forget. They could never have stayed in one place for longer than a couple of years though, and when they moved again, they settled as father and son. But Jack had been the older, despite appearances, and nothing could ever make him forget the utter anguish of being sent to war again in the trenches as a young able-bodied soldier while Andrew lived out the end of his life alone. By the time Jack returned, his spirited Andrew was gone forever.

Yes, love had been a crueller mistress for his rehabilitation at the hands of the Doctor, and yet she had been more beautiful than anything he had known before. At first he had been sure his new-found conscience would desert him. Now he knew he could never let it go. There was nothing about his life before that held even a tenth of the riches that it did now. Loss could never again mean regret to him. And therein was the difference.

Jack looked at John and he was so much older than when they were together. So fragile. Suddenly all he saw was an animal that didn't understand it was about to be put to death. “No, I can't,” he replied, ignoring John's more playful suggestive tone. “I can't make this mean anything to you, and I'm sorry,” he said tenderly, not without sadness, and when John rolled his eyes it just made him seem all the more pathetic. An animal screaming at the coming dark.

Still, he couldn't possibly stop himself from trying. John was from the same place as Jack, after all; free of the jealousies, the inhibitions and expectations of exclusivity that the human race was taking so long to shake off. This was what he missed more than anything. John was dangerous, but so wonderfully easy on his soul, and he had hungered for this particular kind of easy for so, so long. He leaned down again, fully intending to continue the kiss when there was an incredulous sigh from the other side of John.

“How can you possibly have the energy?” Ianto asked, his voice wavering on the edge of a yawn. “Either of you?” he accused. They looked at him, and then back at each other, sharing a secret that for all Jack's attentions, Ianto knew little about. In deference to that, Jack moved away and fell back onto the bed with a sigh of defeat. There wasn't any guilt in the face of Ianto's disapproval, but all the same he couldn't continue now.

“Don't blame me,” John said to Ianto in complete insincerity and his habitual innuendo, “I can't even lift a finger.” Jack looked at him, and John had his eyebrows raised in that annoying but cute way. He was mocking Ianto, and Jack watched them both, wondering if he even had the strength to step in.

A change that Jack wasn't expecting came over Ianto's face, as of someone realising they'd left the gas fire on five hours into a coach trip, and he just carried on watching, puzzled. “Where is your hand?” Ianto asked, his voice toneless, obviously not daring to look. John had no such quibbles, and Jack followed his gaze down Ianto's body, only to have to fight to keep in the silly smile.

“Want me to move it?” John asked with a dirty grin, and Ianto just looked at him. He couldn't reply without appearing as though he were asking for some kind of sexual favour, and they all knew it.

Ianto was staring now, still making no reply, and Jack knew what he was looking at. John may be older, but it was still him. He was as pretty as ever, and white pillows really suited him. When he was asleep in bed, he looked like an angel. When he had just woken, he was adorable. Jack grinned, and recalled making sure there were always fluffy white pillows for their bed, and the way they'd taken advantage of John's adorable side more than once during con tricks.

The longer this went on, the less chance Ianto had of resisting. Jack settled back to watch happily and wait for the outcome. After his thoughts earlier, his money turned out to be on John.

“Move. Your. Hand.” Ianto sounded very calm, only Jack knew that was fury. The full stops really gave it away. He looked to John as if it were a tennis match.

“Oh, eye candy!” he said, and then looked down at his hand. “Move,” he told it sternly. His hand stayed obstinately still. Jack hid his sudden smile behind his hand. Ianto's glare could have boiled water, and John plastered a look of fake apology onto his face, biting his lip as if in concentration as he looked down at his hand again.

It must have been like torture for Ianto, because John's hand did move, very very slowly. In fact, his fingers kind of... dragged over Ianto. There was no physical response of course, they really were too tired, but Ianto let his breath go in a quiet sigh, and his glare changed just a little. Oh, his money really was on John now! He could imagine the calculation in John's mind, and as he expected, the man made himself look so appealing and innocent he was almost taken in himself.

Ianto moved closer, as if it was beyond his control. “Jack,” he said softly, without looking away from John.

“It's all right,” he replied, intending to reassure, but Ianto had always been more than he seemed. He wasn't asking for permission, or apologising. He was aware. Of course, Jack had warned Ianto about John when he first appeared. He's a villain. If he approaches you, take any threats seriously and disregard anything else.

“No, it's not,” Ianto replied to him, again without looking, and he meant losing himself in it and giving in. But then he would take things that seriously; he had been brought up to it. Their lips touched tentatively at first before they began to kiss in earnest. John lifted his hand at last to cup Ianto's face, and he saw Ianto press that wayward hand down in the pillows. Shame about the exhaustion, really, because they were beautiful together. Jack watched Ianto and John Hart for at least half a minute before he heard footsteps. He put out an urgent hand to Ianto's arm, and the kiss ended with John and Ianto barely a breath away from each other as the footsteps came nearer. Ianto concentrated for a moment.

“Tosh,” he mouthed silently, and Jack nodded.

The footsteps were slower as they approached the sleep space, before stopping completely.

“I checked the CCTV.” Toshiko's elegant voice sounded so close and clear. Jack and Ianto looked at each other; behind the controlled accent Tosh was concerned. “I can tell there are three of you in there, but the records have gone.”

John smiled at them both in a very self-satisfied way. The three of them remained quiet. “Jack?” Toshiko questioned carefully.

He moistened his lips. “Yeah,” he called out in a croaky voice. “It's me.”

There was another silence. “Ianto?” Toshiko was less certain this time. There was a hurried conversation between him and Jack that was mainly comically exaggerated faces and rolling eyes before Ianto replied.

“I'm here,” he conceded dully as if he were answering the school register.

Another silence, much longer. Jack and Ianto looked at John, and then —

“Gwen?” Jack laughed out loud, and even Ianto smirked as John rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Vera,” he called out sarcastically, and there was the very definite click of a trigger being pulled back.

“Whoa!” Jack managed to call out in alarm, and sat up so quickly he held his head for a second. “Tosh? It's all right!”

He looked around wildly, until Ianto pointed helpfully at a corner of the sleep space where his robe hung. Summoning all of the energy he possessed, Jack clutched it and somehow wrapped it around him before climbing unsteadily out to reassure Toshiko.

“Jack? What's happening?” she questioned. He gently covered the gun with his hand and lowered it down to the floor, then for a moment longer than strictly necessary he held Toshiko in his arms.

“We're not in any danger. It's all right,” he said, coaxing as Tosh let the gun go. He released the trigger slowly and then stumbled a little.

“Jack!” Toshiko exclaimed in concern. “Will you tell me what's going on? Why are you all...?” Something seemed to occur to her and she lifted one eyebrow at Jack, who shrugged a bit and managed to look sheepish. “You do realise you've left Ianto alone in there with him, don't you?” she said disapprovingly. Jack did what he always did when he couldn't think of anything else — he smiled. He also wished someone would follow him out. Coffee would be really good around now.

“Well,” he said, casting his eyes impatiently back as if that would get Ianto out more quickly. “I imagine they're — ” He stopped, suddenly able to very precisely imagine just what was happening in there. Ianto was probably following him very faithfully.

Considering, he thought it was probably safe. They really were exhausted. “Tosh!” he said brightly, throwing a heavy arm around her shoulders as an underhand way of getting some support. “You're a genius! But have I ever shown you how the coffee machine works?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


A while later, four people were sat around the Hub's kitchen table, each of them with a mug. Jack and John were both wearing dressing gowns and sat opposite each other. Ianto somehow had made himself look more than presentable. In fact, he looked great. Somewhere, Ianto was keeping clothes, which meant he was getting really good at waking up in Jack's bed. Jack tried not to be impressed by it and failed utterly. He tried not to drool, and thankfully succeeded at that.

They sat in silence for a bit. Somewhere a clock ticked. Did they have a clock that ticked? Clearly they did. Maybe that Billis guy had left one. Jack looked very seriously at everyone in turn. John smirked at everyone in turn. Ianto sipped his coffee and tried not to grimace. Toshiko was the only one who truly had the grace to look uncomfortable.

The clock ticked, counting away the seconds. Jack's imagination ran riot without stopping to consult him first, and he shared an unspoken meaningful look with Ianto. John folded his arms.

“Well!” Toshiko said at last with a bright smile, as though they were all old friends. Some of them were. “I've really got some work to do. I think I'll just pick it up and take it home.” She paused, clearly not certain, and looked at Ianto and Jack in turn. “Are you sure you're all right?” John smirked for not being included, and Jack gave him an exasperated look before smiling at Toshiko.

“We're fine. Promise. We'll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

“We're all right,” Ianto added, looking up briefly, and that seemed to convince Tosh when Jack couldn't.

“All right,” she said, and couldn't quite hide her relief at the escape. “See you in the morning, then!” she said with another one of those bright smiles, and left her mug on the table as she went to collect her things.

Three people sat around the Hub's kitchen table. John sighed. Jack took a first sip of Toshiko's coffee and grimaced. Ianto shook his head slightly. There was silence. Somewhere, a clock ticked. John picked up his mug to look inside it doubtfully, having noticed the grimaces of the other two, and Ianto rose from his chair, taking the mug from him with a tut of disgust.

“I'm going to make some real coffee,” he said. He gathered the mugs and set to work while Jack watched him happily.

“What are you so excited about?” John asked.

“Oh... you'll see,” Jack said with a grin. He saw Ianto had heard him because he shook his head again. Jack laughed, and then turned his attention to John once more. “And then, we're gonna want some answers,” he warned, much more seriously.

“Oh? You mean the price,” John said with a satisfied nod.

“All I mean,” Jack said firmly, “is that Toshiko will be alerting Owen and Gwen as we speak. I think we've got about,” Jack deliberated and checked his watch, “twenty minutes of alone time before they're all here. Ianto?”

“I would tend to agree with that, Sir.” John raised an eyebrow at the comment and then gave Jack an appraising glance.

“He's really good! How much do you have to pay him?”

“They're all really mad at you still. Just a friendly warning,” Jack said, ignoring the comment. John sat back with a smug smile.

“And just think how much more easy-going they'll be when I introduce them to what's downstairs,” he threatened. “Oh! Unless of course you can think of a way to convince me to stay quiet.”

A sudden clear image of Owen, Gwen and Tosh in the water together made Jack swallow — hard. Wow! Ianto dropped a mug, and it smashed on the floor. Obviously, he had just imagined exactly the same thing. After that, the clock ticked. Jack smiled coldly at his old accomplice, and John had the common sense to look a little alarmed.

“You're keeping from my sleep,” he pointed out with a menacing tilt of his head. John took a deep breath, and then leaned forward with a faux look of troubled concern.

“Only the elderly get that way about nocturnal activities,” he pointed out with a nod, trying to encourage Jack to nod back at him.

Jack pulled himself to his feet tiredly and walked around the table to where John sat. He lay a friendly hand on John's shoulder. Then, without a great deal of fuss, he leaned down and whispered into John's ear how old he was. He also explained his sleep patterns and how much sleep he could be expected to get in any one month. Very calmly, Jack advised John that he would not be kept from sleep. When he had finished, John appeared to be taking the entire thing a little more seriously.

Ianto put a coffee mug down on the table in front of him, and John jumped with Jack's hand still on his shoulder. “Yeah,” he said with a nod, not looking up at either of them. “I can kind of see why that would be important to you.”

John appeared to think for a moment. “Why don't we get rid of them? I'll keep the secret... for now. And later we can, you know, negotiate.” Jack wondered if it was possible for John to say anything that wasn't loaded full of innuendo. He looked at Ianto helplessly. For now, they couldn't do anything more.

“You won't say a word,” Jack said to John as if it was an order.

“Oh, my lips are sealed,” he replied, with a trace of flirty humour.

Their twenty minutes had drained away to fifteen. But now Jack was more awake, and he had questions.


To be continued...

Author's Note: Thank you for reading, I hope you're enjoying it. Please let me know if this chapter didn't work for you.