Dinner, and a Movie?

Disclaimer: Jack and Ianto don't belong to me, unfortunately. They belong to all the people who had a hand bringing them to life, including Russell T Davies, the BBC, John Barrowman and Gareth David-Lloyd. I make no money from this. Please don't sue me – I can't pay and if I do end up in prison I'll only write on the walls. Don't make me resort to graffiti.


Author's Notes:

Ok! Sorry about the delay. Normal service shall now hopefully be resumed. Here is the next chapter from me, during which we find out John Hart's ostensible reason for returning to Torchwood to bother Jack.

I hope you enjoy it. This one has been beta read by the wonderful Thedoctorshope900, and the slash content has been tweaked a little by me with sincere thanks to Dan for his advice and patience, who is a lot less embarrassed than my stepfather when questioned about manly things. ;)

Before I shut up and get on with it, I'll just thank my fabulous reviewers for the last chapter: mystiedaze and youssii_amala_kasai. Thank you so much for your encouragement! :)


Chapter Eight

A few very efficient seconds later, they were all sat down again; this time with decent coffee. Despite his admission, John Hart had shaken off his alarmed surprise and now appeared as insolent and roguish as ever. Ianto was sat by the side of Jack, and they both looked at him over the table.

“Ok,” Jack said as calmly as he could manage. This had gone far enough. “I'm listening. Talk.”

“You know, you really do make quite a team,” John said, somehow managing to combine sarcasm with sincerity. “I'm impressed.” Jack raised an eyebrow. “Do the others know what you really are?” As he spoke, his gaze switched between them so that it wasn't clear who his question was addressing. Perhaps it was both of them anyway. Jack caught himself and held back an impatient sigh.

“Cut it out. I said talk,” he demanded again, making the first time he had asked seem particularly polite. John glared.

“Ok, if that's what you really want,” he said, sulking. Then a mischievous smile lit up his blue eyes. “I could think of better things to do with my mouth, but –”

“Are you always this difficult?” Ianto asked suddenly, cool and calm, and John switched his gaze to smile at him.

“Oh, but don't you like it that way? A little bit of resistance to overcome...” He let his sentence end there, between them, dirty and suggestive. “I know I do,” he murmured into his cup. His eyebrows lifted as if he had found something particularly nice in there. He had – it was Ianto's coffee. Jack's patience began to wear very thin though, and only the sure and certain knowledge that he wouldn't get what he wanted stopped him from violence. Did he really know? Or had it just been a tease? Just something to make him pay attention? It was entirely plausible, and Jack desperately needed to find out.

“Difficult,” Ianto repeated thoughtfully, “with a pronounced lack of creativity.” He sounded as if he were noting it for future reference, and Jack found his lips lifting into a little smile despite it all as John scowled. He made it one-nil, to Ianto.

Under the table, out of sight, Jack was surprised to find himself quietly taking hold of Ianto's hand. He didn't really know why he did it, except that he needed to know Ianto was on his side. Though there was a slightly sharp inhalation of breath, Jack was certain Ianto didn't show any shock on his face as he closed his fingers around Jack's, squeezing a little.

“Grey. Where is he?” Jack asked outright, then he swallowed, and more quietly, he asked: “How is he?” John looked back to him, away from Ianto.

“He's – older,” John replied, and then moistened his lips deliberately. “Quite a bit older, actually.” It was impossible to miss the innuendo, and Jack felt Ianto's hand tighten around his in sympathetic anger, though he didn't really know what this was about. Jack shook his head slightly as a warning, and gave John nothing more than a relaxed grin. It was just baiting. But then John didn't say anything else, and as the silence between the three of them stretched and lengthened, Jack became quietly furious. Years he had searched before he gave in, and only then because he realised he no longer knew what Grey would look like. Billions of people in the universe, and not one of them seemed to be Grey. Not one of them was his father either, and that had hurt just as much. A harsh lesson: wretchedness was searching for the dead in the eyes of the living.

Seven long years, and he had still been searching for a child that had let go of his hand. A life that had slipped through his fingers like sand. For his brother. That loss had fuelled the easy way Jack took to the casual culture of his own time. As he matured, he embraced himself fully, became a true hedonist, skilled in giving and receiving pleasure, seeking it for comfort when with every step he faced his own failure. But no lover, no matter how easy it flowed, could replace what he had lost. He could never know any of them well enough. They could never know him the way Grey had, and so the more casual they were the better. John had come the closest. Their humorous bickering had once soothed something in him. Something that had hurt and was hurting still. It wasn't soothing him now.

“Where?” he asked again, at last, his voice slightly ragged as he relived coming to the conclusion that he would never see his brother again. To let go of Grey and mean it had been a painful but decisive step and Jack had worked hard to forget since then. Since then he had lived more than a lifetime. Now, as the memories rushed in, it felt good to hold Ianto's hand, and it also kept him from just killing John where he sat. He looked away from that unbearable smile, and caught Ianto's eye.

“You should know better than to make this important, Jack,” John reproached. “I almost pity you.” Jack shook his head, aware of how quickly the time they had was passing while John evaded his questions. He needed longer. “Well, I would,” John amended then, “if I could.” So cold. Ianto looked away from him, and Jack paid attention to John again too.

“Tell us why you're here,” Ianto demanded, changing the topic, giving Jack a way out of this for now. For this brief amount of time, Ianto was his champion, and how could it really be casual? It wasn't, and yet it couldn't last. Not forever. Jack let go of Ianto's hand, not really meaning it at all.

“All right. Spoil all my fun,” John said with a roll of his eyes, but he seemed to obey Ianto. Jack noted that, and wondered if it was something he might be able to use later on. “It's been, what? A week for you? Two?”

“Two weeks,” Jack confirmed as he felt Ianto's hand chasing his. He gave in, and beneath the table, Ianto concerned himself with rubbing his thumb in small circles over Jack's palm. It was obviously meant to be distraction and reassurance. He really liked it. There was no way in hell he was going to have Ianto stop doing it, even if it meant his mind wasn't entirely on the conversation. As discretely as possible, he pulled Ianto's hand closer to his leg. Ianto always played to win, regardless of the result. Jack remembered that when Ianto took him up on the unspoken challenge, and he swallowed nervously as John carried on. What had he let himself in for?

“Okay. It's been a few months for me.”

“Since what?” Ianto asked, and Jack smirked. Wasn't it supposed to be him who wasn't keeping track?

John gave them both a somewhat suspicious and dirty look. “Since I was last here,” he said then, impatient to tell his story now, or so it seemed. “Catch up, eye candy. Anyway, I told you that the time agency had shut down.” Jack nodded as complacently as possible, given the fact that Ianto was now caressing him beneath the line of John's sight. He sneaked a look at Ianto as he brought his arms up and rested his elbows on the table. There was that some kind of subtle smile in his eyes. Oh, yeah – he was finding it amusing. “Trouble is, there's not much for me to do now,” John continued. “Good cons are few and far between. There's this kind of depression going on in all the time lines, and while there's the odd bit to be made in trading – you know me. I mean that's just far too much like an honest job,” he said, obviously depressed and dissatisfied. “Where's the fun?”

“Is there a point?” Jack asked, his voice cool. He knew John Hart too well to pity him for anything. And even if it wasn't a trick, he didn't deserve sympathy.

“Considering your age that's something I thought you might know,” John quipped, acknowledging Jack's refusal to be taken in with a slight frown. Jack narrowed his eyes. “All right! Getting there.” John was sulking again, but he carried on. “Bezalean sea lizards are about the best thing going in trade. You see – people will pay for them. And people will pay for you to take them away. You can even name your own price.” He paused, then grinned happily, winking at them both. “And it's fun!”

“So why here? Why us?” Jack questioned as severely as possible. He began to wish Ianto would stop what he was doing... for now. He was only wearing a thin dressing gown after all, and that... Jack cleared his throat innocently as Ianto's hand slipped inside the lower part of his dressing gown.

“Well, I didn't have any buyers on the hook. And you know how dangerous they can be.” John began to look like Jack felt – slightly uncomfortable. In fact, John even looked away from them for an instant. “I'm sort of on my own,” he said hesitantly. “On a spaceship. With a lizard.” He paused, then looked at Jack earnestly. “Can you remember that story about that guy...?”

Jack thought back for a second on all he knew or had heard of Bezalean sea lizards, then he laughed a little. “Oh, yeah...” he said throatily, half in reply, and half because Ianto was doing something so delicious to him in public. He wondered if John Hart could be counted as 'public' and thought that was a very definite yes. Damn, John Hart could be counted as public property.

“Got to be true,” John said then, as if he didn't quite believe it himself. He took a deep breath, as if he'd just missed some terrible fate. “So I sent it here for a bit, to give myself a break, and because I knew you'd be happy for me to come and take it away once I had someone lined up.” He smiled and sat back, his side of the story explained. “Seems to me all we're missing is a little negotiation on the price.”

“What are you expecting?” Jack asked, holding out his hands as if to show they were empty. “You must know that I don't have any currency you can use.” John's eyes switched to Ianto as if in answer, and Jack really regretted that because Ianto's hand moved away from him.

“I've got a good imagination,” John said meaningfully.

“Yes, you have,” Jack said, his voice thoughtful, remembering. He turned his entire body towards Ianto and drew in a quick breath of consideration. “Do you think Owen would mind pretending to be you for an hour?” he asked hopefully, then glanced at John. “Or two,” he amended.

Ianto just stared, a look of mild horror on his face. It was a rare thing to carry off, mild horror. Jack really appreciated it, and wondered what other unlikely facial expressions Ianto was capable of. Ianto glanced at John, and then back again. “Are you trying to creep me out, or does it just come naturally to you?” he asked with a touch of sarcasm.

“I love your imagination,” Jack said, making a point that he saw Ianto acknowledge with a little smile. Then he couldn't help teasing some more. “Are you imagining it?”

“No.” Ianto denied it, but that mild horror was back. Jack wanted to laugh. “And no, somehow I don't think he would even want to consider it.”

“Really a definite no, huh? Sure?” Ianto just stared, and Jack acknowledged that with a slight nod and a regretful grimace, putting on a bit of mock disappointment for Ianto's benefit. Then he turned to face John, who had followed this entire exchange in silent amusement, and became a lot more serious. “What do you really want?”

“Well, I was thinking. Because you're Torchwood.” Now they were getting to the heart of it. Jack nodded at him to go on. “You must have some things here that you never even look at. Like, useful things. I could, let's say, match them up with their rightful owners.”

Beside him, Ianto huffed. “Absolutely not.”

John looked at Ianto for a moment, and then back to Jack with a question. “That means no,” Jack explained helpfully, and John narrowed his eyes and sniffed.

“Well, I did say we'd be negotiating. The lizard isn't going anywhere for now, I guess.” John folded his arms. Time must be getting on, and Jack still hadn't got any real answers out of John Hart. But there was always later. For now, they had something to do together.

“We're going to have to get rid of the rest of them,” he said shortly. The less people were around John Hart, the safer it would be. “You're going to help.”

He watched as John caught on immediately and smiled. Just like old times. “Yes, Sir,” he said, and then looked at Ianto as if he had scored some kind of point. “Watch and learn, eye candy,” John said. Ianto didn't look all that bothered by the teasing. They stood up, and Jack took a moment to be relieved his arousal had died down a bit before he led the way out of the kitchen to the main part of the Hub. They had about ten minutes left.

“Better get dressed,” he said to John, his eyes on Ianto and the fabulous suit he seemed to have plucked out of thin air a while ago. He had a change of clothes up here, but he was taller than John, and his clothes were still scattered on the floor downstairs. He thought for a moment. “You can go down alone for your clothes,” he ordered with just a little bit of grim humour. “Be quick, and don't wander. Ianto will keep an eye on you from up here.” John rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Sir,” Ianto said, moving to a monitor to bring up CCTV of the stairs leading down to the lower levels. He caught John looking at him, and Ianto raised an eyebrow, that familiar amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“You might want to remember that I was doing this long before you were even born,” Ianto said, and Jack saw John actually concede the point with a smile. In fact, John Hart looked as though he might really want Ianto. Jack didn't do jealousy. Really, he didn't. Not ever. It just wasn't something that factored with him. But there might be a way he could use John later on... it might even get him the answers he wanted. Kill two birds with one stone.

“Whenever you're ready,” Ianto said politely. John turned to go, and Jack stood there blocking his way for a moment. John looked up at him, defiant even now. Even when he was going down there alone. When John came back up, they were going to be working this together, and Jack searched for something in his eyes. What do you know? Jack closed his eyes as John just smiled and breezed past him.

“Thanks,” John said as a parting shot, as if he were disappointed in some way, and Jack turned around quickly, but he had already gone. Ianto was following him on the CCTV. Later, Jack thought, and moved behind Ianto to embrace him, fully intending to do something as payback for that secretive caress at the kitchen table. Especially since there hadn't been any kind of conclusion.

“You have less than ten minutes to get dressed, Sir,” Ianto said pointedly without looking around. Jack smiled.

“I have four minutes to get dressed,” he corrected, “and six to make you dishevelled enough to match me.” Ianto manipulated the CCTV camera controls, but he shivered as Jack's arms closed around him.

“Or, you could put it like that, I suppose,” he said, his voice strained.

“Oh, I think that I can put it anyway I want with you,” Jack said with a little laugh. “Can't I?”

“But...” Ianto said, and then stopped breathing when Jack got right to it without any fuss, caressing him through his clothes. Well, it was only six minutes. “Dishevelled?” he repeated uncertainly after a moment or two. He sounded a little afraid.

“Disorderly, then,” Jack amended, nuzzling Ianto's neck, as his hands began to undo the buttons on Ianto's trousers.

“Erm...” Ianto said, more a groan than a disagreement. “What about – untidy?” he suggested at last. “I can manage untidy.”

“Rumpled,” Jack conceded with a note of finality, not willing to back down or barter any further. He pulled Ianto's hands behind him while he closed his eyes, wanting him to continue where he had left off earlier.

“Ok,” Ianto replied, and then –

“Jack?” he said softly, his voice almost aching as Jack used the time to best advantage.

“Hmm-mm?” he replied, wishing Ianto would stop talking.

“You have to let me control the CCTV. He's getting away.” Jack almost growled as he let Ianto's hands go free, but then turned all of his skilled attention to Ianto's body as a kind of revenge. It might only be six minutes, but Ianto would know just how many seconds that equated to by the end. Ianto gasped as he tried to follow John's progress through the maze of stairs and corridors and Jack grinned when Ianto moaned for him properly. He'd said rumpled. Of course, he'd meant dishevelled.


To be continued...

Author's Note: Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Comments/constructive criticism welcome.