Title: The Ice is Getting Thinner
Prologue: Slow Dancing in a Burning Room
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Jack/John, Ianto/John
Summary: What if, after the loss of not only their teammates but their family, Jack and Ianto are driven further apart instead of closer together, leading them inevitably to the arms of another.
This Part: Jack and Ianto argue about coffee and sex in the office, and then have sex out of the office.
A/N: This takes place shortly after the season finale of Doctor Who.
Dedicated to my lovely asgt, as this was inspired by a late night conversation over facebook and aim, discussing what Jack and Ianto actually say to each other when they fight. Er, sorry, this came out as a little more angsty than I intended, but I promise, it will have its moments!
"You're laundry, sir," said Ianto as he dropped a neatly folded pile on the bed in the basement. Jack noted the hint of venom in her tone. "If that's all you require, sir, I'll just be getting back to the Archives."
Jack touched his shoulder, playing with the collar of his jacket. "Actually…" he leaned in close, murmuring into his ear, "There is something else I require." He let his hand slide over the curve of Ianto's hip.
The younger man deftly maneuvered out of Jack's reach, climbing the first few rungs of the ladder. "Certainly not, sir, you can take care of that yourself, I'm sure," he said as he continued to climb. He could feel Jack's hard gaze following him, and sure enough, the captain followed him to the top.
"Yan," he whined, "The CCTV is off, everyone is gone, it's not like we haven't had sex here before."
"For the last time: I despise nicknames. I am not your sex toy. I am not your slave." Rather than go to the Archives or tidy as he had originally planned, he simply gathered his few belongings and disappeared into the night.
Jack truly had no idea what he'd done wrong, but he knew it had to be more than the pathetic reasons Ianto gave. In fact, he doubted he'd even done anything to truly bother his lover; the truth was more and more lately that Ianto took even Jack's playful teasing the wrong way when once he would've played along.
His clothes were torn roughly from his body, shirt and tie surely ruined in the haste. Lips pressed against his own with bruising force as he was shoved against a wall, hips grinding together.
This coupling had nothing to do with any emotion but anger. Ianto's anger, because he couldn't help but give into his needs, because he couldn't tell Jack how he really felt, because no matter how much of a distraction John was, he could never drive Jack completely from Ianto's mind.
Rain-drenched, weary, Jack stood in front of the locked door, unsure of whether he would receive an answer to his desperate call. The door opened. His dual hunter and hunted eyed him hungrily, closed the distance, pulled him into a searing kiss. And Jack cursed himself for coming here, for giving in to his craving for the familiarity of his past. John was no replacement for Ianto, and Ianto was no replacement for the Doctor.
