Can I just say how bloody excited I am to get this story rolling? Oh, gosh - I can't even describe it. I saw the movie "Contagion" today with my friend, and after it ended for some reason the idea for this story just sparked in my mind and I was like, "I HAVE TO GET HOME AND WRITE THIS." Just this scene played out in my head, though - luckily I have a storyline forming on paper that's being written and revised and re-revised, so it's making me more and more excited as it comes together. (: Please let me know what you think! I have a feeling you readers will be able to better grasp what's going on once I post the official first chapter, but for now, here is a smidget!
- MJM.
If it weren't for Jack Harkness and his stupid fucking need to be different, Ianto would not have been where he was right now.
His wrists were beginning to burn every time he showed the smallest signs of struggle against the handcuffs he was wearing. When he woke up from the sedated state of unconscious those tyrannical assholes put him in, his found that he was shackled into a large line with the rest of his "team" (he was really beginning to hate that word; fuck team unity – he wanted out of this idiotic scheme) and the oh so irritating American had his chest pressed up against Ianto's back. As much as Ianto couldn't blame him, for he had his own front pressed up against Tosh's backside as they sat there in chains, the way Jack was breathing down his neck with his lips literally ghosting along the skin was one of the most unwelcomed sensations Ianto had experienced in quite a while.
"Go to hell, Harkness." He hissed, jamming his elbow backwards into whatever part of the American it made contact with. He assumed it was torso, as he heard a swift exhale of oxygen escape the man behind him, and a small groan of pain. Ianto felt no shame.
"Oh, so we're back on a last name basis now, are we?" Jack spat against the spot where Ianto's neck met his shoulder. "Last time I checked, it wasn't my plan that got us caught."
"No, in fact, it was your whole concept of trying to overthrow a government! Well done – I must say your combination of wit and charm has really pulled through for us this time." Ianto's acidic tone lashed back, and he could feel Toshiko tense up in front of him at his words. He wasn't surprised, though; the Japanese woman had been part of White with Ianto since they were young children, and it was very rare that he ever got genuinely angry at someone about literally anything. But when he was irked, oh, did people hear about it.
"Well, I'm so sorry that you decided to join me." Jack's voice sounded weaker, as if he truly realized then what he had gotten them into. "And I'm sorry – about Lisa… I never really apologized until now, but I really am sorry, Ianto."
"Oh, fuck you, Jack. You're only saying that now because your heroic plan to create world peace took it up the arse by the higher ups." The last thing he needed to think about was Lisa. Especially at a time like this when he couldn't give that primitive dunce sitting behind him a black eye. Instead, he struggled against the cuffs, and once again it felt as if hot straightening irons were being pressed against his skin.
"You're only being such an ignorant bastard because you've come to the conclusion that you royally fucked yourself over!" Their verbose argument was slowly climbing in volume. It wasn't like it really mattered, anyway. Ianto was sure that no one besides him and the rest of the undercover Grey's were in here, and besides him, Jack and Tosh, they were all still unconscious. Jack's words ground out through gritted teeth against Ianto's hairline, and the Welshman shook him off.
"I wouldn't have gotten into anything if you hadn't sidled up to me with your bloody asinine-"
"Will you two just shut up?" Tosh snapped, and both men turned to face the lithe frame that sat in front of Ianto, shaking like a leaf. Ianto had to correct himself; she was trembling out of anger, not fright. "I can't check if Owen is still breathing with you two squawking at one another."
At this, Ianto silenced, and he could hear an exhausted sigh sound from Jack. Leaning back, he realized the American's shoulder was much closer than he expected and he rested against the crook of Jack's neck. For some reason, Ianto so badly needed to swing his fists at the man who had his lips pressed against his temple in a comforting gesture. But at the same, he wanted to be held in Jack's arms even though the man who originally came from the opposing forces blamed Ianto for their whole screw up when the feelings should have only been directed towards Jack. It made no sense. Did it matter? Not at the moment, no. So he let his eyes flutter shut as Jack whispered reassurances into his sweaty, blood-matted hair and waited to hear a positive response from Toshiko that Owen was alright.
When the door swung open, the figure that walked in with a confidently sadistic bounce in its step was the last person Ianto expected to see.