Title: This Website Closed for Maintenance (or Why Jack Should Not Be Allowed Near the Internet) 1/2
Rating: PG-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Ianto, Rhiannon, Jack, Rhys; Jack/Ianto
Summary: As the Number One Ianto Jones Appreciator, Jack thinks the IJS header could use more... Ianto. You know, more.
Warnings: Somewhat crackish.
Disclaimer: If I owned Torchwood, the boys would have had more screentime together, more sex, and Ianto would still be alive.
A/N: In celebration of the launching of the Ianto Jones Society on LJ.
I have no idea why, but these fics are getting less and less cracky.
Ianto was hunched over, red-eyed in front of the computer in the Archive when his phone rang. Startled by the shrill sound that broke the thick dark silence, he fumbled his phone as he pulled it from his pocket and dropped it with a curse. He hesitated a moment in picking it up, hoping that the fall would have silenced it, but Britney Spears kept going on about a womanizer and he was going to kill Jack tomorrow for messing with his phone. Again.
With a sigh he stooped to pick it up, and pressing the answer button, found Rhiannon's tinny voice screeching through the air before he'd even brought the phone to his ear.
"Rhi?"
"Ianto Gareth Jones!"
"What are doing?" He glanced at the time displayed on the computer. Didn't she have to send the kids to school tomorrow? "Shouldn't you be asleep?"
"Shouldn't you?" she fired back. "I was on the Ianto Jones Society-"
Ianto groaned.
"-ked picture of you as the header!"
"Mmmhm- what?"
"I'd like to know why there's a naked picture of you as the header."
"A naked what?"
"How long haven't you been sleeping? Naked. Picture. Of. You. As. Header."
"Jack," Ianto growled, as he quickly typed in the website's address. Sure enough, the page loaded and Ianto found himself staring into the photoshopped blue eyes of himself in all his naked glory.
Maybe he'd choked. Or squeaked, or made some strangled sound of complete and utter horror because Rhiannon was chattering on in his ear about, well, it was probably about the shame he'd brought to the whole family or something and he wasn't hearing a thing she was saying.
Blood was rushing in his ears. He was pretty sure his face was giving off its own light. And for some reason he could absolutely not fathom, Jack popped into his head, singing "You don't have to put on that red light...!"
Rhiannon was right. He needed sleep. And Jack was banished to the bathtub for a year.
"-ll him?"
"Huh?"
"Weren't you listening to what I was saying?"
"No."
Rhiannon sighed a rush of static and Ianto winced. "When are you going to kill him?"
"Who? Jack?"
"No, the Prime Minister. Oh god, do you think he would have seen this? Wait, didn't you say that Torchwood was under the jurisdiction of the Queen? What if she'd seen this?"
Ianto really didn't want to think of how his next phone call with the Queen would go.
Queen: So, Mr. Jones, how are you doing?
Ianto: Very well, Ma'am.
Queen: I found William wanking over a photo of you the other day. I am not amused.
He was definitely spending too much time with Jack.
Did the Queen actually use words like "wank"?
"-nny sees this!"
"What?"
"You really aren't listening to a word I'm saying, are you?"
"Mmm, yeah, I'll call you back. Go to sleep. Bye. Love you."
"But Ian-"
Ianto hung up on her mid sentence. Then stared at the screen again. It wasn't a manip. He could recall Jack taking it, just something they'd done for fun when they'd felt a little silly one weekend, back when Owen and Tosh had still been alive.
He'd thought it rather tasteful and kept it when he'd thrown the others out. Lying on his side with his chin resting on his palm, smiling shyly at the camera. Ianto had insisted on the strategically place sheet, but it still wasn't a photo he wanted the whole world to see.
Ianto hacked into the IJS and quickly removed the header, replacing it with the original one. Then he shut down the computer and gathered up his jacket and tie. Jack was going to be very, very sorry.
-oOo-
It was seventeen minutes past three in the morning when the doorbell rang. Rhys Williams knew this because he'd cast a bleary eyed glance at the alarm clock before he'd stumbled to the door.
Jack Harkness was smiling sheepishly at him. Had Rhys been more awake, he would have punched the other man in the face. He was however alert enough to notice the reddish palm print on Jack's left cheek.
"Ianto threw you out, huh? What did you do this time?"
"None of your business," Jack mumbled. "Can I stay for the night?" There was an overnight bag clutched in his hand.
Rhys was tempted to say no, but Gwen had told him a while back that Jack had moved completely out of the Hub, and if Rhys were to refuse him, Jack would have nowhere else to go. And Jack must also have gone to the same school of huge bambi eyes as Gwen. Rhys was a sucker for bambi eyes.
"Oh fine." He relented and Jack shuffled slowly into the living room. Rhys pointed at the sofa then tiptoed back into the bedroom to grab some spare blankets and a pillow.
When he came back into the living room, Jack slumped on the couch looking more than a little pathetic. The sight rather unnerved Rhys, and he quickly dumped the spare bedding onto the sofa before turning back to his room, hoping to make a quick retreat into his warm, comfy bed.
"Rhys?"
Rhys turned around.
"Thanks," said Jack quietly.
Rhys nodded. "It's all right, mate," he said, then headed back to sleep.
To be continued...