Title: With A Wish and A Giggle
Genre: Slash, Romance/Angst/Drama
Rating: M/MA
Characters: Torchwood and Doctor Who Ensemble
Pairing: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Toshiko Sato/Owen Harper, Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Amy Pond/Rory Williams, The Doctor/Jack Harkness (onesided)
Word Count: 342
Warning(s): M/M Sex, Mentions of Mpreg, Younger!Jack Showing Up, Language, Violence, Ethereal Alien Beings, Mentions of Caste System Succinct With Alpha/Beta/Omega humans, Omega!Jack, and Far Too Many Creative Liberties Take Because Torchwood Was Stupidly Cancelled and We Never Got Any Real Details
Summary: Ianto and the rest of Torchwood get the shock of their lives when Jack somehow has his mind reversed back to the days before he was a Time Agent. What are they going to do with a seventeen-year-old Jack who's in the body of – well – however old Jack actually is? And will they learn more than ever thought about their fearless Captain?
A/N: Just recently got into Torchwood and Doctor Who and now I'm absolutely hooked. This is set as if Owen never died, but nothing ever came of his flirting with Martha. Also the Cyberwoman episode never happened, which is how I prefer to think anyway. I've wanted to see a story about what would happen if Young!Jack came to Torchwood. This is the result.
Chapter One
"Hmm," Jack said doubtfully, staring at Tosh's computer and clicking between several screens. "Still nothing, and the predictor isn't flaring up with anything all that special either."
Clicking out of the screen and back to her home page Jack rubs his face. "I'm starting to really get suspicious that this dry spell is like a calm before a major storm that only we can't see coming…and I don't like it."
Ianto sighed and sipped his coffee.
It had been three days of no Rift activity and the lack of pressing issues was beginning to drive everyone on the team slowly mad. It was funny and rather pathetic, because one would think having no Earth-ending problems on the immediate horizon would be a good thing. However, much like his fearless boyfriend has pointed out to him several times in the last seventy-two hours: when living where they do and having the job that they have, no news was definitely a sign of really bad news being surely ahead.
His boyfriend was standing on their platform while poking about on Tosh's screen dressed down in his undershirt and slacks, braces hanging loosely at his sides, and no shoes or socks. Truthfully this was how the archivist loved him best.
Relaxed.
Young looking in a way that wasn't necessarily youthful just…more vulnerable somehow. Untouched by the wiles and craziness that his life dished out so very often.
He wishes there was a way for Jack to always be that way, but knew it would never happen. It took months to even get the man to allow this much of domesticity between them and they were practically living together now.
Yet, truthfully, he understood why the man was how he was.
Domesticity equates to love and being settled.
Jack didn't have the luxury of ever being fully settled. He was forever doomed to be a wanderer that continues on and on and on. Possibly until the universe itself dies out.
Ianto wasn't sure how he would feel if he were in Jack's place. Certainly detached to a degree. Apart but not apart of life around him. As if just a bystander to the melee, knowing that whatever happened it wasn't like it'd do much to him in the end.
He'd still be there…just watching.
Waiting.
For the next disaster or catastrophe. In some sick way they may even break up the monotony.
It often led him to wondering why Jack would care then at all. About – well – anything really.
Why he would continue to work with Torchwood. Why he'd still be ready at any given moment to jump and help if the Doctor called. Why he'd continue to waste time with the likes of Ianto – a mere mortal that would probably soon be dead, if not from age then by an attack from aliens or possibly even a stupid mistake here in the Hub.
Jack has an infinity in time and space to see and experience everything trillions of times over. Certainly everything, including sex, would get mundane and boring after a while. Seriously, how could a mind – a human mind – cope with forever?
No matter what happens Jack would still be here. So yes, Ianto understood that Jack couldn't give him the epic romance full of promises of love and always like most little boys and girls dream about. He didn't resent the man for it. He didn't. But he still thought about it sometimes.
That the immortal would be continuing on like those years, however long, with Ianto were nothing more than a blip on a very large never-ending radar. Most likely someday forgotten.
Which is when he usually stopped thinking about it, because that was a surefire way to get yourself very depressed. And he would much prefer to continue loving this man and ignoring the bleak future.
He climbed down the ladder that led to the kitchenette to stand beside the center of his roaming thoughts. "If you're not seeing anything pressing, maybe you should just rest and enjoy the quiet while you can," he pointed out and rested his hand on the man's hip, rubbing his fingers lightly into his lower back. "You know, in case your theory proves correct and we're in some form of a stasis before a major crisis."
Jack turned towards Ianto and gave him a small smile. "If you wanted me to come down with you to bed and stop looking for the sky to fall, really Yan, all you had to do was ask."
The archivist returned the smile but dramatically rolled his eyes as if annoyed, "Really Jack, I just want us to get some rest."
Turning back to the screen with a little smirk and bringing up another program that detailed what is of pressing need to be catalogued, Jack replied, "I don't need a lot of rest."
Grabbing the man from behind and coming to stand directly behind him, Ianto rested his chin on Jack's shoulder and wrapped his arms around his waist. "But Ido. And before you say 'then go rest yourself,' I would sleep much better knowing you were at least laying down, giving your body a chance to relax and recuperate."
Jack sighed and leaned back into his lover's solid form while continuing to type, reveling in the comfort it brought him. It was true that he had fought the allowance of this much closeness to develop between them, but not for what Ianto believed.
At least not completely.
Yes, he was doomed to be forever unsettled and not truly belonging anywhere; but the reason he tried to keep the man at an arm's length was because he didn't want his archivist to see how damaged he really was.
Everyone assumed that Jack was fine. That he didn't think too hard about his many deaths, and learned to let go of those he lost. In fact, Jack wanted them all to think that. He didn't want them to know that he carried it all with him.
Every day, every step he takes is weighted down by all of it. The horrors he's seen, horrors he's felt, horrors he's caused or failed to stop…it's all there simmering under the surface of his skin. Sometimes it felt like a million bee stings just to be touched because of it, so there are days and moments when he actively avoids any kind of contact.
It wasn't a question of love for Jack.
He loved Ianto, was in love with Ianto. The way the man smiled at him never failed to make his heart flutter just a little, and the way the man kissed him set all his nerve endings on fire. But even more than that, he loved Ianto as a whole. Everything about him, including the imperfect things that would drive some people mad. For example, having a near obsession with picking out the sock fuzz that stubbornly gets trapped beneath his toenails.
The other man was honestly the first person in a very long time that Jack felt truly seen and understood by. He never felt like he had to justify himself. Never felt judged or scrutinized. The archivist was a rarity amongst 21st century humans that was smart enough to not ask questions he knew he didn't want an answer to, or foolish enough to pretend to grasp the enormity of the universe.
Ianto knew and was content with his place. Jack loved him for that as well.
But if the Welshman saw who he really was underneath the pretty exterior he had created for himself, he would leave. It'd be too much for him. And that wasn't a fear based on anything Ianto did, but all his past loves and family.
Dangerous.
Unnatural.
Freak.
Wrong.
Just some of the words used to describe him by people he has both loved and hated. And if people he's both loved and hated agree that he's some kind of monster, than it must be true. And call him selfish, just add it to the list, but he wouldn't survive hearing those words come from his boyfriend's beautiful mouth.
It would be the thing that broke any sanity he has left.
So he had to keep it all close to the chest. Continue dreaming of an alternate universe where he was a whole man and actually good enough for this wonderful person.
Yes, he had self esteem issues. Deal with it. He has to.
"I have different ideas about what qualifies as resting," he smirked as his lover snorted.
Ianto pulled back and took a chuckling Jack with him. Turning him around and pushing him against the side of Tosh's desk, he grunted a little with the effort. Jack was actually smiling and it warmed his heart. He loved it when his boyfriend was in a playful mood.
He took the immortal's gorgeous face in his hands leaned forward, "I think I know what you consider resting." He placed a soft kiss on one cheek and then the other. Taking care to be slow and deliberate in his movements, running his hands down the man's front before wrapping them back around his waist. "I'd very much like it though if you at least tried the actual definition."
Jack gasped as he felt those same strong hands grab his arse. He wound his own arms around his lover's neck and started lightly scratching at the nape of his neck. With another smile filled with flagrant intent he responded in his husky voice, "Maybe we can reach a compromise."
It was his lover's turn to give him a smirk.
Thirty minutes later, on the bed they had finally bought and put together down in the bunker, Jack was riding Ianto's lap and moaning at the sense of fullness it brought him in more ways then just the physical. He could never get enough of the Welshman this way. Taking him so completely, body and soul. Making him feel like maybe, just maybe, everything was okay as long as they were together.
It also eased the longing in the dark recesses of himself that he has fought for so long to repress. That need to be dominated that he's done everything he can to try and eradicate. But Ianto brings it out of him, makes him feel like it's okay to surrender like that. That he's safe when they're together.
He had to forcibly push away the thoughts of, "What about when he's gone? It'll never be all right then. You can't let yourself get that attached. What are you doing?"
He let himself be pulled off his lover's large cock and pushed down to lay out along the bed at an almost diagonal, only to have legs be roughly pushed apart swiftly entered again. He cried out at the intensity of his Ianto's resumed thrusting, wrapping his arms and legs around him. He knew the moans and groans coming from him were obscene as he used all his strength to push his arse back onto the rod filling him again and again, but he didn't care.
Not as he dug his nails into the broad back he was holding onto, and not as he grabbed the back of the man's head to force their lips together in a messy kiss filled with tongue and teeth. How could he care when the constant pounding against his prostate drove him to being almost wholly thoughtless altogether? If it weren't for breathing being mostly involuntary, he wouldn't be able to care to remember that either.
"So tight, cariad," Ianto growled. "Love your arse. Always so ready for me," he leaned forward and licked a stripe down his lover's neck before biting down hard enough to leave a bruise.
Jack cried out again in pleasure, then whined slightly when Ianto stopped biting him.
"You love it don't you, Captain?" The Welshman asked with a husky laugh. "Love it when I fuck your sweet arse so good, don't you?"
The immortal was helpless to do anything but call out a, "Yes, Yan, please!"
"Beg me," Ianto said and slowed down slightly, making Jack whimper. "Beg me to fuck you harder."
"Harder!" Jack yelled and whining when he felt the hips slow down even more. "Please, Yan, please fuck me," he gasped, "fuck me harder! Take me, please!"
Ianto slammed back into him and smirked, "Well since you asked so nicely."
Their fevered fucking continued and Jack could little more than hold on, blunt nails digging further and further into the flesh beneath them. He groaned as he accepted another sloppy kiss, wanting more and more. Everything Ianto had to offer him, he wanted it.
And their eyes, blue and blue, met as they pulled back from their furious kiss. They didn't break the gaze as Ianto began fisting his cock in a vice grip, driving him closer and closer to the edge. Jack was unsurprised to feel tears of want for the glorious end begin to gather, making him gasp out a wanton, "Please, Yan, let me cum! Please!" without even registering the words.
The archivist smiled almost tenderly, an odd contrast to their near brutal mating, and nodded at him. Jack's response was almost immediate cumming long and loud; nigh on screaming his young lover's name, and feeling something inside him snap as his lover did the same.
After, when they had floated back down to earth, the pair of them both thought on how lucky they were to have each other. However, they both couldn't help the wishes that flashed through their minds. Ianto, for Jack to be as open and vulnerable as he was here in their regular life with him; and for Jack, to be able to feel like he could show Ianto who he really was.
With one last kiss, Ianto pulled out of his man and helped rearrange them so they had their heads laying on the pillows and their bodies entwined. Jack sighed contentedly as he dug his nose into Yan's neck and breathed in the musky smell. He didn't know what he would do if he suddenly lost this man. He couldn't bear it.
Little did he know Ianto wouldn't be able to either.
~J&I~
A couple of hours later, Jack was awakened.
They both had fallen into a blissful slumber after their intense coupling; but something woke Jack. And not in an awful way like a jerking to wakefulness; more like a caress and soft giggling. Giving him a weird feeling of calm.
At first, since he had just returned from the land of nod, he had thought it was Ianto possibly waking him for another round, but no. His young Welsh boyfriend was soundly asleep with a satisfied smile on his lips.
This started to concern him, despite the calmness that hung in the air like a soft melody.
He got up carefully, wincing slightly at the soreness – his lover was nothing if not thorough when making love – and while trying not to make too much noise and startle the man on the bed, began to gingerly get dressed. Being ever mindful of his sore bum and leg muscles. He decided to steal a pair of the sleep pants Ianto kept in the small armoire in case they were rift sitting at night, like they were tonight. And settled on one of his soft white cotton t-shirts to pull over his head, and after a quick debate decided to pull on a pair of socks for good measure.
No point in being fully dressed when it was probably nothing.
Quiet as a mouse he ascended the ladder leading to his office and padded over to the rift monitor at Tosh's station. Clicking through the necessary screens he was relieved to see nothing of interest pop out at him. But when he got to checking the archive activity there was a weird spike.
Normally this kind of spike would be put down to low radio wave frequencies or possibly some kind very low radiation pulse. But it wasn't either of those. It was almost rift spike-ish in nature, but coming from an artifact. He checked the aisle number as well as the artifact code and wrote them down on a sticky note.
The Captain wondered while heading back to his office to slip on his boots if he should go down in the bunker and wake Ianto. After all, Ianto was the archivist and knew what was down there. Yet he didn't have the heart to wake the man from his deep sleep, knowing he was usually denied this opportunity for actual rest.
In thinking about it, he began to feel a little guilty being so hyped up about the lack of rift activity. His team had regular 21st century human bodies. They needed a semi regular sleep schedule in order to be at full working capacity. And the craziness that Torchwood usually dished out didn't often comply with that. So who was he to be complaining about their break in the tide?
It's not as if they had his immortal energy to keep them running like a damn Energizer bunny.
Silently scolding himself, Jack tied his boot strings in a loose knot and picked the torch up that was on one of his shelves. He would take a look at whatever was causing the spike; and if it were something important, he would go and tell Ianto. If not, he'd take care of it himself.
Wandering down the red-lit, concrete pathway to the archives, Jack shivered. He never noticed how dank and depressing it was down here. Most likely because he rarely ever came down here. He made a mental note to get better lighting and actually spend some of the Hub's grant money for a bit of a makeover. He didn't like the thought of Ianto spending so much of his time in a place so liken to a prison.
Reaching the archive door, he punched in his security code and entered after the soft click of it unlatching.
He reached for the lights only to find them not working. Ianto often complained about the shortages due to the technical interruptions from the alien artifacts. He really needed to sit down with Tosh and find a solution for that. He didn't see the figure standing in the corner smiling at him, but he did hear the light chuckle that rang through the air.
He quickly whipped around and tried to use his torch to see what was making the noise, but there was nothing there.
Growling to himself, he pressed onward.
Walking along the front of the many large iron shelves and flashing his torchlight at the hanging signs, he finally found the number he was looking for. Thus he began the long trek down, looking for the matching code. He didn't have to look for long because there was a flash of blue light that briefly blinded him to his right.
Wincing he turned from it, his eyes having to adjust to how insanely bright it was.
Beginning to feel uneasy he slowly walked closer to the shelf, shielding his eyes slightly with the back of his arm. "This is how every bad thing that's ever happened to you begins," he mutters to himself. The object in question wasn't flashing, it was pulsing, letting out a soft hum that sounded very close to a giggle.
Leaning forward to get a better look at it, he saw it was a blue coin that was about the size of toddler's palm. The coin had a face on it, possibly childlike in nature. He looked to see if there was any description posted of it, but found none. He doesn't remember finding this artifact.
It seemed harmless enough, he surmised, so he picked it up to get a better look at it.
All at once the coin pulsed faster and louder, and instead of giggling noise it sounded almost like a homing beacon sending waves of energy out into the electric fields. Quickly then his entire body seized, contorting this way and that as he felt as if his brain was on fire. He cried out in agony, dropping the coin and his torch feeling as if he was being ripped apart.
Before he felt no more, a tinkling childlike voice said cheerily, "The sad and the strong will be together again, when my job is doth complete."
And with a final blue pulse from the dropped coin, Jack's body dropped onto the cold concrete unconscious.