Disclaimer: I still don't own Torchwood. It's really kind of depressing.
A/N: This is pretty AU, and I'm still not 100% sure where I'm going with it. It takes place a little more than a week into Ianto's post-Cyberwoman suspension.
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It had been over a week since Ianto's cybernetic girlfriend had been discovered in the basement and Jack thought it was time to check up on his tea boy. Ianto had needed time alone with his grief and jack needed time to cool his temper. Owen, in a rare display of compassion, had been by to toss the place for guns, knives and pills. Tosh had tried to stop by for tea and sympathy, but had been given the brush off. It was Jack's turn now.
On the drive from the Hub to Ianto's flat, the Captain rehearsed all the things he wanted to say.
He had to figure out the right words to show his condolences while also making sure that Ianto knew that the thing they'd killed wasn't Lisa.
He had to apologize for not being there for the Welshman, for letting things get this far without seeing through the secretiveness, the deception. And, God in heaven, for ordering Ianto to execute his love. He had no excuses for himself on that account. He'd just…felt so betrayed and wanted nothing more than to punish his young lover for being in love with someone else. It was cruelty, pure and simple, and Jack was ashamed.
But..but most of all, he wanted to know how much of the intimacy they'd shared had been manipulation and distraction. How many times he'd followed the quiet man into his bed, explored his body…how much of the passion was a ploy to keep him out of the Hub at night?
Tramping down the insecurity and nervousness churning his stomach, Jack knocked on the door.
When the door was opened, he was nearly shocked into silence. He was so used to seeing Ianto in a suit or nothing at all, but he stood before him now in jeans and a too-big t-shirt, his feet bare and stubble darkening his soft features.
"Hi," Jack finally said, cursing his absurd lack of suaveness.
"What do you want, Jack?"
"Just to talk," He splayed his hands out in what he hoped was an innocent gesture. "Can I come in?"
Ianto pulled the door in, using his body to block the rest of the entrance. "Now's not a good time."
Red flags flew up in Jack's mind. Maybe the incident with the cyberwoman made him too suspicious of secretive behavior, but he just didn't trust the way Ianto's hip was wedged against the door jam, the way his feet had slid apart to a better defensive position. He reached for his Webley without thinking.
Bitter blue eyes followed the motion and hardened. A twisted sneer looked out of place on his features. "Are you going to shoot me because I don't feel like entertaining?"
"What are you hiding now, Ianto?"
The younger man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before moving away from the door. "Come in, then. I'd appreciate it if you left the gun with your coat." He gestured vaguely to a coat rack and padded out of the hall.
Hanging up his greatcoat, Jack meandered in the direction Ianto had left in, taking note of the changes in the flat. The last time he'd been here, the walls were bare and the place was littered in boxes. He'd even teased Ianto about being so obsessive with the mes en place of the Hub and its Archives when his own flat had sat unpacked for months.
He was surprised by the changes. Where the place had been cold and almost institutional before, a pleasant, homey warmth radiated. Pictures hung on the wall next to watercolors of medieval castles and sunsets.
He'd expected Ianto to have been wallowing over the past week, completely broken and possibly suicidal. He'd expected to find the place, still cold and empty, but decorated in empty liquor bottles and half-smoked cigarettes.
He had not expected to find a toddler coloring at Ianto's kitchen table.
"Captain, this is my son."
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A/N 2.0: So, there it is! Suggestions and comments are welcome, as always. Thanks for reading.