Who He Wants To Be

by Gracefultree

Chapter 4: New Patterns of Behavior

Posted: September 6, 2014

A/N: You know how you've already written 100k words in a story and one comment from a reviewer sparks a strong need to re-write an entire chapter? And all of a sudden the 2500-word chapter 4 becomes 3700-words each chapters 4 & 5 because it nearly tripled in length? Well, that's what happened to me. Thank you, oh lovely readers, for the inspiration! I've never had such a positive response to the start of a story before (except that one time when I asked if a one-shot should be more and it morphed into nearly 50 chapters of goodness, but that doesn't count because I asked for the feedback), and I'm loving that you like it so much.

The premise, for those who are new: Ianto and Jack met at a bar. They had sex. Jack said his name was James, and now they're doing the 'fuck buddy' thing.

Enjoy!

Oh, almost forgot to mention: warnings for angst.

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Ianto thought James was the most attractive person he'd ever met, and found he didn't care as much as he thought he might (or should) that he was sleeping with a man. James smelled wonderful, even when covered in sweat and other fluids, and just his lingering scent on Ianto's pillow often gave Ianto an erection when he first crawled into bed at night. He quickly acquired a taste for James's flavors, just as James loved his. And the man was beautiful! Strong, with well-defined muscles, but not overly-huge, he was just an inch taller than Ianto. It took a little while for Ianto to get used to leaning up for kisses, but an inch wasn't a lot and he loved the kisses so much that he didn't care.

There was something about the combination of James's expressive mouth, perfect teeth and cleft chin that made Ianto weak in the knees. And when he laughed or smiled? Ianto was lost. And those eyes! He could drown in those eyes.

James was smart, funny, quirky, and everything Ianto would want in a friend. That they had such great sexual chemistry was an added bonus, and Ianto vowed to enjoy every moment as long as they were together. When they were apart he spent hours just thinking about James and imagining things they could do together. Needless to say, James was up for everything Ianto suggested, often coming back with more suggestions of his own that Ianto then willingly and enthusiastically embraced trying. That was how they ended up at an archery range, where James tried to 'teach' Ianto how to shoot in the most inappropriate way possible. Ianto hadn't even known there were archery ranges in London.

They quickly settled into a pattern: James would come to London on Saturday afternoon, as early as he could manage, and stay through very early Monday morning, kissing Ianto goodbye with a promise for a call or text when he got back to Cardiff. He informed Ianto, when he asked on their third weekend together, that he'd set up a rota for his staff to watch the lab on the weekends while he was away, and though they grumbled, getting to come in to work an hour later during the week seemed to make up for it. There was a place for them to sleep and plenty of distractions if they wanted to play video games or watch movies while the experiments percolated and the scanners and computer programs did their thing. Also, any takeaway they might order those nights went on the company credit card.

One of James's staff, a man named Owen, bitched every single time his name came up, but did it anyway, proving to James that he was dedicated enough to their work. Besides, his bitching was more about not getting to go out on the pull rather than having to be at work overnight, so James didn't pay it much mind. Owen always seemed to find time to go out during the week, if he wanted to.

Saturday became their 'unofficial date night,' with movies and dinners and coming home late to Ianto's flat for hours of sex, while Sundays were often spent lazing in bed, doing things around town or hanging out with Ianto's roommates or friends, ending the night with more sex. Steve had finally gotten laid by the time James came to visit the second time, and the jealous edge to some of his conversations with Ianto virtually disappeared. Ianto pointedly ignored any odd looks that might still be thrown his way, preferring that to an actual confrontation with his roommate that neither of them wanted to have.

He and James got to know each other, shared stories, pizzas, bad television, and lots of sex. They took turns cooking for each other on Sundays, since they both enjoyed it, and Steve and Gary benefited from the improved cuisine around the house and the unofficial competition to make the best food. Ianto, though not nearly as skilled as James, and certainly not into experimental cooking, enjoyed watching James moving around his kitchen. Recipes were created for a reason, he told James frequently, and sometimes the things James wanted to combine made Ianto shudder. Going to the market with James had been an adventure in and of itself, and Ianto vowed after the first time that he would stock the fridge before he arrived to avoid the embarrassment of being seen with a grown man acting like an excited child making (rather loud, shouted across an entire aisle) lewd comments about the shapes of the vegetables or begging for treats and chocolate.

They went to museums, where they actively competed to see who knew more about certain exhibits. Ianto knew more about art, but James beat him hands down at 20th century history, though he also had a passion for dinosaurs and Pompeii, in addition to his (huge) obsession with World War II. They went to movies, too, and Ianto came to appreciate James's humor and ideas about the sci-fi movies and how they could be more 'realistic.' He refrained from saying anything he learned at work about aliens and alien technology. Besides, it was kind of fun making out with James in the back row, almost like he was a teenager again, doing something illicit.

James had a wild (or lewd) story for just about every situation, and the way he talked about his life sometimes startled Ianto with its combination of frank honesty and utter unbelievability. James's stories of work and his team bordered on the awe-inspiring, when Ianto understood them, which wasn't often. James never gave details, though Ianto figured out rather quickly that the other man on the team, Owen, was a medical doctor, and that the two women were more interested in the technological side of their work.

Half the things James said about himself seemed impossible for him to have done, given his age, and yet the way he said them rang with truth. There was no way he could have lived through all of the things he talked about, but — Ianto wasn't totally convinced it was a lie or story. He knew from work that time travel was possible, so maybe James had done it and wasn't comfortable telling Ianto about it because it would be too fantastical to believe. James's favorite book was The Time Machine, after all. Ianto certainly couldn't mention the time-traveling alien that changed his face every so often that was the Enemy Number One of Torchwood and why the Institute had been founded in the first place.

After a month of James paying for most of the movies, meals out, and museum fees, Ianto joked over dessert that James was his sugar daddy, at which point James made a biting comment about people who were too young to know their assholes from their elbows, threw a pile of notes on the table that was far too large, and stormed out of the restaurant, so furious that he didn't notice people scurrying out of his way. Ianto caught up to him on the street, apologized profusely, and listened to James explain (far too loudly and publicly for Ianto's comfort) just how insulting he'd been. They shagged the argument away an hour later, after Ianto promised to be more thoughtful about off-color jokes.

Once James left, Ianto spent hours researching gay slang and insults and anything he could think of, so he wouldn't make the same mistake again. He might not be gay, and James might claim that his sexuality was 'whoever strikes my fancy at any given moment,' but that didn't excuse being rude or insulting.

He talked to his roommates about it, too, since listening to their opinions often helped him understand James better. Gary, as supportive as always, reassured him that James didn't hate him over the comment, the fact that he'd gone home with Ianto afterwards proof enough of that. He'd be back, Gary said, and hadn't they already talked twice since, and it was only Tuesday? Steve muttered something uncomplimentary about Ianto's choice of jokes and started going into great detail about everything he'd been learning about gay culture and the dynamics of dating an older man.

"We're not dating!" Ianto protested loudly, slamming his beer on the table.

Steve rolled his eyes and shared a look with Gary before answering. "Fine. Fucking an older man," he spat, making the word seem dirty and nasty. "You can't live in Egypt forever."

"What are you talking about?"

"Egypt? De Nial?"

Ianto looked at him blankly.

"Steve," Gary said, a warning in his voice. Steve ignored it.

"Denial, Ianto. You're in denial. You're dating him! There's nothing else it could be. Get your head out of your arse and admit it already!"

"Steve!" Gary shouted, standing. "Stop it!"

Ianto felt his world tilt alarmingly. Were they dating? No! They couldn't be. James promised they'd go at Ianto's pace. He'd promised they were just fuck buddies. He'd —

"Ianto, try to calm down, ok?" Gary said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Try to take deep breaths."

"I'm not upset. I'm not —" But Ianto couldn't finish his sentence because he couldn't get enough air. Where was the air? Why couldn't he breathe?

He wasn't ready to date a man. He wasn't ready to do more than have sex with James. He wasn't ready for —

"Oh, and now he's having a panic attack," Steve muttered sarcastically. "Perfect. Can't even talk about it, can you?" he taunted Ianto. "You'll fuck him six ways to Sunday but won't —"

"Steve, get out of here!" Gary barked. "You're making it worse."

Ianto slipped sideways, almost falling out of his chair. He caught himself on the table edge, the whole table shaking violently. His beer tipped over. He watched the brown liquid fall to the floor, dripping across the tiles. He'd have to clean it up before it stained them. He'd have to scrub the floor now, to make sure it was clean for when James came on Saturday. When James —

Oh, God. James. James. He'd have to stop seeing James. He couldn't risk dating him. He couldn't risk it being anything more than sex. Because if Steve thought they were dating, James must think so, too. And that meant they were dating, and he wasn't ready. He didn't want to date a man. He wasn't gay. He knew that. He wasn't.

It was just sex. Only sex. That's what they'd agreed! James said he was fine with it! They couldn't be dating. No. Not yet. Not when Ianto wasn't ready. Not when the only thing he knew was that he liked the sex.

But if James thought they were dating, and Ianto didn't —

James would leave him.

He wasn't ready to lose James! He couldn't. Not yet. Not when he'd just found him.

He —

Gary slammed a small pill bottle on the table in front of Ianto, startling him out of his panicked thoughts. He filled a tumbler three-quarters with vodka and added orange juice to top it off.

"Take one," he ordered. "And drink all that."

"Huh?" Ianto asked stupidly.

"It'll take the edge off the anxiety and get you to sleep," Gary explained. "You can deal with the rest in the morning."

Very slowly, Ianto picked up the bottle and looked at the label. Clonazepam. He met Gary's eyes, raised his eyebrow in question.

"I used to get anxiety attacks my first year in uni," Gary explained. "They went away, but I kept the prescription up to date, just in case. Take it," he added in a more gentle voice than he'd used earlier.

"It says you're not supposed to drink," Ianto protested.

"Just once, it'll be fine. I survived doing it a dozen times. And it looks like you need it."

Ianto swallowed one of the small, green pills and gulped the vodka.

With everything fuzzy around the edges, Ianto found himself in his bedroom, lying on his bed, staring at the blank white of his ceiling thinking he needed to put some stars up, maybe even constellations. It would make the ceiling more interesting, and James might like it. In the distance, through his closed door, across the flat, through Steve's closed door, he could hear Gary and Steve yelling at each other, shouting, cursing. He couldn't hear the words, and he rather thought that was a good thing. He knew they were yelling about him, about James, about how Steve was out of line to taunt Ianto like he was doing.

Ianto picked up his mobile.

"I can't talk now," James said before Ianto could even say hello. In the background he heard police sirens. "I'll call you tomorrow, ok?" James hung up, leaving Ianto with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

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Ianto called James on his lunch break the next day, leaving the building to get some privacy from the gossip of Torchwood Tower. He couldn't wait any longer. He needed to hear James's voice. He needed reassurance he wouldn't have to leave James, or that James would leave him.

"Ianto!" James answered in his usually enthusiastic way. "What's up, gorgeous? I was going to call you tonight."

"Um, do you have time to talk? Like, now?" Ianto blurted, his anxiety cresting. He knew his voice sounded slightly panicked. He didn't care. He couldn't care, with the air feeling thin and the tall buildings of the financial district looming above him. He hoped they didn't fall on him like they seemed ready to do. "Please?" he begged. He'd never heard himself sound so needy. He hated it, but couldn't help it.

At the beginning, on their very first date, James had said Ianto could talk to him about anything. Now he was going to test that. Was it true that James would listen and not judge him? Was it true that James would help him understand? He hoped it was true. He needed it to be true.

"Hold on," James said. Ianto heard him talking, softer, indicating he moved the phone from his ear, or covered it with his hand. "Toshiko, server maintenance. Then update the security settings for the whole place. I ran into that reporter again at the coffee shop. He keeps stalking me, we'll have to let Owen deal with him, but I'd rather not let it get to that point. Suzie, I want the monthly budget on my desk by the end of the day. And try not to let Owen spend £500 on lab rats again! Owen, you've got three autopsies, right? I want them in size order. Do the biggest one first. Everyone got it?" James paused, and Ianto heard a door open and close and James walking. "All right, I'm free. What's going on? You sound upset."

"I —" Ianto broke off, not sure what to say or how to start. "I, um, I'm really really sorry about this weekend! I didn't mean to insult you! I'm sorry!"

"Ianto, we talked about this. It's fine. You don't need to get worked up about it."

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean, it is, but… I just don't know — I don't know what this is, and it's freaking me out and I don't want to stop, but it's going too fast and Steve said —"

"Woah, slow down. Take a deep breath with me. Take another one. Good. And another. There, feel better? Start at the beginning."

"Steve said —" Ianto stopped. How could he tell James what Steve said? How could he talk about it without insulting James? Or hurting his feelings? Or making things more complicated? Or making James want to leave him?

"What did he say?" James's voice was soft, gentle, kind. It gave Ianto a modicum of hope that things would be ok. But not enough. He still worried. He still thought James would leave him, no matter how kind he was, no matter how much he'd promised they'd go slowly, that Ianto would make the decisions about what they did. If he thought they were dating, and Ianto didn't, he'd leave him. Ianto was sure of it.

"He said —" Ianto stopped again. He couldn't say it, he couldn't —

"Deep breath, darling. Just spit it out."

"He said I was in denial. He said we're dating."

"You're not dating Steve," James said with a chuckle. "I think I'd know if you were."

"No, he said you and me were dating," Ianto corrected. He found a wall to lean against, appreciating the concrete as a way to keep standing.

"We're not," James said after a small pause. In the background, another door closed and James settled into his creaky desk chair. "Unless you've changed your mind?"

"No! I'm not — We're not —"

"Easy, Ianto. I know we're not. So what if he says it? We know what's really happening. That's the important thing, right? That you and me know?"

"I guess. But —"

"Darling, he's jealous. He wants a boyfriend and doesn't have one, and he's projecting that onto our relationship. He thinks that because he wants to date a guy, you do, too. You don't, and that's fine. We've been over this. Nothing to get worked up over."

"You think he's jealous?" Ianto asked, wondering if it was true.

"I can pretty much guarantee it."

"How do you know?"

James laughed softly. "I've been around. I know his type. He'll settle down once he has someone. Regular sex helps with that kind of thing."

"But you and me…" Ianto trailed off.

"…Are just having sex," James finished for him. "That's all you want, and that's fine. I'll tell you the same thing every day, if you need me to."

"But —"

"Sweetheart, don't let him ruin what we have, ok? We're good. We're enjoying each other's company. That's all we need to focus on."

Ianto took a deep breath and tried to let it out slowly. It came out as a whoosh. "But you want to date me!" he protested. "You said so that first night. At the cafe. You said you wanted more than casual!"

James paused, and Ianto heard the creak of his chair again. Did he imagine the sound of James typing? He must have. There's no way James would be on his computer when Ianto was like this. No way. When James spoke again, there was a catch in his voice. "Can I be honest? Really honest?"

"I —"

"I didn't know you yet," James said, talking over Ianto's muted attempt at speaking. "I wanted to leave our options open. I wanted to be available for whatever you wanted, whatever you needed. There are basically two kinds of men who have sex with other men in the 21st century; those who just have sex with them, and those who date them, who want relationships and marriage and everything a straight couple gets. I didn't know which kind you were."

"So you do want to date me!" Ianto exclaimed.

"Darling, darling, I —" James broke off, his voice cracking in a way Ianto had never heard before. He sounded upset. He sounded on the verge of tears. "Darling, I want you any way you'll have me. You're an amazing man. So much more so than I thought when I first met you. You're funny and intelligent and creative and kind. I don't have enough kindness in my life. I — I don't want to lose you from my life because Steve's being a dick." Ianto heard him sniff. Was he crying now? Shit!

"I don't need labels, Ianto. I don't need definitions. If all we are is fuck buddies for the rest of the time we know each other, that's fine, because giving us a label or defining what we're doing isn't worth you having a panic attack in the middle of the street like you're doing! You don't deserve that, and if you think I want to date you and that's what has you standing there against the wall gasping for air, forget about it. I don't. I want you happy. I want you to feel good about this. And I don't know what else I can say to convince you, but it's all true!"

"James," Ianto whispered, awed by the emotion in the man's voice. He was genuinely upset, genuinely crying. And that was worse than any of Ianto's panic attacks, because this was James, a sweet, wonderful man — A man who cared about him more than anyone else, except maybe his mother, and she was dead…

"Please, Ianto. Let it go. Don't think I want more than I do."

"Are you crying?" Ianto asked, feeling his knees shaking.

"Maybe a little," James admitted. Ianto heard him wipe his eyes, sniffle. His legs collapsed under him and he sat on the ground, grunting at the impact of his arse and the concrete. He held his head in his free hand, the other clutching his phone to his ear as tears threatened to overwhelm him, also.

"James, I —" Suddenly, he was crying, too, and it wasn't just James's quiet tears, but huge sobs, gasping, loud, desperate sobs, torn from his throat as if he would die if they didn't escape. As if he would die if James —

"Ianto!"

"Don't leave me!" Ianto begged. "Please don't leave me! Please. Oh, God, please, please don't. Don't leave me. Don't leave me," he chanted, and he knew he was rocking back and forth. He probably looked like he was having a fit. But he was having a fit, wasn't he? Sobbing, anxious, sitting on the ground in an alley in the middle of the day, hugging his knees and begging James not to leave him. "Please don't leave. Please."

"I'm not leaving," James practically shouted. "I'm not going anywhere! I'm not leaving you! Listen to me, Ianto. Listen. I'm staying as long as you want me, you hear that? As long as you want me. However you want me."

"Really?" Ianto whispered, struggling to blow his nose quickly so he could hear James's answer.

"I'm not leaving you," James repeated firmly. "I'd never leave you over something like a label or whatever." He paused. "Do you want me to come tonight?"

"You have work," Ianto protested, though not very hard.

"Screw that. Do you want me to come?"

Ianto let out another sobbing breath, almost choking. "Yes."

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tbc