Title: The Life and Times of Ianto Jones as Witnessed by a Distinguished Feline (8/12)
Pairing: Jack/Ianto main, but there's a whole lot of everything in the mix.
Rating: PG-13-R
Summary: Moses had a good life. In fact, he was inclined to believe he had an exceptionally good life. And then he lost Estelle. Now he has Ianto, and he thinks maybe it was always meant to be. Witness the life and loves of Ianto Jones through the eyes of one extremely observant feline.
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them...I cry a little on the inside typing those words.
Warnings/Spoilers: Oh...just about everything. Also, there is minor bashing...but it hardly counts, it's from a cat ^_^.
Authors notes: A different look into everyone's favorite Tea-boy, through a distinctly different pair of eyes. Reviews are adored and cherished and I would love to hear what everyone thinks! Enjoy.

Part Eight: Wherein Moses Discovers that Humans are not Only Fickle, but Wonderfully Complex…even Stompers

As luck would have it, Moses did not end up having to 'deal' with the problem the next day, as the Stomper had been absentia for once in a long while (internally, Moses relished in having a day off from continuous annoying behavior; even he was beginning to get annoyed with himself). Granted, his Ianto had been absent as well, which usually meant 'Torchwood' business and an undoubtedly dastardly plot to destroy all that was good and fluffy (except felines of course, who would certainly survive anything Humans did not).

Later, his Ianto had come through the door, sans Stomper, and was studiously ignoring the jingle from his little phone, stripping off his jacket and tossing it haphazardly on the floor. Moses knew then that something was horribly amiss. His Ianto almost never failed to answer that jingle, even when horribly sick, depressed, or downright unpleasant; Moses hopped off his couch and made his way over to where the young Human had collapsed on the bed, suit still on and getting more wrinkly by the minute, an arm flung across his eyes. There was a dangling hand and fingers within Moses' reach, so he rubbed against them, his tail curling extra long for good measure, a few times before he felt the fingers twitch in response.

"'Lo, Moe," was the tired, slurred response. Moses meowed in response and hopped up beside his Ianto, sniffing his breath furtively to see if the slurring had anything to do with not being tired (in Moses' experience, slurred voice meant to many funny drinks…which was always caused because of the Stomper). Alas, he smelt nothing unusual so he curled down beside his Ianto and let him pet away tiredly.

The shared a rare, quiet moment, Moses purring and his Ianto petting (these had become so very rare in the wake of Operation Vengeance and his Ianto's terrible behavior towards the Stomper), and Moses was reminded of his Estelle for a brief moment. She being such an older Human, they had many more of these moments to themselves; he felt a brief ache of nostalgia for his lost Estelle but it eased. Time passage and healing wounds and all that rubbish Humans loved to spout off seemed to have a kernel of truth to it after all.

"You know, I don't really remember there being so many apocalyptic workdays in Jack's absence. I think he attracts them." Moses purred in agreement.

They both lapsed back into silence when the phone jingled again. Moses watched his Ianto let out a very put-upon breath of air and reach for the phone with his unoccupied hand (his Ianto had long ago learned that if one hand was petting and the other not, that better be the hand that would answer his phone). He glanced at it, rolled his eyes upwards, but flipped the phone open nonetheless. Sometimes Moses thought his Ianto was much to accommodating towards others; if he had been Human, he wouldn't have answered and whoever had been calling would have done well to just accept and stop calling after that.

"Yes, Jack?" Ah, it was the Stomper…well, that certainly explained the rude persistence.

"I'm not dignifying that with a response…no, it's not a mature question."

Moses caught his Ianto's eye and was somewhat surprised to find a devilish looking smirk playing across his face. He yawned and rolled over onto his back, keeping his attention on the conversation; it promised to be interesting (perhaps he had been a bit hasty in figuring his Ianto as completely befuddled by the Stomper).

"If you like. Oh, do I? Well, sir, preventing Cardiff from being blown up on a consistent basis since your return is a bit taxing. No sir, I'm not inferring that you have anything to do with it at all." While Moses enjoyed a good teasing as much as the next feline, if his Ianto did not become more creative and cruel he was going to lose interest fast. He had to see enough of their ridiculous behavior when the Stomper was here (which sounded like was soon to come, if the phone conversation was an indication), he wasn't going to waste his precious attention for nothing out of the ordinary, thank you.

Moses was spared having to decide as the phone was closed after a rather detached "goodnight sir," his Ianto tossing it to the end of the bed before flopping back down. Moses was all for relaxing, but he almost wished his Ianto would at least change, he was messing his neat suit up ever so badly (felines have an innate urge to be clean at all times, even during sleep). His Ianto let out a soft chuckle, half amused and half something else, not sad but perhaps resigned was the perfect description. His fingers (which had inexplicably stopped petting, a crime Moses had belatedly noticed and was trying hard to not get offended over), resumed their scratching and petting.

"I teased him something awful today, Moe. The world was sinking towards disaster and there was a distinct possibility of nuclear explosion and I was making jokes about his 'bedside manner'…"

Moses had a feeling the 'bedside manner' was somehow a reference to mating, but he couldn't be sure; it was hard to keep up with Human euphemisms for sex. Embarrassment and a kind of bafflement was injected into his Ianto's voice, suggesting that perhaps talk of the Stomper's mating habits was a taboo topic (which Moses had a hard time buying to be honest). His Ianto made a somewhat disgruntled noise that was caught between a laugh and a sigh, his fingers halting in their pleasant scratching.

"Although, the look on Gwen's face alone was worth it…"

Moses yawned widely as his Ianto trailed off. Another day, another almost-apocalypse.

**

"…I don't mind a bit of messiness, Ianto. Do you want me to drop the food on the counter?"

"Sure, Tosh." Moses lifted his head up from the couch, yawning before he perked up considerably. Little Tosh was here, quite possibly one of Moses' favorite Humans (apart from his Ianto of course, but no other Human could really compare to a feline's own, could they?), and she was bearing food. And whenever she brought food, she invariably brought something tasty for Moses as well. He meowed pleasantly and hopped off the couch, rubbing against her leg in greeting, purring loudly. She laughed and bent down to tickle him under his chin, all the while his Ianto gave him a knowing look.

"I swear that cat likes you more than me, Tosh."

"Oh, I don't think so. He's just clever and as figured out that his Auntie Tosh likes to spoil him rotten."

She smiled kindly at his Ianto before she went about unpacking packages of delicious smelling food. Moses loved when they got Indian food…he could smell the shrimp from here. Sure enough, Tosh opened a little box and gave him a few shrimp pieces, which he ate quite happily. He munched as did his Ianto and little Tosh, who had both migrated towards the couch, eating their meal while half watching some documentary on the television, talking quietly about the subject, the ever interesting 'Torchwood,' or their families.

Tosh was usually over a few times a week, but she had been absent for the last few days…and now that Moses had finished his shrimp and was no longer distracted (who honestly expected him to pay attention when there was seafood around, really?) little Tosh seemed a bit melancholy. Moses hated it when she was sad, mainly because she wore that expression much too often and he did not like it when kind Humans were sad. There were too few kind ones as it was, Moses thought; kind people who were always sad just created more bitter Humans. He stretched and hopped up in between the two Humans, curling up at their feet, ignoring his Ianto's half-hearted attempts to shove him off.

"If you want to ask how I'm doing, I promise not to snap at you, Ianto." Tosh's voice was soft and seemingly light, but Moses (and no doubt his Ianto as well) knew better.

"If you don't want to talk about Tommy, I'm certainly not going to make you. I'm not Gwen." His Ianto smiled a bit wickedly at little Tosh, who giggled before trying to control the impulse, struggling to look sheepish. Moses inwardly snickered at the comment as well (he was not the biggest fan of the Human meddler…), but was much more intrigued at the mention of this 'Tommy.'

Tosh was quiet for moment before she spoke again. "I don't mind talking about him. I just—I don't know how to explain it, or him, to anyone. I knew, knew, that it wouldn't work, I mean, he was from 1918 for Pete's sake, we just…oh, this is impossible to explain. I knew he'd have to be sent back and but it didn't matter to me. He was wonderful…and I miss him. But most of all I wished he could've known how brave he was…"

Moses looked up and saw tears in little Tosh's eyes and felt a swell of protectiveness wash over him. He purred deeply and nudged his head against her bent leg, nodding in approval when his Ianto flashed him a pleased look and took Tosh's hand in his own. His Ianto was clever and empathic enough that just his presence was enough (words were terribly overrated… foolish Humans for thinking it made them so superior), so no words or sounds, apart from Moses' purring and the occasional sniffling, were heard for a length. There was something soothing for little Tosh in the silence, for Moses was pleased to notice that her smile, though a bit watery, was much more sincere.

His Ianto smiled and let go of her hand. "Whether he knew it or not doesn't really matter. He saved the world, and he has people who remember and admire him for it, right?"

"Right."

"Then that should be enough. He was a good man."

Tosh giggled for a moment, her face slightly red, eyes holding a tint of sadness still, but it was a different sort of sadness, Moses thought. Humans were funny that way. "He was, wasn't he?"

They both went back to watching the documentary for a moment before little Tosh got a curious look in her dark eyes. She popped a piece of shrimp into her mouth, ignoring Moses' perked up attention (which was rude, if you asked him), focused on his Ianto, though she was pretending she wasn't. And failing miserably (Humans, no subtlety). Predictably, his Ianto noticed, catching her eye and giving her a small smirk.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing! I just—well…this whole time I didn't think anyone would really be able to understand about Tommy and everything, about him being from a different time and what that meant between us but...I was wrong, wasn't I? I mean you understand, you know."

"Know?" Moses felt like coughing up a furball. Must every conversation had with his Ianto somehow loop back to the Stomper and their ill-advised affair (to be honest, Moses thought it was more than just ill advised, but he was trying to be fair)?

"You know, Ianto, know."

"I'm afraid I don't have any idea what you're referring to."

Little Tosh ruffled and scoffed, arching her eyebrow at Ianto's impassive face, which was intently focused on the television. ""Yeah, and I'm a dancing hippopotamus."

"Listen, Tosh, I don't understand." His Ianto set down his carton of rejected food scraps and looked straight at her. "I really don't. Whatever you, or Owen or even Gwen, think I have with Jack is mistaken. There's probably a good deal you're all right about, but this isn't one of them."

Tosh was quiet for moment, but Moses knew it wouldn't last long (the other Human companions of the Stomper hadn't quite cottoned on about his despicable nature). "I don't think that's true."

"Tosh—"

"No! You listen to me, Ianto Jones, I'm not stupid, and Jack is not nearly as clever with the vid-cams as he likes to think he is. I heard and saw you two, Tommy's last night here…he wasn't looking at anyone else when he said those words. I think you do understand, but wish you didn't. Lord knows I wish I didn't…at least, a part of my wishes that."

Moses sat up and stared at both Humans. What was little Tosh talking about? Words that the Stomper had said to his Ianto, words that, by the look on both faces, were important ones (ones that Moses had perhaps a bit hastily written off as beyond the Stomper's capacity or emotional understanding because let's be frank, Moses was positive the Stomper was clearly dysfunctional). He blinked and settled into deep thought while little Tosh's fingers stroked his back. He thought back to the Stomper's previous visits since his impromptu return (the times that Moses paid attention at any rate…sometimes Humans were just plain dull)…there had been differences. They were small and Moses had not really wanted to admit them because he had vengeance that demanded to be enacted (a feline fault at times, even he admits)…but perhaps they had been all his Ianto had wanted. Perhaps they were enough.

Moses rolled his eyes and settled back against the couch as his Ianto spared little Tosh one of those rare grins and asked if she wanted ice cream. Of course, little Tosh answered yes (what rational creature ever said no to ice cream…it was a higher form of milk frozen with flavor). Maybe Moses should just let things progress as nature intended…perhaps his game of vengeance had done enough. Still, didn't mean he had to cuddle up next to the Stomper…he still had a bite coming towards him.

**

A few weeks later, Moses thought that little Tosh had been utterly and horribly mistaken.

He was currently watching his Ianto and the Stomper from a hiding spot behind the couch, ready to defend his Ianto if needs be but…his Ianto was doing quite fine. All Moses really knew about what had led to this moment was someone called Rhys, a space whale (Moses decided to not question the illogical feelings that invoked), a gun and, of course, the Human Gwen.

And, per usual, it was entirely the Stomper's fault (as if that should be a surprise by now, Moses thought acidly).

"—well maybe if you actually told me what the hell is making you mad I wouldn't 'flounder like a beached fish,' Ianto! I get it that Rhys shouldn't know about—"

"This has nothing to do with Rhys. I don't give a fuck if he remembers everything about you, Torchwood, and tells fifty of his friends."

"Then what?"

"At the risk of sounding a tad cliché, if you have to ask then maybe you should think a bit harder. You really can't think of anything, anything that would make me less than pleased with you? Nothing? Well, how about I give you a few reasons. First off, you've completely lost your composure not once, but twice today, all over the same reason, I had a gun aimed at my head and fired, fired Jack, and had the shit kicked out of my promptly before and you have my chase down the same man because Gwen is too much of a mess to do anything—"

"Rhys had been shot! What good could you expect her to be?"

And Moses knew promptly then that the Stomper had made a horrible mistake. His Ianto's face went ice cold and he took a step back. The Stomper looked equally angry and tried to reach out and grab his Ianto…only to receive a very upset punch in the face.

"Only as good as you, but apparently, it was too much to ask."

"Ianto? What the fu—?"

"Not of her…of you."

And then, as if someone had finally switched a light on in the Stomper's head, a horrified realization crossed his face. Moses noted with some vindictive pleasure that he had never quite seen that kind of lost and sad look on the Stomper's face. The Stomper opened his mouth but Ianto shook his head a fraction, that cold fire burning in his eyes.

"No, you're going to listen for once until I'm done. I have never once asked you for anything, I've never expected anything from you or this or what you choose to do when not with me. Even when you knew how I felt, I didn't ask because that's not how this works. And when you left, it was fine, not good, but fine because you never promised and I never asked. But then you came back and have all sorts of notions about what you want with me, things that I had thought were beyond what I had a right to ask for. And wouldn't you know it, I believed them, I believed that whatever happened while you were gone had somehow reorganized your thoughts on 'quaint' little 21st century relationship norms and you actually wanted what I did."

Moses noted with a little trepidation that his Ianto was shaking ever so slightly. The Stomper noticed this as well and lifted his hand up, as if to try and offer comfort, try and quell the shaking, but his Ianto's flinch back made it drop back.

"But hear this, Jack Harkness, I will not ever be your replacement fuck. Someone you'll take because who you want is too preoccupied with having stability to indulge you."

"You're not a replacement fuck, Ianto! I do ca--!"

"Are you sure? Because, I'm not too convinced that's true. You see, Gwen cares about Rhys. She has fucked Owen, led on countless others, and the two of you keep eye fucking with one another…and still, through all of that which would suggest to anyone rational that she doesn't really love Rhys, she still completely loses her head over him when he gets shot.

"…and then, do you want to know the worst part of this whole thing, Jack? It's not that you didn't even seem to comprehend that should that gun have been loaded, I would not be arguing with you right now, or that you didn't offer anything after, anything to reassure me that I was not dead this time…but that you stared after her with the same look I've been staring at you…and you still didn't know anything. That I had been home for hours here before you realized I wasn't around for you to fuck. So, that's why I asked for you to leave me alone for a few days, that's why I can barely look at you right now without wanting to kick the bloody shit out of you…

"…that's why I hate you so much at times."

Moses heard the unspoken 'because I love you and when I finally thought it mattered to you, it's still not what you want.' And he knew the Stomper heard it too.

"…so, if you want to go back to what we were before you left, fine, but I will not continue this and know that while you want this, it's only second best with me."

His Ianto was strong and resolute throughout his entire ultimatum, his voice quiet and at times barely above a whisper, but steady and full of conviction. Moses had never felt prouder of him, never felt like this was the Ianto he knew had existed before all the pain of his Lisa and his confusion over the Stomper and his guilt. And he was finally confident enough in his own strength and not what others had thought of him to voice it. Moses thought he had never looked more beautiful, even with the pale skin and compressed lips.

And then, to possibly everyone's surprise, the Stomper pushed forward and all but crushed his Ianto against him, not budging an inch even when his Ianto's surprise wore off and he tried to push away. Moses knew his Ianto could not see what was happening on the Stomper's face, but Moses could…he could see the honest tears shimmering and the chagrined expression, an expression that showed Moses how stupid the Stomper had realized himself to be, how wrong he had been in his many transgressions, how lucky he truly was to have someone strong enough to point out his faults even though it revealed his own secrets. Moses spotted the honest part of the Stomper's soul again…and it was just as damaged as his Ianto's.

"Ianto…I am so very sorry you ever had cause to doubt this, doubt me…if you knew—if you really knew what I—"

He apparently couldn't finish in words (which Moses thought at this point was acceptable…words were only good for so much after all). He pressed his lips against his Ianto's, hard, as if trying to impart some silent, wordless thought, feeling…and he broke it as abruptly as he began, leaving a glass-eyed, confused expression on his Ianto's face.

"You are not, and will never be, second best, do you understand? I never wanted…you have no idea what my…I have only loved five times since I've been alive and you…I do love you, Ianto, I think it might scare you if you knew how much and what that means for you—"

"Show me."

As if actually speaking the words, showing that Ianto had not been wrong in failing in not falling for the Stomper, were a balm, they came together in a flurry of movement and motion that was only half about physical gratification. Moses may have been young, but felines had an innate understanding of how complex love could be, how painful it could be as empowering, as confusing as clear. A wonderfully horrible collection of oxymorons. He watched the Stomper show what his love was like, how it was violent, possessive and promised no escape but so very careful. He purred as his Ianto accepted it all with that brilliant grace of his, and showing the Stomper that his love was not that different.

And after, Moses curled up on the end of the bed and listened to the Stomper tell his Ianto everything that had happened when he had been missing. In turn, his Ianto told the Stomper everything he had felt and went through since his Lisa had left. Honesty, such a marvelous concept, Moses thought.

And in the morning, Moses resolved that he would let the Stomper pet him if he wanted, but not too much. Had to keep up appearances after all. He curled up and fell asleep to their voices, content in the small measure of understanding and peace that had been gained. At least, until the next 'Torchwood' disaster stuck, Moses thought ruefully.

TBC…