Stitching Together
Series: Stitches
Word Count: ~ 900
Summary: This was different, wasn't just a shag he picked up in a pub or a colleague he wanted to screw just because they were pretty and damn what they thought of each other. It was Ianto who took good care of him. And of his coat.
Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoiler: Cyberwoman
Setting: sometime in series one
Author's Note: Written for the torchwood_fest Winter Exchange. Rudika gave five prompts, I took three and made a series out of them. This is Part Three for the prompt Ianto always liked Jack's coat. And Jack rather appreciated Ianto's suit. Everything went on from there. Part One was Coming Apart and Part Two Patching Up and you need to have read them.
Beta: larsinger29, thank you!
Disclaimer: I'm not making money with this fanfic. The tv-show Torchwood and the characters appearing within it belong to their producers and creators. Any similarities to living or dead persons are purely coincidental and not intended.
xxx
Fingers curled under Jack's collar and lifted the heavy wool from his shoulders, exposing him to the cool air of the Hub. Jack sighed and made an effort to relax after being tense and on edge all evening. He watched Ianto hang the coat on a hook in a corner of Jack's office, signalling the end of a long day.
Jack dropped into his chair and took the offered glass of scotch, sipping and watching Ianto run his hands down the length of the coat, checking for damage. Jack let him, appreciating that Ianto realized how much the coat meant to him. He was happy to watch him anyway: the suit jacket hanging over the back of a chair, the shirt sleeves pushed half-way up his arms, the trousers melting against strong legs and a tempting arse. And Jack really was tempted … very. Every single time him and Ianto were alone like this on the end of a day with everyone else at home and the Hub to themselves. And every evening, Jack reminded himself that their relationship as it was now was precarious enough – considering he'd been the one to kill Ianto's girlfriend and Ianto had betrayed him – and he shouldn't risk it just to scratch an itch. As big an itch as Ianto Jones was.
"There's a hole," Ianto said and and turned to Jack with a questioning frown.
Jack sighed. "Jumped over a fence to reach the origin of the Rift activity. Gwen ripped her shirt. You should have heard her curse Torchwood because, apparently, it was brand new." Ianto chuckled and took the coat, getting a small pouch with thread and needle from the top drawer of Jack's desk. Jack shook his head. "You don't need to do this now. Go home."
"I don't mind, sir." He settled in the chair standing in front of Jack's desk while Jack checked his mobile. Gwen had texted him to tell him that she'd arrived home without any problems. And to stop nagging. He couldn't help himself sometimes, though. Just like he couldn't help thinking about Ianto.
It was like a magnetic pull, unstoppable once Jack realized that he and Ianto were becoming closer again, sharing graveyard shifts and Weevil hunts and paperwork. The others didn't notice. Jack liked that. It gave him access to something nobody else had. To Ianto Jones. It was a natural progression in their new-found relationship, in Ianto's healing and Jack's learning to come to terms with the betrayal. It wasn't a big surprise that they found themselves smiling at each other over forms that needed to be signed, laughing about a hunt gone right or Ianto sleeping in Jack's bed when it was too late for him to go home. Usually, even with their twisted past, Jack wouldn't have a problem taking charge, pushing Ianto up against a wall and kissing him until he couldn't breathe, but this was different, wasn't just a shag he picked up in a pub or a colleague he wanted to screw just because they were pretty and damn what they thought of each other. It was Ianto who took good care of him. And of his coat.
He watched Ianto expertly fixing the hole. "How are you, Ianto?" he asked earnestly, like he did every evening.
"Fine, sir," Ianto replied, the answer as well-worn as Jack's question. He looked at him and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Really."
"Good."
Ianto put the thread and needle away and checked the mended spot. "Fixed."
Jack got up when Ianto hung the coat up again. "Thank you."
"It was nothing." He turned to Jack and grinned shyly. "It's an antique. You have to take good care of antiques."
Jack let a bit of flirting show in his voice and eyes. "Admit it, you just love the coat."
"I already told you I did." Ianto ducked his head and then looked at Jack again. "A lot of things were a lie back then but that wasn't." There was not a lot of space between them already, but Ianto took another step closer.
Jack hesitated only for the fraction of a second, then he put his his hands on Ianto's hips, relieved that Ianto didn't pull away. "I'm rather fond of your suits – that wasn't a lie either," he said softly. Ianto's body heat bled through the fabric: soft and smooth shirt cotton against Jack's finger tips and the rough wool of expensive trousers against his palms.
"I know," Ianto said. "It's the reason I wore them when I started out here." He gave a nervous smile and swallowed visibly before he whispered, "It's the reason I'm still wearing them." And then he leaned forward and kissed Jack. The kiss was chaste, fed by insecurity and curiosity alike, and all Jack could do was return it and hope that this was a good idea. Jack's hands slid around Ianto's waist and pressed against the small of his back, pulling him closer.
Ianto always liked Jack's coat. And Jack rather appreciated Ianto's suit. Everything went on from there.
END
08/12