I promised Jack in the Jackuzzi (no that wasn't a typo, it's just a indication of the pure silliness of this chapter).
Jack ran a critical eye over the room. Candles, perhaps? He'd always liked the effect of candlelight reflecting off his pale gold skin. Still, they'd probably be overkill. Especially given the guilty realization that he never made that sort of effort when Ianto was around.
The thing was, he didn't need elaborate settings around Ianto. He didn't notice the setting when Ianto was here. But Ianto wasn't here. He was three hours away, shining his particular light over London instead of Cardiff.
Jack missed him. Jack missed him so much it came close to scaring him. He needed a diversion, and this was it. Ianto never had to know.
No candles, then. Jack dimmed the lights instead. Better. The sound of Errol Flynn buckling his swashes drifted through the open door. Ianto didn't share Jack's passion for the Golden Years of Hollywood. Or Errol Flynn. Tonight Jack could indulge, uninterrupted by debates over the relative merits of Errol Flynn versus Kevin Costner wearing tights that always happened whenever they attempted to watch either of the versions of Robin Hood they owned . Another guilty pleasure to add to the list.
Guilty pleasures. The thought soured the mood he'd been trying to create. In fact, looking around once more, the whole scene smacked of 'when the cat's away'. Jack sighed. A warning, and obviously he needed one, that he'd started taking his faithful Welshman for granted.
Jack stomped over to what was beginning to feel like the scene of the crime. Everything was ready. He might as well go through with it. Even if his heart wasn't in it anymore, the remainder of his body would be thankful.
He finally started relaxing into the fruits of all his planning. The pounding, perfect massaging of his skin which human fingertips could never hope to match. The voice floating over the bliss which proved it wasn't only Welsh accents that turned Jack to jelly.
If only he could get Ianto to join him in this particular indulgence, it'd be perfect.
-XXX-
The ringing of the phone didn't jar at all. Jack had been expecting it. Planned for it. The house phone was diverted to his Bluetooth. He wouldn't have to move a muscle.
"Hi Ianto," Jack mumbled lazily, turning slightly so the pressure moved to another section of his back. "How was the trip?"
"Boring," Ianto answered. "And how have you filled the time while I've been gone, Jack?"
Jack swallowed uneasily. He might have been rumbled already. There was suspicion in that tone. And whoever said 'he who hesitates is lost' was right.
"You've done it again, haven't you Jack?" Ianto demanded.
"Don't know what you're talking about," Jack said, in his best fake innocent voice.
"Don't lie to me, Jack," Ianto said ominously. "I can hear voices. And bubbles."
Jack closed his eyes, accepting the guilt. "I'm sorry, Ianto."
Ianto sighed into the phone. "I know we'll never agree on this. I still say Kevin Costner is the only acceptable Robin Hood."
Jack opened his mouth to resume the argument.
"But," Ianto continued firmly. "You can watch the old version all you like, if you'd just stop doing it from the Jacuzzi. We've already had to replace the remote twice."
-XXX-
Jack grinned at the phone, seized the remote control to mute the television, and watched in silent horror as it slipped from between his wet hands to vanish amidst the churning water. At least he'd gotten the TV muted, first. And he had a week to find a replacement remote. Ianto never had to know.
"Jack?"
"Sorry, Ianto," Jack said, not sounding it. "What was that? Good bit on the TV. Didn't hear you. I've muted the set now, though. I'm all yours."
He could hear the eyes rolling, he really could.
"You moved the TV again, didn't you, Jack?"
"I can't see it from the tub, otherwise," Jack explained. "You're rolling your eyes right now, aren't you?"
"Wildly," Ianto agreed. "Futile effort, right?" He sighed, and this time Jack could hear the smile. "Just make sure you dry your hands before you grab the remote, OK?"
Silence. Guilty silence. Another sigh from the other end of the phone.
"You dropped it into the tub again, didn't you Jack?"
"Ummmmm."
"I guess your hands were slippery, huh?" Ianto said.
"Well, I am in the Jacuzzi," Jack agreed. He gave a loud, theatrical sigh of his own. "And it's so empty without you."
He should have known Ianto wouldn't be swayed by the diversion.
"What were your hands slippery from, then?" Ianto asked suspiciously.
"Soap, of course," Jack said indignantly. "I wouldn't waste the other when I knew you were gonna call, would I?"
"Didn't we have a chat about soap in the Jacuzzi, Jack?"
This wasn't how Jack planned for this call to go, not at all. "Ran out of that gel," he mumbled.
Ianto sighed again. He really had an impressive range of sighs. This one signaled forgiveness, though. Well, resignation at least. "What am I going to do with you, Jack?"
Jack grinned. He knew that tone, too. He'd been forgiven already. On with the fun part of the evening. "Since you're asking….."
He'd been wrong. Errol Flynn's accent wasn't a patch on Ianto's.
Hope that was as much fun to read as it was to write. Nah, couldn't have been :)