Not the Jackuzzi verse this time. More in the vein of the 'more than this' and 'want to wake up with you' chapters. Because, really, 'Meat' couldn't have happened in the fluffy little jacuzzi world, could it?
Ianto stared deeply into the glass as he warmed it between his hands, watched the liquid swirl, inhaled the scent that drifted up towards his nostrils and finally brought the glass towards his lips, taking a small sip, letting the flavors burst on his tongue.
He'd been saving this bottle of wine for a special occasion. What could be more special than having a gun fired against your temple, only to find the chamber was empty? Luck. Sheer luck. He should have bought a lottery ticket on the way home. Only, that would have felt like tempting fate, – or Torchwood – with the assumption he'd still be alive when the lottery was drawn. The same as keeping this bottle of wine in the rack, waiting for an evening that would probably never happen.
As Ianto placed the glass back down on the coffee table, his eyes fell on the reddened marks left by the rope around his wrists. Beneath the relief he was still alive ran an undercurrent of pride that he'd been able to get out of those ropes by himself. Kicked a gun out of one of those thug's hands, too. And stunned the rest of them, and been collected enough for a quite Bondian line while he was at it.
A far cry from the mess he'd been at the Beacons, with no skills to call on except a solid head.
Ianto supposed he owed it to Jack. It'd been Jack's idea to tackle his resultant fear of being bound, not by avoiding it, but by teaching him how to get out of ropes, cuffs, and a variety of other alien binding devices he'd probably never encounter. At least today proved it hadn't been a complete waste of time, even if Ianto suspected that Jack's determination to overcome Ianto's fear of bondage wasn't entirely professionally motivated.
Jack. Ianto's eyes darkened. Jack, who'd marked Ianto's escape from death today by sending him after the man who'd shot him. No doubt Jack would explain it as putting him back onto the horse that threw him. And maybe he was right, but…..Ianto couldn't help the stab of wistfulness as he compared Jack's reaction to Gwen's. Unprofessional, certainly. Dangerous, possibly. But a demonstration of her love for Rhys, definitely.
And given the way Jack reacted afterwards, further proof of Gwen's humanity, which the rest of them apparently lacked. Probably because they were cold and lonely. It was surprising how much that one hurt. Ianto knew that Jack was lonely, and he'd flattered himself that whatever he and Jack had at least kept the loneliness at bay. Obviously not. Not that he'd expected, or wanted, a public declaration, but he'd not gotten even so much as an eyebrow slanting in his direction by way of acknowledgement.
Ianto sighed and took another sip of his wine. Damned fine drop, this. Opening the bottle tonight was probably not so much celebration as acceptance that he'd never have an occasion to share it with Jack.
The level in the bottle was considerably lower, half-empty in fact, because Ianto was in that sort of mood. He was just wondering whether he could be bothered to find some food to go with it when a key turned in the lock. Ianto didn't even look up from his contemplation of the swirling ruby liquid in his glass. He hadn't given a key to anyone except Jack. Perhaps it was true that to speak, or think; of one's own personal demon had the power to summon them.
Fabric creaked as Jack lowered himself into the armchair across from Ianto. Selecting the armchair instead of crowding onto the couch beside Ianto showed a level of tact he hadn't known Jack possessed. Ianto refused to be impressed by it, regardless.
"You left," Jack said, after an interval during which Ianto completely failed to express his appreciation of Jack's presence.
"You noticed," Ianto answered, regretting the sarcasm only because it soured the taste of his wine.
Jack sighed. "Did you really think I wouldn't?"
"Didn't think you could tear your eyes away from the CCTV long enough," Ianto said, on the principle that the wine was bitter already, so he might as well make the most of it.
"She had Retcon with her," Jack said impatiently. "And after what she said, I didn't trust her not to go off and take it after all. I can't afford to lose anyone on the team."
Ianto met his eyes and held the gaze long enough to be sure Jack registered the eye-roll before returning to his examination of the depths of his wineglass.
"I don't want any of you taking Retcon," Jack insisted. "Or have you forgotten that I had Owen go through your apartment after….."
Jack broke off as Ianto shuddered. He remembered, so far as he remembered anything about the fuzzy period after losing Lisa irrevocably, that Owen had indeed been with Jack the night he was brought back to his flat. At the time, he'd thought they might be packing up his belongings to save them the effort of hanging around after they'd killed him. When they'd finished, he'd been so relieved at being left, alive and alone, in his disarranged dwelling, that he hadn't stopped to consider what they'd been doing all that time.
Still, Ianto wasn't in the mood to feel grateful to Jack tonight, especially over past transgressions. Especially if Jack was still going to hold them….that….over him when by all accounts he'd redeemed himself several times over.
Jack possibly agreed on that point, because he was shifting uncomfortably on his chair. "I didn't mean...," Jack began.
"You never do," Ianto observed.
Ianto flattered himself that the ensuing silence was awkward, but in reality he suspected it was more likely injured, given his ongoing failure be impressed that Jack had condescended to check on him. Hell, it must have taken Jack at least ten minutes to get here from the Hub, and Jack didn't make that sort of effort for just anyone. Unless he anticipated sex out of it, of course. Odd, even silent sarcasm made the wine taste bitter.
"You shouldn't have left without telling anyone," Jack said eventually, his tone openly reproving.
Ianto looked up again, eyebrows higher on his forehead than should have been humanly possible. "How'd you get in, Jack?"
Jack looked back at him, a frown forming. His mouth opened slightly, then closed again with a faint snapping of teeth, literally biting off any words, as if he either didn't know what to say or had thought better of it. In the end he settled for dipping a hand into his pocket, raising it with a key-ring dangling from his index finger.
"Yeah, you used your key," Ianto agreed. "The one I gave you as…as someone who spends enough time in my personal space to have a key of his own. So you aren't here as my boss, and you don't get to throw your authority around. If you want to lecture me about breaking protocols, which God knows you'd never do to any of the others, by the way, then you can do it at work tomorrow."
Jack sighed heavily. "Like that, huh?" he murmured. Ianto decided the melancholy note in his voice had to be faked. Jack didn't do melancholy, at least, not since brooding came into style.
If Jack expected a response, he wasn't going to get one. Ianto was already back to watching his glass, focusing on the liquid because he didn't want to look at the rope burns on his wrists, and the only alternative was watching while Jack made one of his dramatic exits. Besides which, Ianto couldn't risk watching Jack's departure, given the distinct possibility he'd beak down and beg Jack not to leave him to cope with this latest brush with death alone. That would never do, Ianto told himself firmly, not when he was doing so well with the cold shoulder thing. No, he just had to keep his mouth shut for a bit longer, and Jack would leave, secure in the knowledge that he'd made the token effort which would, in his mind at least, preserve his shagging privileges.
Sadly for Ianto's resolve, he had to admit Jack was probably right about that. Ianto knew his weaknesses, and Jack was the chief of them. But at least from now on Ianto would no longer be under the illusion that there was anything more between them. Any such fanciful notions were forever banished by he look on Jack's face as he watched Gwen with Rhys today, as she'd threatened to take Retcon.
Jack didn't look at Ianto like that. The knowledge sat cold in Ianto's mind, sending its mocking tendrils into his heart, and no amount of wine would take the chill away. Jack had never looked at Ianto the way he'd looked at Gwen today, not even in their most intimate moments. Nothing to be done but accept it. Perhaps, eventually, reality would stiffen his resistance, maybe even restore some semblance of pride, and he'd even be able to move on.
But there was no sound of movement. No swishing of coat, no slamming of door. Jack was obviously planning to wait him out, and Ianto had no illusions as to which of them had the nearest breaking point tonight. He allowed his eyes to flitter up, to the armchair across from him where Jack waited. Waited for him because Gwen had chosen Rhys, again. The mere thought made his eyes sting, so Ianto looked hurriedly back down at the wineglass in his hand, then up again sharply at the scraping sound of Jack moving the coffee table, and mourned equally for the remains of the wine and the state of the rug beneath as the bottle wobbled precariously.
Jack caught the wine bottle before it fell, replaced in on the repositioned table, then stood waiting in the space he'd made, hand extended. Ianto's hand drifted up to meet it, seemingly of its own accord.
But the cuff of Ianto's shirt slipped down again, exposing the marks of the ropes on his wrist, and whatever spell Jack was trying to weave broke. Ianto's hand dropped back into his lap, where it joined the other around the stem of the wine glass, perhaps to stop him reaching out again because the empty glass certainly didn't need two hands to hold it. But he didn't want Jack to stay. He really didn't.
"Why are you here, Jack?" Ianto asked tiredly.
"As the guy you've honored with the key to your personal space," Jack answered softly. "I had to make sure you were all right, Ianto."
An intense surge of bitterness unstopped Ianto's tongue. "Of course you did. So much so that you couldn't tear your eyes away from….from Gwen and Rhys….long enough to spare me a glance."
At which he actually bit his tongue. He sounded whiny. He sounded clingy. Either one of which was a guaranteed method of sending Jack sprinting for the door. Which, Ianto reminded himself hastily, was exactly what he wanted.
It was a pity he wasn't as good at lying to himself as he was to everyone else.
But still Jack didn't leave. Instead, Jack's face appeared before Ianto's stubbornly lowered head, accompanied by the muted thud of his knees hitting the carpet. Ianto tried hard not to think of the other times he'd heard that sound, but the tiniest of smiles twisted his lips regardless.
Jack didn't return the smile. His voice held bitterness sharper than the grains of sediment from the dregs of the wine. "Is that what you thought? That I didn't want to look at you? Oh God, Ianto, I couldn't look at you."
Ianto couldn't stop the shudder that ran through him. This was where clingy got him, then. Complete and utter rejection. Probably for the best.
"No, Ianto, damnit, not like that," Jack said. "Christ, I don't know whether to be proud of myself for being so convincing, or furious with you for being so…so bloody dense.
There was a lurch of moment, and Jack's head was thumping into Ianto's stomach, and Jack's arms were around Ianto's waist, and it was just as well his glass was empty or Jack would be washing wine out of his hair. And once Jack got into Ianto's bathroom the odds of getting him of the flat again before morning were slim. Which wasn't what Ianto wanted, not at all, regardless of what his weaker side insisted on hoping for, so it really was a good thing the glass was empty.
He'd be filling it after Jack left though. Maybe more than once. Had to finish the bottle, after all.
But for the moment, Jack was muttering something insistent if indistinguishable against his abdomen and showed no signs of dislodging himself without help. Ianto bent over, somewhat awkwardly, considering the cranium buried in his ribs, put the glass down somewhere safe and used both hands in an attempt to dislodge Jack's skull from his ribcage.
"If I'd looked at you," Jack mumbled, even while attempting to burrow back into his nice safe hiding place. "If I'd even glanced at you, I'd have made as much of a fool of myself as Gwen did. Christ, did you see her Ianto? The tiniest threat to Rhys and she goes postal. Hell, I almost envy her."
Ianto contemplated what he thought he'd heard, pondered the implications, and concluded he'd gotten it wrong.
"Pardon?" he asked, quite politely.
Jack dropped back onto his heels and swiped a sleeve across his eyes.
"He could've killed you. If he'd had just one shot left…."
Ianto cleared his throat. "Yeah," he agreed. "I'd kind of noticed that."
Jack released a shuddering breath. "I can't do this any more, Ianto. I just can't."
Here it was then. It was damned near a relief, after all this time waiting for the axe to fall, because he'd always known that a damaged boy from the estates would never be enough to hold the interest of someone like Jack. Ianto supposed it was kind of flattering that Jack had bothered to make this visit after all. Gave the thing a bit of dignity.
"I can't keep pretending you don't matter," Jack finished. "I can't keep up the act that I'm just your boss."
That was interesting, if confusing. Ianto decided he'd had enough wine. Or maybe not enough. He couldn't work out how even someone like Jack could go from that comment to the inevitable ending. At least, not in the space of a few minutes, and Ianto doubted his ability to maintain his composure if Jack drew this out for much longer. Maybe he ought to help it along. Might even learn a thing or two in the process.
"Do I matter to you?" Ianto asked. "I mean, apart from the coffee and the cleaning up the shit and the 'no strings' sex."
"Damn it, Ianto, of course you do!" Jack's head dropped to Ianto's lap again, where he murmured a string of sulfurous comments into his knees – and not the usual sort either. Ianto watched with mild interest, having decided Jack would, as usual, do this in his own way, and his own time, and clarity was more likely obtained by going with the flow instead of interrupting it. A conclusion which the wine most likely helped him to reach, but then again, that's what alcohol was for.
Jack's head rose again, eyes blinking slowly. He examined Ianto steadily for a moment or two, then slowly drew the younger man's hand between his own. Ianto hissed at the pressure on the rope burns and made a futile effort at pulling his hand free.
Jack pushed the sleeve back so he could inspect the damage. "Rope burns," he muttered, eyes glittering with something that might have been anger.
Ianto shrugged. "Amateurs," he answered. "I suppose they thought if they tied them tight enough it would compensate for the crappy knots."
Jack smiled briefly. "Learned your lessons well, haven't you?" He lowered his head to the wrist cradled within his hands, and something inside Ianto shuddered as Jack's lips pressed against the tender skin. Jack raised his head, met Ianto's eyes, then drew in the other wrist for a repeat performance. Ianto decided that the resultant tingles were entirely in his imagination.
Jack pulled the cuffs carefully back down then hauled himself up to sit beside Ianto.
"Did you ever stop to think why I taught you all that?" Jack asked. "The knots, the cuffs, the hand-to-hand combat."
Ianto frowned at him, trying to ignore the way his skin continued to buzz where Jack's lips had touched. Now was not the time for innuendo, so he dredged for a more acceptable reason, and came up blank.
"I assumed you taught everyone," he answered eventually.
Jack shook his head and huffed an impatient sigh at his own knees. His eyes met Ianto's again, this time with a look of determination that Ianto found thoroughly confusing. "Let's try this again, then. What would you do if I asked you to stay out of the field?"
Ianto frowned. "Assume I'd stuffed up?" he suggested. The frowned deepened. "I haven't, have I?" And yes, that was actual panic in his voice. He'd thought he'd done really well, considering. "No, I didn't stuff up," he said, damned near pleading. "Not today. No, I did good today….."
Jack raised a hand to still the tirade. "Of course you did. You haven't stuffed up, Ianto. Not even close. You did, however, scare the hell out me. So, if I ask you to stay out of the field in future…."
"I'd assume you were trying to bore me out of Torchwood and find another job," Ianto announced, with a sense of triumph. OK, that was it. Jack had tried to scare him out of Torchwood, then attempted to push him out through overwork, now he was trying to bore him out.
"Exactly," Jack approved. "So, since I want to keep you around."
Ianto shook his head, trying to clear it, feeling fairly sure some of this would make sense with a bit less of the wine swishing around in his brain. So, Jack wasn't breaking up with him, nor did he want him out of Torchwood. Which left….What? What was Jack doing here, then? No, it wasn't making sense. Back to the 'go with the flow' thing.
"And I want to keep you safe," Jack continued, much to Ianto's bewilderment. "Hell, I need to keep you safe. And I can't risk doing that myself or I….I become Gwen."
Ianto spluttered. Jack smiled, a slightly broken but altogether beautiful smile. "And having me falling all over you sobbing is hardly conducive to getting you all out safely, is it?"
"So you taught me how to keep myself safe," Ianto said, with lights exploding in his skull and a tiny something growing inside of him that warmed him far better than the wine.
"Bullseye," Jack said. Ianto tried not to bask in the approval, or whatever the hell it was, but he couldn't quite help himself.
Jack raised both of Ianto's hands, kissing his palms this time. The cuffs did their usual job of sliding down his arms, revealing….unblemished skin.
Ianto and Jack looked at the expanse of creamy flesh for a moment, one with confusion, one with triumph.
"I can't do that," Jack announced, "Unless there's considerably more involved than coffee and cleaning." He paused, brow wrinkling in thought. "There is usually sex though," he admitted. "But it's got strings attached. Lots of them."
Ianto gulped, raised his eyes to meet Jack's, then dropped them again, and sent them on a little trip around the room, until they found the bottle which was half-full, not half-empty.
"I think," he began. "I think….we should…..we need….."
Jack smirked.
"We need another glass," Ianto concluded. "There's half a bottle left, and it's too good to waste."
Hope you liked. There is a fluffy-verse chapter in the making, because I've gotten too fond of the scalpel-wielding Rhiannon to let her go just yet.
Thanks for reading.