Sharp Dressed Man, Torchwood FanFic
Master Fic List
TITLE: Sharp Dressed Man
RATING: Umm...let's go with PG-13.
CHARACTERS: Jack/Ianto, mostly; Appearances by Owen, Tosh and a weevil.
WORD COUNT: approx. 1,500
WARNINGS: Clothing!kink; semi-spoilers for Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang, Fragments and Exit Wounds
SUMMARY: Five times Jack appreciated Ianto's waistcoat...and one time Ianto loved Jack's greatcoat.
AO3 Link
Disclaimer: I don't own these lovely men. I just like to watch.
Author's Note: This was written as a holiday gift for verav. She graciously gave me permission to post it for all to read. She requested something where Jack has a "thing" for Ianto wearing vests...and this is what I came up with.
This is my first attempt at actually posting Torchwood fic, so please be kind.
----
The first time Jack really notices it, it’s not so much the waistcoat as it is the timepiece Ianto pulls from its pocket. He’s caught staring and Ianto smirks as he clicks the button before setting the stopwatch on the edge of the desk. It’s a risky move, considering what happened to the last one.
“Ten seconds, sir,” he warns.
Jack tries to undress so quickly one of his braces snaps. At least it draws a chuckle from Ianto.
“There’s penalties for that, sir,” Ianto murmurs, stepping slowly toward Jack. Jack grins and reaches up to snap the second one.
----
It’s a late night for Torchwood Three and Ianto had left to fetch them all some food. He’s gone twenty minutes longer than he should have been when Jack frowns in worry. He’s reaching for his cell phone when it chirps of its own accord.
“Ianto!” he greets happily. “Don’t tell me they’re out of the #7.”
“Not at all sir,” Jack’s grin drops immediately at the strain in the other man’s voice. “’Fraid dinner’s a total loss, though.”
“Ianto?” Jack asks in concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Weevil, sir.” Jack’s pulse quickens a bit as he stands from his desk. “I think I’m going to need a ride home.”
They find Ianto ten minutes later, crammed behind a pair of wheelie bins in an alley a couple of blocks form the Hub. He’s half-conscious and apologizing profusely for the loss of dinner.
“Can it, Ianto!” Jack shouts in frustration as he and Owen work to find the major sources of blood. Ianto blinks up at him in pain and fear and Jack can’t help but lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “None of us were hungry, anyway,” he whispers reassuringly.
“Bloody waistcoat saved his life,” Owen says two hours later, nodding his head toward a pile of bloody cloth.
“His waistcoat?” Jack asks in confusion, remembering distinctly Ianto had not been wearing one when they had found him.
“Wrapped it around his leg,” Owen says absently, examining the line replacing blood to Ianto’s body. “Kept him from bleeding to death before we got there.”
----
“Jesus Jack,” Ianto groans, his breath coming in pants against Jack’s neck as Jack supports most of his weight. Jack grins and adjusts his grip, making Ianto moan again.
The proximity alarm goes off and they scramble for clothes, cursing at each other as they fight over a pair of trousers.
Tosh appears at the top of the steps, eyes wide at the scene in front of her. “Sorry!” she squeaks, hurrying back the way she came.
Jack looks over at Ianto and can’t contain his laughter, falling back onto the floor in a fit of giggles. It’s hard for Ianto’s glare to be intimidating when all he’s wearing are a waistcoat and a pair of boxer briefs.
The temporary embargo he places on sex in the Hub is worth it, though, if for no other reason than to watch Tosh blush and avoid eye contact for months afterward every time Ianto wears a waistcoat to work.
----
Jack doesn’t fail to notice he’s been back a week and Ianto’s yet to wear a waistcoat. Or let them be alone in the same room together for longer than five minutes. He’s not quite sure which is more disappointing, honestly.
Ianto had accepted his invitation for a date, but Jack’s been so busy catching up on all he’s missed, he hasn’t had the time to arrange one. And with the younger man more or less avoiding him, he has no clue how to even broach the subject.
Jack, somehow, solves the problem by getting himself killed. It’s not like he intentionally slips while chasing a Weevil. He definitely doesn’t mean to fall ten stories. He doesn’t even have time to realize he’s ended up just a block from Ianto’s flat.
He gasps back to life with familiar hands holding him steady. It takes a long moment of staring into pale blue eyes before Jack is able to translate ‘Home’ and ‘Safe’ into ‘Ianto.’ He gasps the man’s name and earns a teary smile.
“’Lo Jack,” Ianto says in a small voice. “If you were trying to drop by for a visit, you’re about a block too far east.” Ianto’s trying for humor, but Jack knows him well enough to know he’s masking at least a tad bit of fear.
It’s well past midnight, but Ianto’s wearing jogging clothes. Jack’s about to mourn the lack of a tie, but finds the hoodie drawstrings just as accommodating to wrap around his hand and pull downward.
Ianto’s mouth is warm and desperate against his own and Jack wonders how he lasted so long without the Welshman. Their foreheads rest together as they part for breath.
“Seems to have worked well enough,” Jack whispers.
Ianto drags him home and suddenly waiting for a proper date seems frivolous. They tear at each other’s clothing until they fall, naked, onto Ianto’s bed.
“Promise you’ll still respect me in the morning?” Jack queries. Ianto grins and kisses him.
“Much as I ever did, sir,” Ianto teases lightly.
The next morning, Jack can’t help but feel ridiculously pleased as he buttons the waistcoat on Ianto.
“Do you know how often I dreamt of you and your damn suits?” he asks him fondly. Ianto answers his smile and slowly backs Jack against the bedroom wall.
“Probably as often as I dreamt of you getting me out of them,” he says huskily in Jack’s ear. Jack’s fingers are conveniently already on Ianto’s buttons as the younger man leans closer. It’s not like the others will be into the Hub for another couple of hours anyway.
----
Jack can’t breathe and he panics, flailing in the dark. His fists connect with solid warmth and he latches on, feeling fabric beneath his fingers that’s distantly familiar.
“It’s alright, Jack,” someone is saying. “I’ve got you.” The timbre is soothing and Jack sags against it. “Gwen’ll have the lights back up in a minute.” Jack clings to the voice, even as light flickers above them.
He finds himself sprawled out on a hard floor. Someone’s holding him close and the first thing Jack sees is his hand, tangled in the material of a well-cut waistcoat.
“Y-yan?” he whispers. There’s a deep breath near his ear and the arms around him tighten marginally.
“Yeah Jack?” the man breathes into his hair.
“This is my favorite vest,” Jack whispers. Ianto gives a shaky laugh before Jack feels lips press against his forehead.
“Mine too, sir. You want to go topside?” Jack nods quickly. It’s been a long, long time but it’s familiar, trusting this man. Besides, the fabric feels smooth between his fingers, so unlike the dirt he can still feel clinging to him.
----
“Sometimes I think you have an unhealthy attachment to my garments,” Ianto murmurs sleepily into Jack’s hair. Jack’s head is on his chest, fingers running lazily along the edge of Ianto’s waistcoat.
“You wear them all so well, Yan,” Jack supplies as an answer. He slips his hand under the waistcoat to tease a sensitive nipple. Ianto shivers slightly and Jack smiles. “Do you really want to complain about my…proclivities?” Ianto chuckles softly as Jack kisses his chest.
The younger man tugs him up by the lapels of his great coat, kissing Jack deeply. “Not at all sir,” he murmurs into Jack’s mouth. “Merely agreeing with your superior taste in fashion.” His hands slide to Jack’s bare chest before he flips them over. Jack stares up at him with a smirk.
“The dry cleaning bill is going to be atrocious,” Jack warns. Ianto nips at his jawline.
“Like you ever actually see it,” Ianto murmurs, kissing down Jack’s neck.
“No…but I’ll undoubtedly hear about it from you.” Ianto stops kissing Jack’s neck and lifts his head to frown down at Jack.
“Would you like this waistcoat to disappear?” he asks. Jack grabs Ianto’s hands to stop them from removing the garment.
“No, no!” he cries with a laugh. Ianto leans down and kisses him.
“Just remember, Harkness: you’re the one who obsessed first.” Jack hooks a leg around Ianto’s and turns them again, the sides of his coat falling down on either side of the younger man.
“I do believe, Jones, you loved my coat before I ever saw you in a suit,” Jack counters. Ianto stares up at Jack for a moment before turning his head to laugh loudly. Jack smiles and turns his head back to kiss him.
“It is funny, though,” Ianto says as Jack’s lips move to his neck.
“Hmm?” Jack murmurs into his skin.
“You, of all people, having a little ‘thing’ for clothing.” Jack pauses a moment before laughing deeply against Ianto’s chest.
“Only yours, Ianto,” he whispers, sliding a hand beneath the fabric again. “Only yours.”
/end
TITLE: Sharp Dressed Man
RATING: Umm...let's go with PG-13.
CHARACTERS: Jack/Ianto, mostly; Appearances by Owen, Tosh and a weevil.
WORD COUNT: approx. 1,500
WARNINGS: Clothing!kink; semi-spoilers for Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang, Fragments and Exit Wounds
SUMMARY: Five times Jack appreciated Ianto's waistcoat...and one time Ianto loved Jack's greatcoat.
AO3 Link
Disclaimer: I don't own these lovely men. I just like to watch.
Author's Note: This was written as a holiday gift for verav. She graciously gave me permission to post it for all to read. She requested something where Jack has a "thing" for Ianto wearing vests...and this is what I came up with.
This is my first attempt at actually posting Torchwood fic, so please be kind.
----
The first time Jack really notices it, it’s not so much the waistcoat as it is the timepiece Ianto pulls from its pocket. He’s caught staring and Ianto smirks as he clicks the button before setting the stopwatch on the edge of the desk. It’s a risky move, considering what happened to the last one.
“Ten seconds, sir,” he warns.
Jack tries to undress so quickly one of his braces snaps. At least it draws a chuckle from Ianto.
“There’s penalties for that, sir,” Ianto murmurs, stepping slowly toward Jack. Jack grins and reaches up to snap the second one.
----
It’s a late night for Torchwood Three and Ianto had left to fetch them all some food. He’s gone twenty minutes longer than he should have been when Jack frowns in worry. He’s reaching for his cell phone when it chirps of its own accord.
“Ianto!” he greets happily. “Don’t tell me they’re out of the #7.”
“Not at all sir,” Jack’s grin drops immediately at the strain in the other man’s voice. “’Fraid dinner’s a total loss, though.”
“Ianto?” Jack asks in concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Weevil, sir.” Jack’s pulse quickens a bit as he stands from his desk. “I think I’m going to need a ride home.”
They find Ianto ten minutes later, crammed behind a pair of wheelie bins in an alley a couple of blocks form the Hub. He’s half-conscious and apologizing profusely for the loss of dinner.
“Can it, Ianto!” Jack shouts in frustration as he and Owen work to find the major sources of blood. Ianto blinks up at him in pain and fear and Jack can’t help but lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “None of us were hungry, anyway,” he whispers reassuringly.
“Bloody waistcoat saved his life,” Owen says two hours later, nodding his head toward a pile of bloody cloth.
“His waistcoat?” Jack asks in confusion, remembering distinctly Ianto had not been wearing one when they had found him.
“Wrapped it around his leg,” Owen says absently, examining the line replacing blood to Ianto’s body. “Kept him from bleeding to death before we got there.”
----
“Jesus Jack,” Ianto groans, his breath coming in pants against Jack’s neck as Jack supports most of his weight. Jack grins and adjusts his grip, making Ianto moan again.
The proximity alarm goes off and they scramble for clothes, cursing at each other as they fight over a pair of trousers.
Tosh appears at the top of the steps, eyes wide at the scene in front of her. “Sorry!” she squeaks, hurrying back the way she came.
Jack looks over at Ianto and can’t contain his laughter, falling back onto the floor in a fit of giggles. It’s hard for Ianto’s glare to be intimidating when all he’s wearing are a waistcoat and a pair of boxer briefs.
The temporary embargo he places on sex in the Hub is worth it, though, if for no other reason than to watch Tosh blush and avoid eye contact for months afterward every time Ianto wears a waistcoat to work.
----
Jack doesn’t fail to notice he’s been back a week and Ianto’s yet to wear a waistcoat. Or let them be alone in the same room together for longer than five minutes. He’s not quite sure which is more disappointing, honestly.
Ianto had accepted his invitation for a date, but Jack’s been so busy catching up on all he’s missed, he hasn’t had the time to arrange one. And with the younger man more or less avoiding him, he has no clue how to even broach the subject.
Jack, somehow, solves the problem by getting himself killed. It’s not like he intentionally slips while chasing a Weevil. He definitely doesn’t mean to fall ten stories. He doesn’t even have time to realize he’s ended up just a block from Ianto’s flat.
He gasps back to life with familiar hands holding him steady. It takes a long moment of staring into pale blue eyes before Jack is able to translate ‘Home’ and ‘Safe’ into ‘Ianto.’ He gasps the man’s name and earns a teary smile.
“’Lo Jack,” Ianto says in a small voice. “If you were trying to drop by for a visit, you’re about a block too far east.” Ianto’s trying for humor, but Jack knows him well enough to know he’s masking at least a tad bit of fear.
It’s well past midnight, but Ianto’s wearing jogging clothes. Jack’s about to mourn the lack of a tie, but finds the hoodie drawstrings just as accommodating to wrap around his hand and pull downward.
Ianto’s mouth is warm and desperate against his own and Jack wonders how he lasted so long without the Welshman. Their foreheads rest together as they part for breath.
“Seems to have worked well enough,” Jack whispers.
Ianto drags him home and suddenly waiting for a proper date seems frivolous. They tear at each other’s clothing until they fall, naked, onto Ianto’s bed.
“Promise you’ll still respect me in the morning?” Jack queries. Ianto grins and kisses him.
“Much as I ever did, sir,” Ianto teases lightly.
The next morning, Jack can’t help but feel ridiculously pleased as he buttons the waistcoat on Ianto.
“Do you know how often I dreamt of you and your damn suits?” he asks him fondly. Ianto answers his smile and slowly backs Jack against the bedroom wall.
“Probably as often as I dreamt of you getting me out of them,” he says huskily in Jack’s ear. Jack’s fingers are conveniently already on Ianto’s buttons as the younger man leans closer. It’s not like the others will be into the Hub for another couple of hours anyway.
----
Jack can’t breathe and he panics, flailing in the dark. His fists connect with solid warmth and he latches on, feeling fabric beneath his fingers that’s distantly familiar.
“It’s alright, Jack,” someone is saying. “I’ve got you.” The timbre is soothing and Jack sags against it. “Gwen’ll have the lights back up in a minute.” Jack clings to the voice, even as light flickers above them.
He finds himself sprawled out on a hard floor. Someone’s holding him close and the first thing Jack sees is his hand, tangled in the material of a well-cut waistcoat.
“Y-yan?” he whispers. There’s a deep breath near his ear and the arms around him tighten marginally.
“Yeah Jack?” the man breathes into his hair.
“This is my favorite vest,” Jack whispers. Ianto gives a shaky laugh before Jack feels lips press against his forehead.
“Mine too, sir. You want to go topside?” Jack nods quickly. It’s been a long, long time but it’s familiar, trusting this man. Besides, the fabric feels smooth between his fingers, so unlike the dirt he can still feel clinging to him.
----
“Sometimes I think you have an unhealthy attachment to my garments,” Ianto murmurs sleepily into Jack’s hair. Jack’s head is on his chest, fingers running lazily along the edge of Ianto’s waistcoat.
“You wear them all so well, Yan,” Jack supplies as an answer. He slips his hand under the waistcoat to tease a sensitive nipple. Ianto shivers slightly and Jack smiles. “Do you really want to complain about my…proclivities?” Ianto chuckles softly as Jack kisses his chest.
The younger man tugs him up by the lapels of his great coat, kissing Jack deeply. “Not at all sir,” he murmurs into Jack’s mouth. “Merely agreeing with your superior taste in fashion.” His hands slide to Jack’s bare chest before he flips them over. Jack stares up at him with a smirk.
“The dry cleaning bill is going to be atrocious,” Jack warns. Ianto nips at his jawline.
“Like you ever actually see it,” Ianto murmurs, kissing down Jack’s neck.
“No…but I’ll undoubtedly hear about it from you.” Ianto stops kissing Jack’s neck and lifts his head to frown down at Jack.
“Would you like this waistcoat to disappear?” he asks. Jack grabs Ianto’s hands to stop them from removing the garment.
“No, no!” he cries with a laugh. Ianto leans down and kisses him.
“Just remember, Harkness: you’re the one who obsessed first.” Jack hooks a leg around Ianto’s and turns them again, the sides of his coat falling down on either side of the younger man.
“I do believe, Jones, you loved my coat before I ever saw you in a suit,” Jack counters. Ianto stares up at Jack for a moment before turning his head to laugh loudly. Jack smiles and turns his head back to kiss him.
“It is funny, though,” Ianto says as Jack’s lips move to his neck.
“Hmm?” Jack murmurs into his skin.
“You, of all people, having a little ‘thing’ for clothing.” Jack pauses a moment before laughing deeply against Ianto’s chest.
“Only yours, Ianto,” he whispers, sliding a hand beneath the fabric again. “Only yours.”
/end