TW fic: "Drunkling, Je Vous Aime Beaucoup" (Jack/Tosh/Ianto, PG, 1,968 words, The Alcohol Annals)
In the interest of full disclosure: I made moony baby sounds as I wrote this. And possibly teared up a bit. >>
I am still cynical and cold-hearted, ok? I STILL THINK ROMANCE IS STUPID. Really, I do. I do. This fic means nothing.
Title: Drunkling, Je Vous Aime Beaucoup
Word Count: 1,968
Rating: PG for porn
Pairing: Jack/Tosh/Ianto
Warning: Schmoopy. And how.
Summary: Toshiko performs a sacred ceremony to become a priest-mechanic (passing aliens have a habit of needing repairs) and then gets to dance. She's drunk, Ianto's overwhelmed, and Jack is angling for a cuddlefest threesome. More saccharine than it sounds.
A/N: Title derived and lyrics included from "Darling, Je Vous Aime Beaucoup," written by Anna Sosenko and performed by Nat King Cole.
Series: The Alcohol Annals
Teaser: Ianto brushed his lips against her hairline, wondering how she managed to be so small and soft. Wondering how he had kept himself from noticing it this long or, to be honest, had kept himself from noticing that he'd noticed. He was always more careful when he stirred the sugar in her coffee.
Drunkling, Je Vous Aime Beaucoup
"I think she's drunk," Jack whispered in Ianto's ear.
"I do believe that was the point of the ritual," Ianto murmured back. He looked away from Toshiko for a moment, overwhelmed maybe by the sight of her bare back, the flex of her elbow as she spun the metal gears. "Are you going to tell her that they distilled the ceremonial drink in the engine room?" He studied Jack's face in the half-light and it was the exact grin (half leer and half proud) that he expected.
"Do you think I should tell her that it's some fancy alien wine?" asked Jack. He affected a ridiculous accent: "Ah, a very good year, right from the lush vineyards of, you know, whatever place has lush vineyards."
"Bordeaux is a good choice," said Ianto. "Entre-deux-Mers or possibly Sauternes, if you'd like to be more specific. A small falsehood in this situation would be the most kind-hearted option."
"I dunno," said Jack. "I like the sound of 'alien moonshine,' myself." His palm slipped into the crook of Ianto's elbow to keep them together in the press of observers, or perhaps because he liked touching Ianto when no-one else could see and Ianto, technically, couldn't complain about impropriety. Not that he ever complained too heartily, not once Jack brought out the deer-look in his eyes and teased his wet mouth open.
In the ceremonial circle, Tosh made the laser crescent-wrench leap and gleam. She flitted through the heart of a mechanical contraption, vermillion gears and gold-plated screw threads, hanging pistons, a coil flushed with something black. One thousand and twenty two moving parts they had been told, some sacred number in a religion that worshiped mechanics. The spaceship underwent adoration instead of maintenance.
Toshiko's fingers trickled across a swath of lights and wires and then the clackity-whir of the machine coasted slow, muted, stopped. Tosh grinned.
The captain of the ship, third eyeball and all, stepped to the center of the circle (ducking under some low-hanging cog wheels) and said something that sounded important.
"He's calling the ceremony to an end," Jack translated quietly into Ianto's ear. "He says that Toshiko completed the task correctly, and is now elected to their echelon of priest-mechanics. That's a coveted appointment, you know."
"It's so coveted, they couldn't find anyone from their own planet to volunteer," muttered Ianto. "Can she start fixing their spaceship now, or does she have to twirl some flaming batons, first?" Ianto watched the crowd of gathered aliens-some with as many as five eyes, but otherwise curiously human-filter out of the room.
Jack only suppressed his smirk because he felt a sense of diplomatic duty. "I already told you, their resident priest-mechanic had a run-in with a wolf-beast of Venus. He's missing too many fingers."
"There aren't any wolf-beasts on Venus," Ianto scoffed. He swiveled to stare at Jack. "Are there?"
"Different Venus," Jack assured him. "Ten or twelve star systems over, famous for its technicolor pita bread. You know, she should probably sober up before she tackles the engine," he pointed out as Toshiko wove her way over to them. "Great job!" he said to her, drawing her in for a hug and kissing the top of her head.
"Oh, it was pretty easy, actually," Tosh said, beaming broad and shiny-eyed. The tip of her nose was somewhat pink. "Some of the systems are remarkably similar to Earth computers, and the more mechanical stuff seemed to have a lot to do with those carburetors we pulled in from the Rift last year, do you remember Jack? The ones that were slightly rusted but Ianto found the right chemical compound to strip the rust and that was very clever, Ianto. You're very clever all the time, really."
"Ah, thank you," Ianto said, blinking.
Toshiko hefted the laser crescent wrench in her hand, then gave it to Jack to put in one of his over-large pockets. "You know," she said musingly, "this isn't a bad method for certification because I always say, if you really know anything about fixing things you should know how to do it drunk and with your eyes closed. I didn't have my eyes closed here, of course, this was alien technology after all, but now that I've done it once I probably could do it with my eyes closed." The captain came over and she paused expectantly, but the captain pulled Jack aside so she turned back to Ianto. "A lot of people fix things drunk anyway, at least I think my car mechanic does," she said. "I'm going to switch mechanics, actually. I've taken my car in three times and it's still making odd noises."
She twisted to gaze at the ceremonial machine, the ruched silk of her costume shushing against her skin, and Ianto found the deep-V back of it very distracting. A few ribbons didn't do much for modesty, not with Toshiko's muscles sliding under the skin like that. Not with the dimples peeking out from the small of her back.
"Would you like to wear my suit jacket, at least until we get your clothes back?" he asked, halfway to shrugging it off already.
"Oh goodness no," said Tosh. "It's very warm in here. I mean, I know this dress is a bit on the small side but I feel so flushed. I guess it's the wine. It shows off my legs, though, don't you think?" She did a little spin, the skirt flaring out.
Jack, still in discussion with the captain, glanced over and grinned.
"I would say so, yes," said Ianto. "It's a very nice color on you." He couldn't help smiling at Tosh, but didn't dare look at Jack because he was sure that Jack would be laughing at him.
Jack swooped back in as the captain moved off. "They'll escort us to the engine room in a few hours. You look gorgeous," Jack said wholeheartedly, then clutched for the tips of Toshiko's fingers to spin her around again. "You should go dancing in that dress."
"You mean to a club?" Toshiko asked, melding pliantly into the sweetheart hold Jack had her in, snuggled against his chest.
"Make a real splash," said Jack, and twirled her back into a ballroom pose. "Go swing dancing."
"Stuck in the past as always," Ianto called out as Jack led Toshiko in a fox trot, humming a strain from Glen Miller.
"Sue me for being a romantic," Jack called back, divided between winking at Ianto and giving a melty smile at Tosh's furrowed brow as she concentrated on the steps. "Sing us some Nat King Cole, Ianto," he asked.
"Ianto sings?" Toshiko asked, head snapping up. She may have stumbled in the dance steps there, but all Ianto really noticed was the swivel of her hips (the sway of her breasts) as she recovered.
"Not terribly well," Ianto said hastily. "Just as much as anyone else, I suppose."
Toshiko gave Jack a skeptical look. "Is he lying?"
"Absolutely," said Jack. "I think we'll have to ease him into it." He spun Toshiko into Ianto's personal space before either could react, slipped her into Ianto's arms with an efficiency that left them both breathless. Ianto went still for a moment and Jack leaned in, pressed Toshiko into him. "Show the girl a good time, friend," he murmured, lips tickling Ianto's ear. He winked and slid his hands down Ianto's arms, guiding them into place: right hand cupped around Toshiko's, left hand splayed-Ianto resisted briefly, prolonged the moment of sliding across skin and silk-in the hollow of her back. Jack stepped back and began to sing something slow.
Toshiko squeezed her hand on Ianto's shoulder. Her head tipped back, fringed with hair and heavy, and she gave him a rueful smile.
"What a pushy bugger," muttered Ianto, and curled the corner of his lips. He couldn't move much more than that; the plane where his body touched Toshiko's was in a field of stasis, pulse withheld, breath rising slowly in the swell of Jack's old love song.
"Darling, je vous aime beaucoup. Je ne sais pas what to do..."
"Well, come on, then," Tosh said, plucking at Ianto's shoulder. "He's going to insist."
Ianto obligingly began to shuffle in a clockwise circle, fingers ruffling indecisively over the tensile shift of skin beneath them. His thumbnail worried at the edge of a ribbon.
"You know you've completely stolen my heart," Jack crooned.
"Oh!" gasped Toshiko.
Ianto blinked rapidly, keeping up the rhythm with intense concentration. Jack winked. "Pardon?" Ianto asked.
"While I was fixing that machine," Toshiko said, "I knew there was something interesting about the configuration of the compression coils, but I could quite put my finger on it. More interesting than being, you know, completely alien. And I just realized that if I modify the coils in the heating system core of the Hub to mimic this configuration somewhat-only in the sense of the physical shapes, you understand, the beryllium-iron alloy composition of the coils is, of course, entirely inappropriate, and the internal filters aren't nearly as good as our charcoal screens, even if they are over a hundred years old, and honestly I think we should replace them soon but it's not that big of an issue as long as the air purifier system is still in place, although I do intend to fix the purge-intervals on that as soon as I figure out how to make them compatible with the air circulation system's purge-intervals without too much trouble."
"The whole problem with air systems, purge-intervals are," Ianto said solemnly. "Personally, I think all purge-intervals should be taken out back and shot." He brushed his lips against her hairline, wondering how she managed to be so small and soft. Wondering how he had kept himself from noticing it this long or, to be honest, had kept himself from noticing that he'd noticed. He was always more careful when he stirred the sugar in her coffee.
"Ah! Cherie, my love for you is très, très forte," Jack was singing. He rolled his hips, paying at least as much attention to the few straggler aliens still in the room as he was to Ianto and Tosh. "Wish my French were good enough. I'd tell you so much more!"
Toshiko sighed and laid her head against Ianto's chest, fingers curling on the back of his neck. "If I use this dexihendricular spatial organization instead of the octagonal one we've got now," she said quietly, "then I can buttress the current energy supply with an ion-lithium cross-electrical neutron flow siphoned from that broken Axophorin computer we have. That would lower our dependence on civilian electricity by a huge amount. I hope you offer me your suit-jacket again sometime, when it's cooler," she said suddenly, then pressed her face deeper into his chest as if to erase her words. She added in a whisper, "I've always liked your suits."
Jack circled back to them on the phrasing "But I hope that you compris all the things you mean to me-Ianto, sing the refrain," he said. He stepped in behind Toshiko and wrapped his arm around Ianto's shoulder, hand over Toshiko's at the neck. His other hand curled around both of theirs in mid-air, twining fingers. "I like your idea about the dexihendricular spatial organization," he said as Toshiko arched her neck (head pressing backwards, breasts pressing into....) "But what about the conversion blowback at the lateral juncture?"
"That's a good question," Toshiko breathed, and tilted her head to let Jack run his lips along the corner of her jaw.
Ianto pulled in a breath and sang, not full or smooth like Jack, not confident, but floating tender in the space between them: "Darlings, je vous aime beaucoup. I love you, yes I do."
.
I am still cynical and cold-hearted, ok? I STILL THINK ROMANCE IS STUPID. Really, I do. I do. This fic means nothing.
Title: Drunkling, Je Vous Aime Beaucoup
Word Count: 1,968
Rating: PG for porn
Pairing: Jack/Tosh/Ianto
Warning: Schmoopy. And how.
Summary: Toshiko performs a sacred ceremony to become a priest-mechanic (passing aliens have a habit of needing repairs) and then gets to dance. She's drunk, Ianto's overwhelmed, and Jack is angling for a cuddlefest threesome. More saccharine than it sounds.
A/N: Title derived and lyrics included from "Darling, Je Vous Aime Beaucoup," written by Anna Sosenko and performed by Nat King Cole.
Series: The Alcohol Annals
Teaser: Ianto brushed his lips against her hairline, wondering how she managed to be so small and soft. Wondering how he had kept himself from noticing it this long or, to be honest, had kept himself from noticing that he'd noticed. He was always more careful when he stirred the sugar in her coffee.
Drunkling, Je Vous Aime Beaucoup
"I think she's drunk," Jack whispered in Ianto's ear.
"I do believe that was the point of the ritual," Ianto murmured back. He looked away from Toshiko for a moment, overwhelmed maybe by the sight of her bare back, the flex of her elbow as she spun the metal gears. "Are you going to tell her that they distilled the ceremonial drink in the engine room?" He studied Jack's face in the half-light and it was the exact grin (half leer and half proud) that he expected.
"Do you think I should tell her that it's some fancy alien wine?" asked Jack. He affected a ridiculous accent: "Ah, a very good year, right from the lush vineyards of, you know, whatever place has lush vineyards."
"Bordeaux is a good choice," said Ianto. "Entre-deux-Mers or possibly Sauternes, if you'd like to be more specific. A small falsehood in this situation would be the most kind-hearted option."
"I dunno," said Jack. "I like the sound of 'alien moonshine,' myself." His palm slipped into the crook of Ianto's elbow to keep them together in the press of observers, or perhaps because he liked touching Ianto when no-one else could see and Ianto, technically, couldn't complain about impropriety. Not that he ever complained too heartily, not once Jack brought out the deer-look in his eyes and teased his wet mouth open.
In the ceremonial circle, Tosh made the laser crescent-wrench leap and gleam. She flitted through the heart of a mechanical contraption, vermillion gears and gold-plated screw threads, hanging pistons, a coil flushed with something black. One thousand and twenty two moving parts they had been told, some sacred number in a religion that worshiped mechanics. The spaceship underwent adoration instead of maintenance.
Toshiko's fingers trickled across a swath of lights and wires and then the clackity-whir of the machine coasted slow, muted, stopped. Tosh grinned.
The captain of the ship, third eyeball and all, stepped to the center of the circle (ducking under some low-hanging cog wheels) and said something that sounded important.
"He's calling the ceremony to an end," Jack translated quietly into Ianto's ear. "He says that Toshiko completed the task correctly, and is now elected to their echelon of priest-mechanics. That's a coveted appointment, you know."
"It's so coveted, they couldn't find anyone from their own planet to volunteer," muttered Ianto. "Can she start fixing their spaceship now, or does she have to twirl some flaming batons, first?" Ianto watched the crowd of gathered aliens-some with as many as five eyes, but otherwise curiously human-filter out of the room.
Jack only suppressed his smirk because he felt a sense of diplomatic duty. "I already told you, their resident priest-mechanic had a run-in with a wolf-beast of Venus. He's missing too many fingers."
"There aren't any wolf-beasts on Venus," Ianto scoffed. He swiveled to stare at Jack. "Are there?"
"Different Venus," Jack assured him. "Ten or twelve star systems over, famous for its technicolor pita bread. You know, she should probably sober up before she tackles the engine," he pointed out as Toshiko wove her way over to them. "Great job!" he said to her, drawing her in for a hug and kissing the top of her head.
"Oh, it was pretty easy, actually," Tosh said, beaming broad and shiny-eyed. The tip of her nose was somewhat pink. "Some of the systems are remarkably similar to Earth computers, and the more mechanical stuff seemed to have a lot to do with those carburetors we pulled in from the Rift last year, do you remember Jack? The ones that were slightly rusted but Ianto found the right chemical compound to strip the rust and that was very clever, Ianto. You're very clever all the time, really."
"Ah, thank you," Ianto said, blinking.
Toshiko hefted the laser crescent wrench in her hand, then gave it to Jack to put in one of his over-large pockets. "You know," she said musingly, "this isn't a bad method for certification because I always say, if you really know anything about fixing things you should know how to do it drunk and with your eyes closed. I didn't have my eyes closed here, of course, this was alien technology after all, but now that I've done it once I probably could do it with my eyes closed." The captain came over and she paused expectantly, but the captain pulled Jack aside so she turned back to Ianto. "A lot of people fix things drunk anyway, at least I think my car mechanic does," she said. "I'm going to switch mechanics, actually. I've taken my car in three times and it's still making odd noises."
She twisted to gaze at the ceremonial machine, the ruched silk of her costume shushing against her skin, and Ianto found the deep-V back of it very distracting. A few ribbons didn't do much for modesty, not with Toshiko's muscles sliding under the skin like that. Not with the dimples peeking out from the small of her back.
"Would you like to wear my suit jacket, at least until we get your clothes back?" he asked, halfway to shrugging it off already.
"Oh goodness no," said Tosh. "It's very warm in here. I mean, I know this dress is a bit on the small side but I feel so flushed. I guess it's the wine. It shows off my legs, though, don't you think?" She did a little spin, the skirt flaring out.
Jack, still in discussion with the captain, glanced over and grinned.
"I would say so, yes," said Ianto. "It's a very nice color on you." He couldn't help smiling at Tosh, but didn't dare look at Jack because he was sure that Jack would be laughing at him.
Jack swooped back in as the captain moved off. "They'll escort us to the engine room in a few hours. You look gorgeous," Jack said wholeheartedly, then clutched for the tips of Toshiko's fingers to spin her around again. "You should go dancing in that dress."
"You mean to a club?" Toshiko asked, melding pliantly into the sweetheart hold Jack had her in, snuggled against his chest.
"Make a real splash," said Jack, and twirled her back into a ballroom pose. "Go swing dancing."
"Stuck in the past as always," Ianto called out as Jack led Toshiko in a fox trot, humming a strain from Glen Miller.
"Sue me for being a romantic," Jack called back, divided between winking at Ianto and giving a melty smile at Tosh's furrowed brow as she concentrated on the steps. "Sing us some Nat King Cole, Ianto," he asked.
"Ianto sings?" Toshiko asked, head snapping up. She may have stumbled in the dance steps there, but all Ianto really noticed was the swivel of her hips (the sway of her breasts) as she recovered.
"Not terribly well," Ianto said hastily. "Just as much as anyone else, I suppose."
Toshiko gave Jack a skeptical look. "Is he lying?"
"Absolutely," said Jack. "I think we'll have to ease him into it." He spun Toshiko into Ianto's personal space before either could react, slipped her into Ianto's arms with an efficiency that left them both breathless. Ianto went still for a moment and Jack leaned in, pressed Toshiko into him. "Show the girl a good time, friend," he murmured, lips tickling Ianto's ear. He winked and slid his hands down Ianto's arms, guiding them into place: right hand cupped around Toshiko's, left hand splayed-Ianto resisted briefly, prolonged the moment of sliding across skin and silk-in the hollow of her back. Jack stepped back and began to sing something slow.
Toshiko squeezed her hand on Ianto's shoulder. Her head tipped back, fringed with hair and heavy, and she gave him a rueful smile.
"What a pushy bugger," muttered Ianto, and curled the corner of his lips. He couldn't move much more than that; the plane where his body touched Toshiko's was in a field of stasis, pulse withheld, breath rising slowly in the swell of Jack's old love song.
"Darling, je vous aime beaucoup. Je ne sais pas what to do..."
"Well, come on, then," Tosh said, plucking at Ianto's shoulder. "He's going to insist."
Ianto obligingly began to shuffle in a clockwise circle, fingers ruffling indecisively over the tensile shift of skin beneath them. His thumbnail worried at the edge of a ribbon.
"You know you've completely stolen my heart," Jack crooned.
"Oh!" gasped Toshiko.
Ianto blinked rapidly, keeping up the rhythm with intense concentration. Jack winked. "Pardon?" Ianto asked.
"While I was fixing that machine," Toshiko said, "I knew there was something interesting about the configuration of the compression coils, but I could quite put my finger on it. More interesting than being, you know, completely alien. And I just realized that if I modify the coils in the heating system core of the Hub to mimic this configuration somewhat-only in the sense of the physical shapes, you understand, the beryllium-iron alloy composition of the coils is, of course, entirely inappropriate, and the internal filters aren't nearly as good as our charcoal screens, even if they are over a hundred years old, and honestly I think we should replace them soon but it's not that big of an issue as long as the air purifier system is still in place, although I do intend to fix the purge-intervals on that as soon as I figure out how to make them compatible with the air circulation system's purge-intervals without too much trouble."
"The whole problem with air systems, purge-intervals are," Ianto said solemnly. "Personally, I think all purge-intervals should be taken out back and shot." He brushed his lips against her hairline, wondering how she managed to be so small and soft. Wondering how he had kept himself from noticing it this long or, to be honest, had kept himself from noticing that he'd noticed. He was always more careful when he stirred the sugar in her coffee.
"Ah! Cherie, my love for you is très, très forte," Jack was singing. He rolled his hips, paying at least as much attention to the few straggler aliens still in the room as he was to Ianto and Tosh. "Wish my French were good enough. I'd tell you so much more!"
Toshiko sighed and laid her head against Ianto's chest, fingers curling on the back of his neck. "If I use this dexihendricular spatial organization instead of the octagonal one we've got now," she said quietly, "then I can buttress the current energy supply with an ion-lithium cross-electrical neutron flow siphoned from that broken Axophorin computer we have. That would lower our dependence on civilian electricity by a huge amount. I hope you offer me your suit-jacket again sometime, when it's cooler," she said suddenly, then pressed her face deeper into his chest as if to erase her words. She added in a whisper, "I've always liked your suits."
Jack circled back to them on the phrasing "But I hope that you compris all the things you mean to me-Ianto, sing the refrain," he said. He stepped in behind Toshiko and wrapped his arm around Ianto's shoulder, hand over Toshiko's at the neck. His other hand curled around both of theirs in mid-air, twining fingers. "I like your idea about the dexihendricular spatial organization," he said as Toshiko arched her neck (head pressing backwards, breasts pressing into....) "But what about the conversion blowback at the lateral juncture?"
"That's a good question," Toshiko breathed, and tilted her head to let Jack run his lips along the corner of her jaw.
Ianto pulled in a breath and sang, not full or smooth like Jack, not confident, but floating tender in the space between them: "Darlings, je vous aime beaucoup. I love you, yes I do."
.