The Hub 2 Challenge: 4
Title: Marry, Shag or Cliff?
Rating: M (PG 15)
Spoilers: up to and including Journey’s End; vague team speculation based on characters from that episode but nothing you haven’t seen before.
Genre: crack, fluff, wing!fic
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Gwen/Rhys
Summary: Wish machines, a game of marry, shag or cliff that has gone on for more than a week now, wings and a shakeup from routine.
#
“Okay. Jack, Martha and Mickey.”
“Words cannot express how sick I am of this game,” said Ianto, closing his eyes. “Can. Not. Express.”
“I was thinking shag Jack, marry Martha, cliff Mickey.”
“That’s only because you don’t know Mickey very well,” Ianto said. “I usually end up being the one who gets cliffed, and it’s by that criterion, and it hurts every time.”
“Who could cliff you? Not even Rhys cliffed you.”
“I think that’s got more to do with the fact that he wants Jack as far away from you as possible,” Ianto replied, blowing the dust off one of the boxes from under Owen’s desk. “Who knew Owen had so much crap he’d never sorted through?”
“I had a bit of an idea,” said Gwen. “Good grief, he’s still got something plugged in down here.”
“With an alien adaptor,” Ianto said, pulling a face.
Jack would be fielding some questions about why and how there was one of those purple adaptors (the ones that they always needed more of because then they could connect future tech to the mains) sitting under Owen’s old desk in the Hub.
“What is it?” Ianto asked.
“Looks like a phone,” Gwen said, picking it up and examining it.
“Don’t point that thing at me,” Ianto warned. “Or at yourself.”
“Green button. That’s on,” she said, coy. “Well, it is here on Earth, anyway.”
“Gwen, if you’re trying to drive me up the wall, you’re succeeding,” Ianto said.
Gwen, bless her, had worked out that irritating Ianto helped him to keep the sense of loss at a minimum when they were cleaning out the last of Owen and Tosh’s stuff. These were the jobs that they’d put off for months, but had to deal with now if there were going to be new people in the Hub. Ianto was starting to work out her technique and although he knew he’d feel grateful afterwards, he was ready to strangle her right now.
“Don’t worry,” she said, with a broad smile. “I’m teasing you. Anyway, if Owen had it plugged in under his desk, the likelihood of it being dangerous is low.”
“One could dispute that,” Ianto said, softening.
“He’s written directions on it in permanent marker. Looks like blue is on,” she said, with a sigh. “Owen. What were you doing?”
“It is in his handwriting,” Ianto conceded, feeling a twinge of nostalgia at seeing Owen’s distinctive scrawl. “I take no responsibility if it turns out to be a weapon.”
Gwen’s phone rang. She squeaked, Ianto jumped, and they both broke into nervous laughter as she pressed the connect button.
“Gwen. I’m coming in,” said Jack. He paused. “What’s up? You’re a bit breathless.”
“We found something weird under Owen’s desk,” she said.
“Define weird,” Jack said, gruff.
“Looks like a phone, six oval buttons, four square buttons, Owen’s own handwriting covering up the alien script?” Gwen said.
“Oh. That,” Jack said. “It was under his desk? Tosh would have killed him long ago had she known that.”
He paused, a little sadly.
“Blue is on, yeah?” Gwen asked. “Should I press it?”
“Press the button,” said Jack, over the phone. “It’s harmless, just a bit of fun. I forgot that we had it. Owen used to make mischief with it.”
“What does it do?”
“You’ll find out,” Jack said. “See you in a few. I’ll get you some coffee.”
He hung up. Gwen looked at Ianto.
“He said to press it,” Gwen said, pressing the button. “Oh!”
“What?” Ianto asked, spooked by her gasp. “Gwen, are you okay? Gwen?”
“It’s fine. Just tickled,” she said, looking at him and smiling. Ianto blinked.
“I...Gwen, come with me,” he said, urgently. “Come on.”
He helped her to her feet, the device still clutched in her hands.
“What?” she asked. “What?”
He dragged her into Jack’s office, to the full-length mirror that Jack liked to pose in front of.
“Oh wow,” Gwen said. “I look…”
“...hot,” Ianto said, as Gwen examined her skin.
“Shiny hair, perfect skin, teeth that sparkle,” she said. “It’s like every stupid beauty treatment that I had done for my wedding got re-done all at once.”
“Do you think Jack uses it?” Ianto asked, making eye contact with her.
She stifled a giggle. She was still Gwen, no doubt about it, just Gwen on a really good day.
“Oh no. He doesn’t, does he?” she said. “I wonder when it wears off, or if I just have to turn it off?”
“Don’t know,” said Ianto, taking it from her. “Let me have a look.”
“Second thoughts,” said Gwen, examining her backside and sticking her chest out. “I’m not sure I want it to wear off. I swear my tits are an inch higher than they were this morning.”
“The blue button says fix above it,” said Ianto. “Red is undo. Purple is tentacles.”
He looked up at her.
“Tentacles?” she asked.
“There’s one here called fantasy,” said Ianto, with a grin.
“Push it,” said Gwen, her voice low.
“I couldn’t.”
“Oh, go on. I dare you,” said Gwen. “Push it. If you turn into a girl, you can borrow my jeans.”
He pushed the button, his suit suddenly too tight. Ianto yelped involuntarily.
“Ianto!” Gwen said, the game suddenly less fun.
“Oh my god,” he said. “Bloody hell…”
“Ianto!”
Ianto ripped his suit jacket off, his shirt tearing off his back.
“What the..?” he asked, as Gwen grabbed him, helped him to get his shirt off.
“I’m sorry,” she was saying, urgently. “You okay? You okay?”
“I’m okay,” Ianto said. “It was just a surprise.”
Gwen looked at him properly.
“Ianto, you’ve got…You’ve got…”
“Wings,” said Jack, from the doorway. “Coffee, anyone?”
Ianto turned. Jack was holding a cardboard tray from the coffee shop up at the Quay, a huge grin on his face.
“I said it was fun,” he said. “Come on, I got you the expensive stuff.”
“What is it?” Ianto asked.
“It’s a wish machine. Tosh and Susie spent six months trying to work out how to cannibalize it to use it to heal people, but the patent protect on the tech is too stong. It’s only good for fun stuff,” Jack said, setting the coffee tray down and picking up his own cup. “Gwen. Looking good.”
“So how long do the effects last?” Gwen asked, taking her own cup. “I need to hit the wing button. That’s amazing.”
“You get sick of them after a bit,” Jack said, passing a paper cup to Ianto. “Here you go, wingman. You hit the fantasy button, didn’t you?”
“Please tell me that you didn’t just call that a wish machine,” Ianto said, accepting his coffee.
Jack shrugged.
“Well, what else is it? That’s what we used to call them when we were on rec leave. You know, slip into a more comfortable face - or set of mandibles - for a few hours?”
Jack picked up the machine and flicked through a few different hair colours, pointy teeth, horns and then something that looked disturbingly like Dr Zoidberg before coming back to his own familiar face.
“Effect lasts until you reprogram yourself back to what you were. Some people never changed back; can you blame them? If I were ugly…” Jack said, regarding it with a fond glance. “Owen and Susie played with it on and off until Project Goldenrod. She made him go on the pull with a tail on.”
It was strange, Ianto thought, to remember that Owen and Tosh had been at Torchwood for longer than either himself or Gwen; that it had been possible to exist at Torchwood Three earlier than their arrival.
“A wish machine,” Gwen said, incredulous.
Gwen was stroking Ianto’s feathers, a delighted expression on her face. He had brown feathers, sensible brown feathers, he realised, stretching out a wing. It was as automatic and easy as stretching out an arm. Giddy excitement fought his overwhelming fear of changes to his body, trying to win out.
“Until you can tell me exactly how the microwave works, you have no call to lambast my failure to know the intimate workings of the technology that I grew up with,” Jack said. “It’s probably nanogenes. These things usually are.”
“A wish machine,” Ianto echoed.
“Those,” said Jack, gesturing at Ianto’s wings. “Were a bit passe by the time I was using one. First thing anyone wanted was wings. By the time I was into it, it was flippers all the way.”
“Flippers?” Ianto asked, a note of fascinated horror creeping into his tone.
“Ooh, yeah. Flippers and mandibles. And tentacles, but really, when do tentacles ever go out of style?” Jack asked.
“I can’t imagine,” Ianto said. “I…No. I really, really can’t imagine. When will I go back to being Ianto, sans the wings?”
Anything that changed him disturbed Ianto. Had done since before Canary Wharf, still did now. His time at Torchwood had done nothing to make him more comfortable with physical changes, especially those initiated by technology; these things usually led to disaster.
Gwen was still idly stroking his feathers, and Ianto tried to keep himself calm, focussing on the pleasure of physical sensation and the excitement of wings. Don’t focus on how you got them, he told himself. Jack will sort that out.
“Um,” said Jack, looking at the machine.
“What?”
“I might have run the battery down.”
Jack held it up. Backlighting on the buttons that Ianto hadn’t even been aware of until it was absent, was dark.
“It’s future tech! Why does it need a battery?” Ianto asked, horrified.
“Microwave!” Jack said.
“So how long will it take to charge?” Ianto’s inner battle between panic and excitement was raging, with excitement suffering heavy casualties.
“It’s been left on for a long time before this,” Jack said.
“That’s impossible. Owen had it plugged into one of those purple things,” Gwen said.
“So that’s where it went,” Jack said, suddenly far away. He shook his head, coming back to the problem at hand. “Purple won’t work on this. It’s the wrong century; I’ll be amazed if he hasn’t damaged the plug jamming it in there. We need a red adaptor.”
“Oh,” Ianto said. “I was afraid you’d say something that.”
“It’ll probably take a few days. I’ll set it up downstairs in my quarters,” said Jack.
“Assuming we have a red adaptor.”
“I have good and bad news,” Ianto sighed, as excitement waved a white flag and he surrendered to his over-active imagination telling him that Owen probably had broken the plug, and Ianto was going to get stuck. “We have an adaptor.”
“And..?” Jack asked.
“It’s plugged into the coffee machine.”
“I’m happy to stay pretty,” Gwen said, quickly.
“I want to see what you’re like in bed with a bit more leverage,” Jack added, raising an eyebrow.
Ianto flushed. Bloody Jack. The man very seldom ever seemed to think before he opened his mouth. Jack seemed to realise his mistake, going to speak. Ianto cut him off.
“Have I ever told either of you that when I was a child, being a sex toy with wings was not the way I envisaged my adult life panning out?” Ianto asked. “I’m unplugging the coffee machine. Deal with it.”
He stalked out, the sweeping effect somewhat spoiled when his impressive wingspan got stuck in the doorway and Jack had to help him wriggle to get free, running a soothing hand across his nape as he did so.
“I vote we cliff him,” said Gwen, mock-conspiratorial.
Ianto made a rude gesture at her, not bothering to turn around.
“Mmm,” Jack replied, watching Ianto go. “Nah. I’d miss him too much.”
#
The bar was filling up, people in suits from the surrounding offices, girls wearing expensive jeans, out to pick up or wind down. Gwen was already at their regular table, beer in hand. Rhys spotted her from across the room, settled into a chair beside her, slipped a hand onto her thigh.
“So,” said Rhys. “Where’s Ianto and Jack, then?”
“You,” Gwen said, shaking her head. “No hello darling, how was your day…”
They kissed, familiar.
“Gwen,” he said, looking at her. “You look especially gorgeous today, love. You get your hair done?”
“No,” she replied, wriggling on her seat a little. “You think I look good?”
Rhys looked down at his own gut, and then back at her.
“I think I’ll have to keep an eye on my bird,” he said. “Everyone’s looking at you.”
“Jack’s been thinking the same thing about Ianto, I reckon,” Gwen said. “I’ll get you and me some drinks. Jack said they’d meet me here, but that was an hour ago.”
“Wait,” said Rhys. “I see them. Ianto’s not…he’s feeling okay, then?”
People had stopped talking as the pair made their way across the room. Ianto kept his head up, and Gwen felt a surge of pride warm her. A year ago he would have shuffled and shied away from the attention, but now he strode across the crowded bar towards them. Jack had a possessive arm around Ianto as they reached the table.
“Okay,” Jack said. “Let me get your chair. Then wings go up, you sit, wings go down.”
“You’ve done this before,” Ianto said, fond. “You didn’t want to join me in my cumbersome featheriness?”
“Not really. I prefer flying inside a ship. Preferably with lots of lights and clicky things,” Jack replied, pulling out a chair for Ianto. “Hi Rhys. Shut your mouth, you’ll catch flies.”
“He has wings,” Rhys said, more than just a little incredulous.
“Tech accident,” Jack shrugged, pulling a chair up next to Ianto’s. “What’s everyone drinking?”
“Beer,” said Rhys, still looking like he’d been hit in the face with a spade.
“Designated driver,” Gwen said. “Something else. Coke?”
“Anything with a lot of alcohol in it,” Ianto said.
Jack kissed Ianto’s forehead, getting up from the table.
“You came out with wings,” Rhys said, astonished.
“I see you two have made up,” Gwen said.
“Yep,” Ianto said, picking up a bar mat, tapping it on its side.
“They had a screaming fight earlier,” Gwen said. “Well, an Ianto version of a screaming fight, which seems to involve lots of hissed comments and meaningful silences.”
Ianto rolled his eyes.
“Must you gossip more than my bloody mother does?” he asked.
“It’s still less than everyone else in the pub is,” said Rhys, as someone else pointed at Ianto. “You could have warned me that he’d have wings, Gwen.”
“We figured most people would just think I was some sort of weirdo,” Ianto shrugged.
“Well, you got that one down,” Rhys said, with a nod. “So they’re real?”
“They seem to be.”
“Can you fly?” Rhys asked.
“Nope.”
Gwen put a hand over Ianto’s. They’d tried that afternoon, when Jack had stormed out in a sulk after Ianto had said something horrible (that, much to her chagrin, he refused to reveal to Gwen) which had been hurtful enough that both of them had been moody all afternoon. So she’d played at flying with Ianto, but aside from seriously disturbing Myfanwy and making papers fly all over the Hub from the breeze from Ianto’s flapping, he’d only managed seconds of lift.
“Drinks, kids.”
Jack placed everyone’s drink down, giving Ianto’s feathers an affectionate ruffle.
“Marry you,” said Ianto. “You bring me drinks.”
“I still think just shag,” Gwen said.
“We’re not still going with this, are we?” Rhys asked, despairingly. “You’ve not been possessed by the ghosts of teenaged idiots, have you?”
“Just wait, any moment we’ll be downloading the latest ringtone by an animated character,” said Ianto, raising an eyebrow. He slipped a hand onto Jack’s knee.
“So how’s the world of haulage?” Jack asked.
“There’s no bloody wings in it,” Rhys replied, still staring. “Can I touch them?”
“Yeah. Just don’t pull out any feathers,” Ianto said. He shivered, rustling a little as Rhys reached out. “Sorry. Tickles.”
“So you have nerves in there and everything?”
“Everything,” Ianto said, as Jack smoothed over his feathers, lovingly.
“They’re totally his. It’s a physical transformation,” said Jack, as Ianto sipped his drink.
“They grew from his body. They’ll re-absorb once we get the tech fixed.”
Gwen spotted the sad little look that Ianto gave the feathers. He was doing what he did best; desiring something that freaked him out and was not particularly viable, but that he’d already got a little taste of. She’d seen that sad look before, and it had been when Jack had vanished with the Doctor.
“I’m growing more and more fond of them.”
“I’m amazed Jack let you out, looking like that,” Rhys replied.
“It’s a neat trick. You show the public something that couldn’t possibly exist, and they’ll accept it as some sort of trickery or fooling simply because it couldn’t exist,” Jack said.
“Besides, you don’t let Ianto do anything.”
“Sitting right here, thanks,” Ianto replied. “Not really so far under Jack’s thumb that he organises my social calendar.”
“I seem to recall a drunken marriage proposal between you two action heroes last time we were out,” Rhys said, raising an eyebrow.
“I seem to recall someone else broke a chair,” Ianto replied, raising an eyebrow back.
Jack turned to Gwen.
“I have my bets on Ianto winning this one,” he said.
“I’ve got spousal loyalty pulling me onto Rhys’s side,” Gwen replied.
“I’m sure his pulling power is stronger than that,” Jack said, with a wink.
“You’d better believe it,” Rhys said, dragging Gwen a little closer, giving Ianto a smug grin.
“Proposals don’t count if you’re drunk,” Ianto said.
“He’ll make an honest man of you someday, Jack,” Gwen said, consolingly.
“A girl can live in hope,” Jack said, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t know why I put up with any of you,” Ianto said. He leaned across to Jack, kissing him quickly. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
Ianto got up, people moving out of his way as he strode across to the bar towards the toilets. Jack sighed contentedly, watching him go.
“So you sorted things out?” Gwen asked. “You’re doing pretty bloody well if you’ve got Ianto kissing you in public.”
Rhys laughed affectionately.
“She’d not going to stop asking until she gets too much information for her own good,” he said.
“I know this woman.”
“Ianto hates anything that changes his body,” Jack shrugged. “Once we got past that bit, he’s loving it. Don’t let his sarcastic exterior fool you. He even modified his own shirts so that he has wing holes.”
He looked across the pub at Ianto, who was graciously letting people examine the wings, only flirting slightly.
“Oh my gosh! They’re so well done,” a girl was saying. “You should totally sell these. You’re such an artist.”
Ianto’s response was too soft and too Welsh to carry across the room, but Jack smiled indulgently anyway.
“Excuse me,” Jack said, standing. “I’ll get the next round.”
Jack slipped over to Ianto, not going near to the bar at all.
“You’re happy,” said Rhys, as they watched the pair. “You’re all three happy.”
“Hmm?” Gwen asked.
“Things have been pretty grim lately, love.”
Gwen looked at him.
“When a game of marry, shag or cliff goes on for more than a week, it’s time to take stock of things,” Rhys said. “This is the first time I’ve seen all three of you happy since the bombs.”
“Oh,” Gwen said, quietly. “I suppose we are.”
“It’s a bit of a shakeup from routine that did it,” Rhys said. “Just what you needed.”
“Just what we needed,” Gwen echoed. “It’ll be weird when Mickey comes on board full time.”
“You need to get another girl. A hot one. Blonde.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when we’re recruiting,” Gwen said. “Excuse me, Miss, but you’re a hot blonde. My husband thinks you’d be perfect at fighting aliens. You can blind them with your fake tan.”
“You’re the only girl for me,” Rhys said.
“You’d better believe it,” Gwen replied. “I like being the girl on the team. I have the option of spraining my ankle when things get too hard.”
“You’d not sprain your ankle if you didn’t spend the money we set aside for my PlayStation on inappropriate shoes,” Rhys said, as Jack aided and abetted Ianto in showing off in front of a gathering crowd of adoring blonde girls.
“They’re perfectly appropriate,” Gwen said, as he held out a hand to her, pulling her close.
“You like it when I keep them on...”
Rhys shook his head, slipping a hand under her top. He stopped. “Gwen?”
“Mmm?”
“This new look….”
“Mmm?”
“You’re not going to stay like this forever?” he asked
“I don’t think so,” she replied.
“I love you for your mind,” Rhys said, sagely.
Gwen laughed into his shoulder, then.
“You did say a shakeup from the routine, you idiot,” she said. “Come on, let’s go. Something tells me Jack’s not coming back with that drink.”
#
There were feathers everywhere when Jack emerged from his quarters in the Hub next morning. Ianto was looking a little the worse for wear, halfway between sore and sated, yawning as he set the kettle on to boil.
“It has scale in it,” he said, reproachfully. “I’m not staying over so that you can experiment with leverage just to get scaly coffee in the morning.”
“Good morning,” Jack replied, moving so that he was behind Ianto, slipping his arms in under the feathers and around Ianto’s waist. “In a good mood?”
Jack realised that Ianto hadn’t bothered to dress either, reveling in the sensation of bare skin against his own body. If Gwen came in early, he mused, she’d get an eyeful. Perhaps she could be persuaded to have naked day at work; the Hub was warm enough.
“I’ll be in a better mood once I have my coffee,” Ianto said, without ire. “Should have used the wish machine to give you scales.”
“There’s always something good that you get with these machines. Scales would be useful; I couldn’t get stabbed easily, for a start.”
“Mmm. Would you drop your tail when frightened, like a lizard?”
“I don’t have a…” Jack suddenly looked mock-horrified, glancing downwards as if to reassure himself that he hadn’t been emasculated. “Ianto!”
“I’d be terribly upset if you dropped your tail,” Ianto said, pouring hot water into the press.
“So you should be. Come and sit on my lap and reassure me that it’s still in working order,” Jack replied, into Ianto’s neck. “Mind you, those machines are a little unpredictable with twentieth century biology. I could have had a scaly Ianto rather than a feathered one quite easily.”
“So how come Gwen didn’t get scales or feathers?” Ianto asked. He pulled away from Jack, flexing his wings. “She got the equivalent of autofix and I lost the ability to fit through doorways.”
“You gained the ability to fly,” Jack pointed out.
“Nope. Tried it.”
“You’re obviously not trying hard enough,” Jack replied. “I remember this one time…”
“Jack, no,” Ianto said, defeated. “I’m itchy, my shoulders and back hurt and I’m moulting like I have mange. I can’t fly.”
“Ianto,” Jack said, reproachful.
“I know,” Ianto said, flopping onto the lounge and wincing as he squashed his wings with his body weight. “This is an extraordinary opportunity.”
Jack sighed. Ianto met his eyes before continuing.
“I’m just sort of over it,” Ianto said. “I seem to end up being the butt of every joke the bloody Rift plays on us, ever.”
He raked his fingers through the downy feathers on his left wing, neatly collecting the moult feathers in a little pile on his bare knee.
“Wish I could fly, though,” he said, softly.
“Where have you tried?” Jack asked, leaning against the railing, watching him.
“Just in here.”
“Did you jump?”
“Sort of,” Ianto replied, switching wings to finger-comb through the right one, carefully.
“Hovering is the hardest thing to do,” Jack replied. “You need to glide, get up on a hillside and run. Let the air do the work. You ever flown in a glider?”
“No.” Ianto didn’t look up.
“I lost power to my engines once, out over the Channel. Managed to float down on the breeze and land softly as a feather,” said Jack. “Of course, the plane then sank and I drowned, but the theory was sound. Washed up on a beach three days later. ”
“You think I should just throw myself off a cliff?”
“Nah. This country is full of hills. Run down one and see if you can get some lift,” Jack said, happily. “I thought I already told you I’d cliff Rhys, not you.”
“This would be in the game where you said you’d shag Gwen?” Ianto asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, it was worth it and you know it was,” Jack said, with a little quirk of his eyebrows. He slowly approached, trying not to annoy Ianto more than he already was.
“I don’t think Rhys appreciated it,” Ianto said, combining the piles of feathers, carefully not meeting Jack’s eyes.
“I seem to recall you laughing at the time. I seem to recall you laughing even harder when Rhys tried to flounce away and broke that chair,” Jack said, sitting next to Ianto, sliding a hand onto Ianto’s thigh. “Gwen should really remember that her party games are best saved for when we’re drunk.”
“Jack,” Ianto said, as Jack levered fingers under Ianto’s side to pull him closer. “You’re changing the subject.”
“No,” Jack said, as Ianto allowed himself to be manhandled into an awkward hug, the neat pile of feathers dispersing around them. “I’m not. I’m thinking. It’s Myfanwy’s exercise day next week, isn’t it?”
“Mmm,” Ianto said. “What are you thinking?”
“Let’s go out to the country today and try running down hills. Myfanwy won’t care if we go a few days early,” Jack said, pressing a kiss just under Ianto’s ear. “You can glide, she can fly, Gwen can keep an eye on the Hub.”
“You plan to come?” Ianto asked unsteadily, distracted by Jack’s wandering hands.
“Even if you’re not enjoying this, I am.”
Jack kissed Ianto, a proper deep kiss. He was enjoying this more than he’d expected to. It wasn’t just the sex and the comforting flurry of feathers. It was seeing Ianto’s excitement and awe at his own capabilities, the things he hadn’t seen himself as capable of doing.
“Shag, marry or cliff?” Jack asked, seriously.
“Shag. Then cliff,” Ianto replied, kissing back.
“Ah, one shag to prove to you that you shouldn’t cliff me. I’m up to this challenge,” Jack said, as Ianto’s questing fingers found the prize he’d been after.
“That,” Ianto replied, shifting to straddle Jack. “Had better be the worst pun that you perpetrate all day, or you’re getting cliffed before the shag.”
Jack’s self-confidence turned out not to be misplaced, and he managed not to get himself cliffed at all. Not even when he woke Gwen up from a hung over slumber to tell her that she was on Hub watch for the next few hours, that he had extremely important business to take care of with Ianto.
“I’m still gorgeous,” Gwen said, sleepily. “I don’t know whether to be delighted or horrified.”
“You’re beautiful no matter what you look like,” Jack said, softly.
“You great spinner of pick-up lines,” she said.
“Believe it, Gwen.”
“Have fun with Ianto,” she replied. “I’ll be at the Hub in an hour.”
When they finally got on the road, Myfanwy was a bad passenger. Jack didn’t always go along to take her for an extended fly, as she seemed to regard Ianto as her human and return to him most often out of the team. She stuck her beak between them as they drove up a winding country lane.
“Almost there,” Ianto said, patting the hard bony ridge between her eyes. “She sleeps on the way back. Gets tired out by the end.”
She half-heartedly snapped at his hand, missing and hitting clear air instead. Jack shook his head.
“I should come on these trips more often,” he said.
“Yes,” Ianto replied. “You should. They’re fun, Jack. Remember fun?”
“I remember fun,” Jack said, with a swift glance at Ianto.
Myfanwy spoiled the moment by hacking and throwing up on the dropsheet that Ianto had spread over the back seat. Jack shook his head. He’d laughed at the dropsheet, at Ianto’s obsessive cleanliness.
“And now we see why, like a good boy scout, Ianto is always prepared,” Ianto said, looking over his shoulder. “Nearly there. Hang onto your guts for a few more minutes, okay?”
Myfanwy launched herself straight out of the back of the SUV once Ianto opened it at a lookout, a lake spreading across the land in front of them.
“I thought if we went near the lake, we’d be okay if I went into a nosedive,” Ianto said, shaking out the dropsheet. “We’ll leave this out to dry; it’ll get rid of the worst of the smell.”
“Put your headset on, okay?” Jack said. “I want you in contact once you get into the air.”
“I won’t do anything stupid,” Ianto replied.
“Ianto,” Jack said, watching him. How could he tell Ianto that he’d be worried sick if Ianto vanished into the sky, flying away from Torchwood and Jack? Myfanwy flapped past them like a bat out of hell, squealing into the ultrasonic ranges. Jack winced, cursing his sharp hearing; Ianto didn’t seem bothered at all.
There was a little incline at the top of the lookout, just perfect for their purposes.
“Up here,” Jack said.
He felt a swell of affection when he realised that Ianto was unselfconsciously using his wings to balance as they clambered up the steep slope.
“It won’t take you long to grasp the essential concepts. Start by gliding at ground level; just
lift your feet once you have some speed,” Jack said. “And then start flapping. It’ll feel weird at first, because they’re not muscles you use.”
Ianto wasn’t even breathless as they got to the top. Jack put both hands on his waist, noting with amusement that Ianto’s jumper seemed to have a complex arrangement of press studs and slits in the back to allow him movement and warmth. He hadn’t even seen Ianto have the time to do it.
“Okay,” Jack said, close to Ianto’s ear. “Run.”
“I feel like a total idiot, Jack,” Ianto said.
“Run, and use that rock to give yourself a lift,” Jack instructed. “You’re not a jump jet. You can’t take off from a standing start.”
Ianto ran, used the rock, soared for about twenty feet, gaining height as the hill dropped away, and then lost his nerve, dropping a little.
“Ianto, flap!” Jack called, hoping Ianto was listening.
“I…” Ianto was breathless into the earpiece.
“Flap!” Jack made flapping motions.
Ianto flapped, and got lift. His first flight, all things considered, was a success, despite being jerky. Jack’s heart nearly stopped a few times when Ianto’s concentration dipped and his altitude dropped sharply, but by five minutes of flight Ianto was starting to use the wind to help him maintain altitude without effort. He whooped into the earpiece, soaring like a bird, Myfanwy circling around him in delight. When Ianto finally came in to land, Jack got an armful of excited feathery Welshman.
“Jack!” Ianto said, excitement palpable. “It’s so beautiful.”
You’re beautiful, Jack thought. He held Ianto still, delighted.
“Just need to catch my breath,” Ianto added. “It’s a little exhausting.
“There’s a thermos of coffee in the car,” said Jack. They sat in the back of the SUV, watching Myfanwy, as Ianto expanded on his plans for his next flight.
“I need to work on turning circles. And lift. I have to be able to use thermals,” he said, as Myfanwy hovered overhead. “I wonder if I’d be able to use the updrafts between the buildings in Cardiff?”
He passed the thermos back to Jack, clambering back up to the incline to take off. Jack watched him fly as high as Myfanwy. Yes, he definitely needed to come along on these trips a lot more.
“Jack?” Ianto asked, over the whistling wind in his earpiece.
“You okay?”
“There’s a tour bus coming up the hill,” Ianto said. “I’ll try to get up high.”
“You take care,” said Jack. “Remember that there’s always retcon. They might not even stop here.”
He winced as he heard the crunch of tyres and the scuff of air brakes as the tour bus pulled up. Voices carried on the wind as Jack sipped his coffee.
“Oh my god! It’s an angel!”
Jack turned in dismay to see the group of tourists stopped at the lookout.
“Ianto,” he said into his Bluetooth. “Definitely best not to come in to land, yeah?”
“Okay,” Ianto replied, a little breathless. “Who are they?”
“American tourists,” Jack said, as Myfanwy dove toward the lake, plummeting in only to explode through the surface, what looked like a large salmon in her beak. “Oh, our girl knows how to turn it on for the cameras.”
“Our girl knows how to turn it on for mental Americans,” Ianto said, totally out of sight.
“Are you insulting the place that most people in this time period seem to think I’m from?” Jack asked, suspicious.
“You’re not, but.”
“No,” he said, with mild relief. “I’m not.”
Jack regarded the woman who was rather over-excitedly trying to take photos of Myfanwy. He supposed that he should get up, walk over the railing and make sure that no-one was doing anything stupid.
“Did you see it?” asked another woman. “There was an angel!”
“Are you sure it wasn’t a large bird?” Jack asked.
“I got a photo!”
Jack looked at the display on the back of her camera and sighed. She had indeed got a photograph; it was really a very good photograph. Ianto was particularly recognisable in it.
“Oh,” he said. “It’s gotta be a fake.”
He slipped his fingers into his wriststrap, quietly pressing a button.
“Oh dammit! My camera’s run out of batteries!” the woman said, to a friend. “The screen’s gone black.”
“So has mine!” said a man.
“And mine!”
Jack felt a twinge of guilt. Only a twinge. Ianto was more important than holiday snaps.
“Get rid of them. I’m getting tired,” Ianto said, into his ear.
“I’ll try,” Jack said.
He didn’t have to.
“Okay, people, that’s time! I don’t think this angel of yours really exists,” the tour guide called. “We have an iron age site to get to!”
The tourists piled onto their bus, and as it started up, heading down the hill, Ianto floated down to Jack. He was cold to the touch, shivering a little.
“Coffee.”
“I drank it all,” Jack said, apologetic.
“Heater, then. Call Myfanwy and we’ll go,” Ianto said, slipping both arms around Jack’s waist, under his coat. “Too cold. Stupid tourists.”
“It’s been a few hours, anyway,” Jack said.
“Hours?” Ianto asked, surprised.
Jack chuckled, pressing his cheek to Ianto’s cold cheek.
“You got a bit carried away there, Angel.”
“I can’t believe they thought I was an angel,” Ianto said. “Granted, this is God’s own country, but what on earth would an angel be doing here? Wouldn’t they be better off helping the poor, rather than scaring sheep?”
“Americans. Mental,” Jack agreed. “Where’s the dog whistle?”
Myfanwy flew back when they whistled her, settling quietly in the back of the SUV, hacking up a fish tail to slobber on for the drive back to Cardiff. Ianto shut her in as Jack started up the engine, turning up the heating to warm Ianto.
“Done,” Ianto said, getting into the passenger seat.
“Success,” Jack added, as Ianto slammed the door.
Ianto yelped.
“You good?” Jack asked, as Ianto unlatched the door.
“Yep,” Ianto said, wheezing a little. “Just shut the car door on myself.”
He ruffled his feathers, dragging his wing in and holding it carefully out of the way as he slammed the door again.
Ianto slept in the SUV on the way back, resting on the side window, using his feathers to make a warm spot to snuggle into. The rewarding burn of exhaustion wasn’t enough, however, to keep him from rousing when Jack stopped to fill the SUV. Myfanwy woke too, eyeballing children in another car through the tinted windows. Ianto stretched, ruffling his feathers.
“Tired?” Jack asked.
“A bit sore,” Ianto said. “I’m going over to get a burger. Want anything?”
“Chips,” Jack said. “We’ll take a shower when you get back. I’ve been thinking about it, and I reckon the communal showers in the Hub are big enough for you to stretch out properly.”
“Mmm. Don’t think I didn’t notice the we in there,” Ianto teased.
“Don’t think I’ve heard you complaining,” Jack replied, as Ianto dug awkwardly for his wallet from his back pocket, trying to manoeuvre around his wings.
There was a queue. Ianto was still standing in it after Jack had paid for the fuel and driven the SUV around to park. Jack realised with a sinking feeling that the tour bus had pulled up before they’d arrived, and the place was full of tourists stretching their legs and getting a feed. Ianto was being mobbed in the queue.
“It’s the angel!”
It’s the Americans! Jack thought. Hurrah!
He slipped through the crowd, catching a sly grin from Ianto.
“You got me my chips yet?” Jack asked.
“I would think that the absence of chips would indicate that I have not,” Ianto replied. He made eye contact with the woman behind him. “He’s not jumping the queue. I buy him food.”
“Are you, you know, saving him?” asked a woman.
“Yes, ma’am, I think I can say that I am,” Ianto said, completely seriously. “Though I repeat that I’m not an angel. What would an angel be doing buying a burger and chips? I don’t think angels eat.”
They certainly don’t shag like you do, Jack thought.
“So what are the wings about, then?”
“You know those contests,” said Ianto, slowly. “The ones where there’s people who jump off the end of a pier and the one who glides the furthest wins?”
“Oh, yeah!” said a tall woman. She poked her husband. “Honey, there’s one of those at the Marina this summer.”
“Right. Well, I’m in training for one of those,” Ianto said, keeping an entirely straight face. Jack was astonished by his self-control. “So I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t post any of your photos online. I’d like to keep my secret weapon a secret.”
“Oh,” said the woman’s husband, a broad-gesturing, gregarious man. “But why do it in the middle of the countryside?”
“It’s winter,” Ianto said, scandalised. “I’m not going for a dip in the ocean!”
“Next please!” said the cashier.
Jack waited until they were back in the car before collapsing into fits of laughter.
“You’re not going for a dip in the ocean?” Jack asked, laughing through a mouthful of chips. He threw a few into the back seat, where they were snatched by Myfanwy’s greedy beak.
“What else was I supposed to say?” Ianto asked. “I thought it was clever.”
“I don’t think that I can articulate how much I like you right now,” Jack replied.
“I don’t think that I can articulate how much I need a shower,” Ianto said, wiping greasy fingers on the paper bag that had held his burger, before settling against the window again, drawing his feathers around himself. “Drive, Jeeves.”
Jack saluted for Ianto, putting the car into gear.
“Yes sir.”
#
Life with wings, Ianto mused, was getting easier. After a period of initial awkwardness getting through doorways and the hole in the floor of Jack’s office, he’d worked out the trick to folding himself as small as possible. And Jack’s idea of showering in the communal showers had been inspired; squeezing into a stall at home had left him feeling under-clean, his body sheltered by feathers. Ianto liked being able to stretch out in the steam. Even Gwen had got in on the act, buying him shampoo made for show birds.
Ianto was wondering if insisting on two accompanied showers a day would be greedy. This was his second today, mostly because Jack had shot a large wobbly creature that turned out to have uneven pressure inside its gelatinous body.
“Stretch,” Jack instructed, running his fingers through the feathers. “You do know that in the wild, birds don’t get totally wet?”
“You do know that normally humans don’t have feathers?” Ianto asked, as feathers clogged the drain, making the water pool at their feet. He stretched his wing out as far as he could go.
“Oh. That’s good.”
“Glad to oblige,” Jack replied, kissing Ianto’s neck.
“You’d think with the amount I’m moulting, I’d be bald by now,” Ianto said idly, leaning into the brush of Jack’s fingers against his skin. “Jack. Do that again.”
“Oh, autonomic reactions. How do I love thee,” said Jack, as Ianto’s feathers flicked. “Now I know how to get you under my power whenever I want you there.”
Ianto chuckled, deeply. The water was starting to run cold, and Jack reached around him to turn off the taps.
“Finish off that paperwork. I’ll see you on the roof,” Jack said, into Ianto’s ear. The closeness of his breath made Ianto shiver, and then Jack was gone, the warmth of his body gone with him. Ianto dressed slowly, drying his feathers with the hairdryer that Jack thought he’d hidden successfully but Ianto had found on his second day in the job.
“Ianto,” Gwen said, as he walked up into the Hub. “I’m going over to the docks to check out a blip. You following Himself up to brood on the roof?”
“I have the right silhouette to brood successfully,” Ianto said.
Jack had left the folder of signed documents on Ianto’s chair. Ianto carefully checked that everything was in order, removing the sign here flags and counting page numbers.
“I’m a bit disturbed at how quickly I’ve got used to you with wings,” Gwen replied.
“I’m a bit disturbed at how quickly I’ve got used to me with wings,” Ianto said. “You take care at the docks. Go home after, okay?”
He slipped everything into a secure courier envelope. They were due for a drop tomorrow morning; he put it in the out pile to go to Torchwood Two as confirmation of a transfer member and a new member. Mickey and the unknown Torchwood Two person. Ianto wasn’t sure which one to be more nervous about.
“Yes, mum,” Gwen said, with a laugh.
“I’m not kidding,” Ianto said, mock-frowning. “You’ve been brilliant this last week. I don’t want to abuse your good nature.”
“Goodnight, then. It’s probably just a weevil,” Gwen said, as Ianto climbed onto the invisible lift.
Ianto strode across the Plass, heading to join Jack on the roof. The temptation to run and jump into the air, fly up and surprise Jack was great, but Ianto held onto his self-control, took the elevator instead. Jack was perched on the edge, coat billowing in the wind. He held out a hand at Ianto’s approach, not turning around. Ianto took Jack’s hand, twining their fingers.
They stood on the roof hand in hand, silent. Ianto spread his wings wide, letting the breeze catch the feathers. It was pleasurable, this rush of wind against his skin, this heady sensation that if he just let go of the Earth for a second, he could wheel and dip above central Cardiff.
“Paperwork done?” Jack asked, finally.
“Yeah. It was just sealing up the stuff you signed this afternoon; I did it all the other stuff this morning. Not for want of trying to find a distraction,” Ianto replied. “I found another red power adaptor in the Archives. We can have coffee again.”
“And Gwen..?”
“Gone out on what’s probably a weevil call. She’s going to do reconnaissance down by the docks, call in if there’s any hassles,” Ianto said. “You’re freezing, Jack.”
“You’re warm,” Jack replied, as Ianto drew him in under a wing. “Feel good?”
“Feel great. You should see the work I’ve done constructing Mickey’s identity. It’s a work of art,” Ianto said, as Jack drew closer.
Ianto wrapped them both up in his wings, together in a blanket of feathers, and Jack laughed softly into Ianto’s cheek.
“This is why I like wings,” Jack said, kissing Ianto. “You smell good.”
“I smell like a henhouse.”
“Stop questioning my authority,” Jack replied. “You smell good.”
“Me? Question your authority?”
Jack kissed Ianto hard, effectively shutting him up.
“So. Marry, shag or cliff?” Ianto asked, when Jack finally let him speak.
“I could go all three with you right now,” Jack said, his voice breathy in the warm cocoon of Ianto’s body. “Even if I cliffed you, I know you’d soar up into the sky.”
“I like the flying,” Ianto conceded. “And I like the sex. I like this.”
“I like this. Keep them,” Jack said. “We can always charge up the machine and just lie to Gwen. In case you ever want to get rid of them, or anything…”
“I can’t keep them. You’ll have to help me groom.”
“I enjoy doing that,” Jack said, cupping Ianto’s jaw in one broad hand.
“I’ll stick out like a sore thumb,” Ianto said.
“You like attention.”
“You’re just making excuses,” Ianto said, exasperated.
“Marry?”
“Marry you,” Ianto agreed. “But if it turns out that you only want me for my wings, I’ll be very put out.”
Ianto kissed Jack, pressing close. Jack’s trousers were moving, and Ianto frowned.
“Is that your phone in your pocket vibrating?” Ianto asked. “Or did you use the fantasy button on the wish machine without telling me?”
“Don’t give me ideas,” Jack said, fishing out his phone. “Gwen?”
Ianto felt his stomach shift with worry. Gwen wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t urgent.
“Gwen? Calm down.”
“What is it?” Ianto asked.
Jack put a finger on Ianto’s lips.
“Gwen, where are you? Okay. And the alien?”
Ianto felt his heart hammering. Jack was unsuccessfully keeping the worry from his voice as he talked.
“We’re coming. We’re coming, Gwen. Be right there. Okay?”
Jack looked up at Ianto, fishing in his pocket for his Bluetooth headset.
“It’s Gwen,” Jack said, suddenly pale. “She needs backup.”
“Where is she?”
“Down near the docks,” Jack said. “Ianto.”
Ianto looked at Jack, drawing his wings back, heart racing at what Jack might suggest. Jack spoke quickly as he put on his headpiece, flicking it on.
“You can get there quickly. You need to go. She’s fighting something in the air…if it gets her…” Jack trailed off, listening to the voice on the phone. “Gwen! Stay with me!”
Ianto stood on the ledge, looking down at the street below. The updraft of the city winds ruffled his feathers. Gwen was in trouble, and Ianto knew what he had to do. He hopped down, returned to Jack. Jack looked at him hopefully.
“Well. Here goes,” Ianto said. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” Jack said, their hands touching briefly. “The updrafts between the buildings will be pretty strong. Stay safe. Gwen, Ianto’s coming.”
Ianto ran for the edge, a vertiginous moment of oh god striking at his gut before he was suddenly off, riding the breezes of the city. Navigating was harder than he’d thought it would be; he had the sudden ludicrous thought that it was like being on Google Maps, a real version, stuck at not-quite-street-level and moving at sixty miles an hour. A gust buffeted him, and he gritted his teeth, trying not to inhale too much smog or too many bugs. He’d need a helmet, or a face mask.
Wait, what was he thinking? This wasn’t going to be permanent. Besides which, flying around Cardiff in a mask was just a little too…weird.
There was a piercing cry, and something flew at him, fast. Ianto fumbled, his turning circle huge; he berated himself for not flying enough, not getting the practice in. He struck out blindly, connecting with feathers that weren’t his.
“Get off!” he yelled. “Get off and stop bothering my friends!”
“Ianto!” Gwen called. “Up here!”
The creature flew at him again, and he darted aside.
“This is a lot harder than it looks!” Ianto called.
“I managed to get it with a tranquiliser; it’ll go down in a sec!” Gwen called.
“Good!”
The creature flew away from them, lighting on the roof. Ianto pushed himself to fly to hovering height; he noticed with relief that although it possessed the disturbing combination of large talons, a spiked crest and a wingspan bigger than his own, it was also falling asleep as it flew.
“Ianto!” Gwen called. “Here!”
“I can’t see you,” Ianto called, unable to turn easily mid-air. “Hang on.”
He could see the SUV approaching below, and he dropped down to meet Jack, stumbling a little as he landed. Ianto was breathless, made pale by the wind in his face. He turned, looking for Gwen, trying to spot her. His heart nearly gave out when he finally did.
Gwen was hanging onto a ledge on the abandoned building, holding on for grim death. Ianto considered the facts; he was a magnet for technology accidents and incursions into his brain, and Gwen was the one who got kidnapped and into physically dangerous situations. Jack, infuriatingly, bounced back from everything.
“Gwen!” Ianto said, his voice cracking onto a high note. “It’s out. It’s on the roof.”
“Ianto!” she yelled back. “I don’t think I can hold on much longer!”
“Get her! I’ll take care of things on the roof!” Jack said, and Ianto looked around.
“Jack, I don’t think I can take off from a standing start,” he said, stretching out.
“Try!” Jack snapped. “Ianto, if Gwen gets hurt…”
Ianto jumped, flapping furiously until he was sure his muscles would give in. But he had lift, he was getting lift, and he panted like a steam train trying to get up to Gwen.
“Ianto,” she said, when he got near. “Are you even strong enough to carry us both?”
“I don’t know,” he said, gasping for air. “I think once we’re airborne together I can probably glide for the ground. I don’t think these wings were really meant for two.”
“You’d better not risk it,” she replied, eyes bright.
“Are you insane? I’m not leaving you to die,” Ianto said, hovering closer. “Come on. You’ll have to hold onto me. I think holding onto you and remembering everything else will be too much brain power for me right now.”
He slipped his arms around her waist, bracing himself for the pull when her weight was added to his. Even still, it was surprising, and they dipped dizzyingly towards the ground before he found an updraft and rode it, letting it shove them towards the sky. Gwen yelped, and then laughed with delight.
Jack whooped from down below, and Ianto slipped out of the airstream, trying to light gracefully upon the rooftop, tumbling a little as they landed. Gwen and Ianto rolled in each other’s arms; it was painful and vital all at once.
“Oh my god,” Gwen said, half-laughing, half-gasping.
“Oh my god,” Ianto said, flat on his back, the cool concrete bliss on the burning pain of his muscles. “I think I’ve broken my wing.”
Gwen rolled off him, gingerly kneeling beside him. He felt her hands part his feathers, heard her indrawn breath.
“I think you might have too,” she said. “Oh my god, Ianto. That was brilliant.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” he asked, with a little laugh through the pain.
“Ianto! Gwen!”
Jack’s voice drew nearer and Gwen got up, running. Ianto put his head up to see Gwen hug Jack tightly. Jack kissed her, grateful.
“I think he’s hurt,” Gwen said.
“Ianto?”
Jack was suddenly there by his head, and Ianto smiled up at him, upside down.
“Hi,” Jack said, stroking Ianto’s cheek. “How you feeling?”
“Heroic,” Ianto said. “Help me sit up.”
His left wing hung oddly at the tip, and he drew it in close, hugging it to himself. Gwen crouched next to him again.
“What do we do? We can’t go to a doctor,” she said. “Has the machine recharged yet? Can we just cancel it?”
“I, ah,” Ianto said, as Jack reached around his waist to support him. “We could go to a vet? We could take the spiky bird-thing too?”
Jack offered him a knowing grin as Ianto petted his own feathers.
“I’ll give Martha a call. We can keep you comfortable until tomorrow,” he said. “Okay. Let’s get this thing into the SUV.”
“I thought it was going to be another bloody weevil,” Gwen said, with a nervous laugh. “Wasn’t expecting that.”
“It’s a Roc,” Jack said, pointedly. “It’s heavy, too.”
Ianto cradled his wing as Jack and Gwen hefted the Roc between them.
“Ooh, that’ll teach me for wearing heels,” Gwen said, taking little steps as they made their way to the fire escape.
“And here I was thinking I should break out my sparkly pumps,” Jack said, through his teeth.
“What the hell does this thing eat, bricks?”
“I wonder if Myfanwy’ll like it?” Ianto asked, trailing behind them, his wing starting to throb. If he’d ever doubted that this was real, that these things were part of him, here was the proof that he owned them.
“I wonder which one of them will eat each other first?” Jack asked.
“If we weren’t a covert organisation, think of the money we could make from selling the CCTV footage,” Ianto said.
“Roc vs pterodactyl vs birdman. Forget getting other people to pay for it, I’ll pay for it,” Jack replied.
“I’ll bring the popcorn,” Gwen said. “Oh, seriously, how many more stairs to go?”
They finally got down to the ground, hefting the Roc into the SUV. Gwen leaned against the side
door, catching her breath.
“We should have just tossed it off the side,” Jack said.
“Should have got Ianto to take it down,” Gwen said, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “Ianto? Love?”
“I think I probably would have dropped like a stone,” Ianto said.
“You’re white as a sheet,” said Gwen. “You’re hurting?”
“Yeah,” Ianto said, sore as the buzz of the adrenaline left his system. “I’m not really built for this.”
“Are you insane?” Gwen said. “You were brilliant! You out-swooped Jack!”
“I can never be out-swooped,” said Jack, wrapping his arms around Ianto. “But you’re a pretty good second.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Ianto said, rolling his eyes. “Especially if it’s not actually flattery, Jack.”
“He likes me really,” said Jack, sotto voce. “Come on. Hometime.”
Several hours later Ianto was sleeping on his stomach, his head on Jack’s chest and uninjured right wing stretched out over the rest of Jack. They’d bandaged his left wing best they could according to Martha’s directions, with a promise that she’d be up tomorrow to check it over properly. Both men started as the wish machine trilled a little beep to let them know that it had finally recharged. Jack grunted, shuffled a little, and then got up.
“What’s up?” Ianto asked, rousing.
“It’s finished charging,” Jack said, rubbing at his eyes.
“Oh,” Ianto said, a note of disappointment in his voice, drowsy with painkillers. “Well, use it tomorrow. I want to sleep now.”
“I think we should get things over and done with,” Jack said, picking up the wish machine.
“I’ve been a bit jealous of you and your wings of late.”
He turned the machine on, coming back toward Ianto.
“Jack, come back to bed,” Ianto said, a little uncomfortable.
“Just a sec…” Jack said, as he tripped over his own trousers, uncharacteristically clumsy. “Dammit!”
“What?” Ianto asked.
Jack looked up at him, his smile broad.
“Well,” he said, innocently. “It would seem that I’ve broken it when I fell. It’ll take a few weeks at least to get it fixed.”
“Oh dear,” Ianto said, returning the grin. “That’s terrible. Come back to bed.”
Jack put the broken wish machine on the bedside table, settling back under his feathery blanket.
“I’ll start work on it tomorrow,” said Jack, breathing in Ianto’s warmth.
“No rush,” Ianto said. “You can tell Gwen that she’s stuck as a bit more pretty for the next little while, but she’ll still be playing second fiddle to the cute Welsh bloke with the wings.”
“She’ll cliff me,” Jack replied, “Though on the bright side, I might get a shag from Rhys.”
“Like I wouldn’t save you,” Ianto grumbled.
“I knew you adored me,” Jack replied, kissing Ianto gently.
“That, and I’m not marrying a human pancake,” Ianto said.
“Dear Diary,” Jack said, in his best swooning tone. “He finally proposed…”
“Go to sleep and I’ll marry you in the morning,” Ianto replied, opening his eyes a crack.
“I’d at least better get a shag,” Jack said, suddenly getting a mouthful of feathers when Ianto shifted his wing to cover Jack’s face.
“Goodnight, Jack.”
“‘Night,” Jack replied, spitting out feathers. “Angel.”
Rating: M (PG 15)
Spoilers: up to and including Journey’s End; vague team speculation based on characters from that episode but nothing you haven’t seen before.
Genre: crack, fluff, wing!fic
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Gwen/Rhys
Summary: Wish machines, a game of marry, shag or cliff that has gone on for more than a week now, wings and a shakeup from routine.
#
“Okay. Jack, Martha and Mickey.”
“Words cannot express how sick I am of this game,” said Ianto, closing his eyes. “Can. Not. Express.”
“I was thinking shag Jack, marry Martha, cliff Mickey.”
“That’s only because you don’t know Mickey very well,” Ianto said. “I usually end up being the one who gets cliffed, and it’s by that criterion, and it hurts every time.”
“Who could cliff you? Not even Rhys cliffed you.”
“I think that’s got more to do with the fact that he wants Jack as far away from you as possible,” Ianto replied, blowing the dust off one of the boxes from under Owen’s desk. “Who knew Owen had so much crap he’d never sorted through?”
“I had a bit of an idea,” said Gwen. “Good grief, he’s still got something plugged in down here.”
“With an alien adaptor,” Ianto said, pulling a face.
Jack would be fielding some questions about why and how there was one of those purple adaptors (the ones that they always needed more of because then they could connect future tech to the mains) sitting under Owen’s old desk in the Hub.
“What is it?” Ianto asked.
“Looks like a phone,” Gwen said, picking it up and examining it.
“Don’t point that thing at me,” Ianto warned. “Or at yourself.”
“Green button. That’s on,” she said, coy. “Well, it is here on Earth, anyway.”
“Gwen, if you’re trying to drive me up the wall, you’re succeeding,” Ianto said.
Gwen, bless her, had worked out that irritating Ianto helped him to keep the sense of loss at a minimum when they were cleaning out the last of Owen and Tosh’s stuff. These were the jobs that they’d put off for months, but had to deal with now if there were going to be new people in the Hub. Ianto was starting to work out her technique and although he knew he’d feel grateful afterwards, he was ready to strangle her right now.
“Don’t worry,” she said, with a broad smile. “I’m teasing you. Anyway, if Owen had it plugged in under his desk, the likelihood of it being dangerous is low.”
“One could dispute that,” Ianto said, softening.
“He’s written directions on it in permanent marker. Looks like blue is on,” she said, with a sigh. “Owen. What were you doing?”
“It is in his handwriting,” Ianto conceded, feeling a twinge of nostalgia at seeing Owen’s distinctive scrawl. “I take no responsibility if it turns out to be a weapon.”
Gwen’s phone rang. She squeaked, Ianto jumped, and they both broke into nervous laughter as she pressed the connect button.
“Gwen. I’m coming in,” said Jack. He paused. “What’s up? You’re a bit breathless.”
“We found something weird under Owen’s desk,” she said.
“Define weird,” Jack said, gruff.
“Looks like a phone, six oval buttons, four square buttons, Owen’s own handwriting covering up the alien script?” Gwen said.
“Oh. That,” Jack said. “It was under his desk? Tosh would have killed him long ago had she known that.”
He paused, a little sadly.
“Blue is on, yeah?” Gwen asked. “Should I press it?”
“Press the button,” said Jack, over the phone. “It’s harmless, just a bit of fun. I forgot that we had it. Owen used to make mischief with it.”
“What does it do?”
“You’ll find out,” Jack said. “See you in a few. I’ll get you some coffee.”
He hung up. Gwen looked at Ianto.
“He said to press it,” Gwen said, pressing the button. “Oh!”
“What?” Ianto asked, spooked by her gasp. “Gwen, are you okay? Gwen?”
“It’s fine. Just tickled,” she said, looking at him and smiling. Ianto blinked.
“I...Gwen, come with me,” he said, urgently. “Come on.”
He helped her to her feet, the device still clutched in her hands.
“What?” she asked. “What?”
He dragged her into Jack’s office, to the full-length mirror that Jack liked to pose in front of.
“Oh wow,” Gwen said. “I look…”
“...hot,” Ianto said, as Gwen examined her skin.
“Shiny hair, perfect skin, teeth that sparkle,” she said. “It’s like every stupid beauty treatment that I had done for my wedding got re-done all at once.”
“Do you think Jack uses it?” Ianto asked, making eye contact with her.
She stifled a giggle. She was still Gwen, no doubt about it, just Gwen on a really good day.
“Oh no. He doesn’t, does he?” she said. “I wonder when it wears off, or if I just have to turn it off?”
“Don’t know,” said Ianto, taking it from her. “Let me have a look.”
“Second thoughts,” said Gwen, examining her backside and sticking her chest out. “I’m not sure I want it to wear off. I swear my tits are an inch higher than they were this morning.”
“The blue button says fix above it,” said Ianto. “Red is undo. Purple is tentacles.”
He looked up at her.
“Tentacles?” she asked.
“There’s one here called fantasy,” said Ianto, with a grin.
“Push it,” said Gwen, her voice low.
“I couldn’t.”
“Oh, go on. I dare you,” said Gwen. “Push it. If you turn into a girl, you can borrow my jeans.”
He pushed the button, his suit suddenly too tight. Ianto yelped involuntarily.
“Ianto!” Gwen said, the game suddenly less fun.
“Oh my god,” he said. “Bloody hell…”
“Ianto!”
Ianto ripped his suit jacket off, his shirt tearing off his back.
“What the..?” he asked, as Gwen grabbed him, helped him to get his shirt off.
“I’m sorry,” she was saying, urgently. “You okay? You okay?”
“I’m okay,” Ianto said. “It was just a surprise.”
Gwen looked at him properly.
“Ianto, you’ve got…You’ve got…”
“Wings,” said Jack, from the doorway. “Coffee, anyone?”
Ianto turned. Jack was holding a cardboard tray from the coffee shop up at the Quay, a huge grin on his face.
“I said it was fun,” he said. “Come on, I got you the expensive stuff.”
“What is it?” Ianto asked.
“It’s a wish machine. Tosh and Susie spent six months trying to work out how to cannibalize it to use it to heal people, but the patent protect on the tech is too stong. It’s only good for fun stuff,” Jack said, setting the coffee tray down and picking up his own cup. “Gwen. Looking good.”
“So how long do the effects last?” Gwen asked, taking her own cup. “I need to hit the wing button. That’s amazing.”
“You get sick of them after a bit,” Jack said, passing a paper cup to Ianto. “Here you go, wingman. You hit the fantasy button, didn’t you?”
“Please tell me that you didn’t just call that a wish machine,” Ianto said, accepting his coffee.
Jack shrugged.
“Well, what else is it? That’s what we used to call them when we were on rec leave. You know, slip into a more comfortable face - or set of mandibles - for a few hours?”
Jack picked up the machine and flicked through a few different hair colours, pointy teeth, horns and then something that looked disturbingly like Dr Zoidberg before coming back to his own familiar face.
“Effect lasts until you reprogram yourself back to what you were. Some people never changed back; can you blame them? If I were ugly…” Jack said, regarding it with a fond glance. “Owen and Susie played with it on and off until Project Goldenrod. She made him go on the pull with a tail on.”
It was strange, Ianto thought, to remember that Owen and Tosh had been at Torchwood for longer than either himself or Gwen; that it had been possible to exist at Torchwood Three earlier than their arrival.
“A wish machine,” Gwen said, incredulous.
Gwen was stroking Ianto’s feathers, a delighted expression on her face. He had brown feathers, sensible brown feathers, he realised, stretching out a wing. It was as automatic and easy as stretching out an arm. Giddy excitement fought his overwhelming fear of changes to his body, trying to win out.
“Until you can tell me exactly how the microwave works, you have no call to lambast my failure to know the intimate workings of the technology that I grew up with,” Jack said. “It’s probably nanogenes. These things usually are.”
“A wish machine,” Ianto echoed.
“Those,” said Jack, gesturing at Ianto’s wings. “Were a bit passe by the time I was using one. First thing anyone wanted was wings. By the time I was into it, it was flippers all the way.”
“Flippers?” Ianto asked, a note of fascinated horror creeping into his tone.
“Ooh, yeah. Flippers and mandibles. And tentacles, but really, when do tentacles ever go out of style?” Jack asked.
“I can’t imagine,” Ianto said. “I…No. I really, really can’t imagine. When will I go back to being Ianto, sans the wings?”
Anything that changed him disturbed Ianto. Had done since before Canary Wharf, still did now. His time at Torchwood had done nothing to make him more comfortable with physical changes, especially those initiated by technology; these things usually led to disaster.
Gwen was still idly stroking his feathers, and Ianto tried to keep himself calm, focussing on the pleasure of physical sensation and the excitement of wings. Don’t focus on how you got them, he told himself. Jack will sort that out.
“Um,” said Jack, looking at the machine.
“What?”
“I might have run the battery down.”
Jack held it up. Backlighting on the buttons that Ianto hadn’t even been aware of until it was absent, was dark.
“It’s future tech! Why does it need a battery?” Ianto asked, horrified.
“Microwave!” Jack said.
“So how long will it take to charge?” Ianto’s inner battle between panic and excitement was raging, with excitement suffering heavy casualties.
“It’s been left on for a long time before this,” Jack said.
“That’s impossible. Owen had it plugged into one of those purple things,” Gwen said.
“So that’s where it went,” Jack said, suddenly far away. He shook his head, coming back to the problem at hand. “Purple won’t work on this. It’s the wrong century; I’ll be amazed if he hasn’t damaged the plug jamming it in there. We need a red adaptor.”
“Oh,” Ianto said. “I was afraid you’d say something that.”
“It’ll probably take a few days. I’ll set it up downstairs in my quarters,” said Jack.
“Assuming we have a red adaptor.”
“I have good and bad news,” Ianto sighed, as excitement waved a white flag and he surrendered to his over-active imagination telling him that Owen probably had broken the plug, and Ianto was going to get stuck. “We have an adaptor.”
“And..?” Jack asked.
“It’s plugged into the coffee machine.”
“I’m happy to stay pretty,” Gwen said, quickly.
“I want to see what you’re like in bed with a bit more leverage,” Jack added, raising an eyebrow.
Ianto flushed. Bloody Jack. The man very seldom ever seemed to think before he opened his mouth. Jack seemed to realise his mistake, going to speak. Ianto cut him off.
“Have I ever told either of you that when I was a child, being a sex toy with wings was not the way I envisaged my adult life panning out?” Ianto asked. “I’m unplugging the coffee machine. Deal with it.”
He stalked out, the sweeping effect somewhat spoiled when his impressive wingspan got stuck in the doorway and Jack had to help him wriggle to get free, running a soothing hand across his nape as he did so.
“I vote we cliff him,” said Gwen, mock-conspiratorial.
Ianto made a rude gesture at her, not bothering to turn around.
“Mmm,” Jack replied, watching Ianto go. “Nah. I’d miss him too much.”
#
The bar was filling up, people in suits from the surrounding offices, girls wearing expensive jeans, out to pick up or wind down. Gwen was already at their regular table, beer in hand. Rhys spotted her from across the room, settled into a chair beside her, slipped a hand onto her thigh.
“So,” said Rhys. “Where’s Ianto and Jack, then?”
“You,” Gwen said, shaking her head. “No hello darling, how was your day…”
They kissed, familiar.
“Gwen,” he said, looking at her. “You look especially gorgeous today, love. You get your hair done?”
“No,” she replied, wriggling on her seat a little. “You think I look good?”
Rhys looked down at his own gut, and then back at her.
“I think I’ll have to keep an eye on my bird,” he said. “Everyone’s looking at you.”
“Jack’s been thinking the same thing about Ianto, I reckon,” Gwen said. “I’ll get you and me some drinks. Jack said they’d meet me here, but that was an hour ago.”
“Wait,” said Rhys. “I see them. Ianto’s not…he’s feeling okay, then?”
People had stopped talking as the pair made their way across the room. Ianto kept his head up, and Gwen felt a surge of pride warm her. A year ago he would have shuffled and shied away from the attention, but now he strode across the crowded bar towards them. Jack had a possessive arm around Ianto as they reached the table.
“Okay,” Jack said. “Let me get your chair. Then wings go up, you sit, wings go down.”
“You’ve done this before,” Ianto said, fond. “You didn’t want to join me in my cumbersome featheriness?”
“Not really. I prefer flying inside a ship. Preferably with lots of lights and clicky things,” Jack replied, pulling out a chair for Ianto. “Hi Rhys. Shut your mouth, you’ll catch flies.”
“He has wings,” Rhys said, more than just a little incredulous.
“Tech accident,” Jack shrugged, pulling a chair up next to Ianto’s. “What’s everyone drinking?”
“Beer,” said Rhys, still looking like he’d been hit in the face with a spade.
“Designated driver,” Gwen said. “Something else. Coke?”
“Anything with a lot of alcohol in it,” Ianto said.
Jack kissed Ianto’s forehead, getting up from the table.
“You came out with wings,” Rhys said, astonished.
“I see you two have made up,” Gwen said.
“Yep,” Ianto said, picking up a bar mat, tapping it on its side.
“They had a screaming fight earlier,” Gwen said. “Well, an Ianto version of a screaming fight, which seems to involve lots of hissed comments and meaningful silences.”
Ianto rolled his eyes.
“Must you gossip more than my bloody mother does?” he asked.
“It’s still less than everyone else in the pub is,” said Rhys, as someone else pointed at Ianto. “You could have warned me that he’d have wings, Gwen.”
“We figured most people would just think I was some sort of weirdo,” Ianto shrugged.
“Well, you got that one down,” Rhys said, with a nod. “So they’re real?”
“They seem to be.”
“Can you fly?” Rhys asked.
“Nope.”
Gwen put a hand over Ianto’s. They’d tried that afternoon, when Jack had stormed out in a sulk after Ianto had said something horrible (that, much to her chagrin, he refused to reveal to Gwen) which had been hurtful enough that both of them had been moody all afternoon. So she’d played at flying with Ianto, but aside from seriously disturbing Myfanwy and making papers fly all over the Hub from the breeze from Ianto’s flapping, he’d only managed seconds of lift.
“Drinks, kids.”
Jack placed everyone’s drink down, giving Ianto’s feathers an affectionate ruffle.
“Marry you,” said Ianto. “You bring me drinks.”
“I still think just shag,” Gwen said.
“We’re not still going with this, are we?” Rhys asked, despairingly. “You’ve not been possessed by the ghosts of teenaged idiots, have you?”
“Just wait, any moment we’ll be downloading the latest ringtone by an animated character,” said Ianto, raising an eyebrow. He slipped a hand onto Jack’s knee.
“So how’s the world of haulage?” Jack asked.
“There’s no bloody wings in it,” Rhys replied, still staring. “Can I touch them?”
“Yeah. Just don’t pull out any feathers,” Ianto said. He shivered, rustling a little as Rhys reached out. “Sorry. Tickles.”
“So you have nerves in there and everything?”
“Everything,” Ianto said, as Jack smoothed over his feathers, lovingly.
“They’re totally his. It’s a physical transformation,” said Jack, as Ianto sipped his drink.
“They grew from his body. They’ll re-absorb once we get the tech fixed.”
Gwen spotted the sad little look that Ianto gave the feathers. He was doing what he did best; desiring something that freaked him out and was not particularly viable, but that he’d already got a little taste of. She’d seen that sad look before, and it had been when Jack had vanished with the Doctor.
“I’m growing more and more fond of them.”
“I’m amazed Jack let you out, looking like that,” Rhys replied.
“It’s a neat trick. You show the public something that couldn’t possibly exist, and they’ll accept it as some sort of trickery or fooling simply because it couldn’t exist,” Jack said.
“Besides, you don’t let Ianto do anything.”
“Sitting right here, thanks,” Ianto replied. “Not really so far under Jack’s thumb that he organises my social calendar.”
“I seem to recall a drunken marriage proposal between you two action heroes last time we were out,” Rhys said, raising an eyebrow.
“I seem to recall someone else broke a chair,” Ianto replied, raising an eyebrow back.
Jack turned to Gwen.
“I have my bets on Ianto winning this one,” he said.
“I’ve got spousal loyalty pulling me onto Rhys’s side,” Gwen replied.
“I’m sure his pulling power is stronger than that,” Jack said, with a wink.
“You’d better believe it,” Rhys said, dragging Gwen a little closer, giving Ianto a smug grin.
“Proposals don’t count if you’re drunk,” Ianto said.
“He’ll make an honest man of you someday, Jack,” Gwen said, consolingly.
“A girl can live in hope,” Jack said, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t know why I put up with any of you,” Ianto said. He leaned across to Jack, kissing him quickly. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
Ianto got up, people moving out of his way as he strode across to the bar towards the toilets. Jack sighed contentedly, watching him go.
“So you sorted things out?” Gwen asked. “You’re doing pretty bloody well if you’ve got Ianto kissing you in public.”
Rhys laughed affectionately.
“She’d not going to stop asking until she gets too much information for her own good,” he said.
“I know this woman.”
“Ianto hates anything that changes his body,” Jack shrugged. “Once we got past that bit, he’s loving it. Don’t let his sarcastic exterior fool you. He even modified his own shirts so that he has wing holes.”
He looked across the pub at Ianto, who was graciously letting people examine the wings, only flirting slightly.
“Oh my gosh! They’re so well done,” a girl was saying. “You should totally sell these. You’re such an artist.”
Ianto’s response was too soft and too Welsh to carry across the room, but Jack smiled indulgently anyway.
“Excuse me,” Jack said, standing. “I’ll get the next round.”
Jack slipped over to Ianto, not going near to the bar at all.
“You’re happy,” said Rhys, as they watched the pair. “You’re all three happy.”
“Hmm?” Gwen asked.
“Things have been pretty grim lately, love.”
Gwen looked at him.
“When a game of marry, shag or cliff goes on for more than a week, it’s time to take stock of things,” Rhys said. “This is the first time I’ve seen all three of you happy since the bombs.”
“Oh,” Gwen said, quietly. “I suppose we are.”
“It’s a bit of a shakeup from routine that did it,” Rhys said. “Just what you needed.”
“Just what we needed,” Gwen echoed. “It’ll be weird when Mickey comes on board full time.”
“You need to get another girl. A hot one. Blonde.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when we’re recruiting,” Gwen said. “Excuse me, Miss, but you’re a hot blonde. My husband thinks you’d be perfect at fighting aliens. You can blind them with your fake tan.”
“You’re the only girl for me,” Rhys said.
“You’d better believe it,” Gwen replied. “I like being the girl on the team. I have the option of spraining my ankle when things get too hard.”
“You’d not sprain your ankle if you didn’t spend the money we set aside for my PlayStation on inappropriate shoes,” Rhys said, as Jack aided and abetted Ianto in showing off in front of a gathering crowd of adoring blonde girls.
“They’re perfectly appropriate,” Gwen said, as he held out a hand to her, pulling her close.
“You like it when I keep them on...”
Rhys shook his head, slipping a hand under her top. He stopped. “Gwen?”
“Mmm?”
“This new look….”
“Mmm?”
“You’re not going to stay like this forever?” he asked
“I don’t think so,” she replied.
“I love you for your mind,” Rhys said, sagely.
Gwen laughed into his shoulder, then.
“You did say a shakeup from the routine, you idiot,” she said. “Come on, let’s go. Something tells me Jack’s not coming back with that drink.”
#
There were feathers everywhere when Jack emerged from his quarters in the Hub next morning. Ianto was looking a little the worse for wear, halfway between sore and sated, yawning as he set the kettle on to boil.
“It has scale in it,” he said, reproachfully. “I’m not staying over so that you can experiment with leverage just to get scaly coffee in the morning.”
“Good morning,” Jack replied, moving so that he was behind Ianto, slipping his arms in under the feathers and around Ianto’s waist. “In a good mood?”
Jack realised that Ianto hadn’t bothered to dress either, reveling in the sensation of bare skin against his own body. If Gwen came in early, he mused, she’d get an eyeful. Perhaps she could be persuaded to have naked day at work; the Hub was warm enough.
“I’ll be in a better mood once I have my coffee,” Ianto said, without ire. “Should have used the wish machine to give you scales.”
“There’s always something good that you get with these machines. Scales would be useful; I couldn’t get stabbed easily, for a start.”
“Mmm. Would you drop your tail when frightened, like a lizard?”
“I don’t have a…” Jack suddenly looked mock-horrified, glancing downwards as if to reassure himself that he hadn’t been emasculated. “Ianto!”
“I’d be terribly upset if you dropped your tail,” Ianto said, pouring hot water into the press.
“So you should be. Come and sit on my lap and reassure me that it’s still in working order,” Jack replied, into Ianto’s neck. “Mind you, those machines are a little unpredictable with twentieth century biology. I could have had a scaly Ianto rather than a feathered one quite easily.”
“So how come Gwen didn’t get scales or feathers?” Ianto asked. He pulled away from Jack, flexing his wings. “She got the equivalent of autofix and I lost the ability to fit through doorways.”
“You gained the ability to fly,” Jack pointed out.
“Nope. Tried it.”
“You’re obviously not trying hard enough,” Jack replied. “I remember this one time…”
“Jack, no,” Ianto said, defeated. “I’m itchy, my shoulders and back hurt and I’m moulting like I have mange. I can’t fly.”
“Ianto,” Jack said, reproachful.
“I know,” Ianto said, flopping onto the lounge and wincing as he squashed his wings with his body weight. “This is an extraordinary opportunity.”
Jack sighed. Ianto met his eyes before continuing.
“I’m just sort of over it,” Ianto said. “I seem to end up being the butt of every joke the bloody Rift plays on us, ever.”
He raked his fingers through the downy feathers on his left wing, neatly collecting the moult feathers in a little pile on his bare knee.
“Wish I could fly, though,” he said, softly.
“Where have you tried?” Jack asked, leaning against the railing, watching him.
“Just in here.”
“Did you jump?”
“Sort of,” Ianto replied, switching wings to finger-comb through the right one, carefully.
“Hovering is the hardest thing to do,” Jack replied. “You need to glide, get up on a hillside and run. Let the air do the work. You ever flown in a glider?”
“No.” Ianto didn’t look up.
“I lost power to my engines once, out over the Channel. Managed to float down on the breeze and land softly as a feather,” said Jack. “Of course, the plane then sank and I drowned, but the theory was sound. Washed up on a beach three days later. ”
“You think I should just throw myself off a cliff?”
“Nah. This country is full of hills. Run down one and see if you can get some lift,” Jack said, happily. “I thought I already told you I’d cliff Rhys, not you.”
“This would be in the game where you said you’d shag Gwen?” Ianto asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, it was worth it and you know it was,” Jack said, with a little quirk of his eyebrows. He slowly approached, trying not to annoy Ianto more than he already was.
“I don’t think Rhys appreciated it,” Ianto said, combining the piles of feathers, carefully not meeting Jack’s eyes.
“I seem to recall you laughing at the time. I seem to recall you laughing even harder when Rhys tried to flounce away and broke that chair,” Jack said, sitting next to Ianto, sliding a hand onto Ianto’s thigh. “Gwen should really remember that her party games are best saved for when we’re drunk.”
“Jack,” Ianto said, as Jack levered fingers under Ianto’s side to pull him closer. “You’re changing the subject.”
“No,” Jack said, as Ianto allowed himself to be manhandled into an awkward hug, the neat pile of feathers dispersing around them. “I’m not. I’m thinking. It’s Myfanwy’s exercise day next week, isn’t it?”
“Mmm,” Ianto said. “What are you thinking?”
“Let’s go out to the country today and try running down hills. Myfanwy won’t care if we go a few days early,” Jack said, pressing a kiss just under Ianto’s ear. “You can glide, she can fly, Gwen can keep an eye on the Hub.”
“You plan to come?” Ianto asked unsteadily, distracted by Jack’s wandering hands.
“Even if you’re not enjoying this, I am.”
Jack kissed Ianto, a proper deep kiss. He was enjoying this more than he’d expected to. It wasn’t just the sex and the comforting flurry of feathers. It was seeing Ianto’s excitement and awe at his own capabilities, the things he hadn’t seen himself as capable of doing.
“Shag, marry or cliff?” Jack asked, seriously.
“Shag. Then cliff,” Ianto replied, kissing back.
“Ah, one shag to prove to you that you shouldn’t cliff me. I’m up to this challenge,” Jack said, as Ianto’s questing fingers found the prize he’d been after.
“That,” Ianto replied, shifting to straddle Jack. “Had better be the worst pun that you perpetrate all day, or you’re getting cliffed before the shag.”
Jack’s self-confidence turned out not to be misplaced, and he managed not to get himself cliffed at all. Not even when he woke Gwen up from a hung over slumber to tell her that she was on Hub watch for the next few hours, that he had extremely important business to take care of with Ianto.
“I’m still gorgeous,” Gwen said, sleepily. “I don’t know whether to be delighted or horrified.”
“You’re beautiful no matter what you look like,” Jack said, softly.
“You great spinner of pick-up lines,” she said.
“Believe it, Gwen.”
“Have fun with Ianto,” she replied. “I’ll be at the Hub in an hour.”
When they finally got on the road, Myfanwy was a bad passenger. Jack didn’t always go along to take her for an extended fly, as she seemed to regard Ianto as her human and return to him most often out of the team. She stuck her beak between them as they drove up a winding country lane.
“Almost there,” Ianto said, patting the hard bony ridge between her eyes. “She sleeps on the way back. Gets tired out by the end.”
She half-heartedly snapped at his hand, missing and hitting clear air instead. Jack shook his head.
“I should come on these trips more often,” he said.
“Yes,” Ianto replied. “You should. They’re fun, Jack. Remember fun?”
“I remember fun,” Jack said, with a swift glance at Ianto.
Myfanwy spoiled the moment by hacking and throwing up on the dropsheet that Ianto had spread over the back seat. Jack shook his head. He’d laughed at the dropsheet, at Ianto’s obsessive cleanliness.
“And now we see why, like a good boy scout, Ianto is always prepared,” Ianto said, looking over his shoulder. “Nearly there. Hang onto your guts for a few more minutes, okay?”
Myfanwy launched herself straight out of the back of the SUV once Ianto opened it at a lookout, a lake spreading across the land in front of them.
“I thought if we went near the lake, we’d be okay if I went into a nosedive,” Ianto said, shaking out the dropsheet. “We’ll leave this out to dry; it’ll get rid of the worst of the smell.”
“Put your headset on, okay?” Jack said. “I want you in contact once you get into the air.”
“I won’t do anything stupid,” Ianto replied.
“Ianto,” Jack said, watching him. How could he tell Ianto that he’d be worried sick if Ianto vanished into the sky, flying away from Torchwood and Jack? Myfanwy flapped past them like a bat out of hell, squealing into the ultrasonic ranges. Jack winced, cursing his sharp hearing; Ianto didn’t seem bothered at all.
There was a little incline at the top of the lookout, just perfect for their purposes.
“Up here,” Jack said.
He felt a swell of affection when he realised that Ianto was unselfconsciously using his wings to balance as they clambered up the steep slope.
“It won’t take you long to grasp the essential concepts. Start by gliding at ground level; just
lift your feet once you have some speed,” Jack said. “And then start flapping. It’ll feel weird at first, because they’re not muscles you use.”
Ianto wasn’t even breathless as they got to the top. Jack put both hands on his waist, noting with amusement that Ianto’s jumper seemed to have a complex arrangement of press studs and slits in the back to allow him movement and warmth. He hadn’t even seen Ianto have the time to do it.
“Okay,” Jack said, close to Ianto’s ear. “Run.”
“I feel like a total idiot, Jack,” Ianto said.
“Run, and use that rock to give yourself a lift,” Jack instructed. “You’re not a jump jet. You can’t take off from a standing start.”
Ianto ran, used the rock, soared for about twenty feet, gaining height as the hill dropped away, and then lost his nerve, dropping a little.
“Ianto, flap!” Jack called, hoping Ianto was listening.
“I…” Ianto was breathless into the earpiece.
“Flap!” Jack made flapping motions.
Ianto flapped, and got lift. His first flight, all things considered, was a success, despite being jerky. Jack’s heart nearly stopped a few times when Ianto’s concentration dipped and his altitude dropped sharply, but by five minutes of flight Ianto was starting to use the wind to help him maintain altitude without effort. He whooped into the earpiece, soaring like a bird, Myfanwy circling around him in delight. When Ianto finally came in to land, Jack got an armful of excited feathery Welshman.
“Jack!” Ianto said, excitement palpable. “It’s so beautiful.”
You’re beautiful, Jack thought. He held Ianto still, delighted.
“Just need to catch my breath,” Ianto added. “It’s a little exhausting.
“There’s a thermos of coffee in the car,” said Jack. They sat in the back of the SUV, watching Myfanwy, as Ianto expanded on his plans for his next flight.
“I need to work on turning circles. And lift. I have to be able to use thermals,” he said, as Myfanwy hovered overhead. “I wonder if I’d be able to use the updrafts between the buildings in Cardiff?”
He passed the thermos back to Jack, clambering back up to the incline to take off. Jack watched him fly as high as Myfanwy. Yes, he definitely needed to come along on these trips a lot more.
“Jack?” Ianto asked, over the whistling wind in his earpiece.
“You okay?”
“There’s a tour bus coming up the hill,” Ianto said. “I’ll try to get up high.”
“You take care,” said Jack. “Remember that there’s always retcon. They might not even stop here.”
He winced as he heard the crunch of tyres and the scuff of air brakes as the tour bus pulled up. Voices carried on the wind as Jack sipped his coffee.
“Oh my god! It’s an angel!”
Jack turned in dismay to see the group of tourists stopped at the lookout.
“Ianto,” he said into his Bluetooth. “Definitely best not to come in to land, yeah?”
“Okay,” Ianto replied, a little breathless. “Who are they?”
“American tourists,” Jack said, as Myfanwy dove toward the lake, plummeting in only to explode through the surface, what looked like a large salmon in her beak. “Oh, our girl knows how to turn it on for the cameras.”
“Our girl knows how to turn it on for mental Americans,” Ianto said, totally out of sight.
“Are you insulting the place that most people in this time period seem to think I’m from?” Jack asked, suspicious.
“You’re not, but.”
“No,” he said, with mild relief. “I’m not.”
Jack regarded the woman who was rather over-excitedly trying to take photos of Myfanwy. He supposed that he should get up, walk over the railing and make sure that no-one was doing anything stupid.
“Did you see it?” asked another woman. “There was an angel!”
“Are you sure it wasn’t a large bird?” Jack asked.
“I got a photo!”
Jack looked at the display on the back of her camera and sighed. She had indeed got a photograph; it was really a very good photograph. Ianto was particularly recognisable in it.
“Oh,” he said. “It’s gotta be a fake.”
He slipped his fingers into his wriststrap, quietly pressing a button.
“Oh dammit! My camera’s run out of batteries!” the woman said, to a friend. “The screen’s gone black.”
“So has mine!” said a man.
“And mine!”
Jack felt a twinge of guilt. Only a twinge. Ianto was more important than holiday snaps.
“Get rid of them. I’m getting tired,” Ianto said, into his ear.
“I’ll try,” Jack said.
He didn’t have to.
“Okay, people, that’s time! I don’t think this angel of yours really exists,” the tour guide called. “We have an iron age site to get to!”
The tourists piled onto their bus, and as it started up, heading down the hill, Ianto floated down to Jack. He was cold to the touch, shivering a little.
“Coffee.”
“I drank it all,” Jack said, apologetic.
“Heater, then. Call Myfanwy and we’ll go,” Ianto said, slipping both arms around Jack’s waist, under his coat. “Too cold. Stupid tourists.”
“It’s been a few hours, anyway,” Jack said.
“Hours?” Ianto asked, surprised.
Jack chuckled, pressing his cheek to Ianto’s cold cheek.
“You got a bit carried away there, Angel.”
“I can’t believe they thought I was an angel,” Ianto said. “Granted, this is God’s own country, but what on earth would an angel be doing here? Wouldn’t they be better off helping the poor, rather than scaring sheep?”
“Americans. Mental,” Jack agreed. “Where’s the dog whistle?”
Myfanwy flew back when they whistled her, settling quietly in the back of the SUV, hacking up a fish tail to slobber on for the drive back to Cardiff. Ianto shut her in as Jack started up the engine, turning up the heating to warm Ianto.
“Done,” Ianto said, getting into the passenger seat.
“Success,” Jack added, as Ianto slammed the door.
Ianto yelped.
“You good?” Jack asked, as Ianto unlatched the door.
“Yep,” Ianto said, wheezing a little. “Just shut the car door on myself.”
He ruffled his feathers, dragging his wing in and holding it carefully out of the way as he slammed the door again.
Ianto slept in the SUV on the way back, resting on the side window, using his feathers to make a warm spot to snuggle into. The rewarding burn of exhaustion wasn’t enough, however, to keep him from rousing when Jack stopped to fill the SUV. Myfanwy woke too, eyeballing children in another car through the tinted windows. Ianto stretched, ruffling his feathers.
“Tired?” Jack asked.
“A bit sore,” Ianto said. “I’m going over to get a burger. Want anything?”
“Chips,” Jack said. “We’ll take a shower when you get back. I’ve been thinking about it, and I reckon the communal showers in the Hub are big enough for you to stretch out properly.”
“Mmm. Don’t think I didn’t notice the we in there,” Ianto teased.
“Don’t think I’ve heard you complaining,” Jack replied, as Ianto dug awkwardly for his wallet from his back pocket, trying to manoeuvre around his wings.
There was a queue. Ianto was still standing in it after Jack had paid for the fuel and driven the SUV around to park. Jack realised with a sinking feeling that the tour bus had pulled up before they’d arrived, and the place was full of tourists stretching their legs and getting a feed. Ianto was being mobbed in the queue.
“It’s the angel!”
It’s the Americans! Jack thought. Hurrah!
He slipped through the crowd, catching a sly grin from Ianto.
“You got me my chips yet?” Jack asked.
“I would think that the absence of chips would indicate that I have not,” Ianto replied. He made eye contact with the woman behind him. “He’s not jumping the queue. I buy him food.”
“Are you, you know, saving him?” asked a woman.
“Yes, ma’am, I think I can say that I am,” Ianto said, completely seriously. “Though I repeat that I’m not an angel. What would an angel be doing buying a burger and chips? I don’t think angels eat.”
They certainly don’t shag like you do, Jack thought.
“So what are the wings about, then?”
“You know those contests,” said Ianto, slowly. “The ones where there’s people who jump off the end of a pier and the one who glides the furthest wins?”
“Oh, yeah!” said a tall woman. She poked her husband. “Honey, there’s one of those at the Marina this summer.”
“Right. Well, I’m in training for one of those,” Ianto said, keeping an entirely straight face. Jack was astonished by his self-control. “So I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t post any of your photos online. I’d like to keep my secret weapon a secret.”
“Oh,” said the woman’s husband, a broad-gesturing, gregarious man. “But why do it in the middle of the countryside?”
“It’s winter,” Ianto said, scandalised. “I’m not going for a dip in the ocean!”
“Next please!” said the cashier.
Jack waited until they were back in the car before collapsing into fits of laughter.
“You’re not going for a dip in the ocean?” Jack asked, laughing through a mouthful of chips. He threw a few into the back seat, where they were snatched by Myfanwy’s greedy beak.
“What else was I supposed to say?” Ianto asked. “I thought it was clever.”
“I don’t think that I can articulate how much I like you right now,” Jack replied.
“I don’t think that I can articulate how much I need a shower,” Ianto said, wiping greasy fingers on the paper bag that had held his burger, before settling against the window again, drawing his feathers around himself. “Drive, Jeeves.”
Jack saluted for Ianto, putting the car into gear.
“Yes sir.”
#
Life with wings, Ianto mused, was getting easier. After a period of initial awkwardness getting through doorways and the hole in the floor of Jack’s office, he’d worked out the trick to folding himself as small as possible. And Jack’s idea of showering in the communal showers had been inspired; squeezing into a stall at home had left him feeling under-clean, his body sheltered by feathers. Ianto liked being able to stretch out in the steam. Even Gwen had got in on the act, buying him shampoo made for show birds.
Ianto was wondering if insisting on two accompanied showers a day would be greedy. This was his second today, mostly because Jack had shot a large wobbly creature that turned out to have uneven pressure inside its gelatinous body.
“Stretch,” Jack instructed, running his fingers through the feathers. “You do know that in the wild, birds don’t get totally wet?”
“You do know that normally humans don’t have feathers?” Ianto asked, as feathers clogged the drain, making the water pool at their feet. He stretched his wing out as far as he could go.
“Oh. That’s good.”
“Glad to oblige,” Jack replied, kissing Ianto’s neck.
“You’d think with the amount I’m moulting, I’d be bald by now,” Ianto said idly, leaning into the brush of Jack’s fingers against his skin. “Jack. Do that again.”
“Oh, autonomic reactions. How do I love thee,” said Jack, as Ianto’s feathers flicked. “Now I know how to get you under my power whenever I want you there.”
Ianto chuckled, deeply. The water was starting to run cold, and Jack reached around him to turn off the taps.
“Finish off that paperwork. I’ll see you on the roof,” Jack said, into Ianto’s ear. The closeness of his breath made Ianto shiver, and then Jack was gone, the warmth of his body gone with him. Ianto dressed slowly, drying his feathers with the hairdryer that Jack thought he’d hidden successfully but Ianto had found on his second day in the job.
“Ianto,” Gwen said, as he walked up into the Hub. “I’m going over to the docks to check out a blip. You following Himself up to brood on the roof?”
“I have the right silhouette to brood successfully,” Ianto said.
Jack had left the folder of signed documents on Ianto’s chair. Ianto carefully checked that everything was in order, removing the sign here flags and counting page numbers.
“I’m a bit disturbed at how quickly I’ve got used to you with wings,” Gwen replied.
“I’m a bit disturbed at how quickly I’ve got used to me with wings,” Ianto said. “You take care at the docks. Go home after, okay?”
He slipped everything into a secure courier envelope. They were due for a drop tomorrow morning; he put it in the out pile to go to Torchwood Two as confirmation of a transfer member and a new member. Mickey and the unknown Torchwood Two person. Ianto wasn’t sure which one to be more nervous about.
“Yes, mum,” Gwen said, with a laugh.
“I’m not kidding,” Ianto said, mock-frowning. “You’ve been brilliant this last week. I don’t want to abuse your good nature.”
“Goodnight, then. It’s probably just a weevil,” Gwen said, as Ianto climbed onto the invisible lift.
Ianto strode across the Plass, heading to join Jack on the roof. The temptation to run and jump into the air, fly up and surprise Jack was great, but Ianto held onto his self-control, took the elevator instead. Jack was perched on the edge, coat billowing in the wind. He held out a hand at Ianto’s approach, not turning around. Ianto took Jack’s hand, twining their fingers.
They stood on the roof hand in hand, silent. Ianto spread his wings wide, letting the breeze catch the feathers. It was pleasurable, this rush of wind against his skin, this heady sensation that if he just let go of the Earth for a second, he could wheel and dip above central Cardiff.
“Paperwork done?” Jack asked, finally.
“Yeah. It was just sealing up the stuff you signed this afternoon; I did it all the other stuff this morning. Not for want of trying to find a distraction,” Ianto replied. “I found another red power adaptor in the Archives. We can have coffee again.”
“And Gwen..?”
“Gone out on what’s probably a weevil call. She’s going to do reconnaissance down by the docks, call in if there’s any hassles,” Ianto said. “You’re freezing, Jack.”
“You’re warm,” Jack replied, as Ianto drew him in under a wing. “Feel good?”
“Feel great. You should see the work I’ve done constructing Mickey’s identity. It’s a work of art,” Ianto said, as Jack drew closer.
Ianto wrapped them both up in his wings, together in a blanket of feathers, and Jack laughed softly into Ianto’s cheek.
“This is why I like wings,” Jack said, kissing Ianto. “You smell good.”
“I smell like a henhouse.”
“Stop questioning my authority,” Jack replied. “You smell good.”
“Me? Question your authority?”
Jack kissed Ianto hard, effectively shutting him up.
“So. Marry, shag or cliff?” Ianto asked, when Jack finally let him speak.
“I could go all three with you right now,” Jack said, his voice breathy in the warm cocoon of Ianto’s body. “Even if I cliffed you, I know you’d soar up into the sky.”
“I like the flying,” Ianto conceded. “And I like the sex. I like this.”
“I like this. Keep them,” Jack said. “We can always charge up the machine and just lie to Gwen. In case you ever want to get rid of them, or anything…”
“I can’t keep them. You’ll have to help me groom.”
“I enjoy doing that,” Jack said, cupping Ianto’s jaw in one broad hand.
“I’ll stick out like a sore thumb,” Ianto said.
“You like attention.”
“You’re just making excuses,” Ianto said, exasperated.
“Marry?”
“Marry you,” Ianto agreed. “But if it turns out that you only want me for my wings, I’ll be very put out.”
Ianto kissed Jack, pressing close. Jack’s trousers were moving, and Ianto frowned.
“Is that your phone in your pocket vibrating?” Ianto asked. “Or did you use the fantasy button on the wish machine without telling me?”
“Don’t give me ideas,” Jack said, fishing out his phone. “Gwen?”
Ianto felt his stomach shift with worry. Gwen wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t urgent.
“Gwen? Calm down.”
“What is it?” Ianto asked.
Jack put a finger on Ianto’s lips.
“Gwen, where are you? Okay. And the alien?”
Ianto felt his heart hammering. Jack was unsuccessfully keeping the worry from his voice as he talked.
“We’re coming. We’re coming, Gwen. Be right there. Okay?”
Jack looked up at Ianto, fishing in his pocket for his Bluetooth headset.
“It’s Gwen,” Jack said, suddenly pale. “She needs backup.”
“Where is she?”
“Down near the docks,” Jack said. “Ianto.”
Ianto looked at Jack, drawing his wings back, heart racing at what Jack might suggest. Jack spoke quickly as he put on his headpiece, flicking it on.
“You can get there quickly. You need to go. She’s fighting something in the air…if it gets her…” Jack trailed off, listening to the voice on the phone. “Gwen! Stay with me!”
Ianto stood on the ledge, looking down at the street below. The updraft of the city winds ruffled his feathers. Gwen was in trouble, and Ianto knew what he had to do. He hopped down, returned to Jack. Jack looked at him hopefully.
“Well. Here goes,” Ianto said. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” Jack said, their hands touching briefly. “The updrafts between the buildings will be pretty strong. Stay safe. Gwen, Ianto’s coming.”
Ianto ran for the edge, a vertiginous moment of oh god striking at his gut before he was suddenly off, riding the breezes of the city. Navigating was harder than he’d thought it would be; he had the sudden ludicrous thought that it was like being on Google Maps, a real version, stuck at not-quite-street-level and moving at sixty miles an hour. A gust buffeted him, and he gritted his teeth, trying not to inhale too much smog or too many bugs. He’d need a helmet, or a face mask.
Wait, what was he thinking? This wasn’t going to be permanent. Besides which, flying around Cardiff in a mask was just a little too…weird.
There was a piercing cry, and something flew at him, fast. Ianto fumbled, his turning circle huge; he berated himself for not flying enough, not getting the practice in. He struck out blindly, connecting with feathers that weren’t his.
“Get off!” he yelled. “Get off and stop bothering my friends!”
“Ianto!” Gwen called. “Up here!”
The creature flew at him again, and he darted aside.
“This is a lot harder than it looks!” Ianto called.
“I managed to get it with a tranquiliser; it’ll go down in a sec!” Gwen called.
“Good!”
The creature flew away from them, lighting on the roof. Ianto pushed himself to fly to hovering height; he noticed with relief that although it possessed the disturbing combination of large talons, a spiked crest and a wingspan bigger than his own, it was also falling asleep as it flew.
“Ianto!” Gwen called. “Here!”
“I can’t see you,” Ianto called, unable to turn easily mid-air. “Hang on.”
He could see the SUV approaching below, and he dropped down to meet Jack, stumbling a little as he landed. Ianto was breathless, made pale by the wind in his face. He turned, looking for Gwen, trying to spot her. His heart nearly gave out when he finally did.
Gwen was hanging onto a ledge on the abandoned building, holding on for grim death. Ianto considered the facts; he was a magnet for technology accidents and incursions into his brain, and Gwen was the one who got kidnapped and into physically dangerous situations. Jack, infuriatingly, bounced back from everything.
“Gwen!” Ianto said, his voice cracking onto a high note. “It’s out. It’s on the roof.”
“Ianto!” she yelled back. “I don’t think I can hold on much longer!”
“Get her! I’ll take care of things on the roof!” Jack said, and Ianto looked around.
“Jack, I don’t think I can take off from a standing start,” he said, stretching out.
“Try!” Jack snapped. “Ianto, if Gwen gets hurt…”
Ianto jumped, flapping furiously until he was sure his muscles would give in. But he had lift, he was getting lift, and he panted like a steam train trying to get up to Gwen.
“Ianto,” she said, when he got near. “Are you even strong enough to carry us both?”
“I don’t know,” he said, gasping for air. “I think once we’re airborne together I can probably glide for the ground. I don’t think these wings were really meant for two.”
“You’d better not risk it,” she replied, eyes bright.
“Are you insane? I’m not leaving you to die,” Ianto said, hovering closer. “Come on. You’ll have to hold onto me. I think holding onto you and remembering everything else will be too much brain power for me right now.”
He slipped his arms around her waist, bracing himself for the pull when her weight was added to his. Even still, it was surprising, and they dipped dizzyingly towards the ground before he found an updraft and rode it, letting it shove them towards the sky. Gwen yelped, and then laughed with delight.
Jack whooped from down below, and Ianto slipped out of the airstream, trying to light gracefully upon the rooftop, tumbling a little as they landed. Gwen and Ianto rolled in each other’s arms; it was painful and vital all at once.
“Oh my god,” Gwen said, half-laughing, half-gasping.
“Oh my god,” Ianto said, flat on his back, the cool concrete bliss on the burning pain of his muscles. “I think I’ve broken my wing.”
Gwen rolled off him, gingerly kneeling beside him. He felt her hands part his feathers, heard her indrawn breath.
“I think you might have too,” she said. “Oh my god, Ianto. That was brilliant.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” he asked, with a little laugh through the pain.
“Ianto! Gwen!”
Jack’s voice drew nearer and Gwen got up, running. Ianto put his head up to see Gwen hug Jack tightly. Jack kissed her, grateful.
“I think he’s hurt,” Gwen said.
“Ianto?”
Jack was suddenly there by his head, and Ianto smiled up at him, upside down.
“Hi,” Jack said, stroking Ianto’s cheek. “How you feeling?”
“Heroic,” Ianto said. “Help me sit up.”
His left wing hung oddly at the tip, and he drew it in close, hugging it to himself. Gwen crouched next to him again.
“What do we do? We can’t go to a doctor,” she said. “Has the machine recharged yet? Can we just cancel it?”
“I, ah,” Ianto said, as Jack reached around his waist to support him. “We could go to a vet? We could take the spiky bird-thing too?”
Jack offered him a knowing grin as Ianto petted his own feathers.
“I’ll give Martha a call. We can keep you comfortable until tomorrow,” he said. “Okay. Let’s get this thing into the SUV.”
“I thought it was going to be another bloody weevil,” Gwen said, with a nervous laugh. “Wasn’t expecting that.”
“It’s a Roc,” Jack said, pointedly. “It’s heavy, too.”
Ianto cradled his wing as Jack and Gwen hefted the Roc between them.
“Ooh, that’ll teach me for wearing heels,” Gwen said, taking little steps as they made their way to the fire escape.
“And here I was thinking I should break out my sparkly pumps,” Jack said, through his teeth.
“What the hell does this thing eat, bricks?”
“I wonder if Myfanwy’ll like it?” Ianto asked, trailing behind them, his wing starting to throb. If he’d ever doubted that this was real, that these things were part of him, here was the proof that he owned them.
“I wonder which one of them will eat each other first?” Jack asked.
“If we weren’t a covert organisation, think of the money we could make from selling the CCTV footage,” Ianto said.
“Roc vs pterodactyl vs birdman. Forget getting other people to pay for it, I’ll pay for it,” Jack replied.
“I’ll bring the popcorn,” Gwen said. “Oh, seriously, how many more stairs to go?”
They finally got down to the ground, hefting the Roc into the SUV. Gwen leaned against the side
door, catching her breath.
“We should have just tossed it off the side,” Jack said.
“Should have got Ianto to take it down,” Gwen said, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “Ianto? Love?”
“I think I probably would have dropped like a stone,” Ianto said.
“You’re white as a sheet,” said Gwen. “You’re hurting?”
“Yeah,” Ianto said, sore as the buzz of the adrenaline left his system. “I’m not really built for this.”
“Are you insane?” Gwen said. “You were brilliant! You out-swooped Jack!”
“I can never be out-swooped,” said Jack, wrapping his arms around Ianto. “But you’re a pretty good second.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Ianto said, rolling his eyes. “Especially if it’s not actually flattery, Jack.”
“He likes me really,” said Jack, sotto voce. “Come on. Hometime.”
Several hours later Ianto was sleeping on his stomach, his head on Jack’s chest and uninjured right wing stretched out over the rest of Jack. They’d bandaged his left wing best they could according to Martha’s directions, with a promise that she’d be up tomorrow to check it over properly. Both men started as the wish machine trilled a little beep to let them know that it had finally recharged. Jack grunted, shuffled a little, and then got up.
“What’s up?” Ianto asked, rousing.
“It’s finished charging,” Jack said, rubbing at his eyes.
“Oh,” Ianto said, a note of disappointment in his voice, drowsy with painkillers. “Well, use it tomorrow. I want to sleep now.”
“I think we should get things over and done with,” Jack said, picking up the wish machine.
“I’ve been a bit jealous of you and your wings of late.”
He turned the machine on, coming back toward Ianto.
“Jack, come back to bed,” Ianto said, a little uncomfortable.
“Just a sec…” Jack said, as he tripped over his own trousers, uncharacteristically clumsy. “Dammit!”
“What?” Ianto asked.
Jack looked up at him, his smile broad.
“Well,” he said, innocently. “It would seem that I’ve broken it when I fell. It’ll take a few weeks at least to get it fixed.”
“Oh dear,” Ianto said, returning the grin. “That’s terrible. Come back to bed.”
Jack put the broken wish machine on the bedside table, settling back under his feathery blanket.
“I’ll start work on it tomorrow,” said Jack, breathing in Ianto’s warmth.
“No rush,” Ianto said. “You can tell Gwen that she’s stuck as a bit more pretty for the next little while, but she’ll still be playing second fiddle to the cute Welsh bloke with the wings.”
“She’ll cliff me,” Jack replied, “Though on the bright side, I might get a shag from Rhys.”
“Like I wouldn’t save you,” Ianto grumbled.
“I knew you adored me,” Jack replied, kissing Ianto gently.
“That, and I’m not marrying a human pancake,” Ianto said.
“Dear Diary,” Jack said, in his best swooning tone. “He finally proposed…”
“Go to sleep and I’ll marry you in the morning,” Ianto replied, opening his eyes a crack.
“I’d at least better get a shag,” Jack said, suddenly getting a mouthful of feathers when Ianto shifted his wing to cover Jack’s face.
“Goodnight, Jack.”
“‘Night,” Jack replied, spitting out feathers. “Angel.”