TW/DW Fic: Just Because They Protect You Doesn't Mean They Like You (1/2)
Title: Just Because They Protect You Doesn't Mean They Like You (1/2)
Author: nancybrown
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Owen, Eleven, Amy, Rory, Tosh, Gwen
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Amy/Rory, implied Eleven/River, past Jack/Doctor, past Ianto/Lisa
Words: 14,200 (this part 7,200)
Rating: R
Summary: Working for Torchwood Cardiff means dealing every day with aliens, time travellers, annoying co-workers, and worst of all, tourists. A day in the life of someone who'd rather be somewhere else.
Warnings: language, character death, necrophilia, dub-con, excessive whining, incredibly offensive humour. To paraphrase another warning, this is a terrible story and should not be read by anyone.
Beta: fide_et_spe did an emergency beta on this and I say THANK YOU!
Spoilers: TW: goes AU from canon after "Adrift," DW: up through "Let's Kill Hitler"
AN: Written for reel_torchwood for the prompt: "Clerks"
PDF: Available at AO3.
***
Cardiff, Wales, United Kingdom
6:13AM
***
The noise broke into the middle of Ianto's dream: a raucous buzzing and tweeting, like the repetitious caw of a thousand angry ... somethings. Birds? The dream morphed into terror -- giant, slouching, with skeletal black wings and razor-like beak -- then scattered to rags as he opened his eyes.
The noise continued.
Everything was dark. Ianto thrashed his limbs, did not encounter another body but did manage to unwind the blanket he'd wrapped around himself twice as he half-rolled, half-fell onto the floor. As he became more alert, he saw that he was nowhere near his bed but in fact had slept naked in the wardrobe.
His mobile kept ringing. He stumbled to where he'd dropped it on the night stand, flipped it open, and said in a sleep-roughened voice, "Yeah?"
"I woke you up."
Ianto rubbed a hand over his face. Events from the previous night made their presence known in his memory, pickled with a bit too much whisky and aged about three hours. "Did you catch the Weevil, then?" When the call came, Jack had kissed him stupid and told him to stay put. As Ianto had just experienced a fantastic orgasm, backed up against the wall of his wardrobe and buffered by shirts and suit coats, he hadn't been in the mood to argue.
"Yeah. Piece of cake. I didn't want to wake you, so I came back here."
"Thanks."
"I need you to get dressed and head in." Jack's tone was apologetic, but Ianto heard the distinct sound of his lover sliding back into boss mode. Jack may have sucked Ianto's brains out through points south last night, but this morning, he was all work.
Work. "Today's my day off."
"I know."
"It's my first day off in four weeks." Four weeks which had included one of his co-workers taking an impromptu weekend to Spain with her new husband, but there was no point begrudging them. Gwen often spent weeks barely seeing Rhys. Ianto saw his own whatever-the-fuck-they-were-not-calling-it for sixteen to twenty hours out of every day.
"I know. I'm sorry. But there have been some weird sightings in Penarth, and the rest of us are going to go check them out. I want you on standby here in case we need backup support." The apology was in the order: Jack could have easily made Ianto go to the site with them, but instead would allow him to nurse his hangover in the quiet dark of the Hub. "It's just for a few hours."
"All right." He rubbed his face again. "Let me shower first and I'll be in."
"If you hold the shower, we can shower together here when I get back from Penarth." Boss Jack had swung pendulum-like back to can-I-just-call-him-my-boyfriend-already Jack, with the accompanying giddy, goofy glee.
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
***
The front door to the TIC hung askew from the frame. Ianto's steps slowed as he neared the wreckage, mouth forming into a vague imitation of "What the fuck?" over and over.
"Sorry," Jack said, appearing in the doorway, half-hidden by the splintered door.
"What happened?" Ianto tried walking at it from another angle. Still broken.
"Short story? We had to get inside fast."
"You had a key!"
"Dropped it," said Owen, walking out and looking entirely unapologetic. "Anyway, bit of paint, no-one will notice."
"The door is off!" The hinges were wrenched out of the wood. This wasn't a bit of paint, or even a simple rehanging. Ianto was staring carpentry in the face. Christ.
"Yeah," said Jack. "About that. I'll help you fix it when we get back, but right now, you need to keep an eye out from up here."
The headache from the hangover grew exponentially at the thought of sitting in the Tourist Office all morning. But it wouldn't do to leave the entrance to their top-secret base open to the public.
"I'll board it up."
Gwen said, "We need this entrance. Someone jammed gum in the lock from the car park entrance." Jack of course was the only one who could operate the lift from outside.
Ianto nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth lest expletives pour out.
Jack's wrist beeped. "Gotta go." He really was contrite: he actually kissed Ianto on the cheek before dashing out behind Toshiko and Gwen, with Owen close on his heels.
"Fuck."
All right. Fine. The Tourist Office was technically a business, if one that suffered under an even more Byzantine arrangement for funding than the organisation it disguised. He went inside, found a large piece of clean paper, and wrote: "I assure you, we are open."
A cat, mostly black but for one paw, strolled through the open doorway, leapt up onto the counter, and established this as her spot. Ianto tried twice to shove her off, but Pusska would not be moved.
"It'd serve you right to be eaten by the next alien who walks in." He was replied to with a soft purr, and a demonstration of flexibility that exceeded even 51st century physiology. "Show off."
Ianto taped the sign to the wall outside the door, and then went to make the first pot of coffee before he tackled removing the damn door.
***
The call came at eight o'clock sharp, routed via the dummy numbers Toshiko had set up and to the phone at the tourist desk. The Caller ID read: Francis Dawes.
"Good morning," Ianto said as smoothly as he could, caffeine having knocked off the worst edges of his headache. "Cardiff Imports."
"Good morning, Mr. Randolph." Dawes had a tidy voice, as clipped as a manicured lawn. "I have something you might find of interest."
"Mr. Dawes, how nice to hear from you." Ianto pulled out his notepad. "What did you find?"
"I don't like to say over the telephone. People listening in."
A quick glance confirmed the system recording the call was operating normally. "Of course. Can you give me a hint?"
Dawes coughed. "'The angels have the phone box.'"
"I see. We'll be by later today."
"Thank you, Mr. Randolph."
"Thank you for contacting us."
Ianto sighed as he set the handset down. Honestly, if he had his way, Torchwood's front would be an antiques store, masking their regular searches and seizures of alien property with a legitimate business. Instead, he and Tosh (mostly Tosh) had set up a handful of false businesses: imports, collectables, memorabilia. They had websites, business cards, and quietly unassailable false identities through which to acquire alien artefacts sitting in the mildewed basements and dusty collections of the unwitting.
"Mr. Randolph" dealt in rare collectibles and odd items, as did Dawes. Sometimes Dawes had a dismantled shield generator, sometimes (like today) he had another DVD he'd stumbled upon, unaware that these were mass-produced with the same odd message from the Doctor. The production of the DVDs, seventeen titles in all, had ceased, and Martha (who was also in the message) said the event it referenced had occurred. This did not stop Jack from confiscating the DVDs as they came in, taking them into his office, and using them as wanking material. (Knowing this, Ianto had purchased a pair of reading glasses identical to those worn by the Doctor in the Easter egg, and he got shagged within an inch of his life whenever he wore them.)
The DVDs could wait.
***
For a dinky out of the way office tucked back on Mermaid Quay, the TIC did a brisk business when it was open. Ianto tried to arrange his life so that this happened as little as possible, refusing to post hours he wouldn't keep anyway, locking the door at random, and providing intentionally out of date maps and dog-eared guidebooks to the poor souls who did wander in. He wasn't a total arse. Torchwood's favourite delivery drivers thought he must be hypoglycaemic for all the food he ordered, and he tipped them enough to keep them prompt and pleasant. When the other local establishments sent emissaries, often seeking extra maps or directions for weekend trips, he made sure to Google the best routes for them.
The Grannies were another thing entirely.
They always came in pairs or gaggles, never singly. The Gaggle Grannies tended to wear red hats and call each another "the girls." The longer they stayed in the Centre asking about local attractions, the higher the likelihood that one of them would cackle some joke that would make even Jack blush. The Paired Grannies were older than the Gaggles, as a rule, six teeth between them and smelling of cats and mothballs, always in colour-coordinated shawls. These Grannies tended towards the doddering, asking about parts of Cardiff that had been bulldozed for renovation years ago. The longer they stayed in the Centre, the higher the likelihood one would point out Ianto's lack of a wedding ring and mention a granddaughter or a niece.
Grannies of either variety were far better than the Welshaboos, which also came in two varieties: English and American. English Welshaboos were always in uni, always wore casually frumpy clothes that cost more than Ianto's entire teenage wardrobe had, and always had some ancestor, respectably far back, who was Welsh. They all wanted to "see the homeland" and expected Ianto to give them the secret insider's tour guide or some shit. American Welshaboos were distinguishable from English ones because the Americans spoke a small amount of Welsh badly, had a Welsh ancestor even farther back, and wanted to take pictures of Ianto. Sometimes they asked where the Millennium Centre was.
Jack said Ianto wasn't allowed to shoot them unless he was pretty sure they were aliens.
"My granddaughter Enid is about your age," said the peach-shawled Granny at the counter, as her blue-shawled associate fingered stickily through the brochures in the rack, gnawing open-mouthed at a sweet.
Ianto had a cousin Enid, on his dad's side. He hadn't seen her since the funeral, and not for five years before that. In his memory, she was forever a dark-haired teenager with spots and braces, perpetually embarrassed by both. He smiled politely at the Granny.
"I have her telephone number, let me give it to you," said the Granny, pulling a slimline mobile phone out of her grey string bag, stabbing at the keys viciously.
"Thank you," Ianto said, mouth frozen in the smile. He used to push them off with mutters about his girlfriend who'd recently passed away. Today he couldn't bear the thought.
Blue Granny came over with a single brochure, leaving her sticky fingerprints behind on a dozen others. She sucked on her sweet as her friend scribbled down a number on a slip of paper.
It was at this point that the doorway darkened with bodies, the team returning from their mission. Tosh was first through the door. She took one look at Ianto before she pulled out a smile and said loudly, "Here we go! I'm sure they'll have maps."
The team did not perform Fake Tourists well. Owen didn't even bother. He just lounged against one wall, arms folded, waiting for the Grannies to depart so Ianto could open the door to the base. Gwen made for the brochure rack, mouth pouting when she saw the gooey fingerprints everywhere. Jack of course insinuated himself at the counter.
"Hello, ladies," he said with a broad grin. Ianto noticed the tell-tale glance as Jack ran them through his extensive mental black book and, thankfully for Ianto, came up empty. "What brings you here? Looking for a private tour of the Bay?"
"Nonsense," said Blue Granny, the first word she'd spoken since wandering inside with her friend.
"I was just telling this young man about my granddaughter."
Jack bent over and snogged Ianto hard. Normally they avoided public displays in front of the team. Owen's rolling eyes, Tosh's titter, and Gwen's inscrutable expression were why. Nevertheless, Ianto kissed him right back as Peach Granny sputtered into silence.
"Well then," she said when they broke apart. "You might of said." The two departed quickly. Jack burst into a laugh the second they were too far to hear.
"Open the bloody door," said Owen, then reached for the button himself.
Jack said, "How many granddaughters does that make this week?"
"Two. The other three were nieces." He nodded at Gwen and Tosh as they went through the door. "Coffee should be ready to pour."
"Thanks, pet," Gwen said. "Jack, coming down?"
"Not now."
She closed the door behind her, and it was a wall again. The first time he'd seen the trick, Ianto had thought it was amazing, a super-secret spy lair. Now he paid attention to the hinges and reminded himself to oil them.
"Two granddaughters and three nieces," Jack said, moving behind the counter and looming into Ianto's personal space. "Should I be jealous?"
"This one was named Enid."
"I like girls named Enid. They all have this shy librarian look, but they're into the kinkiest stuff."
Cousin Enid popped into the forefront of Ianto's mind again, complete with braces and plastic spectacles but this time she was dressed in that same outfit Jack had talked him into trying on last week. He shook his head hard to dispel the image.
"How was Penarth?"
"Holoprojector at a jumble sale. Hardly worth the trip." Jack's hand had snaked around Ianto neatly. He wasn't possessive. It was merely that every time he found out about another Granny attempting to match Ianto up with a granddaughter (or niece, and more than once a nephew because some of the Grannies were forward-thinking) Jack felt the need to remind Ianto of certain things.
Ianto settled his hip more firmly against Jack's side. He liked reminders.
"The door is off its hinges."
"Yeah," said Jack, grinning, and he glanced behind the counter, out of sight of the door and in a blind spot of the CCTV.
***
Twenty to thirty minutes later
***
Ianto's back was against the wall, cold seeping through his suit. Jack lay semi-sprawled in his arms, and thus Ianto didn't mind cooling off or the terrible state his suit would be in later. Dusty, wrinkled trousers were a small price to pay for this quiet moment, not snuggling, but relaxing with Jack in between disasters.
"We should fix that door," Jack said lethargically, his hair skewed and pricking Ianto's chin. "You do business here sometimes. We might get robbed."
"Nah. The teenagers filch maps all the time while I'm standing right there, but not when I leave the desk unattended. They think they're being watched on a hidden camera so they behave."
"They are being watched on a hidden camera."
"Not the point."
"I guess. Humans do tend to behave for the invisible threats much more than the present ones. Look at religion. You people will go to war, lie, cheat, steal, and shag yourselves silly, but convince you there's an invisible dad in the room telling you to stop, and...."
"....and we'll do the exact same things but feel guilty later."
"Exactly." Jack frowned. "Wait."
"Do we get past that by your time?"
"Guilt?"
"Guilt. Religion. Whatever." Ianto was always curious about Jack's home time, not to mention his home planet. Jack was infuriatingly silent on both.
"There's no guilt over sex."
"I figured that one out on my own." Ianto had known Jack's reputation long before they'd met. By 21st Century standards, the kindest word was "lothario." But Ianto had learned 51st Century standards were quite different, and Jack's extended lifespan matched with Jack's amazing libido indicated his past conquests had to number in the triple digits. "I couldn't begin to count how many people you've been with, without a care in the world."
Jack lay back more comfortably. "I wouldn't describe it that way. I cared if they had a good time. I cared if they were going to hate themselves in the morning. I've never slept with a married person unless all their spouses were okay with it." His eyes took on that particular look of fond memory. "Or joined in. That's always a blast. There was this one time...."
"Skip it."
"Fine," he said amiably. "The last time I counted, the number was at one thousand thirty-six."
Ianto stiffened. Not in the fun way. "You must be joking."
"Nope. I used to keep records. When I first found myself stranded in Cardiff, I'd had some memory problems. I made a list of everyone I did remember. Updated the list when I thought about it."
"You've had sex with one thousand thirty-six people?"
"One thousand thirty-six sentient consenting beings, that I can remember. And not all at once. Although that would be one for the records books. World's biggest orgy." His expression went dreamy again. Jack wasn't psychic, and the only documented occasion they had on record of his projecting his thoughts involved Toshiko and that alien pendant thing, but Ianto still saw very clearly in his mind's eye the giant football pitch filled with naked arses that was surely entertaining Jack's inner mental landscape right now: pale pink, deep brown, golden tans, several blues and greens and greys interspersed. There were probably robots, trees, and dogs in there, too. Birds. Bugs. Squids.
"Am I on that list?"
"Okay, one thousand and thirty-seven."
Another naked arse joined the happy fray. Ianto shook his head to clear it. "That's a lot of people to remember. I don't suppose you even got all their names."
"I tried to ask. Kind of hard to with a leather ball in my mouth."
The giant pile of naked people was evicted from Ianto's imagination and replaced with a far more pleasant picture: Jack kneeling with his arms bound behind him, gagged, a pretty leather cord around his throat, head bowed and sly eyes which winked coquettishly as he waited for instruction.
"Was that the only thing in your mouth?" He could hear the huskiness creeping into his own voice.
Jack matched his timbre, eyes already alight with the prospect of more sex. "Not remotely. So what about you? How many skeletons in your closet have you boned?"
He didn't have to count. "Ten. Including you."
That drew another frown, puckering Jack's forehead. "Really?"
"Yes, really."
"That's kind of...."
"I know it's not up in your numbers."
"....a lot."
Ianto blinked. "Did you not just tell me you've had sex with over a thousand people?"
"Yeah but I'm almost two hundred years old. You're twenty-six. You started dating Lisa when you were twenty-two." The old electrical shock moved through him at her name. "And you told me you lost your virginity when you were seventeen. That seems kinda fast for you."
"I thought you said there wasn't any guilt about sex in your time."
Ianto had gone through plenty of sex-related guilt: convincing his first girlfriend that blow jobs didn't count as sex so she could still call herself a virgin; shagging his mate's sister then breaking up with her a week later when he moved to London; the night he and his flat mate got pissed after his flat mate's girlfriend broke up with him, and they wound up wanking each other on the rug. After that night Barry wouldn't look him in the eye and started hunting for a new flat. Even his first few times with Jack made him squirm with regrets, but Jack was the black hole where guilt went in and never came back.
"I didn't say you ought to feel guilty. I said that seemed like a lot of people for you."
"Says the man who comes on to anything with a pulse. You've shagged half of Cardiff."
Jack opened his mouth to argue when the noise started. His spine snapped ruler-straight, coincidentally smacking his skull into Ianto's jaw, jamming Ianto's teeth together painfully. Jack scrambled up while Ianto rubbed his sore mouth. The noise grew, a kind of humming, grinding sound.
Ianto had spent hours rewatching the CCTV footage of Jack's mad dash across the Plass, accompanied by an unusual noise, and a blue police box Ianto identified all too easily. Orientation at Torchwood London included the ten points of identification for Torchwood's Enemy Number One. There'd been a quiz. Keen and fresh Torchwood employees learned to rattle off the points.
(Blue box, sonic screwdriver, two hearts, pretty young companion, tin dog, bad fashion sense, older than appearance, brilliantly dangerous, UNIT ally, Gallifrey.)
Older and less naïve employees could also list the points, mocking how hard it was to find a dotty old man who spent his free time with UNIT. The oldest employees would tell rumours over pints that the Doctor had already been captured and worked at another Torchwood branch for Queen and country. When Ianto had first researched Torchwood Cardiff, he'd diligently noted how many points Captain Harkness had, though he'd been confident back then Jack didn't have a heart at all, much less two.
Jack was already out through the broken door, and Ianto was still on his arse on the floor. He found his feet and pounded out the doorway after Jack. He was not letting his lover vanish into that damn TARDIS again without him.
His heels skidded on the pavement, catching up as Jack approached the TARDIS, which was parked directly over the lift. A blue door swung open. Three people emerged and proceeded to completely ignore the bouncy man in front of them.
"Fancy meeting you here," Jack said, out of breath and ludicrous in his lack of nonchalance.
"Doctor?" said the woman, red-haired and quite attractive.
"It's here," a youngish man said, squinting at the, yes, sonic screwdriver. He wore a bowtie and trousers pulled up like someone's granddad. Ianto declined the opportunity to test how many hearts he had.
"Where?" Her head darted back and forth, completely overlooking Jack.
He pointed. "That way!"
He dashed off away from the Bay, the redhead at his heels, the youngish man with them following behind. Ten paces away, the Doctor called back to a gape-mouthed Jack. "Are you coming?"
Jack told Ianto, "Get back to the Hub, tell the others," and he took off after them.
Ianto's first impulse was to join the pursuit. He was damned if he'd let Jack leave this way. But Jack wasn't getting into the TARDIS, wasn't transmatting off somewhere, and he'd just given Ianto an order.
Ianto took one look at the lift, which was currently inaccessible. "Fuck." He turned around and trotted back towards the TIC in a foul temper.
***
His announcement that Jack had once again fucked off somewhere with the Doctor was greeted with less dismay than he thought it warranted. Jack had already contacted them before Ianto had even made his way down to the Hub.
Gwen said, "The TARDIS is parked right over the lift. He's not going anywhere."
Tosh said, "His comm is on, and I'm tracking them via the CCTV. We can join him in minutes if he wants our help."
Owen said, "D'you think they'll start fucking out there in the street or wait until they get back?"
Owen was a prick, really.
"You'll keep us posted, right?" Ianto asked Tosh, who nodded.
"How's the door?" Gwen asked.
The door was not in better shape than it had been. By the time Ianto had returned, and possibly even whilst he and Jack had been occupied behind the desk, someone had spray-painted "Ozzer is a tozzer" on the broken door. "Broken and graffitied."
"Bunch of savages in this town," Owen said, ignoring the double death glares Ianto and Gwen sent him.
"Jack was going to help me fix it," Ianto said, mostly to himself as he headed towards the supply cupboard. "I'm not even supposed to be here today."
The girls made vaguely sympathetic if uninterested noises, turning back to their own work. "You're a beam of sunshine," Owen said.
"The front door is broken, and my boyfriend has shagged one thousand thirty-seven people."
Owen's face took on a cast of great respect. "Today?"
"No, not today."
"Oh." Owen shouted over to Tosh, "Did we ever set up a proper betting pool on that?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you kept asking Jack," she said, "and he kept telling bigger and bigger lies until you shut up."
Gwen said, "Are you sure they were lies? This is Jack we're talking about. Mind you, I'm not sure I believe the one about the alien spider."
Ianto did believe the one about the alien spider. Jack had filmed it on his wrist strap, along with plenty of other homemade pornography. Now that Ianto considered it, he must have seen glimpses of at minimum thirty or forty of Jack's previous lovers in the footage: men, women, intersexed humans, aliens with extra genders and oh God, the tentacles and feathers. Jack liked the ones with feathers. Ianto had watched the alien spider film in an equal admixture of curiosity and disbelieving horror. Mandibles shouldn't work that way.
Distracted by intrusive thoughts of alien sexual positions, he found the carpentry supplies he needed in the cupboard. Owen had wandered back to his own workstation and was unashamedly Googling for porn. Tosh was working. Gwen had her "thinking about what Jack was like in bed" face on again, which was Ianto's own fault. He'd given the others a few stories over several beers, back when Gwen had been in charge, back when Jack was missing. The team had pushed Ianto for details and he'd offered up Jack's atrocious bed manners on the sacrificial altar of both satisfying their curiosity and scoring points to soothe his own hurt at having been left behind. Whatever his reasons for telling, Ianto maintained that there were times a man should not fart, no matter how "relaxed" he claimed to be at the time. Jesus. The worst part was, Jack still thought it was funny.
Grumbling, Ianto went back up to see what he could do about the door.
***
The four of them came down the Quay, Jack and the Doctor talking very loudly, and the two of them drowned out at times by the redhead. Ianto put on his polite face. He would greet the Doctor and his companions formally, offer them refreshments and any services they required. Jack had run off without warning when the TARDIS had parked on the Plass a year or so ago, and the last time the Doctor had set foot in a Torchwood facility Ianto's entire world had come crashing down around his ears. However these were no reasons not to be completely, perfectly, icily polite to the man.
Then Ianto noticed the fifth figure with the group. It was clearly an alien: two extra arms and a face only its female parental figure (and possibly Jack) could love.
And behind them, coming up with the determined slow implacable ferocity displayed only by generals and old ladies at a jumble sale, came three Grannies hell-bent on reaching the TIC.
"Oh fuck," were the first words Ianto spoke to the Doctor that weren't through a subwave network. (Hadn't that been fun, trapped in the Hub with Owen, Tosh, Gwen, and a time-locked Dalek while Jack -- wait for it! -- fucked off with the Doctor?)
Jack glared. The redhead sparkled delightedly. The young man with them rolled his eyes. And the Doctor said, "One of yours, I take it?" This was to Jack, though the Doctor said the words too casually, with a practised air.
"Yeah. Apparently we need to go over the employee manual again. Ianto."
"Sorry," he said loudly, with his brightest underling smile. "We're closed. You'll have to come back after lunch." He ripped off his hand-printed sign while smiling past them to the approaching Grannies.
Jack caught on, finally, and turned around to see himself facing down a group whose combined ages surpassed even his. His eyes slid to the alien in their midst, whom, Ianto noted, wasn't restrained in any way. Not a threat, then, but hardly someone to bring to the front door. Even with the TARDIS parked on the lift, they had the car park entrance and Jack could bloody well pick that lock, gum and all.
"Hello, ladies," Jack said, in full charm mode. "We got here too late, gang," he said to the Doctor and his friends. "We'll have to catch that tour another time."
"We don't have time for a tour, Jack," the Doctor said. "As I explained, it's vital that we...."
"See how the city improvements have been going since our last holiday. I know, I know."
"They're quite spectacular," Ianto chimed in automatically. "Cardiff has grown since 2007."
"Oh, we missed it!" said the first Granny, who wore a pink shawl. "I told you we shouldn't have stopped."
"I needed the loo," said the Granny in lavender. "He won't let me use the loo in the Tourist Centre."
Jack turned on Ianto. "You won't let nice old ladies use your toilet? For shame."
"We don't have public toilets." Which was a very good policy, he considered. The hygiene of the Hub's toilets had improved dramatically with Owen's undead condition. (Gwen and Toshiko weren't slobs, and Jack knew better than to antagonise anyone whose teeth regularly came into close proximity with his dick.) Prior to Owen's death, the toilet up in the TIC was the only one Ianto felt he could reasonably ban the others from, which made it perfect as a hideaway or a quick spot for a shag.
The third Granny, who wore a stained white shawl, squinted up at the alien. "What's this, then?"
"This?" the Doctor said, flustered. "This is…."
"My cousin Olaf," said the redhead. "He's from Russia."
"He doesn't look Russian," said Lavender Granny.
Pink Granny began patting her pockets for paper and pencil, probably to give Olaf the telephone number of her niece Enid.
Jack said, "We should get Olaf inside. Come on, Olaf." He grabbed one of Olaf's many hands.
"You can't go inside," Pink Granny reminded him.
"Right." Jack mouthed the word 'garage' to Ianto and led the alien away. The Doctor and the other two stayed put. So did the Grannies.
"Come back at one," Ianto told the nearest Granny. She and her friends huffed away. As they moved out of sight, he heard one of them talking about finding another toilet.
Which left him alone with the Doctor and the Doctor's friends.
"Would you like to step inside?" He still had a chance at that icy politeness, though his cool was melting under the Doctor's lopsided smile. The alien, Torchwood's bane and Jack's private obsession, was currently watching Ianto as though he was the punchline to a joke only the Doctor knew. Fucker.
"Can't, I'm afraid. Lembo is helping you lot with one of your enquiries. We're still looking for our objective."
He mouthed, "Lembo?"
The redhead said, "Olaf."
Belatedly, he held out his hand to her. "Ianto Jones. It's a pleasure to meet you."
She blinked. "Yeah, I know who you are, Ianto." A moment later, light dawned in her eyes and she spun on the Doctor. "You did it again, didn't you? This is like with River."
"Did what?" Ianto asked. River? Did they need directions to the Taff?
"Sorry. Yes," said the Doctor. "Slightly out of order. Nothing to worry about."
"Amy Pond," said the redhead, shaking his hand with a smile as flirty as any Jack had ever given him. "Good to see you." She indicated the silent man beside her. "That's Rory," Amy said. "He's the light of my life, the strum to my strings, the Spencer to my Marks."
"All right, all right," said the Doctor. Amy grinned. Rory shook Ianto's hand but didn't say hello.
"Rory can't say anything right now," Amy said, a giggle in her voice. Rory glared at her, in an annoyed but patient fashion which Ianto was weirdly fascinated to recognise on someone else's face for once. "He's got the Boogey-Woogey Flu." The patient expression went more annoyed.
He turned to Ianto, waved at him to step back, and opened his mouth and snapped it shut quickly. Amy and the Doctor already had their hands flung over their ears but Ianto was subjected to a mercifully short high-pitched blast of noise that shouldn't have been possible from a human mouth. His ears kept ringing after Rory shut his mouth.
The Doctor said, "Don't do that."
Amy said, "A demonstration is worth a thousand words."
"It's all right," said Ianto. "Half of Mermaid Quay thinks we're selling drugs for the Mafia. They're used to weird."
The inner door opened, and Jack emerged out of breath. He must have run all the way. "Olaf's below with Tosh."
"Lembo," corrected the Doctor.
"I like 'Olaf.' It's got a ring to it."
The Doctor ignored him. "Amy, Rory, stay here. If our target appears, it'll probably come right to us. Stand outside, see if you see anything unusual." He glanced at Jack and Ianto. "Unusual for Torchwood. So, not unusual at all around here. Just keep your eyes open and keep out of corridors."
Amy gave him a mock salute. "Thank you for those very specific instructions." She grabbed Rory's arm and stationed him on one side of the broken door. "Speaking of instructions, while you're down there with Captain Hotpants," Jack brightened at this description, "see if he can't give you some advice."
The Doctor's brow furrowed. "Advice?"
"You know. Advice." Amy attempted to give a knowing look. Rory rubbed his face with his hands in an embarrassed gesture. "You and River are going backwards to each other. You've got a wedding night coming up soon. Get some advice on making it," she paused, grinning, "fun."
Jack's face contorted unusually, and he took a step back from the Doctor, his arms folding. "Wait. You're getting married?"
"Yes. Probably." The Doctor's fluster was apparent. "I mean, she wasn't entirely clear about the matter, and I'm certain she's lying on particular details. Also she was programmed to kill me and I think she's going to try again. But in the larger sense, yes. Yes, I'm getting married."
Jack's expression didn't change. "That's.... Huh."
Ianto said loudly, "I wonder how Tosh is getting on with Olaf."
"Olaf," said Jack. "Right." He held out his arm to gesture the Doctor inside, very specifically not touching him in any way. "So, married. What's she like?" No-one was fooled by his casual tone.
Ianto ignored the tight squirm in his own stomach as the pair went through the secret door. He gave Amy a falsely pleasant smile. "Back to work." He examined the outer door frame.
Amy ignored him and talked to her silent partner. "I've been thinking about River. Trying not to. You know how I get."
Rory nodded his head, a kind, sad expression on his face.
"And I've been thinking about all the time we spent with Mels."
Rory smiled.
"D'you remember that time when she stole the weed from those boys in seventh form? We all went to her place. Her foster parents were never home. Guess we should've thought more about that, huh?"
Another sad smile.
"I've been remembering the three of us sitting around, coughing our lungs out because we didn't know what we were doing. Remember that?"
A nod.
"It's just, we're her parents. We're supposed to be the ones telling her not to use drugs. We're the worst parents ever."
Her face was caught in a sad memory. Ianto didn't know where to begin. These two people, who both looked younger than he did, had a daughter who was old enough to steal drugs and smoke?
Rory went over to Amy and placed an arm around her. Then he did a quick pantomime. She translated: "'Mels wasn't a bad kid. We only smoked dope once, and we all got so sick we never picked it up again.' You're right. I still feel awful."
He shrugged, in the universal sign of, "Yes, but what can you do about it now?"
Ianto turned back to the door. Jack's friends were weird.
***
Half an hour later, Tosh and Gwen went on a quick visit to collect the DVD from Dawes.
"Jack's orders," Tosh said, collecting the business cards from Ianto's desk.
As she headed to the still-not-repaired door, Gwen said, "The Doctor apologised about the whole thing. Said poor Martha had to support them both because he kept getting fired."
"Who's Martha?" Amy asked.
Ianto shared a look with Tosh and Gwen. Pretty young companions came and went. Jack had known some of them, but the Doctor didn't keep them, he used them up and went looking for another.
"Friend of ours," said Gwen. "Used to travel with the Doctor. Maybe the two of you can have a chat later."
As they went out, Ianto opened the drawer of his desk. The day just got longer and longer, and he was dying for a fag. He'd been rationing this pack out, trying to quit and pretending to Jack that he already had. If he finished these, he wouldn't buy more. Because working for Torchwood definitely meant he had lung cancer to fear later on in life.
A family came into the Tourist Centre, and Ianto placed as professional a smile as he could muster over his face. Yes, they had maps of the city centre. Yes, he could recommend a nearby pub for a traditional meal. Yes, he could ignore the mum's not remotely quiet asides to her husband that Ianto was likely in cahoots with the locals to send business their way and get a good cut from the deal. The older child, a boy, kept touching all the displays, leaving fingerprints Ianto could see from a distance. The younger child, a girl, stood butted right next to the desk, staring up at him and grinning the entire time.
"You got a potty?" she asked brightly.
"Sorry," he replied with what he incorrectly believed to be an appropriately jolly tone for children. "Not open for the public. There's a Tesco Express not far from here and you can ask them."
The mum took a copy of every map and flier Ianto had, even the exceptionally out-of-date ones, without a thank you and with continued shushing of her elder offspring, who was currently redecorating the side of the desk with handprints.
When they finally left, Ianto grabbed for his cigarettes, only to discover they'd vanished. Not on the desk, not on the floor, not back in the drawer, not in a pocket. He considered asking Amy if she had any, but nixed that plan. Quitting. Right.
A few minutes later, Owen tromped up from the Hub and proceeded to take over Ianto's computer space.
"What are you researching?"
"Children's programming." Loud moans from a porno star's faked orgasm emanated from the speakers.
"If you want to remind yourself that you can't get an erection, please do so on your own computer."
"Yours has a better graphics card. Do you reckon if I blew Jack, he'd requisition me a new one?"
Ianto counted to ten slowly in his head, because rising to Owen's bait had never once worked in his favour. "I'm the one who puts in all the requisitions. I would buy you a new one if you promise never, ever to blow me."
"It's a deal."
"Turn that off."
"This is the good part. Look, you can see her kidneys."
"There is a woman right outside the door." Which was a lie, as Amy picked that moment to walk in, a bright smile on her face. Ianto felt the blush burn up his neck as the moans continued.
"What're you watching, boys?" she asked mirthfully.
"Happy Scrappy Hero Pup," said Owen, as she swung herself around the desk to see.
"I've done that," Amy said, standing with a critical tilt to her head. "It hurts your knees if you're in that position too long. Rory! Come see this!"
Rory came into the office, eyebrows raising at the sounds. Ianto wanted to drop through the floor, but Owen just rested his arms behind his head. Amy pointed at the screen. "Remember when we tried that one?"
Rory nodded, and covered his face with one hand. Amy went on, "Okay, now that we haven't tried yet. Get a good look. Maybe after, we can go back to the TARDIS and...." He grabbed her hand, and walked her out of the Tourist Office back to their stances outside, where Ianto could just hear her continue to describe acrobatic sexual positions she'd like to try. One involved a circus seal.
With Owen up here, Ianto could easily slip down to the Hub to see what Jack was doing all alone with the Doctor. Not that he worried.
As he entered through the cog wheel door, he saw the Doctor sitting at Toshiko's computer terminal, Jack leaning over him to point out something on the screen. But Ianto had sat in that chair, or chairs just like it, and Jack had leaned against him from behind in precisely this fashion, Jack's warmth and his unique cinnamon-amber-musk going full-blast. More times than he could count, this alone had been enough for Ianto to lose his reason (and shortly thereafter, his trousers).
He cleared his throat.
Jack glanced up. Was he startled? Disappointed? "Ianto Jones, just the man I wanted to see."
I'm sure, Ianto thought, making his way to the workstation and stepping close enough that Jack had to move away from the Doctor's chair or be trod on. His expression read confused and mildly hurt, but Ianto wasn't buying it.
"What do you need?"
Jack's arm moved past him to the screen. "We're still tracking the alien, but this just popped up."
A newspaper article with a photo was on the screen. The Doctor said, "Poor girl died yesterday in a swimming pool accident."
Ianto felt it was not in his best interests to say "So?" and definitely not to say "This is Cardiff, people die all the time from incredibly stupid things usually related to annoying aliens." What would Gwen say? Oh yes. "That's terrible. What happened?"
"We think she drowned because of this," Jack said, pointing at her photograph. The teenaged girl, identified as one Julie Dwyer of Roath, wore a carved gemstone ring on the hand holding her chin.
"Holdenbanky crystals," said the Doctor. "Nasty things. Completely harmless for years, until they come into contact with hypochlorite ions, and then…."
Jack made a sound like a scratch. "Anyway, the body is being viewed today. You and Owen can go to the viewing, pay your respects, and get the ring. We'll keep working on the Doctor's issue here."
"Isn't it more your purview to desecrate and molest dead bodies?"
Jack shook his head. "I really think Owen's the expert on molesting dead bodies, and you do handle all the corpses who aren't walking around on their own two feet. Hurry up, the viewing starts in twenty minutes."
"Fine." Ianto stalked away. His clothing wasn't appropriate, but he kept a black suit with a plain white shirt in Jack's bunker for emergency clothing changes and unexpected sleepovers. He made one last play. "Help me change?"
"Not right now."
"Not even supposed to be here today," Ianto muttered, and went to Jack's office alone.
***
Part Two
Author: nancybrown
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Owen, Eleven, Amy, Rory, Tosh, Gwen
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Amy/Rory, implied Eleven/River, past Jack/Doctor, past Ianto/Lisa
Words: 14,200 (this part 7,200)
Rating: R
Summary: Working for Torchwood Cardiff means dealing every day with aliens, time travellers, annoying co-workers, and worst of all, tourists. A day in the life of someone who'd rather be somewhere else.
Warnings: language, character death, necrophilia, dub-con, excessive whining, incredibly offensive humour. To paraphrase another warning, this is a terrible story and should not be read by anyone.
Beta: fide_et_spe did an emergency beta on this and I say THANK YOU!
Spoilers: TW: goes AU from canon after "Adrift," DW: up through "Let's Kill Hitler"
AN: Written for reel_torchwood for the prompt: "Clerks"
PDF: Available at AO3.
***
Cardiff, Wales, United Kingdom
6:13AM
***
The noise broke into the middle of Ianto's dream: a raucous buzzing and tweeting, like the repetitious caw of a thousand angry ... somethings. Birds? The dream morphed into terror -- giant, slouching, with skeletal black wings and razor-like beak -- then scattered to rags as he opened his eyes.
The noise continued.
Everything was dark. Ianto thrashed his limbs, did not encounter another body but did manage to unwind the blanket he'd wrapped around himself twice as he half-rolled, half-fell onto the floor. As he became more alert, he saw that he was nowhere near his bed but in fact had slept naked in the wardrobe.
His mobile kept ringing. He stumbled to where he'd dropped it on the night stand, flipped it open, and said in a sleep-roughened voice, "Yeah?"
"I woke you up."
Ianto rubbed a hand over his face. Events from the previous night made their presence known in his memory, pickled with a bit too much whisky and aged about three hours. "Did you catch the Weevil, then?" When the call came, Jack had kissed him stupid and told him to stay put. As Ianto had just experienced a fantastic orgasm, backed up against the wall of his wardrobe and buffered by shirts and suit coats, he hadn't been in the mood to argue.
"Yeah. Piece of cake. I didn't want to wake you, so I came back here."
"Thanks."
"I need you to get dressed and head in." Jack's tone was apologetic, but Ianto heard the distinct sound of his lover sliding back into boss mode. Jack may have sucked Ianto's brains out through points south last night, but this morning, he was all work.
Work. "Today's my day off."
"I know."
"It's my first day off in four weeks." Four weeks which had included one of his co-workers taking an impromptu weekend to Spain with her new husband, but there was no point begrudging them. Gwen often spent weeks barely seeing Rhys. Ianto saw his own whatever-the-fuck-they-were-not-calling-it for sixteen to twenty hours out of every day.
"I know. I'm sorry. But there have been some weird sightings in Penarth, and the rest of us are going to go check them out. I want you on standby here in case we need backup support." The apology was in the order: Jack could have easily made Ianto go to the site with them, but instead would allow him to nurse his hangover in the quiet dark of the Hub. "It's just for a few hours."
"All right." He rubbed his face again. "Let me shower first and I'll be in."
"If you hold the shower, we can shower together here when I get back from Penarth." Boss Jack had swung pendulum-like back to can-I-just-call-him-my-boyfriend-already Jack, with the accompanying giddy, goofy glee.
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
***
The front door to the TIC hung askew from the frame. Ianto's steps slowed as he neared the wreckage, mouth forming into a vague imitation of "What the fuck?" over and over.
"Sorry," Jack said, appearing in the doorway, half-hidden by the splintered door.
"What happened?" Ianto tried walking at it from another angle. Still broken.
"Short story? We had to get inside fast."
"You had a key!"
"Dropped it," said Owen, walking out and looking entirely unapologetic. "Anyway, bit of paint, no-one will notice."
"The door is off!" The hinges were wrenched out of the wood. This wasn't a bit of paint, or even a simple rehanging. Ianto was staring carpentry in the face. Christ.
"Yeah," said Jack. "About that. I'll help you fix it when we get back, but right now, you need to keep an eye out from up here."
The headache from the hangover grew exponentially at the thought of sitting in the Tourist Office all morning. But it wouldn't do to leave the entrance to their top-secret base open to the public.
"I'll board it up."
Gwen said, "We need this entrance. Someone jammed gum in the lock from the car park entrance." Jack of course was the only one who could operate the lift from outside.
Ianto nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth lest expletives pour out.
Jack's wrist beeped. "Gotta go." He really was contrite: he actually kissed Ianto on the cheek before dashing out behind Toshiko and Gwen, with Owen close on his heels.
"Fuck."
All right. Fine. The Tourist Office was technically a business, if one that suffered under an even more Byzantine arrangement for funding than the organisation it disguised. He went inside, found a large piece of clean paper, and wrote: "I assure you, we are open."
A cat, mostly black but for one paw, strolled through the open doorway, leapt up onto the counter, and established this as her spot. Ianto tried twice to shove her off, but Pusska would not be moved.
"It'd serve you right to be eaten by the next alien who walks in." He was replied to with a soft purr, and a demonstration of flexibility that exceeded even 51st century physiology. "Show off."
Ianto taped the sign to the wall outside the door, and then went to make the first pot of coffee before he tackled removing the damn door.
***
The call came at eight o'clock sharp, routed via the dummy numbers Toshiko had set up and to the phone at the tourist desk. The Caller ID read: Francis Dawes.
"Good morning," Ianto said as smoothly as he could, caffeine having knocked off the worst edges of his headache. "Cardiff Imports."
"Good morning, Mr. Randolph." Dawes had a tidy voice, as clipped as a manicured lawn. "I have something you might find of interest."
"Mr. Dawes, how nice to hear from you." Ianto pulled out his notepad. "What did you find?"
"I don't like to say over the telephone. People listening in."
A quick glance confirmed the system recording the call was operating normally. "Of course. Can you give me a hint?"
Dawes coughed. "'The angels have the phone box.'"
"I see. We'll be by later today."
"Thank you, Mr. Randolph."
"Thank you for contacting us."
Ianto sighed as he set the handset down. Honestly, if he had his way, Torchwood's front would be an antiques store, masking their regular searches and seizures of alien property with a legitimate business. Instead, he and Tosh (mostly Tosh) had set up a handful of false businesses: imports, collectables, memorabilia. They had websites, business cards, and quietly unassailable false identities through which to acquire alien artefacts sitting in the mildewed basements and dusty collections of the unwitting.
"Mr. Randolph" dealt in rare collectibles and odd items, as did Dawes. Sometimes Dawes had a dismantled shield generator, sometimes (like today) he had another DVD he'd stumbled upon, unaware that these were mass-produced with the same odd message from the Doctor. The production of the DVDs, seventeen titles in all, had ceased, and Martha (who was also in the message) said the event it referenced had occurred. This did not stop Jack from confiscating the DVDs as they came in, taking them into his office, and using them as wanking material. (Knowing this, Ianto had purchased a pair of reading glasses identical to those worn by the Doctor in the Easter egg, and he got shagged within an inch of his life whenever he wore them.)
The DVDs could wait.
***
For a dinky out of the way office tucked back on Mermaid Quay, the TIC did a brisk business when it was open. Ianto tried to arrange his life so that this happened as little as possible, refusing to post hours he wouldn't keep anyway, locking the door at random, and providing intentionally out of date maps and dog-eared guidebooks to the poor souls who did wander in. He wasn't a total arse. Torchwood's favourite delivery drivers thought he must be hypoglycaemic for all the food he ordered, and he tipped them enough to keep them prompt and pleasant. When the other local establishments sent emissaries, often seeking extra maps or directions for weekend trips, he made sure to Google the best routes for them.
The Grannies were another thing entirely.
They always came in pairs or gaggles, never singly. The Gaggle Grannies tended to wear red hats and call each another "the girls." The longer they stayed in the Centre asking about local attractions, the higher the likelihood that one of them would cackle some joke that would make even Jack blush. The Paired Grannies were older than the Gaggles, as a rule, six teeth between them and smelling of cats and mothballs, always in colour-coordinated shawls. These Grannies tended towards the doddering, asking about parts of Cardiff that had been bulldozed for renovation years ago. The longer they stayed in the Centre, the higher the likelihood one would point out Ianto's lack of a wedding ring and mention a granddaughter or a niece.
Grannies of either variety were far better than the Welshaboos, which also came in two varieties: English and American. English Welshaboos were always in uni, always wore casually frumpy clothes that cost more than Ianto's entire teenage wardrobe had, and always had some ancestor, respectably far back, who was Welsh. They all wanted to "see the homeland" and expected Ianto to give them the secret insider's tour guide or some shit. American Welshaboos were distinguishable from English ones because the Americans spoke a small amount of Welsh badly, had a Welsh ancestor even farther back, and wanted to take pictures of Ianto. Sometimes they asked where the Millennium Centre was.
Jack said Ianto wasn't allowed to shoot them unless he was pretty sure they were aliens.
"My granddaughter Enid is about your age," said the peach-shawled Granny at the counter, as her blue-shawled associate fingered stickily through the brochures in the rack, gnawing open-mouthed at a sweet.
Ianto had a cousin Enid, on his dad's side. He hadn't seen her since the funeral, and not for five years before that. In his memory, she was forever a dark-haired teenager with spots and braces, perpetually embarrassed by both. He smiled politely at the Granny.
"I have her telephone number, let me give it to you," said the Granny, pulling a slimline mobile phone out of her grey string bag, stabbing at the keys viciously.
"Thank you," Ianto said, mouth frozen in the smile. He used to push them off with mutters about his girlfriend who'd recently passed away. Today he couldn't bear the thought.
Blue Granny came over with a single brochure, leaving her sticky fingerprints behind on a dozen others. She sucked on her sweet as her friend scribbled down a number on a slip of paper.
It was at this point that the doorway darkened with bodies, the team returning from their mission. Tosh was first through the door. She took one look at Ianto before she pulled out a smile and said loudly, "Here we go! I'm sure they'll have maps."
The team did not perform Fake Tourists well. Owen didn't even bother. He just lounged against one wall, arms folded, waiting for the Grannies to depart so Ianto could open the door to the base. Gwen made for the brochure rack, mouth pouting when she saw the gooey fingerprints everywhere. Jack of course insinuated himself at the counter.
"Hello, ladies," he said with a broad grin. Ianto noticed the tell-tale glance as Jack ran them through his extensive mental black book and, thankfully for Ianto, came up empty. "What brings you here? Looking for a private tour of the Bay?"
"Nonsense," said Blue Granny, the first word she'd spoken since wandering inside with her friend.
"I was just telling this young man about my granddaughter."
Jack bent over and snogged Ianto hard. Normally they avoided public displays in front of the team. Owen's rolling eyes, Tosh's titter, and Gwen's inscrutable expression were why. Nevertheless, Ianto kissed him right back as Peach Granny sputtered into silence.
"Well then," she said when they broke apart. "You might of said." The two departed quickly. Jack burst into a laugh the second they were too far to hear.
"Open the bloody door," said Owen, then reached for the button himself.
Jack said, "How many granddaughters does that make this week?"
"Two. The other three were nieces." He nodded at Gwen and Tosh as they went through the door. "Coffee should be ready to pour."
"Thanks, pet," Gwen said. "Jack, coming down?"
"Not now."
She closed the door behind her, and it was a wall again. The first time he'd seen the trick, Ianto had thought it was amazing, a super-secret spy lair. Now he paid attention to the hinges and reminded himself to oil them.
"Two granddaughters and three nieces," Jack said, moving behind the counter and looming into Ianto's personal space. "Should I be jealous?"
"This one was named Enid."
"I like girls named Enid. They all have this shy librarian look, but they're into the kinkiest stuff."
Cousin Enid popped into the forefront of Ianto's mind again, complete with braces and plastic spectacles but this time she was dressed in that same outfit Jack had talked him into trying on last week. He shook his head hard to dispel the image.
"How was Penarth?"
"Holoprojector at a jumble sale. Hardly worth the trip." Jack's hand had snaked around Ianto neatly. He wasn't possessive. It was merely that every time he found out about another Granny attempting to match Ianto up with a granddaughter (or niece, and more than once a nephew because some of the Grannies were forward-thinking) Jack felt the need to remind Ianto of certain things.
Ianto settled his hip more firmly against Jack's side. He liked reminders.
"The door is off its hinges."
"Yeah," said Jack, grinning, and he glanced behind the counter, out of sight of the door and in a blind spot of the CCTV.
***
Twenty to thirty minutes later
***
Ianto's back was against the wall, cold seeping through his suit. Jack lay semi-sprawled in his arms, and thus Ianto didn't mind cooling off or the terrible state his suit would be in later. Dusty, wrinkled trousers were a small price to pay for this quiet moment, not snuggling, but relaxing with Jack in between disasters.
"We should fix that door," Jack said lethargically, his hair skewed and pricking Ianto's chin. "You do business here sometimes. We might get robbed."
"Nah. The teenagers filch maps all the time while I'm standing right there, but not when I leave the desk unattended. They think they're being watched on a hidden camera so they behave."
"They are being watched on a hidden camera."
"Not the point."
"I guess. Humans do tend to behave for the invisible threats much more than the present ones. Look at religion. You people will go to war, lie, cheat, steal, and shag yourselves silly, but convince you there's an invisible dad in the room telling you to stop, and...."
"....and we'll do the exact same things but feel guilty later."
"Exactly." Jack frowned. "Wait."
"Do we get past that by your time?"
"Guilt?"
"Guilt. Religion. Whatever." Ianto was always curious about Jack's home time, not to mention his home planet. Jack was infuriatingly silent on both.
"There's no guilt over sex."
"I figured that one out on my own." Ianto had known Jack's reputation long before they'd met. By 21st Century standards, the kindest word was "lothario." But Ianto had learned 51st Century standards were quite different, and Jack's extended lifespan matched with Jack's amazing libido indicated his past conquests had to number in the triple digits. "I couldn't begin to count how many people you've been with, without a care in the world."
Jack lay back more comfortably. "I wouldn't describe it that way. I cared if they had a good time. I cared if they were going to hate themselves in the morning. I've never slept with a married person unless all their spouses were okay with it." His eyes took on that particular look of fond memory. "Or joined in. That's always a blast. There was this one time...."
"Skip it."
"Fine," he said amiably. "The last time I counted, the number was at one thousand thirty-six."
Ianto stiffened. Not in the fun way. "You must be joking."
"Nope. I used to keep records. When I first found myself stranded in Cardiff, I'd had some memory problems. I made a list of everyone I did remember. Updated the list when I thought about it."
"You've had sex with one thousand thirty-six people?"
"One thousand thirty-six sentient consenting beings, that I can remember. And not all at once. Although that would be one for the records books. World's biggest orgy." His expression went dreamy again. Jack wasn't psychic, and the only documented occasion they had on record of his projecting his thoughts involved Toshiko and that alien pendant thing, but Ianto still saw very clearly in his mind's eye the giant football pitch filled with naked arses that was surely entertaining Jack's inner mental landscape right now: pale pink, deep brown, golden tans, several blues and greens and greys interspersed. There were probably robots, trees, and dogs in there, too. Birds. Bugs. Squids.
"Am I on that list?"
"Okay, one thousand and thirty-seven."
Another naked arse joined the happy fray. Ianto shook his head to clear it. "That's a lot of people to remember. I don't suppose you even got all their names."
"I tried to ask. Kind of hard to with a leather ball in my mouth."
The giant pile of naked people was evicted from Ianto's imagination and replaced with a far more pleasant picture: Jack kneeling with his arms bound behind him, gagged, a pretty leather cord around his throat, head bowed and sly eyes which winked coquettishly as he waited for instruction.
"Was that the only thing in your mouth?" He could hear the huskiness creeping into his own voice.
Jack matched his timbre, eyes already alight with the prospect of more sex. "Not remotely. So what about you? How many skeletons in your closet have you boned?"
He didn't have to count. "Ten. Including you."
That drew another frown, puckering Jack's forehead. "Really?"
"Yes, really."
"That's kind of...."
"I know it's not up in your numbers."
"....a lot."
Ianto blinked. "Did you not just tell me you've had sex with over a thousand people?"
"Yeah but I'm almost two hundred years old. You're twenty-six. You started dating Lisa when you were twenty-two." The old electrical shock moved through him at her name. "And you told me you lost your virginity when you were seventeen. That seems kinda fast for you."
"I thought you said there wasn't any guilt about sex in your time."
Ianto had gone through plenty of sex-related guilt: convincing his first girlfriend that blow jobs didn't count as sex so she could still call herself a virgin; shagging his mate's sister then breaking up with her a week later when he moved to London; the night he and his flat mate got pissed after his flat mate's girlfriend broke up with him, and they wound up wanking each other on the rug. After that night Barry wouldn't look him in the eye and started hunting for a new flat. Even his first few times with Jack made him squirm with regrets, but Jack was the black hole where guilt went in and never came back.
"I didn't say you ought to feel guilty. I said that seemed like a lot of people for you."
"Says the man who comes on to anything with a pulse. You've shagged half of Cardiff."
Jack opened his mouth to argue when the noise started. His spine snapped ruler-straight, coincidentally smacking his skull into Ianto's jaw, jamming Ianto's teeth together painfully. Jack scrambled up while Ianto rubbed his sore mouth. The noise grew, a kind of humming, grinding sound.
Ianto had spent hours rewatching the CCTV footage of Jack's mad dash across the Plass, accompanied by an unusual noise, and a blue police box Ianto identified all too easily. Orientation at Torchwood London included the ten points of identification for Torchwood's Enemy Number One. There'd been a quiz. Keen and fresh Torchwood employees learned to rattle off the points.
(Blue box, sonic screwdriver, two hearts, pretty young companion, tin dog, bad fashion sense, older than appearance, brilliantly dangerous, UNIT ally, Gallifrey.)
Older and less naïve employees could also list the points, mocking how hard it was to find a dotty old man who spent his free time with UNIT. The oldest employees would tell rumours over pints that the Doctor had already been captured and worked at another Torchwood branch for Queen and country. When Ianto had first researched Torchwood Cardiff, he'd diligently noted how many points Captain Harkness had, though he'd been confident back then Jack didn't have a heart at all, much less two.
Jack was already out through the broken door, and Ianto was still on his arse on the floor. He found his feet and pounded out the doorway after Jack. He was not letting his lover vanish into that damn TARDIS again without him.
His heels skidded on the pavement, catching up as Jack approached the TARDIS, which was parked directly over the lift. A blue door swung open. Three people emerged and proceeded to completely ignore the bouncy man in front of them.
"Fancy meeting you here," Jack said, out of breath and ludicrous in his lack of nonchalance.
"Doctor?" said the woman, red-haired and quite attractive.
"It's here," a youngish man said, squinting at the, yes, sonic screwdriver. He wore a bowtie and trousers pulled up like someone's granddad. Ianto declined the opportunity to test how many hearts he had.
"Where?" Her head darted back and forth, completely overlooking Jack.
He pointed. "That way!"
He dashed off away from the Bay, the redhead at his heels, the youngish man with them following behind. Ten paces away, the Doctor called back to a gape-mouthed Jack. "Are you coming?"
Jack told Ianto, "Get back to the Hub, tell the others," and he took off after them.
Ianto's first impulse was to join the pursuit. He was damned if he'd let Jack leave this way. But Jack wasn't getting into the TARDIS, wasn't transmatting off somewhere, and he'd just given Ianto an order.
Ianto took one look at the lift, which was currently inaccessible. "Fuck." He turned around and trotted back towards the TIC in a foul temper.
***
His announcement that Jack had once again fucked off somewhere with the Doctor was greeted with less dismay than he thought it warranted. Jack had already contacted them before Ianto had even made his way down to the Hub.
Gwen said, "The TARDIS is parked right over the lift. He's not going anywhere."
Tosh said, "His comm is on, and I'm tracking them via the CCTV. We can join him in minutes if he wants our help."
Owen said, "D'you think they'll start fucking out there in the street or wait until they get back?"
Owen was a prick, really.
"You'll keep us posted, right?" Ianto asked Tosh, who nodded.
"How's the door?" Gwen asked.
The door was not in better shape than it had been. By the time Ianto had returned, and possibly even whilst he and Jack had been occupied behind the desk, someone had spray-painted "Ozzer is a tozzer" on the broken door. "Broken and graffitied."
"Bunch of savages in this town," Owen said, ignoring the double death glares Ianto and Gwen sent him.
"Jack was going to help me fix it," Ianto said, mostly to himself as he headed towards the supply cupboard. "I'm not even supposed to be here today."
The girls made vaguely sympathetic if uninterested noises, turning back to their own work. "You're a beam of sunshine," Owen said.
"The front door is broken, and my boyfriend has shagged one thousand thirty-seven people."
Owen's face took on a cast of great respect. "Today?"
"No, not today."
"Oh." Owen shouted over to Tosh, "Did we ever set up a proper betting pool on that?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you kept asking Jack," she said, "and he kept telling bigger and bigger lies until you shut up."
Gwen said, "Are you sure they were lies? This is Jack we're talking about. Mind you, I'm not sure I believe the one about the alien spider."
Ianto did believe the one about the alien spider. Jack had filmed it on his wrist strap, along with plenty of other homemade pornography. Now that Ianto considered it, he must have seen glimpses of at minimum thirty or forty of Jack's previous lovers in the footage: men, women, intersexed humans, aliens with extra genders and oh God, the tentacles and feathers. Jack liked the ones with feathers. Ianto had watched the alien spider film in an equal admixture of curiosity and disbelieving horror. Mandibles shouldn't work that way.
Distracted by intrusive thoughts of alien sexual positions, he found the carpentry supplies he needed in the cupboard. Owen had wandered back to his own workstation and was unashamedly Googling for porn. Tosh was working. Gwen had her "thinking about what Jack was like in bed" face on again, which was Ianto's own fault. He'd given the others a few stories over several beers, back when Gwen had been in charge, back when Jack was missing. The team had pushed Ianto for details and he'd offered up Jack's atrocious bed manners on the sacrificial altar of both satisfying their curiosity and scoring points to soothe his own hurt at having been left behind. Whatever his reasons for telling, Ianto maintained that there were times a man should not fart, no matter how "relaxed" he claimed to be at the time. Jesus. The worst part was, Jack still thought it was funny.
Grumbling, Ianto went back up to see what he could do about the door.
***
The four of them came down the Quay, Jack and the Doctor talking very loudly, and the two of them drowned out at times by the redhead. Ianto put on his polite face. He would greet the Doctor and his companions formally, offer them refreshments and any services they required. Jack had run off without warning when the TARDIS had parked on the Plass a year or so ago, and the last time the Doctor had set foot in a Torchwood facility Ianto's entire world had come crashing down around his ears. However these were no reasons not to be completely, perfectly, icily polite to the man.
Then Ianto noticed the fifth figure with the group. It was clearly an alien: two extra arms and a face only its female parental figure (and possibly Jack) could love.
And behind them, coming up with the determined slow implacable ferocity displayed only by generals and old ladies at a jumble sale, came three Grannies hell-bent on reaching the TIC.
"Oh fuck," were the first words Ianto spoke to the Doctor that weren't through a subwave network. (Hadn't that been fun, trapped in the Hub with Owen, Tosh, Gwen, and a time-locked Dalek while Jack -- wait for it! -- fucked off with the Doctor?)
Jack glared. The redhead sparkled delightedly. The young man with them rolled his eyes. And the Doctor said, "One of yours, I take it?" This was to Jack, though the Doctor said the words too casually, with a practised air.
"Yeah. Apparently we need to go over the employee manual again. Ianto."
"Sorry," he said loudly, with his brightest underling smile. "We're closed. You'll have to come back after lunch." He ripped off his hand-printed sign while smiling past them to the approaching Grannies.
Jack caught on, finally, and turned around to see himself facing down a group whose combined ages surpassed even his. His eyes slid to the alien in their midst, whom, Ianto noted, wasn't restrained in any way. Not a threat, then, but hardly someone to bring to the front door. Even with the TARDIS parked on the lift, they had the car park entrance and Jack could bloody well pick that lock, gum and all.
"Hello, ladies," Jack said, in full charm mode. "We got here too late, gang," he said to the Doctor and his friends. "We'll have to catch that tour another time."
"We don't have time for a tour, Jack," the Doctor said. "As I explained, it's vital that we...."
"See how the city improvements have been going since our last holiday. I know, I know."
"They're quite spectacular," Ianto chimed in automatically. "Cardiff has grown since 2007."
"Oh, we missed it!" said the first Granny, who wore a pink shawl. "I told you we shouldn't have stopped."
"I needed the loo," said the Granny in lavender. "He won't let me use the loo in the Tourist Centre."
Jack turned on Ianto. "You won't let nice old ladies use your toilet? For shame."
"We don't have public toilets." Which was a very good policy, he considered. The hygiene of the Hub's toilets had improved dramatically with Owen's undead condition. (Gwen and Toshiko weren't slobs, and Jack knew better than to antagonise anyone whose teeth regularly came into close proximity with his dick.) Prior to Owen's death, the toilet up in the TIC was the only one Ianto felt he could reasonably ban the others from, which made it perfect as a hideaway or a quick spot for a shag.
The third Granny, who wore a stained white shawl, squinted up at the alien. "What's this, then?"
"This?" the Doctor said, flustered. "This is…."
"My cousin Olaf," said the redhead. "He's from Russia."
"He doesn't look Russian," said Lavender Granny.
Pink Granny began patting her pockets for paper and pencil, probably to give Olaf the telephone number of her niece Enid.
Jack said, "We should get Olaf inside. Come on, Olaf." He grabbed one of Olaf's many hands.
"You can't go inside," Pink Granny reminded him.
"Right." Jack mouthed the word 'garage' to Ianto and led the alien away. The Doctor and the other two stayed put. So did the Grannies.
"Come back at one," Ianto told the nearest Granny. She and her friends huffed away. As they moved out of sight, he heard one of them talking about finding another toilet.
Which left him alone with the Doctor and the Doctor's friends.
"Would you like to step inside?" He still had a chance at that icy politeness, though his cool was melting under the Doctor's lopsided smile. The alien, Torchwood's bane and Jack's private obsession, was currently watching Ianto as though he was the punchline to a joke only the Doctor knew. Fucker.
"Can't, I'm afraid. Lembo is helping you lot with one of your enquiries. We're still looking for our objective."
He mouthed, "Lembo?"
The redhead said, "Olaf."
Belatedly, he held out his hand to her. "Ianto Jones. It's a pleasure to meet you."
She blinked. "Yeah, I know who you are, Ianto." A moment later, light dawned in her eyes and she spun on the Doctor. "You did it again, didn't you? This is like with River."
"Did what?" Ianto asked. River? Did they need directions to the Taff?
"Sorry. Yes," said the Doctor. "Slightly out of order. Nothing to worry about."
"Amy Pond," said the redhead, shaking his hand with a smile as flirty as any Jack had ever given him. "Good to see you." She indicated the silent man beside her. "That's Rory," Amy said. "He's the light of my life, the strum to my strings, the Spencer to my Marks."
"All right, all right," said the Doctor. Amy grinned. Rory shook Ianto's hand but didn't say hello.
"Rory can't say anything right now," Amy said, a giggle in her voice. Rory glared at her, in an annoyed but patient fashion which Ianto was weirdly fascinated to recognise on someone else's face for once. "He's got the Boogey-Woogey Flu." The patient expression went more annoyed.
He turned to Ianto, waved at him to step back, and opened his mouth and snapped it shut quickly. Amy and the Doctor already had their hands flung over their ears but Ianto was subjected to a mercifully short high-pitched blast of noise that shouldn't have been possible from a human mouth. His ears kept ringing after Rory shut his mouth.
The Doctor said, "Don't do that."
Amy said, "A demonstration is worth a thousand words."
"It's all right," said Ianto. "Half of Mermaid Quay thinks we're selling drugs for the Mafia. They're used to weird."
The inner door opened, and Jack emerged out of breath. He must have run all the way. "Olaf's below with Tosh."
"Lembo," corrected the Doctor.
"I like 'Olaf.' It's got a ring to it."
The Doctor ignored him. "Amy, Rory, stay here. If our target appears, it'll probably come right to us. Stand outside, see if you see anything unusual." He glanced at Jack and Ianto. "Unusual for Torchwood. So, not unusual at all around here. Just keep your eyes open and keep out of corridors."
Amy gave him a mock salute. "Thank you for those very specific instructions." She grabbed Rory's arm and stationed him on one side of the broken door. "Speaking of instructions, while you're down there with Captain Hotpants," Jack brightened at this description, "see if he can't give you some advice."
The Doctor's brow furrowed. "Advice?"
"You know. Advice." Amy attempted to give a knowing look. Rory rubbed his face with his hands in an embarrassed gesture. "You and River are going backwards to each other. You've got a wedding night coming up soon. Get some advice on making it," she paused, grinning, "fun."
Jack's face contorted unusually, and he took a step back from the Doctor, his arms folding. "Wait. You're getting married?"
"Yes. Probably." The Doctor's fluster was apparent. "I mean, she wasn't entirely clear about the matter, and I'm certain she's lying on particular details. Also she was programmed to kill me and I think she's going to try again. But in the larger sense, yes. Yes, I'm getting married."
Jack's expression didn't change. "That's.... Huh."
Ianto said loudly, "I wonder how Tosh is getting on with Olaf."
"Olaf," said Jack. "Right." He held out his arm to gesture the Doctor inside, very specifically not touching him in any way. "So, married. What's she like?" No-one was fooled by his casual tone.
Ianto ignored the tight squirm in his own stomach as the pair went through the secret door. He gave Amy a falsely pleasant smile. "Back to work." He examined the outer door frame.
Amy ignored him and talked to her silent partner. "I've been thinking about River. Trying not to. You know how I get."
Rory nodded his head, a kind, sad expression on his face.
"And I've been thinking about all the time we spent with Mels."
Rory smiled.
"D'you remember that time when she stole the weed from those boys in seventh form? We all went to her place. Her foster parents were never home. Guess we should've thought more about that, huh?"
Another sad smile.
"I've been remembering the three of us sitting around, coughing our lungs out because we didn't know what we were doing. Remember that?"
A nod.
"It's just, we're her parents. We're supposed to be the ones telling her not to use drugs. We're the worst parents ever."
Her face was caught in a sad memory. Ianto didn't know where to begin. These two people, who both looked younger than he did, had a daughter who was old enough to steal drugs and smoke?
Rory went over to Amy and placed an arm around her. Then he did a quick pantomime. She translated: "'Mels wasn't a bad kid. We only smoked dope once, and we all got so sick we never picked it up again.' You're right. I still feel awful."
He shrugged, in the universal sign of, "Yes, but what can you do about it now?"
Ianto turned back to the door. Jack's friends were weird.
***
Half an hour later, Tosh and Gwen went on a quick visit to collect the DVD from Dawes.
"Jack's orders," Tosh said, collecting the business cards from Ianto's desk.
As she headed to the still-not-repaired door, Gwen said, "The Doctor apologised about the whole thing. Said poor Martha had to support them both because he kept getting fired."
"Who's Martha?" Amy asked.
Ianto shared a look with Tosh and Gwen. Pretty young companions came and went. Jack had known some of them, but the Doctor didn't keep them, he used them up and went looking for another.
"Friend of ours," said Gwen. "Used to travel with the Doctor. Maybe the two of you can have a chat later."
As they went out, Ianto opened the drawer of his desk. The day just got longer and longer, and he was dying for a fag. He'd been rationing this pack out, trying to quit and pretending to Jack that he already had. If he finished these, he wouldn't buy more. Because working for Torchwood definitely meant he had lung cancer to fear later on in life.
A family came into the Tourist Centre, and Ianto placed as professional a smile as he could muster over his face. Yes, they had maps of the city centre. Yes, he could recommend a nearby pub for a traditional meal. Yes, he could ignore the mum's not remotely quiet asides to her husband that Ianto was likely in cahoots with the locals to send business their way and get a good cut from the deal. The older child, a boy, kept touching all the displays, leaving fingerprints Ianto could see from a distance. The younger child, a girl, stood butted right next to the desk, staring up at him and grinning the entire time.
"You got a potty?" she asked brightly.
"Sorry," he replied with what he incorrectly believed to be an appropriately jolly tone for children. "Not open for the public. There's a Tesco Express not far from here and you can ask them."
The mum took a copy of every map and flier Ianto had, even the exceptionally out-of-date ones, without a thank you and with continued shushing of her elder offspring, who was currently redecorating the side of the desk with handprints.
When they finally left, Ianto grabbed for his cigarettes, only to discover they'd vanished. Not on the desk, not on the floor, not back in the drawer, not in a pocket. He considered asking Amy if she had any, but nixed that plan. Quitting. Right.
A few minutes later, Owen tromped up from the Hub and proceeded to take over Ianto's computer space.
"What are you researching?"
"Children's programming." Loud moans from a porno star's faked orgasm emanated from the speakers.
"If you want to remind yourself that you can't get an erection, please do so on your own computer."
"Yours has a better graphics card. Do you reckon if I blew Jack, he'd requisition me a new one?"
Ianto counted to ten slowly in his head, because rising to Owen's bait had never once worked in his favour. "I'm the one who puts in all the requisitions. I would buy you a new one if you promise never, ever to blow me."
"It's a deal."
"Turn that off."
"This is the good part. Look, you can see her kidneys."
"There is a woman right outside the door." Which was a lie, as Amy picked that moment to walk in, a bright smile on her face. Ianto felt the blush burn up his neck as the moans continued.
"What're you watching, boys?" she asked mirthfully.
"Happy Scrappy Hero Pup," said Owen, as she swung herself around the desk to see.
"I've done that," Amy said, standing with a critical tilt to her head. "It hurts your knees if you're in that position too long. Rory! Come see this!"
Rory came into the office, eyebrows raising at the sounds. Ianto wanted to drop through the floor, but Owen just rested his arms behind his head. Amy pointed at the screen. "Remember when we tried that one?"
Rory nodded, and covered his face with one hand. Amy went on, "Okay, now that we haven't tried yet. Get a good look. Maybe after, we can go back to the TARDIS and...." He grabbed her hand, and walked her out of the Tourist Office back to their stances outside, where Ianto could just hear her continue to describe acrobatic sexual positions she'd like to try. One involved a circus seal.
With Owen up here, Ianto could easily slip down to the Hub to see what Jack was doing all alone with the Doctor. Not that he worried.
As he entered through the cog wheel door, he saw the Doctor sitting at Toshiko's computer terminal, Jack leaning over him to point out something on the screen. But Ianto had sat in that chair, or chairs just like it, and Jack had leaned against him from behind in precisely this fashion, Jack's warmth and his unique cinnamon-amber-musk going full-blast. More times than he could count, this alone had been enough for Ianto to lose his reason (and shortly thereafter, his trousers).
He cleared his throat.
Jack glanced up. Was he startled? Disappointed? "Ianto Jones, just the man I wanted to see."
I'm sure, Ianto thought, making his way to the workstation and stepping close enough that Jack had to move away from the Doctor's chair or be trod on. His expression read confused and mildly hurt, but Ianto wasn't buying it.
"What do you need?"
Jack's arm moved past him to the screen. "We're still tracking the alien, but this just popped up."
A newspaper article with a photo was on the screen. The Doctor said, "Poor girl died yesterday in a swimming pool accident."
Ianto felt it was not in his best interests to say "So?" and definitely not to say "This is Cardiff, people die all the time from incredibly stupid things usually related to annoying aliens." What would Gwen say? Oh yes. "That's terrible. What happened?"
"We think she drowned because of this," Jack said, pointing at her photograph. The teenaged girl, identified as one Julie Dwyer of Roath, wore a carved gemstone ring on the hand holding her chin.
"Holdenbanky crystals," said the Doctor. "Nasty things. Completely harmless for years, until they come into contact with hypochlorite ions, and then…."
Jack made a sound like a scratch. "Anyway, the body is being viewed today. You and Owen can go to the viewing, pay your respects, and get the ring. We'll keep working on the Doctor's issue here."
"Isn't it more your purview to desecrate and molest dead bodies?"
Jack shook his head. "I really think Owen's the expert on molesting dead bodies, and you do handle all the corpses who aren't walking around on their own two feet. Hurry up, the viewing starts in twenty minutes."
"Fine." Ianto stalked away. His clothing wasn't appropriate, but he kept a black suit with a plain white shirt in Jack's bunker for emergency clothing changes and unexpected sleepovers. He made one last play. "Help me change?"
"Not right now."
"Not even supposed to be here today," Ianto muttered, and went to Jack's office alone.
***
Part Two