Fanfic - Counting Stars 13/17 [Torchwood: Jack/Ianto]

[soera]

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve

The week that Gwen was away on her honeymoon was blessedly uneventful, or at least as uneventful as Torchwood ever got. They chased down Weevils, investigated Rift anomalies, had a meteorite crash into their jurisdiction again (no sex gas this time, thank god) and were generally run off their feet. Still, nothing earth-shattering happened, and Jack’s depression seemed to slowly lift.

Ianto spent a lot of time with Jack that week. They generally didn’t do much of anything - just sat there enjoying the company as they worked. Sometimes Ianto read while Jack finished his paperwork. Other times, Jack dozed on Ianto’s lap while Ianto wrote out reports. It was comfortable, and very nearly domestic.

That Friday, Ianto went over to Tosh’s house. They studied a little Spanish (Tosh was coming along brilliantly) and then tossed about the idea of watching a movie. In the end, however, they broke with their usual pattern and ended up just talking instead. Tosh was all sorts of confused about her relationship (such as it was) with Owen, and Ianto was more than willing to lend her a listening ear.

“I can’t help but feel like he’s a better person now he’s dead,” Ianto said, frowning. “Terrible of me, I know, but it’s like - he doesn’t have to pretend so hard anymore.”

“Pretend?” Tosh asked, nursing her mug of sweet tea.

“The way he used to be so acerbic,” Ianto said. “He had his reasons, but…”

“What reasons?” Tosh asked immediately, but Ianto shook his head.

“They’re his own,” he told her. “It wouldn’t be right to tell them.”

“Suppose not,” Tosh said glumly.

“I’ll say this much,” Ianto said. Tosh perked up hopefully. “It wasn’t all acting, of course. He’s got a kind of harsh personality, but I think once he realised how effective that was at keeping people away…”

“What, he was doing it on purpose?” Tosh asked, bewildered.

Ianto shrugged. “For a specific reason, I suspect,” he said. It was probably the same reason why he had being invisible down to an art form. “And I think it took dying and coming back to realise it wasn’t necessary any more.”

Tosh sipped at her tea thoughtfully. “Still don’t get it,” she said, sighing.

“Don’t feel bad,” Ianto said, smiling crookedly. “I’ve just seen a similar thing before.”

He startled awake early the next morning, his dreams chasing him momentarily into the real world before fading. The sound of the yelling and the sight of that livid, disgusted face were hard to scrub from his memory, though.

“Yan?” Jack asked groggily. “Nigh’mare?”

“Mm,” Ianto said, lying back down gingerly. Jack yawned and draped an arm around Ianto, pulling him close.

“Go t’sleep,” he murmured. “M’here.”

The simple, factual statement never failed to calm Ianto down, despite the unsettling buzz of familiarity he felt every time he heard it.

I’m here.

He fell back into a dreamless sleep, Jack’s mind entwined with his.

Gwen came back just in time for Ianto to press-gang her and Owen into going with him to the Electro - he knew Jack would have to stay at the Hub that day since UNIT and Flat Holm were both expected to call. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen the announcement before. But! The Electro!

He tapped questioningly on Jack’s mind, and got a very distracted request to talk later. He sent back a feeling of confirmation and then withdrew, leaving Jack to his work. Instead, he told Tosh where they’d be, and then left, dragging a reluctant Gwen and Owen in his wake. It really was a pity Tosh hadn’t been available either, but she was busy trying to run a program she’d just written, and it was spewing enough bugs at her to turn the normally mild-mannered girl into a snapping demon.

So. Gwen and Owen it was. The old place had shown signs of Rift activity before, so he was perfectly justified in wanting to check it out, right? It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Ianto really wanted to see it again, nothing at all.

The rain was an unexpected glitch, but even the downpour couldn’t dampen Ianto’s excitement. Since he’d seen the announcement of the re-opening, he’d been remembering those childhood trips with his grandfather, and he was looking forward to seeing what changes had been made.

Gwen and Owen were considerably less enthusiastic.

Ianto ignored them. He was getting pretty good at that.

“You took this hard.”

Ianto looked up tiredly, vaguely registering that it was Jack leaning against the ladder. Jack, with a frown on his face and a weary look to match his. Jack, who could no doubt feel the bone-deep exhaustion Ianto felt, the ache at knowing they’d done too little too late. Had only saved one little boy and condemned him to a life as an orphan.

“I’m tired,” Ianto admitted, pushing away the book he’d been trying to read. It wasn’t like anything was sinking into his head anyway.

Jack took a deep breath. “Tired?” he repeated.

Ianto nodded silently. Jack came to him, kissed his brow, and made him lie down in bed. Then he held him, for a long time. By the time Ianto finally drifted off to sleep, Jack’s chest was wet with his tears.

Big black eyes stared into his.

Ianto tilted his head to the side. So did the baby Weevil.

Ianto raised a hand. So did the baby Weevil.

Ianto sighed and sat down. The baby Weevil let out an undulating shriek Ianto had quickly come to realise was actually laughter. Even if it did sound uncannily like someone being blitzed alive through a wood-chipper.

Janet was considerably less vocal than the baby (Jack insisted it was a male, though they hadn’t been able to decide on a suitable name) but at least she wasn’t snarling as she usually did. Ianto reached out tentatively and touched the edge of the baby Weevil’s mind. A collective mind, like the Weevils had, was not something he’d ever want to get in the midst of, but it was safe enough to skirt their consciousnesses.

And it really was interesting. He didn’t think anyone had ever tried something like this before. Possibly because no one had been insane enough to try, but still. (Besides, telepathic experimentation with Weevils was a good way to get his mind off the Night Travellers and the nightmares they were still invoking.) Using telepathic nudges to keep the baby Weevil on track as they brought it back to the Hub had been an action born of desperation. It had worked, though, and well enough that Ianto thought it would probably be worth conducting a few experiments.

The baby responded fairly well to telepathic suggestions, and Ianto had come to realise that Weevils as a whole were far more telepathically attuned than the team had initially suspected. It resisted only when Ianto tried to make it do something it really didn’t want to (bite Janet). Any suggestions that were in line with its character, however, it complied with happily.

Janet was considerably less pliant, but Ianto did learn that an adult Weevil’s basic instinct was not to attack, but to hide. They were somewhat less than fond of light, and they would generally do anything to get back into darkness (the effects on light on them apparently lingered, which explained why a) they’d encountered angry Weevils at night and b) those Weevils had been comparatively easier to subdue). They also had voracious appetites which were for some reason heightened by being in the light. Taken together, the two were the reason why the majority of the Weevils in Cardiff could live peacefully in the sewers, but suddenly become aggressive killers when they came to the surface for whatever reason.

Which had all sorts of implications for how to subdue a Weevil, of course. Ianto couldn’t help wondering if they’d calm down if they had something wrapped around their eyes - like calming a cobra. Would probably take a while for the effects to dissipate completely, so it might not be practical. And somehow, he doubted Jack would let him get close enough to an adult Weevil to try, anyway.

Owen would be absolutely green with envy when he realised how much Ianto had picked up from just a few days’ worth of telepathic study. The doctor’s research on Janet was where the majority of their knowledge of Weevils came from, but they all knew the information was by no means comprehensive. Ianto had already filled in quite a number of gaps in their understanding of Weevil behaviour - though he hadn’t shared the knowledge yet. Not until he was certain.

The baby Weevil chirped interrogatively.

Ianto brushed its mind carefully and it ululated again. He tried the same thing with Janet, who growled and shifted slightly, then seemed to relax somewhat.

Then he spotted a widening gap in the collective mind. It probably wasn’t a smart thing to do, but he anchored himself to Jack (who had no clue what Ianto was doing, poor bloke) and then cautiously extended a tendril of consciousness into the gap.

Almost immediately, it closed around him. For the barest moment, he panicked, but then he realised that it wasn’t doing anything. It was just - holding him in place. A moment’s experimentation revealed that he could easily move in either direction. And the further in he went, the louder the voices became.

Until, all at once, something slammed into his mind. He reeled, catching and locking it away instantly, then hurriedly retreated from the collective mind. Emerging from it, he flung himself around Jack’s mind, taking comfort in the familiar, entirely human presence.

Ianto? What happened?

Ianto took a deep breath, staring at Janet. She made a low, cooing sound from deep in her throat as she looked back. It was the friendliest he’d ever seen an adult Weevil be, and it was more than a little eerie.

The baby Weevil chirruped in what seemed like amusement.

I think we should name the baby Isaac, Ianto said, absently flipping through some of the information that had just been rammed into his head.

… Say what?

Isaac. It means ‘laughter.’ Considering how much time he spends laughing at me, I think it’s appropriate.

A flash of amusement. What’s he laughing about?

Oh, the usual, Ianto said casually. Silly vakdusj trying to bekrallkirj, being all meroyanukjar, that sort of thing.

There was a long silence. Then Jack sent a definite sense of Demanding Answers Now. Also, he was apparently on his way down to the Vault.

Bring Owen, Ianto said. Actually, the girls too, if they want. I think I just figured something out about our Weevil friends.

Jack was the first in, skidding to a halt beside Ianto and dropping to his knees. The moment he reached out to grab Ianto’s arm, Janet snarled and lunged forward, crashing against the transparent door and making Owen squeak in a distinctly unmanly manner.

“Ianto?” Tosh asked in alarm. He reached out, grazing Janet’s mind and the collective to tell them not to worry. Ifaghura? she asked, using a word that Ianto thought would translate most closely as ‘pack.’ He sent back a feeling of affirmation, and she subsided immediately, though she still drew Isaac behind her protectively.

“And here I thought I was the King of the Weevils,” Owen said, staring at her, then at Ianto.

“Wait - Ianto did that?” Gwen asked. Jack’s grip tightened on Ianto’s arm.

“In a manner of speaking,” Ianto said, placing his other hand over Jack’s reassuringly. “It’s just talking, actually, nothing else. I suspect I’ve inadvertently made myself ifaghurishka.”

“Which means?” Jack asked anxiously.

“Pack-mate, as near as I can translate it,” Ianto said, prying Jack’s white fingers from his arm and taking his wrist instead. “I suppose I should explain?”

“Do,” Jack bit off. Ianto sent a wave of apology and reassurance to him, feeling Jack relax as he realised Ianto hadn’t been hurt at all.

It didn’t take long to explain what had happened to the others. Owen immediately commandeered Ianto to help him run tests on the Weevils - and, incidentally, figure out why they reacted the way they did to him. The knowledge that Ianto had gleaned from the collective mind was knowledge imparted onto every new member. Through it, he knew that Owen was registered in the collective as one to be revered, though no explanation was given as to why. He suspected that a Weevil would instinctively know, but since he was quite human, he hadn’t the faintest idea. It ought to be easy enough to ask Janet though.

“Later,” Jack insisted. “I want to check your mindscape first.”

“No damage done,” Ianto assured him, getting to his feet. “Defences kicked in faster than they ever have before, in fact.”

“Still,” Jack said, and Ianto nodded in acquiescence. The few hours it would take to inspect his mindscape were worth setting Jack’s mind at rest.

“And in the meantime I’ll think up things I want to know,” Owen said, in a voice that was very nearly giddy with excitement. Ianto thought about pointing out how much like a six-year-old he was acting, then decided he rather liked living.

Tosh gave Ianto a disconcertingly piercing look as left the Vault. Ianto smiled ruefully at her and spread his hands slightly in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture. Her frown deepened momentarily, and then she jerked her head at Jack, then back at Ianto. Ianto shook his head, then shrugged and straightened his shoulders. Tosh relaxed and gave him a small smile, then hurried ahead to talk to Gwen.

“Oh, that was beautiful,” Jack murmured, a hand coming to rest on Ianto’s lower back.

“I’m sure I haven’t the faintest what you’re talking about,” Ianto said blandly, even as Jack’s hand slid a little lower.

“So, is she an older or younger sister?” Jack asked quietly.

“Now, that? I really don’t know,” Ianto said, smiling. Jack gave him an affectionate look and returned his hand to Ianto’s back as they moved past the others, heading for Jack’s office, and their room.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Ianto lounged lazily in the oversized armchair, dressed in an old white T-shirt and faded sweatpants. “I don’t know,” he said. “Why are you not surprised?”

Jack took one last look around the library, then moved over to Ianto. The armchair quivered, then grew a little wider to accommodate Jack. It was still narrow enough that they ended up curled into each other, which Jack suspected was the whole point.

“Your mindscape is a library?” Jack asked.

“Actually, my mindscape tends to change,” Ianto corrected, eliciting a frown from Jack. “Yes, I know,” Ianto added. “Not supposed to do that. Mine does. It cycles most often between this, the archives, and… well, it used to be the book room in my old flat, but now it’s the room I use here to store my books.”

Jack laughed into Ianto’s hair. “I still maintain you should call it a library,” he said. “You have enough books to qualify.”

Ianto made a derisive sound. Jack tried to suppress the laughter. Of course, since he was in Ianto’s mindscape, Ianto could feel his emotions anyway, so it wasn’t of much use.

“Okay, sorry, sorry!” Jack yelped as Ianto swatted at him. “Ow, stop it, that’s abuse!”

“Could kiss it better if you like,” Ianto offered archly.

“You should,” Jack grumbled. “But come on, let’s do this first.”

“Do what?” Ianto asked, his hand skimming the front of Jack’s trousers. Jack breathed out sharply, then dissolved into nothingness, leaving Ianto sprawling across the armchair.

“I can’t concentrate when you do that,” Jack complained, re-materialising beside his disgruntled lover. “Let’s finish this - checking your mindscape - and then we’ll get to the interesting part.”

Ianto sulked briefly as he got up, the armchair vanishing behind him. “Fine,” he said. “Where would you like to begin?”

“Anywhere,” Jack said. “How about you pick a corner and we work our way around?”

Ianto nodded and led Jack over to a corner of the room. The library was an easily understood manifestation of his mind - each book was a specific incident or memory, and they were grouped according to how they were related to each other. The sorting was always what took longest, of course, and everyone had different ways of organising their thoughts.

“My theory is that the mindscape changes depending on the categorisation I use,” Ianto said conversationally as he picked a book off the nearest shelf and handed it to Jack. Jack flipped it open and watched as a chubby, dark-haired girl laughed and cut into a birthday cake. “The library is organised by - genre, so to speak. This shelf? Nostalgia.”

Jack smiled and snapped the book shut. “Your sister?”

“Yep,” Ianto said, nodding, steering Jack away from the shelf. It was obvious with a single glance that nothing on it had been damaged.

“So the archives are…?”

“Chronologically sorted,” Ianto said. “Also, that’s the one that holds everything. This library? A lot of moments, but not all my memories. And the book room only holds my most important memories. Oh, and I didn’t mention the study - which is where I have the things I’m currently working on. I shift things from the other mindscapes to the study as I need them.”

Jack shook his head in bemusement as they strolled between the shelves. “This shouldn’t be possible,” he whispered, reaching for another book. Ianto grabbed his hand hurriedly.

“Bad memories,” he said, then let go. “You might not want to see them.”

Jack gave him a slow, measuring look, then picked up the book and opened it to the first page.

“He wouldn’t have cared!” a younger Ianto yelled. The man standing in front of him didn’t reply with words.

The blow sent Ianto reeling back a step and then - he stumbled off the edge of the stairs and there was a horrible crunching sound and pain through his chest and then darkness.

Jack closed the book. “Who was that?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice level.

“Dafydd,” Ianto answered after a moment. “My brother.”

Jack carefully put the book back, then picked up the one just before it. A comfortable sofa materialised behind them and Ianto dropped into it, tugging his hand free from Jack’s. Jack glanced at the drawn look on Ianto’s face, then opened the book, turning to the end.

“Look, it’s not like I did anything,” Ianto said desperately. “I didn’t say or do anything, I swear!”

“Like that makes it any better,” Dafydd snarled. “Always knew you were a freak, but a fucking queer pansy?”

“I’m not,” Ianto insisted, chancing a quick glance at his mother. She was standing in the entry to the kitchen, nervously twisting her hands in the fabric of her dress, but she wasn’t saying anything. Why wasn’t she saying anything? “But - but even if I was, there’s nothing wrong with it!”

“Nothing wrong?” Dafydd roared. “By god, Tad should’ve given you a good few smacks when you were a brat!”

“Tad didn’t know anything about being a father!” Ianto cried defiantly. “Taid was better than him any day!”

“You deserve a hiding for that,” Dafydd said, taking a threatening step forward. Ianto stepped back instinctively, his foot hitting the edge of the stairs. “And what d’you think your precious Taid would’ve said if he knew this, eh?”

Jack closed the book, returned it to its place, then turned and kneeled before Ianto. His young lover looked particularly vulnerable in that moment, curled up on the sofa and completely pale.

“I know he’s blood,” Jack said softly. “But I hope you realise that if I ever meet him, it’s not going to be pretty.”

Ianto managed a wan smile. “I’d like to think I can handle him now,” he said, only half-jokingly. Jack took his hand and pressed a kiss to the palm.

“Even then,” he said. “You do remember how protective you get of me?” He gave Ianto a crooked smile. “I’m the same way with you.”

Another smile, this one slightly more genuine. “Don’t do anything lasting,” Ianto said.

“With an attitude like that, I probably don’t need to ask,” Jack said. “But has he changed at all?”

Ianto shrugged. “I was in hospital for - a while. Cracked rib. I think that shook him some, he didn’t intend it. I spent a lot of time avoiding him, and he kept out of my way too… you see why I got out of that house as soon as I could.” Jack nodded, pressing little kisses all across Ianto’s palm, wrist, the tips of his fingers, each joint on each finger. Ianto sighed, relaxing despite everything.

“But his general attitude hasn’t changed, I don’t think,” Ianto went on, stretching out his legs and leaning back against the arm of the sofa. “I sent an email to Mam once about Lisa and he saw it and sent a, kind of a, ah, nasty email back. I basically just cut him off completely and I don’t talk much with the rest of my family, so if he’s changed now I wouldn’t know. But…”

“Why set yourself up for abuse?” Jack asked rhetorically. He turned Ianto’s hand over and kissed the back of it. “You’re an incredibly brave man, you know that, Ianto Jones?”

Ianto made a sound of disagreement. “Just a survivor,” he said frankly.

Jack grinned and shook his head, pulling himself up and crawling onto the sofa to straddle Ianto. “Brave,” he reiterated. “It’s three.”

“What?” Ianto asked, thrown by the apparent non sequitur.

“On the list,” Jack said, poking Ianto’s belly and drawing what was clearly a giggle from his lover. He grinned and poked him once more before desisting. “Remember? Three was ‘So incredibly brave.’”

Ianto flushed scarlet. “Right,” he managed after a moment. Jack leaned down for a kiss, then reluctantly rolled off Ianto.

“How about a good memory this time?” he asked.

“That would be those shelves,” Ianto said, gesturing without getting up from the sofa. “Help yourself.”

The implicit trust in that statement made Jack pause for a few moments. Then he stole another kiss before wandering over to the shelves Ianto had indicated.

“You like it here, do you?”
“Well enough, sir.”
“Interested in another job?”
“It would depend on the job, of course.”
“Good answer. Here, this is my card. Give me a call if you’re interested.”
“Torchwood, sir? It’s not a particularly informative card.”
“Nope. It’s government work, lad. A lot of it is classified. You know how to keep your mouth shut, I can tell.”
“Thank you.”
“Just a fact, boy. Now, if you’re not interested, tell me now and I won’t bring it up again.”
“… Let me think about it.”
“Good answer again. Call.”

“Ohmigod I’m so sorry!”
“It’s okay, I should’ve been watching where I was going -”
“Here, let me help you get those -”
“Right, thanks - oh, you wouldn’t happen to know where Room 37 is, would you?”
“Ah, yeah. Down a level and take a right to the end of the corridor.”
“Thanks.”
“New here?”
“Yep. Ianto Jones.”
“Lisa Hallett.”

“You do realise you don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“But you want to?”
“Yep.”
“… I don’t think I understand you.”
“I don’t think I understand myself, sir.”
“Could drop the sir, maybe.”
“I’ll try.”
“Ever been with a guy before?”
“Afraid not. Will that be a problem?”
“Nope. We’ll just do something a bit easier, hey?”
“If you insist. I don’t mind -”
“Not if you’re not used to it, sweetheart.”
“I -”
“… Do you mind me calling you that?”
“No! No, it’s fine.”
“… All right then. I do still have a few ideas for that stopwatch though…”

“I went and bought fabric today, Misty, can you believe it? I thought I might try my hand at sewing a suit, see what I remember from before. I have a feeling I’ll mess up spectacularly, but it can’t hurt to try, right? Never know, might get something beautiful out of it. And you know, I think I just made a very apt, if slightly idiotic, metaphoric comparison to my - thing - with Jack.”

Jack closed the book and put it back on the shelf, grinning. “Did you ever sew that suit then?” he called out.

“Yep,” Ianto replied, materialising beside him. He held out his arms, showing Jack the well-fitted suit he was wearing. “Though I still haven’t worn it out yet. Like it?”

Jack looked at it appreciatively. “Oh, yes,” he murmured, reaching out and brushing the lapel. “Very nice.” The corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile even as he tried to keep his face straight. “So, apt comparison?”

“I think so,” Ianto said solemnly. “I don’t, however, think I’ll be winning any literature awards anytime soon.”

Jack grinned outright at that, slipping an arm around Ianto’s waist as he steered him through the rows of books. “Neither do I,” he said, scanning the tomes as they walked. Nothing appeared damaged, and he didn’t sense any discomfort coming from Ianto’s mind, just - desire. Hm.

“Give me ten minutes,” he said, and hurried down the aisles, looking for any signs of damage. Nothing jumped out at him and so he ran back to his lover, fairly throwing himself at Ianto and spinning them around giddily. Ianto laughed in surprise as he tried to catch his balance, failed miserably, and fell on top of Jack.

“Hi,” Jack said happily.

“Hi,” Ianto said, attempting to push himself off. He didn’t go very far, seeing as Jack’s arms were wrapped firmly around his waist.

“I’m under you,” Jack pointed out. “That’s my favourite place to be.”

“Not on top of me?” Ianto asked.

“Well, either,” Jack said dismissively. “Of course, it’d be better if we were naked.” He looked expectantly at Ianto, who leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose. In the next instant, their clothes had vanished.

“Wonderful thing about mindscapes,” Jack sighed contentedly as he pulled Ianto down for a kiss. Ianto murmured an inarticulate agreement into Jack’s mouth. He knew that technically their bodies didn’t exist in the mindscape, that they were simply manifestations of the forms they were most comfortable with. It didn’t stop the sensations though - if anything, every touch felt even more intense than in the real world.

Jack bucked underneath him as Ianto found the pulse-point on his neck and sucked hard at it. “F-fuck,” he gasped. A low growl tore itself from Ianto’s throat as he caught Jack’s arms, holding him down, lips never leaving his skin. A very brief flash of fear caught Ianto’s attention and he gentled his grip, soothing away the alarm. Jack’s mind warred between the conflicting desires (break loose, never be pinned again, never be imprisoned again - relax, be loved, lose control and revel in it) before he went completely limp under Ianto.

Ianto’s lips pressed appreciation onto Jack’s smooth skin, his tongue darting out for a taste of a taut nipple. He teased the hard nub until Jack was gasping and squirming beneath him - then he moved on to the other and repeated the process, distantly registering the wild desire enveloping Jack. And yet, through it all, Jack’s mind lay submissive to his, trusting him utterly, waiting for Ianto to do what he wanted.

“I’m going to let go now,” Ianto said. “But I want you to lie still. Don’t move. Can you do that?”

“Mm-hmm,” Jack replied. Ianto held on for a moment longer, then let go and pushed himself up to kneel over Jack. He kissed him deeply before moving down his jaw-line, nipping at the pulse-point at his neck again. Jack mewled quietly but remained more or less still.

Ianto sat back, straddling Jack’s thighs. Jack’s cock was thick and stiff in front of him, the balls drawing up a little as if looking for attention. His own cock twitched at the sight but he resolutely ignored his arousal as he took Jack in hand.

He set up a slow rhythm, deliberately focusing on his hand and Jack’s cock, not once looking up at Jack’s face. A slow twist of his hand as he pulled from root to tip drew a strangled moan from Jack, as did a gentle flick of his thumb to the head of Jack’s cock. He kept the movements slow and steady, varying them when he felt like Jack was getting too close to the edge, keeping his lover teetering between promisingly firm strokes and light caresses that didn’t do anything other than tantalise.

Jack’s legs started quivering first, and then his stomach and arms as he tried to control the desire to move, to find some kind of friction.

“Don’t move,” Ianto said. Jack shuddered at the warning note in Ianto’s voice and Ianto feltsawheard a brief flash of manacles and a mocking voice. “Me, Jack,” he said. “Just me. Nothing holding you down, but you’ll stay still for me, won’t you?”

It took a moment before Jack nodded slightly, stilling himself. Ianto dropped a kiss on his belly as a reward, before moving down, his eyes finally on Jack’s face, drinking in the sight of that closed-eyed concentration.

His hand was still firmly around the base of Jack’s cock when he leaned in for a taste. Jack’s eyes flew open when Ianto licked the pre-cum beading the tip, and Ianto smiled at his lover before closing his mouth around the head.

Jack moaned desperately as Ianto’s tongue pressed in firmly on the underside, then moved around and over his cock. The first time Ianto had tried this had been an exercise in mistakes, teeth being the least of them. Now though, his lover knew every button to push on his body, and did it with expert finesse. Ianto’s mouth left his cock and Jack whined in protest.

“Shush, cariad,” Ianto said reprovingly, and Jack subsided with a definite feel of sulkiness touching Ianto’s mind. He smiled and moved so that he was kneeling between Jack’s legs, then gave Jack a wordless, mental instruction to spread them wider. Jack did so immediately, and Ianto took a moment to appreciate the sight laid out before him.

Then he dove back down on Jack’s cock.

Snatches of memories flashed through Ianto’s mind, memories of being spread-eagled and helpless against a sadist’s games. Ianto firmly tugged away every memory he found, replacing them with the much more palatable sensation of being thoroughly worshipped. He sucked lightly, then a little harder as Jack groaned, breathing hard. He flicked his tongue up the length of Jack’s cock, then flattened it solidly against him, going down as much as he could. Total lust washed over his mind, not all of it his own. There was a healthy dose of gratitude woven through the emotion.

Ianto would have said something, but his mouth was otherwise occupied. That didn’t stop him sending every ounce of appreciation he could summon to Jack. Oddly enough, that seemed to be what finally made Jack come, spurting hot and thick down Ianto’s throat. Ianto swallowed instinctively around his mouthful, pulling back just enough so he didn’t gag, and rode out the orgasm until Jack had subsided, shaking. Then he let the lax cock fall from his lips, and moved up slightly.

“Up,” he urged, and with a little effort, Jack managed to hook his legs over Ianto’s shoulder. The complete lack of lube threw Ianto for a moment as they manoeuvred into position, until he realised that he could quite easily just imagine some of the stuff. Then it dawned on him that really, there wasn’t a need for lube, not here.

He gave Jack a mental instruction, fingers questing to see if he’d been obeyed. Jack sighed blissfully and opened up for him. The physical representation of Jack’s mind was the only thing he had control over in Ianto’s mindscape, which meant that Jack was fully capable of relaxing himself enough that they could do without lube.

Ianto positioned himself and pressed in slowly, feeling the tight ring of muscle give way easily. It was better than he’d ever felt before, the experience heightened not only by being in a mindscape, but also because it was the first time they’d ever gone bare-back. Jack bore down and let Ianto in all the way, encasing Ianto’s cock in tight heat. Ianto braced himself on his arms and reached for a kiss as he set up a gentle rhythm.

When he pulled back, he saw that Jack’s eyes were closed, and his face was surprisingly relaxed. His eyelashes were long and dark against his skin, his skin flushed and absolutely radiant. The healthy bronze colour was a stark contrast to Ianto’s own pale skin, and he dipped his head to taste the thin film of sweat on Jack’s neck. Abruptly, he remembered a time a while ago when their positions had been reversed and Jack had mouthed something against Ianto’s neck.

Silently, his lips shaped the same words against Jack’s skin.

Jack shook a little and then opened his eyes just in time to catch Ianto’s as he lifted his head. There was a shy little smile on Jack’s face that Ianto had never seen before - like he’d just been given an amazing gift and wasn’t quite sure it was intended for him, that it wouldn’t be taken away and given to someone else.

Ianto kissed that smile, rocking slowly in and out of Jack’s channel. He knew he was close, but he suddenly never wanted to stop kissing Jack. Naturally, that was when Jack chose to contract around Ianto’s cock, tighten, loosen, tighten, loosen, in a determined rhythm, and it was only a matter of minutes before Ianto’s balls had drawn up and tensed in that familiar prelude, and then he was coming his brains out, spilling into his lover’s welcoming channel in strong spurts.

His arms were on the verge of giving out, he noticed absently as he tried to blink the stars out of his eyes. Except that wasn’t right. It was his mindscape, he could bloody well think his arms into supporting him. Except that wasn’t right either. How was he supposed to think like this?

Jack’s mind touched his, tentatively asking a question. When Ianto figured out what he was asking, he sent back an affirmative. There were warm arms around him immediately and he realised he’d been pulled into a deep, hungry kiss. It took a moment for him to process that, but then he returned it with enthusiasm.

“We lasted a bit longer than last time,” Jack said breathlessly when they finally separated. Ianto’s breath stuttered in a half-laugh.

“Still need more practice,” he said, carefully sliding out of Jack. His lover made a face and Ianto quickly thought the mess away.

“Definitely more convenient in a mindscape,” Jack murmured.

“You’d think,” Ianto sighed. He pulled himself off Jack and lay down on his side next to him instead. Jack turned to look at him and Ianto held out one arm. It was all the invitation Jack needed to nestle snugly into Ianto’s hold.

“You mean it’s not?” Jack asked.

“Convenient here,” Ianto said. “I, on the other hand, am wondering which suit I should change into before leaving our room.”

It took Jack a moment to work it out, and then he began to quiver with laughter in Ianto’s arms. “We just came in our clothes, didn’t we?”

“Yep,” Ianto said, sighing into Jack’s hair. “Those stains are going to be murder to get out.”

Jack just laughed even harder at that.

Jack’s look through some of his childhood memories had brought up thoughts about his family that Ianto wasn’t entirely sure how to handle. He was absolutely clear on how he felt about Dafydd, but not the other members of his family. On the one hand, he was honest enough with himself to know that there was definitely some level of resentment against his mother for never having defended him against Dafydd. On the other hand, she’d made a tentative apology to him after he’d left, that had seemed sincere enough to him. It had been the sole reason he hadn’t cut himself off from her as well. Rhiannon had been angry when she’d found out, which was why he still kept in contact with her, but it had been painfully obvious she didn’t really understand him, either.

Couldn’t blame them, really. At the time, he hadn’t understood himself.

He’d refused to inflict Dafydd’s poison on himself. If Dafydd was home, he stayed out. He came back when Dafydd wasn’t there and always kept to himself. He learned how to hide, to become invisible. A lot of the time, he stayed over with friends and acquaintances, and became used to living out of a bag. They were all experiences that would later stand him in good stead in Torchwood. He saved every bit of money he could, and was off to London as soon as possible.

It was hard not to wonder, now, how much of his anger at his mother’s remarriage had been because of her failure to stand up for him that first time - and all those times after. She wasn’t a strong person, and had told him that despite accepting him, she wasn’t going to try and talk to Dafydd. And so the verbal vitriol continued until Ianto was able to engineer his escape.

At that point, he didn’t think he’d ever come back to Wales, much less consider visiting his family again. He didn’t mind seeing Rhiannon, especially now that she was living with Johnny. Dafydd technically lived with a friend, but he was in and out of the family home far too often for Ianto to be comfortable visiting his mother (if he even wanted to, which he wasn’t too sure about).

And he was just going around in circles now, wasn’t he? He scrubbed at his face, trying to order his thoughts properly.

1) He was generally fine with Rhiannon.
2) By extension, he could tolerate Johnny and the kids.
3) He was of two minds about seeing (reconciling with?) his mother.
4) Seeing Dafydd = no way in hell.
5) If he accidentally encountered Dafydd - he’d walk away.
6) If walking away wasn’t possible - a repeat incident was Not Going To Happen.

Besides, he and Jack sparred regularly now, and Jack had been teaching him a few nifty tricks. He’d be more than happy to practise them on Dafydd.

“I could hear your mind buzzing from my office,” Jack said, lips twitching when Ianto started violently.

“I think you just took a year off my life,” Ianto gasped.

Jack walked behind Ianto’s chair and wrapped his arms around Ianto’s shoulders, bending forward a little. “Any way I can give you back that year?” he asked, only half-jokingly. “You can’t afford to lose even a day in this job.”

“A kiss might work,” Ianto said, adopting a thoughtful expression. “You know what they say about breath and life.” He looked slightly rueful. “As the Night Travellers have amply proven.”

“Giving breath, giving life,” Jack said, and leaned in for a kiss. Ianto sank into it thankfully, his mind shutting up for a few blessed minutes.

Jack finally pulled back and bussed Ianto’s forehead lightly. “So, what’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked, settling on the edge of Ianto’s desk.

“Family,” Ianto said, toying with one of Jack’s suspenders. “Whether it’s worth telling them about my job.”

“What?” Jack asked, eyes widening.

“The Special Ops cover everyone uses,” Ianto added, smiling. “Give me some credit, Jack.”

“Sorry,” Jack said sheepishly. “What did you tell them, if not that?”

“Civil servant,” Ianto said, shrugging. “It was the most generic, boring thing I could think of. No one wants to hear what a civil servant does.”

“Not even off Earth,” Jack agreed. “But why that, why not the Special Ops thing?”

“They wouldn’t believe it,” Ianto said simply. “I know that much about them.”

“They don’t know you,” Jack said flatly.

“To be fair,” Ianto said. “I did take great pains to cut myself off from them.”

“Because you were pushed into it,” Jack growled, and after a moment, added, “Literally!”

Ianto smiled gently at him. “I know. At least I got out of that. I can’t accuse my mother of anything other than being too weak-willed to stand up to Dafydd and Tad, though.”

Jack’s eyes flashed with something unidentifiable, and Ianto reviewed what he’d just said. Then he bit his lip. “Uh -”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Jack said quietly. “But your father was already dead when - that - happened, right?”

Ianto nodded meekly.

“Then what did he -”

“Verbal stuff,” Ianto sighed. “He wanted me to be like Dafydd, who was exactly like him. I wasn’t, obviously, and he never failed to tell me what a disappointment I was.”

Jack snarled something inarticulate, and Ianto felt the white-hot rage sear through his mind before Jack snatched it back and locked it away from him. Shaken, he watched as Jack pushed off from the table, pacing up and down an aisle of cabinets for a few minutes before he finally slowed and came to a stop.

“Jack?” Ianto ventured tentatively, when Jack showed no signs of returning. In response, Jack sighed and tipped his head back, staring up at the cabinet he was standing in front of.

“… This wasn’t here before,” he said.

“Er, no, I just finished that one last week,” Ianto said. “The paper archives are all sorted - I’ve just got three more months to enter into the computer database, and then I can get started labelling the items in storage.”

“But they’re all organised,” Jack said inanely.

“Yes, but I’m the only one who knows how they’re sorted, right now,” Ianto said. “I’m planning on leaving a summary sheet or something so anyone who needs to, knows how to find the items they need.”

“Won’t need it while we have you,” Jack said, still inspecting the cabinet like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Ianto rested his elbow on the table and his cheek on his fist, waiting to see when Jack would give in and look at him.

“Like you said, with this job…” Ianto said, voice trailing off. Jack flinched, but still didn’t turn.

“Not for a while yet,” Jack insisted, his voice a little unsteady. Time for a change in tactics.

“I certainly hope not,” Ianto agreed. “You do know that I’m planning on haunting you as a ghost, don’t you?”

Jack choked out a half-hysterical laugh and finally, finally turned to face Ianto. He still didn’t come over, though, leaning tiredly against the cabinet instead. “I don’t think ghosts exist,” he said quietly.

“What, if evil faeries and alien jellyfish can exist, why not ghosts?” Ianto asked, shrugging. “Maybe ghosts are just smart enough not to get caught by humans. Don’t worry though, I’ll find a way to let you know I’m there.” He paused. “Maybe not when you’re showering. Or changing. Or jerking off. Enjoy the show while I can.”

Jack’s mind slowly relaxed against his, letting him in slowly, in bits and pieces, like water slowly trickling through a dam. The moment of berserker fury had been completely tamed, and the sadness at the reminder of Ianto’s mortality was gradually lifting. Ianto curled up in his mind, reassuringly there.

“Maybe I could leave myself in your mind,” he suggested absently.

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“You know, like Spock,” Ianto elaborated.

The other eyebrow went up. “Wait, Spock?” Jack asked, starting to smile. “I’ve heard that name before. Who’s that?”

Ianto looked at Jack and rolled his eyes. “You’ve never watched Star Trek, have you,” he said, mock-sighing.

“Should I have?” Jack asked, sticking his hands in his pockets and wandering over.

“Possibly,” Ianto said doubtfully. “Possibly not. I’m not sure you need to be getting any ideas from Kirk.”

“Ideas on…?”

“Getting into life-threatening situations,” Ianto said dryly. “Somehow mysteriously losing his shirt in every fight he gets into. Flirting with anything with a pulse.”

“I do that perfectly fine on my own, thanks,” Jack interrupted.

“And some things without,” Ianto added. Jack swatted the back of his head, then cupped his neck and pulled Ianto into a thoroughly unexpected kiss.

“I’m not complaining,” Ianto said when they pulled apart. “But why…?”

“I was just thinking,” Jack said slowly. “If you hadn’t wanted to get away from your family, you wouldn’t have gone to London when you did, and you wouldn’t have been found by Torchwood and you wouldn’t have ended up here.”

“We might never have met,” Ianto said. “I might be an embittered bastard by now.”

“Bit young for that,” Jack said, smiling slightly.

“I have one word for you,” Ianto said. “Owen.”

“Oi,” Jack protested weakly.

“Oh, he’s a brilliant doctor and a good friend, if even more socially inept than me,” Ianto said. “But you can’t deny he’s a bitter person.”

Jack blew out a heavy breath and didn’t comment.

“I think,” Ianto said hesitantly. “I think - Lisa helped me get past that. Sometimes I think that’s why I was so desperate to believe I could get her back. She was proof that I could have a better life, something not like what Tad or Dafydd expected of me.”

“And I think,” Jack broke in, smiling ruefully. “That I love her a little for that.” He took Ianto’s hand in a loose grip, returning to his perch on Ianto’s desk. “She didn’t define you, but she showed you what you could be. You were in love with her and she made you happy. I’m thankful for that.”

Ianto squeezed Jack’s hand mutely.

“Of course,” Jack added. “I’m also - er, there’s no good way of phrasing this, is there?”

“I’m glad we’re here, too,” Ianto said quietly. “I wish I hadn’t been so stupid back then, but -”

“But here we are,” Jack murmured.

“Here we are,” Ianto echoed. The silence hung comfortably around them for a while before Jack finally sighed and shifted, moving closer to Ianto.

“So, what are you going to do about your family?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” Ianto said, laying his head on Jack’s lap. Jack’s free hand came up and he started petting Ianto’s hair in a near-hypnotic rhythm. “I think I should, if only so they know they won’t get my - you know.”

“Body,” Jack filled in sombrely. Ianto made a sound of agreement.

“I don’t think I can give you the entire day off,” Jack said regretfully. “But maybe an afternoon or something? With the understanding you’re still on call?”

“Might be better,” Ianto said, sighing. “Think you can invent a catastrophe if I want to get out of there?”

Jack laughed, messing up Ianto’s dark hair. “Sure,” he said. “Just give me a shout-out. And you know, I’ll be there if you need me.”

Ianto smiled into the fabric of Jack’s trousers. “I know.”

It took surprisingly little time to sort out when he’d be going over. Bronwyn, his mother, was all sorts of eager to see him (had it really been years?) and assured him that Dafydd wouldn’t be at the house that day. His stepfather would in all likelihood be there, and Rhiannon had also insisted on coming over when she’d found out. She was bringing Johnny with her - at least the kids were going to be left with a babysitter.

He’d reminded them repeatedly that he might still be called back to work, but Rhiannon had brushed off the possibility. It wasn’t, he had to admit, usual that a civil servant would have to stay on call. He wondered what would happen and how his family would react to his little revelation.

It was a couple of hours after lunch when he arrived. He’d eaten with Jack, who’d given him a hug and a kiss for luck before he’d left. It had to be public transport, of course, seeing as he still hadn’t replaced his car. He used the ride to marshal his thoughts and pull together his calmest, most serene mask.

The actual reunion was exactly as awkward as he’d expected it to be. Having Rhiannon there proved to be a blessing, because she immediately took control of the conversation. They spent an hour or so in idle chatter, his mother and sister taking the chance to update him on their lives. Every time they asked him about his own life, he deflected, trying to summon up the courage to tell them what he was there for. Rhiannon and Bronwyn exchanged peculiar glances every time he did, though - what were those about?

Then Jack called to tell Ianto that they had a big, uncontained case and that they’d need him in on it. The plan was to swing by and pick him up on the way to the edge of the Brecon Beacons (and wasn’t everyone just thrilled to be going back there?). Ianto agreed and hung up and then spent another few minutes deflecting about why he couldn’t just say no to his boss. Eventually though, he realised he’d just have to bite the bullet, and so dove straight in.

“There’s something I need to tell you, actually,” Ianto said, then watched in bewilderment as his family gave each other knowing looks. Johnny seemed somewhat uncomfortable, though amused.

“We know, Ianto,” Rhiannon said gently. Ianto blinked, touching Jack’s mind to show him the past few seconds, simultaneously opening his hearing to his lover.

“You know what?” he asked cautiously. There was no way they could have found out he worked for Torchwood, so what was Rhiannon on about?

“That you’re - well - seeing a guy,” she said, her voice dropping as if it were a secret.

“I’m - what?” Ianto said faintly. The explosion of hilarity in his head did not help, and he sent a reproving jab of annoyance at Jack’s mind. Jack promptly sobered up and sent a feeling of contrition, albeit one still tinged with amusement.

“Well, Janice was telling me, she heard from Anwen that Mai saw you with a man a week or so ago, at a restaurant,” Rhiannon explained.

In the house that I built, Jack put in helpfully.

“She said it looked intimate,” his mother added.

Yes or no? They might want to meet you, Ianto said. He wasn’t exactly sure whether he wanted to inflict his family on Jack - or the other way around, for that matter.

Up to you, Jack said. I’m fine either way. There was no deceit in the words.

“Ain’t no woman getting her leg round that table, she said,” Rhiannon was saying.

“So is it true then?” Johnny butted in. “You’ve gone and turned queer?” Ianto barely had time to open his mouth before his mother and sister were both chorusing at Johnny to sit down and be quiet. Evidently, they’d already had this discussion. At least Johnny didn’t seem disgusted, per se, (and it was a good thing Dafydd wasn’t there) but it was obvious he couldn’t fathom how a man could love another man. As Jack lamented 21st Century inflexibility, Ianto reviewed the past month - when had he and Jack gone to a restaurant?

Must have been that French place, he mused, and Jack sent a feeling of agreement. They hadn’t exactly had time lately to do much of anything outside the Hub, so that was really the only possibility. It had been a couple of days after the incident with the Night Travellers; Jack had insisted on their going out when he’d realised Ianto wasn’t feeling any better. And seeing as Ianto had been upset and Jack had been trying to comfort him, they hadn’t been as circumspect as they usually were when out and about. It would have been easy to jump to all the right conclusions if someone had seen them then.

“She said he was really good-looking,” Rhiannon was saying eagerly. “Is he really?”

Say yes, say yes!

“Well, first off, I’d like to explain something,” Ianto began, ignoring Jack’s mental pout. “My sexuality wasn’t actually what I wanted to talk about.”

There was an awkward silence. “It… wasn’t?” Rhiannon finally asked sheepishly.

“Nope,” Ianto said. “What I wanted to say is that I’ve been lying about my job.”

“What d’you mean?” William asked, frowning.

“As long as it’s not illegal,” someone commented from behind him. Before the first syllable had been completed, Ianto had stiffened.

“Far from it,” he replied coolly as Dafydd walked around him and into view. Jack had picked up on the tension suddenly radiating from Ianto’s mind and was listening guardedly through his ears.

“What are you talking about?” Bronwyn asked.

“I used the civil servant cover,” Ianto explained, ignoring his brother and very deliberately keeping his face blank. “Because I didn’t want you to worry, but - well, certain things happened to change my mind about that. So. I work for Special Ops. I can’t actually tell you what we do, since it’s classified, but we’re a very specialised group, even amongst Special Ops.”

“You,” Dafydd said in disbelief. “Special Ops.”

“Yep,” Ianto affirmed quietly. “Doesn’t matter to me if you believe me or not.” He looked at Rhiannon. “I wanted to tell you, just… in case.”

“In case what?” Rhiannon asked, eyes wide.

Ianto bit his lip. “One of my team-mates recently had a - uh, close shave, I suppose you could say. And now we’ve just closed a pretty bad case. Puts things in perspective a bit. Our job isn’t exactly safe, so if - something happens - I at least wanted you to know why.”

“Is it that dangerous?” Bronwyn asked, paling rapidly. “Ianto, you should quit, if that’s what it’s like.”

Ianto thought about Cell 114, about Abaddon, the Cybermen, the Daleks. He thought about Joe’s bloom, Misty, the space whale, Myfanwy. He thought about Suzie and Evan, Owen and Naomi. And Jack.

“It’s dangerous,” he allowed. “But it’s also wonderful. I won’t leave, Mam. I don’t think I could.”

“But Ianto, if -” Rhiannon began uncertainly.

“It’s not all bad,” Ianto cut in. “Sometimes it’s dangerous, but the things I get to see, to learn -” he broke off, eyes distant. “You have no idea. I love this job. And the team, they’re family. Wouldn’t give Tosh up for the world.”

Hey!

“Tosh your boyfriend?” Dafydd asked. His tone was - oddly - not as confrontational as Ianto had expected it to be.

“Tosh is a very sweet girl with, as I have come to discover, a slightly warped mentality,” Ianto corrected, hearing Jack laugh in his head.

I’m telling her you said that!

What are you, five? Go ahead - I’ve told her as much before.

That takes the fun out of it. ETA, two minutes.

“Girlfriend?” Dafydd asked, startled. “I thought you were - uh, gay.”

“Is it that difficult for you to conceive of two people being good friends without being romantically involved?” Ianto asked pointedly. Dafydd frowned at him and was about to say something when their mother interrupted.

“But Ianto, this job -” she began.

“I’m not leaving it, Mam,” Ianto reiterated firmly. “I’m just telling you now that unless I step out for milk tomorrow and get run over by a truck, I will likely die in the line of duty. Also, due to the nature of our work, you probably won’t ever find out the COD, and you won’t get my body back. So now you know.” He got up, straightening his tie instinctively. If he concentrated, he could hear the SUV’s powerful engine approaching, sounding completely out of place in the quiet suburban region.

“And you’re leaving already?” Rhiannon squawked.

“Well,” Ianto said thoughtfully. “You know how it is. Work to do.” He smiled faintly and opened the door. Jack was laughing in his head at his bland delivery of what had turned, for them, into a code-phrase signalling imminent sex.

“That’s polite,” Rhiannon huffed. The SUV pulled up outside the house, engine idling.

“The job doesn’t much leave room for politeness,” Ianto sighed. “Unless I’m talking to Elizabeth, of course. Oh, and by the way?” He winked at her. “He is very handsome.”

Thank you!

And, leaving his family gawping after him, he stepped out of the house with a jaunty wave, and climbed into the SUV.

“You enjoyed that way too much,” Jack said accusingly, gunning the engine and pulling a reckless, maniacal, and completely illegal U-turn on the street. Ianto braced himself, ignoring the yelps from the back.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” he said placidly. Jack took his eyes off the road just long enough to share a grin with his lover.

“So, what do we have?” Ianto asked curiously.

“Owen took the call so naturally we didn’t get as much information as we should have,” Tosh said, and Ianto blinked rapidly in bemusement. What had Owen done to Tosh, to get that kind of annoyance directed at him? And from Tosh, of all people! He’d thought they’d been getting along fairly well recently.

I think he’s convinced himself - again - that Tosh didn’t mean what she said before, Jack supplied.

Every time I think he couldn’t possibly treat her worse, Ianto sighed, only half-listening as Tosh explained what they knew. Ugly alien, eating pets, terrifying locals, etcetera. Bit of a Retcon job ahead of them, looked like, and some poor, innocent wild animal would be getting the blame for the attacks.

I think he’s scared, Jack offered in defence. And thinking it’s too late anyway.

Oh, absolutely, Ianto agreed idly. Which I sort of sympathise with, but not when he’s hurting Tosh.

“They’ve managed to corral everyone who’s seen the alien,” Tosh was saying.

“Should make it easier to Retcon them,” Ianto commented. Besides, even I sucked it up eventually and - well.

Stopwatch, Jack said fondly. Wonderful thing, that. How do you manage to keep your attention on two conversations at once? Most people can’t.

“No, Owen, you may not,” Ianto said firmly to Owen’s suggestion that he interview the kid who’d witnessed her pet cat get eaten. “Your bedside manner leaves much to be desired.” It’s called multi-tasking.

“Whereas if Mischa and David are anything to go by -” Jack teased. Multi-tasking, huh? Well, you are very good at doing a lot of things at once.

“They are hellions in disguise, not kids,” Ianto insisted. “Besides, Naomi likes me.” It’s all about keeping track of things. I find making lists quite a useful aid.

“For which I think Angela wants to adopt you,” Jack said, nodding in agreement. Order pizza, check. Feed Myfanwy, check. Save the world, check. Fuck Jack till he can’t see straight -

As soon as we get home, Ianto broke in, lacing the thought with a good deal of lust. The SUV swerved out of the lane momentarily, and the others yelped in surprise.

“Well, it’s a good thing there wasn’t anyone driving nearby,” Ianto observed.

“I think everyone in Cardiff has learned to flee for their lives once they see the Torchwood logo,” Tosh grumbled. Ianto frowned - beneath the grumpiness, Tosh sounded quite upset.

Tomorrow, Jack said. We can wait.

Ianto sent him a wordless feeling of gratitude. “By the way, Tosh - thought about what to watch?”

“Oh!” Tosh said, and even without looking, Ianto knew she was glancing between him and Jack. He’d told her about going to see his family and she’d offered to postpone their get-together if he felt he needed to talk to Jack afterwards. “I thought…”

“We never do anything on Fridays,” Jack said with a grin. “For some reason, Ianto always disappears on me. I suspect he might be having an affair.”

“You know how it is,” Ianto sighed. “Sometimes you just need to spend time with a woman.”

“Like Dora,” Jack said, nodding. Gwen squeaked, and even Owen seemed temporarily at a loss for words.

“She is sweet,” Ianto agreed. “And I’ll have to go visit her again soon. So, Tosh?”

“I thought - ‘Ocean’s Eleven,’” she said faintly.

“Good choice,” Ianto said approvingly. “I’ve watched it, uh, six times now I think, and I’m still not sick of it.”

“Only my third,” Tosh said, grinning. “Brilliant, isn’t it?”

“Absolute genius,” Ianto confirmed with a nod.

“I haven’t watched this,” Jack said, frowning.

“You’re a movie plebeian. Of course you haven’t,” Ianto said. Jack reached over without taking his eyes off the road, and slapped Ianto’s arm.

“21st Century movies are too loud,” he grumbled.

“As opposed to?” Owen asked. Ianto glanced at Jack, who’d stuck his tongue out at nothing in particular.

“Everything,” Jack said flippantly. “I think it’s a symptom of this time. Everything has to be bigger, brighter, faster, flashier -”

“Louder,” Ianto put in.

“Exactly,” Jack said, nodding. “Give me silent movies any day.”

“Even ignoring the fact that if you say you don’t like big, bright, loud and flashy, you’re saying you don’t like yourself,” Ianto began sceptically, then paused to let the hilarity erupting behind him die down. Jack’s bottom lip was sticking out in a thoroughly adorable pout. “Where exactly does opera fit into this?”

Jack grinned suddenly. “Exception to every rule,” he said, and Ianto shook his head in disbelief.

“Opera?” Gwen asked curiously.

You tell her, Jack said. Ianto did the mental equivalent of blowing Jack a raspberry, then said, “Jack’s a huge opera buff. And musicals, for that matter. Put it on stage, get someone singing, and he’ll love it.”

“If it’s good,” Jack added.

“If it’s good,” Ianto parroted. “And believe me, he can get very technical.”

“You criticise one lyric coloratura soprano and you’re marked for life,” Jack grumbled. “Her vibrato wasn’t the best in that performance, all right? I’ve heard her do better - and the melismas were a tad breathless at times, you know? That song needed a very delicate, light touch, and she was falling just short.”

“Yes, Jack,” Ianto said, in exactly the right kind of long-suffering tone to send Gwen and Tosh into silent giggles in the back. Even Owen seemed amused, though of course he wouldn’t lower himself to giggling.

Jack pouted again.

Part Fourteen