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d8rkmessngrAuthor: d8rkmessngr
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: uh...I'm afraid this is rather gratuitous as the fic extends the camping one more day. It's more about Janto than the episode I'm afraid. Sorry.
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are parallels to TW's "Countrycide"
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13,Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18. Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 24 – "Countrycide"
Act I
One week later…
"Drinking?" Jack repeated. He stared at Gwen, unsure he had heard correctly.
Gwen, while her more personal and human insight was an added plus to their investigations, had the tendency to attack any situation with a more normal approach that could be downright scary at times. She refused to see the exceptions to the rule.
"You think we should go out drinking," Jack said once more, slowly. "Because everyone in here seems…tense? Isn't that a recipe for a bar brawl?" Not that he would mind. Jack hadn't been in a bar brawl since…oh…1899? Jack had some of the most violently, gratifying se—
Jack shifted in his seat. He wasn't proud of who he was back then. The Doctor had a strong word for it and upon reflection, Jack had to agree. He cleared his throat.
"You think getting everyone soused will…" Jack framed the air with his fingers in a quotation marks gesture, "help? Because I really don't look good with a black eye."
Gwen shot him an exasperated look. "Yes, I think it would help."
"Gwen, if anything, I think drinking will only aggravate the situation." Jack grimaced. "Trust me, drunken, sexually frustrated people and glass bottles so do not mix. You don't know how many times I—" Jack stop when Gwen raised an eyebrow.
"Voice of experience, Captain?"
Jack flashed a toothy grin. "I don't kiss and tell."
Gwen rolled her eyes. "Since when?" she muttered. Gwen gestured behind her at the Hub beyond the office.
"Look, something needs to be done. Everyone's on edge with Ianto and obviously he hasn't been coping well since Lisa."
Jack frowned and leaned a little to look past her. Tosh was quietly working at her station, Owen could be heard doing an autopsy on a Weevil they found floating facedown in an abandoned building, and Ianto…
"Reception desk," Gwen answered Jack's furrowed brow. "Except for his duties, he's usually just up there, Jack."
Jack sat back, his lips pressed thin. Ianto never said anything to him; then again, they both hadn't said much of anything these days, except for the occasional coffee inquiry. He missed their talks, silly as they sometimes were. Jack realized he woke up that day alone and hadn't seen Ianto since. The realization made his throat tighten.
"Owen barely talks to him, Tosh and I have tried to get him to go out to lunch with us but nothing, and you…" Gwen paused at Jack's look but plowed forward.
"You and Ianto had seemed to get along well in the beginning but after Lisa…" At Jack's changing expression, she switched gears. "Then it seemed like things were sorted between you two and now…" Gwen shrugged. "What's going on, Jack? What's changed?"
Everything, Jack thought, but he cleared his throat instead. "What Ianto did—"
"Was horrible, I know. He could have killed us all, but he chose to stay with us despite everything." Gwen dropped her hands on his desk and leaned forward. Her dark eyes looked at him intently. "He did it for Lisa, Jack. He did it because he couldn't stand the thought of living without her. I…Can you imagine how much pain he must be going through right now? To not have the one you love by your side no matter what you do?"
Jack briefly looked over to the jar by his desk. A phantom sensation of fingers dancing on the back of his head made him shudder.
"Yeah," Jack said sadly. His shoulders slumped. "I can." He shook his head. Bitterness collected in his throat and even a drink of lukewarm coffee didn't wash it down.
"Okay, I get it, but us going out for drinks isn't going to resolve things. Trust me, Ianto does not make a pretty drunk." Actually, he made an adorable one and damn if Jack couldn't erase the sensation of his palm cupped over the back of Ianto's firm rear while the younger man mumbled insensibly all the way to his flat.
Jack held up a hand before Gwen could protest. "I think it's time Ianto gets field experience anyway so…" Jack pulled out the folder from the bottom of his pile; his paperwork never seemed to end.
Gwen scanned it quickly. She raised her startled gaze at him.
"Brecon Beacons?"
"Sixteen disappearances within a twenty mile radius of each other in the past five months." Jack nodded towards the folder. "Things have been coming up here in Cardiff so there was never a chance to investigate, but if it's slow enough for us to go out for drinks tonight, why not a trip to the countryside tomorrow?"
Gwen brightened. "Oh, that might be a lovely idea; like a sort of team building exercise. We could chat by the fire, make smores. I'll let Rhys know I won't be home tomorrow." She handed back the folder to Jack and left the office.
Jack blinked after her, confused. "Smores?" he echoed.
Coming up the hidden corridor next to the Tourist office, Jack was beginning to doubt his decision. Camping? Stuck in a tent with Ianto not in a suit?
Jack groaned and he stopped in his tracks. He leaned against the wall and sighed.
Gwen was right. Jack was blind—whether deliberate or not—to Ianto's pain over Lisa. Jack was being obtuse to the very fact that grief was walking alongside Ianto Jones, not Jack. And Jack had been oblivious—again, he wasn't sure if it was deliberate or not—or naïve to think that just being there and ignoring what had happened between them before in the hopes that things went back to the status quo.
Idiot.
Jack thumped his head against the wall he was leaning on. He probably hit too hard because his surroundings actually spun a little before it settled.
He hadn't slept a whole night like he did with Ianto curled behind him in a very long time. It felt like the younger man was shoring him up, a wall of sandbags barricading him from destructive waves. Ianto was around him like a warm blanket, warmer than any hearth he'd ever known. The ache in him was absent and it was disorienting to wake up without the feeling of empty, hollow pain in his gut and chest. And it was an alien feeling to rouse and not feel sleep deprived and limb heavy for once. Jack had actually laid there, blinking in the dark, wondering where and when he was, if everything had been just a horrific dream. The feel of Ianto pressed against him oddly didn't bring up any internal alarms, just drowsy contentment.
Illusion. All an illusion. It was just Ianto Jones in his usual sensitive and generous way like he was in London. He gave everything to Lisa and spared some to Jack.
He shouldn't read more into that.
The low grinding was quickly followed by Ianto's hushed voice.
"Jack?"
Jack turned and grinned sheepishly. The younger man stood in the middle of the hallway, his brow furrowed.
"How did you know I was in here?" Jack wanted to know as Ianto strolled down to lean on the opposite wall in front of him.
Ianto nodded at the wall behind Jack. "CCTV." Ianto tilted his head. "What were you doing hiding in here?"
Jack gave him a scowl. "I wasn't hiding! I was…thinking."
A quick turn to the left and then right. Ianto raised an eyebrow at him.
"Couldn't you have done your thinking in some place more furnished?"
"You should talk!" Jack retorted.
Ianto flushed, lowered his head a little and he scratched the bottom of his jaw. Jack found himself entranced.
"Yes, well, I'm trying to remedy that." At Jack's puzzled expression, Ianto clarified. "I've received a check for my relocation. A stipend from Torchwood." Ianto smiled faintly at him.
Oh. Now it was Jack's turn to lower his head. "Well, they gave me a stipend, I thought…" Jack shrugged. When he looked up, Ianto was still smiling. Jack found himself smiling back.
"Well, I guess I have you to thank for my good fortune then," Ianto murmured. "Any recommendations on how to proceed?"
Jack grimaced, remembering the tiny fold-out seats. "Real chairs would be nice."
Ianto chuckled. He sobered and gave Jack a speculative look.
"So really, what are you doing here?"
Damn. Jack coughed into his fist. "Yeah, about that…"
"Um hm?"
The accented murmur made his stomach quiver. Ianto sounded just like that after Jack had kissed down his firm stomach, down his bare hip, and trailed all the way to his—
"Jack?"
Jack gulped and forced himself to match Ianto's curious gaze.
"We're going out in the field tomorrow."
Ianto nodded, his posture already posed to take notes. "What do you want for tomorrow?"
Jack grinned, teeth flashing. "You, actually."
"Pardon?" Ianto's voice went up an octave.
Okay, maybe not the best way of putting it.
Ianto looked around the shooting range, his mouth pursed. The paper targets in the distance were both amusing and intimidating.
Jack had explained that he wanted Ianto to join their field operation. It was comical to see Jack waving his hands in a frantic attempt to explain himself after nearly giving Ianto a coronary—because he was mortified to find himself not repulsed by what Jack said at all. And that was not helpful considering his mind was already a soup of confusing thoughts since waking up against Jack.
"We should try the hand guns first," Jack mused. His right hand hovered over them before selecting one.
"I had weapons training when I was in London," Ianto reminded Jack as the other circled the weapons' table with an eye like a connoisseur, a finger to his pursed lips. Jack had shed his coat, his sleeves rolled up, his braces pulled off and swaying lightly, framing his buttocks perfectly.
Ianto hastily averted his eyes before he was caught staring.
"True, but only of the standard issue," Jack murmured, his eyes studying the table. He leaned over, practically bending over the table as he reached for one. "But I rather you're comfortable with all types." His trousers stretched across tight, round—oh good God.
Ianto swallowed. He had been trying very hard not to mentally wander into far confusing territories he was utterly unprepared for. He had woken up that night from a particularly heated dream about Lisa, only to find, to his mortification, that he was half-hard and just shy from humping his boss in his sleep.
That had effectively deflated him and ever since, Ianto had been trying hard to see Jack as just Jack, his employer, his friend, his male friend, and oh, did he mention that he was his employer? Ianto didn't think he was gay. He didn't have the least bit of an inkling to snog Owen—thank God—or any other male for that matter but then what about Jack?
And what about that night? Ianto resisted dropping his face in his hands. Despite what Jack thought, it wasn't horrible, it wasn't terrible at all. In fact, he couldn't stop thinking about it. It felt so unfair to Lisa.
At the thought of Lisa, Ianto's stomach grew cold. Already, it took too long to remember her trailing touches on his skin, her smile when she spoke his name. It'd only been weeks, barely two months since Lisa died. Although, a gloomy voice whispered, Lisa had already been dead since Canary Wharf.
Nausea twisted inside Ianto and he covered his mouth with his hand and fought the urge to vomit.
"You okay?" Jack had paused, looking over.
"Not really," Ianto muttered.
"What?" Jack looked at him perplexed, the handgun in his extended hand.
Ianto hastily recovered by grabbing the weapon. He could feel his face growing hot.
"Just point and shoot," Jack joked lightly. He gestured to the paper targets. "Only, point that way, please?"
Ianto rolled his eyes, extended out his arm and targeted the closest paper bulls-eye. He aimed and fired. "I think I'm wasting your tim—"
The weapon jerked and it felt like someone pushed him, shoved him really. The recoil surprised him and he lost his footing. Ianto fell back with a yelp.
Jack's hands caught him by the arms, his chest warm against the small of Ianto's back.
"Careful." Jack's throaty voice rumbled in Ianto’s ear and sent shivers down his entire body. "It has a bit of a kick."
"I noticed," Ianto said shakily. He was afraid to turn. He could feel Jack's breath on him and he could feel his heart hammering hard in his chest. Plus, he really, really hoped that was Jack's sidearm pressed against his lower back. "Perhaps I-I should use both arms then?" Ianto stepped away and handed Jack the weapon. "A little demonstration first?" He needed to sit down before his knees buckled. Jack's body heat had tattooed itself to his body. It felt like the captain had never left.
As Jack patiently explained positioning—the word choice was going to drive Ianto mad—and how to fire, Ianto took the opportunity to study Jack surreptitiously.
It wasn't that Jack was ugly; even a man would be hard pressed to ignore the fact that Jack Harkness was undeniably attractive. But there was nothing really that stood out to Ianto as the culprit that lured a reasonably heterosexual man—least Ianto thought he was—to have lecherous thoughts about their male employer.
Ianto supposed, as he watched Jack drawing up the gun to line up with the target, coming across Jack exiting out of the innocuous blue police box might have added an air of mystery that simply made Jack all the more interesting. He was pleasant enough; his torso and legs were well proportioned, shoulders not too broad, nothing too angular. Jack wasn't effeminate either, which would have settled Ianto's misgivings and excused him as simply missing Lisa, but no. No, unfortunately, Jack was very masculine, yet there was something about him that just made Jack appealing. The man was simply a walking advert for sex.
Damn it.
Ianto smiled briefly as Jack explained the recoil. He really should be paying attention for the field operation tomorrow. He suspected the reasoning to suddenly having him on the field was noble rather than practical. Ianto didn't mind. The reliable mind numbing routine he'd depended on after London was lacking and left him feeling too empty. The hollow feeling he woke to each morning was beginning to physically hurt.
Jack aimed and fired a perfect round dead center to the farthest target. His arms bulged to compensate the recoil, his buttocks visibly flexed within his trousers to prevent any stumbling. When done, he pulled off the dampening headphones and grinned at Ianto with a giddy air of a boy.
It was a good thing Ianto was sitting down, otherwise he would have become a puddle right there.
"Well?" Jack waggled his eyebrows as he walked over and handed Ianto the next handgun to try. "What do you think?"
What did he think? That tomorrow's camping excursion was going to be a terrible idea.
Act II
Additional Notes: Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: uh...I'm afraid this is rather gratuitous as the fic extends the camping one more day. It's more about Janto than the episode I'm afraid. Sorry.
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are parallels to TW's "Countrycide"
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13,Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18. Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 24 – "Countrycide"
Act I
One week later…
"Drinking?" Jack repeated. He stared at Gwen, unsure he had heard correctly.
Gwen, while her more personal and human insight was an added plus to their investigations, had the tendency to attack any situation with a more normal approach that could be downright scary at times. She refused to see the exceptions to the rule.
"You think we should go out drinking," Jack said once more, slowly. "Because everyone in here seems…tense? Isn't that a recipe for a bar brawl?" Not that he would mind. Jack hadn't been in a bar brawl since…oh…1899? Jack had some of the most violently, gratifying se—
Jack shifted in his seat. He wasn't proud of who he was back then. The Doctor had a strong word for it and upon reflection, Jack had to agree. He cleared his throat.
"You think getting everyone soused will…" Jack framed the air with his fingers in a quotation marks gesture, "help? Because I really don't look good with a black eye."
Gwen shot him an exasperated look. "Yes, I think it would help."
"Gwen, if anything, I think drinking will only aggravate the situation." Jack grimaced. "Trust me, drunken, sexually frustrated people and glass bottles so do not mix. You don't know how many times I—" Jack stop when Gwen raised an eyebrow.
"Voice of experience, Captain?"
Jack flashed a toothy grin. "I don't kiss and tell."
Gwen rolled her eyes. "Since when?" she muttered. Gwen gestured behind her at the Hub beyond the office.
"Look, something needs to be done. Everyone's on edge with Ianto and obviously he hasn't been coping well since Lisa."
Jack frowned and leaned a little to look past her. Tosh was quietly working at her station, Owen could be heard doing an autopsy on a Weevil they found floating facedown in an abandoned building, and Ianto…
"Reception desk," Gwen answered Jack's furrowed brow. "Except for his duties, he's usually just up there, Jack."
Jack sat back, his lips pressed thin. Ianto never said anything to him; then again, they both hadn't said much of anything these days, except for the occasional coffee inquiry. He missed their talks, silly as they sometimes were. Jack realized he woke up that day alone and hadn't seen Ianto since. The realization made his throat tighten.
"Owen barely talks to him, Tosh and I have tried to get him to go out to lunch with us but nothing, and you…" Gwen paused at Jack's look but plowed forward.
"You and Ianto had seemed to get along well in the beginning but after Lisa…" At Jack's changing expression, she switched gears. "Then it seemed like things were sorted between you two and now…" Gwen shrugged. "What's going on, Jack? What's changed?"
Everything, Jack thought, but he cleared his throat instead. "What Ianto did—"
"Was horrible, I know. He could have killed us all, but he chose to stay with us despite everything." Gwen dropped her hands on his desk and leaned forward. Her dark eyes looked at him intently. "He did it for Lisa, Jack. He did it because he couldn't stand the thought of living without her. I…Can you imagine how much pain he must be going through right now? To not have the one you love by your side no matter what you do?"
Jack briefly looked over to the jar by his desk. A phantom sensation of fingers dancing on the back of his head made him shudder.
"Yeah," Jack said sadly. His shoulders slumped. "I can." He shook his head. Bitterness collected in his throat and even a drink of lukewarm coffee didn't wash it down.
"Okay, I get it, but us going out for drinks isn't going to resolve things. Trust me, Ianto does not make a pretty drunk." Actually, he made an adorable one and damn if Jack couldn't erase the sensation of his palm cupped over the back of Ianto's firm rear while the younger man mumbled insensibly all the way to his flat.
Jack held up a hand before Gwen could protest. "I think it's time Ianto gets field experience anyway so…" Jack pulled out the folder from the bottom of his pile; his paperwork never seemed to end.
Gwen scanned it quickly. She raised her startled gaze at him.
"Brecon Beacons?"
"Sixteen disappearances within a twenty mile radius of each other in the past five months." Jack nodded towards the folder. "Things have been coming up here in Cardiff so there was never a chance to investigate, but if it's slow enough for us to go out for drinks tonight, why not a trip to the countryside tomorrow?"
Gwen brightened. "Oh, that might be a lovely idea; like a sort of team building exercise. We could chat by the fire, make smores. I'll let Rhys know I won't be home tomorrow." She handed back the folder to Jack and left the office.
Jack blinked after her, confused. "Smores?" he echoed.
Coming up the hidden corridor next to the Tourist office, Jack was beginning to doubt his decision. Camping? Stuck in a tent with Ianto not in a suit?
Jack groaned and he stopped in his tracks. He leaned against the wall and sighed.
Gwen was right. Jack was blind—whether deliberate or not—to Ianto's pain over Lisa. Jack was being obtuse to the very fact that grief was walking alongside Ianto Jones, not Jack. And Jack had been oblivious—again, he wasn't sure if it was deliberate or not—or naïve to think that just being there and ignoring what had happened between them before in the hopes that things went back to the status quo.
Idiot.
Jack thumped his head against the wall he was leaning on. He probably hit too hard because his surroundings actually spun a little before it settled.
He hadn't slept a whole night like he did with Ianto curled behind him in a very long time. It felt like the younger man was shoring him up, a wall of sandbags barricading him from destructive waves. Ianto was around him like a warm blanket, warmer than any hearth he'd ever known. The ache in him was absent and it was disorienting to wake up without the feeling of empty, hollow pain in his gut and chest. And it was an alien feeling to rouse and not feel sleep deprived and limb heavy for once. Jack had actually laid there, blinking in the dark, wondering where and when he was, if everything had been just a horrific dream. The feel of Ianto pressed against him oddly didn't bring up any internal alarms, just drowsy contentment.
Illusion. All an illusion. It was just Ianto Jones in his usual sensitive and generous way like he was in London. He gave everything to Lisa and spared some to Jack.
He shouldn't read more into that.
The low grinding was quickly followed by Ianto's hushed voice.
"Jack?"
Jack turned and grinned sheepishly. The younger man stood in the middle of the hallway, his brow furrowed.
"How did you know I was in here?" Jack wanted to know as Ianto strolled down to lean on the opposite wall in front of him.
Ianto nodded at the wall behind Jack. "CCTV." Ianto tilted his head. "What were you doing hiding in here?"
Jack gave him a scowl. "I wasn't hiding! I was…thinking."
A quick turn to the left and then right. Ianto raised an eyebrow at him.
"Couldn't you have done your thinking in some place more furnished?"
"You should talk!" Jack retorted.
Ianto flushed, lowered his head a little and he scratched the bottom of his jaw. Jack found himself entranced.
"Yes, well, I'm trying to remedy that." At Jack's puzzled expression, Ianto clarified. "I've received a check for my relocation. A stipend from Torchwood." Ianto smiled faintly at him.
Oh. Now it was Jack's turn to lower his head. "Well, they gave me a stipend, I thought…" Jack shrugged. When he looked up, Ianto was still smiling. Jack found himself smiling back.
"Well, I guess I have you to thank for my good fortune then," Ianto murmured. "Any recommendations on how to proceed?"
Jack grimaced, remembering the tiny fold-out seats. "Real chairs would be nice."
Ianto chuckled. He sobered and gave Jack a speculative look.
"So really, what are you doing here?"
Damn. Jack coughed into his fist. "Yeah, about that…"
"Um hm?"
The accented murmur made his stomach quiver. Ianto sounded just like that after Jack had kissed down his firm stomach, down his bare hip, and trailed all the way to his—
"Jack?"
Jack gulped and forced himself to match Ianto's curious gaze.
"We're going out in the field tomorrow."
Ianto nodded, his posture already posed to take notes. "What do you want for tomorrow?"
Jack grinned, teeth flashing. "You, actually."
"Pardon?" Ianto's voice went up an octave.
Okay, maybe not the best way of putting it.
Ianto looked around the shooting range, his mouth pursed. The paper targets in the distance were both amusing and intimidating.
Jack had explained that he wanted Ianto to join their field operation. It was comical to see Jack waving his hands in a frantic attempt to explain himself after nearly giving Ianto a coronary—because he was mortified to find himself not repulsed by what Jack said at all. And that was not helpful considering his mind was already a soup of confusing thoughts since waking up against Jack.
"We should try the hand guns first," Jack mused. His right hand hovered over them before selecting one.
"I had weapons training when I was in London," Ianto reminded Jack as the other circled the weapons' table with an eye like a connoisseur, a finger to his pursed lips. Jack had shed his coat, his sleeves rolled up, his braces pulled off and swaying lightly, framing his buttocks perfectly.
Ianto hastily averted his eyes before he was caught staring.
"True, but only of the standard issue," Jack murmured, his eyes studying the table. He leaned over, practically bending over the table as he reached for one. "But I rather you're comfortable with all types." His trousers stretched across tight, round—oh good God.
Ianto swallowed. He had been trying very hard not to mentally wander into far confusing territories he was utterly unprepared for. He had woken up that night from a particularly heated dream about Lisa, only to find, to his mortification, that he was half-hard and just shy from humping his boss in his sleep.
That had effectively deflated him and ever since, Ianto had been trying hard to see Jack as just Jack, his employer, his friend, his male friend, and oh, did he mention that he was his employer? Ianto didn't think he was gay. He didn't have the least bit of an inkling to snog Owen—thank God—or any other male for that matter but then what about Jack?
And what about that night? Ianto resisted dropping his face in his hands. Despite what Jack thought, it wasn't horrible, it wasn't terrible at all. In fact, he couldn't stop thinking about it. It felt so unfair to Lisa.
At the thought of Lisa, Ianto's stomach grew cold. Already, it took too long to remember her trailing touches on his skin, her smile when she spoke his name. It'd only been weeks, barely two months since Lisa died. Although, a gloomy voice whispered, Lisa had already been dead since Canary Wharf.
Nausea twisted inside Ianto and he covered his mouth with his hand and fought the urge to vomit.
"You okay?" Jack had paused, looking over.
"Not really," Ianto muttered.
"What?" Jack looked at him perplexed, the handgun in his extended hand.
Ianto hastily recovered by grabbing the weapon. He could feel his face growing hot.
"Just point and shoot," Jack joked lightly. He gestured to the paper targets. "Only, point that way, please?"
Ianto rolled his eyes, extended out his arm and targeted the closest paper bulls-eye. He aimed and fired. "I think I'm wasting your tim—"
The weapon jerked and it felt like someone pushed him, shoved him really. The recoil surprised him and he lost his footing. Ianto fell back with a yelp.
Jack's hands caught him by the arms, his chest warm against the small of Ianto's back.
"Careful." Jack's throaty voice rumbled in Ianto’s ear and sent shivers down his entire body. "It has a bit of a kick."
"I noticed," Ianto said shakily. He was afraid to turn. He could feel Jack's breath on him and he could feel his heart hammering hard in his chest. Plus, he really, really hoped that was Jack's sidearm pressed against his lower back. "Perhaps I-I should use both arms then?" Ianto stepped away and handed Jack the weapon. "A little demonstration first?" He needed to sit down before his knees buckled. Jack's body heat had tattooed itself to his body. It felt like the captain had never left.
As Jack patiently explained positioning—the word choice was going to drive Ianto mad—and how to fire, Ianto took the opportunity to study Jack surreptitiously.
It wasn't that Jack was ugly; even a man would be hard pressed to ignore the fact that Jack Harkness was undeniably attractive. But there was nothing really that stood out to Ianto as the culprit that lured a reasonably heterosexual man—least Ianto thought he was—to have lecherous thoughts about their male employer.
Ianto supposed, as he watched Jack drawing up the gun to line up with the target, coming across Jack exiting out of the innocuous blue police box might have added an air of mystery that simply made Jack all the more interesting. He was pleasant enough; his torso and legs were well proportioned, shoulders not too broad, nothing too angular. Jack wasn't effeminate either, which would have settled Ianto's misgivings and excused him as simply missing Lisa, but no. No, unfortunately, Jack was very masculine, yet there was something about him that just made Jack appealing. The man was simply a walking advert for sex.
Damn it.
Ianto smiled briefly as Jack explained the recoil. He really should be paying attention for the field operation tomorrow. He suspected the reasoning to suddenly having him on the field was noble rather than practical. Ianto didn't mind. The reliable mind numbing routine he'd depended on after London was lacking and left him feeling too empty. The hollow feeling he woke to each morning was beginning to physically hurt.
Jack aimed and fired a perfect round dead center to the farthest target. His arms bulged to compensate the recoil, his buttocks visibly flexed within his trousers to prevent any stumbling. When done, he pulled off the dampening headphones and grinned at Ianto with a giddy air of a boy.
It was a good thing Ianto was sitting down, otherwise he would have become a puddle right there.
"Well?" Jack waggled his eyebrows as he walked over and handed Ianto the next handgun to try. "What do you think?"
What did he think? That tomorrow's camping excursion was going to be a terrible idea.
Act II
Additional Notes: Many thanks to
soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-05-03 05:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-03 07:14 am (UTC)*grins*
no subject
Date: 2008-05-03 07:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-03 08:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-03 01:08 pm (UTC)Hey! Now we know why Jack REALLY doesn't sleep; he's up all night waiting for you to post!
no subject
Date: 2008-05-05 07:48 pm (UTC)Now to the Britishfying...only 2 in act 1:
Firstly, what are smores? We don't have them, or not by that name. Is it toasting marshmallows on a stick?
Secondly, stipend isn't a word that particularly means anything to me, so I don't think we use it here. Is it something like a compensation payout? If you explain the context to me, hopefully I'll be able to come up with the British word for it.
no subject
Date: 2008-05-05 08:17 pm (UTC)As for smores, hmm. it's a marshmellow, chocolate, and graham cracker toasted over a camp fire. We have it on the States as a smores, but, -lol-, I dodn't know the name until I saw it on BBC's living program. :)
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Date: 2008-05-05 08:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-06 01:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-06 05:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-06 06:54 pm (UTC)