Rating: Adults only, for smut
Summary: Ianto and Jack have make-up sex. That's more or less it.
'We need to talk.'
As far as opening lines went, Jack was aware it wasn't his best effort ever, but it would have to do. His planning had been focused on other aspects of this conversation. Ianto placed the last file in the cabinet and turned around.
'Are you firing me?' he asked, without inflection.
'Not unless you want me to. Do you?'
'I don't want anything. There's nothing left to want' Ianto said flatly. There was no anger left in his voice, but Jack remembered it well. Since Lisa died, Ianto had been a shadow, doing his job silently and efficiently and saying little. The worst thing was, Jack couldn't decide if he'd seen him in more depth and colour before or not. He hated the fact that Ianto, whatever his mistakes might have been, was exactly right to feel left out and uncared for. The feeling added to Jack's anger and sense of dislocation.
Now Jack looked at him and looked hard, but he still couldn't remember if that pain had been in Ianto's eyes all the time.
Fresh hot coffee was still on his desk when he sat down every morning. It tasted just the same. The hub was still immaculately clean despite weevils being dragged through it, the pterodactyl knocking furniture over when she was excited, Owen tracking mud in off his shoes, odd experiments being performed in corners, and take-away food cartons being left around. The Rover was loaded and full of petrol. Expense reports were still processed and filed, the archives were still updated, Jack's diary was still kept neat and orderly.
But something was missing. Jack knew exactly what it was without being able to put it into words. Not long ago, he had known that if he was to come in late and soaking wet, Ianto would be there with a towel and a hot donut and dry clothes. If Jack wanted to talk to someone about anything or nothing at any hour of the day, Ianto would be there. If Jack forgot something important, Ianto would remember. If he was in a bad mood Ianto would be the one to shepherd the others out of the way until he felt like dealing with humanity again. If he was hungry there would be food, and if he was tired there would be coffee and some kind of peace and quiet engineered by Ianto out of empty space and sheer efficiency.
All of those things were still true. Ianto hadn't changed the way he did his job, or stopped doing all the small tasks that weren't technically anyone's job. But before, he had felt that Ianto did them because he cared. Now, Jack didn't know if Ianto even cared enough to keep living much longer. The gap in Jack's life was far wider than he realised. Jack was deeply angry, but he still wanted his coffee to be there in the morning, and a lot more than that.
'You won't always feel this way, Ianto. Neither will the others.'
'Maybe not. Three people will still be dead. She will still be gone.'
Jack reached a hand towards him, but Ianto turned his face away.
'I don't want your pity, Sir.'
'This isn't about pity' Jack said with characteristic intensity. He moved closer, trapping Ianto between the wall and the filing cabinet. 'What you did was too stupid for pity. This is about-'
'So go and find yourself someone else to lust after. You won't have to go far I'm sure.' There was bitterness in those words and, Jack thought, not all of it was caused by loss.
'I wasn't finished, Ianto. This is about lust' he moved in again, pressing Ianto against the wall. For a second, Jack paused with just his palm against Ianto's chest. After the space of a breath and a heartbeat he pushed closer. Ianto closed his eyes rather than look at him, but he didn't pull away. Simultaneously, Jack placed a hand along Ianto's jaw and pushed a knee between his thighs. 'It's also about me wanting you back.' Ianto shook his head, eyes still closed tight. Jack stroked his face and waited.
In a little while, Ianto opened his eyes.
'We never... Unless you...' he said quietly.
'No. We never had sex. I never slipped amnesia drugs into your coffee.' Jack leaned in and rested his body against Ianto. 'It'd be an insult to good coffee. But I still want you back. You're too far away and I need you right here.'
'I can't.' Ianto whispered.
'You can' said Jack, against his neck.
'You mean that?' Jack asked. He needed to know.
But some words didn't need to be said. Unspoken sentences hung in the air between them. Jack could feel them there as surely as he could feel Ianto's thigh against his own. I didn't protect her. I didn't protect you from her. After so much pain... There's nothing left. I killed her. I killed her.
'No. I don't' said Ianto. He sounded defeated, as if he'd lost another battle. Jack kissed him slowly and deeply, and was almost- almost- kissed back.
'It's okay' he said, against Ianto's neck. 'I know you're cold and I know you're tired. None of that matters. Just come with me.'
Upstairs in the room Jack lived in, Ianto didn't look around. None of the Torchwood staff except Jack set foot in there. But even before what had happened, Ianto was the only one who wouldn't have stared. He was the only one who genuinely didn't seem to mind where Jack was from or how old he was. Now, his eyes were on Jack, which was an improvement from the defocused stare of the last few weeks.
Jack closed the door. Inside, the room looked like any bedroom in any old terraced row in South Wales. There was no evidence of alien technology. Cream walls, big oak wardrobe, oil heater painted white. The blankets were heavy grey wool and the sheets were white, but Ianto already knew that because he did the laundry once a week. There was a towel hanging carelessly over the back of an old leather armchair. Not so long ago, Ianto would have given him a meaningful look and hung the towel over the heater instead, and probably reached for the leather polish in case the upholstery had been damaged by contact with damp fabric. He would also have said something scathing about coffee cup ring marks on the beautiful old wooden desk, too, but those were covered. Out of a slight sense of Ianto-inspired shame, Jack had piled reports on them a few hours ago. Today he wasn't sure how much Ianto even saw. He moved closer again, pushing Ianto against the wall by the door. Until the first time a few minutes before, Jack hadn't known just how much he'd wanted to do that. Despite the circumstances, it felt good. Very good.
Jack kissed Ianto again, a little more roughly than he intended. His fingers pulled at Ianto's tie, and when it came away he tossed it flamboyantly over his shoulder and across the room. He grinned despite himself.
'Sorry. Not in keeping with the mood and all, but I just had to do that.'
Ianto smiled a weak, pale smile and a tight and fearful place in Jack eased. There you are. I knew you were still alive.
It was easier to touch him after that. He seemed less fragile. Gratefully, Jack unbuttoned his jacket and waistcoat- a waistcoat! he still got a kick out of that- and dropped them on his desk.
He ran his hands over Ianto's arms, taking the time to appreciate the swell and bulk of the tight muscle there. Too tight, maybe. Jack rested his whole body against Ianto's and let his hands wander, sliding and rubbing and exploring. He appreciated the long, smooth curve of the back under his palms and the firm, flat features of Ianto's chest and stomach pressed against his own body. The man was a slightly thinner Ianto than he had been three weeks ago, but now was not the time to dwell on that fact. As before, Jack shifted and maneuvered one of his thighs between Ianto's. This time he was rewarded with a long, ragged sigh and the distinct hard ridge of something even better beginning to dig into his hip. Jack rocked slightly, but his hands stayed above the waist, although they strayed closer around the shirt buttons.
Ianto closed his eyes again, but this time he rested his hands on Jack's waist and that, in Jack's opinion, made all the difference. He wasn't pulling away from the world now. He was still here, in this room. It was the pain he was letting go of.
Jack was surprised to find the braces slipped off his shoulders, and then he understood. This couldn't be long and slow- Ianto didn't have the strength for long and slow, not tonight. He was too tired and too empty to give that much.
But that was okay. Tonight Jack wanted to give, and he wanted to heal. More than anything, he wanted to get the Ianto he knew back, whole and smiling and subtly ironic. And he wanted to wash away the last traces of the accusations Ianto had made. Jack needed to prove to himself and to Ianto that he could care- did care- and could show the world so. There was, as always, the desire to fuck Ianto until he sweated and shuddered and screamed Jack's name, as well. He let his fingers do what they wanted and undid Ianto's shirt buttons. Ianto was doing the same to him, and for a moment they were opposite sides of a mirror.
Jack took back the initiative as soon as his hands were free of his shirtsleeves. Getting out of clothes could be done two ways, if you wanted to do it right. Jack had perfected both and explored a range of others, but he kept coming back to the old favourites, either rough, frenzied and ripping or slow and seductive, all fingertips and kisses. Neither would work right now, so Jack settled on removing Ianto's clothes and his own as quickly and easily as possible. Ianto closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, seeming almost asleep, except for his hands. They found Jack's belt buckle as if drawn there by a magnet.
Gratefully, Jack pushed himself into Ianto's hands. He stepped out of his trousers without breaking the contact, and thrust again. Ianto stumbled, not getting his shoes off easily. Jack dropped to his knees, leaving Ianto bereft of anything to hold. He undid Ianto's shoelaces and removed everything. When he looked up, Ianto was naked and if it wasn't for the expression of loss and fear on his face, Jack would have taken time to appreciate the sight, and a lot more time to appreciate the throbbing cock level with his mouth.
He stood up instead, and Ianto enfolded him tightly.
'It's okay. It's okay' he soothed, rocking and rubbing their bodies together at the same time.
'It's not' Ianto choked.
'But it will be. It'll be better than this. I haven't forgotten what you did and I never will, but I want you back, Ianto, and I'm trying to get you back. Fighting to get you back.' Jack pulled back just enough to slide an arm between their bodies and take both of them in his hand. Ianto gasped and his fingers dug into Jack's back. 'I need to know you're gonna keep fighting for us, Ianto.'
Even as he said it, Jack wasn't sure who he was talking about when he said 'us'. Maybe Torchwood, maybe the team, maybe just the two of them.
'I'm trying, Sir. I really am.' Ianto thrust desperately against him, and Jack knew it was true.