Work Text:
Torchwood Fanfic
Pairing; Ianto/Jack
Spoilers: series one
Return
Jack was sat in his office. Gwen stood by the door, her eyes watchful and considering, she wanted answers to 'why' 'where' 'how', to 'will you stay' and 'can I trust you'. Most of all she wanted to know what had happened. They all understood how tempting, easy, it had been to take off. Ianto and Tosh had both betrayed him by bringing threats into Torchwood. Owen had shot Jack. Gwen had blamed him for her boyfriend's death. They had all committed mutiny against him, resulting in a catastrophic event which could have ended the world and had killed many innocents. Those deaths weighed them down. Tosh and Owen had left hours ago. Gwen's questions went unsaid. She was glad he had come home.
Jack had a question to ask. "Where's Ianto?" Coffee. He needed coffee, Ianto made coffee like no one else on Earth and in the universe. Most of all he needed to know that when Gwen left, he would have someone. Ianto didn't ask questions that made his heart ache and his brain hurt. He healed. Something which, at the time, Jack had taken as much of as possible. Despite not being able to die, he could still hurt.
"He went off home. Or to a bar. That's where he's been going these past weeks. Off to clubs where the drinks are as strong as the come-ons. He never believed you'd come back. Said 'we betrayed him. Would you want to come back to that?'" Gwen said, her eyes steady as Jack looked at the glass of brandy in his hands. He took a gulp.
"What did you believe?"
"That if you could come back three times from the dead, you could come back again."
"I wasn't dead."
"You came back, though." She was quick to point out. The silence was intrusive. "You wanted answers. I hope you found them."
***
Ianto looked a wreck. In that gorgeous way. His stuffy formal navy suit was rumpled, the jacket missing, shirt sleeves rolled up and the top four buttons were undone. He had been sat at the bar for three hours and his fifth pint was over half way empty when an attractive man sat down next to him.
Dark hair.
Blue eyes.
Great body.
Air force coat.
Impossible.
Must be a ghost conjured by his drunken mind. Even the voice, still the same arrogant commanding American twang. "You want to talk?"
Ianto smiled a self-depreciating smile, something that tugged at his beautiful lips made to form Welsh vowels. It was gone in an instant, and so was the rest of his pint. Right. Now it was time to hit the real alcohol.
"Whiskey, straight up." He motioned to the bartender, and attractive woman in her twenties who's gaze lingered on his long enough to make his next door neighbour believe there was something going on.
"She's pretty." The American remarked.
"Yeah. Prettier by the litre. Sexier by the hour." Ianto agreed with the apparition.
"This isn't helping. You need to get away from here. Ianto?"
God. Oh GOD. Ianto closed his eyes tight, and tried to breath in. That voice; the way it pronounced his name. Yahn-toh. Ianto. God he missed it.
"Do you want to dance?" Jack's image asked him, Ianto chocked on his drink, laughing at the thought.
"I'd look a bit stupid, dancing with a dream." Ianto pointed out as if it was the sanest thing he'd said all evening. On reflection it probably was. But a pain in his heart wouldn't quiet and the loud kept him up all night.
"I'm real, Ianto." Again, yahn-toh. "It's me, I came back. I'm not a dream."
"And I'm not drunk." Ianto agreed, turning away from the bar and heading into the crowed. "Go away, Jack."
Ianto was soon pulled into the arms of a dancing man dressed in tight jeans and a rock t-shirt. Ianto could feel his muscles beneath and let himself get lost in the music, its rapid beat echoed in his heart rate. A few minutes later Ianto was tormented by the voice again. "Mind if I cut in?" it yelled over the music which came to a sudden stop, sobering Ianto up like coffee never could. His dance partner stepped away, muttering something about always having partners, no good ones left unattached. If Ianto hadn't realised the significance of that gesture he would have called the man back. Instead he was gazing directly into the blue eyes of his Captain. Captain Jack Harkness stepped up to the younger man and entangled there bodies intimately, the dance music started up again, but it seemed to come from further away than before.
"Sir?" Ianto questioned, breathless with happiness and shock and confusion and relief.
"After office hours, Ianto. Relax." Yahn-toh. Just like he remembered.
"Yes Jack." Ianto agreed and surrendered himself to the beat of the music, the feel of Jack's body, and the sensations of Jack's tongue against his own.
Ianto no longer missed Jack. And Jack's question was answered.