Silver (a_silver_story) wrote,

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Untitled Prison Fic Part II

Title: Untitled as yet!
Chapter 02/??
Author a_silver_story
Genre: Alternate Universe
Rating: NC-17 overall
Warnings: None for this chapter
Summary: Jack and Ianto in prison - with plot, and lots and lots of smut. Sorry, I can't help it.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know. Now pass the retcon ...

Torchwood Index

Ianto was fairly certain he wasn't at home.

He prised an eye open, and in the dim sunlight just about made out the grey, painted brick in front of him.

Ah yeah. The six years in prison thing.


Sitting up slowly, he rubbed his face. He hadn't slept too badly, and he'd managed to thus far keep his tears at bay. It hadn't been so bad, he decided. It certainly could have been a lot worse, at any rate.

He pulled himself out of bed, avoiding Jack's arm hanging over the side of the mattress, and stood on tiptoes to try and see outside. He sighed bitterly, seeing the surrounding fences and the distant motorway taunting him in between trees and large expanses of grass.

“Get back in bed, John,” Jack mumbled sleepily. “You know I hate it when you pace ….”

Ianto bit his lip, and crawled back into his bunk anyway. “Sorry,” he whispered, and jumped when Jack's face suddenly appeared in front of him, leaning down from the bed above. He blinked a couple of times, a stranger where his cell mate should be, then recalled the day before with a bitter expression.

“Mmmph,” he grumbled as he settled back in his bunk. “Forgot about you.”

“I forgot you, too,” Ianto murmured, hugging his knees.

“Nobody forgets me,” Jack sighed.

“Probably why they got you in the line-up,” Ianto shot back.

Jack laughed. “I think I'll like you.”

Ianto hugged his knees tighter. “I suppose that's good.”

“'Spose,” Jack mimicked. “What you in for, then?”

“Stuff. You?”

“Stuff. Did you do it?”

“No. Did you?”

“Sort of. How long you got?”

“Six years, less for good behaviour. You?”

“Five left, and I'm not very well behaved.”

“I noticed,” Ianto rolled his eyes.

Jack laughed, commented on the eye-roll being 'adorable', and started getting washed and dressed. Ianto had no idea where to look, feeling more than a little bit awkward.

“So,” Jack cleared his throat, slathering shaving foam over his chin. “what family you got on the outside?”

“Just my sister … a brother-in-law … a niece and nephew. Yourself?”

“They got names?”

“My sister is Rhiannon, her husband Johnny. Their kids are David and Mica.”

“That's nice. Don't ever, ever tell anyone else here – unless, of course, you want them to turn up dead out of spite because you looked at somebody funny.”

Jack turned and narrowed his eyes at him, making sure his point got across. Ianto nodded and bit his lip. “Yes, sir. Sorry.”

“Sir?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying I look old?”

“You're a Captain. I'm sorry – I thought you deserved a bit of respect.”

“'Sir' makes me feel old,” Jack grimaced, carefully dragging his razor across his skin.


“That's the third time you've apologised. In the future, don't apologise for anything. Make them believe you meant to do it.”

“Yes … Captain.”

“Do you have an aversion to calling me 'Jack'?”

“My grandfather was a military man. I was taught to show deference to people who readily risk their lives to protect me and my country. Even Americans.”

“Do you know what I was Captain of?”

“No, sir.”

“Then how do you know I'm a military man? I might just have a yacht.”

“It's the way you hold yourself.”

Jack looked at him in the mirror as he raised his head from washing off the foam. “Yeah?”

Ianto averted his eyes, wondering if he'd said something wrong. He very well might have had, but wasn't sure, so kept quiet.

“I was an RAF Captain. That's all you need to know.”

“Wow,” Ianto said before he could stop himself. It raised a smile from Jack, however. “Did you … ever … fight?” asked Ianto.

“Yeah,” Jack replied stiffly, and Ianto took the hint to leave that there.

“It takes a lot to fly a jet. I mean … a lot … I could never do it. I don't think I have sharp enough reflexes. Then again … I've never … tested them.”

“You strike me more of a suit than a uniform.”

“How can you be sure my suit wasn't my uniform?”

“So you are a suit, then? Go me – what a guess. Desk job?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“I did a smidgen of … field work, so to speak,” Ianto replied cagily.

Jack sat down on the bed, and Ianto hugged his knees minutely tighter. “Researcher?” the Captain asked.

“Erm … no.”

Ianto stared at the top of his knees intently.

“Office boy?”


“Go on then. What are you?”

“I'm a … secretary.”

“For …?”

“Smith & Saxon.”

“Smith & Saxon … the law firm? A legal secretary?”

Ianto felt his cheeks flushing, and he stared at the top of his knees and nodded. Jack burst out laughing.

“Clearly not a very good one if you didn't do enough research to keep yourself out of here,” he sniggered. “And you're so timid – I can see you doing so well in court ….”

“I'm not timid,” Ianto scowled. “This is just … a new environment. I'd rather test the water first. And a legal secretary doesn't go to court.”

“Just stop telling complete strangers all about your family, all right? Keep extra quiet about them now – don't want it getting out you're a lawyer.”

“I'm not a lawyer! I'm a legal secretary. I'm lower down the grunt chain than paralegals.”

“If a job title has to get out, let it be lawyer. Otherwise the kids might pick on you even worse than if you actually were a lawyer. Hell – they might even treat you nicer if they think you might sue them.”

Ianto bit his lower lip. “You won't … tell anyone, will you?”

“Do as I say, and I'll hold my tongue.”

Ianto jumped as someone knocked heavily on the door. Jack groaned, and keys scraped in the lock. “Up you two!” called a cheery voice, and the blonde officer with curls and big eyes who had locked them in the night before opened the door. He yawned widely. “The faster you lot get up, the faster I can go home to bed.”

There was a muffled female voice near his shoulder before a dark head of hair with big green eyes poked around the door and unabashedly stared at Ianto. “Oooh he's cute!” beamed the young, female officer. “I'm Gwen. Gwen Cooper. Morning, Jack!” she added, flashing a smile in his direction.

“Mornin' sunshine.”

“You're Jones, yes? What you in for?”

“Erm … stuff?” he replied.

The blonde officer in the doorway cleared his throat. “C'mon, Gwen. Plenty of chance to gossip later: we need to let them all out.”

“Fine, fine,” she grinned brightly. “See you later. Bye, Jack,” she added, flashing him that same smile from before.

“Later,” Jack waved with a wink.

Ianto sighed as the two officers left. “Dear God, you're screwing the screw, aren't you?”

Jack rolled his eyes as he sat further back on the bunk, his back against the wall. “I haven't, but John tried his hand once. Nearly had it bitten off.”

“I'm hoping you're still referring to his hand?”

The Captain sniggered, and his eyes flicked to the door as John himself appeared, leaning through the frame. “Anybody home?”

“Morning, John,” smiled Jack, patting the bed beside him and between him and Ianto, indicating he should sit down. Ianto became very aware he was still in his night clothes, but neither Jack nor John seemed to care.

“Morning Jack … Eye-Candy,” he smirked, settling on the bed.

“Eye-Candy?” Jack smirked back, and Ianto rolled his eyes and tutted. “Ha! He is adorable.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “... and a lawyer ….”

John's eyebrows shot up. “Well … nice knowing you. Can I have my bunk back when you're dea-”

“John,” Jack sighed. “Don't scare him. I'm the one that has to live with him.”

“S'your fault,” John muttered darkly. “We all know what you were thinking with whe-”

“John was a zoo keeper.”


“You tell anyone he's a lawyer, he'll tell everyone you're a zoo keeper – not a military Captain. Deal?”

“You're a bastard, Harkness.”

“It's why yo – … it's why we're friends.”

They shared a look, and Ianto averted his gaze to stare at the open doorway. Oh … my … God ….

He hugged his knees and stared into space as Jack and John started talking in low voices, even though they knew he could probably hear them anyway. Their voices were just a background hum as Ianto lost himself in his thoughts, staring at the bottom of the doorway as a thousand awful situations involving his family raced through his mind.

“Planning on getting dressed today?” John's voice cut through his reverie.

Ianto blinked. “Hm?”

“Planning on getting dressed?” John repeated, a glint in his eye. Ianto's eyes flicked to Jack, who gave the smallest snigger. “We usually wake up and get dressed before the screws come 'round and leave the doors open. Funny how Jack forgot to mention that.”

Ianto pressed his lips together. “Can't we shut the door?”

“The screws will think we're up to something,” John replied a little too quickly.

Ianto's brow creased. “Why are you so keen on watching me get changed?”

“Because it's embarrassing for you,” shrugged John.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Just get washed and dressed, Ianto – it's always embarrassing at first, but you'll forget that quickly.”

“He's not my cell mate, though,” Ianto pointed out.

He's not my cell mate, though,” John mimicked.

Jack batted him around the back of the head. “Go on, John. Piss off. I mean … it's not like there's any particular reason why you should stay ….”

They shared that look again, and Ianto climbed off the bed and hugged himself by the basin and mirror, waiting for John to leave. Jack picked up the book he'd been reading the night before, and began to read it as Ianto took off his shirt to wash. He unwrapped his bar of cheap, hard soap, rubbing it under the tap for nearly a minute before it would lather. Trying not to think about Jack on the bed or the open door, he washed his face, neck and under his arms, dragging the rough flannel over his skin but feeling better for it afterwards.

He would have to ask Rhiannon to bring a face cloth, he decided. He would have asked for some of his towels, too, but they'd probably be stolen. Ianto would definitely ask for bedding, though, if he was allowed – two sets, so Jack could have some too and not steal his (and hopefully be more persuaded to making sure Ianto's weren't nicked by other prisoners either).

The shaving foam smelled like mint and coconut, and he grimaced as he spread it over his face. The razor was cheap and harsh, and he only just managed not to cut himself (that would have been more embarrassing than the people walking past being able to see him shirtless). Finally he splashed the lukewarm water over his skin, shaking a few droplets out of his hair and and standing up straight. For less than a fraction of a second, he was sure he caught Jack watching him in the mirror, but he blinked and Jack was once again buried in his book.

Ianto's stomach fluttered, and his heart sped up slightly. He willed himself to calm down – he had to get changed, next. He tried not to look like he was rushing, and managed not to fall over as he pulled on the grey boiler-suit and fastened it up to his waist to hide his (what he considered 'embarrassing') Y-fronts. Pulling on his cotton t-shirt backwards was a little clumsy, but he had it sorted without Jack noticing (outwardly) and put his arms into the boiler-suit sleeves. He left the upper half of the boiler-suit unfastened like the other prisoners of Torchwood did, apart from Jack and a couple of others, who wore the upper half slung down so that they were only wearing t-shirts.

“How come you don't put your arms in?” Ianto asked Jack, sitting back on the bed. He figured his bunk doubled as the cell's couch.

“Arms in?”

“In the boiler-suit? I noticed only one or two of you did.”

“It's a status thing,” shrugged Jack. “And if you had my arms, would you hide them?”

Ianto chuckled. “I probably wouldn't have shaved them ….” he said with a cheeky, lop-sided grin.

Jack batted him around the back of the head playfully as he did John. “I have a thing about body hair,” he grimaced. “Well … on me anyway.”

“You don't mind a hairy lady?” Ianto asked jokingly, hoping his agenda wasn't overly obvious.

Jack seemed to notice his slip up. “I … depends what area of the lady you're talking about. A woman who takes it all out between her legs just makes herself look like an eight-year-old girl, and that's wrong.”

“Agreed – but maintenance goes a long way.”

“... but underarms and legs? I'm sure it doesn't take that long to shave them ….”

Ianto sniggered, his eyes flicking to the big, metal door when a knock clanged on it. John was stood in the doorway again. “Am I allowed back in now the little girl's finished getting changed?”

“John,” sighed Jack. “On your first day, you nearly cried because you had to go to the communal showers.”

John glared at Jack, ice and steel in his eyes. The silence stretched out, and Ianto once again found himself hugging his knees to his chest, wondering what silent communication was passing between them and wishing he wasn't caught in the middle of whatever he was currently caught in the middle of.

Jack cleared his throat. “Breakfast!” he grinned brightly, and got up off the bed with an almost-jump. He pulled Ianto's wrist as he did, urging him up. “Stick close – don't want you to get lost.”

“He'll hardly get lost in a rectangle,” John pointed out coldly. “Run on ahead of us, Eye-Candy. We'll be right there.”

Ianto looked to Jack, and Jack nodded. “Find Owen,” he said, and gave him a gentle shove towards the door. John entered the cell fully, and Jack stood aside to let him in.

Standing on the walkway outside his cell on the fourth and highest tier, Ianto gazed down below into the cafeteria to see if he might have a snowball's chance in hell of spotting Owen. Over two thirds of the men in the hall were dark-haired, and all of them were wearing grey boiler-suits. Ianto was unsure what to do. He was wary of being left for a Saxon to find, but he also didn't want to look like he was waiting for a safety escort.

“Oi! Ianto!”

He heard Owen's shout to his right, and saw the skinny doctor making his way from his cell down the walkway towards him. “Hi, Owen.”

“Where's Jack?”

“In there.” Ianto pointed the few feet back to his cell. “They told me to go and find you and wait for them in the cafeteria.”


“John and Jack.”

Owen hesitated a moment as if thinking, then sighed. “C'mon then,” he said, gripping Ianto's upper arm and guiding him towards the metal stairs. Climbing up them the night before hadn't been so bad, Ianto decided. Going down them, however, was a different matter. They suddenly seemed very rickety, rusty metal stairs that thinly barricaded a pretty nasty – and fatal – fall.

Noticing his hesitation, Owen paused. “You get used to it – they won't collapse. I promise.”

“I know they won't,” Ianto murmured. “But right now my instincts are leaning towards a dangling length of rope being safer.”

“Just don't look down,” shrugged Owen. “C'mon … the sooner we get breakfast over and done with, the sooner we can watch This Morning.”

This Morning? Are they torturing us?”

“On the contrary,” Owen replied. “it's been somewhat of a treat since Holly Willoughby took over.”

“I don't have to sit through it, do I?” Ianto grimaced, carefully picking his way down the iron stairs, avoiding people coming up the other way and cursing inside at the silly superstitions his grandmother had always tried to enforce on him. Don't cross people on the stairs – it's bad luck!

Feet firmly on grey linoleum, Ianto joined the queue for breakfast with Owen just in front of him. It looked like all they were getting was cereal and warm milk, but Ianto's stomach growled and mouth watered all the same. He settled on bran flakes with what he sincerely hoped was fruit in it, and drowned them in the milk. He was given a pretty small glass of orange juice, and followed Owen to an empty table.

Ianto could hear yelling coming from somewhere up above, and it took him a moment to realise it was Jack and John's voices that were carrying all the way around the hall. Owen seemed to notice, too, and quickly finished his spoonful of cereal. “I'll be back in a minute,” he muttered and got up before waiting for a reply.

Don't leave me on my own, thought Ianto. He glanced around quickly, hoping he might recognise someone, but everyone looked pretty much the same in his unfamiliarity. The only thing that separated who he had to avoid from who he only might have to avoid was the open boiler-suits and the fully fastened ones.

Keeping his eyes down, he munched on his bran flakes and listened as Owen interrupted whatever row was happening upstairs and the raised voices fell quiet. A minute or so later Jack's feet appeared in his line of vision, marching straight to the front of the queue and pushing in to get his breakfast first. No one protested him doing it, but when John appeared and tried to do the same he was shoved out and to the back.

Jack pretty much slammed his tray down next to Ianto, and sat down heavily. Ianto sipped his orange juice. “You okay?”

“I'm sitting here so I don't have to look at you,” Jack muttered.

“Have I done something wrong?”


“I … I'm not going to apologise. I can assure you, I meant to do it.”

Ianto glanced next to him and saw the corners of Jack's mouth tugging slightly. With a heavy sigh, the Captain sagged. “It's John.”

“What about him?”

“He doesn't like sharing with Owen.”

“I don't mind swapping. Owen seems cool.”

“Owen's a dick. John's a dick. We're all dicks … except you.”

Ianto blinked at the comment, and sipped his orange juice again. “I have my moments.”

Owen sat down again, having given John what-for in the breakfast queue. “Honestly – doesn't that man understand the meaning of the words, 'be discreet or you'll get yourself killed'? Starting a row – and you!” Owen pointed threateningly at Jack. “... shouldn't rise to it! You're as bad as each other.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Jack replied sneeringly.

Ianto cleared his throat. “Discreet about what?” he asked carefully.

Owen's mouth snapped shut.

Jack coughed a little. “If we told you, that wouldn't be discreet.”

“I know how to be discreet,” Ianto persuaded.

“I'm sure you do,” shrugged Jack. “I'm also pretty sure you have a sister called Rhiannon, a brother-in-law and a niece and nephew called David and Mica. You were very discreet about that.”

Owen's eyebrow rose, and Ianto felt himself colour slightly. “You asked.”

John banged his tray onto the table opposite Jack. He sat down sharply and started wolfing down his cereal.

“Drama queen,” murmured Jack.

Ianto managed not to yelp as all their trays went crashing to the floor, John having stood and swept them all off in fury. Jack raised his eyes to him. “I hadn't finished that.”

John practically leaped over the table, taking Jack down the ground with him and punching and biting every bit of him he could reach. Jack laughed and roll them over, springing to his feet and taunting him and beckoning him to fight.

Owen simply put his head in his hands with an air of defeat. “C'mon, Ianto,” he sighed. “Let's get out of here before they get us written up too.”

There was a loud crash as Jack pretty much lifted and threw John onto a table full of Saxons, who then started throwing their firsts at any passing Torchy.

“Yeah … let's go ….” agreed Ianto, and he and Owen made their way through to the stairs as the two halves of the hall started to surge towards each other, the prison officers shouting and trying to pull apart what they could. Guppy and Holroyd watched quietly from the sidelines, waiting for their moment, and Ianto felt a sickening sense of foreboding as they followed Jack with their eyes. Jack was currently holding a Saxon while John punched him (it appeared they were once again on the same side), before throwing him aside and launching himself at a large fella coming up behind John.

Ianto ran up to his cell, and Owen gave him a nod before carrying on down the row to his own. Ianto resisted the urge to shut the cell door as he went to the toilet, but gave in in the end and closed it half-way, deciding he best go while Jack wasn't there and the rest of the prison was distracted.

With an almost-sigh of relief, Ianto collapsed down onto his bunk and squeezed his eyes shut, the brawling outside finally calming down. He could hear Guppy and Holroyd's voices floating up, but they weren't shouting. They spoke with cold, hard anger – the sort that really made people afraid.

Before he had come here, Ianto would have found it comical that a prison full of criminals – mostly big, strong men who feared crossing each other - would fall silent and obedient for two tiny women with nothing more than notebooks. Then, of course, he had met Alice Guppy and Emily Holroyd. The thought wasn't quite so funny any more.

Fifteen minutes later, and Jack slunk back into the cell. There were bruises forming on his arms and a pretty scary bite-mark in his neck, but Ianto couldn't see any serious injuries.

“That looks nasty,” he grimaced, indicating the bite.

“They made me have an injection for it,” he shuddered.


“Because men are dirty, disgusting, diseased rats who should all be put down,” he growled, throwing himself down on the bunk next to Ianto.

“You sound like my sister,” smiled Ianto. He reached out and squeezed Jack's shoulder, and when he didn't react let it rest there. “I don't mean to be nosy, but … you and John …?”

He let the question hang in the air, and Jack's eyes met his. He nodded once.

“Do you want me to move into Owen's cell?”

Jack shook his head. “I don't think I love him any more.”

“Okay,” Ianto nodded.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”


“Knowing I'm gay.”



Ianto squeezed Jack's shoulder where his fingers were still resting, and a hand raised to cover them in appreciation.

Ianto wondered if the pulse in his thumb was currently detectable by Jack's hand as it raced and pounded along with his heart. Jack was gay … not that Ianto was. Ianto was bicurious. He'd thought about it … but he hadn't acted on it. He wondered if Jack would be willing to help slake his curiosity ….

“You said … yesterday ….” he remembered. “You said John was getting out soon?”

“Just under two months.”

“What will you do when he's gone?”

“You, probably,” he sighed, and Ianto's eyes widened. “... I was joking,” the Captain clarified.

“Oh … right … yeah ... haha ….” Ianto mumbled. He withdrew his hand, and found himself at a loss with what to do. To keep his hands busy, he found himself hugging his knees yet again.

Jack cleared his throat. “So … where do you come from?”

“Wonderland,” Ianto smiled.

Jack gave a small laugh.

“Yourself?” Ianto asked.

“The bunk up there,” Jack pointed. “The weather isn't up to much, and if you fall you tend to bruise quite badly … but there's worse places to live – like in fear of the Jabberwocky.”

“Fuck the Jabberwocky – it's the unholy union of the Red Queen and Lord Voldemort that the citizens of Wonderland are having issues with,” Ianto laughed, wondering if Jack would understand he was speaking in metaphor.

“Is it the Red Queen who sent you here?”

Ianto nodded. “I stole her tarts.”

“You're in for theft or fraud ...?” Jack pondered.

“Neither, but both,” Ianto replied evasively.

“Hmmm,” was all Jack replied, and his brow creased as he thought. He broke the silence with a chuckle. “Do you ever relax? All you seem to do is hug yourself.”

Ianto felt his knuckles tighten slightly around his knees. “I … uh … I'm not used to this place. I feel … insecure.”

“I probably would if I were you. You're not exactly prison material, you shy, timid little thing.”

“I'm not timid,” Ianto glared, making Jack laugh. He reached out and ruffled his hair, like Ianto had seen him do with John.

“You have the worst problem of all,” he sighed, though a smile still played around his lips. “You're adorable – and the other guys will like that.”

“How many here are gay?” he asked.

Jack shrugged. “Dunno. But most of these guys just eventually get to a point where any hole will do.”

Ianto shuddered, and Jack turned serious. He leaned closer to Ianto, his voice low. “If anyone so much as looks at you funny, you tell me, okay? And if they hurt you … or … anything … you don't have to go into detail. Just give me their name – or their description – and I'll fucking kill them.”

Ianto leaned in a little closer, more out of indulgence than necessity for hearing quiet talk. “You think they'll … ?”

“Stick close to me, Alex or Owen – or any other Torchwood you get to know who's bigger than you if we're not close by.”

“What about John?”

Jack's eyes darted away for a second, and when he reforged the eye contact, he reached out to squeeze Ianto's shoulder. “I can't trust him, so you can't trust him. Just … try not to be alone with him?”

Ianto nodded. “Okay.”

Jack's hand squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, and the warm grip suddenly became all Ianto could possibly think about.

He felt Jack hesitate, too. Ianto could see him trying to work something out in his head behind the eyes, but the moment was broken when a shout sounded in the corridor.

“Alex's cell!”

Ianto sprang up from the bed, and Jack blinked as if unsure where he was. He pulled himself up. “You won't be wanted,” he said quietly, and slipped out of the door.

Thank God, Ianto thought, blessing whatever may or may not be watching that he now had time to adjust his boiler-suit to be more comfortable around his groin – if not deal with the sudden problem properly. He sensed that Jack may be gone a while – Alex was probably going to penalise him for having a hand in starting the earlier fighting – so he shut the cell door to and climbed under his blanket.

Lying back, he slid his hand into his underwear and grasped himself, squeezing with a little pressure, pushing his foreskin up and down. He licked his hand and stroked himself, and cast his mind around for something hot and sweaty to bring him off.

No matter how hard he tried, every woman he could think of morphed into Captain Jack Harkness, a hand gripping his upper arm, hot on fevered skin. Ianto's breath caught as he pictured Jack that morning, leaning over the sink topless and water droplets running down his smooth chest. Strong thighs and moulded calves disappearing inside the horrid grey jump-suit. Ianto himself splashing water over his face … raising his eyes to the mirror and meeting Jack's gaze for less than a millisecond ….

His orgasm was joyless, but he knew deep down this wouldn't be the last time he would come for Captain Jack Harkness.

Again ... this isn't high on my list of priorities - and I currently have a few other chapters of other stories on the go that are slowly becoming something acceptable as fiction (including my dark-but-kinky!fic for damaged_silver ;] )

Comments are invaluable feedback! XD

Also ... this fic needs a title. 'Behind Silver Bars' has been suggested, but personally I found that a little predictable and cheesy (sorry!). Myself and numerous other geniuses (or should that be genii?) have wracked our brains for a whole five minutes and still haven't been able to come up with better, so I'm opening it for suggestion. I wouldn't mind 'Silver' being worked in there somehow [*shrugs* gotta haz a gimmick!], but it's not mandatory.

Winner gets a rake (and if they also get the reference, I shall marry them).

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Tags: angst, au, gwen cooper, ianto jones, jack harkness, pc andy, silverfish, smut

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