Genre: AU, Romance, Angsty, fluffy
Rating: NC17 / 18
Pairings: Main Pairing is Jack/Ianto. Also includes Ianto/Martha, Ianto/Tosh friendship, Ten/Tosh, Mickey/Martha (mentioned)
Warnings: M.M, rentboy!Ianto, Alternate Universe, torture (not graphic)
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 ...
Summary: Started as a PWP, but since it's me (sorry folks!) and I really can't do things by halves, it grew and grew and grew (and not in an innuendous sort of way). Doctor Smith owns a posh Cardiff hotel, and the respectable Sixth Earl of Boeshane is coming to stay - and he brings with him some very specific demands.
The story follows Ianto from being born, meeting Toshiko and them running away together to the city, right up until Ianto is taken to work in the Doctor's hotel as a 'service' butler for - you guessed it - Jack.
Everyone's fave OTP ensues. BOO YA!
FIRST PART | Chapter 1
OKAY, I'LL BE HONEST WITH WHAT HAPPENED HERE!!!
This following segment was supposed to occur before the article, but I forgot to paste it in because I'm an IDIOT! So I've had to delete the first post, and put it here in the *right* order, with all the narrative that preludes the second article. GAH
Ianto rolled over, straight into the solid form of Jack, and jumped awake. For a second morning, he woke up next to Jack, and half wished he was still with Lisa. The memories of being ... taken ... came back, and once again he felt the guilt well up in his heart, and the worry and panic for Owen made his eyes cloud over with tears.
But there was still something wrong with this Jack. Ianto was sure he was sick or ... maybe mad, or something.
Untangling himself, he went into the bathroom and used one of the hotel's travel toothbrushes and toothpaste to scrub away his morning breath, leaving his teeth minty fresh. He turned on the shower, and before he could shut the door found himself face to face with a sleepy - but definitely horny - Captain, giving him a hopeful look.
Remembering the promise he'd made himself the night before - if Jack tried to force him, he would leave. If Jack respected him and didn't make him, he would stay and help - Ianto gently put a hand on his bare chest and pushed him out of the room.
"Awwww, no fun!" grinned Jack. "Just quick?"
Ianto raised an eyebrow.
"In and out - you'll never notice I was there."
He rolled his eyes.
"Finnneee fine. Leave the water on for me when you're done though." Jack sighed as he retreated.
Ianto nodded, then shut the door and locked it, breathing a sigh of relief. He showered quickly, firmly tying the dressing gown around his waist when he was done and wandering out into the main room, trying not to think about the fact Jack was still naked and Ianto was still wet and practically naked. Jack seemed to notice, too, and gave him a suggestive smirk. Ianto gave his head a quick shake, then jerked it in the direction of the shower, indicating that Jack should use it now.
"Not very talkative this morning?" Jack frowned.
Ianto ignored him, pulling a suit out of his bag and trying to shake out the creases.
Jack put firm hands on his shoulders, turning him and forcing him to look him in the eye. "What's wrong with you?"
Ianto sighed, brushed his hands off and walked purposefully over to the bedside cabinet and perching on the edge of the bed, reaching for the complimentary notepad and pen that had been left there. Hastily he scribbled a note and handed it to Jack:
I've taken a Vow of Silence.
Jack squinted at the appalling writing, then raised an eyebrow. "What for?"
Until you take me home I will not speak.
Reading it, the Captain laughed weakly. "Okay ... I'm sure you'll be able to keep this up." he winked. "C'mon, stop being silly ..."
Ianto scowled and slammed the pen down, pushing past Jack to get back to his clothes. Jack watched him, amused but frowning a little. Ianto realised he hadn't moved, turned, and pointed purposefully at the en suite. With a sigh, Jack conceded.
"Okay, okay." he sighed. "Whatever you want ..."
He listened as Jack showered, hearing the rhythmic thunder of the water hitting the porcelain below, and sighed. Drying himself then pulling on his rather crumpled suit, he felt a sudden loss at what to do with himself. He sighed again, then crossed back to the bedside cabinet, tore the used paper from the top of the notepad and took out the little complementary sewing kit. Carefully, he weaved a thick amount of thread through the card at the back of the notepad, and left a loop long enough to fit over his head so that he could wear the little pad when he needed it. Clipping the pen to it, he decided to revert back to what he knew of mornings with Jack: newspaper, coffee and breakfast.
There was no kitchenette in this suite, and nor was there a coffee machine. Opening the door, Ianto picked up the complimentary daily that was always left there, and froze when he saw the picture on the front page. He just about managed to stop himself calling out for Jack, and decided to settle on 'nonchalant' - the paper wasn't going anywhere, and nor was Jack.
Eventually Jack emerged, and raised a questioning eyebrow to Ianto stood so sternly by the dresser. Towel drying his hair and with his other towel wrapped around his middle, Jack walked over and looked at what Ianto was pointing at. He lifted the paper, and scanned over it. With a deep set frown, he put it back on the dresser while Ianto waited for him to speak.
Ianto raised an eyebrow, urging him to say something.
"The coat really is gay, isn't it?"
Rolling his eyes dramatically, Ianto pretty much shoved him out of the way to get to Jack's laptop. Logging on to the internet, he took a deep breath before considering the can of worms he was probably just about to open.
"Ianto, don't go looking for what people are saying on the internet about you," Jack warned him gently. "you're just going to wind up upset. Erm ... not that ... not that you're not already. But there's no point in paying attention to these things! More than half of that article is just exaggeration!"
Ianto typed in the web address, and found he was headline news. He scanned the comments below the article, before the screen was snapped shut, practically on his fingers, by Jack.
"Don't, Ianto. We'll get this sorted out."
Ianto scribbled on his pad. How?
Jack shrugged, pulling off the towel from around his waist. "Tell them what really happened."
Ianto looked between the laptop and Jack, numb for what to say.
"Oo! Get them to interview you. That should be fun."
Ianto shook his head.
"We'll just invite someone round and let them see how happy we are again." Jack grinned, trying to decide on blue shirt or dark blue shirt.
Ianto stared at his back. Happy?
He was still in numb shock from the article when Jack pulled him up by his hands, and other than opening his mouth Ianto didn't respond to the kiss Jack took from him. Hands slid over his thighs and tried to slip inside his jacket, and as another test Ianto pushed him back, shaking his head.
"What's the matter with you?" Jack asked, touching his cheek. "Are you okay?"
Ianto stared at him as Jack searched his face as if trying to figure out what was wrong. As much as Ianto was angry and hurt and seething right now, he couldn't not try and find out what was wrong with Jack. Every instinct in his mind was now telling him that something had snapped, and his state of mind may be ... questionable.
'If it turns out I can't handle him, I get him outside help. But he needs me first.' he decided, definitely not putting off telling someone something was wrong. He thought of the article, and of some of the things people who didn't even know Jack were saying - what people who didn't know Ianto were saying. He had been painted as a victim. Was he?
If he'd learnt anything from the report, it was the only thing there that warmed his heart: Lisa had misunderstood. Maybe, when Jack was better ... maybe she'd reconsider him? Maybe she'd let him explain that he didn't have sex with Martha. Technically, he had penetrated her, but he'd never come. His first real orgasm he shared with Jack.
Closing his eyes at the memory of the first time Jack had had him, Ianto sighed and turned away. He picked up his pen.
"What do we do now? Are we staying here? What do we tell people when they find us?"
"We stay here, and we tell people we're happy. So ... none of this Vow of Silence stuff, because that's what weird people do."
Ianto huffed. "... and abduction is what all people do, is it?"
Jack read the note, incredulous. "Abduction? Who was abducted?"
Ianto rolled his eyes, and sat down heavily on the bed. Jack dropped beside him, as close as he could get, and tossed the note expertly into the paper basket at the other side of the room.
"I bet I can make you make a noise." grinned Jack, stroking Ianto's inner thigh. Ianto gave him a doubtful look. "I know you can be stubborn, love." he smiled, leaning closer, giving Ianto a gentle push back, trying to get him to lie down. Ianto gave in with an eye roll, suddenly finding himself facially more expressive now that he could no longer speak. "You don't have to stubborn with me." he muttered into Ianto's neck.
Catching his breath, Ianto slid from the bed and stood up, practically glaring and trying to straighten his suit.
Deciding to play Jack a little in the way he wanted, Ianto arranged his features into the wicked little smile Jack loved and turned to glance at him over his shoulder. Jack understood the look as the promise of later, and resigned to it. Back to himself, Ianto took his notepad and paper and started scrawling.
"We need to find out if Owen is okay, or if he needs anything."
"The man you shot."
"Ohhhhh! He'll be fine! Don't worry about it - bounce back in no time."
"You shot him in the chest."
Jack frowned as if he was thinking about it, then shrugged. "Good a place as any."
"He was like a brother to me and you just shot him and now you don't care?"
"Woah ..." Jack held his hands up. "I don't shoot to kill, Ianto."
Ianto pointed at the line that read, 'You shot him in the chest'.
"The article said he was stable." shrugged Jack.
"Put him in a private ward with private care like you did with me and Lisa."
Jack tutted, rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "What for? He'll be fine."
Ianto shoved the paper under his nose again, more forcefully.
"Fine, fine. I'll phone Janet."
Satisfied - or as satisfied as he could be - Ianto sat back down on the bed again and patted the spot beside him for Jack to sit down. Instantly, there were lips and teeth on his neck, fingers trying to undo little buttons to get to the flesh beneath and hands pulling at his tie. Ianto closed his eyes, letting Jack work, feeling the warm arousal spread over him as the scent of his Captain filled his lungs.
Jack had managed to clumsily open his shirt just as there was a frantic knocking on the door, and Jack growled in frustration. Ianto was already making himself presentable, doing up his shirt buttons and tying his tie, rearranging his hair before opening the door. He blinked when he saw who it was, then stood back to let him in.
Doctor Smith looked livid – and he was clutching a newspaper.
He looked like he was past the stage of shouting – not that Ianto ever really thought of the Doctor shouting that much – and was now simply seething with quiet, cold anger.
“Captain,” he began. “I would very much appreciate if you could fill me in on exactly what it is going on here.” he demanded, throwing the paper at Jack’s feet. Jack ignored it, raising an eyebrow.
“Nothing at all like what that article says. Does Ianto look like he’s being kept against his will?”
The Doctor narrowed his eyes in Ianto's direction, and he squirmed under his gaze. It hit him that this was the point of no return, and how he behaved now would determine whether or not ... well, whether or not people would think of him as being abducted or went willingly with Jack. Taking a deep breath, he decided that Old Jack (his Jack, who had given him so much, and had given him up to keep him happy and agreed to Ianto's terms of never being alone together, not this Jack, who was ... well, Ianto didn’t want to think about what he was) deserved his support. Crossing the room, Ianto sat on the bed bedside Jack and took his hand, demonstrating his solidarity, and smiled up at the Doctor.
“See,” said Jack. “we’re fine.”
The Doctor’s eyes narrowed further. “Ianto ... could I have a word with you please? In private?”
Ianto blinked and looked to Jack. Jack shrugged and nodded, and Ianto got up and went out into the corridor with the Doctor. The door shut behind them, and Ianto was shocked to see the Doctor had not come alone. In the hallway was also Donna, an aide who Ianto didn’t recognise, a young ginger-haired man and a black woman in a beige suit, holding up a police badge.
“This way,” the Doctor indicated down the corridor, and lead them to the suite that used to be Jack’s. He opened the door, standing aside for all of them to walk in behind him, and told them to settle on the sofas.
Ianto didn’t hesitate, and Donna sat down next to him, probably only having been brought along to offer him friendship. They had gotten on quite well while Ianto had stayed here. The redheaded male stood behind her, and the aide with the notepad pulled up the chair from the desk in the corner, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears and taking a biro out of the shirt pocket beneath her frumpy blue cardigan.
“Ianto Jones,” began the police officer as she sat opposite him. “my name is Detective Kathy Swanson. We just want a quick chat – just to make sure you’re okay. Is that alright?”
Ianto took a deep breath, realising that if he didn’t speak to them, and upheld his vow, they’d probably think he was in trouble. He’d have to break it to keep Jack safe. He also decided that if he spoke now, Jack probably wouldn’t find out. Ianto cleared his throat and nodded, waiting for her to continue.
“Well, how are you?” she asked.
“Fine. Really, I’m fine.” He smiled reassuringly. “Er ... who are they?” he indicated the aide with the notebook and the redheaded man with his head, his voice croaking a little with not having been used for too long.
“This is DC Adam Smith,” Swanson told him, indicating the redhead. “and that is Jennifer Beale.”
“What’s she here for?” he asked, watching her scribble.
“She’s a reporter, Ianto.”
He scowled at her. “What?”
“She’s a reporter. The newspaper article was just the first in a whole media storm, and unless we get the truth to the outside world they’re going to be coming after Captain Harkness with torches and pitchforks.”
Ianto's eyes darted between the Doctor, Swanson and Jennifer Beale. “So ... how much of the profits are you two getting?” he asked coldly. He sincerely doubted a reporter would have sat in on this meeting for free.
He was sure he heard DC Smith snigger, and Swanson shifted uncomfortably while the Doctor searched for more interesting places to look.
“That isn’t the point, Ianto.” Detective Swanson insisted. “We need to get what really happened out there before someone does something that they regret. So ... maybe you could tell me what happened on the nineteenth of August from your point of view?”
Jennifer Beale looked up at him expectantly, her pen poised ready to scribble shorthand on her pad. Detective Swanson was watching him, and he could feel her eyes burning into him.
“I ... I was ... we’d had a bit to drink,” he started, already telling a bit of a lie. Neither he nor Jack had drunk anything more than a glass of wine between them. “and we were sharing stories ... our pasts and stuff. Growing up. How we’d wound up where we were. And ... then it was my turn.”
Ianto sighed, exasperated, and watched the scratching biro as it scurried over the notepad.
“Don’t you have a Dictaphone or something? Your pen is ... distracting.”
“Broke it.” said Jennifer Beale sharply, finishing what she was scrawling and looking up expectantly again.
Ianto sighed. “Where was I ...? Erm ... we were talking about the past, and then it was my turn. And I told my story and ... things ... escalated. Jack seemed to think I’d somehow ... somehow betrayed him.”
“What did you do?” asked Jennifer Beale, leaning forward nosily but trying to look and sound sympathetic.
“None of your business.” Ianto scowled.
She sat back, muttering darkly. “How rude ...”
“Rude? Fine, I’ll reciprocate your behaviour.” He leant forward in his chair, over-exaggerating her sympathetic attempts. “Now, could you please, please tell me your most intimate and personal secrets so that I can sell them to make money?”
She blinked at him coldly, and he refused to break her gaze.
Serious again, he sat back. “I am not rude. Sarcastic and edgy; never rude.”
The Doctor cleared his throat. “The boy has a point.”
Ianto gave him a sharp look. The Doctor had never called him ‘boy’ before – ‘young man’ occasionally, but never ‘boy’. Then it occurred to Ianto that the Doctor had read the article. Had it really changed his view of him that much already?
“Anyway,” cut in the Detective. “... so, the Earl found out something you did and took it as a personal insult?”
“Kind of. It doesn’t matter. The point is ... look, we had a bit of an argument, which culminated in him ... okay, he made me go with him. I didn’t want to go, not at first, but ... well, we’ve all calmed down now. And everything’s fine.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So he did abduct you?”
“He forced me to get into the car. He didn’t force me to stay in it.”
Donna made an incredulous sound. “You wouldn’t have to ‘force’ me to stay on the inside of a car if it was going a hundred and twenty miles an hour.”
Ianto shifted a little.
“The Captain had to use physical force to get you into the vehicle?”
‘Leading Question’ sprang to Ianto's mind, and suddenly got the feeling that this Detective seriously wanted to have Jack put behind bars. Well, not on Ianto's watch. He seriously considered his answer to the question. “I ... er ... I was forced to to the car. I wasn’t forced in the car.” he settled on saying.
“Hmmm.” the Detective pondered. “That’s not what our witnesses have said. You don’t need to protect him, Ianto.”
“I’m not.” ... I am.
“He shot one of your friends. According to our witnesses, the Captain turned and said something to you just before he aimed and fired. What was it he said, Ianto? Did he tell you that unless you got in the car, he’d kill Owen?”
“He said nothing of the sort. And none of you have told me whether or not Owen is okay.”
“Tell us what he said, and we’ll give you news of your friend.” offered Swanson.
“Hang on a minute!” fumed Donna. “What the hell? You can’t do that!”
“I can.” replied the Detective coldly. “If I have reason to believe he’s withholding information to protect his captor, I have perfect grounds to withhold information for his protection in turn.”
“Never heard of that law.” retorted Donna.
“It’s in the book somewhere.” Swanson waved away her concerns.
“This is why there’s no Dictaphone.” frowned Ianto. “She can edit this whole talk down into whatever plays best for you. No one needs to know that you’re bargaining with information about my friend so that you have to make me lie.”
“Just tell us what he told you before he shot Owen.”
“He didn’t say anything.”
“Why was it Owen he chose to shoot?”
“I don’t know.”
“This thing in your past ... this ‘offence’ ... was Owen involved?”
“No – Owen stopped me doing it.”
“So the Captain randomly shot one of your friends?”
“I ... it all happened so fast. I can’t remember most of it. We’d all had a lot to drink ...”
“The Captain was drink driving?”
“No! I had ... I had a lot to ... I meant ... will you just stop it!” he shouted at Jennifer Beale, her scratching biro halting at his outburst. "You couldn’t give a shit about me, could you? It’s just as well I am fine – God help me if I wasn’t! Now, if you’ll excuse me ...”
He made to get up, and the Detective followed him, DC Smith getting in his path. “Calm down, mate.” he tried to placate him.
“Move.” growled Ianto, trying to get to the door behind him.
“Just a couple more questions, Ianto.” Detective Swanson pressed. “Then we can either forget all this ever happened, or act accordingly.”
“’Act Accordingly’?” he asked. “I’m guessing that means putting Jack away somewhere?”
“He’s shot somebody, Ianto.”
“He’s not dead though! He’ll be fine!”
“Don’t you care about your friend?” implored Jennifer Beale.
Ianto blinked in shock. “Of ... of course I care ... you ... you’re all ... you’re all so ... why are you putting this pressure on me? Owen was ... he was like my brother!”
“Owen was your brother?” blinked Jennifer.
“No! Like my brother! Like!”
Ianto was feeling claustrophobic, and the air seemed suddenly thick and hard to breathe. It felt like there were questions coming from all over, fired off quickly and each one meant to confuse him into damaging Jack.
“Y’know,” pondered Jennifer. “siblings often go through phases of wanting the other dead.”
“And?” asked Ianto.
“I think you should stop there.” insisted the Doctor. “This isn’t what we agreed.”
“Well,” continued Jennifer Beale. “you say the Captain turned to Ianto and said something – what if the witnesses were wrong? What if it was Ianto who spoke?” She raised an accusing eyebrow.
Ianto blinked. “Wha – I don’t understand. What are you getting at? Doctor! Donna! What are they trying to do?”
Swanson spoke next. “Did you ask Captain Harkness to shoot Owen?”
“NO! NO! I would never ... you can’t .... you can’t ...”
“I think you need to leave, Detective.” Donna and the Doctor said in unison.
“Justice must be served.” she smirked. “Ianto, I think you need to come down to the station and give a statement.”
“You can’t make me.”
“We can.” sighed DC Smith. Ianto scowled at him, drew back his fist and landed a neat right-hook on his jaw. The Constable toppled with the impact, and Ianto dodged behind him, curling his fingers around the door handle. Smith grabbed his ankle, and Ianto stumbled, kicking out and shaking his leg free. The Inspector was on his feet again, and chased him part way down the corridor, catching the back of his jacket and dragging him backwards.
Ianto yelled out, spun, and kicked him hard in the stomach. Winded, he stumbled, but didn’t give up, managing to pin Ianto's arms behind his back and shove him face-first into the wall. Ianto prayed Jack would hear, but was reluctant to call for help – was it vain of him to want to prove so much he wasn’t a helpless boy?
He could feel Smith pressed up against his back, pushing his arms up until it hurt, and he let out a cry of pain as a sharp stab fired up his left arm, Smith pushing it higher to make him yell. He was pulled back slightly, and Ianto hung his head subdued. The Constable spun him round and pinned him to the wall. “Feisty.” he grinned wolfishly. Ianto grinned at him, pulled his head back and head butted him hard. DC Smith growled in pain, stumbled back and Ianto darted away, slipping through the door into his and Jack’s room, shutting it and locking it.
Jack was lying on the bed, reading a leaflet, and looked up at Ianto with a raised eyebrow and questioning look.
“They want to put you in prison and ... and they ... they kept asking all these questions ... I was so confused ...”
Jack sat up and held his arms open, and Ianto found himself automatically walking over to him and settling himself into the strong embrace.
“They?” asked Jack.
“There was a Detective, and this stupid, stupid reporter.” Ianto growled.
The handle of the door shook, and then there was hammering on the frame. Raised voices of conflicting stances penetrated the room – Detective Swanson demanding the Doctor let her in, and Donna and the Doctor refusing. Ianto scowled at the door.
“If we ignore them, they’ll go away.” he said, burying his head back in Jack’s neck.
Jack sighed heavily. “Stay here ... I can handle the press. It’s one of my charms ...”
Ianto sat on the edge of the bed while Jack went to pull open the door. With a charming smile he stepped aside and allowed the reporter and two police officers entry, closely followed by a thunderous Donna and a livid Doctor.
“So!” Jack clapped his hands. “What’s the problem, ladies?” He indicated that they should sit down on the end of the bed, and he pulled up a chair for himself. Donna sat on the side of the bed next to Ianto, and the Doctor loitered in the corner.
“You abducted this young man and shot his brother, and he won’t even let us put you away for it.” Detective Swanson said instantly, her frown deep.
Jack laughed. “Really? I abducted him did I? Ianto: did I abduct you?”
“Case closed.” smiled Jack sitting back and folding his arms. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“You dragged him kicking and screaming from his home. You at least forcefully took him, even if you don’t force him to stay.”
“Ianto: did I drag you kicking and screaming?” Jack asked him.
Ianto didn’t waste time contemplating the lie. “Difficult to tell, sir. So many of our evenings have either begun or ended with us physically active and being vocally dynamic.”
“Another case closed.” declared Jack. “What else?”
“You shot Owen Harper. Why?”
Jack frowned at the question, as if trying to remember. “I took offence.” he said finally.
“Offence at what?”
“Ah – now that is what we call a ‘dirty little secret’.” Jack winked. The corners of Jennifer Beale’s mouth curled imperceptibly. “But ... if Owen’s willing to let it lie, then so am I.”
“Mr. Harper is in intensive care.” scowled Swanson.
“I know, and I’m sorry.” Jack told her, suddenly subdued. “I was just ... I’m an emotional man, Detective, Ms ... ?”
“Oh ... Miss Beale.” insisted Jennifer.
“Miss Beale.” smiled Jack flirtatiously. “Yes, I am an emotional man. Sometimes, I have to suppress my emotions; keep them down, as it were. And eventually, something gives, and a whole tirade of feelings come out. I’ve always spoken with actions easier than with words, unlike other emotional men, and it always winds me up in trouble.” He sighed regretfully. “Sometimes ... sometimes it’s just like feeling too much ... all at once. Anger, regret ... love ....” He timed the word to perfectly fall in sync with his glance towards Ianto. “... but I wouldn’t change that for the world.”
Ianto, though sat behind Jennifer Beale, was pretty sure he’d just seen her melt. He was pretty sure Donna was falling for it, too.
“Captain ... you’re ... your lordship ...” Jennifer was asking. “... could i just ... you’re divorcing your wife, yes?”
Jack narrowed his eyes a fraction. “Yes.”
“Are you divorcing her so that you can legally be with Mr. Jones?”
His eyes flicked to Ianto, then back to Jennifer.
“Yes.” he said simply, and even allowed himself a distant smile. Ianto tried not to look quite so shocked, as a million thoughts of Lisa and his promises to her raced through his head and lightning speed, and guilt piled onto him like the weight of the world. It then occurred to him that this was probably a PR stunt to romanticize the story and pull his public back on side.
Jack chatted with the Detective, who appeared to be totally immune to his charms, and 'Miss' Beale for another few minutes before drawing the conversation to a steady close. Ianto listened carefully to the way Jack could spin the tale to his advantage – even he was starting to believe he hadn’t been at all taken against his will, and had simply had a minor argument before getting into the car happily and had a lovely cruise down to Cardiff.
The reporter and the police officers left; the reporter was satisfied, but Detective Swanson looked fit to burst with anger at Jack Harkness seemingly having got away with ‘it’ again. She muttered darkly to her constable, cast one more fleeting glance around the room, and left, escorted by the Doctor and Donna.
Jack sighed and down on his front across the bed. “I win then?” he asked into the pillow.
“Hm?” frowned Ianto.
“You’re talking again.” Jack smirked as he raised his head, turning to look at him. Ianto scowled.
“If I didn’t, they’d have thought something was wrong.”
Jack turned on his side and patted the bed in front of him, indicating Ianto should lay there. With a sigh, Ianto conceded and settled himself facing him at eye level, folding his arms tightly. A hand rested on his hip, and Jack smiled at him.
“I like hearing your voice. It’s beautiful.” he said.
Ianto glanced away, his cheeks turning a little pink. Jack laughed at him blushing at the compliment, and touched his cheek. “Just you wait, though. This time tomorrow and we’ll have nothing to worry about.”
For those of you on dial-up, here's a .pdf version. It contains both articles, so you'll have to scroll down to get to the second one.
Yes, I'm a twat.