Basingstoke (basingstoke) wrote in tw_flashfic,
Basingstoke
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"Starring Mr. Ianto Jones As Himself" by Basingstoke

Title: Starring Mr. Ianto Jones As Himself.

Author: basingstoke

For the "Undercover" prompt.
Thanks to elynross, astolat, and melinafandom for beta and asskicking and whatnot.


*

"Status," Jack said.

"Maintaining," Tosh said.

"Yes, doing my best here," Ianto said. He and Owen and Gwen were all hanging on to the Rift machine lever and bracing their feet against the floor or, in Gwen's case, against Ianto's thigh. It was extremely painful, but no time to complain.

"Okay," Jack said. He had his gun trained on the bright spot on the ceiling. "Can you close it?"

"Trying," Tosh said. Her hands skittered across the keyboard. Ianto shifted his grip on the lever, fighting against the pull of temporal-magnetic waves.

"Fuckin' 'ell," Owen panted into Ianto's ear. Gwen braced her other foot against Ianto's spine and Ianto yelled.

"What?" Jack yelled back.

"Gwen, stop standing on me!" Ianto said cried. "Stop, stop now!"

"Sorry!" And she shifted and slipped and the lever vibrated just as Tosh shouted "Got it!"

The bright spot vanished. Ianto let go, falling backwards onto Owen and Gwen.

"I am so sorry. Did I hurt you?" Gwen hugged him from behind, patting down his chest.

"No! Quite all right," Ianto said before she reached anything sensitive. He would have bruises later, but it was a small price for the integrity of the fabric of space-time. "Excuse me," he said, rolling off the others.

"Jack." Tosh sounded choked. "You're naked." Ianto looked up, rather more quickly than he should have.

"Yeah, I know, and I'm freezing," Jack said. He wasn't entirely naked; he had his boots on. He brushed ash off his arms and stomach and set his gun down on Tosh's desk. "Ianto, tell me all my clothes aren't at the cleaners."

Jack offered Ianto a hand and he took it, carefully not looking down. "All your clothes are at the cleaners, sir."

"No, I said *not* to tell me that."

"Messy week, sir. I can buy you new."

"But they won't be my clothes if they're new," Jack said, pouting and then shivering. "On the other hand, Wales is a fucking cold place, so if you wouldn't mind." He turned and headed up to his office. Ianto deliberately did not watch his arse; instead he gave Gwen a hand up from the floor.

He had everyone's measurements, for just such occasions, so he ran out to Marks & Spencer. Along the way, he realized that they had just saved the world, and he had to put his head down on the steering wheel and take some deep breaths.

Ianto wasn't gone half an hour. He hurried down into the Hub, pausing just before the door to straighten his jacket and take another deep breath. He wasn't quite steady yet. Saved the world, saved it with his hands--God, saved it from splitting in half down the seams. He clutched the paper handles of the bag and breathed in, two, three, four, breathed out, and activated the huge rolling door. "Clothing, two changes," he called out.

"Himself is trying to make tea," Owen replied. He was wrapping an elastic bandage around Gwen's knee. "Tosh is helping."

"Oh, dear," Ianto muttered. He ran back to the kitchen.

Jack and Tosh were staring at the kettle on the stove. Tosh looked up when he opened the door. "It won't boil," she said.

"It is boiling. You put too much water in." Ianto set the bag on the table, turned the stove off, checked the leaves in the teapot, dumped half back into the box, wrapped a towel around his hand, and carefully poured the water. It jerked and sputtered into the teapot. "If you fill it up past the level of the spout, there's no room for the steam to whistle."

"Oh. I would have figured that out, I'm sure," Tosh muttered.

Jack reached for the teapot. Ianto stopped his hand. "It needs to steep," he said.

"Make it steep faster." Jack was wrapped in a plush blanket from his bed. A few inches of bare leg showed between the blanket and the burnt tops of his socks.

"I can't change physics for you," Ianto said.

"Oh, come on. This is Torchwood." Jack bumped his shoulder, though really it was more of a rub; it ended with Jack leaning full-body against him.

"Aliens don't make tea," Ianto said.

"True. Not proper tea. What did you get me?" Jack swiveled his hip across Ianto's as he pushed away.

"Undershirts, boxers, socks, trousers, two shirts, braces, and a jumper," Ianto replied. "They didn't have any army greatcoats."

"Bless you." Jack sat down and started unlacing his boots. "And it's an Air Force greatcoat, and it didn't get burned. Just a bit rougher than I like on bare skin."

He wasn't coy with his nudity as he pulled clothing on. Covering for warmth, that's all, which gave Ianto far too titillating flashes of what it would be like if they were based in Brazil. Perhaps that's where Torchwood Four had gone.

Ianto attended to the tea. Milk. Sugar. Cups and saucers. Biscuits. They could all use a bit of refreshment after so much excitement. Ianto glanced back at Jack, just as he was pulling up his trousers. No shirt yet. In the bright kitchen light, his nipples were dark brown, when Ianto would have expected pink or rose, like his lips.

And there was a time and a place, and this was neither. Ianto whirled back to the tea tray. Nipples, for heaven's sake, and they had just saved the world. He had no focus, no--spoons. He had no spoons.

Ianto fetched the spoons. Jack tucked his shirts into his trousers and slipped the braces on. "I wasn't made for this. It's not in my blood," Jack complained. Ianto wondered where he was born, where he was really from.

"Where were you born, then?" Tosh asked.

Jack paused. Ianto picked up the tea tray and offered him a cup. "Baja," Jack said.

Baja California, Mexico. North America. The New World. A hot place. Ianto met his eyes as Jack picked up his cup.

"Where?" Tosh asked.

"Mexico," Ianto said. "So you're not American."

"I'm a resident of the great British Empire." Jack smiled. "I swear it doesn't matter where I'm from."

"You just said you were from Mexico," Ianto said.

"I said I was born in Baja." Jack leaned forward and kissed Ianto on the cheek. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

The trousers were charcoal wool blend, and the jumper was blue wool. Ianto did know what Jack liked, of course. He'd only been watching the man for more than a year now. "You're welcome," he said. He did not drop the tea tray.

"I was never cold until I left home," Jack said. "I don't like it."

"I'll try turning up the heat," Ianto said. He retreated into the main room, bearing the tea tray without a shiver.

"Trousers off," Owen said. Ianto ignored him. "Yes, I mean you," Owen said.

"Sir, I wish to register a complaint against Dr. Owen Harper," Ianto said without looking. He could feel Jack in the doorway.

"You said she hurt you, I saw where her feet were, trousers off," Owen said, sounding bored.

"Better safe than sorry," Jack said.

"I'm fine." He looked around. The girls seemed amused, and Jack seemed interested. "Just a few bruises. Nothing at all," Ianto said.

"I really am sorry," Gwen said. "We have the witch hazel right here."

Jack took the tea tray and Ianto gave up fighting. Owen pulled his trousers down and applied witch hazel to the bruises on his thigh and lower back. Ianto couldn't be calm, couldn't play it cool; he was uncomfortable, stripped down to his underwear in front of everyone. Jack looking at his arse, of course.

"I kicked you *hard.* Sorry," Gwen said.

"All in the course of saving the world," saving the world, saving the entire world. Him. Them. With their hands.

"This shirt has pink stripes," Jack said.

"Yes," Ianto said.

"Were you trying to tell me something?"

"You look good in pastels," Ianto said. Owen slapped his bottom and Ianto took that as a cue to pull his trousers back up.

"But pink?" Jack headed up the stairs to his office again, shopping bag in hand, blanket tossed over one shoulder. Ianto followed him.

"It's quite fashionable," Ianto said. He followed Jack into his office. When he walked in, Jack was just inside the door.

Jack elbowed the door closed. His eyes were hungry

"Take your clothes off," Ianto said.

"Pushy," Jack said.

"I just bought those, I don't want to wash them, take them off." Ianto ran his hands up under the jumper.

"I like pushy," Jack said.

Ianto played rugby all through school. He wasn't delicate; he wasn't prissy, nor even naturally tidy. He'd learned to be controlled and quiet and precise, because it was extremely useful, but sometimes... well, sometimes it wasn't, especially when he'd just saved the entire fucking world with his hands and the bruises on his back.

Ianto stripped the new jumper off. There were blinds between them and the main room, but they weren't opaque. He didn't care. Jack's cuffs weren't buttoned, so Ianto shoved down the braces and pulled the shirt and undershirt off over his head without popping a single button. Jack emerged rumpled and grinning. "I really like pushy," Jack said. He sat in his desk chair.

He wasn't wearing his boots. How had Ianto not noticed that he hadn't put his boots back on? He feet were white-socked, nothing more, with a perfect footprint of damp dirt on the bottom. "Aren't your feet cold?" Ianto asked.

"Yes," Jack said.

Ianto didn't strip off Jack's socks. He took Jack's new trousers and underwear off, knelt between Jack's thighs, and held Jack's feet against his own thighs to keep them warm while he sucked Jack's cock.

"Ianto, why do you care so much?" Jack whispered. He arched his neck against the chair back.

Because Jack was his monster, his captain, his responsibility, all his, that was why. But he didn't answer. It was easy not to answer with a cock in his mouth.

The chair squeaked backwards as Jack flexed his body, forward again when Ianto pulled back on his ankles. He could deep throat, he could do anything to Jack's cock by now, even though Jack swore up and down he'd had enlargement surgery in Barcelona. Such a liar. He was such a liar, and Ianto loved it. He knew Jack wasn't born in Mexico, by the simple reason that he had said he was. That was the thing that Ianto always ruled out.

"Ianto," Jack said. He touched Ianto's cheek, because he always did, letting Ianto pull off in time. Ianto opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue like a blue movie, and Jack looked down at him and saw that and his eyes widened and he came on Ianto's face, crying out, saying, "Oh, God, you're something else."

"No, sir, I'm an open book." Ianto wiped off his face and licked his lips and climbed into Jack's lap.

Jack kissed him. "Bound in leather, containing red hot pornographic pictures. A rare edition," he said. Ianto was unbuckling his belt while Jack tried to pull his shirt up; their hands crossed and tangled briefly, then Jack let go and let Ianto do what he wanted.

"With your hands, that--like before, that one--" That time Jack made him come so hard. He couldn't say it, but Jack knew what he meant. He opened his desk drawer. Ianto knelt up, seizing the back of the chair.

Jack slipped a hand into his trousers. His fingers were cold, but in the most delicious way, and they prised open Ianto's body like a key opening a lock.

"Sir," Ianto whispered. Jack folded his other arm around Ianto's body and pressed his face to Ianto's stomach. He barely moved but for the gestures of his fingertips deep inside Ianto and the hot suction of breath through Ianto's waistcoat. Ianto's cock quivered in the hollow of his throat.

He was frozen, there, on the edge, and the slightest move would throw him over. "Oh," was caught in his throat, endlessly, and the wave crested within him, building until his thighs shook and he collapsed into Jack's arms, thrusting and coming and crumpling against his chest.

Jack swept his hand through Ianto's hair. Each stroke felt like an aftershock in his scalp; Jack's other hand was still inside Ianto's body. Ianto kissed him and found him shivering. He pulled the blanket around them both.

"We saved the world just then," Ianto said.

"Yeah, we did."

"I've never done that before."

"You sure?"

"Just nearly accidentally destroyed it." Ianto kissed him. "You did the saving that last time. And the time before that. And however many times while you were gone."

"Okay. You're right. I'm not good at sharing." Jack moved his fingers, and Ianto bit his lip. "I'm bad at threesomes. I want all the attention on me. Do you like this?"

Jack's fingers, pressing against too-sensitive parts. "I don't know. I-- I can't--" It almost hurt, but it was so intimate, Ianto didn't want to stop.

"Are you done shagging?" Owen asked over the headset. Ianto shivered all over and straightened up in the chair.

"No," Jack replied.

"You know we can hear you," Owen said. "Not Ianto, though. Stop taking advantage of the poor lad's innocence."

Ianto turned Jack's headset off. "Later." Jack kissed the inside of his arm and gently pulled out.

Jack was the only messy one. Ianto tucked his shirt back in, buckled his belt, smoothed his waistcoat, checked his hair in the mirror, and was out the door in under a minute.

Owen eyed him skeptically. "I know what you two were doing."

"I was cutting the tags out of his new clothes," Ianto said.

"You're not fooling anyone."

"I'm sure I'm not." Ianto gathered up the teacups. Smell wouldn't give him away, he knew. Jack and his lube smelled of bergamot.

"He's a noisy bastard when he shags."

And the first aid kit, that needed to be put away as well. "Is he?"

"Just tell me, all right?" Owen draped his arm around Ianto's shoulder. Ianto walked back into the kitchen, towing Owen along with him. "Is he a shower or a grower?"

"Come on, he's built like modern art. Got to be a shower," Gwen said. She and Tosh were grinning around the kitchen table.

"If you ask him nicely, I'm sure he'll demonstrate." Ianto set the tray on the sink. He took the apron off the hook and started the washing up.

"We're so happy for you, really," Tosh said.

"Are you?"

"Chatting about your boyfriend's dick is the chief joy of having them, Ianto," Owen said. Still standing too close. Ianto splashed him with the soap.

"Then you're doing it wrong," Jack said.

Owen laughed deep in his throat. "I suppose I'll take your word for that."

"How is the machine doing, Tosh?" Jack asked.

"Still quiet. The automatic alerts are back up."

"All right. Let's go see if anything else is on fire, shall we?" Jack chased them out of the kitchen, pausing for a moment to run his thumb down the back of Ianto's neck.

"Later," Ianto said softly, shivering when Jack took his hand away.

Then the others were off, running around the Hub. Ianto stacked the teacups in the drainer. "I'll be in the tourist office," he said into the headset. "Can't stay closed all day."

"Of course you can," Jack replied.

"Sorry. We Welsh have a work ethic." Ianto headed up to the surface. He liked it, to tell the truth. Underground all the time, he started feeling like a mushroom.

He had a stack of books under the till. He was halfway through "On Her Majesty's Secret Service," but really, when you were living in a spy movie twenty-four hours a day, the novels weren't as interesting, so he picked up "Pride and Prejudice" instead.

After a moment, he slipped the cover off the Bond novel and folded it over the Austen. He smiled and sat back in his chair.

The End.
Tags: undercover
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