|the pocket otter (pocketotter) wrote in torchwood_fic,|
@ 2009-05-12 21:46:00
|Entry tags:||author:pocketotter, length:one-shot, pairing:jack/ianto, rating:pg-13|
Fic: Five Conversations Jack and Ianto Had Between The Lines
Title: Five Conversations Jack and Ianto Had Between The Lines
1. I feel comfortable around you.
The first coffee of the day is a ritual. Jack emerges from the bunker under his office rarely fully dressed, shirt unbuttoned, braces hanging from his hips as he sinks into the chair behind his desk. Ianto knocks once and comes in without waiting, tray balanced in one hand, two mugs centered perfectly, and passes Jack's over before putting the tray down on his own side of the desk, taking his own chair. Sometimes their fingers touch, but not always.
They sit in companionable silence, listening to the sounds of the Hub; Myfanwy rustles in her nest, mostly asleep, and various computers make computer-like whirrs and beeps. Other soft noises are harder to identify, but if they were absent they'd be missed.
Ianto watches Jack as he reads his email, idly cataloging the micro-expressions that cross his face as he drinks his coffee, and when they are both finally done their eyes meet as empty mugs are replaced on the tray. Ianto smiles quietly; Jack's reply is flashier and broader, and when Ianto leaves there is something of a spring in his step.
2. Be careful.
The word is bellowed through the Hub, Jack's voice - like everything about him - larger than life, and Ianto looks up from the detritus he's cleaning to see him standing on the catwalk outside his office. "Sir?"
"Reports of activity up around Cathays Park. I'm taking Gwen up to check it out, I want you on comms in case we need anything."
His nod is crisp and precise as he pulls his earpiece from his jacket pocket. "If you could moderate your driving, sir, I've only just had the SUV re-serviced."
Jack only grins at the mild rebuke, offering a wave as he jogs down the stairs, and Ianto shakes his head as he returns to his work.
3. You're sometimes an arsehole.
Ianto has unique ways of expressing displeasure. Nothing so predictable as messing with his coffee; it's still made perfectly, if a little sparser than usual and, once, left on his desk to get cold rather than delivered to the basement that Jack knows Ianto could have found him in easily enough if he'd wanted to.
Instead, his chair is two inches lower than he expects it to be and he drops into it with a thud that resonates through his tailbone. He has five new emails containing reports written in such a way to make his eyes glaze over several times (including a slightly more palatable but rather lengthy one from Tosh, the traitor). The secret stash of chocolate biscuits in his drawer has not been restocked, one solitary snack sitting in the box surrounded by doleful-looking crumbs.
Worst of all, when he emerges later to go out again, expecting Ianto to be there with his coat, the Welshman merely gives him a pleasant, professional smile. "I'm afraid your coat is still at the drycleaners, sir. With what you'd done to it, I thought it prudent to mention that speed was not of the essence."
The rest of it was tolerable, but his coat! Jack resolves to find some way to make it up to Ianto... later.
4. I'm sorry.
Unfortunately Ianto is unimpressed with playful jokes and a Weevil that Jack wrestles into one of the cells - "Look, I brought you my prey!" And while he would never dare infringe on the territory of coffee (he knows how to appreciate it, but none of the nuances of how Ianto gets it like that), he did think to stop by the shops for the milk, bread and biros they were low on.
How is he to know the difference between full and skim and 2% and the million other varieties they offer these days? More importantly, how is he to know which was the right one?
"I'll just use it for Owen," Ianto says grudgingly though, and Jack thinks he might be starting to thaw a little.
A little while later Jack pauses behind him to rub the tense muscles in his shoulders and neck, and Ianto leans back into the touch. "You've been working since seven," he murmurs, breath making a few strands of dark hair drift a little, and Ianto closes his eyes.
"I still have to pick up your coat."
5. I'm glad I have you.
For someone who likes to sprawl out so much, Jack has a ridiculously small bed. Ianto has had to get used to limbs thrown haphazardly across him, heavy and warm and strangely intimate - which is an odd way to feel, considering that he's had all sorts of Jack's body parts in close contact to all sorts of his body parts in very much more intimate fashion.
He waits until Jack seems to be settled before sighing, picking up the stray arm and shifting it to a slightly more comfortable location. Jack chuckles, the sound low and drowsy in the small space, and his grip on Ianto's waist tightens slightly. "Want me to budge over?" he asks.
"No," Ianto says. "This is fine."