Reality Betrays Us All IV

[anastasisrick]

Title: Reality Betrays Us All

Author: anastasisrick

Prompt: Hoffman

Beta: janiemc (special thanks for helping me at the last minute)

Characters/Pairings: Jack Hakrness, Ianto Jones, Jack/Ianto

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: None that I can think about.

Spoilers: It’s totally AU so other than making the story fit to what we know, not really

Word Count: 13300

Genre: Romance, AU

Disclaimer: Torchwood and its characters belongs to BBC and Russell T Davies. Hoffman isn’t mine either. It belongs to Associated British Picture Corporation (ABPC) & Longstone Film Productions

Summary: When Ianto Jones is blackmailed to spend a week with a stranger to save his fiance's life, his own life is going to change forever.

Notes: This story is written for reel_torchwood

 

IV

 

Jack woke up before his alarm ring. He turned it off and rose on his elbow to watch the man sleeping by his side. Despite Jack’s feeling well rested –he really hadn’t slept so well for a long time- Ianto looked too pale with dark circles around his eyes. But as beautiful as ever… not exactly as naked as he’d like him to be but as close to that as he could get. Ianto’s hands were wrapped around the blanket as if he was holding the cloth as a shield against Jack. The Captain leaned down and inhaled. Ianto’s smell called out to him. He kissed the younger man’s nose and felt the stirrings of desire. But now was not the time for it.

 

“Mr. Jones…” He whispered, nuzzling the man’s neck. “Come on, Ianto wake up, Ianto?” He accompanied the words with soft kisses on Ianto’s neck and cheeks. Sleepy, blue eyes opened and Ianto smiled at him before he remembered where he was. Ianto pushed both Jack and the covers off himself and was standing in a matter of seconds.

 

“…Ummm, what were you doing?” Ianto’s accent was even thicker than usual.

 

“Waking you up. Would you make me, us, some of your magical coffee?” Jack asked, his eyes looking innocently at his prey.

 

“Sure?” Surprise was the least of what Ianto felt at the moment. He had woken up to Jack kissing him and he was asked to make a coffee? Was the man changing his mind more often than… he couldn’t continue with his train of thought as Jack sauntered in, dressed in black jogging bottoms and a dark blue sweat shirt.

 

“We’ll go running today, Ianto.” Jack said smiling. “I hope you’ve brought clothes with you.”

 

“Running?”

 

“Oh yes!”

 

Ianto had indeed brought clothes for running. “But I haven’t got the right shoes for it.”

 

Jack looked perplexed for a moment and then he grin. Then use what you have.”

 

Ianto’s pair of loafers, even though made by soft leather did not match with Jack’s idea of running and exercising. Upon returning to Jack’s apartment several hours later Ianto realised his feet were bloodied and had blisters. He tried to clean it up after his much needed shower but came out of the bathroom barefoot and in pain.

 

“Oh the youth of today. So easily tired, so easily broken.” Jack said entering the kitchen and stopped in his tracks when he saw Ianto trying to apply cream on the broken skin. He sat down next to him grabbing the cream from the long fingers. “Here, let me.”

 

“I can do it.”

 

“I know you can. You can climb Everest given the opportunity. How did this happen?”

 

“The inappropriate shoes that I had to wear.” Ianto said angrily as Jack gently applied the cream and covered it with gauze. He then left Ianto alone for a while to go and prepare some sandwiches for both of them.

 

When he returned they ate in silence both thinking of the day’s events. Despite his pain, Ianto had had a good day, seeing bits of London he hadn’t seen before. Jack seemed to know every little detail of it. Ianto’s eyes closed from tiredness and since the previous night he hadn’t slept well he soon dozed off under Jack watchful eye. 

 

Jack watched Ianto carefully, from the wet, dark hair to the white, slim feet. As the younger man slept Jack thought that there was an aspect in his plan he hadn’t considered. And that aspect was now biting him in the butt. It was life’s revenge, he suspected. But even now, in the first twenty four hours, he knew he’d want to spend more time with the young man and not just the days he had stolen.

 

Damn Lisa.

 

He leaned over the pale face and slowly woke up Ianto. “Come on, time for bed.”

 

For the second day that day Ianto first and second reaction to being woken by Jack was disjointed; sleepy smile at first, followed by shock and fear. “No, I don’t want to go to bed.”

 

“Sure you do. You’re dead on your feet.”

 

Ianto’s blue eyes settled on him. “Bed? To sleep?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Ianto’s panic subsided. “Only to… OK.”

 

Jack put Ianto to bed, covering him with a burgundy blanket. The young man’s eyes closed immediately and he fell asleep. Jack was surprised to see that Ianto trusted him. Or maybe he was just too tired to care. Either way he sighed sadly. “Wake up, Ianto, wake up.” He whispered to the sleeping man.

 

The night had fallen; the street’s lights were bright under the dark sky. Christmas was close and Jack felt more alone that he had in a long time. The seasonal celebrations would find him by himself. For the first time he wanted to have someone… no! Ianto, he wanted Ianto to share the holidays with. This was not part of the plan. Lisa Hallett was not going to have Ianto Jones back if Jack Harkness could prevent it.

 

Going to his bed a couple of hours later he once again slept with Ianto in his arms; the fact that the archivist hadn’t woken even as he pulled the covers over both of them, spoke volumes about how tired he was… and maybe, that he wasn’t as afraid of Jack as his reactions wanted to him believe. Smiling, Jack kissed Ianto’s temple and closed his eyes feeling warm.

 

It was much later, when Ianto woke up and untangled himself from Jack that he came to the same conclusion. It was strange but in the course of a day Ianto had stopped being afraid of being raped in his sleep. He straightened up and wondered if Jack wanted to lure him into a state of false security. If that was the case then Jack would have to deal with a lot of pain in the nether regions of his body.

 

And what about Lisa?

 

Ianto startled. He had forgotten all about Lisa. What was wrong with him?

 

He went to the bathroom, took a basin with warm water, carried it to the kitchen, put a couple of Jack’s old aspirins in it to melt and sat down with a book he found on a self. With his feet inside the warm water and his mind in turmoil because of his earlier thought he opened the book. It was the Murder in the Vicarage, Agatha Christie’s first novel to feature the character of Miss Marple.

 

"In the peaceful village of St. Mary Mead nothing ever happens. So it seems almost incredible when Colonel Protheroe, the churchwarden, is discovered, shot through the head, in the Vicarage study. Everybody thinks they know who has done it – including Miss Marple, the real old maid of the village who knows everything and sees everything and hears everything! She declares that at least seven people have reasons for wishing Colonel Protheroe out of the way! Excitement dies down when somebody confesses to having committed the crime. But that is not the end, for almost immediately somebody quite different also confesses! And there is a third confession through the telephone! But who really killed Colonel Protheroe?”

 

Ianto had read the book when he was a child, so he knew the plot and the ending. Letting himself wander in 1920s England helped his troubled mind though. After forty five minutes of undisturbed reading, Ianto turned the pages back to the first to see the name of the owner of the book.

 

There, in the first page of the book was the name ‘John Hart’ and with a different pen and handwriting was added ‘Harkness’. Ianto wondered what that meant. Who was this man? Had Jack been married to this John? Ianto got up and looked at the shelf he had taken the book from and found another one; notebook this time. It was written in a handwriting he knew very well. It was Jack’s. Ianto couldn’t believe Jack had left something like that in open view. Still, his curiosity overtook the better part of him, and he opened it.

 

What he could gather was that John was not Jack’s husband but rather a partner who had disappeared suddenly. From what he read, Jack seemed to care a lot about him. Ianto heard noise from the bedroom and rushed to put both items back in their place before the older man caught him snooping around.

 

Jack came in smiling at Ianto who looked back at him in something akin to pity.  Looking at Ianto distrustfully he asked. “What?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Are you sure it’s nothing? Don’t forget I’ve been watching you for twelve months. Don’t you try to fool me, Ianto Jones.” Jack said looking around his gaze stopping at the shelf and then returning to Ianto. “Did you read it?”

 

Ianto could attempt to lie, but what would the point be? He nodded instead. “Not all of it.” He said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

 

“What for? John’s leaving or for reading something that was clearly personal?”

 

“Sorry. Didn’t know what it was… and then.”

 

“And then what?” Jack leaned to where Ianto was sitting, his face almost touching the younger man’s. He suddenly pulled back and went to the shelf picking the notebook. “Did you read the last pages?”

 

“No… I didn’t mean to…” Ianto tried to defend himself.

 

“Oh you didn’t. That’s alright. Only you missed the best part. Here, let me tell you…” And Jack started reading. “A whole week to have him with me. How much can I do to him in seven days? Will all that torture of tight suits and deep coloured shirts be compensated? Ianto Jones’ naked, pale body underneath mine, mouth gasping and moaning as fingernails….”

 

“Stop this.”

 

“What? You don’t like it?” Jack’s hurt and anger at being betrayed by Ianto’s reading his notebook disappeared as he saw the panic returning to Ianto’s eyes. The desire to hug Ianto and be hugged in return, of being touched by those long, muscular arms was very strong. But he had to squash it for now. “You can’t win in this game, Ianto. You don’t know the rules.”

 

“Rules?” For as long as he known Ianto, Jack had never before these couple of days had heard him respond so monosyllabically.

 

“Let’s have breakfast and forget this ever happened.”

 

Later that morning, Ianto asked some questions about John all of which Jack answered hiding the worst of the past and then they went shopping with Jack taking charge of everything. The older man had decided that only by taking care of someone who always took care of others and that was how he thought of Ianto, would he make his point to the young man. He only hoped it was enough.

 

They ate in silence, just like the day before. The only difference, Ianto didn’t fall asleep with the sandwich in his hand. Instead, he got up and went to wash the few dishes they had used. Jack sat on the piano and hit the keys not knowing what to play.

 

Soon he started playing and singing.

 

“Try to remember the kind of September, when life was slow and oh, so mellow.
Try to remember the kind of September when grass was green and grain was yellow…” and he suddenly stopped.

 

Ianto had finished the dishes and had sat opposite of the piano. When Jack stopped he got up and walked closer. “Why did you stop?” He asked.

 

“An amateur performance, Ianto, not a real one.”

 

“I think I know the song though, please continue…” Ianto’s big blue eyes stared down at him and Jack couldn’t refuse. His plan was going to hell, he realized just as he started playing again.

 

“Try to remember the kind of September when you were a tender and callow fellow.
Try to remember, and if you remember, then follow, follow, follow… Deep in December, it's nice to remember, although you know the snow will follow. Deep in December, it's nice to remember, without a hurt the heart is hollow. Deep in December, it's nice to remember, the fire of September that made us mellow. Deep in December, our hearts should remember, and follow.”

 

“Well you sing really well, I wouldn’t call it exactly amateurish you know. And the guy who sings it was the one in Law and Order wasn’t it?”

 

“I don’t know, Ianto. It’s from a musical called the Fantasticks.”

 

“Jerry Orbach.”

 

“Then yes, I think it was Jerry Orbach. Didn’t know you like musicals.”

 

“Well, I don’t. Mom does though and I’ve heard more than my fair share.” Ianto said with a shy smile making his statement only half true.

 

‘You know what they say about men who like musicals.”

 

“… stupid stereotypes.”

 

“Oh I wouldn’t say so.” Jack said leering at Ianto, getting up from his seat and moving around the piano to stand in front of his guest his arms on either side of Ianto’s body, hands resting on the piano. A small movement would bring their faces together; they breathed each others’ air.

 

“Why don’t you want me to like you?” Ianto asked, putting both his hands on Jack’s chest pushing him a little away from him.

 

“Why don’t you stop staring me in the face with your doomed youth? I didn’t invent like and dislike, Mr Jones.”

 

“And what’s with that? Why don’t you call me either Ianto or Mr Jones, why do you keep changing between the two?” Ianto asked his hands still on Jack’s chest.

 

Jack took them with his own startling the younger man once again. “Why don’t you call me Jack?”

 

Ianto looked away and Jack had the pleasure of witnessing the pale skin turning red if only for a little while. “It’s inappropriate, you’re my Boss.”

 

“You’re forgetting what you’re here to do.” Ianto’s eyes were oozing hurt when he turned to look at him. Jack cursed himself. One step forward, two steps backwards. He was bound to screw everything up again. He let Ianto’s hands go and moved away.

 

Jack gave Ianto a glass of wine and went back to the piano to play another song.

 

It was the third night they would share a bed and Ianto wasn’t as panicked as he had been the first night. He strongly believed that Jack wouldn’t ask to have sex with him in the end. Coming out of the bathroom he found his host under the covers, the laptop on his lap.

 

Ianto settled by him quietly. “Any news from work?”

 

“I spoke with Tosh and Owen. Everything’s fine.” Jack said and logged off leaving his laptop on the floor.

 

Ianto was staring in the ceiling when Jack turned to see him. “I’ve planned something for tomorrow so try to get some sleep.”

 

“But…?”

 

“I won’t jump you.” Jack’s look was full of a different kind of promise and want though. “Not tonight at least.” He said making Ianto wonder if he’d ever feel the same again around Jack Harkness.

 

Still, it was easier to fall asleep next to a man that three days ago he had wanted to kill in a slow, agonizing death.

tbc at anastasisrick.dreamwidth.org/3764.html