sam_storyteller (![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-18 10:20 am
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-18 10:20 am
Ignition; Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, PG-13
Title: Ignition
Notes: Jack/Ianto. Set just post "Countrycide", series 1. No spoilers for S2.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Owen was still grumbling about camping and Gwen was hiding out in the medical bay most of the time and Tosh obsessively checked Rift activity to cope with what they'd seen but Ianto, gorgeous fucked-up Ianto, had taken control of the one thing from their misadventures in the countryside that he could control.
Warnings: None.
First Posted 2/17/08.
Now available at AO3!
After the cannibals, Gwen and Ianto went a little funny in the head for a day or two.
In Jack's eyes, actually, they all did, perhaps because they weren't used to the atrocities a human could inflict on another human. They watched war on TV like some kind of fictional drama, and even then it wasn't the same kind of war. Jack had lived war; he'd met men who'd eaten human flesh not because they wanted to but because after a week of starving to death in a muddy trench any meat is good meat.
He'd preferred to starve, but then he could starve forever if he chose.
Owen was used to seeing the insides of humans on the outside, and at least coped better than most. In fact, he seemed to bounce back the fastest of any of them. Tosh wasn't far behind; she'd had to run but she hadn't been shot (and then headfucked) like Gwen, and she hadn't been beaten as thoroughly as Ianto.
It wasn't that Ianto recovered before Gwen; it was more that he normalised first. As soon as he could move without stiffness he was back to blending in, disappearing at odd times, always present when needed but never when not. Jack didn't like the secrecy. It smacked too much of Lisa. So he let Owen handle Gwen because he sensed something beyond the boss's purview was going on there, and he made sure to flirt with Tosh for good measure, and after two days he went looking for Ianto.
He had to look him up an hour before on the CCTV and follow him throughout the Hub as he gathered an assortment of odds and ends; it looked at first like he was tidying, but the things he picked up were not trash, were not even out of place. Spare electrics from Tosh's station, piping from the junk pile, a spanner set and a hammer from the tool shelf. Jack grew more and more concerned as he watched Ianto, half an hour previous on the CCTV playback, checking Tosh's workstation when she left it and then disappearing through the door with a sackful of components.
"Tosh," he said, descending the stairs. "Are you missing inventory?"
Tosh glanced at the bins of spare parts, wires hanging crazily. "I don't think so. Why?"
"I thought I saw Ianto leaving with something from your station."
"Oh -- yeah, he asked if he could scavenge. Something about the SUV needing work," she said, absently clicking through weather reports for the next few days.
"What's he doing, turbocharging it?"
She shrugged, then paused, then looked at him.
"You don't think he's...building something, do you?" she asked.
"No, I'm sure he's just souping the car," Jack said, not at all sure. "What did he take?"
"Dunno...looks like a few broken radio transmitters, a webcam and monitor, and...old video-game joystick?" Tosh's brow furrowed. "Don't see what he'd need that for. Unless Owen lifted it, he never asks."
"Were the radio transmitters functional?"
"No, but Ianto's...um. Good with electronics," Tosh said in a small voice.
"I know. Don't worry about it, I'll find him."
She went back to her work, but he could feel her eyes on him as he passed through the entry to the Hub and turned to the access doors. They led out to the secure level of the parking garage, where two SUVs and a confiscated alien-modified Vespa were kept. Normally the cars were parked neatly side by side. This time, one of them had been pulled out of its space, its bonnet popped and sitting half-open, a torch dangling from a hook in the underside. The driver's-side door was open, and tools were strewn liberally around the car's front tyres.
Well, at least Ianto hadn't been lying or building himself a (new) robot girlfriend or something.
A pair of dirty grey trainers and the legs of some battered jeans were visible, protruding from underneath the open driver's door; as Jack watched, the left trainer touched the concrete and his knee bent, pulling him forward on a mechanic's dolly, far enough for most of his lower body to be visible. Jack tilted his head and admired the view.
"She doesn't look like much, but I bet she wins all the drag races," he said, his voice echoing back to him off the cement walls. There was a clank from the car. Jack tried again. "How are those vibrating bucket seats coming?"
"You'll have to properly requisition those," Ianto said, in his best Sir is pleased to be amusing voice. Jack knelt by the dolly, trying to peer under the car.
"Whatcha doing, Ianto?" he asked, allowing an edge of Sir is pleased to be answered promptly into his voice.
"Modifications," Ianto replied. "And steering calibration."
"Did it need it?"
"Yes," Ianto said briefly. Jack turned and sat with his back against the rear door, resting his wrists on his knees.
"I didn't know you were qualified to recalibrate the steering on an SUV," he said.
"Form follows function," Ianto replied. Jack glanced down at where his hips were flexing slightly as he worked.
"How do you mean?"
"There are only so many ways to build a steering mechanism. Learned on Dad's old car. It's different, but it's not hard to suss out."
"Can I help?"
A hand emerged. "Ratchet, please."
Jack picked up the shiny silver tool sitting near his foot and passed it under.
"I don't think I've ever heard you talk about your dad," Jack observed.
"Wasn't relevant." There was a grunt. This was almost better than pornography. Jack stuffed the thought away.
"It's relevant to me."
"He's in my file."
"I didn't mean where he lives or how old he is," Jack answered, annoyed.
"I fail to see what relevance my father has to Torchwood, sir."
Jack sighed. "Because it's you talking about him."
Both of Ianto's hands gripped the runnerboard of the car and he slid himself out, looking up at Jack from the dolly.
Definitely better than pornography. And, given how incredibly damaged Ianto was, so inappropriate right now.
"Wrong ratchet," Ianto said, sitting up and digging through the toolbox. He found a wider fixture, popped it into the handle, and disappeared under the car again. Jack, looking into the car, noticed two red wires hanging down from the steering column. He had the sudden insane thought that Ianto was installing a car bomb, but even Ianto wasn't psychopathic enough to install a bomb while his boss tried to bond with him.
It occurred to Jack that Ianto probably had no clue what Jack was doing there or why he kept talking to him.
"You didn't tell me you were modding the car," he said.
"Would have told you when it was done."
"When would that be?"
There was a clank, and Ianto slid out from under the car again. This time he got up and slid into the seat, reaching down without looking to collect the wires up.
"About four minutes. Sir," he added, with what was almost a touch of insolence. At least insolence was an emotion, on the other hand. "There are two plastic semicircles near your right hand."
Jack passed them over silently, not moving from his seat. Idly, he slid the dolly back and forth with one hand while he watched Ianto fit the plastic over the steering column, then solder the wires to the underside with a cordless iron and tuck the loose slack inside the dashboard housing. He climbed out again and Jack stood up as Ianto took down the torch, unpropped the bonnet, and closed it with a sharp metallic clang.
"So what does it do?" Jack asked, nodding at the steering wheel as Ianto gathered the scattered tools and parts, piling them in a tidy pyramid.
"Nothing, yet," Ianto replied, lifting a small black box off the passenger's seat -- Tosh's video-game joystick, the small digital monitor mounted on the front and a telescoping metal rod deftly attached to one end. He opened it and his posture spoke of intense, focused concentration as he tightened a handful of screws inside. When it was shut again, he flicked a button on the side and the seams of the box glowed green. He wiped a hand across his cheeks, apparently pleased with himself, and left a long smear of grease behind.
"Keys?" he said. Jack held them up. Ianto took them, fired the ignition, released the emergency brake, and shut the door. Then he offered the joystick to Jack. The screen showed a view through the windshield.
"Press the top left button."
Jack obeyed. The power locks slammed down.
"Top right."
The engine revved. Jack stared down at the little controller and felt his pulse jump. Slowly, he eased the joystick forward. The car obediently rolled ahead ten or twelve feet, stopping when he released it.
"I've modified the transmitters with some of those Cartaxian comm devices we picked up," Ianto said quietly. "It's rated for six hundred miles."
Jack backed the car slowly and then turned it, slaloming it deftly through the empty garage. Ianto's faint, hesitant smile grew wider as he watched the car weave, stop, back, and leap forward again. He pushed the speed up and skewed it into a spinning stop. Ianto let out an unrestrained, undisciplined whoop of triumph and Jack glanced at him, startled.
"How'd you learn the electronics?" he asked, carefully backing the car towards them again. They could never tell Owen about this. Ever. It would end in tears and shattered windshields.
"Used to take apart remote control cars when I was a kid," Ianto replied, gleefully watching the car's brake lights flicker. "Used to take everything apart, really," he added. Jack offered him the joystick.
Ianto, ever the cleaner, simply moved the SUV into its parking spot again and unlocked it, reaching inside to shut it down and remove the keys. Jack leaned against the car, hands in his pockets, as Ianto studied his smeary reflection in the window.
"We have GPS tracking on them," Jack said.
"I know."
"So this is just an added extra?"
A muscle in Ianto's jaw twitched as he took a rag from his pocket wiped his fingers on it, carefully wiping down the joystick as well.
"Next time some bastard steals our car, they won't get very far, that's all," he said, looking down.
Everything coalesced for Jack at once; Owen was still grumbling about camping and Gwen was hiding out in the medical bay most of the time and Tosh obsessively checked Rift activity to cope with what they'd seen but Ianto, gorgeous fucked-up Ianto, had taken control of the one thing from their misadventures in the countryside that he could control. And he hadn't told anyone because he assumed nobody would care; he hadn't even tried to talk about what they'd seen because he still thought he was somehow outcast for what he'd done when they killed Lisa.
Jack reached out impulsively, tipped his chin up with one hand, and kissed him.
Ianto's whole body tensed. He didn't exactly accept the kiss, but he didn't reject it either; after a few seconds Jack gave up and leaned back. The man had the biggest eyes Jack had seen on anyone in decades, and they were wide with naked, vulnerable shock. He looked at Jack, looked away, tugged anxiously at the hem of his shirt, looked at Jack.
Well, nobody ever recovered from failure by loping away with their tail between their legs. Jack leaned forward again, pausing to give him the opportunity to pull away, and tried a second time.
Ianto's hand touched his cheek, fingertips still smooth from the grease, and his body turned slightly, mouth sliding open. Jack did love a man who took hints well. He grasped Ianto's wrist and turned him fully, angling his body against the car's metal panels, trapping him between Jack's body and the door. Ianto kissed like he was running, breath ghosting across Jack's lips, chest heaving.
Jack broke the kiss at the natural moment (uncovered through years of extensive, enjoyable research) and touched his own cheek, where Ianto had.
"Any grease?" he asked.
"N-no," Ianto stammered. Jack smiled at him and rested a hand against the car, just to one side of Ianto's shoulder.
"I should clean up," Ianto murmured. "Almost time to leave."
Jack rubbed his thumb along Ianto's bottom lip. Because he could.
"So clever, so pretty, so shy," he said with a mock sigh, and pushed away from the car. He didn't look to see if Ianto was following him; he was probably still leaning on the door in shock. Which was just how Jack liked to leave people: bewildered and aroused.
Well, if Ianto had needed a prop to his ego he had it, and if he wanted to take up with Jack he knew the door was open. It would do him good to have a little human contact. It would do him a whole world's worth of good to get laid with someone who still had all the working parts.
Jack grinned as he climbed the stairs to his office. A few minutes later, Ianto slunk through the Hub like a guilty man, collected his things, and bolted.
Confusion was usually the first step on the road to regaining one's sanity. And Jack could well afford to spend time confusing Ianto just as much as he needed it, for as long as he needed it.
END
Notes: Jack/Ianto. Set just post "Countrycide", series 1. No spoilers for S2.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Owen was still grumbling about camping and Gwen was hiding out in the medical bay most of the time and Tosh obsessively checked Rift activity to cope with what they'd seen but Ianto, gorgeous fucked-up Ianto, had taken control of the one thing from their misadventures in the countryside that he could control.
Warnings: None.
First Posted 2/17/08.
Now available at AO3!
After the cannibals, Gwen and Ianto went a little funny in the head for a day or two.
In Jack's eyes, actually, they all did, perhaps because they weren't used to the atrocities a human could inflict on another human. They watched war on TV like some kind of fictional drama, and even then it wasn't the same kind of war. Jack had lived war; he'd met men who'd eaten human flesh not because they wanted to but because after a week of starving to death in a muddy trench any meat is good meat.
He'd preferred to starve, but then he could starve forever if he chose.
Owen was used to seeing the insides of humans on the outside, and at least coped better than most. In fact, he seemed to bounce back the fastest of any of them. Tosh wasn't far behind; she'd had to run but she hadn't been shot (and then headfucked) like Gwen, and she hadn't been beaten as thoroughly as Ianto.
It wasn't that Ianto recovered before Gwen; it was more that he normalised first. As soon as he could move without stiffness he was back to blending in, disappearing at odd times, always present when needed but never when not. Jack didn't like the secrecy. It smacked too much of Lisa. So he let Owen handle Gwen because he sensed something beyond the boss's purview was going on there, and he made sure to flirt with Tosh for good measure, and after two days he went looking for Ianto.
He had to look him up an hour before on the CCTV and follow him throughout the Hub as he gathered an assortment of odds and ends; it looked at first like he was tidying, but the things he picked up were not trash, were not even out of place. Spare electrics from Tosh's station, piping from the junk pile, a spanner set and a hammer from the tool shelf. Jack grew more and more concerned as he watched Ianto, half an hour previous on the CCTV playback, checking Tosh's workstation when she left it and then disappearing through the door with a sackful of components.
"Tosh," he said, descending the stairs. "Are you missing inventory?"
Tosh glanced at the bins of spare parts, wires hanging crazily. "I don't think so. Why?"
"I thought I saw Ianto leaving with something from your station."
"Oh -- yeah, he asked if he could scavenge. Something about the SUV needing work," she said, absently clicking through weather reports for the next few days.
"What's he doing, turbocharging it?"
She shrugged, then paused, then looked at him.
"You don't think he's...building something, do you?" she asked.
"No, I'm sure he's just souping the car," Jack said, not at all sure. "What did he take?"
"Dunno...looks like a few broken radio transmitters, a webcam and monitor, and...old video-game joystick?" Tosh's brow furrowed. "Don't see what he'd need that for. Unless Owen lifted it, he never asks."
"Were the radio transmitters functional?"
"No, but Ianto's...um. Good with electronics," Tosh said in a small voice.
"I know. Don't worry about it, I'll find him."
She went back to her work, but he could feel her eyes on him as he passed through the entry to the Hub and turned to the access doors. They led out to the secure level of the parking garage, where two SUVs and a confiscated alien-modified Vespa were kept. Normally the cars were parked neatly side by side. This time, one of them had been pulled out of its space, its bonnet popped and sitting half-open, a torch dangling from a hook in the underside. The driver's-side door was open, and tools were strewn liberally around the car's front tyres.
Well, at least Ianto hadn't been lying or building himself a (new) robot girlfriend or something.
A pair of dirty grey trainers and the legs of some battered jeans were visible, protruding from underneath the open driver's door; as Jack watched, the left trainer touched the concrete and his knee bent, pulling him forward on a mechanic's dolly, far enough for most of his lower body to be visible. Jack tilted his head and admired the view.
"She doesn't look like much, but I bet she wins all the drag races," he said, his voice echoing back to him off the cement walls. There was a clank from the car. Jack tried again. "How are those vibrating bucket seats coming?"
"You'll have to properly requisition those," Ianto said, in his best Sir is pleased to be amusing voice. Jack knelt by the dolly, trying to peer under the car.
"Whatcha doing, Ianto?" he asked, allowing an edge of Sir is pleased to be answered promptly into his voice.
"Modifications," Ianto replied. "And steering calibration."
"Did it need it?"
"Yes," Ianto said briefly. Jack turned and sat with his back against the rear door, resting his wrists on his knees.
"I didn't know you were qualified to recalibrate the steering on an SUV," he said.
"Form follows function," Ianto replied. Jack glanced down at where his hips were flexing slightly as he worked.
"How do you mean?"
"There are only so many ways to build a steering mechanism. Learned on Dad's old car. It's different, but it's not hard to suss out."
"Can I help?"
A hand emerged. "Ratchet, please."
Jack picked up the shiny silver tool sitting near his foot and passed it under.
"I don't think I've ever heard you talk about your dad," Jack observed.
"Wasn't relevant." There was a grunt. This was almost better than pornography. Jack stuffed the thought away.
"It's relevant to me."
"He's in my file."
"I didn't mean where he lives or how old he is," Jack answered, annoyed.
"I fail to see what relevance my father has to Torchwood, sir."
Jack sighed. "Because it's you talking about him."
Both of Ianto's hands gripped the runnerboard of the car and he slid himself out, looking up at Jack from the dolly.
Definitely better than pornography. And, given how incredibly damaged Ianto was, so inappropriate right now.
"Wrong ratchet," Ianto said, sitting up and digging through the toolbox. He found a wider fixture, popped it into the handle, and disappeared under the car again. Jack, looking into the car, noticed two red wires hanging down from the steering column. He had the sudden insane thought that Ianto was installing a car bomb, but even Ianto wasn't psychopathic enough to install a bomb while his boss tried to bond with him.
It occurred to Jack that Ianto probably had no clue what Jack was doing there or why he kept talking to him.
"You didn't tell me you were modding the car," he said.
"Would have told you when it was done."
"When would that be?"
There was a clank, and Ianto slid out from under the car again. This time he got up and slid into the seat, reaching down without looking to collect the wires up.
"About four minutes. Sir," he added, with what was almost a touch of insolence. At least insolence was an emotion, on the other hand. "There are two plastic semicircles near your right hand."
Jack passed them over silently, not moving from his seat. Idly, he slid the dolly back and forth with one hand while he watched Ianto fit the plastic over the steering column, then solder the wires to the underside with a cordless iron and tuck the loose slack inside the dashboard housing. He climbed out again and Jack stood up as Ianto took down the torch, unpropped the bonnet, and closed it with a sharp metallic clang.
"So what does it do?" Jack asked, nodding at the steering wheel as Ianto gathered the scattered tools and parts, piling them in a tidy pyramid.
"Nothing, yet," Ianto replied, lifting a small black box off the passenger's seat -- Tosh's video-game joystick, the small digital monitor mounted on the front and a telescoping metal rod deftly attached to one end. He opened it and his posture spoke of intense, focused concentration as he tightened a handful of screws inside. When it was shut again, he flicked a button on the side and the seams of the box glowed green. He wiped a hand across his cheeks, apparently pleased with himself, and left a long smear of grease behind.
"Keys?" he said. Jack held them up. Ianto took them, fired the ignition, released the emergency brake, and shut the door. Then he offered the joystick to Jack. The screen showed a view through the windshield.
"Press the top left button."
Jack obeyed. The power locks slammed down.
"Top right."
The engine revved. Jack stared down at the little controller and felt his pulse jump. Slowly, he eased the joystick forward. The car obediently rolled ahead ten or twelve feet, stopping when he released it.
"I've modified the transmitters with some of those Cartaxian comm devices we picked up," Ianto said quietly. "It's rated for six hundred miles."
Jack backed the car slowly and then turned it, slaloming it deftly through the empty garage. Ianto's faint, hesitant smile grew wider as he watched the car weave, stop, back, and leap forward again. He pushed the speed up and skewed it into a spinning stop. Ianto let out an unrestrained, undisciplined whoop of triumph and Jack glanced at him, startled.
"How'd you learn the electronics?" he asked, carefully backing the car towards them again. They could never tell Owen about this. Ever. It would end in tears and shattered windshields.
"Used to take apart remote control cars when I was a kid," Ianto replied, gleefully watching the car's brake lights flicker. "Used to take everything apart, really," he added. Jack offered him the joystick.
Ianto, ever the cleaner, simply moved the SUV into its parking spot again and unlocked it, reaching inside to shut it down and remove the keys. Jack leaned against the car, hands in his pockets, as Ianto studied his smeary reflection in the window.
"We have GPS tracking on them," Jack said.
"I know."
"So this is just an added extra?"
A muscle in Ianto's jaw twitched as he took a rag from his pocket wiped his fingers on it, carefully wiping down the joystick as well.
"Next time some bastard steals our car, they won't get very far, that's all," he said, looking down.
Everything coalesced for Jack at once; Owen was still grumbling about camping and Gwen was hiding out in the medical bay most of the time and Tosh obsessively checked Rift activity to cope with what they'd seen but Ianto, gorgeous fucked-up Ianto, had taken control of the one thing from their misadventures in the countryside that he could control. And he hadn't told anyone because he assumed nobody would care; he hadn't even tried to talk about what they'd seen because he still thought he was somehow outcast for what he'd done when they killed Lisa.
Jack reached out impulsively, tipped his chin up with one hand, and kissed him.
Ianto's whole body tensed. He didn't exactly accept the kiss, but he didn't reject it either; after a few seconds Jack gave up and leaned back. The man had the biggest eyes Jack had seen on anyone in decades, and they were wide with naked, vulnerable shock. He looked at Jack, looked away, tugged anxiously at the hem of his shirt, looked at Jack.
Well, nobody ever recovered from failure by loping away with their tail between their legs. Jack leaned forward again, pausing to give him the opportunity to pull away, and tried a second time.
Ianto's hand touched his cheek, fingertips still smooth from the grease, and his body turned slightly, mouth sliding open. Jack did love a man who took hints well. He grasped Ianto's wrist and turned him fully, angling his body against the car's metal panels, trapping him between Jack's body and the door. Ianto kissed like he was running, breath ghosting across Jack's lips, chest heaving.
Jack broke the kiss at the natural moment (uncovered through years of extensive, enjoyable research) and touched his own cheek, where Ianto had.
"Any grease?" he asked.
"N-no," Ianto stammered. Jack smiled at him and rested a hand against the car, just to one side of Ianto's shoulder.
"I should clean up," Ianto murmured. "Almost time to leave."
Jack rubbed his thumb along Ianto's bottom lip. Because he could.
"So clever, so pretty, so shy," he said with a mock sigh, and pushed away from the car. He didn't look to see if Ianto was following him; he was probably still leaning on the door in shock. Which was just how Jack liked to leave people: bewildered and aroused.
Well, if Ianto had needed a prop to his ego he had it, and if he wanted to take up with Jack he knew the door was open. It would do him good to have a little human contact. It would do him a whole world's worth of good to get laid with someone who still had all the working parts.
Jack grinned as he climbed the stairs to his office. A few minutes later, Ianto slunk through the Hub like a guilty man, collected his things, and bolted.
Confusion was usually the first step on the road to regaining one's sanity. And Jack could well afford to spend time confusing Ianto just as much as he needed it, for as long as he needed it.
END
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