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[personal profile] cyus
Title: Indelible
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1500 words
Summary: Jack gives out affections like candy, the chewy, sticky, melty kind.
Notes: Beta'd by [livejournal.com profile] amand_r and [livejournal.com profile] paragraphs. Also, it's really for [livejournal.com profile] amand_r and she is partly responsible for it, and so, yknow, ♥

Jack is rubbish at the slow quiet approach. It's the snuffle that gives him away that one moment before his fingers slide around Ianto's side and Ianto can steel himself and look suitably put out and then still be unable to resist just leaning into Jack.

"You always close your eyes," Jack mutters when Ianto has, indeed, his eyes closed, lips half open.

Ianto squints at Jack. "You bast-" he starts with a grin and then Jack kisses him, angling them both around as his hand slides up Ianto's chest, shifting across planes of hard muscle and ... padding.

"Sneak attack," Jack whispers when he pulls away, grinning broadly.

Ianto doesn't mention the snuffle. Everyone needs secrets, and he can't stop grinning now, so it's just as well.

What they have, it's not an office affair exactly because Jack stays in Ianto's flat one night every two or three weeks for a few hours at least and otherwise takes great joy in surprising him in Starbucks or Tesco's or when he's feeding birds on the boardwalk in broad daylight.

Jack delights in surprises and public displays of affection, they're candy.

Ianto delights in Jack and thinks he's taking the affection with good grace and no little amount of enjoyment. He'd delight in everything more if the public displays weren't as public or possibly as displayed but he notches it up to something alien and funny in Jack.

Another morning has them out in Cathays.

"He's dead," Ianto pronounces at the scene of the crime and elbows Jack in the side when Jack rests his bony chin on Ianto's shoulder and turns his face, brushing his lips along Ianto's cheek just so.

He hadn't noticed the snuffle, too busy actually working. Jack's grin goes to Ianto, then to the CCTV camera on the side of the house.

Jack bounces on the balls of his feet, giddy, and grins broadly at Ianto before he steps forward and takes charge of their alien crime scene.

Two days later Jack pulls him close by the lapels of his waistcoat and Ianto can't even find it in himself to resist much, even if it's the middle of the Plass and a group of girls starts giggling halfway through their hug and dance and close body contact. When Ianto pushes at Jack's hip to create some space between them, the back of his hand brushes Jack's crotch and he can feel Jack's chuckle through the kiss. It runs down his spine and tingles in the small of his back, settling there warm and cozy.

"You're so sexy," Jack says against Ianto's lips, hand strong on Ianto's nape.

A high pitched giggle cuts through the moment.

"I hate you," Ianto replies.

"Come and get me." And Jack laughs and winks at him as he pulls away and walks off backwards, funny little skip in his step.

He leaves Ianto in the middle of the Plass with the schoolgirls whooping and his body all aflutter like he's Juliet in that Shakespeare play, and even as Jack taunts him with that laugh from a few metres away Ianto resists following him and instead stands his ground, pooled warmth of arousal in his body and all.

In public.

The things he does for that man.

He follows Jack back to the Hub at his own pace.

At work Jack is all hands-off, all calm analysis of facts and figures and boardroom meetings and allocation of resources, except when he pulls Ianto close by his tie, when Owen is in the medbay and Gwen is talking to Rhys and Tosh is off to the loo and he just looks at him, fingers wrapped around the fabric, and doesn't do anything. A few centimetres from lips on lips and Jack just looks at him funny cross-eyed. Ianto closes his eyes and opens them again because he feels dumb, and eventually he leans forward, huff of frustration as he smashes his lips to Jack's, nevermind Jack will pull up the surveillance in his office later.

Ianto is cleaning up the last of the cups and random napkins only to pass the time until Jack's mind settles on him. Not every night or even every week, only once in a while when everything is dark and everyone is home, Ianto hangs back in hope of a few kisses or, well, sex, because Jack gets inspired when watching his random little ambushes of snuck affections. Ianto has lost his shoes somewhere in the boardroom after the last meeting, his shirt has come untucked from his trousers.

He pokes his head into Jack's office for a hello, maybe for a 'let's make out because I know you've been watching me and you all night on your monitor' without saying 'let's make out because...'

His satisfaction about his plan working when Jack turns his head from the computer and raises his eyebrows just so lasts approximately two seconds. Then it's swiftly chased by mortification when Jack pushes his desk chair back to make room for Ianto.

Yet Ianto can't resist stepping closer, socked feet cold on the stones.

"I hate you," Ianto says, but Jack only chuckles to himself. He pats his lap and Ianto flips him off and only leans against the desk. He has to turn his head to see the screen.

"I love you," Jack replies, because he gives that out like candy, too. The sticky, melting kind, and Ianto pulls a face.

"That's two weeks ago, at the corner of Queen's street. You didn't even notice me," Jack says and leans back in his chair, watching the stolen little moment.

"I noticed."

"Didn't."

"Did, too." Ianto leans forward. "There, look at my eyebrows. They say, 'I know you're there and I hate you.'"

Jack smiles and pauses the tape on that moment. "You don't."

Ianto looks down at his feet and rubs his toes of one along the arch of his other foot. "No, I don't," he says eventually long after Jack has turned back to his entertainment.

Ianto calls it the porn library, but Jack has pretty strange taste in porn if that's what does it for him.

"Wait, wait, here's the one on the Plass when all those schoolkids were watching and your hand-"

"Don't." Ianto brings a hand to his face, feeling it heat, knowing he must be pale Welsh going on tomato.

"I think you enjoyed that one. Look at your eyebrows doing the twinkle dance."

"What?"

"You scrunch them up when you get off on something. Did you get a boner on the-"

"Jack!"

"You did, didn't you? You were actually hard. On the Plass. In the middle of Cardiff. In the middle of the day. In-"

Ianto pushes off the desk and flees to Jack's bunkhole, scrambles down the rungs of the ladder and nearly lands face first on the ground before he catches himself, then dives under the blanket on Jack's bed and pulls it over his head.

"Your hand is twitching to go for your dick," Jack shouts from his desk and Ianto so isn't listening. "Honest!"

Ianto pulls the blanket tighter over himself, nevermind is feet are sticking out at the bottom.

"I don't think anyone else noticed," Jack says, voice that much closer.

"I'm not listening," Ianto says just so Jack can hear it too and it doesn't only exist in his head.

"...okay." Shuffling and ruffling, clothes, steps on ladder. Jack jumps down the last few rungs, landing with a thud. "You're being silly now," Jack says from much much closer, but Ianto doesn't acknowledge that with a reply.

Never.

"I didn't get hard," he says instead.

"Did."

"Didn't."

"Did too."

Ianto growls into the pillow before he catches himself and Jack laughs. Idiot.

"You'll suffocate under there," Jack says a few minutes later, and Ianto has the impression he's doing a study on something pseudo scientific just by watching him. "I'll draw smiley faces on your feet if you don't come out."

"You wouldn't." Ianto feels his toes curl just before he hears Jack's chuckle.

Usually making out involves more making out and lips and hours in Jack's office just being with each other in private. He curls tighter into the blanket.

Jack scratches the edge of something sharp against the bit of calf where Ianto's trousers have ridden up, then pulls the sock off Ianto's foot and catches him by the ankle before Ianto can draw the foot under the blanket for protection.

"Hate you," Ianto mutters as Jack is decorating his feet with a Sharpie, because Jack is nutty in that alien funny way where to him everything makes a strange kind of sense when it makes sense to no one else in the world.

Jack takes delight in the strangest things, like it's sticky candy, and Ianto has to take delight in Jack because it's what he does.

They make out later, all lips and tongues and warmth and hours for themselves, and it's good and makes Ianto's lips tingle.

When Ianto gets up in the morning and Jack's side of the bed is already cold and there's rummaging in the Hub which is probably Jack at work, he expects a bunch of cocks and balls and rude words on his feet, but when he lifts them to look at them in the mirror, admiring the art of a silly prank, there's a heart on each sole in thick Sharpie lines.

Ianto traces the lines with his finger, and it tickles, in that slightly alien way that is very much Jack and maybe now a little Jack and Ianto as well.

Date: 2010-08-05 03:17 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] wanda1969.livejournal.com
I adored the whole story, but this line made it for me..."Ianto calls it the porn library, but Jack has pretty strange taste in porn if that's what does it for him." There's something so sweet about the snippets of life Jack is keeping. And it's somehow more intimate than anything more hardcore.

Date: 2010-08-12 09:56 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] cyus.livejournal.com
It's one of the elements that keeps appearing in various fanfics of mine, mementos Jack keeps, be it a treasure box of paperman cut outs from diaries of lovers or little notes or only memories to cling to, I like playing with his alien-ness like that without making it too In Your Face, so I'm glad you enjoyed that.

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