Fandom/Pairing: Torchwood; Jack/Ianto
Warnings/Spoilers: no spoilers, slight mention of sex, nothing too graphic
Genre: established relationship, fluff, schmoop~ (I hope so, anyway!)
Word Count: ~2,360
Summary: Ianto presses forward and kisses Jack, and the world starts up again, thaws out and swirls around him, raindrops falling all over the place, orange lights behind his eyes when he squeezes them shut, and it's like he's falling, again and again and again.
Notes: Written for the schmoop_bingo prompt caught in the rain. Basically, Ianto gets caught in a thunderstorm while taking care of a rogue weevil, and then Jack makes it worth his while. ;)
(Crossposted to jackxianto and torch_wood)
Huge drops of water pelt Ianto’s face as he looks up into the grey, rain-filled sky.
The rain has soaked through what had been a neatly pressed shirt and jacket, his tie hanging like a limp fish around his neck, heavy and dripping and completely wrung out in a way that’s really pretty appalling, especially for something that had been a gift from Jack, and an expensive one at that.
Ianto smiles a little.
It’s been a terrible day.
A terrible week, really. Off-the-charts rift activity, weevils popping up in all kinds of absurd places, and of course the team has been running around picking up the pieces with barely a moment to spare for anything else. Gwen has been having it out with Rhys, probably because she hasn’t been home in days, Owen’s been cheery as usual, and even Tosh had been a little less-than-amiable this morning.
Ianto more than understands. He's felt dead on his feet for days, and hasn’t had more than five minutes alone with Jack for much longer than that. And then of course there’s this bloody rain that just won’t stop.
But still, Ianto finds himself looking up into the wet, darkening sky and smiling.
Because despite everything, despite the rain and the cold and the fact that this would’ve gone twice as fast if he wasn’t out here alone, despite all of that there’s this feeling of utter, ridiculous excitement that bubbles up inside of him sometimes.
Because he’s just so bloody lucky, and he knows it.
To be here, to be alive, to have found this place, these people, Jack.
So many things have slotted into place for him since Canary Wharf, and Torchwood I, and Lisa, and the funny thing about it is, he knows you wouldn't see it from the surface. He knows that on the surface his job seems, well… dirty, wet, cold and kind of crap, really.
He’s volunteered for this though, all of it.
He knows that he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.
Out in the pouring rain on his own, in the middle of an abandoned car park, hunting a rogue weevil that some off-duty attendant next door had called in—no doubt about it, this is what Ianto Jones signed up for.
Today’s job hasn’t been so bad either.
Jack had been going on about team-building earlier, about how everyone’d been worn down lately, and about how he hadn't spent time with the others in ages and, well, Ianto had volunteered. Kindness of his heart and all that.
After all, one weevil isn't exactly a problem for him anymore, not with all the experience he's had hunting with Jack.
He'd had the weevil located and subdued within twenty minutes, had lugged it back to the SUV without any interruptions, checked the site thoroughly just to make be sure there wasn’t anything else hanging around that he should know about, and now, an hour and a half later, he’s standing here looking out at the clouds, ready to head back to the hub, problem solved. Sure he’s soaked to the bone, but who isn’t, on a day like today.
The sky has become particularly menacing over the last hour or so though—the clouds are gathering, the thunder rolling in. He figures he should be getting back. He shoves his hands into his pockets, and takes another look up as he heads back to the SUV.
He thinks of the stars, of Jack and his doctor, doing whatever it is they do up there, moving around between all those stars and planets and galaxies.
He should be jealous, but he’s not, not right now. Right now he’s just kind of in awe of all of it. Of his place in the world, and of Jack for giving it to him.
Of Jack for allowing him to find it.
And honestly, it’s really pretty amazing to be so sure of something, even when he’s stuck running the worst kind of errands in the pouring rain without an umbrella, his face soaked and his hair plastered to the back of his head, realizing that he’s probably ruined a perfectly good suit again, not to mention Jack’s tie.
He's surprised to find the hub fully occupied when he gets back.
Things seem to have quieted down a bit since he left though--there's a welcome air of calm around the place that's been absent over the past few days.
Tosh is at her desk, her face glowing as Owen leans back in his chair looking unimpressed by one of her probably-very-astute observations. Gwen’s watching both of them absently, her phone in her hand, waiting on a call from Rhys, maybe. Jack is upstairs—on the phone—but after a second he glances down at Ianto and gives him a quick, welcoming wave. His bright smile sends a small shiver down Ianto’s spine.
It doesn't take him long to get the business with the weevil sorted, and within fifteen minutes he finds himself standing in Jack's office, his shoes squelching with every step, pants dripping all over the floor, a puddle forming around his shoes.
Ianto stands back from Jack’s desk out of respect for his papers, and because he knows he’ll be the one to deal with it anyway, if something gets ruined.
“Ianto.” Jack eyes him with amusement. "Welcome back. Any problems? Other than forgetting your umbrella?”
Ianto just smiles. “Not a one, sir. Our friend is in his cell, sedated, and the site is clean. I wasn’t spotted, so nothing to do on that end. I’ll finish up the report after I check on him tomorrow.”
“Good work,” Jack says with a curious smile.
Ianto tilts his head at Jack, returning his curious look. “I thought you’d be round the pub with everyone by now?”
Jack shakes his head. “Gwen’s got plans for dinner with Rhys, finally, and Tosh is dead set on finishing up that translation program she’s been working on at home, so it looks like my team-building will have to wait.”
Ianto allows his smile to soften a little. “I see.”
“So is there a reason why you haven’t changed clothes yet?”
The corners of Ianto’s mouth twist up a little mischievously.
"Come with me," he says, and it’s not really a question. His hand is already reaching for Jack’s coat on the rack behind him.
They're up on the roof across the street a few minutes later.
Jack looks utterly intrigued--the look on his face makes Ianto feel like he can do anything, like he could fly off the building into the rain, do a few sweeping circles around the Millennium Centre if he wanted to.
"How did you know how to get up here?” Jack asks, sounding impressed. “And why are you in such a good mood?"
"I've followed you, of course." Ianto winks. He runs wet fingers through wet hair, and waits for Jack to say something, do something.
A moment passes. The rain’s still coming down hard; they'll both be soaked soon at this rate.
And then suddenly Jack is close--too close, if there was such a thing for them, but thankfully there isn't, not anymore. Ianto can feel the warmth radiating from Jack’s broad shoulders, and when Jack takes another step towards him, Ianto can feel Jack’s hips jut up against his. He feels a surge of desire rise up from somewhere deep in his stomach. The wet fabric of his boxers stretches tight against his skin. It’s enough to make his knees turn to jelly, really, but suddenly it occurs to him that he wants to enjoy this slowly so he takes a deep breath and focuses on Jack’s hands, on Jack's breath against his cheek, on the rain.
"You're soaking wet," Jack says softly, his thumbs brushing over Ianto's cheeks, fingers running back through his hair, teasing little droplets of water down his back. "It's kind of nice," he whispers.
"Got caught in the rain," Ianto says, and it's like the world has stopped, like there's nothing else anywhere except Jack's fingers in his hair and the heat from their bodies and the rain soaking into their skin.
"I can see that," Jack says with a laugh. He presses a wet kiss to Ianto’s forehead, and then pulls back, staring into Ianto’s eyes.
He wants Jack so badly, but the slow burn of friction between their bodies and the rain soaking them from the outside in is new and kind of exciting--he’s enjoying the anticipation. It’s been raining for days, and he has to admit that it’s crossed his mind, what this would feel like—Jack’s warm hands against his cold, wet skin.
“You’re beautiful like this,” Jack says, and he's looking at Ianto like he can’t believe he exists, like he's the only person in the universe. It sends a shiver through Ianto that he can feel all the way down to his toes.
It's like time has stopped, too--the lights of the buildings around them, the concrete under their feet, the rain, the dull thunder off in the distance—everything seems frozen somehow, surreal. He should be cold, but he’s not. Jack is so warm, always so warm, especially like this, in these moments before they finally give in, like there’s a fire somewhere inside of each of them that’s burning deeper and deeper the closer they get.
Then Ianto presses forward and kisses Jack, and the world starts up again, thaws out and swirls around him, raindrops falling all over the place, orange lights behind his eyes when he squeezes them shut, and it's like he's falling, again and again and again.
He can feel the rain sliding down his face and he wonders, really, how he can be so happy like this.
The future should feel so grim, so dark, but it doesn’t, because any future with this in it just feels wonderful, like some kind of prize that the universe has offered him because he was in the right place at the right time, maybe.
The world could be coming to an end down in the hub tonight, or if not tonight, tomorrow, or the next day, or next year, but somehow all that matters is this. This thrill, this excitement, this feeling bubbling up from inside of him when Jack looks at him like this, when they're together.
Jack’s letting him lead the kiss, and Ianto takes his time, even though he wants more, wants everything all at once, really. He feels his way around Jack’s mouth carefully, around the tips of Jack’s perfect teeth like he hasn’t been here a million times before. He breathes Jack in—Jack, mixed with the heavy scent of the rain--and he wonders if in this moment, it would be possible for Jack to feel as alive as he does. Jack hums as if in agreement, and Ianto feels the vibration crawl down his spine, tingling with electricity.
"The stars," he whispers against Jack's lips, and then he sneaks a look up above them. "Someday you should take me there,” he says. “I'll even let you bring your doctor friend along, if you're good."
Jack laughs a little and then pulls away, strands of dark hair plastered back against his face. Jack doesn't say anything, just kisses him again, and then things stop making sense, and there's a lot of scrabbling, and the not-so-careful removal of clothes, and the strategic use of Jack's coat as a blanket, and even though the stars aren't even out tonight, even though Ianto can’t see a thing, with the lights and the clouds, it doesn’t matter.
They're behind his eyes as he squeezes them shut as Jack slides inside of him, and they're in Jack's eyes too, as he shouts Ianto's name into the darkness, and they both come, wrapped around each other, soaking wet, thunder rumbling off somewhere far away as they lie there grinning like two complete idiots.
They get a couple of strange looks back at the hub when they return. It turns out the floor of the roof wasn’t as clean as it looked in the dark, and they’re both a mess.
Thankfully everyone's on their way home anyway, so it's not long before Ianto is alone with Jack again, and not long at all before they're warm and clean and dry, packed into Jack's tiny bed next to each other, Ianto's head against Jack's chest.
There are a million things that Ianto could say, but he tucks the words away for another time. Because he knows Jack has been here before, because it's different with him, and because Jack knows most everything he’s thinking anyway.
He imagines that one day the words will come out though, on a night like this, maybe, just before he's about to drift off to sleep. They’ll force their way out, heavy, like rain, falling onto Jack's chest, falling at his feet.
"It’s beautiful up there, you know?” Jack says, and his voice is nostalgic, open. “The stars.”
“I can’t imagine,” Ianto says honestly.
Jack squeezes him tight against his chest, and Ianto focuses for a second on the dull thumping of Jack’s heart, remembering a time when he thought maybe Jack didn’t have a heart at all. He honestly can’t believe he was ever so far off the mark.
“Someday," Jack says. “We’ll go there. You and me. It’ll be like nothing you can even imagine.”
Ianto closes his eyes, and tries anyway--the universe at their feet, Torchwood and Cardiff and the weevils and the rift a distant memory, traveling through the stars with Jack, without a care in the world.
“I don’t know how I’ll pull it off,” Jack says with a small laugh. “But I promise, I’ll take you somewhere amazing.”
Ianto closes his eyes and breathes Jack in, feeling that impossibly lucky feeling again, like he can do anything, be anything. He presses his lips to Jack’s neck and then nuzzles in close, stubble brushing against his nose.
Jack’s arms tighten around his shoulders protectively as Ianto shrugs.
"I’m pretty sure you already have."