jooles34: (IantoOwen)
[personal profile] jooles34
Title Mutually Beneficial
Word Count 3113
Pairing/characters Owen/Ianto, Jack (Hints of Jack/Ianto)
Rating 18
Summary Owen and Ianto have ways of looking after each other, and Owen needs some support right now.
Warnings Sex and swearing. Well, it is Owen.
Setting/Time ‘Missing scenes’ at the end of Combat.
Beta [ profile] emyrldlady
Disclaimer I do not own Torchwood or any of the characters.
A/N Written for [ profile] the_silver_sun as a pitch hit in [info]torchwood_fest[Bad username or site: torchwood_fest?'s @] 's Christmas fest, but only just getting around to posting.

A few hours after Jack’s less than pleasant visit, Owen was stuffing the last of his things into a small ruck-sack that sat on the hospital bed, when he became aware of a presence behind him. He turned around and saw Ianto standing silently in the doorway to his private room. He turned his back on him again.

"What are you doing here?" he asked without looking.

"I've come to take you home."

"I'll get a cab."

"No, you won't. I’m here to take you home," Ianto repeated calmly.

Owen snorted. "What? Worried I’m going to attempt death by weevil again?"


Owen caught the tone in Ianto's voice. It spoke of a now long-held understanding between the two men. Owen wanted to fight it, but it only took a second for him to realise that he neither had the energy nor the inclination to fight what they both new he needed. His shoulders slumped, he closed his eyes and his head dropped for a moment.

"Fine," he finally managed.

He tugged viciously at the bag’s zip, closing it, before slinging it onto his shoulder and turning around. Refusing to meet Ianto's eye, Owen indicated for Ianto to leave, then followed him out of the room.

The car ride back to Owen’s flat was silent save for Ianto softly singing along to the radio. Now wasn't the time for talking but Owen was annoyed by Ianto's calm and confident mood. But then, this was how it went. It seemed in their friendship they were destined to be at odds with each other. When one was at the end of their universe, there other was there, strong and secure, to step in and pick up the pieces.

They arrived back at the flat and Owen let them both in. He threw his bag on the floor and headed for the sofa. However, Ianto kept walking through the flat.

“Don’t even think it,” he called over his shoulder.

Owen huffed and pulled a face, but he turned around and followed Ianto through to the bathroom. Ianto closed the bathroom door behind him and Owen saw Ianto’s suit jacket already hanging on the back of it. Ianto reached for his tie, but Owen brought his hands up to stop him, a silent pleading in his eyes. The Welshman’s hands dropped and Owen tugged at the knot himself. He focused on the material, studiously not looking at Ianto’s face, pulling the silk through the other man’s collar. Knowing better than to throw it on the floor, he turned and hung it on the door with the jacket.

Then Owen turned back and tugged Ianto’s shirt out of his trousers before methodically working his way through all the buttons. He pushed the shirt off Ianto’s shoulders and turned to lay it over the closed toilet seat. He turned back to find Ianto toeing off his shoes and undoing the belt on his trousers. Owen let Ianto finish undressing himself and instead pulled his jumper and T-shirt off over his head in one movement, wincing as he moved. He tossed them to the floor and kicked off his trainers as Ianto lay his trousers over his shirt on the toilet. Owen concentrated on removing the rest of his clothes instead of watching Ianto remove his underwear and socks.

Once he was naked, Owen stood still and let Ianto gently remove the dressings from his body and tried not to shiver as the Welshman’s fingers ghosted over the damaged flesh. Then he stepped unbidden into the shower and turned the water on hot. He stood under the spray with his back to Ianto, but was prepared to feel him come and stand close behind him and close the shower cubical door.

Owen let the water course over his body, matting his hair to his head. He’d showered since the fight of course, but the hospital showers were paltry trickles, nothing like this. Ianto’s hand reached around him, plucking a bottle from the shelf and then he heard the snap of a cap behind him. A few seconds later the bottle was replaced, then two hands were on his head. Shampoo was gently but firmly worked into his hair. Owen had to bite back a groan as fingers massaged his scalp. After a while he let his head be tipped back and the shampoo was rinsed away. Owen watched the last of the foam trickle down his body.

Ianto’s arm reached past him again, this time picking up shower gel. Again Owen didn’t resist as Ianto’s hands worked the gel into his skin. Ianto started at his shoulders, gently kneading out knots in his muscles as he went, but skirting over the worst bruises, abrasions and lacerations, stopping only to replenish the gel in his hands. As Ianto reached his hips Owen tipped himself forwards slightly and rested his hands on the cool tiled wall in front of him. Ianto’s hands continued to work his muscles down his thighs and calves.

Owen felt Ianto straighten behind him, then reach for and replace the shower gel for what he knew would be the last time. A moment later a slicked finger rubbed at his arsehole, circling it before seeking entrance. The finger rotated inside him before a second finger pushed in to join it. Owen took a deep breath, willing himself to relax, while he tried not to think about shitting bubbles for the next week.

The fingers worked him with the same gentle firmness that had been applied to the rest of his body and Owen breathed through it. He could hear the slick sounds of Ianto working himself to full hardness behind him and assumed that more shower gel was being used there. Then he felt Ianto shift behind him, pressing up closer against his body. Ianto’s fingers pulled back and Owen closed his eyes, hanging his head as he waited for Ianto to breach him.

He didn’t have to wait long and then Ianto was pushing in. The pressure was unrelenting until his arse had accepted the head of Ianto’s cock, but then Owen’s body rocked gently as Ianto worked his way in, pulling out and pushing back in a little further in each time, until he was in up the hilt.

One of Ianto’s arms snaked under his and crossed his chest, reaching towards his opposite shoulder, while the other wrapped around his stomach. Owen’s hands were still braced against the wall, but he knew that Ianto had him secure and fully supported. In every way.

As Ianto moved inside him, Owen was desperate to touch himself, but restrained himself. He knew Ianto would take care of him, trusted Ianto to take care of him. Water continued to cascade over them as Ianto held Owen closer, tighter and, as he felt Ianto’s cock sliding in and out of his arse, gliding over his prostate, Owen lost himself in the sensations flooding his body. For now he doesn’t need to think, doesn’t need to feel. This is what he and Ianto do; offer each other a place to hide where no one else can touch them. Not even Jack. Even Jack doesn’t try to intrude on what goes on between them; just accepts it with a quiet acknowledgement that life isn’t straight forward or binary, and that they all have capacity for more than just one.

Owen’s body was alive with sensation; Ianto driving him closer and closer to the edge, without having yet touched his cock. There’s a certain release in handing himself over to the other man, letting him take control of his pleasure. Owen just braced himself against the wall as Ianto used his body. Then Ianto’s movements started to speed up and his breath was coming in pants. Owen knew Ianto was close and just as he thinks it, Ianto’s hand drops from his stomach and takes hold of his cock and squeezes.

A cry escaped Owen’s mouth; a desperate and needy sound, pulled from somewhere inside him. From just that one touch Owen came, his body moving helplessly against Ianto’s. He was dimly aware of Ianto’s arm tightening across his chest and a moan in his ear.

And then stillness hit them both. They were both breathing heavily and Owen was aware that Ianto was supporting most of his weight, but for a moment neither of them moved Then one of Ianto’s arms unwrapped itself from around his middle and the water stopped. Ianto pulled Owen upright and guided him out of the shower, pulling a towel from the rail and handing it to him. Owen finally took his own weight again and silently dried himself while Ianto fetched another towel.

“So, you staying or what?” Owen finally asked when Ianto’s head was obscured by towel as he rubbed at his hair.

“Got any other way of getting into work tomorrow? Your car’s there remember and you hate buses.”

“I can walk.”

“Ha!” Ianto’s head reappeared from under the towel, an amused, disbelieving look on his face. It dragged a smile from Owen.

“Alright, I’m not walking.” Owen threw his towel into a corner of the bathroom. “Fine. But don’t steal the duvet.” Owen left the bathroom and headed for the bedroom.

“Is that a ‘no’ for spooning then?” Ianto called after him.

“Fuck off,” Owen shouted back. But there was no bite to it and Ianto allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.


They had slept for an hour, but Owen had still been restless. Ianto had suggested dinner and watched Owen gradually get more and more tense as they had eaten. He knew it was fruitless to ask if Owen wanted to talk about it. Owen would talk, eventually, but they had a long way to go before then. So, instead, Ianto turned his back to Owen and allowed himself to be pinned down, owned, controlled and used. And then he watched as Owen sank into a deep, seemingly dreamless sleep.


Owen stormed up from the vaults and bolted through the cog door without a word to anyone. It was the end of the day and not long before, Ianto had gone down with Owen to the vaults, knowing that Owen needed to face the weevils again as soon as he could. Owen had bitched about this taking ‘getting back on the horse’ a bit too far. Ianto had ignored his grouching, but as he opened the door he had let his concern show. Owen simply asked to be left alone, so Ianto had retreated and shut the door, heading back upstairs.

But seeing Owen’s reaction now, he wished he had stayed. Jack arched an eyebrow at Ianto and he shrugged in response. Jack gave him a nod of approval and Ianto followed in Owen’s footsteps.

Ianto didn’t bother trying to catch up with Owen, but instead headed straight for the other man’s flat. Owen may be wanting a drink, but he wasn’t stupid enough at the moment to think that he could do it in public. Owen was an idiot in many ways, but he knew he was volatile at the moment and wouldn’t risk other people any more than he had to.

Reaching Owen’s flat, Ianto let himself in with the key he had on his keychain. They had swapped keys months ago when they had first started looking out for each other, but this was the first time that he had used it without permission. He closed the door behind him and headed for the kitchen. He plucked a beer out of the fridge and opened it on the counter in a manoeuvre that he knew would annoy Owen had he been there. Then he headed back to the lounge and settled himself on the sofa.

As expected he didn’t have to wait long until the front door opened again and Owen stepped through, a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Knitting.” Ianto nodded towards the bottle. “Do you want to get glasses for that or are we sharing straight from the bottle?”

“Who says I want to share?” Owen barked back, still not getting any closer.

Ianto drained his beer.

“Even you prefer not to drink alone.”

“Yeah, but I prefer my guests to bring their own. But as you’re here, you can drink to my coronation with me.”

Ianto gave him a quizzical look, but Owen just unscrewed the cap on the bottle and raised the bottle in the air.

“To me; King of the Weevils.” Owen’s voice dripped with bitterness.

Ianto kept quiet and Owen flopped down next to Ianto, taking another swig from the bottle before handing it over.

“The fucking weevils are in my head Ianto. The other night in that cage, I looked into that weevil’s eyes and I knew what it was thinking. It was thinking the same as me. It was desperate to escape. On a baser, more primal level, but all the same it wanted death rather than a cage. And that’s all I wanted right then.”

“Maybe you were just projecting what you were feeling.”

They continued to pass the bottle between them.

“No. No, I could feel it in it. That’s why I wanted to be alone with them today, to see if I could feel it again. They expected me to be scared when I went in, but I stood my ground and growled at them - actually growled at them - and they cowered. And again I could feel their fear.” Owen snorted with humourless laugher and took a longer pull at the bottle. “I have fucking weevils in my head.”

“You’ve been saying for a while that you thought they had low level empathy or telepathy.”

“Yeah, with each other; not me.” He swigged from the bottle again.

“You always did get all the luck. Is it that you can feel what weevils are feeling, or that it only started in the cage that really bothers you?”

Owen simply drank more bourbon instead of answering. Ianto was just relieved that he wasn’t shouting.

“Do you think it works both ways? Will Janet be able to tell what you’re feeling too? In that case maybe you can work out your issues with her instead.” Ianto grinned wickedly and snatched the bottle back from Owen and received a nasty look in return. “Look, Owen, you are a bastard and a brilliant doctor with a shitty bedside manner; you know that don’t you?”

“Oh, we’ve moved on from the part where you try and make me feel better then?”

“Are you, or are you not, a bastard?”

“Yes, alright, I’m a bastard. Is this going somewhere?”

“Why don’t you like being around patients?”

“They’re fucking miserable and they moan all the time.”

“And why don’t you like that?”

“Because it’s annoying.”

“Why, Owen?”

“Fuck off.”

“You don’t like seeing people scared and in pain Owen, there’s nothing wrong with that. And like it or not it makes you a better doctor. How can that be a bad thing?”

“And now I have to have that with weevils too?”


Owen stared at Ianto and the bluntness of his answer. “You’re no fucking help, you know that don’t you?”

Ianto took another swig from the bottle of Jack.

“Well, I’ve drunk too much to drive now, so there’s other ways I can help.” He raised an eyebrow at Owen.

Owen sighed. "Do you know what's really fucked up?"

"Enlighten me."

"Given that we use each other when the shit hits the fan, that must mean you fuck Harkness because you actually want to."

"Is that so hard to imagine?"

Owen shrugged. "’spose not." He paused. "Then why do we still do this?"

"In the mood you came home in would you rather be fucked by someone you love or someone you can barely stand to be around under normal circumstances?"

Owen shrugged in response, then a grin crossed is face. "Wait, does that mean you and Harkness..."

Owen was cut off as a hand clamped down over his mouth and a deceptively strong Welsh body rolled onto his. "Shut up" Ianto growled, and the hand was replaced by an urgent, seeking mouth and all Owen’s thoughts were soon chased away again by clever fingers undoing him quickly and efficiently until he was bucking and writhing, coming loud and hard under the onslaught of Ianto’s body. And that was just the start of the night.

Jack stepped out of his office as he heard the cog door open. Owen walked through, threw him a barely-there look, grunted in
greeting and headed for the med bay. Jack was satisfied. For better or worse this was business as usual. Ianto followed him through the door and paused inside the gate.

"Morning Jack. Everything okay here last night?"

Jack didn't attempt to close the gap between them at all, but leant on the railing, looking away towards the door to the vaults.

"Yeah, but weird thing. I was downstairs last night when I noticed Janet beginning to act strangely. She was sort of writhing on the floor of her cell making this low moaning sound. I was worried at first thinking she was in pain but I think she was actually enjoying it. It lasted an hour or so and then she just went quiet and seemed pretty relaxed. I kept an eye on her and the same thing happened this morning but not for as long..."

Jack was cut off by a strangled noise behind him. He turned to see Ianto almost crying with the effort of restrained laughter and Owen standing, mouth open in horrified shock.

"Owen," Ianto said, finally breaking, "I think you gave Janet her first orgasm."

And then Ianto was running through the Hub, laughter unrestrained, and ducking the volley of instruments Owen was hurling at him alongside a creative torrent of abuse.

Jack watched with a confused expression on his face, calling after them.

"Did I miss something? Hey!? Hey!"

They clattered around the walkways until they were in front of him again and suddenly Owen stopped running, and his voice held a victorious note.

“Wait a minute. I wasn’t on the giving end of any orgasms last night, stud.” He winked and pointed the instrument in his hand at Ianto.

Jack, still confused, watched as Ianto’s face visibly paled and he dashed off again, slightly green around the gills. Owen walked back to his med bay, a smug grin on his face.

“Fine. Tell me in your own time then. See if I care,” Jack muttered, retreating to his office and really caring quite a lot.
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March 2012


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