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Eight Times Captain Jack Harkness Showed Ianto Jones That He Loved Him
Title: Eight Times Captain Jack Harkness Showed Ianto Jones That He Loved Him
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack/Ianto. Mentions of Tosh, Gwen and Owen
Rating/Warnings: 15 – mainly for themes, some angst.
Word count: 2.365
Spoilers: This runs through seasons one and two and contains spoilers for both.
Summary: Actions speak louder than words, but is the right person listening?
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Torchwood.
AN: This was written for ![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
chocolatenianto who suggested "Eight times Jack showed Ianto how much he loved him." as part of my Eight Things series. I hope this is okay for you. You don’t need to read any of the others for this to make sense. More eight things suggestions always welcome. Thanks to emyrldlady for the use of her brain. Oh, and in case it’s a British thing, PDA = public displays of affection.
Ianto’s been back a work for week. He’s just leaving Jack’s office having delivered him the last coffee of the day. His hand is still on the door handle, pulling it closed behind him when he hears Gwen on the phone.
“I’m just leaving so I’ll be home in about half an hour. Okay Rhys; I love you.”
If there had been anything left inside Ianto to break it would have broken then. He can’t imagine ever saying that to anyone again and he can’t believe he’ll ever find anyone to say it to him again.
As he pulls the door shut his mind is once again dreading heading home for another evening alone, pushing another tasteless microwave meal for one around a plate.
“Ianto!” Jack’s voice rings out and Ianto pushes the door back open, poking his head back in.
“Yes Sir?”
“I’ve got a stack of reports that need going through. It’s going to be long and tedious, but there’s a takeaway of your choice in it for you if you stay behind and give me a hand.”
Ianto has to fight to keep the look of relief off his face.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They’re sitting around the board room eating the dinner Ianto has just picked up from the tourist office. Ianto has excused himself to get drinks for everyone. By the time he comes back he can hear raucous laughter coming from the room. He allows himself a small smile. He’s happier than he thought he would be that the team can still sit all together and have fun. More so that he is included with them again. He laughs like he used to and it feels good.
He hands out the drinks and takes his seat at the table as Gwen finishes a story about a family party to more guffawing from the assembled team. Next to speak is Tosh. She “umms” for a second, then starts with “Oh, yeah, I’ve got one. Okay. Most embarrassing childhood story…”
Tosh’s words drown in Ianto’s mind under a sudden rush of white noise. They are playing one of their games, and this one...this one… He can almost feel the colour draining from his face and he manages to turn off the white noise for long enough to start to work his way through the panic; try to think of a way out of answering when the inevitable happens and it’s his turn. Or a lie. A good lie. He needs a good lie. Come on Ianto, think, think. Lying used to be second nature. Think of something.
He can hear everyone laughing again as Tosh finishes her story and eyes turn expectantly to him. Ianto looks quickly around the table and his eyes meet Jack’s. He can’t help the glint of desperation in his eyes as Jack looks into him.
Jack claps his hands suddenly. “Alright people, as much fun as this is we still need to work out where all this tech is coming from. Keep eating, but I want to hear ideas.”
Ianto lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and disguises it with a cough around his special fried rice. He flashes Jack a look of gratitude and receives an almost imperceptible nod in return.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Ianto! Come here. I’ve got something to show you.” Jack’s voice fills the otherwise empty Hub.
Ianto rolls his eyes god naturedly. “That is a dreadful line Jack. Surely you can do better than that.”
“I wasn’t talking about that.” A grin crosses Jack’s face. “Well, maybe later. But right now come with me.”
Curious, Ianto follows Jack down to the underground car park until the older man stops in front of a sleek looking black Audi. Jack turns and tosses a set of car keys to Ianto.
“It’s all yours.”
“What? But Jack…”
Jack cuts his protest off. “Before you say anything, it’s not a present. Torchwood damaged your car…”
“Damaged? It’s the size of a Matchbox car.”
“Yeah, anyway, that was Torchwood’s fault, so Torchwood gets you a new car. Do you like it?”
“It’s great.” Ianto lets his eyes roam over the curves of the car.
“Wait till you see the modifications I had added.”
Ianto raises an eyebrow. Jack grins.
“You have some extra buttons to press and the seats recline a little further than standard.”
Ianto pulls open the driver’s door. “Best take it out for a spin then. Test some of those extra features of yours.”
The sound of his laugher is drowned out by the squeal of tyres as he peels out of the car park.
It takes Ianto some months to realise that he has never seen an invoice come in to the Torchwood accounts.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ianto sits on the train gazing at the rain out of the window as it whisks him towards London. Just twelve hours ago he’d been pacing the Hub desperate to leave and dreading having to come in the next day. Then suddenly Jack tells him that the Rift is predicted to be quiet, and as he hasn’t had a day off in weeks that he’s not to come in tomorrow. Ianto breathes a sigh of relief at the coincidence and leaves with a nod.
So now he sits on the train heading towards the grave to mark the first anniversary. Not the one everyone else observed; not the one the recognised as the anniversary of the “bombings” at Canary Wharf. But the real one. The one that only he and four other people know.
Lisa has a small plaque in the graveyard, alongside those of the other victims whose bodies were never found, and Ianto now has the chance to visit her on this real day. And he thinks he may have gone mad if he’d had to have been in the Hub where the ghosts still lurk.
He’s half way to London before he realises that with Jack there is no such thing as a coincidence.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ianto folds the news paper neatly, places it on the table next to his half drunk coffee and excuses himself from the boardroom. The others continue to eat their breakfast and groaning at Owen’s tales of the night before.
He spends the day in the archives. There’s a batch of cataloguing he’s been meaning to catch up with and this seems like a good day to do it. It’s steady, methodical work, all processes and order. He doesn’t notice as the hours pass him by. He’s suddenly aware of a shift in the atmosphere of the room and turning around Jack is standing by the door. He has the newspaper in one hand and a sheet of printer paper in the other.
He reads from the newspaper. “Professor Franklyn Dixon, academic and archivist, passed away peacefully in his home last night aged 98. He was a well known and loved academic and archivist at Cambridge University as well as being a consultant for the British Library. He was renowned for taking promising talent under his wing and nurturing and advancing these students. Many a famous name in academia has come from his tutelage.” Jack looks up at Ianto. “The Times gives him a glowing obituary, but it doesn’t mention everything does it?”
Not getting a reply, he continues from the sheet of printer paper. “Torchwood One employee records for Professor Franklyn Dixon; chief archivist: retired; retained as…”
“Stop reading. Please.”
“Why didn’t you say anything Ianto?”
“It’s stupid. I haven’t spoken to him since…I left London. How did you know?”
“You left your coffee Ianto. And left the paper open at the obits age. It wasn’t hard to work out the rest. I always figured that there must have been someone who guided you to become you.”
Ianto looks up at Jack, his eyes brimming with the tears he has been fighting all day.
“I’d be nothing without him Jack. He saw me; out of everyone there he saw me and I don’t know why. I was nothing, a silly young boy in a big city with a new job, but I owe him everything. He gave me so much and after the battle I couldn’t bring myself to…” Ianto falters and Jack rushes to his side, pulling him close to him.
Jack wraps himself around Ianto and holds him tight as he sobs.
“He would have understood Ianto. He would. And he was right to notice you. So, so right to notice you. And I for one owe him a debt of gratitude.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ianto is sulking. He’s hiding it well and he is very annoyed at himself for doing it, but there is no doubt that he is sulking.
Today is his birthday. He had been dreading that Jack would do something all showy and…well…Jack. Ianto hates PDAs, even around the team, but Jack has limited perceptions of boundaries.
However, he’s had nothing. He had a lovely card from Tosh and a “modified” iTunes gift card which would apparently never run out. Gwen and Rhys gave him a funny card and a gift certificate for dance lessons. It’s a joke gift. At least he hopes it’s a joke gift. Even Owen threw a lewd card at him with his scrawl inside “Happy birthday mate. I’ll take you out for a night on the town. I’m dead, you’re a lightweight, it’ll be cheap.” But Jack? Nothing. And Ianto is inexplicably disappointed by this. And so he is sulking. And being annoyed with himself.
Jack strides into the Hub.
“Alright people, let’s call it a day. Go home, go do whatever it is you do. Oh, Ianto, there’s a delivery in the tourist office that needs sorting out before you go please.”
Jack turns and walks back to his office. Muttering darkly to himself Ianto heads to the tourist office.
He’s stopped short when he sees the “delivery”. A suit bag from his favourite London tailor is lying on the counter. It’s his favourite, but also one of the most expensive. He knows without looking at the note, who it is from, but he reads anyway. “Put this on and come to my office. Happy birthday Ianto.”
Ianto grins to himself. He knows there is only one reason Jack would have him put a suit on so he knows he won’t be wearing it for long. He takes his time then, dressing. Enjoying the feel of the crisp cotton shirt against his skin, the silk of the tie as it runs through is figures, the reassuringly heavy weight of the jacket as he slips it over his shoulders.
He heads back downstairs and approaches Jack’s office. The Hub is now empty. Ianto walks into the office to find Jack standing in front of a table laid delicately, but not romantically, for two.
He stops. “What is this?”
“Dinner. I’ve had food brought over from that French place you like. Sit down and I’ll dish up.”
Ianto sits and soon a plate of delicious food is in front of him and Jack is opposite him. There are no prying eyes, no good natured giggles from team-mates, no whispered comments from passers-by. It’s just them. Just him and Jack.
Jack stares at Ianto, concerned that he hasn’t said anything.
“Is this okay Ianto? Would you have preferred to go out somewhere?”
Ianto smiles. “No Jack. This is perfect, thank you.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ianto knows that Jack hates to be comforted. He knows that Jack takes his pain and hurt deep inside, refusing to share it with anyone. He keeps it locked in his heart like a punishment he deserves, refusing to let anyone else near it.
Ianto knows that Jack feels like he has to keep up an appearance for their benefit. Jack feels the weight of them all on his shoulders, feels like he has to be strong for them all the time and allowing them to share in his grief is letting them down somehow.
Jack doesn’t want them to see that he is weak too. That he too can be crippled by the grief of losing friends. Jack will show emotion, but it’s always guarded, always wrapped up in layers of protection.
So when Ianto forces his way into Jack’s office in the middle of the night and hears him crying, but goes to him anyway, he fully expects to receive a forceful rebuff, or a lie or a faked seduction, anything but for Jack to open up and be honest in his grief. Refusing to let Ianto close enough to offer words or touches of comfort.
He is surprised then to find Jack clinging to him and pouring out his heart; a heart broken by the deaths of his beautiful scientist and brilliant doctor.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ianto is tidying Jack’s office. Not that there is anything to tidy. Jack’s been gone for two days; in London meeting Unit representatives and trying to explain to the PM why that great idea of his is really not that great.
His phone rings and startles him somewhat. He is even more startled to see that it is Jack calling him.
“Hi Jack. What’s up?”
“Nothing I’m just…I’m just bored. You know how it is up here. And I know how you hate having to hide the pay per view bills on the official accounts.”
Ianto laughs and gently closes the office door, before sinking into a chair.
“So, tell me about your day.”
After nearly an hour of easy chat and laughter Ianto’s stomach growls loud enough for Jack to hear it over the phone.
“Haven’t you eaten yet?”
“No. Gwen had just arrived for the night shift when you called. I was going to grab something soon.”
“Okay, I’ll let you go eat then.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, and Ianto?”
"Yes Jack?”
“I…I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?”
“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”
Ianto leaves the office and his hand is still on the handle pulling the door shut when he hears Gwen on the phone.
“Okay Rhys, good night sweetheart. I love you.”
Ianto is gripped by a sudden wave of déjà vu. He stares down at the phone still in his hand.
It takes a second, but slowly a smile spreads across his face.
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Great stories luv. All of them.
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Gxxx
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Awwwwwww. Owen:(
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Okay, trying to put hormones into check.
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Love your story
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So, Jack.
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This was so warm and lovely.
Beautiful ideas, beautifully written.
Definitely a keeper!
.
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Yes. I finally sat down and replied to this. Because it is brilliant and so cute and totally Jack. I love how Jack never actually said the words - that made this all the more believable. It's all the little things. ^_^
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Thank you.