Mavvy's bunny. I hope I did it justice.
There's alcohol, then there's laughter, then there's sex.
All of which Ianto is surprised to find he's actually quite all right with.
Jack is good in bed.
They fuck, and Ianto feels good after. His body is pleasantly used and wrung out, and Jack lets him go right to sleep.
Ianto wakes up alone in the morning. There's no note on the pillow, no sign that Jack's departure is recent. No sign that Jack was there at all, actually.
A few days later, Jack asks Ianto to stay late again. There is no mistaking it, this time. More blunt than a seduction, but more suave than a proposition. Maybe what they have is an arrangement, but maybe not. Ianto isn't really sure what's what at all anymore, but Jack makes him feel alive and that's all he needs.
He wonders, for about an hour, if this is Jack's way of apoligising.
He comes to the conclusion that Jack doesn't really ever apologise for anything. It's just not his style
Five encounters. Five nights of drinking and slowly letting Jack push his barriers down. Five nights spent in Jack's room.
Jack keeps it tidy, unlike his office. It gives the impression of being unlived in. There's a binder on the desk, but only one. Ianto doesn't dare open it, not even when he's sure Jack isn't around.
"You should keep a toothbrush here if we're gonna keep this up." Jack says one morning when he seeks Ianto out in the shower. Jack is naked, and half-hard, and grinning like a loon.
Ianto's pulse quickens. Later, he'll wonder what Jack means by that. Now he just hopes that Tosh doesn't decide today is a good day to come in early.
Ianto goes on more field missions.
He gets weapons training from Jack. Mostly legitimate; there was that one time, when Ianto had to replace the floor mat after. Tosh never quite stops giving him those looks out of the corners of her eyes, like she doesn't really know what he's doing here with the rest of him.
He's meant to identify with her, he thinks. Owen and Gwen have their thing, as complicated and destructive as it may be, and he and Tosh - they're both quiet, they both hurt. But it isn't the same, Ianto thinks, not at all. They aren't the same.
"You feel so good," Jack pants, two seconds away from coming inside of Ianto. Ianto's forehead presses into the pillow and he clenches his entire body, focusing on the spike of pleasure at the center of him. He rocks back into Jack, his arse flush with Jack's pelvis, and Jack grabs his hips and shouts a sound of pure gratification.
Ianto jerks himself off with quick little movements. As sweat stings drips and stings his eyes, Ianto comes onto his wrist and hand.
Seven times, now, spread over the past three months. That's not quite once a week, but the first encounters were spaced farther apart than the last few.
It's been six days, and when Ianto shows up that morning he's willing to lay a fiver on Jack asking him to stay late and offering him something to drink.
He'll never be sure if he was right about that or not. They end up in the middle of town chasing down what turns out to be nothing more than an alien vacuum cleaner, laughing themselves silly over the very idea of it. When Owen says he's needs a drink, Jack loops his arm around Ianto's shoulders and agrees.
Ianto doesn't know what Jack wants from him, so he finds that it is safer to assume that Jack wants nothing but a warm body to do dirty things with.
The idea is almost comforting. If Jack wanted more, that would mean decisions to be made and lives to be rearranged to fit this weird thing into.
They sit in a circular corner booth at the pub. Jack and Ianto are at opposite ends. Beside Ianto is Tosh, and beside Tosh are Gwen and Owen pressed comfortable together.
Tosh watches Owen and Gwen. Gwen watches Owen, except sometimes when she turns to look at Jack. Owen watches anything that has a pulse and walks by on two legs. Jack watches them all, and Ianto watches nothing but the small space of table in front of him.
"I need another drink," Ianto says, and goes to the bar.
At the bar, it's clear that he's caught someone's eye. The bloke that approaches him is a few inches shorter than Ianto is, with sandy blonde hair and green eyes. He's cute, and ages away from what Ianto is used to.
The anonymous attention feels good, and though he doesn't actively encourage it, he doesn't go out of his way to discourage it either.
When Ianto says that he's here for a work meeting, the bloke - Jake - scribbles his number onto a bar napkin and hands it to Ianto. Ianto tucks it into his pocket. He'll never call it, but he doesn't feel like throwing it away just yet.
Back at the table, Owen is howling.
"Ianto! You gettin' pulled out there, mate?" Owen turns to Gwen, who is grinning into her drink. "You see that, love? Ianto here, he's showin' us how it's done."
Jack's face has taken on a slightly flinty expression.
"Didn't know you went that way, though. Thought you were strictly one for the lay-dees." Owen is very clearly drunk and oblivious to the tension radiating from their captain that even Gwen is starting to notice. "Get his number, right? You ought to go find him. I'm sure Jack wouldn't mind you skiving off, not in the name of getting a bit of action. Right, Jack?"
"Ianto is free to do whatever he likes." Jack slams his beer bottle down so hard that the table shakes and then stands up. "I need a few minutes."
Ianto finds him out back, smoking a cigarette.
"I didn't know you smoked." Ianto says, wishing he'd brought his jacket.
"I don't. Anymore. Go back inside."
Ianto takes the napkin out of his pocket and looks at it. "Owen thinks you're going to deck him when you come back in."
"Nah." Jack glances at the napkin, too, and then stubs the cigarette out.
Ianto rips the napkin in half. "I don't know what this is, sir."
Jack laughs, bitter and half-hearted. "If you're still calling me sir, then it's obviously not anything at all."
"Jack." Ianto amends.
"You can go off with whoever you want. I was just under the mistaken-"
"You never said, si- Jack. I wasn't sure..."
"Well, I'm saying now." Jack stands right in front of him, inside his personal space. "I like you, Ianto. I'm not exactly an expert on the subject - though by now maybe I should be - but I may even love you. Is that want you wanted to hear?"
Ianto speaks very carefully. "I don't know what I wanted to hear."
But maybe he does, because the next thing he does is kiss Jack. He puts his hand on the back of Jack's neck and feels the bristling hairs tickle his fingertips, and Jack's mouth is wet and warm and slightly acrid, like smoke from the tobacco, but his tongue is solid and thick inside Ianto's mouth as it plunders and explores and takes. But Ianto is not passive, not this time; Ianto takes too, and demands more.
When they pull back, Ianto can feel that his face is flushed. Such boldness is not characteristic, but Jack seems to appreciate it. "If you go home with anyone but me after this, I may have to kill them."
Ianto laughs and his mouth brush against Jack's. He puckers and kisses lightly, almost chastely, and then hugs Jack hard.
His dignity reasserts itself and he takes a step back, straightening his shirt. "Why don't you just kill Owen instead?"
Owen lives through the night.
Jack taken Ianto home and fucks him. Ianto lets him, sober and smiling.