bluecastle | A Gentleman's Gentleman -- chapter 2

Chapter 2 – At Break of Day

When Ianto sent Jack back to his room after they’d made the rounds of the opening night reception, smilingly telling him he’d “join him in a little while,” Jack was eager to find out what would follow. Twenty minutes or so after he’d returned to his room, there was a sharp, brusque knock on his door and he never expected to be confronted with what he saw when he responded to the knock. Standing before him in full UNIT kit –- boots, camouflage uniform, utility belt, sidearm, and that unmistakable red beret -- was a serious faced soldier (with very familiar blue eyes) who saluted sharply and announced, “Reporting for duty as requested, Sir.”

Jack’s eyes sparkled as he eyed up the soldier with a practiced gaze and replied in a voice he had rarely used since some time towards to end of the Second World War.

“Enter and stand at the ready, soldier.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Jack closed the door, turned and continued his inspection of the soldier before him. He adjusted the angle of the beret, and then curiosity got the better of him, and with hands clasped behind his back, he asked, “Tell me soldier, what are your orders?”

“I have them here, Sir, if you’d care to inspect them.” The soldier had a dossier stamped “classified” tucked under his arm. He handed it to a highly amused Jack, who opened it and read the single sheet of paper it contained. The orders read:

“In light of Captain Jack Harkness’s recent temporary reassignment to Lethbridge House, Scotland, Torchwood III has requested, and has been granted the assistance of UNIT Auxiliary Support Officer Ianto Jones, until such time as Captain Harkness has no further need of his able assistance. ASO Jones has been informed of your dislike of this transfer, and he has been charged with providing whatever positive reinforcement might be necessary for you to look fondly upon this posting.

It is acknowledged that the Scottish highlands can be a dangerous place, so please make sure that ASO Jones is thoroughly schooled in all manner of personal defense techniques, especially instances of hand to hand combat. Close-order drills may be necessary, and may be instituted at Captain Harkness’s discretion. ASO Jones is yours to command.”

Jack took full advantage of his orders…

When he woke just after dawn the next morning, there was not a trace of Ianto in his suite, other than a pair of dog tags lying on what Jack had rather sheepishly come to think of as Ianto’s side of the bed. Jack smiled when he realized that the dog tags were the only things Ianto had been wearing by the time they had finally fallen asleep soon after their third foray into what Ianto had laughingly christened “Night Maneuvers.”

As Jack slid out of bed, and wandered towards the bathroom, he realized that Ianto had left more than just the dog tags behind. The suitcase that Jack had flung into the corner when he had arrived yesterday had been unpacked. His t-shirts, underwear, socks, and handkerchiefs had been stowed away in the ornate dresser next to the bathroom door with something akin to military precision. A neatly folded set of underthings lay on the top of the bureau ready for him to put on. On the hook on the back of the bathroom door hung his favorite waistcoat, with the matching pants, and a shirt Jack had never seen before. It was a neatly pressed, pale ivory shirt with a fine burgundy stripe running through it. Over the shirt hanger was draped a tie, and Jack’s eyebrow quirked in surprise at this addition to his standard wardrobe choices. Jack fingered the tie, realizing quickly that it was a very good quality silk tie with a small navy, burgundy, and ivory check.

When he stepped into the luxurious bathroom he was stunned to realize that Ianto had taken care of things in here as well. There were fresh white fluffy towels that Jack knew had not been there yesterday, draped over the towel warmer, ready for his use. His straight razor, shaving mug, toothbrush, and a brand new tube of toothpaste were sitting ready by the sink. And best of all, on the upholstered bench that sat in the middle of the room was a tray with an insulated thermos, a very familiar looking blue and white striped mug, a cinnamon roll, and a note.

The things before him made Jack smile, but the note made him laugh out loud. Some months back, Ianto had discovered a stash of turn-of-the-century stationary embossed with the Torchwood logo shoved into the back of a cupboard in a deserted corner of the archives. Jack had told him to get rid of it. His own memories of the notes he’d been handed in that stationary were not ones Jack wanted to be reminded of. But Ianto’s stubborn streak had surfaced. He had told Jack in no uncertain terms that high quality note paper was something to be appreciated in its own right, and had said he would find a use for it. Jack hadn’t seen any evidence of the notepaper for a few weeks, but then one day when he yanked his top desk drawer open in a fit of impatience looking for his missing letter opener, he had found a sealed note sitting on top of the flotsam and jetsam that Jack had dumped into the drawer over the years. The early notes handed peremptorily to Jack when Torchwood needed something unpleasant taken care of always had his name scrawled across the front in bold black ink. The note that Jack found in his drawer had one word written on it in the bluish-purple ink Ianto favored. The envelope read simply “Sir.” This very first note had made him flush with anticipation, and the suggestions it contained were carried out later that evening after Jack had sent the rest of the team home.

These little envelopes had continued to pop up randomly when Jack least expected them. They were always addressed “Sir,” and were never signed, but often contained innocuous notes like “Mushrooms or Peppers on the Pizzas for lunch?” Sometimes they would be reminders like, “Please requisition an additional phone. Owen smashed his. Again.” There were often variations on the first note, suggesting things Jack was only too happy to go along with. Naked Hide and Seek had been the result of one particularly steamy series of notes that kept falling out from between the monthly efficiency reports. Once in a great while there would be a sentimental note, tucked under Jack’s pillow. Jack had been stunned by the first one of these which read, “It feels so good to wake up with your arms around me.” There were a few apology notes saying simply, “I know I’m an idiot” or “Forgive me.” Those Jack liked to contrast with the angry notes which were usually yellow post-it-notes that Ianto would leave stuck to his computer monitor with a note like “GROW THE FUCK UP JACK!”

Jack poured himself a cup of coffee from the thermos, taking a moment to enjoy the aroma of the special mystery blend Ianto had developed just for him. Jack had no idea how Ianto had arranged all this for him, but he was enjoying being so well looked after. He drank his coffee, nibbled on the cinnamon roll, and then he picked up the note and went to open it. As he flipped it over, Jack realized that this note had one difference from all the others. It had been sealed with a blob of red sealing wax which was stamped with an ornate J. The note inside, written in Ianto’s precise script read:

Good Morning. I hope you have found everything pleasurable so far. I certainly have. There are a lot more surprises in store for you, but first things first. The conference schedule indicates that breakfast will be served in the South Drawing Room at 8:45. Please try and keep your cuffs out of the butter for once. I will join you for the first session at 9:30 – The yearly State of UNIT address by Colonel Mace. I will take notes. You will NOT draw rude pictures in the margins of your handouts.

Please note the silk tie I left you. Wear it. Not only will it make you look damn good… but it will come in handy later at a time and place of my choosing.

The fun has only begun Cariad.

Jack decided he was a very lucky man.

Chapter Three Here

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