A Gentleman's Gentleman -- chapter 3

[bluecastle]

Chapter 3 – Gamesmanship

a/n: Jack’s morning session got rather highjacked by another more interesting session between Ianto and Jack. But I’m rather pleased with the chance to explore this oh so complex relationship, so I went with it…it’s also more M than I’ve ever written, so be forwarned about some intense language and situations…

Jack was sitting at the corner of a large U-shaped table with the rest of the conference attendees, bathed in the blue light of what Jack felt must surely be the most boring PowerPoint presentation in the history of the galaxy… maybe even the universe. It was killing him knowing that Ianto was behind him, sitting in a row of chairs along the wall provided for the attendee’s assistants. Jack could smell him, could sense that unmistakable essence of Ianto, a heady combination of coffee bean, ink, silk, citrus, and desire. Jack inhaled the familiar aromas, and the very air tasted of Ianto.

Jack squirmed in his seat. The thought, the smell, the taste of Ianto was beginning to overwhelm his never very strong sense of decorum. He took a drink from the water glass in front of him, and tried to concentrate on the presentation. Colonel Mace was only up to February in his rundown of UNITs year-in-review. Jack flopped back in his chair, and wished he were anywhere but here. As he sat in the darkened room, eyes closed, with desperation looming, he heard Ianto softly cough. Jack froze, and concentrated on listening for some sign from the younger man. He didn’t have long to wait. From behind him, came a subtle tapping of pen on paper. The casual listener would not have been able to make out anything other than Ianto scribbling in his notebook, but Ianto, clever Ianto, was tapping out a message that only Jack, with his century of military experience would recognize. In Morse Code, Jack heard “Patience, Cariad” tapped out over and over. Jack stilled, as ever amazed at the resourcefulness of Ianto Jones.

Ianto smiled and rolled his eyes. On one level, manipulating Jack wasn’t much more difficult than dealing with a cranky toddler or a mischievous puppy. As Ianto went back to taking notes, a stray thought tickled his brain and he found himself wondering about how much of their relationship was about them manipulating each other. Almost from the start there was a lot of game playing between them, in ways good and bad. Their first year together had been something of a battle of wits and wills. Most of the Torchwood team, Ianto knew, would have characterized their early relationship as Jack’s seduction of Ianto. But the two men knew better.

They didn’t talk about it much, both because it was very much in the past for them, but also because, Ianto sensed that Jack was a bit chagrined that Ianto had taken rather more control over what happened than Jack was comfortable remembering. Ianto thought back over those first early weeks and months, and realized with equal parts pride and shame, that he had pulled off a con worthy of Jack Harkness. With little more than a tight pair of jeans and a keen intellect, Ianto had managed to reel Jack in, all the while maintaining the illusion that it was Jack who was in control of the seduction.

It all came tumbling out late one night several months after Lisa’s death. They were lying tangled up in each other’s arms on Jack’s bunk, bathed in sweat and each other’s fluids after what had started out as a mindless coupling had turned into something a little rougher, and a lot more exciting than either man had intended. Ianto was face down, clutching Jack’s pillow and gasping for air. Jack was draped over him, kissing his way up Ianto’s neck, and running his fingers through his young lover’s hair. He ran his hand down Ianto’s arm, and twined their fingers as he whispered, “Wow. There’s a wild streak in you Ianto Jones. Where have you been hiding that?”

“Don’t!” Ianto had cried, burying his head in the pillow.

“Hey. What is it? You OK?”

Ianto shook his head and wished for the millionth time that Jack had shot him in the head and put him out of his misery.

“Talk to me Ianto. I rather enjoyed that, and I’d hate to think you didn’t.” Jack took ahold of Ianto’s shoulder and rolled him over so he could look at him. “Did I hurt you?”

Ianto couldn’t look at Jack. He just lay there on his side, eyes closed, trying not to cry and not succeeding.

“Yes,” he finally choked out. Jack tried to wrap his arms around Ianto, but Ianto pushed him away. “Jack, please…” he looked up into his boss’s face, tears clinging to long dark eyelashes, and confessed in a still small empty voice, “I wanted you to.”

Jack tried to respond but found he had no words.

Ianto rushed on, “God. How can you not hate me? I’m so confused, Jack. I really hate you, you know?”

“I know.”

“I despise you Jack. I do. But when I look at you… when you touch me, I want you to hold me and never let me go. How is that possible? God, Jack… you’re such a monster, but I want you so badly. What the fuck does that make me?”

“Ianto…”

“No. Let me say this. Maybe you can help me understand. Maybe you’re the only one who can. I think every day that I’d be better off if you’d just blown my brains out when you had your Webley pressed to my temple. But you didn’t, so now this fucked up life is mine to deal with. How do I begin to make sense out of the shambles of the past six months?”

Ianto looked at Jack who was watching him, and was almost undone by the kindness in the other mans eyes, but Jack just sat silently, waiting for Ianto to continue.

“I betrayed you Jack. I lied to you so many times, to all of you. It’s bad enough I lied my way into this job…”

“Torchwood needed you Ianto. We just didn’t know it,” Jack said quietly, with a smile.

“Yep. You did,” Ianto replied with his own small smile.

“But that’s not what’s got you all twisted up, is it?,” Jack asked.

“You know it’s not. The rest of it, the guilt about that, I will learn to live with. I will spend the rest of my life doing what I can to fix that betrayal. But here I am, in your bed. A bed I lied my way into.”

“And that scares you?”

“Being in your bed doesn’t scare me Jack. I knew what I was doing when I seduced you.”

Jack was genuinely confused by this.

“I always thought it was the other way ‘round.”

“I know. You wouldn’t have wanted me otherwise. I’m a pragmatic person. I knew what I needed, and what I needed was for you to be distracted enough for me to keep Lisa hidden. I watched you Jack, for weeks before that first encounter in the park. I hid in the alleyway and watched as you screwed that little redhead out back of the pub. You hiked her skirt up and had her on top of a beer keg. And the banker you banged in the men’s room of that little jazz club around the corner. You had him hard and fast up against the cold porcelain tiles as I stood in the shadows and listened to what you liked. As for the couple you enticed into that bus shelter down the docks… I learned a lot about your predilections as I followed you around Cardiff. You’re predatory, Jack, a hunter. And the harder your prey is to catch, the more enticing it becomes.”

“You…?”

“Yes, you bastard. I prepared for a job as your Archivist by cataloging your fucks.”

“But…”

“No Jack. I gave you just what you wanted. I gave you someone to chase. Someone who knew what you liked, someone near enough for you to entice, but not easy enough for you to forget. I let you use me. And I was ok with that.”

“Really?” Jack asked, his eyebrow and his ire raised. “So the whole ‘I’ve never been with a man, you’ll have to show me what to do, Sir’ schtick was a lie too?”

Ianto flushed, and dipped his head. “The best lies are part truth Jack.”

Jack tipped Ianto head up, and looked deep into his eyes. “Tell me the truth Ianto. Start rebuilding this life with the truth.”

Ianto sighed deeply. He rearranged himself under the thin silk sheet so that his back was against the wall. He wrapped his arms around his knees and leaned his head back and tried to find a way to begin.

“I never wanted to want you Jack. You, you’re heat and light and dark chocolate and blue skies. You taste like sin, and you leave me hungry for more. It’s never been like this for me. For the most part I’ve always done what was expected of me. Dated nice respectable girls I could bring home, who made me feel good about myself. It felt right with Lisa. I was growing up. We were planning a life together. I wanted a little girl with her curls and my eyes. I was good at loving her. I knew what to do, and I made her happy.”

“Did she make you happy Ianto?”

“Happy enough.”

“Did you love anyone else, before Lisa?”

“I don’t think I’d really been in love before Lisa. My first proper girlfriend was called Bronwen. We were at the polytechnic together before I transferred to Uni and she was my lab partner. She had long curly brown hair and big brown eyes. The girls had to wear these little pleated skirts, and I fell for her the first time I saw her leaning over the lab table. She was the first girl I ever slept with. We lasted about four months. She broke up with me at the end of term. There was a chubby girl called Harriet who I went around with for a while, but it never got very serious, and then she left me for a girl called Brenda. I was on my own for a long time after that. I transferred to University, and I drifted. I spent a lot of time getting drunk and high, and I did a lot of groping in dark corners of bars. I learned the fun one can have with hands and mouths, but was always careful to keep it casual.”

“Were there ever boys? There must have been a few.”

“Jack…”

“Tell the truth Ianto, if not to me, at least to yourself. Close your eyes, take a deep breath and tell me about the first boy you ever loved.”

“His name was Paul, and he was beautiful. Captain of the Rugby team, soloist in the school choir, Debate Team. He was everything I was not. I loved him, and he never even knew I existed. I’d watch him debate, or sing, standing there in front of everyone, tall and slim and blonde. He had the longest fingers, Jack. I wanted those fingers on me. I’d watch him during Rugby matches and imagine what it must be like to be that close to him. To have his arms around my shoulders, to have his hands in my hair. But I was fifteen Jack. I didn’t understand any of these feelings. I was small, and dark, and desperately shy.”

“And the first boy you slept with?”

“I never knew the name of the first boy who screwed me. I was drunk, and out with a roommate who was gay. We were dancing, and drinking, and high on ecstasy, and the next thing I know I’m kissing this bloke, and he drags me into the bathroom and is inside me before I really even know what’s happening. It hurt like hell, and I had to finish myself off afterwards ‘cause he was gone once he’d gotten himself off. He was a blonde too, and he smelt like gin. Other than that, I have no idea. After that, there were a lot of partners... but I never let another guy get inside me. I learned to enjoy sex, and it didn’t really matter to me who I was with. Then when I met Lisa it all changed. Before Lisa I never really cared who or where or when. It was good, but it never lasted. But with Lisa there was tenderness. It was slow, and it was sweet, and it was good. She was warm and soft, and I could bury myself in her and feel normal. She was safe.”

If Ianto had looked at Jack he would have seen kind eyes brimming with tears. But he didn’t look up as he continued.

“Shit, Jack. I felt safe with Lisa. Life was finally going my way. And then the battle happened, and any thoughts of safety were destroyed along with everything else that day. Terror and desperation became a way of life. I had to go back into the shadows I thought I’d left behind me. And so here I am, in your bed. Bewitched by the man who was supposed to save my Lisa and who murdered her in front of me. How am I supposed to live with that?”

“By not hiding yourself Ianto, from me, or from yourself. You are a complex, silly, mysterious, wonderful human being. You are as overwhelming to me as you say I am to you. You... you're organized chaos. Smoky Scotch and vanilla ice-cream. Hot, dark, sweet coffee and cool Welsh rain. You’re stronger than almost anyone I have ever met, and yet you are still able to melt like silk in my arms. You have seen horrors in your short life that no one should have to experience. Hate me for as long as you need to, I’m OK with that. There are dark shadows that I see in your eyes and I recognize them because they are in me too. I know how it feels to have hate and love all mixed up together. But know this -- your betrayal of me is in the past. It was done out of love. I have done a lot of things for reasons a lot less noble. I’d like to think I could give you comfort and safety, but the truth is that outside of this bed, those things don’t exist. Here, now, today, this minute you are in my bed, and I am happy for you to remain there as long as you want to. All you can do Ianto is ask yourself what you want, what will make you truly happy.”

Jack had kissed him gently, and then showered, leaving Ianto time to gather his thoughts. Jack returned, a towel wrapped around his waist. He looked down at the man who was still sitting in his bed, idly running the edge of the silk sheet through his fingers.

A rumpled naked man in his bed usually made Jack happy. But he remained still, waiting for Ianto to make the first move, to take the next step.

“Shower’s free,” is all Jack intended to say, but he found himself continuing with, “I could take you to breakfast if you’d like…”

“If this is about what I’d like … I’d like for you to come back to bed Jack.”

“I thought you hated me.”

“I do. But the thing is… I want to get over the feeling of hating you. What I don’t want is to get over is the feeling of loving you.”

“Loving me?”

“I am not in love with you Jack. I don’t know if I will ever be in love again. But a part of me is still that confused, scared fifteen year old who wants a boy's hands in his hair. Right now this bed feels like comfort and safety, and I need that Jack. I need it so much.”

Ianto found himself unable to look at Jack. His head was down resting on the arms wrapped around his knees. Jack stepped forward and twined his fingers in Ianto’s hair, and for a little while the two men lost themselves in each other.

Ianto’s reverie was interrupted by the chirping of his phone. He took a few deep breaths to try and clear the memories of that long ago day when he and Jack had taken those first few tentative steps forward. He flipped his phone open to read the text message. The Colonel had reached August in the presentation, and Jack had slumped down in his chair, bored and cranky.

He had been getting frequent texts from Tosh with updates on rift activity. This one simply read, “Small spike. Sent Gwen and Owen to deal with it. Enjoy your time with Jack. Tosh.”

Ianto could see the tension radiating from Jack in the chair in front of him. He realized that another distraction was called for. It would call for subtlety, but fortunately, Ianto had an A level in subtle. He pulled a sheet of his very special stationary out of the back of his notebook, uncapped his fountain pen and wrote yet another note.

Sir,

Dr. Sato wants me to inform you that the rift, while unpredictable, is behaving within normal parameters. In other words, all seems to be well at home.

The Colonel only has four more months to cover, so try and be patient. While you are sitting there plotting creative ways of killing a superior officer, I need you to work out something for me.

You are wearing a very attractive tie (If I do say so myself), and before the end of this session, I want you to come up with twelve ways that we can use that tie during the hour we have free for lunch. I have informed the house staff that we will be eating in your room as we discuss some personnel issues that have arisen during your absence from Cardiff. A very sweet housemaid named Deirdre has agreed to leave some sandwiches for us, bless her.

Don’t let me down, Jack.

With a smile, Ianto folded the note and slipped it into the matching envelope. Leaving his notebook on his chair, he stepped forward and put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. He leaned down and whispered in Jack’s ear. “Urgent message for you Sir.” While Jack opened the note and read it, Ianto stealthily stroked that spot on Jack’s neck just at his hairline that drove him crazy, and gently blew into his ear. The resulting startled expression on Jack’s face was interpreted by the UNIT personnel around him as some unexpected news contained in the note.

“Very good, Jones,” was Jack’s measured reply, but Ianto knew what he was trying to say. When Ianto returned to his chair and sat down, he saw that Jack had pulled out a pen and was now making notes on a piece of paper.

Ianto couldn’t wait to see what uses Jack would find for the new tie.

Chapter Four Here

 
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