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Title: A Little Bit Happy
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating:  PG13 (Implied rather than shown)
Spoilers:  Set pre-series
Warnings:  None
Word Count:  Around 1500
Disclaimer:  I own nothing.

Authors Note:  For the Emotion:Happiness square on my Kiss Bingo.  Longer than I expected and also less happy.  Hmm...

It had been quiet in Cardiff for over a week. Jack was almost tempted to say too quiet, as if the rift was storing up some special kind of trouble, waiting for the right moment to piss all over his fireworks. But Jack wasn’t going to let this ruin his good mood. Things were going smoothly for once, and he was going to take full advantage; and there was one thing in particular he was planning to take advantage of, one person.

Ianto Jones was just his type. That was not, as Suzie often suggested, anyone with a pulse or, as Owen stated, pulse optional. No, Jack had a very specific type, despite how it looked to those outside his head and Ianto fit it perfectly. Ianto Jones was damaged.  

Jack couldn’t prove it, of course, but he could see it in the man’s eyes, the way he moved, the way he wore those delightful suits as if they were his armour against the world. It wasn’t surprising; he’d seen the aftermath of Canary Wharf and as much as he’d hated Torchwood One, hated everything they stood for, everything they’d done with their narrow little twenty-first century minds, he wouldn’t wish that death, that destruction, on anyone. Ianto Jones had been at ground zero and he had the shrapnel wounds to show it. It was that darkness that drew Jack in, of sure, the pretty face and the well-fitted suits helped, but there was enough of that out in the world, it wasn’t enough to hold his attention for long.

Jack smiled, tipping backwards in his chair. Suzie did not approve of his interest in Ianto. Then again, Suzie didn’t approve of much he did. With a snort, he swung his chair back onto all four legs and jumped to his feet, sweeping out of his office with an air of drama that he saved for special occasions.

“Hey,” he called down to his team below, “don’t you people have homes to go to?  It's time to clear out.  Get out of here.”

Owen was on his feet before Jack even finished dismissing them, no doubt heading out to find some lucky lady for the evening, or guy, Jack could tell when someone swung that way. Usually anyway, he’d been having trouble deciphering Ianto’s furtive glances. Speaking of Ianto...His eyes scanned the Hub, searching. Owen was grabbing his coat, halfway out the door already, Toshiko still hunched over her computer, showing no sign of having heard him, and Suzie was working on the glove.

“In a minute Jack, I think I’ve found something.”

Jack’s interest was piqued. He jogged down the steps and peered over her shoulder. “You’ve figured out how to work it?”

“Think so, just needs a fresh corpse.” She smiled at him.

“Tosh,” he called.

“I’ll widen the parameters on the police scanner programme.”

“Violent deaths,” Suzie clarified, “the emotion should help strengthen the connection between the glove and the victim.”

“Good, great,” Jack clapped her on the shoulder, “now my last order stands. Get that thing packed up and clear out, both of you. Barring emergency, I don’t want to see either of you until lunch tomorrow. A bit of sunshine will do you good.”

“I’ll just finish up here,” Tosh said.

“Ten minutes,” he told her.

“Promise,” she waved a hand at him.

“Either of you seen Ianto?” He asked, trying for casual and failing if Suzie's expression was anything to go by.

“He said he was heading down to the archives,” Tosh answered.

Jack smiled to himself and set off into the depths of Torchwood with a spring in his step.

"See ya tomorrow, girls."

The original team in Cardiff had dug in deep and Ianto seemed to like the solitude the hub offered in its archives that the rest of the team avoided like the plague. Jack suspected that Ianto knew those passages better than even Jack did.

“Ianto,” he called out as he reached the main archive room, or rooms really, a chain of rooms reaching further and deeper into the Hub. “Ianto.” His voice echoed around the damp walls.

He found Ianto in one of the sub-archives, surrounded by artefacts Jack had personally verified as `non-lethal but may come in handy`, looking for all the world as though he had settled in for the night.

He looked up as Jack walked in. “Good evening, sir.”

Jack leaned against the arched doorway to watch as Ianto, with rolled up shirts sleeves and a waistcoat, packed a Fespan tractor beam back into its box and made a notation on his clipboard.

“Have you been down here all day?” Jack asked.

Ianto’s shoulders seemed to tighten, but he answered readily enough so Jack figured it was the lighting. “I thought I’d get some tidying done while it was quiet.”

“I’ve sent everyone home.”

Ianto looked up, “a bit early for that.”

“Early finish tonight and a late start tomorrow. Get some downtime while the rift allows it.”

“Of course, sir.” Ianto made another notation on his clipboard.

“So are you heading out, Ianto?” Jack asked.

“I’ve started now, I should finish this section.”

“It’s waited seventy years to be re-catalogued, I think it can survive another night.”

“And if the rift spits out an army of Weevils tomorrow,” Ianto lifted up the plain metal cylinder that had been sitting on the shelf next to him, “this might be all that stands between us and death by evisceration.”

Jack smirked. “I doubt you’d want to use that on a Weevil,” he gave Ianto an assessing glance, “unless you’ve been hiding some disturbing inclinations.”

Ianto glanced down at the object in his hand, tilted his head sideways as he studied it. Jack saw the moment he got it, eyebrows rising as he set it carefully back on the shelf.

“Lepscillians,” Jack said, nodding at the device, “fun people”

“And why is it in the `non-lethal but may come in handy` subdivision?” Ianto asked.

Jack grinned and held Ianto’s gaze, “you don’t think it’s going to come in handy one day?”

Ianto turned away first, moving to the back of the small room and giving the device a wide birth. Jack let his eyes roam down Ianto’s back, settling comfortably on that intriguing ass.

Jack felt a thrill of attraction run through him and stepped forward till he was almost plastered against Ianto’s back. Ianto tensed, but didn’t move away.

“I love this suit on you.” Jack wrapped an arm loosely around Ianto’s body and ran his fingers down the buttons of Ianto’s waistcoat.

“Careful, sir,” Ianto said, his voice quiet and rough, “that’s harassment.”

“Do you feel harassed?” Jack asked.

Ianto turned in the circle of Jack’s arm until they were facing each other.  The corner of his mouth twitched as if he was trying not to smile.

"Oh," he said, "absolutely."

Jack had loved and lost enough people to know that this house he’d built around himself couldn’t last. Soon it would collapse taking all of them – Tosh and Suzie, Owen and Ianto – with it; and Jack would start over again. Again and again and again. But for now, for tonight at least, it was all still standing. For now he could try for this, enjoy this.

Ianto didn’t back away from him as he reached up his free hand to cup Ianto’s face, tightening the arm he already had around his waist. He leaned forward slowly, giving Ianto plenty of time to stop him. When their lips brushed together Jack held his breath, savouring the feeling of Ianto’s soft lips beneath his. He sucked lightly and traced his tongue lightly against Iantos’ bottom lip.

When he pulled back Ianto’s eyes were still closed, but they blinked open as Jack watched him.

“What was that for?” Ianto asked.

“Take me to bed, Ianto Jones.”

Jack waited for the rejection, watched the pain and darkness Ianto seemed to hold just beneath the surface. It seemed to clear a little as Ianto stared back at him, easing back to show something lighter. Jack liked to imagine that he could do that, that he could make Ianto just a little bit happy the way that Ianto did to him. It wasn’t perfect, not some fairytale love, but a little bit happy, it wasn’t bad.


Jack blinked, taking a moment to understand that the rebuff he’d expected hadn’t come. He was still processing when Ianto handed him the cylindrical device.

“I’ll get the disinfectant wipes,” Ianto said, heading out the doorway.

Jack looked down and the cool metal in his hand and grinned.  Yes, Ianto Jones was definitely his type.
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January 2011


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