Entry tags:

fics, jack/ianto, torchwood

Fic: Ianto and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (1/1)
Title: Ianto and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
Author: salixbabylon
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2033
Disclaimer: Russell T. Davies owns everything. I'm just playing naughty games with his dollies.
Summary: Ianto has a bad day. Written in honor of sarka's birthday.

Notes: Tons of thanks to soar38 for fixing my grammar and Americanisms!

Ianto and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

It was the worst day Ianto could think of, at least in the sense of a bad day by the standards of normal people. Like any typical Tuesday, he awoke to the sound of his alarm going off, although it must have somehow been jostled as it was blaring loud hip-hop music rather than his preferred quiet classical. He'd showered, in water that had never quite warmed up to his preferred temperature, then brewed a cup of tea to drink while he read the newspaper. Not until he took the first sip, eyes scanning headlines, did he realize that the milk had evidently gone clumpy and nasty.

He didn't have time to make another cuppa before leaving, but he consoled himself with promises of a pot of fresh, perfect coffee once he got to work. It was a little upsetting to realize how much his body relied on that bit of caffeine first thing in the morning, though; he tripped on a crack in the same stretch of pavement he walked down every day and nearly stumbled.

The morning was uncharacteristically slow. Nothing was happening at the Hub. No activity, no reports of anything unusual in Cardiff, nor in all of Wales for that matter. A reprieve was certainly not a bad thing, but it was so unheard of that everyone was on edge. Tosh was the only exception, seeming rather relaxed and using the opportunity to run system backups and test fail-safes.

Owen's irritability seemed to be at, or nearly at, his usual levels, but Gwen's typical cheerfulness had diminished after a few hours with nothing to do. Even some calls in to the police office had failed to yield anything of interest.

"You could go home and we'll contact you when something happens," Ianto suggested.

"Do I look like the sort of person who enjoys tempting Fate?" she responded with a smile and slight snort.

"I don't know; you did choose to work here," Jack put in, going for another cup of coffee.

"Hush. No, wait, don't hush - give me something to do, Jack," she begged. "There must be some case, some mystery, something to be solved or finished up."

"You could... organize files?" he suggested, glancing at Ianto.

Ianto pressed his lips into a thin line. Administrative tasks were not Gwen's strength. He'd likely have to re-do them all again after she'd finished. Besides, that's what he was doing to occupy his time, and he was nearly going mad with boredom.

"God no; I'd rather learn how to do needlepoint," she sighed. "Why don't we find somewhere new for lunch, maybe? We'll go pick it up," she said, looking at Ianto, "Get some fresh air, have a chat. Who knows, maybe something will happen along the way?"

"You two are such gossips," Jack grinned. "Sure, find us some new and interesting food, then."

Gwen and Owen got into a scuffle about Spanish tapas and their transportability, while Ianto made a list of all the restaurants within walking distance that they had never had takeaway from. After checking with Tosh and Jack and removing any places they'd been to - as well as any places he, Ianto, had eaten at - he approached the other two for their input. Owen crossed off two more restaurants, leaving a choice of six. They settled on Italian, called in their order, and he and Gwen found their coats.

Within a quarter of a mile, the two of them came to the conclusion that there was no new gossip and in fact, nothing new to discuss at all. It didn't seem possible that, with jobs like theirs, they could have a lack of conversational topics, but there it was. Awkward silence. Nothing to say.

The restaurant was inexplicably out of garlic bread.

On the way back, a lorry drove past, hitting a puddle and drenching Ianto with brackish water, shoulder to ankle. At least it hadn't got on his face, he thought, wiping away the worst of the mess with his handkerchief until they returned and he could change into the spare change of clothes he kept at the office.

Unfortunately, his backup suit was still out at the drycleaners. It was supposed to have been finished and returned to him three days ago, but the tag had been misplaced and so they had never rang to have him come pick it up. Upon further investigation, it turned out that the suit had not actually been cleaned at all, and they were very sorry, but it would be another two days. After a deep breath and lot of internal cursing, he reached for the drawer in which he kept a pair of jeans and a jumper for emergencies.

The jumper, one of his favorites, had an irate mother mouse and her brood of seven babies nesting in it. She had also chewed through the jeans and left a hole in a highly inappropriate place. Jack had suggested he wear them anyway, wiggling his eyebrows as he stuck his finger into the large opening next to the zip.

No.

Just... no.

And of course by the time Ianto gave up on finding anything to wear, suitable for business or not, his lunch? Completely cold. And Alfredo sauce microwaved up very poorly.

The afternoon crept by, with everyone's irritability skyrocketing as nothing continued to happen. Nothing Zip. Zero. Nada.

It was like there was no rift, no aliens anywhere, nothing odd or strange or even unpleasant happening anywhere.

Which was both odd and a bit disturbing in itself, but Tosh ran some tests and everyone mostly accepted that they were not in a parallel universe and all of their machines were still working correctly. It was just inexplicably quiet.

Then Ianto burned his hand rather badly on the coffeepot.

It hurt, but his eyes were watering more from the absurdity of it all. He was always so well put together, so in control, so poised. True, he had his moments (this job would make anyone lose his cool – even Jack), but still. Stumbling? Having to wear dirty and wet clothes all day? Ruined lunch? Being forced to let Gwen rearrange his files?

It was simply ridiculous.

Owen gave him a topical cream, some paracetamol, and told him to stop whinging.

Jack offered to take him home since there wasn't any good reason to hang around the Hub anyway. Gwen took off to go surprise Rhys with dinner, and Owen decided to keep Tosh company while she reconfigured the language translator.

Jack opened the door for him. He'd burned his hand, so that was all right, Ianto supposed.

Jack also took his coat. Tried to help him undress. Asked him if he wanted a glass of water.

Suggested he lie down.

Ianto scowled. "Today has been utterly horrid. If you're just going to make it worse, get out."

"Ah now, don't be like that," Jack said, sitting down next to Ianto and pulling him into an embrace.

Ianto decided to ignore the throb in his hand to pull Jack close until their lips met. A few moments of pleasant kissing passed by before he noticed something was wrong. It was sweet, tender, slow. Romantic.

And not going anywhere.

He wasn't even hard. Neither was Jack.

Ianto pressed his forehead into Jack's shoulder, feeling very sorry for himself. "Can nothing go right today?"

A chuckle vibrated in his ear. "I thought this would help you relax. Feel taken care of."

Pulling back to meet his lover's eyes, Ianto scowled. "I'm not delicate, I'm just having a crap day. Damn it, Jack, just fuck me."

"Can do," Jack grinned. He stood up, and before Ianto could do much more than squeak, he picked him up and half-carried him into the bedroom. "You were such a grouch today," he mumbled, pushing Ianto against the wall and nibbling at his neck while he undressed him. "What's got your feathers so ruffled? It has to be something more than just little things going wrong."

Ianto struggled a bit, freeing his hands, and shoved down Jack's braces and started working on the buttons of his shirt and trousers. "One or two mishaps probably wouldn't have thrown me. But I felt... clumsy. Incompetent. And I'm usually neither of those things," he shrugged.

"Definitely not," Jack agreed, turning him around and pulling down his trousers and briefs until they pooled around his ankles. "Although I do like you a little messy."

Ianto's reflection stared at him from the mirror on the back of the door. He looked... Disheveled. Flushed pinker than he'd have expected, with arousal. And a bit surprised, somehow.

"See?" Jack purred. "You're so sexy, all turned-on and unkempt and off-balance. You make me want to ravage you, in that prim little suit all day. Sometime, I'm going to fuck you while you're just wearing the waistcoat and tie..." he murmured, kissing and sucking little bites down Ianto's back.

It was a reflex that made him spread his legs apart as far as they would go before he was hobbled by his clothes. Jack was kneeling down; it was only polite to give the man some room. Ianto's eyes closed as warm breath washed over his arse, followed by the deliciously sinful, wet sensation of Jack's tongue.

He was relaxing into it, letting go of his tensions and inhibitions, opening up, when Jack slid a hand around his thigh to grab his prick. And somehow got his wristwatch caught on Ianto's pubic hairs. Just enough to make him yelp as they were ripped out.

Jack's warm hand massaged away the sting from both the hair removal and his laughter as he got to his feet. "Oops. How about we just move to the main event? I promise no one will get hurt," he grinned.

Eyes closed, Ianto felt two thick, wet fingers probe at him a moment later, opening him up carefully. When nothing went wrong, Jack added a third, probing, stretching, and teasing until Ianto was wiggling back on Jack's fingers, wanting it, needing it. Mere seconds away from begging with his mouth as much as he was with his body.

He whimpered.

"I've got you," Jack chuckled as he withdrew his hand and slid his cock inside before Ianto had a chance to complain of the emptiness. It was raw and deep and a little bit urgent, although that might have been all on Ianto's side, wishing Jack would speed up and just bloody fuck him already.

"Harder," he demanded, face pressed to the mirror.

"Nope. Not until you open your eyes."

Ianto pouted for about half a second, then opened his eyes when Jack paused mid-thrust. "Oh, don't you dare stop," he glared at Jack's reflection.

Teeth lightly scraped his ear. "Watch," Jack ordered, pressing his point with a deliberate stroke in. "This is you. Like this. Grouchy," he said. "Needy. Disheveled. Messy," nipping Ianto's neck and shoulders with each word. "All you, Ianto. Gorgeous."

Jack's hands came up to brace them against the door, looking at each other in the reflective surface. Ianto could see the flush staining his face, neck, and creeping down his chest as he let unstoppable pleasure overtake him. And Jack, behind him, eyes glinting with possessive satisfaction.

He kept them open until he came, Jack's hand working his cock, head thrown back as he shot all over the mirror. Dazed, he opened his eyes to see the fluid start to trickle down the glass, still shaking with aftershocks as Jack pounded even harder against his prostate. His hips were gripped in a bruising embrace as Jack groaned into Ianto's neck, finding his own climax.

Worn out, they leaned against the mirror, watching each other.

"I like you messy," Jack mumbled, smirking lips contradicted by the warm sincerity in his gaze.

Jack wouldn't let him clean off the mirror before they went to bed.

An hour later, Ianto lay, eyes wide open, watching the numbers change on the clock. His arse throbbed. His hand throbbed, far less pleasantly. He remembered that he'd forgotten to pick up milk for his tea in the morning.

Beside him, Jack snored.

Ianto sighed.

Some days were just like that.

~end~




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