Underneath It All….Rating:
15 for flirting, and banter.Setting:
Early Torchwood season 1.Characters:
Jack Harkness, Ianto JonesWord count:
All Torchwood stuff and staff belong to the mighty BBC. Summary:
Jack’s deepest, darkest secret is known only to one man : Ianto Jones. Crack!fic.Author's Notes:
Inspired by a late night IM conversation with Jinni.
~ + ~
It wasn’t everyday that Ianto was summoned into Jack’s office and asked for his opinion on sartorial matters. It did happen, but not that often. So, being asked late one night whether Jack’s bum looked big in the sleek black tights, came as a slight surprise to Ianto.
"What?!" Jack said defensively, misunderstanding Ianto’s frozen stare, "They're support hose."
Ianto paused, thought for a brief moment. “Sir... might I ask...?"
"If you can straighten my seams? Certainly Ianto."
Ianto pinched the brow of his nose feeling a distinct headache coming on, put down the tray of coffee and thanked God that everyone else had already gone home. He studied Jack’s outfit, as Jack turned and posed in front of the mirrored glass, tugging one side then another. His trousers lay discarded across his desk.
"Is THIS why you do so much running around, sir?" asked Ianto slowly, with a growing expression similar to that of a man having a mental light bulb moment. “Chasing all those Weevils round the streets of Cardiff, sir?”
“What? They feel good, and they’re very handy in the winter chill,” Jack added absently. “That wind comes straight in off the sea.”
“I suspected the docks would somehow be involved sir,” Ianto murmured, “Though I had believed that particular pair to be Tosh’s.”
Jack was reminded that Ianto did all the Torchwood laundry by the increasingly raised eyebrow. "Oh come on! I only put them in once!"
“Twice sir, and the second time the red ran.”
Jack paused. “Is that why my favourite shirt’s now light pink? Dammit – do you know how hard it is to get that kind of cotton these days?”
“We must all make sacrifices sir. I personally abhor that cheap brand of coffee Dr Harper insists on drinking so plentifully.”
Jack shot Ianto a suspicious look, but his face was as bland as ever. Deciding to take a different tack, he bent forward over his desk, displaying his black clad posterior. Running his hand across the tights, he looked back over his shoulder. “Look at that! Firm, well toned and the black nylon just sets it off perfectly. Now, who wouldn’t want to hit that, eh Ianto?”
“If you could just remain in that position, sir,” Ianto said and stepped forward. Jack felt one of Ianto’s hands holding him down on the desk, while the other slowly travelled up his leg straightening the seam there. Oh my, that really did feel incredibly different when someone else did it…
“I do trust there’s nothing protruding at the front, sir. I’d hate for there to be a run after all I’m putting in,” came the voice from behind him.
“Reinforced gusset,” Jack somehow managed to say calmly. Was it hot in here?
“Never doubted it in the least sir,” murmered Ianto, switching to the other leg. Jack couldn’t resist the shiver that ran through him as Ianto’s fingers ran upwards once more. And then Ianto just stepped back to by the door as if nothing had happened out of the ordinary.
Jack stretched, and stood up slowly. “I’m rather in the mood for something pretty hot, strong and wet now. Any suggestions you care to offer, Ianto?” he purred.
“Your coffee is on the tray by the door, sir,” Ianto answered. “Unless you wish me to get fresh?”
Jack’s lip twitched. “Maybe… Maybe not. Tell me, would you be interested in coming back to my place for a coffee instead?”
Ianto looked undecided.
“See my famed stopwatch collection?”
Ianto pursed his lips.
“Oh, all right,” Jack said rolling his eyes, “I’ll make the coffees.”
“You had me at stopwatch, sir. You had me at stopwatch.”