Title: What I Found at the Warehouse (Part 2)
Summary: Jack Harkness has had a bad day but what he didn't expect was a last minute call out and a surprise when the man of his dreams Ianto Jones, literally drops into his life.
Warnings: Slight Torture mentioned, but of nudity.
Spoilers: TW season 2’s Fragments and slight Doctor Who: Army of Ghosts and Doomsday.
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or Doctor Who. But a girl can dream.
Authors Notes: I wrote this in about two and a half days so please forgive me if it’s a little disjointed. I have an idea for a sequel that I might do at a later date if anyone is interested. This is written for the Alternate Ianto Halloween Challenge on longliveianto
Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last part. ^_^
Well I went to see John Barrowman last night, which was absolutely brilliant and today I've woken up with a really bad head and oncomming flu but I'm still going to try and post all the other parts to this oneshot before tonight ends. Grins. So here's the next part.
But fortunately for Jack his reflexes, while already quick from his work with the Time Agency had been honed over his century of life. His arm was moving before he realised it, he plunged the needle into the beast’s neck before it could do more than flap its wings. It didn't get far off the ground before it came crashing back down, knocked out.
He was very lucky that the needle hadn’t broken off in the beast’s scaly hide, that skin looked pretty thick. Silently he vowed to actually develop the spray version of the tranq, that he’d been meaning to do for ages. It would certainly be a lot less hassle.
Now the only problem was hauling the beast back to the SUV and getting it in the boot, if it fit in the boot. He really hoped it did because he didn't want to deal with the problems it would cause to drive back to the hub with it strapped to the roof. Hartman would have a field day. Let alone the local police, who already didn't like him and were just looking for an excuse to arrest him. Despite the Torchwood card and his own formidable nature some of them were actually stupid enough to do it.
It took him longer than he’d care to admit to get it into the boot, but fit it in he did. He was panting slightly when he finished and he made another mental note to either start working out or order less take aways.
The drive back to the hub was occupied with thoughts of whether he could train the creature and how to go about doing just that, either way it seemed the hub had a new pet. Owen wasn’t going to be pleased.
He pulled up in his usual underground parking space and called himself all kinds of fool for sending everyone home, he could have used the help to get it into the hub. Oh well.
Deciding that the best thing to do would be to put it in a cell for the night and have Owen check it over in the morning, Jack opened the boot ... and stopped dead.
When he’d closed that door, there’d been a very large pterodactyl taking up space amongst all the crap they kept stored there. But it wasn’t there anymore. Instead Jack found himself staring at the much smaller body of a young man. A very naked young man. His face was turned away but the graceful line of his neck, the hint of a fine cheek bone and the slightness of the frame hinted at what he had been not half an hour ago. When you took in the sleek, muscled physique and the delicate fingers, it wasn’t hard to imagine the man with strong yet fragile looking wings.
Standing there staring at the man, his image being overlapped by his memory of the creature from the warehouse, it wasn’t hard to think of it as delicate. It might seem stupid but a bird’s wing, with all its feathers seemed far stronger than the thin membrane that would cover this creature’s limbs. It was obvious that the rift had brought him some sort of shapeshifter, now the only question that remained was, was this a good thing or a bad thing? He’d been looking for someone else for his team, but no one had seemed right. There was a young PC just starting out in the force but it would be several years before she was ready to be approached about Torchwood. But this creature, obviously alien could be of so much use. If he wanted to be.
And Jack reluctantly admitted to himself that he hoped the man would decide to stay. Jack hadn’t even seen his face yet but he knew it would be beautiful, he only hoped that his personality was as good as his looks.
Deciding that he should get the man somewhere warm Jack slid his hands under pale legs, marvelling at the softness of his skin but almost dropped them again when his other hand slid under the man’s neck and his face turned towards him. It was lucky for Jack that the man was still unconscious because there was no doubt he would have become uncomfortable at the look in Jack’s eyes and maybe he would have tried to run. Or fly.
Jack had known he would be beautiful, with a body like that and skin the colour of marble but he’d never expected that the reality would be so much more mesmerising. Jack was a connoisseur of beauty, he’d seen many variations throughout his life but this man laying unconscious in the boot of his car had to be the most stunning he’d ever seen. He had a strong jaw, high cheekbones and soft full lips, his hair was cut short but suited his face perfectly. The dark colour in complete contrast to the paleness of his skin. Speaking of which, his complexion was perfect, not a blemish or a mar and that went for his whole body and not just his face. Jack forced himself to look away from the heavy dusting of hair on the man’s chest and groin, he didn't think the man would appreciate being ogled if he happened to wake up.
The only thing that couldn’t be seen were his eyes and Jack wanted so badly to see them. The eyes were the windows to the soul after all.
Ignoring the urge to touch more than he should Jack bent to pick him up again, his hand subconsciously stroking the other man’s thigh. As he walked, the man’s head came to rest against his shoulder, his soft breathing ghosting over Jack’s neck. The feel of him there, the warmth of his body made Jack fantasise of the cramped bed in his quarters and waking up every morning with this man.
He stopped half way down the stairs. It had been a long time since he’d even considered something like that. He hadn’t thought about mornings like that in a very long time, not since he’d met and fallen in love with Estelle. When he’d been with her he’d forgotten for a short while that he could never have normal, or at least not for very long. He knew he’d have to leave her someday and when he’d died in that dog fight over France, he’d known it was over and ever since then he hadn’t entertained a single thought of having a life with someone. And here, now he was not only thinking about it but dreaming about it and with a man he hadn’t even spoken to yet. What was wrong with him?
He didn't take him to the cells, no instead he found himself throwing the man over his shoulder and climbing down into his bunker. He told himself it was because he wanted to talk with him and his bunker was better to stop him running than the couch in the middle of the hub. But he knew he was lying, he just wanted to see him laid out in his bed, even if it was the only time. Reluctantly he covered the man with his blanket, hiding all that perfect skin. It was cold down here and from what he knew about dinosaurs the Earth had been a lot warmer when they were around, so it was only natural to assume the same might be true for this man.
He looked good lying there, Jack admitted to himself, he looked like he belonged.
He should be waking up soon, Jack thought. Then they could get down to important matters. Like a name. He couldn’t keep calling him, him.
Jack sat beside the bed for what seemed like ages before he saw the first stirrings from the man in his bed. He shifted his legs and arched his back like he was just waking up from a long sleep.
He opened his eyes and Jack couldn’t stifle his gasp, beautiful blue eyes. Perfect.
Next part: http://vittani.livejournal.com/5875.html#cutid1