Title: Handjob
By: amuly
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Word Count: 2,605
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The evolution of the hand-holding aspect of Jack and Ianto’s relationship.
Warnings: Massive fluff, then COE -issues
A/N: This is written as an expansion of #40 from 42 RUfaS, at the request of analia_the_1st
Analia: oops. It got sad at the end, sort of. ;_; Sorry…

            The first time Jack held his hand, Ianto was so surprised he twitched violently and pulled away. They were at dinner together, and Jack had innocently covered Ianto’s hand with his own on the table. Ianto hadn’t meant to, and he wasn’t embarrassed by the display of affection: he had been waiting for such an affirmation of Jack’s feelings. And when it finally happened, he pulled away.

Immediately he regretted it – the quizzical, somewhat disappointed look on Jack’s face was heartbreaking and humiliating at the same time. If he could have, Ianto would have reached over and grabbed Jack’s hand tight and refused to let go. But after his reaction, the gesture would have seemed empty and meaningless.

            Ianto opened his mouth, to offer some sort of explanation, or apology. But Jack had already looked away, eyes hooded and false grin firmly in place. Damn it. There were a lot of things Ianto would redo (big things, enormous mistakes) and pulling away was stupid and trivial…but that little thoughtless movement was at the top of Ianto’s do-over list. Barring the invention of a time machine, Ianto resolved to hold on the next time Jack reached for him.

**

            The second time Jack held his hand, it was only for a moment. They had cornered an unknown, hostile alien in a warehouse. Jack was giving them instructions (“Gwen, Owen, circle around and block off any escape routes in the back. Tosh, you stay here, keep relaying your readings to me. If you need to change positions to get a better reading go ahead, but don’t get yourself in trouble. Ianto, you block this exit here, don’t let it back out the way it came in.”) and was preparing to go in and confront the alien himself.

            As Owen and Gwen dashed off to get into position, Ianto took a tentative step forward. “Jack…” He knew it was stupid, he knew Jack would be fine, no matter what happened. And it made sense for Jack to go in by himself. Ianto just didn’t very much like the idea of Jack dying and coming back alone, afraid, without him there to hold him.

            Jack turned to him, and upon seeing the worry written clearly across his face, smiled cockily. “I’ll be fine. Just make sure you’re safe.” That was when Jack reached out and squeezed his hand reassuringly. Then he was gone, dashing into the warehouse to save the world in that incorrigible way only Jack Harkness could. Ianto noted grimly to himself that he hadn’t squeezed back. But at least he hadn’t pulled away.

**

            It wasn’t until the third handholding attempt on Jack’s part that Ianto finally got it right. They were lying in Jack’s bunk, sweaty and sated after some abso-bloody-lutely fantastic sex. Then again, when was sex with Jack not amazing?

            Ianto was lying on his side, chest pressed up against Jack on the small bunk under Jack’s office. He had one arm and one leg draped over Jack, and was just starting to drift off to after-sex sleep. Then Jack’s hand started fumbling around until it settled on Ianto’s. Jack pulled their hands up to his chest and lay there, gripping tightly. Maybe it was post-coital laziness, or maybe it was just that Ianto was getting the hang of holding Jack’s hand after those two false starts, but he just lay there, letting Jack hold his hand and returning the pressure equally.

            Jack’s breathing was slowing, and Ianto cracked open a lazy eye to watch as their entwined hands floated up and down as Jack’s chest moved beneath them. It was…it was a good sight, their hands together like that. Ianto smiled. He felt Jack’s head turn above him, then he was mumbling, “What are you smiling about?”

            Ianto shifted further into Jack and groaned happily. “What do I have not to smile about?”

            Jack brought Ianto’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it, before letting it go. “Good answer.”

            Ianto’s hand, now free from Jack’s, started to trace lazy circles on Jack’s chest. A happy sigh bubbled its way out of Ianto’s chest, and he wondered at Jack’s handholding. It was weird, to obsess over such an innocent gesture. He and Jack had done so many more intimate things, but for some reason handholding seemed more so. Maybe it was that – Ianto glanced at Jack, as if he could read his thoughts – maybe it was the couple-y nature of handholding. Made them seem like…like they were in a relationship. Instead of just sex.

            Jack shifted sideways beneath Ianto, turning toward him. Ianto moved closer and pressed his face into the crook of Jack’s neck, breathing deeply. One of Jack’s arms wrapped around him and held him close; the other reached down between them and grabbed hold of Ianto’s hand. “I hear you thinking. Go to bed.”

            “Already in bed.”

            Ianto grinned as Jack dragged his captive hand to his mouth and nipped at his fingertips in reproach. “Go to sleep.”

            Shifting backwards slightly, toward the wall, Ianto pulled Jack with him, so that they were both secure on the small confines of the bunk. Wouldn’t do to have Jack falling off the edge of the bed in the middle of the night: Ianto would pay for it in the morning. As Jack’s breathing steadied and slowed around him, Ianto felt himself being lulled to sleep by it.

**

            The fourth time Jack held his hand was the first time the thought of timing it entered Ianto’s head. He was in the Archives, sorting through the files from 1973. For some reason, for one year only, the entire filing system changed to the most elaborate, and least useful, system imaginable. To not have the material organized at all would be far easier than the system in place for that year: at least the files would probably be together in a stack. But this…Ianto ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. This was madness.

            Jack had come up behind him then, in the midst of all that frustration. Ianto had heard his footsteps, but chose to ignore him. He was always a distraction, and Ianto didn’t need one right now. But then Jack had stopped behind him and slipped his hand into Ianto’s. The cool face of the stopwatch pressed into Ianto’s palm as Jack handed it to him. They stood there like that for a moment: holding hands, stopwatch clutched between both of theirs.

“Hey, Ianto…” Giving in, Ianto titled his head slightly to the side. Jack took that as an invitation to start kissing his neck, and leaned in, free hand circling around Ianto’s waist. “Do you want to take a break? Play with the stopwatch?”

            “Mm…” Ianto’s eyes slipped closed, and he allowed himself a moment to enjoy the sensation of Jack’s lips pressing light kisses to the side of his neck, and hand still holding his. That’s when it occurred to Ianto to start timing Jack’s handholding. It was silly, and maybe a bit romantic – oh, Jack’s tongue had slipped out between his lips and teeth grazed over a spot that Ianto adored – but it would be an interesting experiment. Just to see how long Jack would hold his hand.

            “I was thinking…” Jack’s left hand was starting to wander from its position on Ianto’s waist, and was drifting forward, ever-so-slowly… “I have to talk to a UNIT chief this afternoon, via teleconference.” Ianto’s stomach fluttered a little as Jack’s fingers nimbly started to undo his belt. “We could time him. See how long he can speak without us saying a word?” Their hands were still entwined, and Ianto didn’t want to extract his from Jack’s. But he really need to kiss Jack properly, now.

            Ianto turned around, arching an eyebrow. “Sounds like a terrible idea. They can drone on forever.”

            Jack grinned as Ianto pushed him backwards, toward a CCTV blind spot. Not that Ianto knew about those things, or had them carefully cataloged in his mind. “Oh, not forever. What do you say?”

            “How long do we have before the teleconference?”

            “Couple of hours.”

            Ianto pushed Jack to the ground and started removing his braces. “Plenty of time, then?”

**

            Ianto had lost track of how many times Jack had held his hand, and even how many times he had timed it, when Jack found him out.

            They were at Ianto’s flat, about a month after Owen and Tosh had…after John Hart and Grey had happened to Torchwood. The mood was still somber. Ianto had made Jack’s favorite dinner (filet mignon, with a side of risotto and sweet peppers) and now they were sitting on the couch, watching a late-night classic movie channel. Approximately ten minutes ago Jack had reached over and taken Ianto’s hand in his. Out of habit Ianto had started timing it, pressing the stopwatch in his pocket surreptitiously.

            Jack shifted and stretched, removing his hand from Ianto’s. As he moved to press down on the stopwatch in his pocket, Jack wrapped an arm around his shoulders. It was because of where Jack’s hand was that he noticed the movement of Ianto’s shoulder as his hand slipped into his pocket. “What are you doing?”

            Ianto blushed and tried to pull away, but Jack held him fast. His hand slipped down into Ianto’s pocket and pulled out the stopwatch. Bollocks. A grin spread across Jack’s face as he lifted it. “What, you want to play with…” He stopped. Double bollocks. He was staring intently at the stopwatch, the time on the face reading twelve minutes, fifteen seconds. Vaguely some obsessive part of Ianto’s brain noted that it wasn’t a record, while the rest of his brain was hurriedly trying to think of some sort of excuse.

            “I…it was…”

            “What were you…” Jack’s eyes narrowed as he thought. At the sudden flash of realization across his face, Ianto snatched the stopwatch back and made to get up. Jack dragged him back down to the couch. “You were timing us holding hands?”

            “Jack…” Ianto buried his ever-reddening face in his hands and groaned. This was too embarrassing. It was one thing for him and Jack to time things like masturbating, or sex, or foreplay, or even Owen dissecting that bloody pig, but handholding? Jack was going to think he was some kind of sappy woman, or worse, that he was in love with Jack.

             Ianto peaked out from between his fingers. Jack was…Jack was laughing. It had started slow, just as a chuckle low in his chest, but then it was spreading, until Jack had tears streaming down his face. Ianto looked at him cautiously, grin twitching at his own lips. Jack’s laugh had a way of being infectious. “Jack, stop. It’s not…”

            Then Ianto was pressed backward on the couch, Jack lying on top of him and kissing him, in between huffs of laughter. “Oh, Ianto, you’re…” Jack paused, nuzzling the side of his head against Ianto’s. Beneath him, Ianto sighed, running a hand up Jack’s back.

            “Sorry, I just…it occurred to me, and then I started keeping track of records, you know…”

            Jack shook his head, moving Ianto’s as he did. Then he reached up and turned Ianto’s chin with his fingers. They gazed at each other for a moment, grin on Jack’s face still there, but less mirthful, more…Ianto chose not to think the word he wanted to describe the smile with. He leaned down, and they kissed again, more languorously this time, without Jack’s laughter interrupting them. Jack’s hand came up to run through Ianto’s hair as his tongue pressed into his mouth. When he pulled back, Ianto stretched upward, looking for more contact. Jack’s hand on the side of his face stopped him. “I don’t think…” Jack paused, eyes flickering over Ianto’s face, “I think that’s the first time I’ve laughed since…”

            Ianto pulled him down again. The stopwatch fell from Ianto’s hand, and lay forgotten on the floor for the rest of the evening. 

**

            The last time Jack held Ianto’s hand, Ianto didn’t know it would be the last time. They were in his brother-in-law’s car, heading to the old Torchwood warehouse to hide out. Jack was alive, and Ianto was beside himself with relief that he had Jack back. In full Captain mode, Jack was asking for updates on the situation and barking orders (as best he could in an old pair of Rhys’ sweatpants. Undignified, that). There was a lull in the conversation, and Jack turned his head to look out the window as they sped through the streets of London. Ianto was so relieved – he didn’t realize he was staring at Jack with a stupid grin on his face until Jack turned to look at him.

            “You know, I can see your reflection in the window, just staring at me.”

            Ianto blushed, but smiled smoothly at Jack. “Thought you enjoyed the admiration of your fans.”

            Jack grinned, but it was half-hearted. That was when he reached forward and placed his hand over Ianto’s on the seat. “I told you I’d survive.”

            Ianto’s eyes softened, and he turned his hand palm up to entwine his fingers with Jack’s. For a moment the two men just stared at each other, both at a loss for words. Gwen broke the spell. “Yeah, like Ianto said, with no help from us. You best be thanking Ianto for the stunning rescue, Jack.”

            Jack’s hand tightened on Ianto’s and he leaned in, a wicked grin on his face. “Thank him? So I’m under orders to thank him?”

            “Best not keep me waiting, sir.” Then Jack was covering Ianto in the back seat, kissing him viciously. Ianto laughed into Jack’s mouth and squirmed beneath him, while Rhys was doing his best to reach into the backseat and break them up.

            “Oi, guys! Please! Save it for later: Gwen might not mind seeing you two handsome men going at it, but I’d like to keep my sanity intact.”

            “Come on, Rhys, you’ve seen worse.” Jack was still lying across Ianto in the backseat. As much as Ianto enjoyed the position, with Jack’s temporary state of distraction he was leaning too much weight onto Ianto, slowly crushing him.

            “Jack…” Ianto managed to croak out. Above him, Jack turned to look down at him. An apologetic grin crossed his face and he shifted, lifting some of his weight off of Ianto.

            “Oops. Sorry.” Jack leaned down and kissed him, one last time, before pushing himself upright. “Alright, Rhys, you happy?”

            “Like having a bunch of teenagers in the car. How do you manage to get any work done?”

            In front of him, Ianto could tell by the back of Gwen’s head that she was grinning. “Oh, they hardly get any work done. I’m the one who really runs Torchwood, they just laze around and screw all day.”

            “Oi!” Ianto tapped Gwen on the shoulder.

            “Alright, alright. So Ianto manages to escape from Jack every once in a while and get something done. But Jack? He’s just right useless.”

            Jack’s hand, still holding on to Ianto’s, squeezed lightly. “Can’t imagine why you two keep me around.”

            Ianto squeezed back affectionately. “No clue, sir.”

            Jack released Ianto’s hand and leaned forward, looking out the windshield. “Well, it looks you’re stuck with me for a little longer.”

            Ianto’s hand still felt warm on the seat as he smiled at the back of Jack’s head. In the front seat, Gwen continued speeding them toward the old Torchwood warehouse. “Well, I suppose I can deal with you for just a little longer,” Ianto conceded. Jack’s smirk was all the answer he needed.