Title: Familiar

By: amy. j x

Pairing: Jack/Ianto

Rating: NC-17

Warning: AU – COE never happened

Summary: AU Jack/Ianto future fic. Ianto left Torchwood and was retconned in 2010, but what happens when he has an alien encounter 15 years later, is reunited with Jack, triggering his memories of his time at Torchwood 3?

 

***

I pull my jacket tighter around me as I continue my brisk walk. I'm surrounded by people milling around streets huddled under umbrellas, desperately trying to shield themselves from the violent downpour, a continuous flow of fat raindrops bouncing off the pavement.

I push the door open, the familiar ding above the door putting a small smile on my face, as I dry my feet on the welcome mat and enter the small establishment. The coffee shop hasn't changed in the entire 5 years I've been coming here. Apart from the odd lick of paint, or extra scatter cushion on the sofas lining the walls, it's identical. It's the only place in the world, outside of my flat, that I could easily call home.

I instantly feel warmer, the fireplace put in to good use today, and it's clearly drawing in customers, the little café far busier than it's been in months.

I reach the counter, lifting the panel and stepping behind, taking off my jacket and hanging it on the hook, revealing my deep red apron as I smile in greeting to Dave and Claire, my colleagues, who are always there with a caring smile and a shoulder to cry on, unless they're busy occupying each other's bed. They think we don't know, but despite their best efforts, it's bloody obvious.

I suppose I do occasionally feel out of place, a 40-something-year-old working in a coffee shop alongside horny students, but it pays the bills. Just.

…

I swipe the cloth over the polished oak table, the bubbles of anti-bacterial spray disappearing as I spread the liquid over the surface. The place is filled with that familiar smell of coffee beans mixed with cleaning products, and I breath it in for a second, relishing the scent.

I double check all the machines are switched off, grabbing the keys from the counter, and locking the door behind me. The streets are quieter now, the nightlife hardly buzzing at eight on a Tuesday evening, and I shove my hands deep in my pockets, heading home.

It's cold tonight, and I'm not in the mood for taking any longer than is strictly necessary to get home, so I cut through the park. The sodden grass soaks the bottoms of my dark jeans, and the wind rustling in the trees sends the slightest of chills down my spine, but I decide to ignore the common horror film clichés, and plug my headphones in, the music acting as a suitable distraction as I hurry along my way.

The headphones were a bad idea.

I didn't hear the bloody great growl behind me as some strange creature bounced on my back, knocking me to the ground with a sudden push. I lie still, shitting myself, but hopefully not showing it, as I concentrate on not opening my mouth - a mouthful of sludgy grass and mud was in the plan for the journey home. The earphones have been ripped from my ears during the struggle, but the loss of my iPod is the least of my worries right now.

I hear it's deep growls, and I try so hard to stop my hands shaking, but just as I'm about to give up hope, I hear a screeching of tyres, and an American accent shouting commands. I risk a glance behind me to see, who I'm presuming to be the owner of the voice, spraying the creature with what looks like pepper spray, but I can't be sure.

And it's then I see the creature's face. Holy fuck! I've never seen anything like it, it's teeth and long forehead are definitely not human, by the looks of things he doesn't have a nose, and his skin looks as tough and rubbery as the all in one boiler suit it's wearing.

"That's the tenth weevil this month."

Weevil?

Why does that name ring a bell?

They seem to have forgotten about me as they clamber the creature in to the back of their SUV, so I get to my feet, but that's as far as I get, because really what do you do when you've narrowly escaped being killed by an…alien?

He slams the boot shut, and I finally get a good look at his face. He's gorgeous, his features perfectly matching his smooth, sensual voice. I recognise him, but I swear I've never seen him before, obviously just one of those faces.

He catches my eye, and I can see the flicker of panic on his face, as my brain slowly puts the pieces together.

"Shit."

Shit indeed Jack Harkness.

…

I knew retcon was never one hundred percent guaranteed to work, and the slightest little thing could trigger your memories to return, but I never knew that if my memories were going to return it would take 15 years.

Of course, I don't remember everything, far from it. I can't remember anything about Torchwood, my team-mates, the aliens, the deaths, in fact the only reason I even remembered about Torchwood is because it was written on the side of the SUV. No, it was Jack I remembered. But only his face and his name.

I want to know everything, so that's why I find myself sitting in my flat, perched awkwardly on the edge of my couch as I sip steaming coffee, and try to remember.

Eventually, the silence becomes obvious, and Jack has to break it. I was expecting it, not many people can sit in silence while you stare at them and try to remember the relationship you wiped from your mind 15 years ago.

"Anything yet?"

I place my mug on the coaster situated at the corner of the coffee table, clench my hands in to fists and run them up and down my thighs. I fucking hate tension.

"Nothing."

Suddenly, without warning or any sign of what was to come, he grabs my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks, the sound of his fingers scratching my stubble as his lips crash against mine, and he pushes my lips apart with the tip of his tongue.

Despite myself, I moan into his mouth, and shift my body closer to his.

I pull back quickly. No matter the fact that I know that at one point in my life I did much more than kiss this man, something at the back of my head is telling me to stop. I must have chosen to forget that life for a reason.

He smirks, and I have sudden flashbacks of his hands running up and down my naked chest, before I blink and look back at him.

"Did that help?"

"A little."

My voice cracks as I speak, my dry throat crackling uneasily over the one simple word. "Why?"

"What?"

"Why did I choose to forget?"

He noticeably tenses, obviously trying to come up with a suitable answer that won't hurt me too much.

"Torchwood - it changes people. You didn't want that to happen to you. So, you took the retcon." He's clearly finding it difficult to say, and without even thinking it, like it's the most natural thing in the world, I reach across the gap between our bodies and take his hand in mine.

There's those flashbacks again. He's kissing me this time, slowly and tenderly, as we lie sated, naked and sweaty in bed. But it's not enough, I want to remember everything.

I want to live out these graphic flashbacks that are coursing through my mind. If Jack wasn't the reason I deleted my memories, then what's the trouble with trying again?

"I remember. Not everything, but quite a bit. I remember you touching me, kissing me, holding me. I remember us having sex, I remember the aliens, and Tosh, Gwen, Owen, Martha. Make it real Jack. Really remind me. Please."

He nods, smiling, and pushes his body towards mine, edging ever closer to me as our lips meet and he kisses me heatedly.

I press my body forwards, straddling his hips and using my entire weight to pin him to the back of the sofa. He pushes my sodden jacket from my shoulders, and I hear it hit the ground with a wet splat.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

And I am. Whatever made me want to forget, it wasn't Jack. And now all I want to do is remember.

***

His nimble fingers run up my sides, my skin quavering at his touch, I'm stunned at how such a simple touch can evoke such a reaction from me. His lips remain attached to mine as he wraps his arms around my waist, clasping his hands at my back, his tongue dancing playfully with mine as he rises to his feet and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist as, with surprisingly little difficulty he finds his way to my bedroom, kicking the door open.

He drops me on the bed, the contact our lips had kept for so long breaking for a split second, before he straddles my thighs, pinning me to the firm mattress, and kisses me again.

He pulls my t-shirt over my head, one hand going to my nipple and pinching the erect nub between finger and thumb, as his other hand reaches down to fumble with my belt buckle. All this time he's licking along my jaw line, biting my lip, kissing me with searing passion, and all I can do is lie here fascinated by his intoxicating touch, as I return his kisses and card my fingers through his hair.

Eventually I'm naked, lying under his entirely clothed form, one hundred percent at his mercy, as his fingers trail down my chest, my stomach, the trail of hair leading to my cock, and I notice for the first time his hands are trembling as much as my entire body is. He looks straight into my eyes as his hand ghosts over my cock, before skimming down my thigh and back up to my cheek, holding my face so gently in his hands I feel like crying as he kisses me tenderly.

There's something familiar about his caress on my naked skin, and that scares me almost as much as it soothes me. I hate the fact that I still don't remember everything about him, about our relationship. What were my true feelings? Why didn't I stay, no matter how much I grew to hate Torchwood, surely if I felt strongly enough about him I would have found a way to stay in his life?

I guess I'll never really know, so I commit myself to making it amazing this time round. I give myself to him completely.

My fingers shake uncontrollably as I unbutton his shirt, each shiny button popping out of the slit painfully slowly as I maintain perfect eye contact with him. When all the buttons are undone, I run my fingers over his chest, lowering my lips to his nipples, placing a kiss on each, before licking a trail up to his collarbone, pressing another gentle kiss in the hollow between his collarbone and neck.

It surprises me how natural this all feels, like I go to bed with this gorgeous man every night. I remind myself that several years ago I did.

My initial nervousness wears off, replaced by excitement and a little apprehension of what's to happen next.

I free Jack of his trousers and boxers, and now we're both naked. Kneeling on my bed facing each other directly as my heart pounds frantically, threatening to rip open my chest at any moment. He's stunning. His body is a sight t behold, every muscle perfectly crafted, his cock standing proudly before him as he smiles at me, waiting for my approval.

I nod, just once, before I reach in to kiss him again. Our lips melding together, fitting like two jigsaw pieces. Perfectly. He gently eases me back on the bed, until I'm lying flat on my back. Offering myself to him on a plate. He smiles down at me, sincerity sparkling in his eyes, as all of a sudden he's taking my cock in his mouth, kissing and licking and sucking until his jaw must ache, but he keeps going until he brings me right to the edge. Admittedly, it doesn't take very long, we've building up to this ever since he stepped foot in my apartment.

He drinks down every last drop of my cum as I lie recovering on the bed. He inches upward, one hand resting on my lower stomach as the other reaches behind me, wrapping his long fingers round my neck and kissing me, allowing me to taste myself on his tongue.

I can't remember specifically how it happens, but mere moments later he's rolling on a condom, coating himself with lube, and lifting one of my legs to his shoulder, the other immediately wraps round his waist as he pumps his fingers inside me, preparing me for what's to come. No matter how long he massages my prostate with his fingers, it won't prepare for me for what's about to happen. I vaguely remember the pain, my gasps and cries as he fully pushes into me.

But I also remember how he used to sooth me, whispering hushing sounds in my ear and taking his time with the first few thrusts.

That's exactly what he does now.

Before long I'm begging him to fuck me.

We continue in this position for some time, slowly but surely settling in to a rhythm as he thrusts, and I meet each movement of his hips, my pelvis rocking in time to his, but soon he's pulling out of me and chuckling at me confused expression.

"Don't worry, just switching."

He sits on his knees, his bum resting on his heels as he pulls me back against him, my beck meeting his chest as he pushes into me again. The sensation just, if not more overpowering, as I wrap an arm round his shoulders, lolling my head back to rest on his shoulder as I kiss him briefly.

Our moans can probably be heard down the street, but right now I'm shameless. Nothing else matters but the movement of his cock inside me, continuously hitting my prostate.

It doesn't take long until I'm crying out, coating my stomach in my sticky essence.

He cums not long after.

We collapse on the bed, Jack instantly pulling me to his side, his lips connecting with my neck as he places butterfly kisses to my sensitive skin.

"Mmm, that was amazing!"

I chuckle.

"Live up to your memories?"

"Better."

We lie in post-coital bliss for a while, his hand splayed out over my stomach.

Eventually it gets cooler, and a shiver runs through my body, so I pull the duvet up over us, snuggling closer into Jack's body, heat radiating from him.

"Thank you. For making me remember you."

"Goodnight cariad."

And just like that, I go to sleep, my dreams filled with images of pterodactyls, aliens, and a certain immortal lying in my bed.