Title: Foot Massage Conversations IV: Countrycide
By: amuly
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Series: 1) Foot Massage Converstions, 2) Foot Massage Conversations Interlude: Full Body Massage, 3) Foot Massage Conversations II: Meat, 4) Foot Massage Conversations III: Origins
Word Count: 3,050
Rating: PG
Summary: Ianto and Jack try to relax after the cannibals. Also, first!kiss (sort of).
Warnings: None, small amounts of Ianto angsting, but barely any, really.
A/N: 1.] So here’s the deal with the whole “look” that Jack gives Ianto during the snogging conversation. When I first saw it, I thought the “look” was “Why are you lying; we snogged last!” But then I watched and discussed it a few more times, and it seemed reasonable that Ianto wouldn’t have remembered the kiss, so then I thought maybe it was a “Why are you spoiling the fun?” look. So in here is basically how I reconciled it in my mind.
2.] Just FYI, the FMC series is not set up in chronological order. It bounces around between Series 1, 2, and 3. But I did order it that way for a reason (kinda. Maybe.) so bear with me on this. And yeah, some of them are short, some of them are long...it's all for a reason (maybe).

            Ianto winced as he bent down. The bludgeoning he had received at the Breacon Beacons wasn’t really helping him out in his day-to-day Torchwood duties. Hissing from the pain, Ianto gritted his teeth and picked up the trash from the coffee table. He knew he should be at home, knew he should be resting and watching old Benny Hill episodes. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t go home to that empty flat that Lisa would never see, alone with his memories of the past day.

            “What are you doing here? Go home.” Ianto started at the sound of Jack’s voice, and immediately cursed his body as a fresh wave of pain from his ribs forced the air out of his lungs. The pain must have showed on his face, because in a moment Jack was there, hands ghosting over Ianto’s chest like he wasn’t sure if he should touch him or not. Jack’s hand slipped under Ianto’s suit jacket and gently pressed at his ribs. Ianto winced and tried to pull away, but Jack had wrapped a hand around his back and kept him close.

            “Have you gone home yet?”

            Ianto shrugged. “I showered, changed. But I need to write up a report on what happened out there, reorganize the archives, Tosh has a program running that I think she forgot about after…after, and so I was going to check on that for her. Owen had a body in the temporary autopsy storage that he had finished with, so I was going to move that into permanent storage in the morgue and file that away...”

            Ianto’s eyes had been darting around as he spoke to Jack, trying his best not to look him in the eyes. Jack hadn’t moved either: just stood there listening to Ianto, hand wrapped around his back and pressing lightly on his ribs. Finally Jack cut him off, raising his hand away from Ianto’s ribs to cup his face. “Hey,” Ianto’s eyes involuntarily flicked up to Jack’s at the quiet in the man’s voice. Jack didn’t do quiet. “You’re working too hard.”

            Ianto shrugged, casting his eyes down again. He was unnerved by Jack’s closeness, by how much he wanted Jack’s closeness. He cast around for something to do with himself. “You know, you saved us all, the conquering hero and all. But you didn’t get any sort of reward…” Ianto’s eyes flicked up to Jack’s again, forcing a playfulness he didn’t feel. When he saw the surprised – even eager – look in Jack’s eyes, he realized what it sounded like he was implying and quickly corrected himself. “I mean, I was thinking you deserved a victory foot rub.”

            Ianto breathed a sigh of relief. The surprise – lust? – had gone out of Jack’s eyes, and a sort of endeared amusement had replaced it. “No, Ianto, not today. You’re injured, you can barely move. You should be in a hot bath, relaxing at home.”

Ianto purposefully ignored the slight leer that had crept into Jack’s voice when he said “hot bath”. “It’s really no trouble at all, sir. I’ll be sitting down while I’m rubbing them, so it’s not like it’s all that exerting.” Jack still looked skeptical at Ianto’s proposed health. Thinking quickly, Ianto tried to figure out something else, some other argument to convince Jack to let him stay in the Hub, if only for a little while longer. Really, he was doing Jack a favor, not himself. Jack could use the comfort, the contact. You could use the comfort, and the contact.

Jack seemed to be considering Ianto carefully. Come on Jack, just leave it. “You should still go home.” Of course he wouldn’t leave it.

“I just figured I’d get some work done. With everybody taking some time off, I can actually hear my own thoughts in the Hub.” Pithy witticisms, that was the way to go with Jack.

“Ianto…”

“Jack.”

The two men stared at each other, each one refusing to back down. Finally Ianto gave in, lowering his eyes. “I’d rather stay here, sir.” Jack sucked in a breath and Ianto stepped back, remembering to dissuade Jack. “Just kind of, empty, at the flat. Nothing to do.”

Jack’s expression slipped from stern and insistent to more sympathetic. He could see Jack’s mind flitting back to Lisa as he thought. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Jack’s hands twitched, like he wanted to reach out and touch Ianto again. Ianto stayed still, waiting for a response. Finally, Jack’s face broke into a false grin. “Well, I guess tonight’s kind of a ‘Bond movie’ night anyway, what do you say?”

Ianto smiled. “I’ll get the movie, sir.” As he turned away Ianto breathed a sigh of relief. One less night he had to spend at home, alone, in his empty flat. The flat that didn’t even feel like a home, that had almost nothing personal or meaningful in it. The Hub was more a home to him now, even with all the slanted looks and worried glances from the other team members; even with all the people who didn’t ask about him or know about him or his life. Ianto glanced over at Jack, who was pulling chips, dip, and drinks out of the fridge. Was there something wrong with him, that a group of people that killed Lisa felt more like family than anyone else? That the place where she died, where he had betrayed the whole team – and Jack – was more home and personal than his flat?

“You want a beer?” Ianto nodded absently, prodding at Tosh’s display to try and get the movie started.

“Yeah, and a bottle of water, too. If you don’t mind, sir.”

Jack carried the armful of snacks and drinks back to the coffee table, grinning. “No trouble, Ianto. So long as you use those magic fingers to rub my feet, we’re even.”

Ianto nodded. “Don’t expect this to be a regular occurrence, sir. I’m just offering up my services on account of the past two days, and in honor of your heroism.” Ianto liked this. Slipping into easy banter with Jack felt good, felt secure. There were no darted looks and confused glances; no awkward pauses and almost-touches. Just witty banter among coworkers.

 Ianto managed to figure out the mess of wiring behind Tosh’s display and hook his computer up to it. He flipped through and selected his “comfort Bond” movie: The Man with Golden Gun. When he turned around, Jack had already shucked off most his clothes and stretched his body out along the couch. Ianto raised an eyebrow. “Comfortable, sir?”

Jack wiggled happily further into the couch. “I’ll be a lot more comfortable when you’re rubbing my feet.”

Ianto rolled his eyes, smirking as he made his way over to the couch. “I guess I should be grateful you’ve still got vest and trousers on. Up.”

Jack curled his feet up and Ianto lowered himself carefully down on the couch. His ribs weren’t up to quick movement yet. Sliding his eyes sideways, he noticed Jack carefully laying his feet down in his lap, rather than just dropping them in with violent energy, like Jack would normally. Gently, Jack prodded him with a foot.

“Alright sir, no need to be impatient.” Jack’s chuckle warmed Ianto’s chest. He tried not to think about why. As the opening credits rolled, Ianto set his hands to work rubbing Jack’s left foot. Jack hummed happily and shifted so that he sank even further into the couch. Ianto’s eyes flickered over to his face, which was focused on the screen. He looked…happy; relaxed. If only all my troubles fell away with something as simple as a foot massage. Ianto turned his eyes back to the movie, trying to will himself to relax, fingers pressing circles into Jack’s feet.

Ten minutes of blissful silence into the movie, Ianto saw Jack’s head swivel toward him out of the corner of his eye. A moment of silent observation, then “I think Gwen’s in shock over the whole thing.”

“Quite the shocking experience,” Ianto grumbled.

Jack shook his head. Sighing, Ianto tore his eyes away from the movie, and turned to look at Jack. “She thought it was aliens, at first.”

Ianto shrugged, digging a thumb gently into the base of Jack’s big toe. “We all thought it was aliens.”

Jack rubbed his face and looked away, eyes on the movie again. “It was almost too much for her, the shock that it was people doing this to other people.” Ianto stayed silent as Jack’s head pivoted to look at him again. Ianto bent his head down to focus on rubbing his feet. “You’re not shocked.”

 Ianto sighed, looking up at Jack. “I’m not doing this job out of some misguided sense of humanist pride, Jack. I’ve seen what people can do.” And where their hubris can lead them. As their eyes met, briefly, Ianto knew they were both thinking of Canary Whorf. Ianto broke the eye contact and looked back to the movie. His fingers absently moved over Jack’s feet, not really rubbing any more, just tracing light tracks across the bare skin.

 An uncomfortable silence fell as Ianto tried to ignore Jack’s glances out of the corner of his eye. His hands ghosted over Jack’s feet subconsciously: thumb running over the top of Jack’s big toe, finger pads sliding slowly up and down his sole. He briefly managed to sink back into focusing on the movie, but was drawn out again almost immediately by Jack’s foot prodding him. Ianto winced: Jack had pressed down on a particularly painful bruise forming by his left kidney. “You know, you didn’t sign up for any of this.” Ianto opened his mouth to protest, but Jack kept going. “Not for field work. And Tosh told me that you were brave, trying to get her out of there.”

“I wasn’t brave.” Ianto stared dead ahead. Jack hadn’t been with him and Tosh in the cellar, hadn’t seen him rant and rave against the rest of the team’s suicidal tendencies. Jack hadn’t seen him cry when that man had “tenderized” him, or when he held the cleaver to his throat, ready to slice. “I wasn’t brave,” Ianto repeated, “I just didn’t care what happened to me.”

He wasn’t looking at Jack, but he could feel him stiffen beneath his hands. After a moment Jack pulled his feet off Ianto’s lap. Ianto sighed internally. He didn’t want Jack to leave, but then again, it was entirely within Jack’s right to. He was doing this for Jack, not vice versa. He wanted Jack to…to…Ianto grumbled in his head. He didn’t know what he wanted Jack to do, how he wanted Jack to feel. No, you do know, you just don’t want to say it. You want him to care about you. Ianto shoved the thought out of his mind and resigned himself to shutting off the movie and getting some work done as soon as Jack left.

Ianto started in surprise when Jack moved to sit next to him. He put a comforting hand on Ianto’s thigh. “I care.” Ianto stiffened and stared carefully at the display screens. “I care about what happens to everyone on my team.” Ianto told himself that made him breathe easier, but he felt a little pang of sadness from the addendum. Reaching forward, Ianto grabbed his beer and took a swig from it to cover the awkward moment.

“I’m terrible company, look at me, ruining the fun again. I meant to apologize to you about that, when I brought up…” Ianto paused a moment, “when I brought up Lisa in Breacon Beacons.”

Ianto chanced a glance at Jack, who seemed more surprised than anything. “Oh, you…wait.” Jack paused and collected his thoughts, confusion evident. “Why did you think I was mad with you?”

Now it was Ianto’s turn to look confused. “You were mad at me because we were having a laugh and I had to go and be a kill joy.”

Jack shook his head slowly. “No I wasn’t.”

Ianto was incredulous. “Yes you were.” Jack shook his head again, and Ianto rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Well then what other reason did you have?”

Jack laughed then. “You don’t remember?”

“Alright Jack, now you’re just being purposefully vague.”

Jack laughed again and shook his head, turning his body to face Ianto. He gathered up one of his legs and it rested on the couch between them. “I was mad at you because I thought you were lying. Lisa wasn’t the last person you snogged.” Jack was looking much too pleased with himself for Ianto’s liking.

“Okay…what did you do Jack? Did you retcon me? You couldn’t have, I’m the one who keeps track of how much we have; I would have noticed if one went missing.”

Oh, Jack was much too happy for Ianto’s liking. This was going to end horribly. Jack scratched at his chin, mock-thoughtful. “Do you know the last person I snogged?”

Ianto shrugged. “You started talking about non-human life forms. I assumed it had something to do with a Weevil.” Jack pulled a face and laughed. Ianto laughed with him. It felt too good to laugh with Jack. “Alright sir, I give up. Who was your last snog?”

“You.”

Ianto froze, smile fading from his face. “What?”

Jack hummed. “You were my last snog. And I was yours, which is why I thought you were lying.”

“What do you mean I was your last snog? Then you did retcon me!”

Jack fumed. “No I didn’t! I figured you might remember, but I guess not. I mean, it was more CPR than a proper snog…kind of…”

Ianto blushed a deep crimson. “You mean, when Lisa…?” Jack nodded. Ianto thought back for a moment, then narrowed his eyes. “How was that CPR, you had me in your arms! Weren’t exactly doing the chest compressions properly, were you?”

            Jack widened his eyes in indignation. “Hey, I had just come back to life! There was a lot to focus on.”

            Ianto warmed up to the topic. “Well, apparently your reputation has been grossly exaggerated.” He arched an eyebrow.

            Jack grinned lewdly. “No, I think I upheld it. Well, the part about trying to shag anything, even if it’s half-dead.”

            Ianto shook his head, grinning wider. “But I don’t even remember the kiss. Must not have been very impressive; quite the let-down after all the talk of Captain Jack Harkness I used to hear at One.” A flush crept up Ianto’s neck and across his cheeks. He knew what he was asking for, what he was getting himself into. And the worst part was, he wanted it. Oh, bollocks, I want it. He wanted it too much.

             Sure enough, Jack leaned in, a grin creasing his face. Ianto breathed a shaky, deep breath, the smell of Jack’s pheromones filling him. Do I just want him because of those? Are they playing tricks with my mind? But he knew that couldn’t be true, because he thought about Jack even when he wasn’t around. Ianto pouted slightly. “It figures, I get a kiss from the famous Captain Jack, and I’m not even awake to enjoy it.”

            Jack quirked an eyebrow. They were close now, steady leaning from the both of them making it so that their lips were centimeters apart. “Would you enjoy it?”

             Ianto’s eyes flicked down to Jack’s lips. Bollocks bollocks bloody hell fucking bollocks. He would enjoy it. And it was wrong, and it was too soon after Lisa, and he was still beaten and bruised and shaking from the events early today, but…Jack’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips and Ianto’s eyes widened. Damn it. A little hesitantly, and looking away from Jack, Ianto nodded.

            The next thing he knew Jack’s lips were on him: needy, desperate, but gentle. Ianto opened his mouth and Jack’s tongue slipped in, sliding over his repetitively. He felt Jack’s hands come up to cup his face, and Ianto melted a bit into the kiss. It was just a kiss, but it made Ianto’s stomach flutter and head go dizzy. It was brilliant. Too soon, Jack broke the kiss, dragging Ianto’s lower lip out a little ways with his teeth, then going back in and pecking him on the lips once before pulling back entirely. His hands stayed on Ianto’s face, thumbs rubbing small caresses across his cheekbones.

            Ianto’s eyes snapped open, even though he wanted to keep them closed forever. Don’t want to look like I enjoyed it too much. Jack was smirking at him. Ianto narrowed his eyes, huffy. “Don’t go getting too proud of yourself, sir. I didn’t remember the first one, after all.”

            Jack’s response was to dart forward and snog Ianto viciously. Normally, Ianto wouldn’t have protested, but pain lanced through his ribs and he gasped. Jack pulled back, concern etched in his features. Ianto laughed, grimacing slightly. “Sorry, sir. Looks like your libido will have to be patient.”

            Jack grinned, but then his expression softened and he pressed his forehead against Ianto’s. “You need to go home. Get some sleep; heal up. The Hub and I’ll still be here in the morning.”

            Ianto tentatively pressed his lips to Jack. Slowly and gently they kissed, until Jack pulled away. “Go,” he mumbled against Ianto’s lips. Ianto nodded, but leaned forward for another soft kiss. He felt Jack sigh into the kiss, and his arms wrapped carefully around him. Ianto decided he could spend a long, long time kissing Jack Harkness.

            Reluctance obvious, Jack pushed Ianto away and held him at arms’-length. His sternness was somewhat belied by a thumb gently brushing over the fabric of Ianto’s shirt. “Go home, Ianto Jones. And that’s an order.”

            Standing, Ianto detangled his laptop from Tosh’s display. He made an attempt at cleaning up, but Jack was already shoving him in the direction of the Torchwood car park. “No. I’ll clean it up, for once.”

            Ianto started down the steps to the floor of the Hub, but was stopped by a gentle hand on his elbow. He turned, and Jack pressed his lips to his forehead. Ianto was startled by the gentleness of the gesture. Pulling back, Jack looked him directly in the eyes, a hand cupping his face. “You’re alright to drive yourself home?”

            Ianto nodded. He actually was. Next story in series - Foot Massage Conversations V: Jack’s Back