Title: strangeness
By: cupiecake
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jack's been back a week and a half, and Ianto hasn't said a word to him.

***

Jack's been back a week and a half, and Ianto hasn't said a word to him.

He'd smiled shyly when Jack showed up in the hub - and yeah, that was a little strange. Jack swears Ianto hugged him back, too.

But; silence. Not even a, "would you like some coffee, sir?"

That's not to say he isn't getting any coffee. Ianto is just as helpful as ever; coffee appearing on his desk when he needs it, files in his inbox, dutiful official emails. Myfanwy's still getting fed, the hub is still spotless, and Owen gets knocked over the head when he orders pizza under the name "Torchwood."

He sees Ianto's smiling face when he comes into the hub in the morning, and sometimes - but less often, he does notice - when Jack heads down to his rooms for the night. (Once, he tried asking Tosh where Ianto had gone. She'd yelled, "to his class," across the hub. When he'd thought to ask her what class, she'd already gone.)

Jack worries that Ianto feels betrayed by his leaving, that this is some sort of bizarre punishment (withholding his beautiful Welsh vowels). He would worry that Ianto'd found someone new, that he didn't need Jack anymore, but - wouldn't they be talking about it? Wouldn't Ianto have at least told him that?

Wouldn't he look happier?

***

Jack's to the point where he's planning on, he doesn't know, locking down the hub or throwing Ianto against a wall... *something* that might make Ianto say something.

Then he overhears Owen talking to someone; on the phone, he assumes - either that, or Owen's started talking to *himself*, and he hopes that's not the case. It's a one-sided conversation, though.

"Is that cream I gave you helping?" and then, "it looks better, doesn't feel as stiff anymore. Still putting it on twice a day? Good." There's a brief period of silence - the other person talking, maybe? But when Owen starts talking again, he sounds - hesitant. A little awkward. "Is -How's your class going? Hey, hey, tea-boy-" he's talking to Ianto? About - "I don't understand that shite! Use the bloody whiteboard!" - What?

"Sorry, Ianto, I - no, no. I'm sorry, really. I didn't - maybe you and Tosh can teach us all some someday, yeah?" Silence. "I am sorry, you know. For - this. I should've - " Jack can hear the screech of marker against whiteboard, the click of someone jabbing a pen. Ianto's not on the phone with Owen, he's still here - still not talking. Owen keeps talking but Jack's not really listening anymore. "Thanks, Ianto. I - yeah. None of that. G'wan then, get outta here."

By the time Ianto left the room, Jack was gone.



Jack pauses by Tosh's desk, asks her if Ianto has class that night. "No," she says absently, fingers flying over the keyboard. "Tuesdays and Thursdays. Why?"

Jack's already bounding up the stairs to his office.



When the others have gone home for the night, it's just Jack and Ianto in the hub, as usual. Ianto tidies up a little, idly, automatically.

"Ianto," Jack calls from upstairs. "Can you come up to my office for a minute?" Ianto nods, tosses some trash. Heads up the stairs.

Jack doesn't know what he's doing, suddenly, now that Ianto's in his office. It all feels wrong, clumsy somehow.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, suddenly, and Ianto's mouth opens slightly, an oh of dismay and surprise. His eyes are sad, but -

Ianto gestures for something to write on, write with. Jack digs in his drawers for a notepad, a pen, and Ianto scrawls in familiar handwriting.

I didn't, he writes, and pauses, like he's trying to find words. know how, he finishes finally. Sir.

"Ianto..." Jack says softly, and Ianto almost - flinches. "Do you - not want to be here, Ianto?"

I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be, sir appears quickly on the pad. I, he starts, then crosses it out. They needed me.

"Can," Jack asks, after a minute. He swallows. "Can I see?"

***



Ianto looks at Jack sort of blankly. Sir? he writes, biting his lip.

Jack touches Ianto's shoulder, and - something changes. "Ianto, take off your shirt," he says quietly, and Ianto startles. He looks up at Jack, and then - looks away. Unties his tie carefully; slowly unbuttons his shirt so it's loose over his shoulders.

The scar is huge, and quite nasty. Ianto probably ought to be dead. Owen's mission report had talked about the hours of surgery, days worrying if he was going to survive, weeks of careful care. Right now though; it's a little terrifying. Jack finds his fingers tracing the edge unconsciously, and Ianto - Ianto's mouth falls open.

"How did it - what happened?" Jack asks softly. Ianto's scribbled down a sentence before Jack remembers to look.

There is a mission report, sir.

"I don't want a report, Ianto. I want - I need to know, I-" Ianto touches Jack's face, makes him look at his face instead of the jagged edges of scar tissue.

"Jack," Ianto mouths, fondly. Then he turns back to the paper. It was a weevil. I wasn't fast enough. Owen shot-

Jack kisses him then, and the pen falls to the floor, clatters on the floor as Ianto reaches up to tangle his hand in Jack's braces. His mouth opens hungrily under
Jack's, wet and warm and desperate, so familiar. This is why Jack came back, just for this.

Jack's reluctant to pull away, but he does. Ianto is making huffy breathy noises, his mouth moving in words he cannot vocalize. Jack has to trace the puckered pink of Ianto's throat with his mouth, feel the difference between healthy skin and scar tissue. The taste is the same; still Ianto, but the scar tissue is slick and hard under his tongue. When he traces between them Ianto's breathing goes ragged. "Ianto," Jack moans against spit-slick skin. I'm sorry, he doesn't say. I should've been there, it should've been my life at risk.

It's strange, and eerie, and heartbreaking, not to hear Ianto's voice. His breathy, "please, Jack,"s, his moans and mantras, the Welsh that spills over his lips. All he can hear is Ianto's gasps, his frantic panting.

It's enough, because it's Ianto. It's Ianto, and -

Jack doesn't finish that thought; he drops to his knees, undoes the placket of Ianto's pants. Ianto's fingers tangle in his hair, tug his face up. Ianto's eyes are sad, pleading. He shakes his head; Jack thinks, he doesn't want pity. That's why he won't talk, why he didn't tell me.

Jack pulls one of Ianto's hands to his mouth, kisses it gently. "I want to, Ianto," and Ianto smiles just a little. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want-" Jack starts, then stops. "If I didn't need you, Ianto," he whispers.

Ianto's hands cup his face, caressing his cheeks, and Jack turns his face up to grin up at him, nuzzling Ianto's cock through the thin cloth of his shorts. With his hands, Jack rubs circles with his thumbs through Ianto's pants. He kisses the fabric covering Ianto's length, openmouthed, breathing hot air on to it. Sucks at the tip until he can taste Ianto through his shorts.

At this point Ianto's hands are digging into his hair, and that's - it gets the message across where Ianto doesn't have words anymore. A sort of sexual sign language for "Jack, please," so Jack gives in, pulls Ianto's cock out of his shorts. He kisses the head lightly, then licks up and down the length of it, getting it slick. It's been a long time for both of them, Jack thinks. He reaches down with his free hand to rub at his own erection, hard and demanding attention.

"Ianto," Jack whispers against turgid flesh, before wrapping his hand around it, leaning back to look at Ianto. The Welshman's eyes are closed, color high in his cheeks. His mouth is open as he pants desperately.

The color in his cheeks, in his red, open mouth, makes the scar tissue stand out even more.

Jack slides Ianto's cock in his fist a couple times, murmuring encouragement. "God, Yan, you're so sexy, I wish you could see yourself." He struggles with his own flies one-handedly; it's awkward but a skill he's practiced at, pulling himself out and jacking himself in rhythm with his other hand. Just a few strokes, and then he leans forward again, to take Ianto's cock into his mouth. Ianto's fingers are tight in his hair, and he missed this, missed Ianto's hands and angles and taste. Missed Ianto.

Ianto's fucking his mouth and he's fucking his own fist and it's so good, it's been too long. He can feel heat fizzing up his spine, feels his balls tightening, hears Ianto panting, the long shuddering intake of breath he takes before hot spurts of come fill Jack's mouth. Ianto's shaking and he feels-

Jack pulls his mouth off Ianto's cock, too far gone to do more than bite his lip and come, spilling over his own fingers as he listens to Ianto's heavy breathing.

When he opens his eyes again Ianto's kneeling beside him, petting his face with quivering fingertips. "You..." Jack says. His tongue feels heavy and slick in his mouth. "Ianto."

Ianto smiles and kisses him.

***