Fic, FAITHFUL, 16/33?: The Command Performance

[loveslashangst]

Story: Faithful
Author: Melinda Kitty melindakitty
Beta: the ever-diligent ophymirage
Characters: Captain Jack Harkness, Captain John Hart, Ianto Jones
Rated: Adult for slash, bisexuality, mature content, language, violence, dire provocations, and lots and lots of sex (multiple pairings/groupings)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, 'cause if I did there would be no doubt who Jack came back for, Gwen would stick with the man who loves her, we'd have regular doses of Unexpected!John, and everyone would cheer the f*** up.
Spoilers: AU. If you haven't seen the first two series of Torchwood, you WILL be spoilered. I like to mess with canon, especially when it pisses me off. The PROLOGUE takes place right after "Countrycide" in series 1. The rest of the story, from Chapter 1 on, takes place about three weeks after "Exit Wounds", the end of Series 2.
Summary: Torchwood OT3 ZOMG! Jack/John/Ianto. The Rift is active, the Weevils are acting weird, and Captain John Hart is back in town. Let the crack-tastic smut ensue. I think there's a happily ever after in here somewhere, but until then, enjoy the insanity.
Companion fanart for this piece by the awesome love_jackianto can be found here!

Okay, so here's the dealio...

This wasn't supposed to take this long or be this long, but it all kind of fell out of my head in one long chapter. Ophymirage, ever the loyal and diligent beta, offered to do a beta on the second draft. But I was happy with this and figured all y'all had been so patient and so supportive that you deserved a little Jack/Rhys Jealous!Fisticuffs!Pr0n. So here it is, and I may have to eat my words yet AGAIN about Gwen, because the more I write her, the better I like her. And Rhys was just fun; who else besides John could get away with tweaking Jack's nose that hard?

LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! all my fantastic fen! Y'all make writing fun.

On with the show...

"If I should lose you
The stars would fall from the sky

"If I should lose you
The leaves would wither and die...

"I gave you my love
And I was living a dream

"But living would seem in vain
If I lost you."
(Richard Himber)

(In which Jack is a steamed clam, Ianto and John are a spicy number, Rhys is a bitter spoonful, and Gwen is a complete tart.)



Jack sorely regrets his moment of weakness. How stupid he was to think John might actually be grateful or repentant or even HUMAN. At least Gwen isn't here to see this; he doesn't need her amused smirk on top of everything else. She's probably still back at the SUV; when he left her, she was busily cajoling, pleading, and threatening Rhys to do her the favour that will make the rest of this plan possible.

Yeah, this is bad, because by the time Jack gets back to the football pitch with a little first aid, Ianto is all but throwing himself at the psychotic, homicidal mess of a retired assassin that is Jack's ex. Yes. That's right. After he hurries back to help, he finds his wayward employee dry-humping the man who's pretty much determined to get the lot of them killed. (And he's starting not to care how good John looks in jeans.) What makes it even worse is when that LOOK passes between the two traitors as they part.

And he'd feel much better if Ianto weren't smiling the sweet, soft smile he's only been the recipient of a handful of times. (Not until he sees his lover unguarded does it occur to him how careful Ianto is around him during the rest of the time.)

No matter that he himself was fantasizing about the three of them together last night; this is different. Ianto's crossing a line here. And the sharpness in his own voice matches the sharp sensation in his gut. "Performing a little CPR?"

Blushing, Ianto moves to get up. John's arms tighten around him. "Don't go."

The apologetic look the kid throws John makes the sharp sensation in Jack's belly turn to a slow burn. (Though it's hard to have a fit of righteous temper with a raging hard-on.)

Ohhhhhhh, but the look of gentle affection and entreaty John gives Ianto...

"Stay, Ifan," John murmurs. "Please."

And damned if Ianto isn't about to kiss the Psychopath (AGAIN!) before remembering that his lover (who also happens to be his BOSS) is standing right there having his nose rubbed into some very unprofessional contact.

Ianto gets to his feet.

As Jack opens his mouth for the thorough ass-chewing these two deserve, Gwen drives the SUV through the hole in the circle of Weevils. Pulls up. Jumps out. "Jack. Kapo. Quick. While he's still out."

She opens The Boot of the SUV. Triggers the holding fields that pretty much can contain anything short of a nuclear or quantum explosion. (Tough though the Kapo may be, no living organism has stood a chance against The Boot.)

But not even the thought of getting to use some of his nifty-cool alien tech can soften the burning in his gut. Ianto avoids his eyes as they lift the Kapo's prone form into The Boot. (Thing weighs a tonne. It's also hard to focus on righteous rage when you have to think about lifting from the legs and not the back. Fortunately, Ianto's a master of leverage.)

Gwen dives in at just the right time. Helps them dump the Kapo the rest of the way in. Secures the fields and The Boot in one smooth motion. "Rhys will be here any minute." She gives him her usual "I'm working, don't fuck with me" face. "Final count on the lorries, Jack?"

"Thirty should do it." It's not that he resents Ianto being glad John's still alive -- he's glad too -- it's just that it's not necessary for him to ENJOY John so much.

"Thirty lorries?" Ianto says. He flashes a quick amused look at Gwen. "We're going to need more RetCon."

"We have enough." Jack glares, "Get to work."

Gwen punches him in the arm. "Be nice to the boy who saved your arse."

He glares at her. "And you. Get to work."

"Well, isn't someone in a Mood?" John, who's now unscathed and just as insolent as ever, moseys over. He's covered in blood and gore and reeks like a slaughterhouse.

And his fists ache to deck him, because Ianto sneaks a look at him when he thinks Jack isn't watching.

John gives a self-deprecating grin that's only the more grating for its false humility. He gestures to his own ruined clothing. "Don't suppose any of you thought to bring stain remover?"

He thrusts the device he's been carrying into John's hand; a little rejuvenator that -- stupid him -- he thought might help. John smiles his thanks before attaching it to his forehead. His colour begins to return as the thing accelerates his body's ability to replace lost blood and nutrients.

Which will mean that when he thoroughly kicks John's ass in another minute, it'll be a fair fight.

"No stain remover." Gwen shoots Jack a questioning look. He ignores her. "But." She reaches back into the cab of the SUV and brings out towels. "These to start, fresh clothes on the seat."

This earns her a grateful smile from Ianto and a slight leer from John. "So forward, Mrs. Williams," he says. "I love it when a woman wants to see me naked."

"Knock it off, Vera." The burning spreads from his belly to his throat.

John's glare is razor-edged ice. "Vera just saved your collective asses, JACK. Or has gratitude not been invented yet?"

A self-conscious Ianto retreats behind the SUV to change.

He looms threateningly over his ex. (A very satisfying prospect, because Jack has a good two or three inches of height on him, the scrawny little terrorist.) "You have been nothing but trouble since you got here. I told you to wound and look at this." He waves an arm at the body-strewn path behind him. "It's a complete cock-up. And guess who's going to get Weevil-gut-shovelling duty."

John's glare relaxes into a knowing smirk. "It was a good kiss, wasn't it?"

He is NOT listening to this garbage. "We are not leaving until this place is spotless."

John chuckles. "Did it really turn you on that much to watch?" He strips off his shirt, unmoved. "You're only this big a dick when something's got you hot and bothered against your will."

The Weevils closest to them rise up off their haunches as if waking from a trance.

He glares at John. "If anything happens to Ianto or ANY of my people..."

John shucks off his jeans. "What? You'll shed Sensitive Man Tears while they die in your arms?"

His arm moves of its own volition. John ducks. Snatches up a towel. Towels himself off, avoiding every swing. "Oh." He dodges. "Think I hit a nerve." He waves the blood-drenched towel like a matador's cape ("OLE!") and trips Jack, who nearly ends up face first on the pitch.

Gwen catches him. "Jack. JACK!"

He's going to fucking KILL John!

John, unimpressed and still stark naked, ducks behind the SUV to retrieve fresh clothes.

"Jack." Gwen holds him hard when he tries to lunge after John. "JACK! Why are you letting him get to you? You know what he's like."

The Weevils near them give the first tentative growls. (And he is going to WIPE THE PITCH with John. Goddammit, he should've let Ianto shoot the bastard when they had the chance.)

"John?" Gwen calls.

"I'm not decent," comes the reply from behind the SUV.

"We know that." At Jack's glare, Gwen represses the smirk. "Don't suppose you have any more pheromones you could throw at these Weevils?"

"Not tonight, honey," John calls back. "I have a headache."

Ianto, now fully clothed in a fresh suit, emerges from behind the SUV. He blushes guiltily and avoids Jack's eyes. (It's not his imagination; his lover snuck another snog with his ex. God, now he'll have to kill them both.)

"What's the plan, sir?" Ianto makes a show of tucking and buttoning the suit to perfection.

"You," Gwen cuts Jack off before he has the chance to speak. "Are going to snog John a good one."

Ianto blinks. "Come again?"

"He is not going to--" Gwen's hand over his mouth muffles the rest of the sentence.

"Think with your brain and not your cock, Jack," Gwen says sternly. She looks back to Ianto. "You turn the Captain on -- both of them, come to think of it -- and we need John's pheromones to keep these Weevils from waking up and killing the lot of us. So, I want you to go snog John until I can hear the hard-on from here."

To his credit, Ianto isn't a complete traitor. The look he shoots Jack is definitely nervous. (As well it should be.) There are lots of ways to get out of this that do not involve his lover betraying him with his ex. Just because he can't think of any right now doesn't mean they don't exist.

"Nevermind about Jack, Ianto." Gwen's fingers are surprisingly strong over his mouth. "We'll sort it later."

John, now clad in yet ANOTHER pair of skin-tight jeans and a somewhat ill-fitting shirt, comes grumbling around the SUV. His eyes light up with amusement at the sight of Gwen with her hand over Jack's mouth.

"Perfect timing, Vera," says Gwen. "Ianto has something for you."

Ianto moves slowly into John's arms. John looks at him like he's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. (Not in love. They are not in love with each other. That's stupid. They hardly even know each other and they have NOTHING in common.)

He pulls Gwen's hand away. "Wait." He can't believe he's going to allow this. He must be insane. Surely there are lots of other ways to subdue a stadium of three thousand Weevils that don't involve this, but until he can think of any...

He retrieves the nasal implants from the cab of the SUV. Hands them to Ianto. "If you're going to do anything," he darts a warning glare at John, "it must be of your own free will." At least there's no need to give Gwen a pair. (Of all the people to be immune.)

Ianto takes the tiny devices. "These are...?"

"Nasal filters." Jaded amusement turns John's eyes grey. "He doesn't want me to seduce you with pheromones and rape you. As if I would. That's really less than complimentary, Jack, you know I don't do rape."

Ianto's blue eyes go dark with realization. "You had these all along, sir?"

Shit. It does make him look bad, doesn't it? "I'd forgotten about them." Which sounds lame, but is actually true.

Ianto's eyes narrow. "Of course you did. Sir." He places the inserts, one in each nostril. Sneezes a bit as they settle into place.

The first icy fingers of real fear grip Jack. "I did forget, Ianto."

But Ianto, ever the master of the Silent Treatment, turns to face John. "May I?"

John kisses him. Fierce snogs melt into a depth of emotion that Jack wishes he couldn't see. (They are NOT in love with each other. Wanting a hot shag is not the same as caring about someone.)

But he has to turn away as the two men he loves most in the world melt into a slow and sensual kiss. And, insult to injury, the Weevils around them trill in ecstasy, all traces of threat lost. Ianto's hands trace slowly up John's back.

It's not the worst day Jack's ever had, but definitely ranks up in the top ten of Random Humiliation.

Gwen sets a hand on his arm. "He still loves you, Jack. He's always loved you."

Whether or not it's true, it does little to make him feel better.

Gwen's mobile goes off. Of course it has to be Rhys, come to save the day and gloat. Jack follows, sullen and furious, as Gwen leads them back toward the entrance to coordinate with their would-be rescuers.

Maybe he can start a fight before he has to RetCon someone. That would help.

As he and Gwen direct lorries onto the pitch, Jack tries not to watch John and Ianto. The two are entwined, completely oblivious to the world. John cradles Ianto's head in his hands. Presses his body against him. And the Weevils around them, though they do move out of the way of the trucks, are just as oblivious to anything but the two traitors.

And even as anger and jealousy and betrayal burn in Jack's stomach, the first hint of the Thought occurs to him. It's an ugly Thought, and one that he wishes he could forget as soon as it surfaces.

Gwen tugs on his arm. "They're ready." He realizes that in spite of his best efforts, he's been watching Ianto and John all but rip off the fresh change of clothes Gwen brought them. The kiss goes in stages, from tender and seeking, to deep and intense, to so passionate he can't think of anything but how much he wants--

"Jack." Gwen tugs again. "They're ready."

He gives some kind of speech to the crew of about forty-five men. (Rhys was smart enough to have brought extra warm bodies.) The man himself leans on the bonnet of his lorry, arms crossed, smirking. Jack's not sure what he actually says to the crew, but whatever it is, the men nod. He's always at his most eloquent in these moments, which is cold comfort, because any minute...

"Isn't that your boy toy over there?" Rhys jerks his head at John and Ianto.

Jack retreats to his best Charming Smile. "It's a long story."

"You go for the threesome now?" Rhys presses. "Or is this just a floor show where that lunatic steals your man?"

"We need the pheromones to keep the Weevils in line." He can't keep the sharp edge from his usually calm voice.

Rhys chuckles. "I'll bet that chaps your ass."

Jack ignores him and passes out more nasal filters. (But not before one of Rhys's beefier employees, under the influence of John's pheromones, snogs Jack a good one. He's never been much into the Bear thing, but the man's actually not a bad kisser. And it gives Jack a certain perverse satisfaction after the poor worker puts in the nasal filters, realizes what he's done, and climbs into the cab of his lorry to a chorus of jeers from his mates.)

Rhys's eyes twinkle. "Now that was worth price of admission, wasn't it?"

If Jack were in a better mood, he'd smile back. As it is, he calls the first team over to begin loading Weevils. Rhys and Gwen form a perimeter with the other workers. Herd the Weevils closer and closer. The first lorry is a piece of cake -- they even manage to cram in well over the hundred guesstimate that Jack had originally figured.

And he can't help but watch John slide slow, sensual hands down Ianto's back. Curl those beautiful hands around Ianto's hips. Rub gently but insistently. Ianto shivers in John's arms, melting against him with blissful enthusiasm that definitely doesn't look like he's just taking one for the team.

"Enjoying the view?" says Rhys.

"Not really." Much as he'd love to pick a fight with Rhys, Gwen will make his life miserable if he does.

"I didn't mean that view." Rhys hauls another Weevil closer. "Buggery weird things, these are. I meant the view of your feet."

What the fuck is he talking about? As if Jack needs to be more annoyed than he already is. He ignores him as two more blokes, both giggling, crowd a few more Weevils onto the lorry.

Rhys slams the door closed. Pounds a rhythm on it to signal the driver. "I think you'll find on closer inspection, Captain Harkness, that your shoe is on the other foot."

He can't deck Rhys. Gwen will kill him. "It's been a long damn day, Rhys. Don't start something you can't finish."

"Oh no, no, no, Mister Jack Sir." Rhys directs in the next lorry. "I don't believe you get to treat me like the wayward errand boy." At his gesture, the other lads open up the back of the lorry and herd Weevils in. "Instead, I believe you'll find that by day's end, you're going to owe me a rather large favour."

And there's nothing to say to that, because Rhys is right.

Rhys stands between him and the Weevil he was herding. "What? I give you an opening like that and you don't even make a pass?" He chuckles. "Don't tell me you fancy yourself in love with that pretty little thing over there?"

He dodges around the large man. Helps the boys slam the door shut on the freshly-loaded lorry. Knocks the right rhythm to signal the driver.

"Or," says Rhys's murmur in his ear. "Are you just sulking because your lovely little butler don't want you no more?"

That's IT! The first punch connects with a satisfying smack. Rhys, grinning, sheds his vest and lands a punch that makes Jack see stars. (And makes him feel a helluva lot better.) The next few moments are a blur of fists and dodges and shouts of fury. He's wanted to kick Rhys's ass since he met him, and -- judging by the sheer joy with which Rhys engages him -- the feeling is mutual.

To make matters even more satisfying, he's half-aware of shouts of encouragement as the boys form a ring around them. With any luck, a few hundred quid will change hands, he'll RetCon the lot of them, and he'll take himself to dinner on the winnings.

When Gwen dodges between them, Jack nearly sprains something as he pulls the punch. "What the HELL are you doing!"

"Get out of my way, Gwen." He's not going to miss the chance to blacken Rhys's other eye.

"Go sit in the SUV," Gwen commands.

He glares at her. "I don't take orders from--"

She slaps him. Hard. He's too startled to respond as she stands toe-to-toe with him. "You're a bloody selfish man, you are, Jack Harkness. We are hip-deep in the middle of twenty-five HUNDRED Weevils and all you can think to do is pick a fight with my husband? So your pride's bruised to have your lover snog another man in front of a bunch of blokes. So what? They won't remember anyway."

"I'll remember," says Rhys with a grin. He wipes the blood from his fattening lip.

"Shut up, you," says Gwen fiercely. "And get back to work before I thrash you myself."

"As if you could." But Rhys does go back to directing traffic and loading lorries.

"I don't need your help, Gwen." Even as the cut in his own lip closes, the taste of blood only makes him long to go after John.

"I think you do." Her glare is unrepentant. "If those two," she waves a hand at John and Ianto, who resume their kiss as though they haven't been watching, "can make this loading process go more smoothly so we don't lose any Weevils or risk any civilian casualties, I'm going to make sure you sit in the cab until you stop sulking like a two-year-old who’s lost his favourite toy and my GOD are you the hypocrite to deny Ianto the right to snog someone else."

"This isn't about me." But even as he objects, he knows he's going to lose this fight.

"That's right," Gwen agrees. "High time you learnt that."

Somewhere behind her, Rhys chuckles.

"Oh do shut UP, Rhys," Gwen says.

"Sorry, Gwen," Rhys replies. Jack doesn't need to look at him to know he's still smirking.

He glances once more at Ianto and John. They fit so perfectly. Ianto's not even trying to hide his arousal anymore. (If he let himself, he could probably smell it from here.) John is more tender and loving in the kiss than Jack would ever have given him credit for. And the burning in his gut begins to be replaced by an ache in his heart as the Thought occurs to him again.

"He still loves you," says Gwen softly. "We'll sort it later. Go sit in the SUV. Cool your head. Take some time. We'll manage."

As he forlornly heads for the relative privacy of the SUV, Jack finds himself wavering between laughter and tears as he entertains the Thought that Ianto might well be better off in the arms of the man Jack left at the altar, so many years ago.

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Link to previous Faithful!Verse stories

Crossposted to jackxianto, torchwoodslash