Fic, FAITHFUL, 17/33?: The Silent Treatment

[loveslashangst]

Story: Faithful
Author: Melinda Kitty melindakitty
Beta: the made-of-win? 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!

"So here's the Dealio..."

"I'm almost halfway done with the script I started. This is a good thing. I'm enjoying the hell out of writing this story. This is also a good thing. I have a beta who is MADE OF WIN. This is yet another good thing. [*smiles and curtseys* - O] I have loving and supportive (and sometimes vociferous) fen. This is one of the best things of all.

"You want to know who's been nice to me? Just check out my "user info" page. but for a short list of all the awesome newbies and beloved veterans, I thought I'd do a little role call. Shout out to: bandgeek01, morning_promise, butterflyborn, phdelicious, erikssiren, nanfreak, jackorono, atheneunknown, justinej, nobleroman1, aikirange1, ig_nobleigh, thrace_adams, _miss_daisy_, dwolf34, trillianastra, ishouldntreally, shengirl, ladychi, the_summoning_d, nenya_kanadka, padawanpooh, vipersweb, hloke, cowgrrl, teiira, love_jackianto, avon_09, 42footprints, bassair, daftbunny, cherrysoup888, caedesdeo, alba17, addictedtowords, dragenphly, aspiringhuman.

"Anyone I missed? You're prolly on my friends list. If you're not, feel free to friend me, I'll friend you back.I suck at doing personal acknowledgements or anything even REMOTELY resembling return reviews right now. Please know it's not just boilerplate that I LOVE the lot of you. I do this for you as much as for me. You make it worthwhile."

"And if I keep going at this pace, this story will NOT be 33 chapters.

"*drumroll*

"Wait for it.

"I'm ballparking more like fifty. Believe it or not, I haven't even gotten STARTED yet.

"So enjoy this really long chapter with all my love. MelindaKitty"

On with the show...

Sorry for such a long song, but I just didn't have the heart to cut it, 'cause the lyrics fit so well. (Gotta love the Chairman of the Board.)

"When an irresistible force
such as you
Meets an old immovable object
like me
You can bet just as sure as you live
Somethin's gotta give
Somethin's gotta give
Somethin's gotta give

"When an irrepressible smile
such as yours
Warms an old implacable heart
such as mine
Don't say no, because I insist
Somewhere, somehow, someone's gotta be kissed

"So, en garde, who knows what the fates might have in store?
From their vast mysterious sky?
I'll try hard ignorin' those lips that I adore
But how long can anyone try?

"Fight, fight, fight, fight, fight it with all of our might
Chances are some heavenly star-spangled night
We'll find out just as sure as we live
Somethin's gotta give
Somethin's gotta give
Somethin's gotta give..."

(Frank Sinatra)

(In which Ianto is at a loss for words.)



Ianto sits miserably in the back of the SUV, monitoring The Boot as Jack ordered him to. (Not that there's much to do. They have yet to encounter anything that can escape the confines of The Boot, and the Kapo still appears to be unconscious.)

Usually, he'd be delighted at the thought of getting to ride alone with Jack. They'd banter. Flirt. Use shop talk as a thin disguise to plan later liaisons. The one time, they even decided to find out how uncomfortable it'd be...? (The answer was, "quite uncomfortable"; spacious though they might be, SUVs weren't built to accommodate a back-seat shag between two men of Jack and Ianto's respective heights.)

Even so, Jack was in a much better mood then.

And how sad is it that he wishes Hart were here? Psychopath though he may be, he has such a disarming way of cutting through all the superfluous details to solve the problem without worrying about angst or blame. (Though Ianto had to laugh when Gwen kidnapped Hart, one motherly hand twisting his ear as she manoeuvred him -- him yelling "ow, ow, ow, OW!" all the way -- and insisted that he ride with her and Rhys.)

She did shoot Ianto her best "good luck" look, though. At least she's squarely on his side. (He and she always did get on as though she were the sister he always wanted instead of the often-vindictive harpies he left behind when Torchwood One recruited him.)

The SUV is freezing cold. He fights the urge to squirm. Looks out the window at the blocks and blocks of buildings and strangers that go whizzing past.

"We..." His voice sounds like badly-ground gravel. He clears his too-dry throat (too bad they used the spare bottles of water for a bit of clean-up after the last of the Weevils were loaded) and tries again. "Do we... uh... have a plan for--"

"Yes," Jack cuts him off tersely. "Of course we do." He leans hard on the "we", making it a bit of an insult. A flash of cold blue eyes in the rearview mirror. "The Hub's ventilation system is old, but efficient. Built with plenty of room for repairs and improvements."

"That's good?" (Please don't be angry with me, Jack. Please.)

"Yes." Another terse affirmative. "Means I can redirect the air from your office down to the Cells."

That's... actually a rather brilliant plan. "So if John and his pheromones are in my office..."

"Oh he's 'John' now, is he?" Another flash of cold blue in the rearview mirror.

"I mean... Captain Hart." (Please say you love me, Jack. Just say it and I will do whatever you ask of me.)

"Yes." Jack is painfully skilled at wounding with a single word. "Captain Hart." He dwells on each syllable, making the name into an epithet. "We need him, for now, and it seems that you're the man to make this whole thing work, so I need you too."

"What do you need me to do, sir?" (The kiss with Hart was wonderful, Jack, but if I lose you, I lose everything. Worse than everything. You can't even RetCon me; I've become immune. If I lose you, there is only one way for me to end the pain.)

Jack is silent a long time. Too long. He drives the SUV with singleminded efficiency. Jack can be such a flirt and a tease that Ianto often forgets this side of him: the not-quite-human. Man from another world. Another time. A stranger who can blend in with such ease that it's too easy to mistake him for just another normal person.

And when people lose their usefulness, this stranger he loves wipes their memories and throws them away.

Ianto knows all too well how skilled Jack is at manipulating the world around him into something more convenient. Hell, how many times has he helped him do it?

Shivering, he huddles down a little more in his seat, tucking the suit coat a little tighter around him. But he has to know where Jack's line is if there's any hope of salvaging this.

"Sir?" God, he sounds like a teenager again, all rasp and break. "I'll do whatever you ask me to do." (It was you, Jack. It was always you. Even before I knew what to do about it, I loved you. Kept me up nights, because how can one man love two people with his whole heart at the same time?)

Jack looks a little too long in the rearview mirror. The car beside them honks its annoyance as he wanders too close to the line. With a muffled curse in an alien language, Jack jerks the wheel and the SUV leaps back into the centre of the lane.

(Please, please, please don't hate me, Jack. I did what I had to do. I've always done what I had to do. And I understand now why you love him. But if loving him means I lose you, I will cut out the part of my heart that loves him.)

Jack says nothing. Ianto's starting to miss even the cold flash of blue in the mirror. Jack hasn't been this angry since Lisa. And that cold anger stirs his own to life.

(What would you have me do, Jack? Kill him? Kill myself for "betraying" you? I wouldn't know how to betray you. I've only ever loved you. I've only ever wanted you to love me in return. And now there's Hart. We kissed, Jack. If I'd let him, it could have been so much more, but I fought him off because I loved you. Can you say the same? How many embraces have you refused since our first shag on your desk? And when you kissed someone else, did you ever spare a thought for me?)

"Sir?" There's probably no point in fighting the tears, but what's left of his ego won't let him break down yet. He swallows hard against the painful lump in his throat, which is half pain, half anger. "Sir, please tell me what you want me to do."

"You..." Jack's voice catches on a hitch. When he speaks again, his voice is low and cold. "I think you already know."

Ianto loses the next few minutes in a blur of shock. The world wobbles around him, a place where he has no future without Jack and no future with Hart.

Blindly, he ends up in the Archives office he claimed as his own a few months back. It's outfitted with a little bed for sleeping. (Though Jack never did much care for this space, preferring instead that hellish little hidey-hole beneath his office.) The battered desk is the mate for the one in Jack's office. (Though it's likely seen much less action of the sexual variety, as Ianto mostly uses it for work.) Coat tree from his old flat. Table lamp. Little mundane things that shouldn't matter, but Ianto can't stop fixating on them.

Warm hands cup his face. Hart kisses him gently. (He's too numb to respond.) "What did Jack say to you?"

"He said..." Crumbling. His world is crumbling. Everything is crumbling.

The sympathy in Hart's eyes turns to surprise when Ianto decks him.

"Your fault," he spits. The rage uncurls from his stomach. "This is YOUR FAULT! I wish you'd never come here!"

Hart stands slowly, coolly. "Yup. Jack's a bastard when he's jealous. Likes to think nothing fazes him."

"Shut UP!" He swings again, knowing full well he'll miss. "I hate you!"

Hart dodges the next swing. Catches Ianto's wrists with a grip of iron. Crosses his arms across his chest. Holds him tightly, his back to Hart's chest.

"No, Ifan," Hart says calmly, breath warm across his ear, "You don't hate me, though it'd probably be easier for you if you did."

It feels so good to struggle. To shout. To fight him. And Hart's strong enough to take it. Even though he wants to kill him, Ianto loves him for that.

Once Ianto's fought himself to a panting standstill, Hart presses a tender kiss to his temple. "I'm going to have to kick Jack's arse later for the way he's hurt you."

And that's all it takes to destroy whatever composure he had left. Ianto sags in his arms, sobbing. "I wish you'd never come. I wish you..."

Hart soothes him. Holds him. Turns him in his arms. "Darling, I'm so sorry."

His heart feels like it might explode in his chest. "I'm not even supposed to like you."

Hart kisses his cheeks. "And you're certainly not supposed to love me."

"You can't love two people at the same time," he insists brokenly.

Hart smiles at him with grim humour. "Poor Ifan, trapped in this backwards-ass era. They don't even acknowledge that what you feel is possible, do they? And this isn't the first time this has happened, isn't it?" He pauses for a moment, lips drifting over Ianto's. "Lisa. Yes. The records say her name was Lisa."

The wound hasn't healed much over the years. "I loved her."

"I'm sure you did." A bitter laugh. "We're too much alike, you and I. I'll wager you love her still."

"I couldn't... betray her... with Jack. Not as long as she lived. Not as long as there was hope." He's clinging to Hart like he's the last sane thing in the universe. If that's not the definition of irony...

Hart leads him, gently but firmly, over to the bed. Sits him down. Sinks to a crouch before him, face to tear-streaked face. "What do you want me to do, Ifan? Right here. Right now. What would make you feel better?"

(Kiss me. Love me. Make me forget the cold anger in his eyes when he told me I'd know what to do.) "I..." He can't make himself say it.

The corner of Hart's mouth quirks. (And it's such a lovely mouth. Why does he have to be so lovely? Why can't he be ugly or awful or cruel?) "This is why I don't do plans," Hart says. "Plans might never happen. Often they don't: things always go awry, people betray you, equipment goes tits-up, so if you don't have any plans in the first place, you're not bothered. You just make it up as you go along without any illusion of control."

Hart adjusts from his crouch to a full kneel. Insinuates himself between Ianto's knees. At any other point, it would've been a blatant come-on, but this is simpler -- the need to touch and be touched.

"I love you, Ifan." It's so simple when Hart says it. "And I want to help you."

"I love you too." Why are the words so ridiculously easy with Hart, and so practically unpronounceable with Jack? "And I... I don't even understand... How did this happen?"

"Damned if I know." Hart sighs. "Truth is, you weren't supposed to be a central player. You were just the Eye Candy."

"Convenient." Again, that familiar bitterness at the back of his throat.

Hart's hand is gentle on his cheek, his gaze warming. "Too easy to underestimate," he corrects. He won't let Ianto look away. "Don't overlook that, Ifan; it's a powerful skill to have. Jack played dumb a lot -- well, sometimes he wasn't playing -- but the point is that sometimes the best strategy is to hang back and see what happens. And that's what you do; you don't let your ego ruin everything by coming in guns blazing -- not that I mind the coming part and I do enjoy the guns blazing part -- but that's not always the right move. And because you don't do anything without due consideration, when you do act, you're damn formidable and dead sexy, and all the more successful because the rest of the time you seem so sweet and shy." Hart caresses his cheek with his thumb. "And beautiful."

Ianto kisses him. Not because Jack hinted he should. Not because Hart wants him to. Not even because Gwen told him to. Because he wants to. And even as that warm, expressive mouth moves against his, even as Hart's arms welcome him into what feels -- in spite of reason and logic and even SANITY -- like home, some part of Ianto's heart is breaking, because he knows now that he's lost. If they ask him to choose, he has only one choice.

He always knew Torchwood would be the death of him.

"You're tense." Gentle fingers cup his chin. "Relax." Hart teases his mouth with little nips. "There is only now." Another brush of lips. "There is only this." A slow caress down his back. "There is only us."

And Ianto's eyes fill with a very different kind of tears, because he knows without at doubt that, as much as he loves Jack, it won't be long before he loves Hart just as deeply.

Hart traces the line of his jaw with nips and licks. "We'll sort Jack once he's had some time to cool off, Ifan. I promise."

He wants this. Jack all but told him to do this. He should just give in and stop trying to pretend he doesn't want this. "I don't... I mean... What if...?"

Hart kisses him deeply. "There is only now. There is only this. There is only us."

Sod it. Why fight anymore? "That's cheating, I'll have you know."

Hart pulls him up from the bed and into his arms. (Oh, those arms around him. Holding. Reassuring.) "I never promised to play fair."

"Fair point." And he knows what he has to do. With trembling hands, he unbuttons the suit coat.

Hart stops him before he can slide it off. "Not what *I* want," he murmurs. "What YOU want, Ifan. Is this what you want?"

His purpose and the mission come back to him. "I'm supposed to turn you on."

Eyes fierce, Hart presses his very hard cock against Ianto's hip. "I know you can't smell the pheromones because of those nasal filters, but let me assure you that my being turned on isn't going to be a problem so long as you're in the room."

A pleasant shiver shakes him at the thought.

"But that's not the point..." Then Hart pulls away slightly, eyes knowing as if he's come to a realization. "You think that's what I do: manipulate and then fuck." Hart kisses him to silence his objection. "And sometimes you would be right, but when I love someone, it's not about sex and it's not about me." The trace of a smile. "You're in a bad way right now, Ifan. Too much has been thrown at you. You've been hurt and are looking for someone, anyone, to love you all better. And as much as I would sincerely LOVE to be that person, when you and I do finally get naked together, it's going to be making love, not obeying orders."

In spite of himself, he leans into the touch as Hart strokes his hair. "So, that said, I will bet you, my lovely Ifan, that I can make you come so hard you can't stand, despite the following handicaps..." Hart pulls back. Counts on his fingers as he backs toward Ianto's desk. "1) You remain fully clothed. 2) I remain fully clothed. 3) I don't actually lay a hand on you. 4) You don't get to lay a hand on me."

He's intrigued in spite of himself. "What do I get if I win?"

Hart's grey eyes go dark with what one can only assume is anticipation. "Whatever you ask for."

The thought shouldn't send a liquid thrill through him, but it does. "And if I lose?"

Hart leans on his desk, all lean muscle from head to toe. "Whatever I ask for."

The shiver moves twice as fast, but the flutter in his throat isn't just from excitement. "You know I can't agree to that, Captain."

Hart shifts slightly, drawing Ianto's eyes back to his groin. "Yes, you can."

He forces his head to shake no. "There are things I can't and won't do."

"I know." All the flirt goes out of Hart's eyes, replaced with a sincerity that quite takes his breath away. "And I would never ask for them."

"S-so sure?" Damn this stammer.

Hart's eyes are warm and earnest. "Yes." Hart pushes off the desk. Returns to where Ianto stands, flushing hot and cold at the thought of actually giving in to...

The kiss just isn't fair. Deep and slow and impossible to deny. In spite of himself, his hands move to Hart's waist. Hard muscle beneath soft cotton.

Hart darts a quick lick across his lips as they part. "Part of loving someone is being unable to do anything that would hurt them."

Hart loves him. Really loves him. It can't be possible, but he could almost wrap himself up in this feeling...

Another gentle kiss. "If you're ready, this will be the last touch."

And as he's done so frequently since their re-acquaintance, Ianto trusts his instincts. Closes his eyes.

Hart chuckles softly. "You don't have to do that."

It feels right. "Part of loving someone is believing you can trust them."

A whisper of breath across his lips, like a phantom kiss. "I love you too."

Hart pulls away, but not so far that Ianto can't still sense the heat of his body.

"Can you still feel me?" Hart says.

He nods.

"Good." Hart circles him slowly. "Humans are fundamentally electrical. Yes, it's heat and chemical reactions and possibly even a little Divine Spark too, but mostly we run on raw electrical power. And that power has centres up and down the torso, like circuit breakers."

Hart's standing behind him now. It's hard to concentrate on anything else when the trace of heat behind him tells him just how close the man is.

"I'm not going to touch you," says Hart softly. "But if you're the Sensitive I believe you are, I won't have to."

Warmth. Starting low at his back. Pooling in his groin. He gasps, surprised.

"You feel this?" Hart's breath teases his ear.

Not trusting his voice, Ianto nods.

A satisfied chuckle. "Good."

It's not just surface-deep like a massage; this heat warms him through to his viscerals. Spreads slowly upward. He doesn't need to look to know exactly where Hart's hands are. And everywhere that slow warmth travels, all the stress unknots. Drains out of his back. Shoulders. Neck. As the heat flows over his scalp, it sends pleasant shivers down his spine. Warmth pours through him. Wakes his whole body. His balls fill. Tighten. His cock stirs in his pants. But the erection isn't painful, just patient. Anticipatory. Warm.

Confident hands flow down over his shoulders again. Not touching. Mere inches away. Warmth travels down his arms. Hands. Hart moves around to face him. Even as he keeps his eyes closed, Ianto can almost see Hart's confident heat, standing before him. Shivery intangible caresses back up his arms. Spirals that start at his shoulders and work inward until his nipples strain against their fabric prison. Hart's mouth, just a hair's breadth from his. But when he leans forward for the kiss, Hart pulls away, chuckling.

Heat moves downward again, a blissful inevitability. He feels like a Stradivarius, quivering in anticipation of the final stroke. The consummation. But Hart doesn't touch him. Doesn't kiss him. And the temptation has him breathing hard.

Heat lingers at his hips. Flows inward to his groin. Curls around his balls. Spirals up and around his cock, which presses against his zip, desperate to be touched. Panting, Ianto seeks Hart's mouth blindly.

Hart moves away. Ianto's breathing is harsh and loud in his ears. And though he longs for Hart to bring him off, he holds out as long as he can. Smiles as Hart sends shivers of heat up and down his body. A warm-cool brush of breath up the side of his neck. But it's when the hand hovers over the head of him, tickling without touching, that he finally gives in. Fumbles with his flies.

"Ifan."

"You never said," he murmurs back, "I couldn't touch myself."

A delighted chuckle. "Fair point." The heat sizzles through him. Hart's going to race him to the finish.

His cock is already dripping. It slides easily in his hand. A swirl of thumb around the glans. Hart's standing so close he can feel the heat of him. Blissful torture. He strokes himself, breathing hard. Heat and want and it's as though whatever Hart's done to him has made his whole body resonate with one single desire.

Love me.

A few more strokes and he comes so hard pinpricks of white dazzle him behind his closed eyes.

John enfolds him in an all-consuming embrace. Kisses him deeply and fully. And he can FEEL him. John's vital heat envelops him, even as John manoeuvres them to the bed. And it's a damn close thing, because even as Ianto shudders and spasms, his knees buckle. John catches him. Kisses him. Eases him to the mattress. Lays them both out. Draws Ianto's hand gently out of his pants. Suckles each finger clean.

Ianto sobs with joy and release and relief.

He loves, and is loved in return.

John's hand on his chest is equal parts reassurance and possessiveness. He gently lays Ianto's now-clean hand on the coverlet. "You really have no idea how lovely you are, do you, Ifan?"

He opens his eyes to that gorgeous blue-grey gaze. "Tell me?" he prompts between pants.

When John bends to kiss him, Ianto can taste himself on his lover's lips. "You are absolutely exquisite, darling, and I love you."

He forces his arms to work. Cups John's face in his hands. Pulls him down for a gentle kiss. "I love you too."

He could live forever in the look that follows.

John teases his mouth. Tastes him. Smiles down at him. Caresses his hair with long, strong fingers. And Ianto has the strange feeling of having two hearts -- one that's full and warm for John, and the other that's breaking for Jack.

"So serious," John teases. "Someone as young as you shouldn't have so many responsibilities."

And that's when the decision becomes easy. "You said this was about what I wanted?"

John tenses slightly, but his look is steady. "I did."

Ianto reaches down. Pulls the t-shirt over John's head. Runs his hands over the bare skin of John's chest and back. And those beautiful blue-grey eyes go dark with desire.

Ianto brushes John's lips with his. "This is what I want."

Grinning, John unbuttons Ianto's waistcoat. Ianto kisses him. Sits up so they can get him out of the suit coat, waistcoat, and button-down shirt. John begins to slide Ianto's loosened trousers over his hips. Ianto kneels up to help him. Fumbles with the button and zip on John's jeans.

"At the risk," John murmurs against his lips, "of jeopardizing what promises to be the best shag of my life, you're sure about this, Ifan?"

He slides those lovely jeans over John's even lovelier arse. "With all due respect, Captain, shut the hell up."

Laughing, John presses him back against the coverlet.

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Link to previous Faithful!Verse stories

Crossposted to jackxianto, torchwoodslash