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Title: The Missus and the Ex
Author name: [livejournal.com profile] hel_bee
Pairing (s): Jack/Ianto, slight Jack/John
Summary: There’s only so much Ianto will put up with.
Rating: R/NC17
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em – unfortunately.
Warning: None
Word count: 2273
Beta: [livejournal.com profile] rakina
Spoilers: Set after 2.13. Anything aired is fair game


A/N: Written for [livejournal.com profile] creedcascade for the 2008 Stopwatch holiday fic exchange. Prompt: John has become part of the Torchwood team. Tension between Ianto and John. Jealousy and dysfunction on all sides. Ianto punching John.
Special requests/kinks: John calling Ianto "Eyecandy" and Ianto walking in on Jack/John kissing. Ianto reading or referring to Sherlock Holmes. I think I got most of it... though this is mainly from Ianto’s POV.








Ianto’s eyes narrowed dangerously as once again he felt his jealously build. He could take Jack’s flirting, he could just about cope with the ever continuing presence of Captain John Hart, but a combination of the two was not something he wished to entertain. Somehow he’d kept his stoic persona in place as he watched John lean in closer to read a report over Jack’s shoulder. There was only a limit to how long he would play these games though. If Jack thought he was someone he could toy with then he was severely mistaken. In his short life, he'd stared down Daleks and Cybermen, stood toe-to-toe with cannibals and watched as Jack took off after the Doctor – twice. He was close to the end of his tether – it wouldn’t take much more before he snapped.

John’s eyes flicked upwards, and Ianto knew he’d been seen. Smirking, John leaned closer to Jack, placing a claiming hand on his shoulder and whispering something into the other man’s ear that Ianto couldn’t hear. Jack snorted in amusement, gracing John with the kind of smile that Ianto considered should have been reserved solely for him.

“Ah, Eyecandy,” drawled John, “nice of you to join us.”

Jack started and Ianto saw a flicker of guilt pass over his features, he looked away from John and cleared his throat to cover his discomfort. Ianto walked forward and placed a stack of documents on the desk in front of Jack. “The files for the Discova Incident.”

“Brilliant, fantastic,” said Jack, overcompensating for being caught in what could have easily led to a compromising position.

“Just doing my job, sir.” Jack flinched at Ianto’s choice of words. “I’ll leave you to get on, shall I?”

John straightened up but didn’t take his hand from Jack’s shoulder. “Good idea, Jones. Me and Jack can handle this from here on in.”

“I don’t believe I was talking to you,” Ianto replied frostily, his hackles rising at John’s dismissal despite the fact he had already offered to withdraw.

This wasn’t the first time Jack had been caught between them, and Ianto didn’t care if he thought the situation was awkward. John Hart was an interloper, a replacement for Tosh, whose shoes he’d never fill. Sooner or later Jack would have to choose, and a nasty voice in Ianto's mind told him that anyone who dared to make such an ultimatum to Jack would end up the loser.

“Ianto,” said Jack, his tone appeasing, “maybe you could come back later. Dinner perhaps – my treat.”

Wordlessly, Ianto turned on his heel and left, not wanting to see either Jack’s hurt or John’s smug expression. He closed the office door silently behind him and made it to the small kitchenette before he released an exasperated sigh.

Gwen appeared at his side, and gently rubbed his arm. “Things not getting any better with John, pet?”

“It’s fine,” he replied cagily. Gwen didn’t need to hear about his petty problems, she had enough on her plate as it was.

“You need to tell Jack that this is bothering you so much. He’s as dense as the next bloke, 51st century man or not, when it comes to other people’s feelings.”

She slid her arm around his shoulders and squeezed. “Come on, love. Let me buy you a coffee. You need to get out of this place as much as the rest of us.”


*


Several hours later, in a better mood and feeling much more conciliatory towards Jack, Ianto emerged from the archives with the intention of reminding Jack of his offer of dinner. Spotting the pile of unfiled artefacts and the collection of empty coffee mugs on John’s desk, Ianto ground his teeth unconsciously. Hart didn’t even have to be in his presence to annoy him.

Pushing his disquiet to one side, he jogged up the stairs to Jack’s office, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight that affronted him. Jack had John pinned against his desk, his hands clutching possessively at Hart’s jacket, fisted in the lapels, as they kissed with a ferocity and passion that made Ianto stagger backwards.

The pain of betrayal sliced through him as John and Jack broke apart, Jack stuttering his apologies, reaching out towards Ianto, while John wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You fucking bastard!” Ianto seethed.

Jack grabbed hold of Ianto, capturing his wrists in a vain attempt to get Ianto to listen to him. “I...”

Ianto broke free and stared contemptuously at Jack. “Don’t touch me – you no longer have that right!”

“Ianto, please. It was a mistake.”

“No, Captain Harkness, it was my mistake,” Ianto said coldly, his heart pounding in his chest. “My mistake to believe I was more than just a warm body.”

“No. Never just that...”

“You’ve played me for a fool too often, Jack. It ends here.” He began to walk away, but stopped for a moment, looking at John over his shoulder. “You’re welcome to him, Hart. Though I doubt he will have the same appeal now he’s available.”



Ianto stopped only to collect his jacket on his way out of the Hub. He raced home at breakneck speeds, his foot firmly on the accelerator, not worrying about being pulled over by the police. Fortunately, he made it to his small house without attracting the attention of the local constabulary, and once inside made straight for the kitchen and a fortifying glass of malt whisky.

He heard a key turn in the lock of the front door as the last of the amber liquid burned his throat. There was no need to turn; he knew who had invaded his privacy. “Leave your key on the table on your way out.”

“Ianto...”

“Get out of my home, Jack. You’re not welcome any longer.”

“I won’t let you throw away everything we had... I can’t.”

Ianto slammed the glass tumbler down hard onto the kitchen counter, took a deep breath and counted to ten. “You won’t? You can’t?” He whirled around to face Jack. “Those aren’t your decisions to make.”

Jack raised his hands in surrender. “I know I fucked up. It was stupid, and it meant nothing. We’ve been working closely together the last few days, it reminded me of the rare few good times we had together –”

“I don’t want to hear it. I suppose I should be grateful I didn’t walk in later to finding you fucking him over your desk.”

“That wouldn’t have happened,” said Jack earnestly, and Ianto snorted in disbelief. “I’d have come to my senses... you’re far too important to risk losing over someone as meaningless to me as Hart.”

Ianto scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yet it was you pinning him to your desk, you kissing him. Don’t lie to me anymore... I’ve had enough. We’re finished – get out of my home!”

He turned away and reaching for whisky bottle, added another, larger splash of alcohol to his glass. It was only as he lifted the glass to his lips that he realised his hands were shaking and he drained the glass in one, this time ready for the burn.

Two warm hands rested on his shoulders, their weight heavier than they should have been. “Please, Ianto. I need to put this right.”

“I’m not sure you can, Jack,” Ianto replied with a sigh. “I can’t continue to do this if I feel like I mean so little to you. You say what I want to hear, but your actions tell a different tale.”

“I’ve never claimed to be a saint.”

“But I don’t want to play the martyr any longer.” Ianto closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “For once, I’m going to look out for myself. And that means you have to go.”

“Ianto...”

He shrugged off Jack’s hands and stepped out of reach before turning back to face him. “If you can’t even give me time to think, then how can you ask me to believe you when you say you want to make things right?”

“I can do thinking time,” Jack said hurriedly. “Take as long as you need, just tell me this isn’t the end.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Jack. Lock the door behind you when you go.” Ianto walked away, leaving Jack standing speechless in his kitchen.



*


To say he had slept badly would have been an understatement. He’d retired to bed, read a few pages of A Study in Scarlet, but even Arthur Conan Doyle couldn’t distract him from the battle raging in his head. At some point in the early hours he had come to realise that Jack was an obsession, and he craved Jack’s attention like an addict craved a drug. And despite his words of the evening before, Ianto wasn’t sure he was ready or willing to go cold turkey just yet. But there was something else: letting Jack go would mean that Hart had won.

As the door to the Hub rolled back, Ianto straightened his tie and drew himself up to his full height. Apart from the usual sounds of the water tower and the mainframe, the Hub seemed quiet. He quickly made his way over to the rift predictor to see if the rift would have the good grace to behave itself today.

“Good morning, Eyecandy!”

Ianto was careful to keep his features passive as John bounded down the stairs from the hothouse with his usual exuberance. “I must thank you for turning Jack away last night...”

Before he could stop himself, Ianto’s anger got the better of him, and the punch he threw in Hart’s direction not only landed on target but sent his so-called team mate sprawling to the floor. John looked up with him, his eyes sparkling with malice. He licked away the blood from his split lip. “Such passion, Eyecandy. Pity it’s not enough to keep a man like Jack interested.”

“As if you could,” sneered Ianto. “You scuttle around this place playing a part you should have retired from years ago. Following Jack around like a lovesick puppy, desperate for him to pet you.”

“What the fuck is going on?” demanded a new voice from behind them.

“Ah, Jack,” said John, getting to his feet, “I was just thanking Eyecandy here for sending you away. After all, he’s doing you a favour.”

“Shut up!” growled Jack. “I expect better of the pair of you. Brawling like kids in the playground.”

Ianto saw Jack examine him carefully, a look of confusion and hope morphing his handsome features into something quite comical to look at. “Leave us alone, John,” Jack ordered, not taking his eyes off Ianto.

“What?” demanded John. “He punched me!”

“And I dare say you did something to deserve it.”

Ianto locked eyes with Jack; he was going to stake his claim to this man. And he really didn’t care if John was there or not. “You had your chance, Hart. I suggest you go and find something to calibrate, before I show you exactly why in reality you’re no competition.”

He lunged for Jack, ignoring Hart’s protests and Jack’s rather surprised squawk as he kissed him. “I wasn’t joking, Jack. I’m going to make you mine, leaving you in no doubt about who you belong to, and removing any thoughts of anyone other than me from your mind.”

Kissing Jack forcefully, he manoeuvred them backwards until they hit the first flat surface they came to: John Hart’s desk. Jack didn’t need instruction, removing his trousers and underwear as Ianto cleared the surface of the desk with a swipe of his arm, a clatter of unknown objects striking the floor of the Hub.

“Lube?” Ianto asked, as he bit and sucked at the flesh he exposed as he unfastened Jack’s shirt.

Jack hissed in desire as Ianto teased a nipple none too carefully. “Ugh...” was his less than helpful reply.

Ianto kissed Jack fiercely one more time before moving away to look in the desk drawer, grinning in triumph as he held aloft a tube of lubricant from a supplier he favoured. He pushed Jack backwards so he sprawled across the desk, eyes wild and expectant. Ianto applied the lube liberally to his fingers and roughly prepared Jack, scissoring and finger-fucking his lover until Jack begged him ever so prettily to fuck him.

Ianto unzipped his trousers, pushing them down with his boxers to mid-thigh, and positioned the tip of his cock at Jack’s entrance. “Who do you belong to, Jack?”

“You! Please, for the love of all things holy, fuck me now!”

“My pleasure.”

Ianto pushed in, which although a well practised move, never failed to send a shiver of excitement through him. He thrust into Jack, the other man meeting him stroke for stroke as they bucked and grunted against each other. Ianto grabbed Jack by his thighs and lost himself in his lover, groaning in ecstasy as he felt Jack’s muscles spasm as he orgasmed, sending Ianto spiralling towards his own relief.

They lay there for a moment, spent and breathing heavily. And only then did Ianto hear the retreating footsteps of John Hart. “I meant it, Jack,” he said between taking gasps of air. “I don’t share well with others.”

Jack nodded dumbly, still unable to speak. He grabbed Ianto by the back of his head and kissed him passionately, the act clearly signally his understanding.

Ianto chuckled darkly as he pushed away. He pulled his trousers up, wiping himself clean with his pocket handkerchief. “Mine,” he declared with a swift kiss to Jack’s lips. “And you’d better not forget it.”


FIN



A/N: Hope you enjoyed it. Never written John before so a new departure for me :)

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