Pairings: Jack/Owen, Jack/Ianto, references to others. NO SCHMOOP, NO FLUFF!
SPOILERS: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.
Notes: Joining the post-ep brigade. Thanks to the ever-so-fabulous beta_goddess for jumping back into the fray and the lovely hllangel for her speedy turnaround and helpful imput.
Summary: Jack and Owen have some unfinished business.
“A date? You asked Ianto out on a date.”
For a secret organization, Torchwood was a damn hard place to keep a secret.
Jack hadn’t intended for his invitation to be the talk of the Hub within 24 hours of issuing it. Tosh had already been around to tell him it was sweet and she approved, followed by Gwen who fixed him with her famous “penetrating” look, which might have worked on Cardiff’s lower-ranking criminals, but only made him think dirty thoughts involving the word “penetrate” and remind himself that Gwen was no longer an option for him.
That only left Owen to weigh in, unless the Weevils had an opinion. He doubted they’d look quite as sulky about it, but they wouldn’t fill out a white Henley as well either.
“This is none of your business.”
Owen’s talents included the ability to appear as though he were slouching against a wall, even when he was standing upright in the middle of Jack’s office.
“Didn’t think it was your style, Captain. Movies and dinner. Moonlight and roses. You gonna buy him a corsage?”
“You can leave now,” he ordered in his best ‘Don’t fuck with the boss’ voice, but that was never much use with this gang and none whatsoever with Owen. “Go home and nurse your wound. Or find a nurse and take her home. Just get out of here!”
He’d gone from commanding to bellowing, which meant Owen was getting to him.
“I never got a date.”
Owen’s tone hovered between petulant and threatening.
“You never wanted one.”
“Neither did you. Piece of arse on a cold night. Bit of company in the van. Someone to hold you when you have those nightmares you like to pretend don’t exist.”
“I didn’t hear any complaints. Screaming, sure. Couple of new expressions for my vocabulary, but no complaints.”
“And you won’t. Just wondering why now? It’s not like you need to seduce him. You did that about ten minutes after he walked in here.”
Jack wasn’t going to have this argument. Seducing people was what he did, and so was leaving them, which was why it drove him crazy when they left first.
“I owe him.”
“You owe all of us.”
“And I’m going to make it up to you, I promise.”
“You sure you want to use that word? Not really your strong suit, is it. Keeping promises.”
Jack found himself on his feet moving toward Owen, who managed to stand his sullen ground where bigger, smarter men had known enough to retreat.
“I ran out on all of you. It’s true, and I’m sorry, but Ianto…I took so much from him.”
“That was Torchwood, not you.”
Was there a difference any more? Even the Doctor seemed to have his doubts.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“And what about us?”
Jack didn’t think Owen was talking about the team any more, if he ever had been.
“Is there an us? I thought that pretty much ended when you took up with Susie, followed by Gwen, followed by god knows who else.”
“Well, well, who knew that Don Juan was the jealous type?”
It hadn’t been jealousy, he told himself. Just not wanting to share this time. Besides, Ianto had been a damn sight less challenging to keep in line at work and elsewhere.
He didn’t want to be sorry, he didn’t want to feel guilty and closing the book on one ex-lover was plenty for one week.
“What is it now?”
“You don’t have to go.”
“You want another report on that formula we whipped up, it’s gonna have to wait until tomorrow, because I’m…”
Jack had forgotten how much fun it was to get Owen riled up and then shut down his ranting with a kiss; how Owen’s body always tensed up at his first touch before relaxing, and how passionate the other man could be, once aroused. It was definitely coming back to him. Not as passive as Ianto, not as dangerously aggressive as John. Just right, he thought, as he re-introduced himself to Owen’s surprisingly soft lips. His cock seemed to be thinking along the same lines as it hardened against Owen’s pelvis.
He’d come back for all of them, because all of them meant something to him and right now Owen meant this kiss, hot and wet, in his office where anyone could walk in on them.
There was something about the way Ianto pronounced his name, at certain times that always made him feel he was being accused of something, even when the situation was considerably more innocent that this one.
Well, it wasn’t as though Ianto could have any illusions left about him at this point. He’d agreed to the date, knowing who Jack was, if not precisely what.
It took a few seconds to detach himself from Owen, who looked mildly shell-shocked by the whole experience, although very pleasingly flushed. Maybe he’d forgotten a few things himself, like Jack’s ability to brazen out almost anything, including Ianto Jones in all his buttoned up, well-groomed glory.
“I was wondering if you wanted me to make reservations for the…outing.”
“Date. It’s called a date, Ianto. Shouldn’t I be doing that? I am the one who asked you.”
“Yes. However, I’m the one with an up-to-date list of the maitre ds from several of Cardiff’s better eating establishments. That is, if the invitation is still open.”
Ianto’s wounded glare was aimed firmly at Owen, who responded with a shrug, a sigh, and an exasperated gesture towards Jack.
“You want him, you can have him,” he announced with an air of disgust before leaving Jack alone with Ianto and the guilt-provoking blankness that had driven him to ask for the date in the first place.
“Well?” he asked.
“Well what, sir?”
“I thought we’d finished with that stuff.”
“Do you still want me?”
Silly question, really. If he pushed Gwen a little bit, Rhys would be ancient Welsh history. Owen was still his for a song and John had been ready to go at it when he wasn’t trying to kill him. Everybody wanted Jack Harkness, so what was taking Ianto so long to answer?
“Wednesday at 8PM at Positano?”
The date was still on. He wasn’t being rejected, as if that had even been a possibility. Maybe he could tell Ianto some of his stories about Pompei.
“Look, I’m sorry you walked in on that.”
“Is it likely to happen again?”
Ianto’s face reflected the same pain Jack had seen when he told the team that he’d found his Doctor. At this rate, he’d be taking Ianto out on dates until he had to push his own employee in a wheelchair.
“Why Owen?” Ianto’s tone indicated that things were still a bit dicey among the members of his team, despite the appearance of unity they’d managed to present in the field.
Jack was a bastard, but not a lying bastard, at least not this week.
“I owe him.”