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"Served Faithfully" Torchwood fic-Tosh/Capt. John Hart NC17 Wordcount: 4845

Title: Served Faithfully
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Captain John Hart/Toshiko Sato (Includes references to Jack/John and other canon pairings.)
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 4845
Notes: Dedicated to fallen_arazil, who wanted John/Tosh and provided the prompt of Served Faithfully by Ani Difranco, kimberweeme who wanted some outerwear and kohlrimmedeye who wanted anything with John and deserves something I'm as proud of as this one. Brilliant beta provided by beta_goddess and a very helpful 2nd round by hllangel.
Spoilers through Exit Wounds. Read the rating, it gets hard-core.
LOTS OF CROSSPOSTING! (Apologies in advance) Comments and concrit are welcome.

Summary: Tosh wants something from John. What will it end up costing her?




“Hello, Tosh. I didn’t expect to see you here. Certainly not now. Boss-man isn’t going to like this, is he? Unauthorized time jaunt? Very naughty, but oh so nice.”

Toshiko let Captain John’s infatuation with the sound of his own voice keep him distracted while she got her bearings and congratulated herself on having arrived at the right time and place.

“Maybe you’ve finally figured out that you can’t trust your beloved captain. He’ll let you down every time. Believe me, I know.”

John wasn’t even trying to hide his bitterness. Tosh didn’t bother mentioning that she’d seen Jack at his calculating, manipulative worst and his protective best. No illusions one way or the other. It wasn’t her feelings about Jack Harkness that had brought her here. It was her dedication to Torchwood’s mission.

She’d tried to get the information from Jack, only to be refused with a look that said “don’t ask again.” Plan B had been Gwen. She too came back empty-handed, with the suggestion that Tosh ask Ianto, who’d shut her down with a mournful headshake. Fine, then. She was grateful to Jack, but she’d do what it took to protect the future, even if it meant a trip to the past.

“You’ve certainly dressed for the occasion. Most fetching, I must say. Anything on under that?”

She opened the coat to show him.

“Ooh! You are a pretty little thing. Too bad no-one seems to notice. Certainly not that doctor of yours. Bloody fool.”

Tosh tried not to feel flattered. This was John, after all, a compulsive liar who had left her and Owen in a warehouse to die, even if he was still very cute. The devilish charm was impossible to ignore when it was focused right on you and you’d gotten as little romantic attention as Tosh had lately. She was certainly glad to be wearing a belted leather coat over a tight-fitting, low-cut blouse and mini-skirt combination. Just right for London in June of 1967.

John had managed to find a time and place where he’d fit in perfectly. His usual outlandish garb gave him total camouflage among the beads, feathers, and vintage military regalia worn by the throngs of people surrounding them in the streets.

She twisted her body slightly, making sure that John had a chance to appreciate her legs. It wasn’t often she wore skirts this short or heels this high. Not very practical for alien hunting and hardly worth it when she worked with people who saw her as virtually sexless until her pitiful attempt at a love life nearly got them all killed.

“So what brings you here, Toshiko Sato?” he mused, pronouncing her name with the rarely-heard proper inflections. “I’d like to think it was the pleasure of my company.”

“Who says it’s not?” she replied, finding her voice and a self-confidence she rarely felt inside Torchwood, no matter how many times the word “genius” was tossed in her direction. Sometimes it’s not enough to be admired for your brains. John seemed to realise that, except of course he had to be playing her.

“Time’s a valuable commodity. You don’t want to waste it on silly games. Not this one, anyway.”

“It’s that,” she said, pointing at John’s wrist. “I want to know how it works.”

He reflexively rubbed at the strap, and nodded. His forehead furrowed into a look of concern, but at least he seemed to be taking her seriously.

“That technology won’t exist for three hundred years and the preliminary algorithms that will make it possible aren’t going to be developed for at least two hundred. I could draw you a full schematic complete with hearts and flowers and it would be like showing Einstein’s theory to Socrates. Too many steps between here and there, although if anyone can make the leap, I’m sure it’s you.”

Tosh shook her head.

“I’ve heard the lecture enough times. It’s not safe for me to actually understand how it works. I just want to put the information somewhere so Torchwood can use it in the future.”

She stopped herself from saying, “like Tommy,” even though it was a perfect metaphor. Torchwood needed to know how a Time Agent’s teleport worked, the same way they needed Tommy around to save the world, no matter how many people got hurt in the process. Jack was letting his own issues get in the way of the mission.

“Very noble. Stupid, but noble. You’ve really bought into the whole ‘protect and serve’ thing, haven’t you? Oh wait. That’s the police. So what are you offering?”

That was the John she knew and detested.

“I’ve got access to Torchwood’s bank accounts. Not like they’re exactly spending the money on salaries. I can get hold of any earthbound currency you like.”

“Don’t want your money.”

“Really?”

Everything Jack had been willing to tell her about John led Tosh to believe he was a pure mercenary, interested only in money, although Jack hadn’t been able to hide one of his dirtier smiles every time the subject came up. She knew Jack’s priorities; maybe this captain wasn’t all that different. He was still looking at her with a gaze that made her feel quite warm and not a little wet.

“Now you’re getting the picture.”

“And not liking it much.”

“It’s not prostitution if you want to do it anyway,” he pointed out matter-of-factly. “You were trying to get into my shockingly tight trousers the moment you laid eyes on me.”

“That’s quite an ego you’ve got there.”

“That ain’t all,” he leered.

She couldn’t keep from smiling, even while trying to shake her head in disapproval. He was like Jack, only a Jack who saw her as more than her technical skill. The combination was both flattering and arousing, but Tosh couldn’t just give in that easily. She had her pride, for all the good it had ever done her.

“John,” she started, without knowing precisely what came after that.

“I like when you say my name.”

“It’s not really yours is it? Anymore than Jack’s is Jack.”

“Picky, picky. You need something to scream in the throes of passion. Time Agents need covers.” He paused a moment, seemingly remembering something. “Needed. We needed names. Took ’em where we could find ’em. Especially when we were on the run together.”

Tosh stood still, hoping she might glean actual information about Jack’s past. If not his name, than some idea of what the Time Agency actually did, but whatever time and place John had gone into his mind, he managed to snap out of it before he gave anything away.

“Tell you what, Toshiko. I can’t expect you to come up to my flat right away, a nice girl like you. Why don’t I show you the sights?”

“I think I know London.”

“You don’t know this London. You spend a day with me and I’ll give you what you want.”

“A day? That’s all you’re asking?” she asked, letting the skepticism come through in her voice.

“The night would be up to you.”

He put out an arm.

“What is it with you Time Agents, anyway?” she asked, as she took it.

“Best and the brightest,” he remarked, with what sounded like a mixture of pride and regret.

London in 1967 was both familiar and different. It took a while to get used to the disorientation of not seeing things where they should be, along with the odd feeling that none of this was real, that she was in a movie with songs period clothing, that the London of 2009 was waiting to come out from behind the invisible curtain at any moment. Could it really have been this sunny and colourful and even, as she heard several times in casual conversation…”groovy”?

John seemed to be enjoying himself, but within the first hour they’d already stopped into two pubs and she’d witnessed his prodigious thirst. He seemed far more comfortable in the darkness of a bar with a drink in his hand than out in the light amongst the people.

Tosh knew that she needed to keep her guard up and periodically reminded herself that this was nothing but an assignment, even if she had done the assigning, but it was hard to remember when John was leaning on the bar, lifting a glass and looking deep into her eyes, and throwing the luvs and sweethearts around like official bribes. It had been too long since anybody took that much of an interest in her. Two painful memories. Sweet Tommy and evil, manipulative Mary. Both gone. And yet right now she hadn’t met either of them. This was the part of time travel she’d never really understand. Jack would. And John. That was what time agents did. Didn’t they?

“What exactly do time agents do?” she asked, thinking this was her best chance to ever get anything concrete about their so-elusive boss.

They’d left Picadilly and without Tosh even noticing had somehow ended up in a particularly disreputable looking section of Chelsea, presumably the one that Elvis Costello wouldn’t want to go to in about ten years, although if he waited twenty it would be completely rebuilt with sterile glass towers.

“What didn’t we do?” he replied, raising yet another pint, and shaking his head in wonder. “Hide your wives and daughters. Sons and husbands too, for that matter. Two bastards with the world at their feet and no morals to speak of. Those were great days, Tosh, great days.”

If she couldn’t get information on the agency itself, maybe she could learn something about the “partnership” that John had alluded to and Jack had grudgingly admitted, even if there was confusion about who’d been the wife.

“How’d you end up with Jack? Working with him, I mean.”

“My name is John and I’m a sex addict.”

“What?”

“Sorry. For a second there I thought I was back in rehab. I’ve told the tale enough times. I was a very desirable speaker on the galactic twelve-step circuit, let me tell you. Not every day you get a quintuple threat, but the sex share was always the big draw. Probably drove half the lads back out to get laid within five minutes.”

“I’m sure,” she said, trying not to show alarm.

“Don’t worry. I’m perfectly safe. Just a great big pussy-cat.”

Never had the phrase “pussy-cat” sounded quite so insinuating. Tosh felt her defenses melting, but within seconds, John had switched gears and was actually talking to her.

“It’s all Jack’s fault, you know?”

“I find that hard to believe.” She knew Jack’s pecadillos, but he had saved her.

“There I was,” he gestured vaguely at the sky, “minding my own business, running a nice little operation on Pollux 2, when the whole thing goes horribly pear-shaped, and the next thing you know I’m bargaining for a spot on a freighter before the law and some very nasty sorts could catch up with me, but I had to wait til morning. Being me, I tried to lie low and ended up in the middle of a donnybrook near the spaceport.”

It all sounded a bit too much like the story of the beautiful woman and the cluster-bombs, but she could feel herself getting sucked in anyway.

“I decide to hide out in the loo and that’s where I saw him.”

“Jack was in the toilet?”

”You sound surprised. Now that I think of it, wouldn’t be a shock if he was, but no, it was a holographic recruiting poster. Join the Time Agency. See the universe. Frankly, I couldn’t give a damn about seeing the universe as long as it got me off that rock, but this boy...” John took a breath, as though the memory could still shake him. “You think he’s pretty now. Back then…you can’t imagine. I took one look and I said, I’m gonna tap that. I stole the poster and marched into the recruiting office the next morning. By the time those bastards caught up with me, I had a uniform, a wrist strap and your boy as my partner.”

“What was he like?”

“Hard. He was a hard son of a bitch, Toshiko. In all sorts of ways,” he said, answering her unasked question. “I thought I liked shagging. After Jack, nothing else would ever be enough. That’s when I went downhill. When he left me. Like he’s going to leave you. All of you.”

John was getting maudlin and bitter. Tosh knew that was dangerous for both of them. They’d seen the sights and ended up near Waterloo Station where the sun was setting beautifully enough for Ray Davies to write a song about it. It was time to make a decision.

“This is beautiful,” she said, looking out at the Thames where her mind still expected to see the Eye.

“But what good is it if you’re alone? John replied, drawing her attention back toward him. He was good; she had to give him that.

But so was she, Tosh thought. Jack had told her that when he rescued her from UNIT, and she’d learned it herself over the five years she’d been working for Torchwood. She was doing this for the future, but she was doing it for herself too.

She took a step toward John, placing a hand on his chest.

“You don’t have to do this,” he reminded her. “You can go home right now and there’ll be an attachment waiting on your computer before you even have time to explain the get-up to your co-workers, if they notice.”

“I want to.”

“You deserve better.”

“Then give it to me,” she demanded, raising her head and using her free hand to pull him down into the kiss she had in fact been wanting since she first laid eyes on him. It was everything she’d thought it might be. Soft lips, and a tongue that explored her mouth as though it were a new world to be discovered.. The tang of alcohol and fingers in her hair, pulling her closer. Tosh didn’t mind that people might be staring, although she doubted the hippies would even notice. Part of her wished Owen could see them, and a very small part wished it were Owen instead. She told that part to shut up.

“Toshiko,” John murmured against her neck.

“I think I’d like to see that flat of yours now,” she said, feeling slightly breathless.

“Your wish is my command.”

For a second, she thought that he would use his wrist strap to teleport them there. Her legs felt too weak to go much further on those ridiculous high-heels, but it turned out she was stronger than she thought and she was able to make the two blocks and three flights of stairs required to arrive at the ultimate space-age bachelor pad.

The décor made Tosh blink, even as she was sinking into the softness of the black velvet bedspread. Red and black were the prominent colours, in a pattern that approximated zebra stripes. Plush throw pillows abounded, and Tosh thought she recognized a few objets d’art as near twins of artifacts recovered from the rift. She briefly wondered if she should try and get some information on them, before being distracted by the fact that John had joined her on the bed and those pesky shoes had been removed. Her feet were being kneaded by strong hands, making her with sigh with pleasure. Sighs gave ways to giggles and then gasps when John started kissing the soles of her feet and nibbling at her toes.

She felt her body tensing up, almost afraid of how much pleasure she could expect at the hands and other things of such an experienced lover.

“Relax, darling. Unless you’re having second thoughts.”

“Not a one. It’s just….”

“You don’t trust me. I’m gutted.” His voice said he was merely amused and not the least bit surprised.

“You can hardly blame me,” she said pointedly.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t demand proof.” He raised his hand with a flourish, displaying the wrist-strap that had led her here in the first place. He hit a few buttons causing a flash of light to jump from his arm to the lap-top across the room. “There you go, luv. The whole shebang’ll be waiting for you when you get back…and you can leave right now, if you’re still feeling a bit queasy about the whole thing.”

“It’s not prostitution if you really want it.”

“Touche!”

At that moment her eye was caught by something hanging, no, hovering, in the middle of the room, but definitely within viewing distance of the bed. A glowing, holographic image of, “Oh my god, it’s Jack!” A Jack so young and gorgeous it was almost painful to look at him. The language was unknown to her, but the message was clear. You never get over Jack Harkness.

“You know what I want, John? I want what you had with Jack. Whatever you’d do with him, or to him.”

He pushed a button on the strap and the poster disappeared. Then the strap came off altogether, followed by the jacket and the underlying shirt, leaving her staring at John’s torso, mapping both its muscles and its scars.

“Hah!” John’s disdain was scathing. Maybe hell had no fury, or maybe there was something more. “All he ever wanted was a flat surface and as many bodies as he could line up at one time. You, Tosh, you really do deserve more, and I promise, I’m going to give it to you.”

John picked up where he’d left off at her feet and by the time he was leaving love bites on her inner thighs, Tosh had started babbling in the ancient Japanese she hadn’t used since she studied Tale of the Genji at uni. After that things got a little vague. Lights, sounds, colours, mouths, both his and hers, pressing together tightly. A vague idea that she might have been drugged flitted by, this was the 60’s after all, but she felt so good that she laughed and went back to squirming against John’s body, feeling his heat and hardness.

She reached down to caress him, running her hands over his stomach, letting her fingers play against the striations of his abdomen. The sharp gasp spurred her on to keep going, until she’d pushed down his trousers, exposing an impressive cock made even more prominent by the lack of hair. Tosh licked her lips, feeling lewd and more desirable than she had since…never mind that. This was her time, even if it wasn’t her time at all.

“My turn,” she growled, and John rolled onto his back compliantly, allowing her free rein to kiss his chest, flick her tongue against his nipples and then do something she’d never thought herself very good at, but John was quite the appreciative recipient and the more he groaned and grew in her mouth, the more confident she felt.

Confident enough to get on top and straddle John, feeling him slide deep inside of her, while she bent down for another kiss. Hands joined as she rode him, squeezing and clenching as he thrust up, hitting her at the perfect angle, moaning against her mouth until the only thing she felt was the world spinning out of control as she came, screaming and shuddering.

Instead of giving her time to recover or relax in the post-orgasm haze, John pulled out and lay down next to her on the bed, one hand gently playing with her nipples as he traced a trail with the other through the perspiration on her body until his fingers were stroking her pussy. He licked at one earlobe, while his voice urged her onward. “What, you think I’m one of your Earth boys... lucky if they get you off once and half the time you end up faking it and having to finish yourself off in the shower after they’ve gone to sleep?”

The bastard was too right, and he sure as hell knew what he was doing with her body, making her go over the top again, nearly against her will, and she was starting to hate him for being able to do this to her. She’d had control and now she had none. Maybe this was how Jack lived his life. Such a sexual being that it sometimes seemed as though nothing else mattered.

This time he held her closely until the last shudder had rippled through her body and the sweat and tears were starting to dry. As the words of endearment, some of them obscene, some tender, started making sense again she noticed that John’s erection was pressing noticeably against her buttocks. She tried to remember if he’d gotten off along with her, before realizing that she’d been too caught up her own release to notice. That was a pleasant chance for her and impressive on John’s part whether it was amazing self control or refraction time.

No wonder he’d bragged about being a good wife. He and Jack together must have been….there was an image, and she put herself right in the middle of it, as she pressed back against John’s cock.

He let out a slight moan as he pushed back.

“You still want it like Jack.”

“Yes,” she whispered, “Like both of you at once.”

“Sweetheart!”

The delight in his voice was evident. He practically bounced off the bed to get the supplies and returned humming “All You Need Is Love,” although apparently lubricant and an extremely realistic dildo might come in handy as well.

Speaking of hands, the faux cock she was holding radiated heat and seemed to pulse slightly against her skin. Tosh had a notion that it wasn’t from this planet at any time and that left her thinking she might know the model.

“Is this…”

“Modeled from memory. You want both, you got both, and I think Jack gets the front door tonight. Never forget this night, Toshiko. I know I won’t.”

Tosh wouldn’t either, she promised herself, assuming she was able to recover from the sensory overload of “Jack” pushed deep into her cunt as she moved the dildo in and out while John reached around to massage her clit and entered her arse with infinite care and more gentleness that she would have thought him capable of until she was filled at both ends, screaming for more and giving him permission to totally let go. She matched her pace with the dildo to his and this time there was no mistaking the sound and feeling of his body achieving release as they roared into oblivion together.

“Was I drugged?” she muttered, trying to fight her way out of the haze, which she had to admit felt a bit purple.

“Nope, that was all you and me. “

“Wow!”

“I think Ovid or Shakespeare might have been a bit more profound but yeah, that’ll do. Time for you to get dressed. You may want to take a shower first. Although I would kill to see the look on Jack’s face if he recognised…but that wouldn’t be good for you. So get yourself ready to face your own world again. There’s some stuff in the cabinet that will cover the bites.”

“Bites?” She didn’t remember any bites and then she did.

The shower helped bring the reality of Torchwood and 2009 a little more clearly into focus. Jack would be furious and Owen scandalised. Gwen, maybe she could tell Gwen someday. Not Ianto though. He’d run and tell Jack, hoping that being the boss’s snitch might bring him closer to Jack’s affections. She’d recently started to understand that she was only the second most pitiful of the lot.

She came out to find John fully dressed and doing something with his wrist strap, the one she’d never truly understand but could only hope might help Torchwood protect the human race some day in the future.

“My readings say you should be popping out of here at exactly 8:30, based on rift activity and position of the planets and, oh yeah, the timer you left on your watch. Quite brilliant. It’s too bad the Agency’s gone. You’d have been amazing.”

“I am amazing,” she replied, feeling absolutely sure of it.

“Yes, Toshiko, you were, you are, and you will be.”

It was the last thing she heard before the universe broke into particles around her, and she found herself back in the Hub, standing next to the rift manipulator, trying not to look like she was doing anything suspicious there.

No one seemed to have noticed her, so she quickly went back to her work-station looking for the email with the information. There it was. Somehow John had finagled himself a email account with the British government, but the monicker “sexbomb” was a bit of a giveway.

Sorry, Tosh.. Competing loyalties. Trust me. It’s better this way.

“NO!” she screamed, banging her hands against the keyboard, trying to control the overwhelming sense of betrayal. It had to be one of John’s jokes. He couldn’t really have done this to her. Not after…only he’d done it before. There had to be another email, a hidden attachment. Something. Somewhere. She typed frantically, looking for defunct accounts that John could have hacked into. She kept going, wouldn’t give up, because if it wasn’t there then she was something much worse than a whore.

She was interrupted by a long whistle. For a second she hoped it might be Owen or Jack or even, unlikely as it seemed, Ianto.

“Look at you then. A bit retro, but very hot.”

“Hi, Gwen. Thought I’d try something different today.”

“Hope you don’t have to do any running on those heels.”

“Well, you know. I don’t get out in the field that much.”

“Jack needs you here.” Gwen broke into the grin that Tosh found most patronsing. “Being his genius and all. What would we do without Tosh? That’s what he always says.”

“Can you excuse me a second?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Bad curry,” she said, proving just how fast she could move on those heels, barely making it to the loo before she started throwing up.



Ianto sat at Tosh’s terminal long after he, Jack and Gwen had watched the video. Gwen had been so thoroughly devastated that Jack had insisted on taking her home, or wherever they’d ended up.

Tosh's files were now Torchwood property and each email needed to be archived separately. It was quite an insight into his co-worker’s life and psyche. No one ever believes that their email will be looked at, not even the woman who was a pro at hacking into anybody else’s systems, despite the best security protocols.

There was both guilt and a bit of prurient interest, especially the “personal” notes that had passed between Tosh and Owen. Poignant now, as he read between lines with the weight of knowledge. If only they’d been able to get through their own barriers before time ran out. So very unfair. He was surprised to feel his own pang of romanticism emerging, something he thought had been burned out by Lisa’s death and investing too much faith in one Jack Harkness.

Hours later, everything was filed except the “farewell” video, and he decided to indulge in masochism under the guise of thoroughness. As he pulled the file up again he caught a hidden dot at the top of the screen and clicked on it.

A new page opened with a diagram of something he recognised all too well. Jack’s wrist-strap or one just like. Ianto knew of only one other individual who had any such thing, and how the hell had he gotten into Tosh’s goodbye note?

There was another glowing icon, which produced a file in the corner of the screen.

Him. Captain John Hart. Looking just the slightest bit chagrinned.

“Hello Torchwood! If you’re seeing this then Tosh is gone and I’m sorry to hear that. She went far above the call of duty to get this information, but I couldn’t let her have it. She’s too good. Might have figured out how to make one. Now she’s gone, the rest of you can have it. Put it away for a couple hundred years and maybe it’ll do you some good someday. Don’t tell Jack, and if it is Jack watching this…” He finished by blowing at kiss before the picture faded out.

Ianto looked at the diagram again. There were at least 10 pages of calculations that came with it and none of them made the least bit of sense to him, for which he was slightly grateful.

His first instinct was to call Jack immediately. Then he remembered the time and realised that Jack could have gotten Gwen home and been back ages ago, but he hadn’t.

On second thought, there were ways to code the information so Jack would never even know where to look, but a future archivist would.

It was the least he could do for Tosh.

Tags: fanfic, jack harkness, john hart, john hart/toshiko sato, nc17, torchwood
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  • Shetland!

    Jimmy/Duncan I need to start reading fic immediately. I need to *not* start considering Yuletide possibilities. Done is done. (We started Hinterlands…

  • Yuletide 2019

    Probably my last one, unless my work schedule and priorities change drastically. Thanks to all my writers, recipients, betas and hand-holders.…

  • Self-care and self-destruction

    Private yoga lesson with my favorite teacher-CHECK! Massage that I've been promising myself since hubby broke his arm-CHECK And now I'm set up at a…