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The Phantom of the Hub
Fandom: Torchwood (shock horror!)
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Word Count: 1134
Summary: Jack gets all his best ideas from films...
Prompt: Jantolution Challenge #7, Prompt - Mystery.
A/N: Spoilers for Phantom of the Opera...
The Phantom of the Hub
Jack stretched out one hand without looking, eyes fixed on the TV screen as he fished for a Malteser in the pot Ianto was holding, then brought his prize back to his mouth, chin resting on his other hand, lying stretched out on Ianto’s sofa with one leg crooked up behind Ianto (being leant on heavily now, since Ianto had settled down comfortably at the beginning of the film and not moved since) and the other across Ianto’s lap, putting up with the pot of Maltesers being rested on his knee.
He ate the Malteser, barely tasting it, utterly fascinated with the film Ianto had chosen. Now there were candelabras (surely the plural should be candelabrae, really. Latin root and all that) rising from the pool, candles sparking into life the moment they touched the air. He’d seen a similar thing once, back on Maaratta Three. It had been pretty impressive then, but with the added zest of a couple on a boat, an underground lair, and a portcullis sealing them off from the world as they floated towards the shore, it was positively inspiring.
Breaking away from the film for a second, he shot a glance at Ianto, who smiled at him briefly and then returned his attention to the television, where the Phantom was busily serenading his kidnapped singer.
Jack snuck another Malteser from the pot, licking the chocolate from his fingers thoughtfully, and went back to watching the film.
He remained engrossed until near the end, when the Phantom, Raoul and Christine were all competing in song, and the whole plot had become entangled in one big mixture of love and deceit and anger. Jack had long since forgotten about the Maltesers, but dragged himself away from the film for a few moments when Ianto shifted against his legs. Looking over at him, Jack saw him turn away a little and subtly raise a hand to his eyes.
“You alright?” Jack asked quietly, and Ianto nodded.
“Something in my eye,” he muttered, and Jack sat up a little, reaching out to Ianto’s shoulder and saying, “Let me see.”
“No, it’s fine,” Ianto said quickly, swiftly rubbing his eyes and shooting a smile at Jack to prove it.
Jack smiled back, resisted the urge to kiss him, and returned to lounging on the sofa, propping his chin on his hand and getting back to the film just in time for the grand finish.
And the thoughtful smile that was on his face stayed there all the way through until the end credits, when Ianto put aside the still-unfinished Maltesers and proceeded to show Jack just how much he appreciated spending some time relaxing with him.
~*~
“Seen Jack today?” Owen asked Ianto when he brought the others their first coffee of the day.
“Not since we arrived,” Ianto told him, ignoring Owen rolling his eyes at the implication that Jack had spent the night at Ianto’s flat with the ease of practice. “I’m sure he’s around somewhere,” he added, and at that Owen snorted.
“You sure he hasn’t buggered off again?” he asked caustically, and Ianto responded calmly, “He hasn’t.”
Owen sat back in his chair and stared at him, chewing the end of a pen as he said, “And you know this… how?”
“He would have told me,” Ianto said, smiling a little, and Owen groaned, “Oh bloody hell,” and span back to face his computer screens as Ianto, smirking now, headed for the archives to do some more work tidying up the older sections of the archives.
~*~
Jack didn’t reappear as quickly as Ianto expected. Tosh tried contacting him via his headset, but got no response, and her scan of the Hub didn’t show anything. Ianto refused to be worried by Jack’s absence – it was easy enough to wander far enough into the archives that you wouldn’t show up on any scan, as long as you didn’t mind being off the power grid.
By mid-afternoon he was a little more worried, but kept himself busy and tried to trust Jack.
~*~
He stayed working down in the archives after the others had left. Less than half an hour after their departure, he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. When he turned, the corridor was empty.
Dismissing it as a trick of the light (or his mind), Ianto turned back to the filing.
After a few moments, the flutter reappeared briefly, and this time Ianto stared down the corridor for a long time before warily replacing the items he was sorting through and starting back towards his jacket and earpiece, which he’d left (perhaps unwisely) draped over one of the other filing cabinets.
Before he got there, he heard an ethereal, singsong whisper of, “Ianto… Ianto…”
Briefly, he was rendered speechless.
And then Jack called, “Sing for me, my angel!”
“Get stuffed, sir,” Ianto yelled back, and there was a startled pause before Jack called, far more petulantly this time, “Why not?”
“I’m not being your Christine,” Ianto shouted, and turned back to his filing, only to find that Jack had appeared in the corridor behind him, swathed in black cloak and hat, with a half-skull mask not quite managing to hide his crestfallen expression.
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Ianto snapped. “What do you think you’re playing at?”
“I just thought…” Jack started, and Ianto put his hands on his hips. Jack stopped again, ducking his head and looking up at Ianto from under the brim of his hat.
There was a momentary silence, and then Ianto said, “Well at least you did your research, rather than just relying on the film,” and Jack got a flicker of a smile back.
“I’m still not singing,” Ianto told him quickly, and Jack gave him a pleading look, saying, “Not even for me?”
Ianto folded his arms, and said, “If I’m meant to be your Christine, that means I’m going to have to leave you for another man, and I really think you, Owen and I would prefer it if that never happened.”
Jack tilted his head to one side, and asked, “How about being Raoul instead?”
“Then we’d have to fight over Tosh, surely,” Ianto said, frowning.
Smiling a little more, Jack said, “But you know the whole struggle over Christine is just an expression of Raoul and the Phantom’s deep and abiding desire for each other.”
“Now I think you’ve done a little too much research on the internet,” Ianto said dryly, and Jack grinned, reminding him, “The Phantom does get to tie Raoul up…”
Ianto paused again, and then said, “Ah. Yes. There is always that.”
Jack grinned wider, then swept his hat off and put it on Ianto’s head instead, wrapping his cloak around them both and purring, “I knew you’d see things my way.”
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Word Count: 1134
Summary: Jack gets all his best ideas from films...
Prompt: Jantolution Challenge #7, Prompt - Mystery.
A/N: Spoilers for Phantom of the Opera...
The Phantom of the Hub
Jack stretched out one hand without looking, eyes fixed on the TV screen as he fished for a Malteser in the pot Ianto was holding, then brought his prize back to his mouth, chin resting on his other hand, lying stretched out on Ianto’s sofa with one leg crooked up behind Ianto (being leant on heavily now, since Ianto had settled down comfortably at the beginning of the film and not moved since) and the other across Ianto’s lap, putting up with the pot of Maltesers being rested on his knee.
He ate the Malteser, barely tasting it, utterly fascinated with the film Ianto had chosen. Now there were candelabras (surely the plural should be candelabrae, really. Latin root and all that) rising from the pool, candles sparking into life the moment they touched the air. He’d seen a similar thing once, back on Maaratta Three. It had been pretty impressive then, but with the added zest of a couple on a boat, an underground lair, and a portcullis sealing them off from the world as they floated towards the shore, it was positively inspiring.
Breaking away from the film for a second, he shot a glance at Ianto, who smiled at him briefly and then returned his attention to the television, where the Phantom was busily serenading his kidnapped singer.
Jack snuck another Malteser from the pot, licking the chocolate from his fingers thoughtfully, and went back to watching the film.
He remained engrossed until near the end, when the Phantom, Raoul and Christine were all competing in song, and the whole plot had become entangled in one big mixture of love and deceit and anger. Jack had long since forgotten about the Maltesers, but dragged himself away from the film for a few moments when Ianto shifted against his legs. Looking over at him, Jack saw him turn away a little and subtly raise a hand to his eyes.
“You alright?” Jack asked quietly, and Ianto nodded.
“Something in my eye,” he muttered, and Jack sat up a little, reaching out to Ianto’s shoulder and saying, “Let me see.”
“No, it’s fine,” Ianto said quickly, swiftly rubbing his eyes and shooting a smile at Jack to prove it.
Jack smiled back, resisted the urge to kiss him, and returned to lounging on the sofa, propping his chin on his hand and getting back to the film just in time for the grand finish.
And the thoughtful smile that was on his face stayed there all the way through until the end credits, when Ianto put aside the still-unfinished Maltesers and proceeded to show Jack just how much he appreciated spending some time relaxing with him.
“Seen Jack today?” Owen asked Ianto when he brought the others their first coffee of the day.
“Not since we arrived,” Ianto told him, ignoring Owen rolling his eyes at the implication that Jack had spent the night at Ianto’s flat with the ease of practice. “I’m sure he’s around somewhere,” he added, and at that Owen snorted.
“You sure he hasn’t buggered off again?” he asked caustically, and Ianto responded calmly, “He hasn’t.”
Owen sat back in his chair and stared at him, chewing the end of a pen as he said, “And you know this… how?”
“He would have told me,” Ianto said, smiling a little, and Owen groaned, “Oh bloody hell,” and span back to face his computer screens as Ianto, smirking now, headed for the archives to do some more work tidying up the older sections of the archives.
Jack didn’t reappear as quickly as Ianto expected. Tosh tried contacting him via his headset, but got no response, and her scan of the Hub didn’t show anything. Ianto refused to be worried by Jack’s absence – it was easy enough to wander far enough into the archives that you wouldn’t show up on any scan, as long as you didn’t mind being off the power grid.
By mid-afternoon he was a little more worried, but kept himself busy and tried to trust Jack.
He stayed working down in the archives after the others had left. Less than half an hour after their departure, he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. When he turned, the corridor was empty.
Dismissing it as a trick of the light (or his mind), Ianto turned back to the filing.
After a few moments, the flutter reappeared briefly, and this time Ianto stared down the corridor for a long time before warily replacing the items he was sorting through and starting back towards his jacket and earpiece, which he’d left (perhaps unwisely) draped over one of the other filing cabinets.
Before he got there, he heard an ethereal, singsong whisper of, “Ianto… Ianto…”
Briefly, he was rendered speechless.
And then Jack called, “Sing for me, my angel!”
“Get stuffed, sir,” Ianto yelled back, and there was a startled pause before Jack called, far more petulantly this time, “Why not?”
“I’m not being your Christine,” Ianto shouted, and turned back to his filing, only to find that Jack had appeared in the corridor behind him, swathed in black cloak and hat, with a half-skull mask not quite managing to hide his crestfallen expression.
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Ianto snapped. “What do you think you’re playing at?”
“I just thought…” Jack started, and Ianto put his hands on his hips. Jack stopped again, ducking his head and looking up at Ianto from under the brim of his hat.
There was a momentary silence, and then Ianto said, “Well at least you did your research, rather than just relying on the film,” and Jack got a flicker of a smile back.
“I’m still not singing,” Ianto told him quickly, and Jack gave him a pleading look, saying, “Not even for me?”
Ianto folded his arms, and said, “If I’m meant to be your Christine, that means I’m going to have to leave you for another man, and I really think you, Owen and I would prefer it if that never happened.”
Jack tilted his head to one side, and asked, “How about being Raoul instead?”
“Then we’d have to fight over Tosh, surely,” Ianto said, frowning.
Smiling a little more, Jack said, “But you know the whole struggle over Christine is just an expression of Raoul and the Phantom’s deep and abiding desire for each other.”
“Now I think you’ve done a little too much research on the internet,” Ianto said dryly, and Jack grinned, reminding him, “The Phantom does get to tie Raoul up…”
Ianto paused again, and then said, “Ah. Yes. There is always that.”
Jack grinned wider, then swept his hat off and put it on Ianto’s head instead, wrapping his cloak around them both and purring, “I knew you’d see things my way.”