InsaneJournal

Fic: Five Death-Related Logistical Issues That Ianto Raises With Jack
Title: Mutual Service: Five Death-Related Logistical Issues That Ianto Raises With Jack
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Set in the Mutual Service verse. I highly recommend you read at least that first, or this won't make much sense.


1.

"If I was dead for two months," Ianto asks one day, setting a cup of coffee down on Jack's desk; "should I move my birthday back to compensate?"

Jack opens his mouth to answer, then closes it again. It's not something he's ever really thought about - but then, time travel alone screws with your perception of time even without the snatches of un-life he's provided with on a regular occasion now. He'd stopped counting his age a long time ago. "I don't know," he admits finally. "I suppose there's nothing stopping you."

The Welshman tilts his head for a moment in a gesture Jack thinks means he's working something out. Probably counting days, he decides, when his next words are, "October eighteen. I could be the only Leo-Virgo cusp with a fall birthday."

"Does that mean I still have a chance to give you birthday sex?" Jack asks, flashing teeth to show he's teasing. As amusing as it is to make Ianto flush and stammer, there's only so many times he can pen him into fleeing before things get too awkward between them.

This time, though, he's pleasantly surprised when Ianto just gives him an enigmatic smile. "Work on that," he advises, and leaves.


2.

It's somewhere past two in the afternoon when Jack's mobile rings; busy going over rift readings, he keeps his eyes glued to his monitor and reaches out blindly with his left hand, groping for it, finding it, bringing it to his ear to tuck in against his shoulder. "Jack Harkness."

"My driver's license," Ianto says, voice tense with irritation even through the phone line, "is invalid. I showed them my Torchwood ID but since I'm driving around with a dead man's identification in someone else's car, they are requiring confirmation from my superior."

Oh hell. Jack tries not to grin, he really really does, but the problem is that he can just imagine Ianto trying to explain the situation to whatever officer was asking questions. He hopes Tosh isn't getting a ticket - or her car "recovered" into an impound lot after being "stolen". "Are you at the station?" he asks.

"This isn't funny, sir. I'll thank you to wipe that smirk off your face."

"How do you do that?"

Ianto ignores him, probably deliberately. It's not like a magician to reveal his secrets, after all. "Yes, I'm at the station. If you want your dry-cleaning you'll have to come and pick it up."

"On my way," he promises, and cuts the connection. The rift readings will have to wait until later.


3.

When Jack comes down from his office, restless and vaguely hungry in the way people get when they're bored, Ianto and Tosh are huddled up at her station working on something. Curious, he heads over to see what's so interesting, and finds them hacking into what looks like the births deaths and marriages index. "What's this about then?" he asks, leaning against the side of Tosh's desk.

"Toshiko's making me exist again," Ianto explains. "I need a credit card and in my experience they don't issue them to the dead. Their accounts always end up in collections."

He says it completely deadpan, and Jack is coming to realise that some of the funniest things Ianto says are delivered that way. Still; "I thought I gave you a Torchwood card."

"Yes, sir, and I've seen some of the things that pass as legitimate expenses around here. But there are reasons people typically have separate business and personal accounts. Mixing them is both awkward and time-consuming when it comes to filing expense reports."

"I think I've got it," Tosh interrupts, "Though there's still a physical copy of your death certificate somewhere. Do you want me to get into the bank and set up accounts as well?"

"How good an interest rate can you get me?" Ianto asks, looking deeply interested, and Jack heads off to the kitchen with a grin and a shake of his head.


4.

This is Torchwood, and strange things happen a lot. But on the same note, this is Torchwood, and so Owen is insisting on putting Ianto through a barrage full of tests, and no one's arguing because no one really has any idea how the glove works, long term, and it's interesting in an academic way as well as for practicalities. He keeps emailing notes and reports to Jack (sometimes he'll CC Ianto, sometimes not, and Jack has yet to figure out if there's a pattern to it) and the file on the whole thing must be getting thick by now.

"I don't think he's aging," Owen decides after three weeks. "Or he's aging really, really slow. Hard to say. And honestly he could still drop dead at any point, which would be neat."

"I can hear you," Ianto says, buttoning his shirt up with a frown as Jack tries to pretend he's not watching.

Owen waves a hand at him in a "calm down" sort of gesture. "Yeah, yeah, I mean in a medical sense, obviously we're thrilled to have you. Coffee?"

Later, Ianto wanders into Jack's office, pausing to examine the piece of coral sitting on it, though Jack is fairly sure he's not actually particularly interested in it. Eventually he looks up, and the look on his face is pensive. "Do people really not notice that you don't age, sir?"

"Most of them aren't around long enough. Rumours get out, but they're rarely serious."

"It's different when you're older, though." He sits, finally, hands resting on his thighs. "Not many people would expect to notice a change in you over five years. But people tend to look vastly different at seventeen, twenty two and twenty seven."

He has a point, and Jack acknowledges it with a slow nod. The long term ramifications of this... well, it's easier to think of the good things, rather than the problematic details. He can focus on having someone to come back to, to keep company, a companion through the years, instead of worrying that Ianto won't want to last that long, or thinking about the suffering he'll go through every time he gets hurt, or wondering what he'll do when the Doctor finally turns up. "A modern day Saint-Germain," he muses.

"Without the alchemical talent," Ianto adds drolly.

"Well, yes, but who needs that when you have Torchwood?"


5.

The first time Jack kisses Ianto, they are both half-drunk. They don't have sex. Ianto pulls back (but not straight away, not until after he kisses back) and looks thoughtful and contemplative and confused, and Jack makes himself wait for a reaction.

"I think this is necrophilia," Ianto decides after a minute. "I'm not sure if I'm into that."

"Typically the dead partner doesn't have to be," Jack points out, then realises that that is not a very good seduction strategy and adds hastily, "This isn't very typical though. For starters you're breathing."

Ianto laughs, leaning back into the couch as though even his bones have gone soft and lazy with the alcohol. "I don't know..."

Jack thinks he's talking about the kiss, rather than the requirements for necrophilia, so he kisses him again to see if it will convince him. It takes him longer to put a stop to it this time and when he pulls away he has a hand on Jack's jaw, gazing up at him from his slouch with dark, tipsy eyes. He looks so vulnerable, frail and fragile, skin so pale in contrast to his hair, lips pink and soft. "No," he says, and Jack feels his heart or maybe his cock break a little in disappointment. "Not... not now, like this, I don't know. Not tonight. I'm too drunk. I need to think."

And that's okay in a way, that's not really a no, that's too many excuses because he wants to but he's scared to, so Jack lets him stand up and walk away, go back to his living quarters where he can sober up and think. He can afford to be patient.