Fic- His Captain and His Angel 2/22

[branwen_blaidd]

Title: His Captain and His Angel 2/22

Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Ianto/John

Rating: Adult
Spoilers: Mild for COE (background information)f

Summary: Captain John Hart always gets what he wants.

Disclaimers: I own nothing.

Notes: This is the third in the series of stories about Ianto’s past. It follows Blue Moon’s Child and The Lost Son. I’ll be posting this once a day until it is finished. Special thanks go to czarina_kitty for being such a wonderful Beta. Also thanks to rowanheart24 for helping me brainstorm the original idea. Some Welsh in this Chapter: Hidia befo, Da. Da boch an nawr, which means ‘Don’t worry, Dad. Bye for now. Comments please!

 

 

Captain John Hart strolled through the streets of Newport, following the quietly beeping signal on his wriststrap. He’d been here before, staking the place out. The grubby little town was the same as it will be five years from now. Nothing special. Except for the boy John was tracking. The boy was special all right. Always will be.

John stopped, in sight of the playground and there he spotted the boy. Nineteen years old and as pretty as ever. John grinned. Ianto Jones would be his.

Ianto was sitting on one of the old metal swings, slowly moving back and forth, not focusing on anything around him. He seemed lost in thought. He was wearing baggy jeans and a black t-shirt with Nirvana written on it. John grinned. Jeans and t-shirts were a good look for the boy but when John is in charge, he will only wear tight, figure hugging clothing.

John grinned and slowly began to walk towards Ianto. Only seconds after he started walking, Ianto sensed he was there and his head shot up. Half a second later, he was up and glaring at John.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

John assumed his best trustworthy expression. “I was worried about you, kiddo. You looked kind of lost sitting here all on your own.”

Ianto shrugged. “Not lost. I live around here.”

John smiled and held out his hand. “John Hart. Nice to meet you.”

Ianto shook his hand. “Ianto Jones. Hey.”

John took out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket pocket. He took one out and lit it, then offered the pack to Ianto.

“Want one?”

Ianto shrugged and took a cigarette. He didn’t light in but twirled it thoughtfully between his fingers.

“You don’t live around here,” he said.

John raised his eyebrows. “Oh really? What makes you so sure about that?”

Ianto shrugged. “Your accent’s wrong. And…nobody round here looks like…you do,” he said, gesturing towards John’s outfit. “What’s with the coat? Are you gay?”

John smirked. “I’m open to all possibilities.”

Ianto’s eyebrow lifted. John didn’t bother to hide his grin. So Ianto had been practising that for a while, then.

“Well, you won’t get far around here, mate. There’re aren’t so many possibilities in Newport, ya know,” he said and turned away.

John watched him until his firm, tight arse disappeared round the corner with the rest of him.

                                       * * *

Ianto didn’t want to go home but it was getting late. Da would be getting impatient already. As he walked, twirling his cigarette, he thought about the man he’d met in the park. ‘Open to all possibilities.’ Ianto sniggered. Still, there was something interesting about the guy. He had a swagger to him and there was something about that which attracted Ianto.

He tucked the cigarette into his jeans as he reached his front door. He’d catch it if his da saw him with it.

The door slammed behind him and he slipped the catch on. “Da! I’m home,” he yelled.

“Your tea’s in the oven,” called back the rough voice of Iestyn Jones, tired after a long day in the shop.

“Ta.” Ianto went into the kitchen, opened the oven and took out his tea. Bacon, new potatoes out of the garden, and broad beans. He grabbed the brown sauce, a knife and fork and a bottle of beer and took the whole lot through to the lounge.

The Weakest Link was on. Ianto’s da was sitting in his arm chair, chin resting on his fist, gazing at the TV and clutching his beer in his other hand.

Ianto ate slowly, picking at his food with his fingers and chugging his beer. He wasn’t really watching the telly. Da kept a running commentary of the quiz: answering questions, making comments about the contestants, laughing at Anne Robinson’s jokes.

“She’s a character, that Anne. Always got something to say.”

“Yeah,” Ianto murmured, not really paying attention.

Iestyn chuckled to himself. “Look at him! Bob from Bristol. He wants an ‘aircut.”

Ianto glanced at the shiny bald head of Bob from Bristol and raised an eyebrow.

“Thick as a plank an’ all. Doesn’t even know the Capital of Luxembourg.”

“Do you?”

“Of course, it’s…erm…” He frowned and turned to point a finger at Ianto “None of your cheek. What is it anyway?”

Ianto smiled. “Luxembourg City.”

“Oh. Imaginative lot,” he snorted and went back to watching.

Ianto finished his tea quietly, then left the room.

He went up to his bedroom, shut himself in and sat at his desk. He took the cigarette out of his pocket and twirled it between his fingers. He didn’t light it; his da would smell it. Instead he just held it, twirling it and occasionally inhaling the smell of it.

He picked up a pencil and began to doodle on the large pad which always lay open on his desk. The sheet it was open at was already covered in random doodles of whatever had been in his head at the time. He never thought about what he was drawing, just kept his hand moving and let his mind wander.

He held the cigarette close to his nose, breathing in its scent even as he twirled in his fingers. There was something strange about the cigarette. As he inhaled it, it seemed to go straight to his head, making it swim as if he’d taken far too big a drag.

He felt weak but at the same time exhilarated, as if something wonderful were being done to him and he was powerless to stop it.

He put the cigarette down and shook his head to clear it. He breathed deliberately slowly, then glanced down at his drawing. He’d drawn John, the guy in the park. That was funny. He hadn’t been aware of thinking about John at all. He swallowed, feeling vaguely unsettled. He needed a cigarette. He grabbed his black hoodie from the back of his door, shoved his fags and lighter into his jeans’ pocket and headed for the front door.

“Where’re you goin’?” called Iestyn from the kitchen. “I was just going to make us a bit of supper. Bread and jam, bit of cake and a nice cuppa.”

Ianto glanced at his da and saw that vaguely worried expression he sometimes saw in that weary face.

“Erm, I’m just going out for a walk. See you after, Da.”

“Don’t be late back. You’ve got work in the morning.”

“Hidia befo, Da,” Ianto said, though he knew his da would worry anyway. “Da boch an nawr!” He called goodbye, then rushed out and let the door slam behind him before his da could answer.

He walked quickly, rushing to his favourite place. He spent a lot of his free time in the park. It was a good place to think about things. He’d been going there since he was a little kid.

This time, the park wasn’t empty. It was eight o’clock in the evening and all the teenagers had been let off the estate and had scattered to their various hang outs to enjoy each other’s company and the night air, whilst swigging cider.

There were five fourteen or fifteen year olds hanging out on the monkey bars. He knew them vaguely but he didn’t go over. He wanted to be on his own.

He sat down on his swing and lit his cigarette. He swung slowly, puffing on his cigarette. He didn’t feel quite right. John was definitely on his mind now, because he shouldn’t have been on his mind. He’d met the guy once. He was nothing special, though granted a little unusual for Newport. But there was no reason Ianto should be thinking about him, no reason for him to be on Ianto’s mind.

Ianto’s hand went to his necklace as it often did when he was thinking. He gripped the small golden cross he usually kept hidden under his shirt. It always settled him to touch it. It was the stability in his life. It was his connection with God.

                                             * * *

John Hart stood hidden in the darkness, watching Ianto Jones silently. The boy was sitting alone on the same swing as before, smoking and apparently deep in thought. John pressed a few buttons on his wriststrap and smiled as it told him that Ianto was smoking the cigarette John had given him.

John swung his hips. He knew exactly what Ianto was thinking about now. He was thinking about John. The chemicals in the cigarette would ensure it. Things were going well. He’d made contact. He’d touched Ianto’s mind. Now, he had to deepen the contact and hope Torchwood didn’t work out what he was doing.

 

Comments

[pharlap1.livejournal.com]

love the update bad John poor Ianto hope Torchwood work it out befor it to late

[branwen-blaidd.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[black-shiro.livejournal.com]

Oh my, really what John wants, John gets... i hope it won't end to bad for poor Ianto D:

[branwen-blaidd.livejournal.com]

Thanks for commenting! Next part now up.

[toshiani007.livejournal.com]

Love the update!!! It was excellent!!!

[branwen-blaidd.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[madbottoms.livejournal.com]

So John has to drug Ianrto to get him. Bad, bad John.

[branwen-blaidd.livejournal.com]

Yep, really bad John.

Thanks for commenting!

[royalladyemma.livejournal.com]

Bloody bastard, that John. For heaven's sake, run, Ianto Jones, RUN!

[branwen-blaidd.livejournal.com]

Shouting at the screen already? Thanks for commenting!

[bluelilacs.livejournal.com]

Uh oh. I guess now we know just how determined John is. He's willing to play very dirty to get Ianto. Kind of scary to think what he could do to Ianto by going back to his past when he's more vulnerable and impressionable.

[branwen-blaidd.livejournal.com]

Thanks for commenting!