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sariagrayTitle: The Chase
Author: sariagray
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, thoughts of Gwen
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1100
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Kinda fluffy, but only a little. Fuzzy?
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood. I do not make money off of Torchwood.
Author’s Note: Unbeta'ed. Mistakes, therefore, are solely mine. That being said, feel free to pick apart any and all errors within. I'm sure there are plenty to suss out. Have at it and have fun! :)
As he ran, Jack’s feet barely seemed to make contact with the pavement. Each step on the cold surface seemed to fall light as a leaf before springing back into the air. The bright autumnal moon provided crystal white light and the air brushed shockingly crisp against his skin. His breath appeared before him in little puffs of white, surrounding his head in a hazy lunar halo. He felt, not for the first time, like a god.
He loved this part of the job most. Following leads, outwitting the other party, trailing them through night-dampened streets: the Chase. In these moments, he was Cocidius.
The Weevil ahead of him was hardly the only thing he had to track. There were, of course, other creatures; hoix, nostrovites, night travelers, demons, what 21st century humans erroneously thought of as “fairies.” He had even, on occasion, chased down humans who were intent on doing harm to innocent life, alien or otherwise.
And then there was the other kind of chase. He loved it just as much, if not more. It required the same skill set that hounding enemies demanded; following leads and outwitting the other party. While it usually never devolved into trailing them through night-dampened streets, it had happened on occasion. In those moments, he was Aengus.
There was a thrill to it, to homing in on a potential bedmate and working his way into their existence, making them crave him. The success, the having of his prize, was not nearly as fun as the pursuit. Simply put, it’s why his affairs never lasted long. He wasn’t cruel; in fact, he was a very conscientious lover. He would never force anyone into a situation, would never hurt them (not intentionally, anyway), and would even back down if it came to that. Sometimes, it did.
He had backed down with Gwen, trying to put enough emotional and physical distance between them. Sure, at first he didn’t think she would be able to keep up her relationship with Rhys. There were too many lies, too many secrets; it didn’t help that he hadn’t thought the man was strong-willed enough for her. Graciously, he admitted that he was wrong. Rhys had proven himself to be more than adequate. A perfect match, really. He recognized it and he knew that Gwen had, too, on some subconscious level. But she had become too tangled up in his net – he kept tossing it back into the water to release her, and still she clung, wrist and ankles caught up in the rope.
Eventually, she would free herself. She was a resourceful woman.
As he rounded the corner, he saw a path that he knew would allow him to cut off the Weevil he had been hunting. That the path went through three backyards did not faze him. He quickly vaulted the useless chain fence and took off. The tiny trail, probably used by the neighborhood children to get to the nearby park, was shaded by leaf-laden trees that partially obscured the moonlight. He let his eyes adjust, briefly, and was off again.
He broke through a small copse of trees into a moonlit field and noted with a sense of satisfaction that he had been correct. Weevils seemed to gravitate towards parks and this one was no exception. He charged towards the oncoming creature, Weevil Spray at the ready, and quickly subdued it. His mind whispered a thanks to Owen for the improved deterrent; the doctor had done wonders.
He bent himself, resting his hands upon his thighs, and panted to catch his breath. He tensed when he heard footsteps approaching until he recognized the familiar gait.
“You,” the approaching man gasped, “are an idiot.”
Standing, Jack turned around and offered an apologetic smile. The man before him was bathed in light, glimmering where it reflected off of the beads of sweat around his temples. His body temperature had risen and the heat he was giving off met with the chilled air to form tendrils of steam. They radiated from his body like power; here was an incarnation of Arma, staring at him. A very disturbingly upset incarnation, if the scowl cast Jack’s way was any indication. In this moment, he was mortal. Speechless.
“One minute you’re standing next to me, chattering away about the seasons. The next, you’re taking off. I had to put all the equipment back in the SUV. You didn’t even think to grab your comm.”
“Ianto, I – look, there was a Weevil. I caught him. Job done.”
Ianto glared a few seconds more and then sighed.
“I parked at that street over there,” he pointed. “It’s only a short walk. I can come around and bring the SUV right here if I go through that entrance. We’ll leave tire tracks, but at least no one will see us.”
Jack beamed and crossed the distance between them. He had the distinct impression that he should fall to his knees and bow his head in supplication, but he refrained. It would be difficult to explain the impulse to anyone, and Ianto was even more intolerant of the impractical than most Welsh.
He did, however, take Ianto’s hands in his and look him directly in the eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Yes, well,” Ianto gulped, overwhelmed by the gesture and the trance that enveloped him. “Just…be careful, okay? I don’t want to lose you.”
Jack smiled. “Yeah, but I always come back.”
Ianto nodded, the stoicism gradually returning. Jack pulled him close and kissed him, tenderly. He wrapped his right arm around his lover and caressed the back of his neck with his free hand. The tension dissolved from their bodies, giving way to a burning passion. Ianto pulled away, quickly.
“Weevil,” he murmured, reluctantly.
Jack rested his forehead against Ianto’s, looking intently at his lips. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Let’s…get him to the Hub and go home.”
Ianto raised an eyebrow. “Home?”
“Yep.”
He released his grip and strode over to the comatose creature lying recumbent on the dewy grass. Ianto retraced his steps to the waiting vehicle, a small smile ghosting over his features.
It wasn’t until they were driving back to the Hub, his left hand entwined in Ianto’s right, that the realization struck Jack. He, the Hunter, had gotten himself captured. He was completely and undeniably ensnared; he thought he had been running, but had stopped long ago. What shocked him the most, though, was that breaking free was the furthest thing from his mind.
Sometimes, he mused to himself as he glanced over at the man sitting next to him, getting caught was much better than the chase.
Author: sariagray
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, thoughts of Gwen
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1100
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Kinda fluffy, but only a little. Fuzzy?
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood. I do not make money off of Torchwood.
Author’s Note: Unbeta'ed. Mistakes, therefore, are solely mine. That being said, feel free to pick apart any and all errors within. I'm sure there are plenty to suss out. Have at it and have fun! :)
The Chase
As he ran, Jack’s feet barely seemed to make contact with the pavement. Each step on the cold surface seemed to fall light as a leaf before springing back into the air. The bright autumnal moon provided crystal white light and the air brushed shockingly crisp against his skin. His breath appeared before him in little puffs of white, surrounding his head in a hazy lunar halo. He felt, not for the first time, like a god.
He loved this part of the job most. Following leads, outwitting the other party, trailing them through night-dampened streets: the Chase. In these moments, he was Cocidius.
The Weevil ahead of him was hardly the only thing he had to track. There were, of course, other creatures; hoix, nostrovites, night travelers, demons, what 21st century humans erroneously thought of as “fairies.” He had even, on occasion, chased down humans who were intent on doing harm to innocent life, alien or otherwise.
And then there was the other kind of chase. He loved it just as much, if not more. It required the same skill set that hounding enemies demanded; following leads and outwitting the other party. While it usually never devolved into trailing them through night-dampened streets, it had happened on occasion. In those moments, he was Aengus.
There was a thrill to it, to homing in on a potential bedmate and working his way into their existence, making them crave him. The success, the having of his prize, was not nearly as fun as the pursuit. Simply put, it’s why his affairs never lasted long. He wasn’t cruel; in fact, he was a very conscientious lover. He would never force anyone into a situation, would never hurt them (not intentionally, anyway), and would even back down if it came to that. Sometimes, it did.
He had backed down with Gwen, trying to put enough emotional and physical distance between them. Sure, at first he didn’t think she would be able to keep up her relationship with Rhys. There were too many lies, too many secrets; it didn’t help that he hadn’t thought the man was strong-willed enough for her. Graciously, he admitted that he was wrong. Rhys had proven himself to be more than adequate. A perfect match, really. He recognized it and he knew that Gwen had, too, on some subconscious level. But she had become too tangled up in his net – he kept tossing it back into the water to release her, and still she clung, wrist and ankles caught up in the rope.
Eventually, she would free herself. She was a resourceful woman.
As he rounded the corner, he saw a path that he knew would allow him to cut off the Weevil he had been hunting. That the path went through three backyards did not faze him. He quickly vaulted the useless chain fence and took off. The tiny trail, probably used by the neighborhood children to get to the nearby park, was shaded by leaf-laden trees that partially obscured the moonlight. He let his eyes adjust, briefly, and was off again.
He broke through a small copse of trees into a moonlit field and noted with a sense of satisfaction that he had been correct. Weevils seemed to gravitate towards parks and this one was no exception. He charged towards the oncoming creature, Weevil Spray at the ready, and quickly subdued it. His mind whispered a thanks to Owen for the improved deterrent; the doctor had done wonders.
He bent himself, resting his hands upon his thighs, and panted to catch his breath. He tensed when he heard footsteps approaching until he recognized the familiar gait.
“You,” the approaching man gasped, “are an idiot.”
Standing, Jack turned around and offered an apologetic smile. The man before him was bathed in light, glimmering where it reflected off of the beads of sweat around his temples. His body temperature had risen and the heat he was giving off met with the chilled air to form tendrils of steam. They radiated from his body like power; here was an incarnation of Arma, staring at him. A very disturbingly upset incarnation, if the scowl cast Jack’s way was any indication. In this moment, he was mortal. Speechless.
“One minute you’re standing next to me, chattering away about the seasons. The next, you’re taking off. I had to put all the equipment back in the SUV. You didn’t even think to grab your comm.”
“Ianto, I – look, there was a Weevil. I caught him. Job done.”
Ianto glared a few seconds more and then sighed.
“I parked at that street over there,” he pointed. “It’s only a short walk. I can come around and bring the SUV right here if I go through that entrance. We’ll leave tire tracks, but at least no one will see us.”
Jack beamed and crossed the distance between them. He had the distinct impression that he should fall to his knees and bow his head in supplication, but he refrained. It would be difficult to explain the impulse to anyone, and Ianto was even more intolerant of the impractical than most Welsh.
He did, however, take Ianto’s hands in his and look him directly in the eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Yes, well,” Ianto gulped, overwhelmed by the gesture and the trance that enveloped him. “Just…be careful, okay? I don’t want to lose you.”
Jack smiled. “Yeah, but I always come back.”
Ianto nodded, the stoicism gradually returning. Jack pulled him close and kissed him, tenderly. He wrapped his right arm around his lover and caressed the back of his neck with his free hand. The tension dissolved from their bodies, giving way to a burning passion. Ianto pulled away, quickly.
“Weevil,” he murmured, reluctantly.
Jack rested his forehead against Ianto’s, looking intently at his lips. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Let’s…get him to the Hub and go home.”
Ianto raised an eyebrow. “Home?”
“Yep.”
He released his grip and strode over to the comatose creature lying recumbent on the dewy grass. Ianto retraced his steps to the waiting vehicle, a small smile ghosting over his features.
It wasn’t until they were driving back to the Hub, his left hand entwined in Ianto’s right, that the realization struck Jack. He, the Hunter, had gotten himself captured. He was completely and undeniably ensnared; he thought he had been running, but had stopped long ago. What shocked him the most, though, was that breaking free was the furthest thing from his mind.
Sometimes, he mused to himself as he glanced over at the man sitting next to him, getting caught was much better than the chase.
End
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