Title: Handle with care
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: M
Length: 1,838 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 514 - Gentle
Summary: Jack has been on the receiving end of alien technology that has made him more fragile than usual.



‘Time to go home,’ Ianto called out, coming to lean in Jack's office doorway, his coat draped over his arm.

‘Thank God,’ Jack groaned, wondering it if we're possible that time had become completely frozen. ‘I've been going out of my mind here. It's been nothing but fetching cups of tea and paperwork.’

‘Well, after you nearly tripped on the stairs trying to go across to the armoury to clean and oil all our weapons, we thought the safest thing for you was to stay away from, you know, actually doing anything.’

Jack growled in annoyance. ‘I’m fine, you know. Totally fine,’ he said, underscoring the point.

‘Mentally, I don’t disagree, however your doctor would challenge your physical state of wellness.’

Jack snorted. ‘Doctors. What would they know, huh?’

‘A great deal more about not tinkering with alien technology when you don't know what it does,’ Ianto deftly replied. ‘Thus your current predicament.’

Jack growled again. He couldn't deny the logic of the argument, but it was far safer for him to tinker than it was any of his mortal teammates, particularly in the current situation. ‘It's not like I won't heal right back up,’ he argued.

‘And once again you’ve missed the point entirely,’ Ianto replied. ‘Brittle bone syndrome is a real thing that people deal with every day. They don’t get the luxury of having their bones heal in a matter of an hour or two. For them it's weeks, and I'm certain that no matter how quickly it happens to heal, broken ones hurt like hell. I broke my leg when I was a kid, so I should know.’

‘It’s temporary,’ Jack reiterated. ‘I’ll be fine in a week or so. No need to be wrapping me up in cotton wool.’

‘Says the man who broke his finger when it got caught in a drawer earlier.’

Jack’s jaw clenched and then he reminded himself not to clench it too hard. ‘It's fine now.’

‘Ah, so you admit you broke it?’

Jack’s face twisted in annoyance. Of course he'd denied it. What kind of leader would he be if he couldn't even fetch post it notes? And it had hurt more than he liked. But it was fine now. All healed again. ‘Paperwork will be the death of me, Ianto,’ he said, having proven it to be true.

‘And you’ll be the death of me,’ he replied. ‘Death by exasperation,’ he clarified, knowing that the real truth hit a little too close to home.

‘So go home and you won’t have to worry about me any more.’

‘Oh, no,’ Ianto said. ‘You’re coming with me where I can keep an eye on you.’

‘Whilst you're sleeping?’

Ianto heaved a sigh. ‘Truly. The death of me,’ he repeated. ‘Now get up and get in the car. Preferably without tripping on the way.’



Ianto phoned ahead and ordered fish and chips to take away. He picked them up promptly just as they were being pulled from the deep fryer, leaving Jack in the car for sixty seconds or less so that he couldn't fidget his way to additional broken digits. They smelled so good that Jack wanted to rip the paper open right then and there, but Ianto made him wait, putting them on the back seat and out of Jack's reach.

Jack had to admit that a quiet night in was better than what the doctor ordered. They relaxed on Ianto’s sofa, nice and soft without any hard edges, and shared the box of fish and chips between them whilst the television burbled away in the background. Ianto had a beer and kept bottles of sparkling soda water in the fridge for Jack so that he didn’t feel left out.

Jack didn't mean to be difficult but he struggled with the concept of being out of action when action was the thing he loved most. It was hard to accept that something as simple as chasing down aliens could land him with two broken legs, a shattered ribcage and more punctures of vital organs by broken shards of bone than he could survive. No one was keen on letting him die just to prove that it would probably fix his current problem, putting him back to how he’d been before his experimental tinkering. Right now he was, internally speaking, like ancient fine bone china, prone to breakage at even the slightest knock. It was frustrating, but undeniably part of the dangers of his job.



As the television credits at half eight began to roll, Ianto yawned. ‘Alright, time for a shower and then bed.’

‘Not a nice long soak in the bath?’ Jack countered, hoping to extend their date night.

‘Do you seriously think I'd trust you being able to get in and out of a bathtub without hurting yourself?’

‘Well, you’d be there to soften my landing,’ Jack said, trying to be funny and failing. ‘Fine. Shower it is. And I'm not tired, by the way.’ Tired of being coddled, yes, but Jack rarely went to bed before midnight.



Jack suffered through the indignity of letting Ianto carefully undress him. Normally that sort of thing would have excited Jack, but he knew that the reason Ianto was peeling his clothes off had nothing to do with wanting him naked for extracurricular activities.

‘Arms up,’ Ianto said once he'd removed Jack's shirt and braces, gently pulling the t-shirt up and over his head whilst not jostling him.

‘This is usually more fun,’ Jack replied, complying with the patient instruction.

‘And usually not so physically fraught with danger,’ Ianto replied, kneeling to remove his trousers and pants. ‘Foot off the floor, Jack. Lean on me if you feel wobbly.’ Jack heaved a sigh and did what he was told. He was on a hiding to nothing to argue about it.

Fully undressed, Ianto reached in and turned the water on. ‘Okay, you pop in there and just stand there for a second.’ He began tugging his own clothes off.

‘Woah, I thought we weren’t going to have any fun?’ Jack asked.

‘I’m showering with you so that you don’t slip and hurt yourself, you nonce.’

‘Ianto,’ Jack said, opting for a firmer tone. ‘I’ve been around for a century and a half. I’ve only slipped and hurt myself in the shower once in that entire time.’

‘And, if I recall correctly, it was in this very shower stall, and you hit your head on the tap fitting so hard that you were out cold and I was scrubbing blood from the tile grout for days.’

Jack rolled his eyes, watching Ianto strip as the warm water began to run across his shoulders, before Ianto carefully stepped into the stall with him and closed the door. It was a bit tight, but they’d had a lot of practice.

‘Now, you just stand still and let me do all the work.’ Ianto paused and smirked. ‘You should be an expert at that.’

‘Har har. My boyfriend the comedian, ladies and gentlemen.’

Jack did as he was told, letting Ianto reach around him, ever so tenderly soaping up his body and massaging the hot water into the skin to wash away a day’s worth of grime. The hot water felt good, as did Ianto's hands running all over his body. Dead puppies, dead puppies, he let the mantra repeat in his head, trying not to let those hands arouse him too much.

Ianto reached around his body again, this time with the bottle of shampoo in hand. The gel was cold at first but soon those magic coffee-making fingers were working their way through his scalp, working the suds into every last follicle without adding any pressure at all. Jack supposed of all the bones to break in his body, a fractured skull would be the one he wanted least.

‘Close your eyes?’ Ianto asked. ‘Don’t want to get shampoo suds in them.’ Jack closed them and felt Ianto press his head back slightly, rinsing out the soap, and then doing the same with the conditioner. Jack moaned quietly, keeping his eyes closed the whole time.

‘One might think you were enjoying yourself,’ Ianto said, working the last of the conditioner out with more hot water.

‘Pot meet kettle,’ Jack murmured as Ianto swept a hand across his face wiping away the last dribbles of water running down his face.

Ianto switched places with him, quickly soaping himself and rinsing, as if he hadn’t probably already had a decent share of Jack’s soap suds, before flipping the tap off. ‘I’ll be two secs to dry off and then we’ll get you out and dry you.’

‘I’m not a dinner plate,’ Jack reminded him.

Ianto stepped out and reached for a towel. ‘Actually, today you sort of are.’ He towelled himself off and then extended a hand to Jack, helping him out of the stall and onto the bath mat, before Ianto took a second dry towel and began patting him dry, bit by bit. ‘Come sit on the bed and I'll finish drying your hair,’ Ianto offered.

Jack took the offer as an opportunity, perching on the side of the large queen bed, naked as the day he was born as an equally unclothed Ianto came and sat on the bed next to him. Without preamble, Ianto had the towel over Jack's head and began rubbing softly to pull away the dampness in slow circular motions. The rhythmic massage was more enjoyable than expected and Jack let his eyes fall shut as the towel continued to gently massage all the day’s frustration out of him.

The towel eventually slipped away and was replaced once more by Ianto's fingers, lightly combing their way through his hair, putting it all back the way it should be before leaning in and kissing Jack. It was ever so delicate and tender the way he barely touched Jack's lips and yet it felt as intense, or even more so than any full blooded, lip mashing, tongue tangling kiss he'd ever given. Jack adored the intensity of Ianto’s affection for him, and the way he made sure that Jack could never be hurt on his watch. It was just so Ianto to care that fiercely.

Ianto's kiss broke away, like a butterfly taking flight, and there was a warm thumb striking across Jack’s cheek. ‘Sleepy now?’

Jack hummed, letting Ianto guide him down onto the bed and under the duvet, pulling it up without tucking him in tight. ‘Don’t want you struggling with the covers in the night,’ he said. ‘Everything nice and loose.’ Jack’s body sank into the bed, like his bones had melted away completely. Ianto leaned over and pecked him on the forehead. ‘I’ll be on the sofa. Don’t want to accidentally snuggle you into broken bones. Call out if you need anything.’

Jack couldn't remember if he mumbled anything in reply. He was just thinking as he drifted off the sleep that being a little bit fragile wasn’t always such a bad thing.