Ianto opened his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the sunlight that was streaming in his window. He couldn't remember going to bed the night before. He couldn't even remember leaving the pub. If he were completely honest with himself, he shouldn't be surprised. At last count he'd had a few beers too many and if he recalled correctly, he'd been challenged to shots by Owen.
So really, the piercing bolt slicing through his head somewhere behind his eye sockets was to be expected. The searing pain when he attempted to roll out of bed to head to the bathroom, however, was not. Ianto let out a howl of agony and his bedroom door flew open, a very concerned and grimacing Jack Harkness moving quickly to his side and sliding him back onto the bed.
"Careful there, Ianto," he gently admonished, lifting the Welshman slightly and adjusting his legs until the throbbing in the right one was only a dull ache. "You're on bed rest. Doc's orders."
"What in bloody hell happened last night?" he hissed, eyes blinking away tears. There was a nasty pain in his midsection as well, almost worse than his ankle, and he gripped at his sides, feeling bandages around his otherwise bare upper half.
Jack sighed, brushing a hand over Ianto's forehead. "You don't remember anything?"
"I remember copious amounts of alcohol, sir," he stated flatly, groaning when a wave of nausea rolled through his stomach. "Oh, God."
"I can get you more pain meds?"
"No, no," he replied, clutching his stomach. "I'm going to be sick."
Jack was immediately lifting him from the bed until he was standing precariously on his good ankle, and Ianto slid his arm around Jack's shoulder. He tried not to wince at the shooting pain in his ribs and let himself be led to the bathroom before he stopped, insisting he could handle the rest on his own.
"Ianto," Jack began, his eyes hesitant.
"Please?" the younger man begged, swallowing against the tide rising in his gut. Jack just nodded, helping Ianto to his knees and then backing from the room, closing the door behind him.
When the cog door rolled open Jack lifted his head from the paperwork he'd been wading through and made his way to the main Hub. He had a greeting on the tip of his tongue for Gwen and Tosh as they smiled up at him, but he bit it back with a frown as he saw Owen walking guiltily next to someone who should not be there at all.
"You know," he started, taking a breath to keep his anger in check, "I could have sworn we had a discussion about bed rest and time off."
"I'm fine, sir," Ianto insisted, using a single crutch and meeting Jack's eyes for only a moment before he headed up to the coffeemaker. Jack didn't miss the flash of pain that crossed the man's features as he moved stiffly along.
"Owen?" Jack implored, folding his arms across his chest and watching the doctor slink toward the medical bay.
"I tried to tell him, Jack," he insisted, shrugging. "He didn't want to listen to me. I mean, who am I, really? I'm just a twat with a medical license."
"It's my fault, Jack," said Gwen, eyes wide and sincere. "He said he'd drive himself if I didn't agree to give him a lift in." She frowned, shaking her head. "I was afraid he'd re-injure himself, Jack."
There was a clanking of metal on metal, a small yelp, and then a Welsh curse, and Jack's head snapped towards the kitchenette. "Ianto!"
"I'm…I'm alright," came the breathy reply, and Jack groaned, not believing the man for an instant.
"That's it," he snapped, walking back into his office and grabbing his coat, shrugging into it as he headed down to where he knew the Welshman was attempting to make the team coffee. Tosh averted her eyes, suddenly engrossed in the rift program, Owen had slipped into his little alcove, and Gwen backed up slowly as Jack passed. "Ianto, let's go."
"Sir, really, I'm fine," Ianto replied, straightening against the counter where he was leaning when Jack found him.
"You're in pain, Ianto," Jack insisted, noticing the other man was standing at an odd angle. "You might be fine on your crutch with that ankle, but your ribs are killing you."
"I can handle it, sir."
Jack sighed, shaking his head. He moved closer, stooping to pick up the spoon that lay on the metal grating beneath Ianto's feet and placing it on the counter. He'd evidently tried to reach for it, causing the outburst. Stepping well into Ianto's personal space Jack raised a hand to the man's face and let his thumb brush across a bruised cheekbone. He hated seeing anyone on his team hurt, but it was especially difficult when that team member was Ianto.
"I'm taking you back to your flat," he told him, moving his fingers to Ianto's lips when he sensed he was going to receive an argument. Ianto's eyes narrowed and his nose flared, but he remained silent. "I shouldn't have left you alone in the first place. One day of rest is not enough to heal two broken ribs and an ankle."
Jack grabbed the wooden crutch in his right hand, keeping it out of Ianto's reach as he positioned himself, carefully slipping his left arm around the younger man's lower back. Ianto didn't protest, again leaning on Jack's shoulder as he had the day before, letting Jack lead him back toward the cog door.
"Gwen, keep an eye on the Hub. I'm taking Ianto back home and I'm staying there to make sure he doesn't attempt this again until he's ready."
"Of course, Jack," she replied. "Should I call if there's an alert?"
Jack stopped, waiting for the door to roll open. "Barring an attack of biblical proportions, Gwen, I think you all can handle it."
And with that they were gone.
Ianto lay reluctantly on the bed as he watched Jack move around his bedroom, helping himself to a pair of track suit bottoms and a t-shirt from a shelf in his wardrobe. He'd already insisted upon undressing Ianto and tucking him in beneath crisp sheets and his warm duvet. He'd wanted to protest but his aching muscles, throbbing ankle and tender ribs insisted he allow the man this moment of control. His only solace was the fact that Jack had taken great care to make sure his suit jacket, waistcoat and dress shirt were hung gently over the back of his chair and his suit trousers folded neatly on the seat below. He wasn't as sure about his belt, socks or shoes, but that seemed rather miniscule in comparison.
"You should try to sleep," Jack said softly, setting the clothes he'd borrowed on the foot of the bed as he sat down beside him.
"I will," he replied, smiling and letting his hand slide under Jack's. The older man rubbed his thumb over Ianto's palm. "Maybe you should sleep too?"
"Maybe," Jack agreed, returning his smile.
He leaned down and Ianto's eyes fluttered closed as Jack pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. The closeness was lost far too soon for Ianto's taste and as Jack moved to stand, Ianto gripped his hand.
"I'll just be in the other room."
"I meant in here, sir," Ianto replied, his voice no more than a whisper. He saw Jack hesitate, eyes dropping to his lips before blue met blue once more, and Ianto's smile grew more intense. "I promise I won't bite."
"Oh, but Ianto," Jack smirked, leaning close again until his lips were mere inches from Ianto's. "The biting is the best part."
Ianto groaned, one hand still holding Jack's and the other sliding into the man's hair as their mouths came together. The kiss was deep but sensuous, slow and agonizingly hot. He nearly whimpered when Jack pulled back once more.
"When you're healed, Ianto."
"You're a cruel man, Harkness."
"Ah yes," Jack agreed, standing and removing his hand from Ianto's grip. "But your ribs will thank me tomorrow."
The morning dragged into the afternoon, shadows playing against the walls of Ianto's lounge as Jack sat on his comfortable couch and watched pointless television. He'd checked on the man in the next room several times, but he was still sleeping soundly, the pain pills Owen had prescribed working their magic.
Stretching, Jack wandered into the small kitchen, poking in cupboards and rummaging through the refrigerator. Settling on some bread and sliced deli meat, he made up a sandwich for himself and his self-appointed ward. He put Ianto's away to keep cool while he snagged a bottle of water and moved back to the couch to eat his lunch.
He flipped channels until he found a cartoon to watch, laughing at the antics of the roadrunner and the coyote as he devoured his sandwich in just four bites. He washed it down with the cool beverage and set the plate and bottle on the small table, curling his legs up and resting against the arm of the couch.
His mind went back to the night of Ianto's injuries, and he swallowed a lump in his throat as he remembered, in vivid detail, his panic as he watched Ianto tumble from the invisible lift to the Hub floor. It was only a fifteen foot drop, as they'd been nearly to the bottom at the time it happened, but the inebriated Welshman wasn't having any of Owen's bantering from the floor below and walked straight off the lift, as if intending to just saunter over to the doctor to continue their squabble.
Jack hadn't been able to grab him quickly enough, and the sound of Ianto's ankle snapping when he hit the ground was something Jack would likely never get out of his head. He didn't hear the two ribs crack, but he knew they were probably still hurting him far worse than the ankle, since at least his ankle could be set and was now in a cast. They'd been excruciating yesterday, according to Ianto. Being sick to his stomach hadn't helped.
A soft moan from the bedroom knocked him out of his reverie and he scrambled to his feet, padding quickly to the other room and opening the door. He found Ianto awake, half tangled in the covers from the bed. Taking in the young man's tousled head of hair, flushed skin, and wide eyes, Jack's eyebrow shot up. His gaze dropped and he found the reason for the sound he'd heard.
"I can explain…"
"Ianto, I don't think an explanation is necessary," he teased, nodding toward the tent in the man's pajama bottoms.
"Actually, it's not what you think."
"Really?" he asked, moving to the side of the bed and sinking onto the edge as he'd done several hours before. His hand moved over Ianto's, where it was apparently frozen in mid stroke, and squeezed. Ianto gasped, eyes closing. "I'm pretty sure it is."
"I was dreaming, sir," Ianto breathed, eyes reopening, not removing his hand from beneath Jack's. "I woke up a moment ago and this," he pointed with his free hand, "was what I found."
Jack smirked, letting his hand guide Ianto's over the hard flesh, skin on skin contact only deterred by the soft flannel between hand and cock. He watched Ianto bite his lower lip, legs tensing and face a perfect picture of anguish as pain rolled across his features. His movement stopped, gently prying Ianto's hand away and his own fingers moving into the opening of the pajama bottoms, knowing no other barrier would be in his way.
"Let me," he whispered, seeing Ianto's look of confusion at having his hand pushed away. "Just relax."
Ianto nodded, eyes closing again and lips parting as a huff of air passed them when Jack's fingers closed around his erection. He stroked him firmly but gently, leaning down to kiss the man's unbelievably tempting mouth and getting rewarded with a moan of pleasure, which he devoured eagerly.
He made quick work of jerking the young man off, careful not to jostle his ribs or his legs if at all possible. When Ianto's breath was merely pants of unintelligible words, Jack knew he was close. He backed up on the bed a bit and lowered his head, taking Ianto's cock in his mouth and sucking at the head, delighting in the taste of his release and swallowing every drop.
When Ianto was whimpering from overstimulation he gave him one last lick and then tucked him away, smiling as he took in the sight before him. If possible, Ianto was even more tousled than he'd been mere minutes before. His mouth was rosy from Jack's kisses, his cheeks were tinged pink, and the look he was giving him spoke volumes.
"Th-thank you, Jack," he stuttered, breathing heavily.
"Believe me, Ianto," he told him, running a thumb across that rosy bottom lip. "It was my pleasure."
Ianto sucked his thumb into his mouth and Jack groaned, shifting in his position on the bed as his own arousal became quite obvious. Thank God for the track suit bottoms, he thought to himself. His own trousers would have been so very uncomfortable at the moment.
"I want you," Ianto announced, hand moving along Jack's thigh. "Bloody injuries. Bloody Owen."
"You're the one who walked off that lift," he scolded, stopping Ianto's hand before it could reach its destination. It was far too tempting to let it continue.
"Yes, but I'd not have thought to do so if not for his endless badgering."
Jack smiled, squeezing Ianto's hand. After he'd told Ianto the basic details the day before, the younger man had begun to remember the evening, and it had been a little surprising to Jack to see him amiable with the good doctor that morning. He knew, however, that Ianto didn't actually blame his drinking buddy. He was well aware of his own actions and responsibilities.
"When you're better I want to revisit that promise of no biting," Jack said, changing the subject.
"Always making me wait," replied Ianto with a dramatic sigh, a smirk playing on his lips.
"I'm worth the wait."
"I know you are, sir."
"Do you also know how incredibly dirty it is to hear you say 'sir' when I just got you off?"
"I might, sir," Ianto teased, biting that lip again.
Jack growled, moving around the bed until he could crawl in beside his gorgeous Welshman, tugging the covers up over them both and snuggling carefully. "First opportunity," he threatened, "you're so going to get it."
"Promises, promises," whispered Ianto, eyes closing. "Sir."