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Jack Harkness had seen a lot of planets.
By the 51st century, humanity had stretched its roots across the galaxies like an infection, or a miracle, depending on who you asked. Adaptable to the point of ridiculousness, they'd colonised hellscapes that most aliens wouldn't touch with a ten-foot space pole. Planets with acid rain, six moons that screwed with the tides and vegetation so deadly most intelligent species would wither away just looking at it funny.
There was an old saying, where Jack came from, 'If there was a rock to stand on and a way to breathe, some human somewhere would pitch a tent and call it home.'
And yet, for all the places he'd seen, for all the times he'd been to, none of it compared to Earth.
Sol 3. The original hellscape, home of humanity.
It always amazed him how a species could evolve on a planet that was trying so hard to kill them. Tsunamis, hurricanes, tectonic plates that constantly shifted like they had somewhere better to be, not to mention the predators. Humans started off as soft, squishy things, outmatched in almost every way by the wildlife around them.
And yet they thrived.
And the worst of them? The most insane? The absolute wildest humans Jack had ever met? They came from 21st century Earth.
Jack grinned to himself. He wasn't easily impressed. He'd been reckless in his time; arrogant, stubborn, fast with a smile and faster with a gun. He had been, after all, a conman first, a Time Agent second. But even he had nothing on these people. They were brave in a way he could never quite wrap his head around. Brave and stupid and brilliant.
And none more than Ianto Jones.
God, Ianto Jones.
Jack let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. What was it about him? He wasn't normal, that was for certain. Jack could spot normal from a mile away. Normal broke under pressure. Normal panicked when things went sideways. Normal didn't flirt with him over coffee while casually covering up a Cyberwoman in the basement.
Normal people did not, under any circumstances, wrangle a goddamn pterodactyl.
Ianto Jones was unhinged.
Twenty-three years old. Sharp suit, charming smile, endless sass. Polite, efficient, deadpan. The man was a walking contradiction. A proper little butler with the mouth of a sailor. A gentle soul with a dark streak buried so deep you'd only catch glimpses of it when the world was burning.
Jack could deal with contradictions. He'd seen them before. Hell, he was one, but Ianto Jones was something else.
A little shit. A bitch.
And the most insane creature he had ever met.
Jack had known him for a year now. Had spent a good six months of that underestimating him. It was easy to do. Ianto made it easy, all quiet competence and pressed shirts. Standing in the background, keeping things running. He never raised his voice. Never demanded attention.
Then Lisa happened.
And Jack finally understood that Ianto wasn't all that harmless.
He was something else entirely. A mystery wrapped in good tailoring and deadpan humour. A contradiction in every way; gentle and ruthless, kind and cruel, a sweetheart with a sharp tongue.
A little freak, really, and Jack adored him.
And speak of the devil…
The Captain glanced up as Ianto strolled into the Hub, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie slightly loosened, office casual by Ianto's standards, which meant he looked about two degrees away from hosting a dinner party for royalty.
He crossed the hub quietly, and settled at his desk without so much as a glance towards Jack's perch on the catwalk above.
There was something ridiculous about him like this, really, Jack thought as he looked down at him. Wrangling paperwork with the same intensity he once used to beat a Weevil half to death with a rugby trophy. A walking contradiction.
Jack grinned. "You know," he called down, "most people clock off at five. Go home. Watch a bit of telly. Maybe take up knitting."
Ianto didn't look up. "And yet, here you are. Loitering."
"Oh, I'm working." Jack pushed off the railing, hands sliding into his pockets as he strolled down the steps. "Supervising, actually."
"Supervising?" Ianto snorted. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
Jack raised an eyebrow. "What would you call it?"
"Leering." Ianto didn't miss a beat. "Borderline harassment, depending on the angle."
Jack let out a low chuckle. God, he loved this. The back-and-forth, the dry humour that shouldn't have been so attractive but absolutely was. Ianto Jones could reduce a man to ashes with a single raised eyebrow, and Jack loved the burn.
"I don't leer." He leaned casually against Ianto's desk, invading his space with a practised ease. "I appreciate. I admire."
"You stare."
"I admire intensely."
Ianto finally looked up, arching one immaculate eyebrow. "And is there a reason you're admiring intensely while I'm trying to finish the Rift report? Or is this just another one of your desperate cries for attention?"
Jack laughed under his breath. "You think I'm desperate?"
"I think you're bored because the rest of the team has gone home early." Ianto clicked his pen, deadpan as ever. "And I think you're about ten seconds away from staging some kind of elaborate tragedy just so I'll stop working."
Jack tilted his head, pretending to think about it. "I could get kidnapped. Held at gunpoint, maybe. You'd have to come rescue me."
Ianto didn't even blink. "I'd let them keep you."
Jack barked a laugh. "Liar."
"Am I?" Ianto went back to his paperwork, lips twitching slightly. Jack could see it, that little hint of a smile he tried so hard to hide. "Could finally get a decent night's sleep without you pawing at me every five minutes."
Jack leaned closer, voice dropping. "You'd miss me."
"And you'd miss me," Ianto shot back, dry as bone.
Jack opened his mouth, ready to flirt back, ready to push, but something in the way Ianto said it made him pause.
He wasn't wrong.
Jack blinked, smile softening just a little. "Yeah," he admitted. "I would."
Ianto finally looked up again. That sharp, calculating gaze, the one that could flay a man alive, softened just slightly. Just enough for Jack to see the person underneath. Not the suit, not the competence, but Ianto.
"Well," Ianto said after a beat. "Good thing I'm not going anywhere."
Jack grinned. "Damn right you're not."
They held each other's gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Comfortable. Easy. Jack wanted to say something, something meaningful, maybe, something true, but it wasn't the time. Not yet.
Instead, he straightened up, hands sliding casually into his pockets. "So. Your place tonight?"
Ianto raised an eyebrow. "That depends."
"On?"
"On whether or not you plan on stealing my shower again in the morning."
Jack gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offence. "Stealing? I prefer to think of it as… requisitioning."
"You hog all the hot water."
"I'm a man of many needs, Ianto." He winked, "besides, you can always just join me."
Ianto sighed, scribbling something on the Rift report before setting his pen down with a decisive click. Then he stood, smoothing out his shirt, and fixed Jack with an unreadable look. "Fine. But if you drink the last of my coffee again, I'm putting rat poison in the sugar."
Jack smirked. "Wouldn't kill me."
"No, but it'd be funny."
Jack laughed, throwing an arm around Ianto's waist as they made their way out of the Hub. Ianto didn't shrug him off, simply tugging him on a slight detour to collect the Greatcoat on the way, eyes heated in a way that promised a good night.
Yeah. Unhinged.
And Jack wouldn't change a damn thing.