Ficlet: Suited
Feb. 26th, 2026 05:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
badly_knittedTitle: Suited
Author:
badly_knittedCharacters: Jack, Ianto.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 647
Spoilers: Fragments.
Summary: Torchwood Three wasn’t hiring, but somehow Jack has ended up with a new employee anyway, and young Mr Jones does look good in a suit.
Written For:
topaz_eyes’s prompt ‘Any, any, everyone’s crazy about a sharp-dressed man’, at ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
threesentenceficathon.Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Jack had absolutely not been looking to recruit anyone else into his Torchwood Three team; the ones he already had were all he needed, three people whose lives he was putting on the line almost daily. He’d never wanted so much responsibility, had even tried to manage by himself after Alex had dropped the job into his lap, leaving Jack alone to cope with the fallout.
So no, adding another team member had never crossed Jack’s mind, even when his team were stretched a little thin, as they so often were. The four of them could manage just fine. So what if the Hub was drowning in rubbish, no one could find anything, and they drew straws every morning to decide which of them would be handling the day’s coffee and lunch runs? It might not have been the most efficient way to run things, but it worked well enough.
What all that boiled down to was that there were no vacancies at Torchwood Three. That was especially the case with regards to survivors of the Canary Wharf massacre who seemed to think Torchwood owed them somehow, because none of what had happened in London had been Jack’s fault. The whole nightmare had only happened because Hartman and Torchwood One had refused to listen to reason and had messed with things they didn’t understand. They did it to themselves, and as far as Jack was concerned, everybody at One was if not guilty, at the very least complicit in the events that got most of them killed. He wasn’t taking on any of the survivors, no matter how much they stalked him.
He'd held firm right up until he’d been offered a Pterodactyl, because how could he turn down the opportunity to have a living prehistoric flying reptile gliding around the upper reaches of the Hub? Yes, he was weak. So what? Didn’t everyone want a dinosaur? And yes, maybe it wasn’t only the dinosaur he wanted, because the man offering it was more than worth a second look too.
So now Torchwood Three has a new employee, a General Support officer, someone to keep the place tidy, clean out and feed the inmates, do the filing, provide coffee and food, pick up the dry cleaning, carry out maintenance on both the base and the team’s vehicle… You get the picture. Or perhaps you don’t, at least not fully, because…
Ianto Jones, all tailored three-piece suit and tie, and buttoned up perfection, is temptation on a plate to Jack’s eyes. His appearance now is completely different to the rent boy look he’d sported on their first meeting, and the casual jeans and jacket he’d been wearing when he’d first offered Jack a mug of that divine nectar he called coffee.
Jack has never been one to believe the clothes make the man, although as any conman, or ex-conman, will tell you, the proper outfit can make practically anyone believe you are who you’re pretending to be. Even so, he has to admit that as sexy as Jones was in his other clothes, he looks especially divine in a suit that, if Jack’s any judge, looks made to measure. It certainly can’t be off the rack; Jack may not be an expert, but he can still recognise quality when he sees it.
Watching Ianto moving through the Hub with fluid grace, elegance and efficiency personified, makes Jack’s mouth water and his fingers itch. He longs to slowly peel his new employee out of his suit, one layer at a time, and find out exactly what he’s hiding under that wool and silk blend, the crisp cotton shirt, and the understated but perfectly knotted tie. All he’s waiting for now is the go ahead from young Mr Jones. As much as he’s relishing the anticipation and the verbal foreplay, Jack hopes he won’t be kept waiting for too long.
The End
So no, adding another team member had never crossed Jack’s mind, even when his team were stretched a little thin, as they so often were. The four of them could manage just fine. So what if the Hub was drowning in rubbish, no one could find anything, and they drew straws every morning to decide which of them would be handling the day’s coffee and lunch runs? It might not have been the most efficient way to run things, but it worked well enough.
What all that boiled down to was that there were no vacancies at Torchwood Three. That was especially the case with regards to survivors of the Canary Wharf massacre who seemed to think Torchwood owed them somehow, because none of what had happened in London had been Jack’s fault. The whole nightmare had only happened because Hartman and Torchwood One had refused to listen to reason and had messed with things they didn’t understand. They did it to themselves, and as far as Jack was concerned, everybody at One was if not guilty, at the very least complicit in the events that got most of them killed. He wasn’t taking on any of the survivors, no matter how much they stalked him.
He'd held firm right up until he’d been offered a Pterodactyl, because how could he turn down the opportunity to have a living prehistoric flying reptile gliding around the upper reaches of the Hub? Yes, he was weak. So what? Didn’t everyone want a dinosaur? And yes, maybe it wasn’t only the dinosaur he wanted, because the man offering it was more than worth a second look too.
So now Torchwood Three has a new employee, a General Support officer, someone to keep the place tidy, clean out and feed the inmates, do the filing, provide coffee and food, pick up the dry cleaning, carry out maintenance on both the base and the team’s vehicle… You get the picture. Or perhaps you don’t, at least not fully, because…
Ianto Jones, all tailored three-piece suit and tie, and buttoned up perfection, is temptation on a plate to Jack’s eyes. His appearance now is completely different to the rent boy look he’d sported on their first meeting, and the casual jeans and jacket he’d been wearing when he’d first offered Jack a mug of that divine nectar he called coffee.
Jack has never been one to believe the clothes make the man, although as any conman, or ex-conman, will tell you, the proper outfit can make practically anyone believe you are who you’re pretending to be. Even so, he has to admit that as sexy as Jones was in his other clothes, he looks especially divine in a suit that, if Jack’s any judge, looks made to measure. It certainly can’t be off the rack; Jack may not be an expert, but he can still recognise quality when he sees it.
Watching Ianto moving through the Hub with fluid grace, elegance and efficiency personified, makes Jack’s mouth water and his fingers itch. He longs to slowly peel his new employee out of his suit, one layer at a time, and find out exactly what he’s hiding under that wool and silk blend, the crisp cotton shirt, and the understated but perfectly knotted tie. All he’s waiting for now is the go ahead from young Mr Jones. As much as he’s relishing the anticipation and the verbal foreplay, Jack hopes he won’t be kept waiting for too long.
The End
