51stcenturyfox | Fic: "Three Proverbs" Ianto/Tosh, Jack/Tosh R

Title: Three Proverbs
Author:

51stcenturyfox
Pairing: Ianto/Tosh, Jack/Tosh
Wordcount: 1,930
Summary: A proverb (from the Latin proverbium) is a simple saying popularly known and repeated, which expresses a truth based on the practical experience of humanity. These are three of Toshiko's moments of truth.
Rating: R
A/N: Series 1 and 2 references. Thank you to

copperbadge , who beta'ed this HARD. This is for

amand_r (ribbon!)

Shoujiki wa saizen no saku
Honesty is the best policy

In the beginning, it was all odd and wrong. Everything. Toshiko was seeing things, living things, she never thought she'd experience. At first, she thought: I'm here because I've been coerced. She was a metronome on the outside and a wobbly pendulum within, swinging erratically between gratitude and resentment. She hadn't wanted to rot in a UNIT jail in solitary but outside those walls, her life still wasn't her own. She wasn't free. Home to Hub to home and over again, every day.

"I'd like to run out, get some tights," she'd said to Jack one morning, a week after she'd taken the deal. Jack looked up from his leather-bound notebook, placed his pen alongside it and knitted his fingers against his chin before looking up.

"Are you asking me or telling me, Toshiko?" He'd queried.

Tosh swallowed. "It's - I've got a ladder. The chemist's isn't far. I'll be right back."

Jack stood then, walked to her and placed his large hand on her shoulder, rested it there, lightly, smiled, too white and bright. "You don't have to ask permission to leave during the workday, Toshiko. As long as you're coming back."

*

She worked late, every night. She had a flat; it was comfortable and tidy and pretty. It had been picked out for her, but she'd been given a generous pay advance to furnish it as she liked. It was very, very quiet. At first, after having been locked in a cell, she'd reveled in the space, but Tosh soon craved familiar voices within earshot: Jack's laughter, Suzie's wickedly flirtatious interactions with Owen, and Ianto's low, calm tones.

When she'd finally go home, she would read or play on her laptop and fall asleep with the television on low. She didn't even glance at the screen.

She nearly killed a man while speeding on her bicycle along the quay on a summer Sunday afternoon, and after she helped him to his feet and fell over herself apologising, he smiled and asked her out for a coffee. They had nothing in common, but the sex was good. Months later, she met someone else in the produce aisle and was delighted to discover he taught Physics at Cardiff University. The conversation was fantastic but the sex was terrible. She finally stopped returning his calls.

There had been a light snow one Friday in January, and the streets were dusted with white. Ianto caught her easily when her boot heel slid and hooked on the kerb in front of the pub, then took her hand in his and insisted on walking her to her flat. She felt warm and safe, despite the bite in the air. When they reached her street, she'd asked him in for a nightcap, and if he'd hesitated - if he'd said, "No, thanks, but I'm just too tired" - she would have understood. He hadn't, though, and she was glad. Glad because she was tired again of being alone in the still air of her living room with Vegas Nights flickering on the television screen and too many takeaways eaten standing in the kitchen by herself.

They sat on the sofa and after a few silent sips of whisky, she kissed him first - just a dry warm press of flesh to the corner of his mouth, until he'd turned slightly and kissed her back. He'd kept his hands at his sides. When she finally pulled away, they laughed because it just... wasn't right. Ianto opened his mouth to say something but her finger landed on his lips and she shook her head. It's okay.

"It's just... I lost someone. At Canary Wharf," Ianto said.

She told him things then - stories about her mother and how she'd come to work at Torchwood (she'd seen the CCTV recordings, so already knew about the coffee cup on the boardwalk). He told her about growing up in Newport, and about his dad, and Rhi. There were things Ianto left out. There were things Tosh didn't mention either.

She showed him her artwork - page after page of exquisite charcoal sketches, and Ianto promised they wouldn't be left to rot in a box if anything happened to her.

Yowarime ni tatarime
When it rains, it pours

He knew she wouldn't run away, or quit. Not because Torchwood could find her again, and they would, and Torchwood could be ruthless, but because he knew she was already hooked and getting higher. High on the tech, high on the pile of blued steel and odd shapes with metal tags on them stamped with serial numbers.

"What do you think this is?" Jack asked her one day as he pulled an object from a box and cupped it in both hands.

"Flux capacitor?" she'd joked.

"And this?"

"Laser gun?" "Neutron bomb?" "Time machine?"

And he'd laughed as he shook his head at the last guess. "Those don't exist."

Something in his voice made her want to ask where he'd go if he had something like that, but there were jokes and then there were questions, and Jack Harkness really didn't care much for questions.

*

When they returned to Cardiff from the Beacons, they dropped Owen off first and he hesitated after opening the back door of the SUV. One foot on the pavement, he'd leaned in for a whispered conference with Gwen and she piled out of the vehicle behind him. He muttered something about "changing the dressings... proper alcohol. No. Proper alcohol..." and they strode up the walkway to his building without a glance back.

"Okay," Jack said after his eyes found hers in the rear-view mirror. When they arrived at Tosh's flat he'd got out and opened her door, unbuckled her seat belt and led her from the SUV with both hands in his. Ianto had gathered their duffel bags and followed, still numb. In shock, perhaps. No one was to spend this night alone.

They'd taken their turns washing away the dirt and blood, Tosh insisting Ianto go first as she put the kettle on and fussed with laundry. When she alighted from the shower she'd found Ianto asleep in her bed. Jack sat up and silently pulled her to the mattress with them. She fell asleep with her wet hair still soaking into the front of his t-shirt.

When she awoke to the sound of a crash and muffled curses from the kitchen, Ianto pulled the duvet over both of them and began to kiss her. This time, it was right. Perfect, in fact. At one point, facing the wrong way on her bed with Ianto's face between her thighs, she spied Jack in the doorway. He backed out holding two steaming mugs, his expression inscrutable.

Afterward, they found the eggs had gone cold and congealed; nobody wanted them. Jack scraped them into the kitchen bin and took them out for fish and chips. They were all famished.

Koketsu ni irazunba koji wo ezu
Nothing ventured, nothing gained

Toshiko caught Gwen's bridal bouquet, of course. Gwen had developed excellent aim.

*

The film on DVD had ended and flipped back to the menu screen as the theme tune cycled endlessly. Stiff-jointed and cold after an unplanned doss on the floor, she raised her chin and blinked away the blur of an unsettling but half-forgotten dream. Something about walking through cobwebs and doorbells.

"Toshiko!" The bell zinged, followed by a barrage of beats, a palm on the wood, then a key turned and she heard her name again."Toshiko."

Tosh lifted her head and brought herself up on one elbow. Was that... Jack? She blinked at his entry - a rush of blue - and checked the digital clock on the DVD player. "It's half two."

"You didn't answer your comm," Jack said as she peered up at him, confused.

"Because I was asleep. Is something going on? The rift?" She asked, as she got to her knees and pulled a red pyjama top down over her bare thighs.

"No." Jack glanced at his own watch. Even though he loomed above her, he seemed... small all of a sudden. Unsure, even. "No, nothing's wrong."

"What..."

"Ianto and Owen cleared the evidence at the hotel. You left right after the reception. I wanted to check on you."

"M'fine. I'm fine. Could do with some tea now, though. Sit down?" Tosh padded into the kitchen and pulled out a kettle, filled it. Jack stood on the other side of the breakfast bar, watching, before shedding his coat and perching on the edge of the sofa. His eyes travelled, took in the sprightly bouquet and the photo album cracked open on the coffee table.

"Toshiko?"

"Mmhmm." She stood next to him and proferred a mug. Jack took it and held it in both hands, grateful.

"Why did you leave?"

"Long day, wasn't it? I was there first with the gown. Had a chat with Gwen. Then found myself slime-glued to Banana Peel."

"Boat."

"Sorry?"

Banana Boat."

"Yes. Him. Unpleasant."

"I imagine," Jack laughed into a loud sip. "But you had fun at the reception."

"It was all right."

"You danced. Owen danced."

"We did." Tosh sat on the sofa next to Jack and nudged the photo album forward to carefully place her mug on a magazine atop the greenish plane of glass.

"I almost retconned them, Gwen and Rhys." Jack said, quietly.

"I know. I figured Gwen wouldn't be having that," she laughed.

"No. I mean... all the way." Tosh, awake now, stared at him as he continued: "Back."

"That would have been-"

"Wrong. Completely wrong. I know."

"More than wrong, Jack. Horrible." Tosh tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and picked up her mug. "Would you do that to me? To Ianto?" Owen was beyond the reach of retcon -- his memories sturdier than the body he could no longer feel.

"No," Jack said, deliberately. He plucked a loose white ribbon from the bottom of the wedding bouquet drying and dying on the table and pulled it taut between his fingers before capturing her wrist and tying a loose bow around it. He took the mug from her and set it down, then pulled her back on the sofa and turned her body to the side, facing away.

Tosh felt a gentle pressure on her shoulders... his palms, warm and large. When his thumbs moved up to the nape of her neck and began to circle and press, she dropped her head forward and relaxed. But not too much.

"Breathe, Toshiko."

"I always breathe," she retorted.

"I don't."

A moment later, her shoulders began to shake with silent laughter and she felt the press of Jack's forehead between them.

"Are you okay, Jack?" Tosh asked. His arms encircled her in reply.

"I am."

"Is Ianto?"

"He's... he's fed up with aliens. And tired, I think. It's just... the wedding. He'll be better for a good night's sleep."

"I'm tired as well." Tosh said, though she was suddenly and completely not.

"I'm sorry I woke you," Jack apologised.

She paused.

"Should I go?" Jack asked as he brushed aside the hair at the nape of her neck and pressed his lips to the skin there. Tosh hesitated as his thumb slid to trace the lacy band at the front of her black cotton knickers.

"I don't want- "this... if it's meant to be a pity shag, she finished, to herself.

"Oh?" Jack murmured, breath hot on her shoulder as his hands travelled south. Tosh bit her lip. "Kudasai," he whispered. Please.

"Stay," she said, her voice remarkably steady. "I insist."