Characters: Jack, Ianto, OC.
Summary: Jack has always been able to get his own way in all things…
Word Count: 725
Content Notes: None necessary.
Written For: Challenge 45 – Immune at beattheblackdog.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Jack had lots of ways to wheedle what he wanted out of people. If direct orders didn’t work, he could always fall back on the time-honoured tactic of flirting, something he’d always had a natural talent for. Many were the times he’d softened up some intransigent bureaucrat with nothing more than compliments and the devastating effects of his smile. He could turn even the most hardened old battleaxe to putty in his hands; it was just a matter of exploiting the universal desire everybody has to feel attractive and interesting, and Jack had rarely had any trouble finding something attractive in any being he met.
On those rare occasions when flirting proved ineffective, or was deemed inappropriate, Jack had other weapons in his arsenal, sometimes literally. Of course, threatening people only worked if you had the hardware and the will to back it up, but nobody could ever doubt that Jack was prepared to follow through with any threats he might make. He could be utterly terrifying when he turned off the charm.
When none of the above worked, which almost never happened, there was one final range of tactics Jack could employ, namely begging and pleading. He’d long since perfected the pout and the puppy dog eyes; in fact when he really tried he could look positively pathetic. Dropping to his knees and clasping his hands together as if in prayer took the whole performance up another level, and he was quite prepared to even resort to grovelling if the occasion demanded it.
In short, when he wanted something, he was willing to do whatever it took to get it, and he’d always succeeded. Until now.
“Get up, Jack, the floor’s filthy and you’re ruining your trousers. You’d better not be expecting me to take them to the dry cleaners for you. And stop pouting, you’re supposed to be an adult, although sometimes I wonder; if you’re not careful your face might stick like that, and then where would you be?”
“Don’t ‘but Ianto’ me. I said no and I meant it. It’s about time you learned that you can’t always have everything you want.”
Jack pouted harder and even tried fluttering his eyelashes in what he hoped was a winsome manner. “Pleeeease? He’s so cute!”
“No, Jack, you are not keeping the baby sloth and that’s final. Myfanwy would eat him given half a chance, and besides, he’ll be much better off with his own kind. Now say goodbye so he can be taken to a place where he can be cared for properly.” Ianto glared down at Jack, arms folded across his chest and a stern expression on his face.
“You’re a big meanie,” Jack pouted, reluctantly getting up and dusting his trousers off before turning to his temporary pet. He gave a heavy sigh; foiled yet again. It was just his luck he’d fallen in love with the one person in the universe completely immune to each and every one of his tried and tested methods for getting his own way. “Bye, Slowly, be good, I’ll miss you.” Big, round, innocent eyes looked back at him and Jack swallowed the lump in his throat. “They will look after him, won’t they?” he asked, voice wobbling a bit.
“It’s a sloth sanctuary, Jack. They’ll look after him a lot better than you could, and with any luck one day he’ll be able to go back to the wild where he belongs.”
“It won’t be the same around here without him!”
Ianto rolled his eyes. “He’s only been here three hours! How you get attached to creatures so quickly is beyond me!”
“Just look at that little face! How can you not love it?”
“I’m not denying it’s cute, but Torchwood isn’t a good place for endangered earth species, and you know it.” Ianto kept the stern, uncompromising expression on his face as Jack mournfully waved goodbye to Slowly, and then led the way back indoors.
Saying ‘No’ to Jack was often hard to do, but Ianto knew he had to be the practical and responsible one, putting the needs of other creatures, not to mention Torchwood itself, above his lover’s often whimsical and wayward desires. It would never do for Jack to find out that he was nowhere near as immune to his lover’s tactics as he pretended to be.