Summary: Ianto is ever so clueless but, luckily, Gwen can be equally as stubborn.
Author's Notes:This fic has been harassing me for days and it’s past one in the morning, so I’m giving it a test run. Might be edited later; might also remain how it is. Depends on how I feel about it in the morning.
This is a five-times type of story, and the title of each one is based off of an article on the Internet. I found the idea rather intriguing and decided to give it a go.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and, as always, feedback is appreciated!
Also posted on AO3.
1. Take him to the dance floor.
“Ianto, you coming?”
Ianto lifted his head from his most recent project and saw Gwen lingering by the door as Tosh and Owen tumbled out. “I think I’ll pass, thanks,” he replied with a smile.
“Oh, come on, you never do!” She coaxed and approached him, resting her palms on his desk. “Jack’s in London for that UNIT thing anyway. What’re you gonna do here all alone?”
“Work?” Ianto suggested, but she was having none of it.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” Gwen said. “You’ll come with us and if you don’t enjoy it, I’ll never molest you about socialising again.”
“Ever?” Ianto asked, a little doubtful.
“If you don’t enjoy it,” she repeated; a sly glint in her eye.
And really, he couldn’t see the harm. Maybe he would really have fun, and however it went, it would still beat working through the night to fight his insomnia.
“Fine, then,” he sighed and took his jacket.
An hour later and already in the club they’d all agreed on, Ianto had to admit that he wasn’t having that bad of a time. He’d never bothered to learn to dance anything besides waltz and his experience at dancing in places such as this one mostly included writhing against someone else but, luckily, that seemed to be exactly what Gwen wanted from him. His hands were resting in the small of her back and her arms were loosely wrapped around his neck. She was pressing herself closer to him than it would have been strictly appropriate, but they were both a bit pissed and the dance floor was packed with people and Ianto realised that he actually sort of liked it anyway, so it wasn’t really a problem.
2. Give him a sneak peek.
“So!” Ianto did his best not to jump when he heard Gwen’s voice behind him. “Slacking off, are ya?”
Ianto smiled and bowed his head slightly in the affirmative. “Supposedly buying lunch, if we have to be specific. But yeah, that too.”
The breeze coming from the sea was surprisingly odour-free and Ianto had found that he enjoyed it greatly compared to the chaos that currently reigned in the Hub. Torchwood Two had decided about two weeks ago that their warehouses couldn’t handle the load of technology they had and had graciously dumped it in Cardiff. Very little sunlight had been seen since then while the entire team took to cataloguing every little thing. They’d got used to it by now – Owen and Tosh would combine efforts to test everything, Gwen would put it in the database, Jack would provide any protection necessary – be it gloves or explosives, if he deemed it more dangerous than useful – and Ianto would catalogue whatever was left.
“Boring, isn’t it?” Gwen continued, leaning onto the rail that looked towards the bay.
“Yeah. We find some neat stuff too, though,” Ianto said absently and then frowned. He greatly suspected that the rest of the team wouldn’t let her get out of working just to chat. He, at least, had the excuse of bringing food. “Are you leaving?”
“Mm. Dinner out with Rhys in half an hour. I’ve been meaning to ask you, actually; what do you think?”
“Of?” Ianto turned to look at her – really look at her for the first time today – and his eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Is that a good oh or a bad oh?”
It was definitely a good oh. Gwen was dressed in a tight red shirt and a leather jacket, which would have been perfectly typical for her if it hadn’t been for the indecently short denim skirt and knee-high leather boots. She shifted the shirt around a bit and Ianto caught the smallest hint of a coral pink lace under it. He gulped.
“You look great,” Ianto said sincerely and Gwen seemed to either ignore or not mind the fact that he was trying to make eye contact somewhere vaguely south from her jaw. “The boots are a nice touch.”
“Not too much for a restaurant, is it?” Gwen stepped back so he could give her a proper once over.
“You should be fine,” he conceded at last. “Just don’t bend more than twenty degrees in any direction.”
Ianto grinned broadly when she slapped his arm and felt his smile soften as she got on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Really, though, you’re beautiful.”
Gwen gave him a bright smile. “Thank you!”
Ianto nodded curtly, looking away again, this time with purpose. They’d got close over the past few months and they knew each other better now, and it kind of irked him that she kept treating him like her gay best friend. Did she really expect him not to react to such a display?
“You’re welcome.” He accepted the hug when she offered it and then watched her go. She’d looked disappointed, somehow, and he wasn’t sure why. Had he said something wrong?
With the indistinct, nagging thought that he was missing something, Ianto sighed and headed towards the Chinese restaurant.
3. Flatter his physique.
If there was something that everyone in Torchwood agreed to, it was the fact that Jack’s monthly urges to lead them into the training rooms of the Hub were unnecessary. They fought outside every day; what was the point? There was no hiding from it, however, and they had decided that the faster it ended, the better. That had led them to where they were now.
Ianto jumped down from the ladder and landed on his feet just steadily enough to run to the other end of the room and climb the unsteady pile of discarded mattresses where the supposed finish line was.
“Show off,” Gwen said as soon as he hopped on top next to her. It had been her turn right before him and she was supposed to have left, but Ianto didn’t feel like objecting. “You don’t get to brag about being the fastest one just because your legs go on forever.”
“Oh, you’re making me blush,” Ianto retorted cheerfully and accepted the towel she handed him to wipe his face. They’d been in here for hours already and they’d gone through every aspect of physical training imaginable. Sometimes he suspected that Jack just missed the military too much.
He frowned when he threw the towel aside and found Gwen staring at him. “What is it?”
“Have you been working out?”
He had, actually, and it was rather satisfying to know that she’d noticed, but he wasn’t going to let her know that.
“Yes, as you might have noticed.” He hadn’t even finished his sentence before Gwen rolled her eyes at him. “I was doing just that until two minutes ago.”
“I didn’t mean that,” she shot back, trailing an absent finger down one of his biceps. “You just seem– different.”
“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Ianto returned carefully.
“It was,” Gwen assured and then sighed. “Well, back to work, right?”
“Right,” Ianto echoed before climbing down and offering her a hand. “Shall we?”
Gwen smiled. “Of course. My knight in shining... Armani.”
Ianto raised an eyebrow, daring her to continue. It wasn’t that he was looking for trouble, but he’d been getting mixed signals from her and wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react.
Gwen laced her fingers with his and led him back on the way to the Hub.
Maybe some other time, then.
4. Initiate long, lingering touches.
“Right, then,” Ianto said, passing her the bowl full of dough with the decisiveness of someone who knew what he was doing – and they both knew that right now, he was anything but that. Gwen looked down at it in disdain. “We just need to fix this and it’ll be fine.”
“Ianto, we’re trying to make a pizza from scratch,” she said delicately. “If we can’t deal with the dough, we’re pretty much screwed.”
“And then Owen’ll turn out to be right,” Ianto reminded. “Do you want that happening?”
He looked all too fierce for someone who had been merely accused of unable to turn the over on without fucking up, and Gwen had defended him only to have her ego taken in a size as well. It was notorious that both of them stayed firmly away from the kitchen for a very good reason and that Ianto’s unimaginable coffee skills ended pretty much with that – coffee.
“He’s right no matter how this ends,” she informed him darkly. “We’re shit cooks and everyone knows it, so it’s probably time to admit it. Maybe we can call Tosh to help us.”
“She was the one who blew up the toaster last time she tried to make herself breakfast,” Ianto said, shaking his head in panic. “Never again. Look, we can make this work, okay?”
“You really are a sore loser, aren’t you?” Gwen asked, tossing the – thankfully plastic – bowl back on the small table in the kitchenette. When Ianto ignored her, she decided to take the initiative. After all, she’d been trying to get what she wanted for months now and, if Ianto was going to keep being just as oblivious, she would have to be just a little more forward anyway.
“I think I have an idea,” she said and Ianto turned to face her, face immediately brighter. She took his hand in her, trying to focus on the task instead of how big his palms were and how his calloused fingers felt against her skin. “I think you need to sort of massage it, see?”
She placed his hands over the dough and squeezed them in her own, trying to plaster as much of their bodies together as possible.
“Yeah,” Ianto said, a little shakiness to his usually even tone. “I think I’ve got it now.”
Gwen smiled as she felt the subtle change of the meaning; the double entendre lurking just beneath the surface like it usually did with anything he said.
Well, it was about time.
5. Show him your best side.
For someone who tended to take the initiative over so many things, Ianto was surprisingly shy when it came down to business. Either that, or he was trying to be a gentleman, which Gwen doubted greatly.
His kisses were slow and gentle and there was something strangely charming about his seeming naiveté. Gwen was well-aware that it was probably a role he liked to play for most of his lovers, but it didn’t matter; not when she finally had him where she wanted him.
They’d chosen his flat for lack of a better place, and Gwen definitely wasn’t complaining. The bed was king-sized and the lights were off, a single candle – placed strategically on the nightstand by Gwen herself – was the only thing that illuminated the room. Ianto was a vague silhouette made of shadows and sharp angles and she knew that she looked the same to him – probably right down to the hungry look their eyes reflected into one another.
She’d worked enough for this moment. She deserved it. They both did.
“Are you sure?” Ianto asked, voice soft like velvet. Always the thinker. “Things could get complicated.”
“It’s us,” she reminded him. “I think it’s always been complicated.”
And, when Ianto laughed, she swallowed his joy with a kiss.