Word Count: 31,421
Prompt: Wedding Crashers
Pairings/Characters: Jack/Ianto, John/Tosh, Harold Saxon/Gwen, Jake/Ace, some Grey/Ianto, Owen/Andy, Doctor/Martha and others
Summary: Jack and John made a career out of crashing weddings looking for quick hook-ups, but one wedding changes everything when they meet Ianto and Tosh. Everything they know changes; have they finally found their perfect matches?
Warnings: Language and sexual scenes
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or the movie Wedding Crashers.
Jack was hard at work in his office, going over some important paperwork when John came sauntering in and made himself comfortable in the other chair; in his hands is a newspaper.
“Jack, I am holding the Kentucky Derby of wedding announcements!” John exclaimed, waving the paper in the air.
Not looking up from his work, Jack asked, “I thought we were done for a while?”
“This is different. This is the Minster of the fucking Defence!!” John was practically vibrating with infectious excitement.
This gained Jack’s attention. “Saxon?” He didn’t sound very happy.
“Yes, Saxon’s daughter, Ace! London!” John couldn’t understand why his friend wasn’t happier about the news.
An unenthusiastic sound escaped Jack’s lips as he refocused on his work, and that was the last straw for John. “What’s wrong with you?” he leapt to his feet and demanded loudly. “This is the Saxon’s! They’re an institution! We’ve never crashed anything like this! Five hundred single men and women. Three live bands! Oysters, for god sake!” John slapped his hand down on the desk, trying to get his point across.
Jack sighed before mumbling out, “Okay.”
John just stared down at his friend. “Okay? Okay! See? This is what I’m talking about!” He really didn’t understand what was going on with his friend.
“I’m tired, all right? My feet hurt. My voice is horse. I’m tired of eating the same food and dancing to the same songs every weekend.” Jack complained.
“You don’t care about this anymore!” John cried, very overdramatically.
Jack stared at his friend like he was crazy. “What are you talking about? Of course I care!” Jack cried back.
John had a disbelieving look on his face as he shook his head. “At the Swanson nuptials, you were in the corner, sulking!” He recalled the wedding perfectly.
“I wasn’t sulking! I twisted my ankle.” If there was one thing Jack Harkness didn’t do it was sulk.
John leaned forward and reminded his friend of the basics. “Rule six: Don’t sit in the corner and sulk. It draws attention in a negative way. Draw attention to yourself on your own terms!”
“I know the rules, John!” Jack didn’t understand why his colleague felt the need to remind him of the rules that he knew by heart.
“When Archie gave us his sacred rules of wedding crashing twelve years ago, he passed on a legacy; he trusted us to carry on the tradition.” John spoke passionately. “We have a responsibility here, not to just Archie’s memory, but to future generations of crashers to come.”
Jack gave his friend a look that spoke volumes, and not all of them were good. “You know, you make it sound like a cult. Archie was a kook!” He spoke his opinion.
“Bite your tongue! He was not a kook! He was a brave and decent man!” John snarled angrily; he would not allow Jack to insult such a brilliant man.
Jack shook his head as he began to point out, “He lived with his mother until he was forty! Even she couldn’t take it! She tried to poison his oatmeal! ”
“That was never proven!” John protested. “And anyway, what about rule three? Rule three, Jack!”
Jack immediately knew where the conversation was going. “Oh, come on, John, not that again!” Seriously, he had made one little mistake and John wouldn’t let it go.
John continued on like Jack hadn’t even spoken, “Rule three: Toast in the native language if you know the native language and have practiced the toast. Do not wing it! Never wing it! Last week when you toasted the groom in Hindi…”
It was John’s turn to be cut off. “Okay! So I got a couple of words mixed up. Big deal!” Jack was quick to point out.
“A couple of the words mixed up?! You told the entire wedding party that the bride was very lucky because her new husband smelled like the anus of the cobra!” John raised an eyebrow to unbelievable heights as he reminded Jack of his big mistake.
Jack admitted that he had made a rather substantial mistake at that wedding. “I meant he had the power… of the… cobra! Okay?! … anyway I managed to turn that into a compliment, did I not?!” Jack demanded his voice rising to match John’s.
John rolled his eyes. “Oh please…! So, do you want to do this or not?” He crossed his arms and waited; despite the changes in Jack’s attitude lately, John was sure his friend couldn’t turn down a challenge like the Saxon Wedding.
Jack held out his hand. “Fine. Give me the paper.” Jack took the offered newspaper and began reading the announcement that had gotten John so worked up. “All right, well, first of all, I’m not saying it’s impossible, but it is going to require some planning.” Even as he finished speaking, Jack’s mind was already forming a plan.
“There’s my man! He’s back. My man is back!” John cheered.
One week later
Making sure they were out of sight of the wedding guests who were mingling outside of the church, Jack and John were finalising their appearance. They stood side-by-side next to Jack’s car, which was parked just down the street from a very nice old Catholic Church. They checked each other over carefully; they were wearing their tuxes, adjusting their cufflinks, combing their hair, and so on.
“Okay, let’s do our pre-game.” Jack finished his hair before turning to John.
“What’s to know? Big Catholic wedding. Lots of rich fuckers. Hot men and lonely women. We can do this in our sleep.” John ticked off all the points. His eyes gleamed with the excitement of the case.
Jack rolled his eyes and decided to play John’s own game. “Rule one: Always prepare.”
“Fine. What do you have?” John crossed his arms impatiently.
Jack reached into his car and pulled out a slim folder which he handed to John. “A few articles on Saxon’s defence programs; skim them quickly. Also a roster of the key family members. A glossary of sailing terms. Sailing’s like sex to these people.” Jack informed him.
John looked through the papers. “Okay … Harvard … Oxford … Mom’s big with the charities, blah blah blah. Two sons and two daughters, a million foundations. Barf. Puke. Gag. Okay. Got it. What’s our back story?” John asked once he was sure he had the important details down.
“We’re brothers from Cardiff, Wales. We’re venture capitalists.” Jack reached out and tweaked John’s tie.
“Thanks. I’m sick of that one. Why don’t we be from Vermont and … and have, say, an emerging maple syrup conglomerate,” John suggested.
Barely stopping himself from rolling his eyes, Jack just gave John a look that clearly said, ‘that is the stupidest idea ever.’ “Because we don’t know anything about maple syrup,” Jack pointed out.
“I know everything about maple syrup. I love maple syrup.” John couldn’t see why they couldn’t go with his idea for once.
“I love red vines. Does mean we should be the red vine barons?” Jack was struggling to remain patient; sometimes John could be trying.
“Good point.” John had to admit that as usual, Jack was right.
A minute or so later, Jack and John were walking towards the church with confidence. They had their game faces on, and there was a spring in their step; they were more than ready. However, when they caught sight of the two men at the door checking invitations against a list of names as the guests entered the church, the slowed down, and when they saw the other four men in suits and earpieces, they came to an abrupt halt.
“I knew it! UNIT.” Jack had been pretty sure that Harold Saxon would have members of UNIT guarding his daughter’s wedding.
John shrugged, not seeing the big deal. “Yeah. So?”
For a moment Jack could only stare slack-jawed at his best friend, not believing he just said that. “So they don’t tend to mess around, John. They’re trained to use big guns with bullets.” Jack reminded John.
Once again John shrugged and lied through his teeth. “Big deal. I can take bullets.”
Jack held back a laugh at those words. “Oh, please! You won’t even get a flu shot. Maybe we should catch that Portuguese wedding back in Cardiff. They’ll have those sausages you like.” Jack had a feeling that nothing would ever be the same if they went through with this plan.
“Fuck the sausages. We’re hitting this one.” John was being more than a little stubborn. “Everything we’ve done for the last twelve years, all that hard work, has led to this moment.” John was not to be denied crashing this wedding.
“Fine.” Jack gave in; he knew that tone of voice and he knew that John was prepared to crash the ceremony and reception whether Jack was with him or not. “How do you want to get in?”
“Okay. Let me think.” John crossed his arms as he frown, deep in thought, and then he snapped his fingers as an idea came to him. “We’ll do an end run!”
Jack shot that idea down immediately. “Guarded.”
“Shit!” John swore and then came up with his next day. “Hey! We’ll create a disturbance!”
Once again Jack pointed out the holes in John’s idea. “Not with these guys. Disturbances just hype their radar and sharpen their aim.”
“Okay, then, Mr Helpful, whadda you got?” John asked, wondering what Jack could come up with.
Hoping to be hit out of the blue with an idea, Jack scanned the parking lot behind John and watches as a large mini-bus pulled up. A big group of people got out, most likely an extended family and Jack was hit with an idea. “Let’s just rush in with that big group over there.” He nodded his head towards the people milling around; he quickly counted seventeen guests. Two more wouldn’t be noticed.
“A rush?! You want to do a rush?” It was clear that John was less than pleased with this plan.
Jack crossed his arms and glared at his friend. “Yeah, what’s wrong with a rush?” He didn’t see any flaws in his plan nor did he see John coming up with any better ideas.
“It’s amateur hour, buddy. It’s bush league. We’re better than a rush.” John didn’t want to do such an amateur move. Just because he spent his weekends crashing stranger’s weddings and enjoying free food and drink at their receptions didn’t mean he had no sense of pride.
Jack watched as the group starting moving slowly towards the church. “It’ll work.” He was sure of it.
“No!” John was close to stamping his foot like a child. “A rush is how you crash the Journey concert when you’re thirteen. We’re not gonna do a rush. It’s beneath us. We’re craftsmen.” John whined petulantly.
A member of the group pointed to a name on the list and they started to file into the church. Jack was determined that they were not going to lose this chance. “Go!” he ordered, pushing John into the big group and within seconds they successfully entered the church. Jack sent John a smug grin before he began looking around, and his eyes were quickly drawn to a pretty woman in a blue dress was talking to her equally pretty friend; they were pointing to various seats clearly trying to make a decision on where to sit for the best view of the bride.
Jack wandered over to join them, turning on his charm and voicing his opinion, “Ladies, if I may be so bold? I prefer to sit five rows back. Close enough to the altar but far enough back to see the bride’s entrance.” The women smiled at him, clearly encouraging him to go on. “Now, a lot of people go for the aisle. That’s a mistake. You have the whole ‘should I make contact with the bride’ business. You don’t want that; it’s awkward. Fifth row back, second seat in, trust me.” He offered them his most winning smile.
The two women look to the seats he suggested and nodded before the first woman turned to Jack to offer their thanks. “That’s great, thank you so much.”
Jack waited until they were headed towards the seats before going back over to John. “I have to hit the head,” he told him.
John nodded. “Okay. I’ll get us some seats on the groom’s side.” He let Jack know where to look for him.
The two men split up; John wandered off in search of good seats as Jack went in search of the bathroom.