My Memories Versus Your Memories
Ttile: My Memories Versus Your Memories
Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones
Pairings: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Word count: 900
Spoilers: I don't think so
Warnings: AU because Ianto lives
Disclaimer: Neither the song, nor Torchwood and certainly not the characters used belong to me. (They belong to people who didn't know how to use them). Torchwood belongs to BBC Wales & Russell T. Davies.
My Memories Versus Your Memories
Memories, just like dreams, are tricky things ready to consume those who feel strong enough to re-enact them inside their minds. Ianto knows that better than most. Memories usually hurt; they take his soul and squeeze it until there’s nothing left but bad memories to screw up his present. And not only his own, but Jack’s as well have been added to the sum lately. There are times retcon seems really, really a very nice option except for all the damage it could cause to his brain. And Ianto is very fond of his brain just the way it is.
Jack stands on top of a high building thinking of his past. Things eventually start to blur and he wonders for how long will his memory work just fine, how many moments has he forgotten without even realising it. It’s a thought that surprises him and makes him want to go back to his first ever memory and create an image so vivid that he’ll never forget. That’s out of the question, but Jack has to keep on hoping. Best teacher is his past, bringing his mistakes forward, reminding him of all the wrong choices he has made and nudging him towards the right direction; Jack’s total present disregard of the very nice teachings of his past notwithstanding.
*
Ianto is held in his arms but Jack can tell his mind is miles away. “What are you thinking?”
“The first time I met you.”
“Oh I remember. Those jeans! You were good enough to eat.”
“Actually that wasn’t the first time I met you, Jack. It was summer of ’93 and you saved me from a human eating alien…”
“What?” Jack turned Ianto in his arms to look at him. “I don’t remember.”
“I don’t expect you to. I’m certain you saved many kids over the years. It was a huge green-violet thing with fangs and it wanted to eat me. It bit my shoulder.”
“Didn’t I retcon you?”
“Well, you did, but the first time I saw an alien in London my memory was gladly resurfaced. How do you think I ended up in Torchwood in the first place?”
“I can’t believe I can’t remember this.”
“Well, you were my knight in his not so shining coat!” Ianto smirked as he leansed up to kiss Jack, while the older man could see his lover was not as happy as he pretended to be. He kissed back in attempt to take away the sadness.
*
Ianto finds Jack sitting on his desk furiously typing on his keyboard. “I think this is the first time I see you doing your paperwork so diligently,” Ianto says resting Jack’s cup of coffee on the desk.
“Well, it’s not paperwork,” Jack replies without raising his head.
“I really should have known.” Ianto steps around the desk and sits on the desk on Jack’s left side to look at what he writes. “This isn’t English. As a matter of fact, what is it?”
“Hm…My language.”
“You type your language in a 21st century computer? I’m impressed!” Ianto is really excited and starts thinking of ways he can make Jack teach him his native language.
“My computer has certain modifications,” Jack says absentmindedly.
“I can tell.”
Jack keeps writing and Ianto just sits there waiting for Jack to see him. Instead of that, Jack pulls a notebook from his third -locked- drawer and pushes it to him. “Take this. Read it when you find the time.”
“What is it?”
“Read it, Ianto.”
And Ianto does. He goes down to his archives and instead of doing his work he reads Jack’s notes; Jack’s memories about his life back at home. And if he feels his eyes stinging for a few seconds he doesn’t care.
Later that night, wrapped around Jack, he asks. “Why are you writing about your life?”
“Because I think I’ll forget it. And I don’t want to forget anything, Ianto. I don’t want for the day to come that I won’t remember you.”
Ianto tightens his arms around his lover and lets the trembling subside.
*
“It’s nice isn’t it?” Jack’s arms were wrapped tightly around Ianto’s waist as he peered over his shoulder at the city’s lights.
Ianto smiled. “I never thought we’d come here again. Thank you.” He turned to his left to kiss Jack’s cheek.
“It’s been too long, hasn’t it?”
“Yes. And is as beautiful as I remember.”
“What do you remember?”
Ianto pointed to the north. “There was the restaurant we went for dinner. You were nervous and I kept wondering what could be wrong with you. Then that waiter spilled the wine over my shirt making you angry.”
“You grabbed my hand and said it was nothing.”
“It was nothing, Jack.”
“Yes, well, I loved that shirt.” Ianto could feel Jack’s pout on his shoulder.
“And then, walking home, two weevils attacked us. And the shirt was unquestionably ruined.”
Jack turned Ianto around still holding him tightly. “But when we went home, I could finally ask you.”
“Indeed. And here we are ten years later roaming at the streets of Cardiff…”
“I was partial to making love in the room of the hotel, but whatever rocks your boat.”
“Shut up, Jack”
“Oh oh, if I knew you’d be abusive I’d never ask you to marry me.”
Ianto kissed Jack soundly, reminding him just how they had celebrated the marriage proposal a decade ago.
A/N: I think I wrote fluff. I'm not certain though...
Happy Birthday to badly_knitted, Queen of Fluff!
Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones
Pairings: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Word count: 900
Spoilers: I don't think so
Warnings: AU because Ianto lives
Disclaimer: Neither the song, nor Torchwood and certainly not the characters used belong to me. (They belong to people who didn't know how to use them). Torchwood belongs to BBC Wales & Russell T. Davies.
My Memories Versus Your Memories
Memories, just like dreams, are tricky things ready to consume those who feel strong enough to re-enact them inside their minds. Ianto knows that better than most. Memories usually hurt; they take his soul and squeeze it until there’s nothing left but bad memories to screw up his present. And not only his own, but Jack’s as well have been added to the sum lately. There are times retcon seems really, really a very nice option except for all the damage it could cause to his brain. And Ianto is very fond of his brain just the way it is.
Jack stands on top of a high building thinking of his past. Things eventually start to blur and he wonders for how long will his memory work just fine, how many moments has he forgotten without even realising it. It’s a thought that surprises him and makes him want to go back to his first ever memory and create an image so vivid that he’ll never forget. That’s out of the question, but Jack has to keep on hoping. Best teacher is his past, bringing his mistakes forward, reminding him of all the wrong choices he has made and nudging him towards the right direction; Jack’s total present disregard of the very nice teachings of his past notwithstanding.
*
Ianto is held in his arms but Jack can tell his mind is miles away. “What are you thinking?”
“The first time I met you.”
“Oh I remember. Those jeans! You were good enough to eat.”
“Actually that wasn’t the first time I met you, Jack. It was summer of ’93 and you saved me from a human eating alien…”
“What?” Jack turned Ianto in his arms to look at him. “I don’t remember.”
“I don’t expect you to. I’m certain you saved many kids over the years. It was a huge green-violet thing with fangs and it wanted to eat me. It bit my shoulder.”
“Didn’t I retcon you?”
“Well, you did, but the first time I saw an alien in London my memory was gladly resurfaced. How do you think I ended up in Torchwood in the first place?”
“I can’t believe I can’t remember this.”
“Well, you were my knight in his not so shining coat!” Ianto smirked as he leansed up to kiss Jack, while the older man could see his lover was not as happy as he pretended to be. He kissed back in attempt to take away the sadness.
*
Ianto finds Jack sitting on his desk furiously typing on his keyboard. “I think this is the first time I see you doing your paperwork so diligently,” Ianto says resting Jack’s cup of coffee on the desk.
“Well, it’s not paperwork,” Jack replies without raising his head.
“I really should have known.” Ianto steps around the desk and sits on the desk on Jack’s left side to look at what he writes. “This isn’t English. As a matter of fact, what is it?”
“Hm…My language.”
“You type your language in a 21st century computer? I’m impressed!” Ianto is really excited and starts thinking of ways he can make Jack teach him his native language.
“My computer has certain modifications,” Jack says absentmindedly.
“I can tell.”
Jack keeps writing and Ianto just sits there waiting for Jack to see him. Instead of that, Jack pulls a notebook from his third -locked- drawer and pushes it to him. “Take this. Read it when you find the time.”
“What is it?”
“Read it, Ianto.”
And Ianto does. He goes down to his archives and instead of doing his work he reads Jack’s notes; Jack’s memories about his life back at home. And if he feels his eyes stinging for a few seconds he doesn’t care.
Later that night, wrapped around Jack, he asks. “Why are you writing about your life?”
“Because I think I’ll forget it. And I don’t want to forget anything, Ianto. I don’t want for the day to come that I won’t remember you.”
Ianto tightens his arms around his lover and lets the trembling subside.
*
“It’s nice isn’t it?” Jack’s arms were wrapped tightly around Ianto’s waist as he peered over his shoulder at the city’s lights.
Ianto smiled. “I never thought we’d come here again. Thank you.” He turned to his left to kiss Jack’s cheek.
“It’s been too long, hasn’t it?”
“Yes. And is as beautiful as I remember.”
“What do you remember?”
Ianto pointed to the north. “There was the restaurant we went for dinner. You were nervous and I kept wondering what could be wrong with you. Then that waiter spilled the wine over my shirt making you angry.”
“You grabbed my hand and said it was nothing.”
“It was nothing, Jack.”
“Yes, well, I loved that shirt.” Ianto could feel Jack’s pout on his shoulder.
“And then, walking home, two weevils attacked us. And the shirt was unquestionably ruined.”
Jack turned Ianto around still holding him tightly. “But when we went home, I could finally ask you.”
“Indeed. And here we are ten years later roaming at the streets of Cardiff…”
“I was partial to making love in the room of the hotel, but whatever rocks your boat.”
“Shut up, Jack”
“Oh oh, if I knew you’d be abusive I’d never ask you to marry me.”
Ianto kissed Jack soundly, reminding him just how they had celebrated the marriage proposal a decade ago.
A/N: I think I wrote fluff. I'm not certain though...
Happy Birthday to badly_knitted, Queen of Fluff!