FIC: Check Your Stubbornness at the Door
Title: Check Your Stubbornness at the Door (Red Is My Colour Prompt for Day Thirty-one)
Author: blue_fjords
Rating: R
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Words: 1,700
Setting: season two, between KKBB and Sleeper
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: The aftermath of the infamous Date.
A/N: 31 fics in 31 days! Hot damn and hallelujah, I finished! Thanks everyone for reading and encouraging me to keep going!
Prompt: picture of a snowy cottage w/ a red door
Jack followed Ianto inside, and paused so he could lift the greatcoat from his shoulders. Ianto slipped off his shoes, and Jack hurriedly bent to untie his boots. “I’ll make us some coffee,” Ianto informed him, arms full of outerwear.
Jack nodded his thanks and wandered further into the flat.
He had been there before, of course. It was just, circumstances were different now. They had just gone on a date. A real one, offered, accepted, and accomplished. Now he was planning to spend the entire night at Ianto’s flat. He had never slept over at Ianto’s flat before. The closest he’d come were the six hours he’d stayed in bed with Ianto at the hotel, the (re-done) night he’d gotten back from travelling with the Doctor. In the five days since, Ianto had stayed with him at the Hub, going back to his flat before dawn for fresh suits or to catch a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Jack could hear Ianto in the kitchen, taking refuge in making the coffee. It was not that the date had gone poorly; far from it, actually. Sure, there’d been some slight awkwardness at the restaurant when a tiny old lady had stared at them as they sat close together, heads bent over the menu. Ianto had flushed an angry red until Jack had reached over and run his thumb over his knuckles. The tiny old lady had stared at them again over dessert, though Jack couldn’t really blame her then. He would have stared, himself - Jack’s tongue was halfway down Ianto’s throat and Ianto’s cheeks had turned a lovely shade of rose.
They had talked over dinner, too. Ianto had told him a few stories of things they’d done while he was away, and instead of making him feel bad for having left, they made him proud of how well his team had held together. Jack had told no stories of his most recent travels, but had regaled Ianto with a few hijinks from when he had just started training with the Time Agency. All things considered, it had been a rather mundane date. And now there was nothing for it but to spend the night. Jack checked his watch. Nearly ten hours before he absolutely had to be back at the Hub, at least eight before he could graciously excuse himself.
Jack sat on the edge of the settee, fiddled with a pillow, and stood back up. He paced over to the mantel. Ianto had put up a few pictures there since the last time Jack had been to his flat. Or maybe he hadn’t noticed before, too eager to stretch him out on the settee and too quick to leave in the middle of the night. There was a picture of a young Ianto, red balloon tied around his wrist and opposite hand clutching that of an older man that looked so much like his Ianto that Jack did a double-take. There was one of a girl, maybe five or six, in a field of flowers. She looked a bit like Ianto, too. The third photo made Jack smile. It was of his team, minus Ianto himself. He must have taken the picture, but Jack couldn’t place when. The last photo had no people in it. It was of a winter cottage with a red door.
“Coffee’s ready.”
Ianto joined him by the mantelpiece, holding out a fresh cup of coffee. Jack smiled as he took it, and sipped it slowly. Ianto cleared his throat.
“Would you like to sit down?”
Jack nodded, and sat in one corner of the settee. Ianto hesitated the barest of a fraction, and then settled into the opposite corner. They drank their coffee in silence.
Jack’s mind was awhirl with things he could say, things he should be doing, things he really wanted to be doing to Ianto, but he sat there as if paralyzed. He was going to be there the entire night. Ianto was expecting it.
His eyes wandered over to the other man. Ianto was looking ahead, somewhat contemplatively, and drinking his coffee. Jack opened his mouth to say something witty, and closed it. He opened it to say something lewd, and closed it again. He opened it to say something deep, and closed it with a snap. Ianto looked over at him.
“Did you like the pictures?” he asked, nodding towards the mantel.
“Yes!” Jack exclaimed, anxious to say something.
Ianto smiled slightly. Jack liked to watch his lips form a smile. They moved so slowly, until the corners lifted his cheeks, and Jack wanted to reach out and pinch those cheeks, lick those lips. He probably could later; he was going to be there all night, after all.
“The first one is me and my da, after a Saturday at this old cinema we used to go to. The second is my cousin, she’s passed on. The third you remember, and the fourth is a cottage that belonged to my aunt and uncle. I went there once, as a child.”
Jack nodded, hoping Ianto didn’t want to talk about the third photo as he really could not recall when it’d been taken. Probably before last Christmas. They’d had some good times as a team before Christmas, and then things had gone downhill with the arrival of John, Diane and Emma. He settled on the cottage as a safe topic.
“So where’s this cottage?” he asked, taking another sip of his coffee. He should go more slowly; he was almost done.
“Up north.”
Ianto abruptly drained his mug, and moved across the settee to Jack. Jack barely had time to breathe a sigh of relief as Ianto straddled him. Ianto’s mouth was on his, breath pungent with the smell of coffee, but Jack’s smelled the same. He parted his lips for Ianto’s tongue and pulled his body closer. This was sex, and Jack could handle sex. His fingers tugged nimbly at Ianto’s belt buckle as his toes pulled down Ianto’s socks and flicked them off. That was one of his oldest moves, perfected even before he had left Boeshane, and he was quite proud of the speed with which he did it. He pulled off his own socks the same way, and dropped Ianto’s belt over the side of the settee. Ianto’s mouth was moving down his neck, Ianto’s fingers were fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. Jack helped by slipping out of his braces, and cursed softly when his arm was temporarily caught by his shirt and braces both trying to come off at the same time. Ianto leaned forward to help him, and their foreheads clunked loudly. Ianto sat back, clutching at his head. His cheeks were flushed, lips swollen; his shirt was half undone and hopelessly wrinkled; his trousers were unbuttoned. Jack wanted to take him right there. He moved along the settee, divesting himself of the offending shirt and braces, but Ianto swung his legs down to the floor and stood up.
“I want to go to bed.”
Jack stopped cold. The Bed. Where he would be expected to sleep all night. He sighed, and got to his feet, too, holding out his hand to Ianto.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Apparently he hadn’t sighed quietly enough, because Ianto stared at his hand like it was a loaded pistol.
“I don’t want you to come to bed with me like it’s some kind of obligation.”
“It’s not!” Jack said quickly. Much too quickly. Ianto frowned. Backpedaling, Jack dug himself even further into that hole. “I’ve been looking forward to it - you, the bed, all night, what’s not to like?”
Ianto took a step backwards. “You asked me on this date.”
“I did! And things were going nicely; don’t you think they were going nicely?” Shit, Ianto’s face was smooth, but Jack could tell he was hurt by the shadow in his eyes. Jack fumbled for a way to recover.
“Let’s just sit back down. You can tell me more about the pictures. Where up north is this cottage? What’s it like inside? When’s the last time you went?”
“I don’t want to talk about the fucking cottage, Jack,” Ianto said in a tight voice.
Jack sighed in exasperation. He couldn’t help it. “Look, I said I’d spend the night - ”
“I didn’t ask you to!” Ianto interrupted him. “Since when have I ever asked you for anything?!”
Jack paused. “Okay. This was a bad idea. I’m going to go.” He started to look around on the floor for his discarded clothes. “I’ll see you at the Hub tomorrow.”
Ianto made a small noise, and Jack glanced up. Ianto’s arms were crossed, and he was staring sightlessly at his mantelpiece, jaw clenched. Jack felt like an utter shithead, but he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to want to stay the night. He wanted Ianto to ask him to stay the night. Just ask me, and I’ll do it, he begged silently.
“You’re leaving again, then?” Ianto asked, clipped voice and not looking at him.
Jack sat back on his heels and looked up at him, the set of his shoulders, the way his fingers were digging into his skin.
“Ianto,” he said softly. “Please look at me.” He waited until Ianto was. “I want you to want me to stay, and then I’ll want to stay, too. Please ask something of me.”
Ianto looked at the floor, then back at him. “Stay.”
Jack nodded. “Okay. Let’s go to bed, then.”
There were definite benefits to staying the night, Jack decided, much later. For starters, Ianto’s bed was very comfortable and the rungs of his headboard were perfect for gripping as Ianto slowly fucked him (or was that made love - Jack would have to figure it out later). Also, Ianto was warm and a much better blanket than his own. Jack actually fell asleep for a few hours. And no blanket had ever woken him up at 3 in the morning by kissing his neck and pulling at his nipples so that Jack was half-hard before he was fully awake. But to his surprise, Jack found that the best thing about staying the night was the look on Ianto’s face in the morning, when he woke up to Jack’s arms still around him.
Author: blue_fjords
Rating: R
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Words: 1,700
Setting: season two, between KKBB and Sleeper
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: The aftermath of the infamous Date.
A/N: 31 fics in 31 days! Hot damn and hallelujah, I finished! Thanks everyone for reading and encouraging me to keep going!
Prompt: picture of a snowy cottage w/ a red door
Jack followed Ianto inside, and paused so he could lift the greatcoat from his shoulders. Ianto slipped off his shoes, and Jack hurriedly bent to untie his boots. “I’ll make us some coffee,” Ianto informed him, arms full of outerwear.
Jack nodded his thanks and wandered further into the flat.
He had been there before, of course. It was just, circumstances were different now. They had just gone on a date. A real one, offered, accepted, and accomplished. Now he was planning to spend the entire night at Ianto’s flat. He had never slept over at Ianto’s flat before. The closest he’d come were the six hours he’d stayed in bed with Ianto at the hotel, the (re-done) night he’d gotten back from travelling with the Doctor. In the five days since, Ianto had stayed with him at the Hub, going back to his flat before dawn for fresh suits or to catch a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Jack could hear Ianto in the kitchen, taking refuge in making the coffee. It was not that the date had gone poorly; far from it, actually. Sure, there’d been some slight awkwardness at the restaurant when a tiny old lady had stared at them as they sat close together, heads bent over the menu. Ianto had flushed an angry red until Jack had reached over and run his thumb over his knuckles. The tiny old lady had stared at them again over dessert, though Jack couldn’t really blame her then. He would have stared, himself - Jack’s tongue was halfway down Ianto’s throat and Ianto’s cheeks had turned a lovely shade of rose.
They had talked over dinner, too. Ianto had told him a few stories of things they’d done while he was away, and instead of making him feel bad for having left, they made him proud of how well his team had held together. Jack had told no stories of his most recent travels, but had regaled Ianto with a few hijinks from when he had just started training with the Time Agency. All things considered, it had been a rather mundane date. And now there was nothing for it but to spend the night. Jack checked his watch. Nearly ten hours before he absolutely had to be back at the Hub, at least eight before he could graciously excuse himself.
Jack sat on the edge of the settee, fiddled with a pillow, and stood back up. He paced over to the mantel. Ianto had put up a few pictures there since the last time Jack had been to his flat. Or maybe he hadn’t noticed before, too eager to stretch him out on the settee and too quick to leave in the middle of the night. There was a picture of a young Ianto, red balloon tied around his wrist and opposite hand clutching that of an older man that looked so much like his Ianto that Jack did a double-take. There was one of a girl, maybe five or six, in a field of flowers. She looked a bit like Ianto, too. The third photo made Jack smile. It was of his team, minus Ianto himself. He must have taken the picture, but Jack couldn’t place when. The last photo had no people in it. It was of a winter cottage with a red door.
“Coffee’s ready.”
Ianto joined him by the mantelpiece, holding out a fresh cup of coffee. Jack smiled as he took it, and sipped it slowly. Ianto cleared his throat.
“Would you like to sit down?”
Jack nodded, and sat in one corner of the settee. Ianto hesitated the barest of a fraction, and then settled into the opposite corner. They drank their coffee in silence.
Jack’s mind was awhirl with things he could say, things he should be doing, things he really wanted to be doing to Ianto, but he sat there as if paralyzed. He was going to be there the entire night. Ianto was expecting it.
His eyes wandered over to the other man. Ianto was looking ahead, somewhat contemplatively, and drinking his coffee. Jack opened his mouth to say something witty, and closed it. He opened it to say something lewd, and closed it again. He opened it to say something deep, and closed it with a snap. Ianto looked over at him.
“Did you like the pictures?” he asked, nodding towards the mantel.
“Yes!” Jack exclaimed, anxious to say something.
Ianto smiled slightly. Jack liked to watch his lips form a smile. They moved so slowly, until the corners lifted his cheeks, and Jack wanted to reach out and pinch those cheeks, lick those lips. He probably could later; he was going to be there all night, after all.
“The first one is me and my da, after a Saturday at this old cinema we used to go to. The second is my cousin, she’s passed on. The third you remember, and the fourth is a cottage that belonged to my aunt and uncle. I went there once, as a child.”
Jack nodded, hoping Ianto didn’t want to talk about the third photo as he really could not recall when it’d been taken. Probably before last Christmas. They’d had some good times as a team before Christmas, and then things had gone downhill with the arrival of John, Diane and Emma. He settled on the cottage as a safe topic.
“So where’s this cottage?” he asked, taking another sip of his coffee. He should go more slowly; he was almost done.
“Up north.”
Ianto abruptly drained his mug, and moved across the settee to Jack. Jack barely had time to breathe a sigh of relief as Ianto straddled him. Ianto’s mouth was on his, breath pungent with the smell of coffee, but Jack’s smelled the same. He parted his lips for Ianto’s tongue and pulled his body closer. This was sex, and Jack could handle sex. His fingers tugged nimbly at Ianto’s belt buckle as his toes pulled down Ianto’s socks and flicked them off. That was one of his oldest moves, perfected even before he had left Boeshane, and he was quite proud of the speed with which he did it. He pulled off his own socks the same way, and dropped Ianto’s belt over the side of the settee. Ianto’s mouth was moving down his neck, Ianto’s fingers were fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. Jack helped by slipping out of his braces, and cursed softly when his arm was temporarily caught by his shirt and braces both trying to come off at the same time. Ianto leaned forward to help him, and their foreheads clunked loudly. Ianto sat back, clutching at his head. His cheeks were flushed, lips swollen; his shirt was half undone and hopelessly wrinkled; his trousers were unbuttoned. Jack wanted to take him right there. He moved along the settee, divesting himself of the offending shirt and braces, but Ianto swung his legs down to the floor and stood up.
“I want to go to bed.”
Jack stopped cold. The Bed. Where he would be expected to sleep all night. He sighed, and got to his feet, too, holding out his hand to Ianto.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Apparently he hadn’t sighed quietly enough, because Ianto stared at his hand like it was a loaded pistol.
“I don’t want you to come to bed with me like it’s some kind of obligation.”
“It’s not!” Jack said quickly. Much too quickly. Ianto frowned. Backpedaling, Jack dug himself even further into that hole. “I’ve been looking forward to it - you, the bed, all night, what’s not to like?”
Ianto took a step backwards. “You asked me on this date.”
“I did! And things were going nicely; don’t you think they were going nicely?” Shit, Ianto’s face was smooth, but Jack could tell he was hurt by the shadow in his eyes. Jack fumbled for a way to recover.
“Let’s just sit back down. You can tell me more about the pictures. Where up north is this cottage? What’s it like inside? When’s the last time you went?”
“I don’t want to talk about the fucking cottage, Jack,” Ianto said in a tight voice.
Jack sighed in exasperation. He couldn’t help it. “Look, I said I’d spend the night - ”
“I didn’t ask you to!” Ianto interrupted him. “Since when have I ever asked you for anything?!”
Jack paused. “Okay. This was a bad idea. I’m going to go.” He started to look around on the floor for his discarded clothes. “I’ll see you at the Hub tomorrow.”
Ianto made a small noise, and Jack glanced up. Ianto’s arms were crossed, and he was staring sightlessly at his mantelpiece, jaw clenched. Jack felt like an utter shithead, but he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to want to stay the night. He wanted Ianto to ask him to stay the night. Just ask me, and I’ll do it, he begged silently.
“You’re leaving again, then?” Ianto asked, clipped voice and not looking at him.
Jack sat back on his heels and looked up at him, the set of his shoulders, the way his fingers were digging into his skin.
“Ianto,” he said softly. “Please look at me.” He waited until Ianto was. “I want you to want me to stay, and then I’ll want to stay, too. Please ask something of me.”
Ianto looked at the floor, then back at him. “Stay.”
Jack nodded. “Okay. Let’s go to bed, then.”
There were definite benefits to staying the night, Jack decided, much later. For starters, Ianto’s bed was very comfortable and the rungs of his headboard were perfect for gripping as Ianto slowly fucked him (or was that made love - Jack would have to figure it out later). Also, Ianto was warm and a much better blanket than his own. Jack actually fell asleep for a few hours. And no blanket had ever woken him up at 3 in the morning by kissing his neck and pulling at his nipples so that Jack was half-hard before he was fully awake. But to his surprise, Jack found that the best thing about staying the night was the look on Ianto’s face in the morning, when he woke up to Jack’s arms still around him.