Drabble requests
I really shouldn't write when I feel sick. I go weird. Weirder than usual (and if somebody wants to explain how I got sick from a salad, I'm all ears). The usual 'you don't have to like it and I won't be offended if you tell me' rule applies. Sorry it took so long!
mylodon asked for Horatio & Archie and nitcombs. This is somehow both and neither.
Horatio's hands were steady only by strict command as he opened sea chest and began to pack away the miscellany that had been so reflective of Archie's personality - a copy of Shakespeare, a bible bound in leather and various knick-knacks that seemed more frivolous than not.
A comb was last, given pride of place if such an object could bear the prestige. Memories of Archie's fingers combing through his hair, brushing away knots and parasites came flooding back.
And it would be nothing more than a memory unless the lost jolly boat circled the world and drifted back to England's waters.
qthelights asked for Jack/Ianto and blue. This is both Jack/Ianto and blue, but it's not a drabble. Let's all pretend I offered ficlets instead of focusing on my inability to stick to 100 words.
It rained on the way back to Cardiff. The countryside passed by in streaks of darkness, blurred and distorted into shadowy monsters by the droplets of water battering the SUV's windows. There were drugs rushing through Ianto's veins, mingling and meshing with the adrenaline that was slowly seeping out of his body and somehow tilting his world on an angle that seemed all too difficult to bear.
He was cold.
He shouldn't have been surprised; pressed up against the door of the SUV with his head bumping against the window every time Jack failed to navigate his way through the minefields that were Wales' rural roads, Ianto was desperately trying to keep what little space he could between his body and Tosh's. He'd apologise in the morning, by means of that sickeningly sweet syrup Tosh liked in her coffee and expensive chocolate biscuits but for the moment he wanted nothing more than to block out the world around him.
Staring at the darkness outside, Ianto allowed himself to be lulled into a state of half-sleep, mostly aware of his surroundings but focussed on nothing other than the pinprick of red that danced in front of him every time he took a breath.
*
"We're here."
Ianto jumped, squeezing his eyes shut to ward off the pain that sparked through him. "What?" he muttered, blinking blearily at Jack and trying to muster up the energy to move.
"You're home." Jack offered a hand which Ianto refused, choosing pride over comfort at least until he made it through the front door. He was tired, and in pain, and Jack was standing close enough behind him to warrant a comment or two if his brain hadn't shut down all functions beyond the formation of single syllable words. Pride was all he had left.
"C'mon." Ianto shuffled down the hallway towards his bedroom.
*
In his bedroom, Ianto stood by the window and watched the last of the raindrops slide down the panes of glass and fall away to the ground. He turned, slowing his movement when pain rippled through his body, and switched on the lamp on his bedside table.
"Nice," Jack said appreciatively, his eyes following the beams of light cast across the room by the coloured lampshade and then frowning in concern when Ianto flinched away from the light. "Are you sure you want it on?"
Ianto hummed his assent, and without thinking, turned and buried his face in the juncture of Jack's neck and shoulder in a rare show of outward affection. "I like it. It's blue" he murmured, his voice dazed and muffled against Jack's neck. "Like you."
Jack pulled away, a frown creasing his face. "What?"
"The lamp is blue. You're blue," Ianto explained with steady assurance, despite the way the world swam in and out of focus with every breath he took. "Like the sea."
"Are you saying I'm wet?" There was a strange look on Jack's face, one Ianto couldn't have deciphered even if he could see more than a haze of light and shadow. It was something more than the usual forbidding glare or the flirtatious leer; it was almost as if Jack was looking into Ianto and seeing himself reflected.
"No." Ianto shook his head and immediately regretted it, a puffed breath of pain escaping from his mouth before he could rein it in. He wrapped his fingers tightly around Jack's braces, not caring that it was only his grip on the thin elastic that kept him on his feet. "You're calm and you're rough and turn as quickly as the tide and sometimes I think… I think you go on forever."
Ianto's eyes were sliding shut even as Jack lowered him down onto the bed but he managed to hear Jack's reply, barely more than a murmur and with a hitch that couldn't be smoothed over by the rasp of a whisper: "You have no idea."
mylodon asked for Horatio & Archie and nitcombs. This is somehow both and neither.
Horatio's hands were steady only by strict command as he opened sea chest and began to pack away the miscellany that had been so reflective of Archie's personality - a copy of Shakespeare, a bible bound in leather and various knick-knacks that seemed more frivolous than not.
A comb was last, given pride of place if such an object could bear the prestige. Memories of Archie's fingers combing through his hair, brushing away knots and parasites came flooding back.
And it would be nothing more than a memory unless the lost jolly boat circled the world and drifted back to England's waters.
qthelights asked for Jack/Ianto and blue. This is both Jack/Ianto and blue, but it's not a drabble. Let's all pretend I offered ficlets instead of focusing on my inability to stick to 100 words.
It rained on the way back to Cardiff. The countryside passed by in streaks of darkness, blurred and distorted into shadowy monsters by the droplets of water battering the SUV's windows. There were drugs rushing through Ianto's veins, mingling and meshing with the adrenaline that was slowly seeping out of his body and somehow tilting his world on an angle that seemed all too difficult to bear.
He was cold.
He shouldn't have been surprised; pressed up against the door of the SUV with his head bumping against the window every time Jack failed to navigate his way through the minefields that were Wales' rural roads, Ianto was desperately trying to keep what little space he could between his body and Tosh's. He'd apologise in the morning, by means of that sickeningly sweet syrup Tosh liked in her coffee and expensive chocolate biscuits but for the moment he wanted nothing more than to block out the world around him.
Staring at the darkness outside, Ianto allowed himself to be lulled into a state of half-sleep, mostly aware of his surroundings but focussed on nothing other than the pinprick of red that danced in front of him every time he took a breath.
*
"We're here."
Ianto jumped, squeezing his eyes shut to ward off the pain that sparked through him. "What?" he muttered, blinking blearily at Jack and trying to muster up the energy to move.
"You're home." Jack offered a hand which Ianto refused, choosing pride over comfort at least until he made it through the front door. He was tired, and in pain, and Jack was standing close enough behind him to warrant a comment or two if his brain hadn't shut down all functions beyond the formation of single syllable words. Pride was all he had left.
"C'mon." Ianto shuffled down the hallway towards his bedroom.
*
In his bedroom, Ianto stood by the window and watched the last of the raindrops slide down the panes of glass and fall away to the ground. He turned, slowing his movement when pain rippled through his body, and switched on the lamp on his bedside table.
"Nice," Jack said appreciatively, his eyes following the beams of light cast across the room by the coloured lampshade and then frowning in concern when Ianto flinched away from the light. "Are you sure you want it on?"
Ianto hummed his assent, and without thinking, turned and buried his face in the juncture of Jack's neck and shoulder in a rare show of outward affection. "I like it. It's blue" he murmured, his voice dazed and muffled against Jack's neck. "Like you."
Jack pulled away, a frown creasing his face. "What?"
"The lamp is blue. You're blue," Ianto explained with steady assurance, despite the way the world swam in and out of focus with every breath he took. "Like the sea."
"Are you saying I'm wet?" There was a strange look on Jack's face, one Ianto couldn't have deciphered even if he could see more than a haze of light and shadow. It was something more than the usual forbidding glare or the flirtatious leer; it was almost as if Jack was looking into Ianto and seeing himself reflected.
"No." Ianto shook his head and immediately regretted it, a puffed breath of pain escaping from his mouth before he could rein it in. He wrapped his fingers tightly around Jack's braces, not caring that it was only his grip on the thin elastic that kept him on his feet. "You're calm and you're rough and turn as quickly as the tide and sometimes I think… I think you go on forever."
Ianto's eyes were sliding shut even as Jack lowered him down onto the bed but he managed to hear Jack's reply, barely more than a murmur and with a hitch that couldn't be smoothed over by the rasp of a whisper: "You have no idea."