[FanFic] Ink in my Coffee (Epilogue)
Ink in my Coffee
By CS WhiteWolf
.Epilogue
“Did you hear?” Gwen asked, her eyes alight with disbelief as she accosted Jack and Ianto upon their arrival into Torchwood one morning.
“Hear what?” Jack asked with a frown. Ianto shot him a bemused look as Gwen let out a squeal of impatience and grabbed at his hand, dragging him through towards the staff room and shoving him towards the sofa and she groped for the TV remote.
“I cannot believe you’ve not-,” she cut off as Toshiko rushed into the room.
“Have you seen it?” She demanded of Ianto with the same levels of shock and excitement emanating off of Gwen.
“He hasn’t!” Gwen muttered, her voice strained as she flicked through channels faster than the eye could catch.
Ianto smiled, shrugging self-depreciatively as Toshiko shot Ianto a disbelieving look before she hurried to squeeze herself onto one side of the couch. She took up his hand without preamble, all poise gone as she waited in tense anticipation for Gwen to find the channel she was looking for.
“Jesus,” Owen’s voice entered the staffroom before he did, “Who knew the guy had it in him?”
“He hasn’t seen it yet!” Gwen exclaimed with a whine, not taking her eyes off of the television.
Owen gaped at Ianto. “Are you shitting me?”
“Would someone mind telling us what’s going on?” Jack demanded, “And why, for that matter, it apparently revolves around Ianto?”
“Got it!” Gwen crowed in delight as she found one of the apparently elusive news channels, which was streaming the news of a prison break from Fox River Penitentiary.
Ianto’s mouth dropped open in shock as Michael Schofield’s picture came up on the screen as one of the inmates to have escaped just two months after being incarcerated. It wasn’t until the newsreader mentioned that they’d escaped directly from the prison onto Fitz Road that it all just clicked. Ianto found himself grinning in amazement as images of Michael’s elaborately designed tattoo, full of gothic imagery and tales of doing wrong to do right and fighting ones demons suddenly started to make a whole world of sense.
“You know something!” Gwen’s voice rang out suddenly and Ianto snapped his attention to her, a devious little smirk curling his lips.
“Who me?” He asked full of faux innocence. “Surely not!”
Gwen’s eyes narrowed on him, even Jack, Toshiko and Owen had turned to look at him. He laughed lightly and extracted himself from between Toshiko and Jack.
“Would anyone care for some coffee?” He offered, making his way over towards his coffee machine without waiting for any replies, knowing that none of them would ever refuse a cup from him.
He could still hear the news report and listened intently as they passed the story onto a consultant who was trying to theorise how they’d managed the break. More images flashed through Ianto’s mind even as his hands moved automatically over the machine before him, images of patterns in the flesh, of a map in the design, of nights spent tracing those hidden maps with his tongue and fingers and thinking he was seeing it all so clearly when in reality he’d never seen it so clearly as he did now.
Arms wrapped themselves about his waist, and Ianto started to feel the press of Jack’s body against him, catching him out of his daydream.
“Tonight,” Jack promised, purring his words into the space just below Ianto’s right ear, “I’m going to show you the same dedication to detail that you-,” he paused here to flick his tongue out over the lobe of Ianto’s ear, “-showed to that tattoo. I’m going to-,” he blew gently onto the wet patch of skin and delighted in Ianto’s shiver of anticipation, “-kiss every single inch of your body, Mr. Jones.”
He splayed his hands out over Ianto’s belly, petting his way lower and lower till Ianto was squirming to get out of his hold, spilling coffee beans in the process. He cursed, turning a playful glare towards Jack who merely laughed and stepped away, leaning himself against the kitchenette counter and watching as Ianto bent to clean up the spilt beans; his face hot and his breathing slightly uneven even as he tried not to think about Michael and his tattoo.
“And if you still have those sketches…” Jack hinted, leering a grin towards him.
At the implication in Jack’s words, Ianto ended up spilling the coffee beans all over again.
- - -
The End.
[ main | the story | the artwork | notes & thanks ]
- - -
By CS WhiteWolf
.Epilogue
“Did you hear?” Gwen asked, her eyes alight with disbelief as she accosted Jack and Ianto upon their arrival into Torchwood one morning.
“Hear what?” Jack asked with a frown. Ianto shot him a bemused look as Gwen let out a squeal of impatience and grabbed at his hand, dragging him through towards the staff room and shoving him towards the sofa and she groped for the TV remote.
“I cannot believe you’ve not-,” she cut off as Toshiko rushed into the room.
“Have you seen it?” She demanded of Ianto with the same levels of shock and excitement emanating off of Gwen.
“He hasn’t!” Gwen muttered, her voice strained as she flicked through channels faster than the eye could catch.
Ianto smiled, shrugging self-depreciatively as Toshiko shot Ianto a disbelieving look before she hurried to squeeze herself onto one side of the couch. She took up his hand without preamble, all poise gone as she waited in tense anticipation for Gwen to find the channel she was looking for.
“Jesus,” Owen’s voice entered the staffroom before he did, “Who knew the guy had it in him?”
“He hasn’t seen it yet!” Gwen exclaimed with a whine, not taking her eyes off of the television.
Owen gaped at Ianto. “Are you shitting me?”
“Would someone mind telling us what’s going on?” Jack demanded, “And why, for that matter, it apparently revolves around Ianto?”
“Got it!” Gwen crowed in delight as she found one of the apparently elusive news channels, which was streaming the news of a prison break from Fox River Penitentiary.
Ianto’s mouth dropped open in shock as Michael Schofield’s picture came up on the screen as one of the inmates to have escaped just two months after being incarcerated. It wasn’t until the newsreader mentioned that they’d escaped directly from the prison onto Fitz Road that it all just clicked. Ianto found himself grinning in amazement as images of Michael’s elaborately designed tattoo, full of gothic imagery and tales of doing wrong to do right and fighting ones demons suddenly started to make a whole world of sense.
“You know something!” Gwen’s voice rang out suddenly and Ianto snapped his attention to her, a devious little smirk curling his lips.
“Who me?” He asked full of faux innocence. “Surely not!”
Gwen’s eyes narrowed on him, even Jack, Toshiko and Owen had turned to look at him. He laughed lightly and extracted himself from between Toshiko and Jack.
“Would anyone care for some coffee?” He offered, making his way over towards his coffee machine without waiting for any replies, knowing that none of them would ever refuse a cup from him.
He could still hear the news report and listened intently as they passed the story onto a consultant who was trying to theorise how they’d managed the break. More images flashed through Ianto’s mind even as his hands moved automatically over the machine before him, images of patterns in the flesh, of a map in the design, of nights spent tracing those hidden maps with his tongue and fingers and thinking he was seeing it all so clearly when in reality he’d never seen it so clearly as he did now.
Arms wrapped themselves about his waist, and Ianto started to feel the press of Jack’s body against him, catching him out of his daydream.
“Tonight,” Jack promised, purring his words into the space just below Ianto’s right ear, “I’m going to show you the same dedication to detail that you-,” he paused here to flick his tongue out over the lobe of Ianto’s ear, “-showed to that tattoo. I’m going to-,” he blew gently onto the wet patch of skin and delighted in Ianto’s shiver of anticipation, “-kiss every single inch of your body, Mr. Jones.”
He splayed his hands out over Ianto’s belly, petting his way lower and lower till Ianto was squirming to get out of his hold, spilling coffee beans in the process. He cursed, turning a playful glare towards Jack who merely laughed and stepped away, leaning himself against the kitchenette counter and watching as Ianto bent to clean up the spilt beans; his face hot and his breathing slightly uneven even as he tried not to think about Michael and his tattoo.
“And if you still have those sketches…” Jack hinted, leering a grin towards him.
At the implication in Jack’s words, Ianto ended up spilling the coffee beans all over again.
- - -
The End.
[ main | the story | the artwork | notes & thanks ]
- - -