The Longest Winter
Title: "The Longest Winter"
Disclaimer: I'm not RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Notes/Summary: In which there is a paradox. Written for the January 3 prompt at redismycolour.
"How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's bareness everywhere!"
- William Shakespeare, Sonnet 97
“Except it’s January,” Ianto said, as he loaded the containment kit into the SUV. “And you’ve been gone all of fifteen minutes.”
Jack put his arms around Ianto’s waist from behind and rested his head on his shoulder. “It was a long fifteen minutes!”
“I’m sure. The lines at Tesco can be such a terrible ordeal.” Ianto squirmed free, but did it smiling. “And anyway, we’re working. Owen should be here in a moment with -”
“Here’s the last of it,” Owen said as the garage door banged open. “And technically it’s still harassment if I’m made to watch the two of you canoodling.”
Ianto gave Jack a look that clearly said ‘I told you so.’
Jack just grinned.
“Okay, kids. Time’s a wasting,” he said as he opened the door and hopped up into the driving seat. “Let’s go catch this thing before I get another call from the police.”
Even as they drove away, though, Jack slept below them in the cold, their darker days ahead long past for him by more than two thousand winters, and yet unfinished. Waiting.
Disclaimer: I'm not RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Notes/Summary: In which there is a paradox. Written for the January 3 prompt at redismycolour.
"How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's bareness everywhere!"
- William Shakespeare, Sonnet 97
“Except it’s January,” Ianto said, as he loaded the containment kit into the SUV. “And you’ve been gone all of fifteen minutes.”
Jack put his arms around Ianto’s waist from behind and rested his head on his shoulder. “It was a long fifteen minutes!”
“I’m sure. The lines at Tesco can be such a terrible ordeal.” Ianto squirmed free, but did it smiling. “And anyway, we’re working. Owen should be here in a moment with -”
“Here’s the last of it,” Owen said as the garage door banged open. “And technically it’s still harassment if I’m made to watch the two of you canoodling.”
Ianto gave Jack a look that clearly said ‘I told you so.’
Jack just grinned.
“Okay, kids. Time’s a wasting,” he said as he opened the door and hopped up into the driving seat. “Let’s go catch this thing before I get another call from the police.”
Even as they drove away, though, Jack slept below them in the cold, their darker days ahead long past for him by more than two thousand winters, and yet unfinished. Waiting.