Learning To Breathe - 9/10 - Lying My Way From You
Title: Learning To Breathe - 9/10
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Ianto, Owen, Jack
Pairings: Ianto/Owen, Jack/Ianto
Series: Chapter Nine of “Lying My Way From You”.
Spoilers: If you have seen Series 2 then you’ll be fine. Honest.
Summary: An Ianto/Owen AU of Series 2. In this chapter, Owen’s life is in a state of limbo, as is his relationship with Ianto. But will he be able to overcome the overwhelming paranoia of losing Ianto to a suddenly more alive Jack?
Disclaimer: Regrettably I own nothing, none of the characters, zip. Wish I did though.
Author’s Notes: Ok, so it’s been a while because my brain was determined to finish TOATA before I started Uni. But anyway I finally bring more of this series to you, and in this, the penultimate chapter I found my biggest challenge…but more on that later. For now I simply have to sit here and squee about my gorgeous ownto queenie (and beta)thehubsitter . I adore that girl and somehow she manages to sit on msn and handle all the ownto I throw at her. She’s an inspiration she is! So thank thee muchly chuck!
Chapter One: It's Beginning To Get To Me
Chapter Two: Oblivious
Chapter Three: The Edge's Start To Blur
Chapter Four: Every You, Every Me
Chapter Five: Easier To Lie
Chapter Six: Uneasy Constants
Chapter Seven: Time Of Dying
Chapter Eight: All We Are
Dedicated to thehubsitter , for all the above reasons and so many more. I trust no other’s judgement on Ownto more than hers and let’s just be honest, she is rather good at making me smile. And who can forget naddypants who this is also dedicated to? Because well she’s just awesome, she makes me laugh even when I am feeling rather pathetic and although a wee bit embarrassing for her, her drunken calls and texts don’t half amuse me. :P
“Stones taught me to fly
Love, it taught me to lie
Life, it taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall
When you float like a cannonball”
He knew that Ianto was getting just as little sleep as he was.
His body was still, quiet beside him, and yet Owen knew, could sense that the other man was still awake. He never seemed to sleep as well anymore, not after Owen’s “revival”, but even so the nights never felt quite like this. Usually Ianto would lie there, his arms so tight around Owen’s body, and eventually, slowly but surely he would drift off to sleep leaving Owen to imagine how his breath must feel against his cheek. But not that night. Ianto’s back was firmly to him, his body pushed to the very furthest reaches of the bed, his shoulders hunched in the dim light. Even worse, Owen knew why Ianto was behaving this way. It had been him, earlier that day, when anger and frustration had coursed out of his body and had lashed out at Ianto. When he had said so much that he didn’t mean, and yet so much that he was too proud to admit he was wrong about. After all, so much was wrong in his life now, so much was changed that Owen was simply desperate to cling to whatever futile arguments that he could.
He might have been conscious, but death had still torn his life from him, ripping it out from his chest without a second thought. Practically every shred of his old life, or his old routine was gone, deemed unnecessary, irrelevant, and the resulting feeling could only ever be described as empty. For example he wasn’t even sure why he was in Ianto’s bed that night, he would never sleep. In a similar way he didn’t even know why he bothered stripping to his boxers and t-shirt before he climbed under the duvet, he would never overheat. The rational part of his brain told him that he was purely trying to cling to the habits that made him feel human, that made him feel normal. But the fact would remain that he simply wasn’t normal, not anymore. He didn’t feel, didn’t taste, didn’t bleed. His skin was as cold as ice, there was a gaping hole in the centre of his chest and worst of all there was no dull beating of his heart to comfort him when he felt at his most vulnerable. And yet with all this loss of sensation, one very prominent part of his humanity remained. Pain. It may have only been psychological, but it was there, deep, unforgiving, a burning emotion forever raging through his skull. It was the agony of no longer being himself, of being wrong, of knowing that he was no longer enough for the man he loved…
The most frustrating thing of all was the others acted as if nothing had changed. After all he looked alive, he sounded alive, therefore Owen Harper much have felt alive, or at least in their eyes. Gwen attempted to keep up their old banter, Toshiko would forever smile and chat to him idly, and once overcoming his initial fears Jack finally returned to shouting orders at him, his tone albeit it a little softer than it had been previously. Even Ianto had tried to maintain the status quo. He would still insist on Owen coming home with him most nights as was their routine (Ianto’s flat being closer to the Hub), hell he would even still insist that they left at the same time, in clear view of everyone, their secret long since blown. But despite all this “togetherness”, they never talked. Sure, Ianto would make idle chatter whilst they sat down in front of the TV on the quieter evenings, and they’d share the odd, occasional laugh at the marathons of “QI” that they had to catch up on whilst they had the chance. But they would never talk about how they felt. They’d never bring up that in the month since Owen’s “incident” they had never kissed properly, or had never talked about their relationship in any great detail. It was all just left unsaid, and no matter how much Owen wanted to tell Ianto about how dead he really felt, he couldn’t. Because he simply couldn’t bear to see the pain in Ianto’s eyes if he did so. Ianto had already faced that, almost twice, and therefore Owen did not dare to inflict more hurt upon him, not for his own selfish reasons. It just wasn’t worth it.
He should have known that he could never have sustained it though. Because that day, all of Owen fears, insecurities and frustration had come to a head. And at that point, it had taken one slip of Owen’s concentration to result in a colossal loss of control on his part.
They were talking about him. He knew it, and he hated it. The worst of it was that Ianto had been so long in Jack’s office that Owen was beginning to wonder just what exactly they were saying. It was infuriating, sitting that close to Jack’s office, knowing that Ianto had been in there for at least twenty minutes and yet the door remainesd3d firmly shut, almost as if it was cutting him off, an impenetrable barrier. Owen frowned, tapping at his desk idly with his pen. He had half a mind to make up a weevil attack and just use it as a result to get in there.
The discontent Owen had for Jack was a feeling like no other. He wanted to hate him, and yet he knew that he couldn’t, even if the man had brought him back into what had felt like a living hell. He knew why Jack had done it, and deep down he knew that it wasn’t because Jack wanted him back. He had done it for Ianto because he still loved him, that much was obvious. And yet knowing that Jack had done that rather than simply comforting Ianto himself didn’t make Owen feel anymore positive about the Captain. Not so much because of what Jack had done, but because of what he was. Quietly Owen had always pitied Jack, for his immortality and his doomed fate to simply watch everyone else die. But at least Jack would live forever. He could still eat and sleep and shag his way through eternity. Whereas Owen, he would simply be dead forever. And somehow that just didn’t feel fair to the medic.
And now that he himself was dead, Jack suddenly just looked so much more alive. It was like Owen was almost an outsider sometimes, and he was forced to just look in and watch Ianto and Jack together, almost like it had been before they had started their relationship. For Owen could never give Ianto that little grateful smile when he brought him a coffee, or give him that pleading look, hands together when he was desperately hungry for some Chinese. Owen could barely offer Ianto anything anymore, least of all sex. And even though he didn’t doubt that Ianto loved him, Owen was not so sure that Ianto wouldn’t succumb to Jack and fall back into bed with him.
It felt juvenile to think that like. After all, sex wasn’t everything. But then again, it had always been a huge part of Owen’s life. He had loved it in every way, loved to experiment, loved the feeling of being able to lose yourself in another human being if only for a few minutes. He loved the variety that came with how different people felt, sounded, tasted each and every night. He loved the very rare, but undeniable connection with someone that little more special, the same feeling that brought you back again and again, even if it was just to keep that feeling alive. But now that Owen couldn’t do that, couldn’t give Ianto that anymore, it was as if there was a huge deep hole in their relationship that just added in putting distance between them.
“Do you need any help?” Owen asked softly, later that day whilst Ianto was fiddling with the coffee machine, his back to him.
“I’m only making coffee…” Ianto laughed gently, turning round and giving him a quizzical look. “I’ve only done it a couple of hundred times by myself.”
“Yeah well…I could pass you a mug or something.” The medic shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“You’re that bored? Then pass me Jack’s mug…blue and white stripy one on the far shelf.”
“Jack…” Owen murmured, handing the mug to Ianto quickly. “You were in his office earlier right?” He didn’t quite mean to say it, but the question slipped from Owen’s mouth faster than he could stop it. He bit his lip slightly, passing the mug to Ianto who continued not to look at him, instead fixing his eyes on the machine.
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Well you were in there a long time…” Owen could feel himself backtracking, so he stopped and forced another question from his lips. “So what were you talking about?”
“He wanted the full retcon list for Gwen’s wedding.” Ianto replied quickly almost rehearsed.
“And that took you twenty minutes, right?”
“What are you?” Ianto gave him a half amused glance, lining the mugs up underneath the machine. “My babysitter now?”
“No…” Owen sighed, rolling his eyes. “It’s just…you were talking about me weren’t you?”
“A little.” Ianto shrugged. “He asked how you were. How we were.”
“Did he now?” Owen laughed darkly. “You surprise me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh come on Yan…we both know what he wants to hear.”
“It’s not like that…me and Jack.” Ianto shook his head quickly. “Not anymore.”
“But I bet you’ve thought about it…right?”
“What?”
“You’ve thought about him…like that. Since I…” Owen’s voice tailed off, still not quite able to admit his own death. Instead he merely gave Ianto the same almost sinister smirk, daring him to admit it. But what he expected never came, and Owen retaliated with a weak laugh before speaking again. “I bet you’re kicking yourself now.”
“What are you saying Owen?”
“It’s ironic, isn’t it? You made the wrong choice. You picked me when you could still be fucking him.”
“Is that who you think I am?” Ianto didn’t raise his voice, he merely continued to stare at the coffee machine, his hand clenching around a tea towel, his eyes closed. “Really, Owen?”
“I can’t give you that anymore…so yeah…why not go back to him?”
“Do you really think I’d do that you?!” The medic was nowhere near prepared for the loud, hurt tones of Ianto’s voice as he whirled round to face him, his eyes confused and angry all at once. “Whilst you’re here…still alive?!”
“ALIVE?!” Owen scoffed back, his voice matching the strength of Ianto’s. “You think this is life, Yan?! Because believe me…it doesn’t fucking feel like it from where I’m standing! It’s shit…pure shit, you hear me?”
“We all have to deal with shit, Owen.”
“But not like this! Not like me…you can still eat, you can still do everything that you want!”
“It’s going to be a long life if you keep bringing that up!”
“What am I supposed to do? Nothing has changed for you!”
“Nothing’s changed?! Owen…you have changed. You barely speak to me anymore; you barely do or say anything. It’s almost as if you’ve given up on me, given up on everything else. Even as if you’ve given up on us.”
“I’m dead, Ianto.”
“But you’re still here!” Ianto yelled, his hand hitting against the counter painfully. “Don’t you see that? Or see what you’re doing to everyone else?” He sighed, groaning in frustration. “You’re still a part of all our lives. Especially mine.”
“I don’t feel like it though…”
“You still are! And you might not feel anymore but surely you can see just how fucking insensitive you’re being.” Ianto rolled his eyes, stepping past Owen. His back to him, he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes, no longer angry, now more mournful, meeting with Owen’s again. “I know that you’ve lost so much Owen…but just remember, you’re not the only one.”
He’d instantly regretted every word, every syllable that had left his mouth, and yet at the same time Owen knew that there was simply no way for him to take any of it back. Ianto had heard it all, every insecurity had fallen from his mouth heavy and unwanted upon his ears. Deep down Owen knew that his paranoia about Ianto was unfounded, and he didn’t for a second believe that the man would lie to him. But still the fact remained that he knew that Ianto was capable of it. After all he had loved Lisa, and yet he had slept with Jack then. He’d been sleeping with Owen at first when Jack had been completely oblivious. As difficult as it was to admit, Ianto was simply too good at hiding his true self, his true emotions. And Owen resented the fact that he couldn’t read him, and even worse the action that it drove him to.
Ianto wasn’t hiding anything anymore. It was blatantly clear in the dark, from the strange, sniffling noises that Owen could hear from beside him. In the darkened room it was as if the silence merely amplified Ianto’s restlessness, extenuating it to the medic until it reached a point where it was completely intolerable. He hated making Ianto feel like this, and now it had all reached an extent where Owen’s pride no longer stood in the way.
“Yan…” He was reaching forwards in seconds, wrapping his arms around Ianto’s chest and pressing his body into his back, the form in his hands freezing instantly as he did so. Sighing, words seemed to fail the medic and so instead he nuzzled his face into the back of Ianto’s neck, kissing the skin that he found there, remembering how the mere action seemed to make Ianto’s body squirm and wriggle beside him. His neck had always been one of Ianto’s weak spots, and it was always one that Owen had been quick to exploit, instantly causing his lover to submit. Even when he was pissed with him he soon found, as the soft groan that left Ianto’s lips was enough of an affirmation as any.
“I’m sorry…” Ianto’s words some how forced their way out in amongst the groans, his body swivelling in Owen’s arms so that he was lying on his back, his eyes suddenly right there and shining in the dim grey light of the room. “I didn’t mean…-”
“Neither did I.” Owen smiled quickly, leaning down and pressing a brief kiss to Ianto’s lips in order to stop him from replying. “Not now…please.”
“Why? Wh-”
“Don’t you play innocent with me, Yan.” Owen sniggered softly, tilting his head and pressing a line of sucking kisses down Ianto’s throat, before allowing his mouth to rest upon the join of his neck and shoulders, his teeth nipping as forcefully as he dared, his tongue lapping at the abused skin. The moans that left Ianto’s mouth were like pure, unadulterated sex, and Owen desperately tried to push aside the frustrated feeling that had already begun to build in his stomach from the noise. Instead he lifted his head, kissing Ianto’s lips once again, so briefly, his eyes open so that he could take in Ianto’s. He wanted to make sure he was ready, especially when he was several senses down, the almost lost feeling so unnerving in this kind of environment for him. But the look that greeted him answered all of his fears. Ianto’s eyes were glazed, darkened even in the dim light, his features almost pleading as they searched Owen’s desperately. Fortunately it was all Owen needed to give him a little confidence, and he soon found himself pressing his lips to Ianto’s mouth again, opening his own mouth instinctively. The deepened kiss for him was all about memories, and Owen felt bad that in the most part it was down to Ianto, the one who would have to yield and move according to Owen’s directions. But it was the best that he could do, and concentrating hard he closed his eyes, desperately trying to remember every little thing that Ianto enjoyed, willingly including it into their kiss in order to somehow repay him for everything. In his mind he replayed everything, every moment, his thoughts focused on the satin smoothness of Ianto’s lips or the subtle aggression of his tongue. As a result Owen found himself groaning, half out of wanton need, half of out habit as he finally tore his mouth from Ianto’s, moving to kiss the more familiar territory that was his neck. It was then when Owen noticed Ianto’s hands, saw them move and grasp the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it upwards to expose his cold abdomen slowly. If Owen’s heart had been beating it would have frozen at that very second, his own hands shooting down and grabbing Ianto’s wrists quickly.
“Don’t…”
“But…” Ianto smiled softly, his eyes searching Owen’s for some understanding. “I can’t feel you this way…”
“Please…” Owen hated the pleading tone that echoed through his voice, but it was still undeniably there. “I don’t….want to see it. I can’t…” He softened slightly, his hands letting go of Ianto’s wrists quickly. “Just relax, ok? Let me do this…”
He tried to force more confidence into his actions as Owen reached down, watching his hand slide down Ianto’s torso with no sensation. Feeling almost like a spectator himself he pressed a few more frantic kisses against the skin of Ianto’s shoulder before turning his head and watching as his hand slipped past the elastic of Ianto’s boxers. Ianto’s body tensed at the action, his back arching ever so slightly, his eyes so tightly closed, almost expectant. Expectant for something that never came, as Owen suddenly froze, the numbness of his hand suddenly feeling so alien, so lost, making him so unsure. He instantly stopped, lifting his head and giving Ianto an almost apologetic look.
“I-I’m sorry…I can’t…”
Ianto didn’t reply, leaning forward and pressing the gentlest of kisses to Owen’s mouth, his face warm and kind. Slowly but surely he reached down, taking Owen’s hand and guiding it onto his cock, his hand gently curling around Owen’s. In a soft, almost caring movement Ianto began to move both their hands, giving Owen another reassuring smile before his head fell back against the pillow, his mouth dropping open slightly as his features grew more relaxed. Suddenly filled with a new wave of confidence Owen began to take over, returning to nipping at the skin of Ianto’s neck and chest that he could reach, his wrist keeping to a steady yet controlled pace. As he leaned back to take in Ianto’s body he watched with contentment as Ianto removed his own hand, wrapping it around Owen’s body whilst the other desperately gripped the sheets. His mouth uttered a constant stream of garbled words of encouragement; all crammed in between a flurry of groans and moans that soon dominated the room, Owen’s hand moving faster, almost forcing them from his mouth. His body tensing further, Ianto began to tilt his hips in time with Owen’s hands, his teeth gently biting down on his top lip. A few more quickened strokes of Owen’s hand and Ianto’s eyes were finally clenching shut tightly as he found his release, his body shaking and trembling as he slowly came down from his rocketing climax. Removing his hand Owen smirked to himself slowly, taking a moment to merely sit and watch Ianto. Sure, he hadn’t been able to feel any of it, but he had seen it all, and right then, that strangely felt like enough.
“Fuck…” Ianto grinned breathlessly, his eyes finally opening and meeting with Owen’s. With one hand he reached up, running it up the back of Owen’s neck and into his hair, stroking gently at his scalp. “You do realise you’ve just proved yourself wrong?” He added with a breathless laugh.
“I got selfish again.” The medic shrugged gently. “I’m sorry.”
“You apologised with something selfless though.” Ianto smiled, pulling Owen down to lie beside him, his arm curling around his shoulders possessively. Tilting his head he pressed a kiss to the top of Owen’s head, his hand stroking his arm gently, feeling the cool skin that lay there. “I promise you…it’s really not like that with me and Jack.”
“I know.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because…” Owen angled his head up to look Ianto in the eye. “He’s more...whole than me. And I’m just, not enough for you anymore.”
“That’s what you think.” Ianto sighed softly. “You’re more than enough for me, Owen.”
“I can’t be.”
“Will you just listen to me for a second?” Ianto laughed exasperated. “The phrase ‘I love you’ is completely lost on you isn’t it?”
“Funny…” Owen scoffed slightly. “I think it always has been.”
“Well…then put it this way.” Ianto said gently, tilting his head and giving Owen a serious look. “I told you that I wasn’t leaving you. And I stand by that. In every way, ok?”
“Ok.”
“You don’t believe me do you?”
“I still think that you deserve more than me.”
“Doesn’t mean I want it though does it?” Ianto smiled with kind eyes. “You’re the one I want Owen…you always will be. Even if you’re the only one who can’t get it into that thick skull of yours.”
“Give me time…” Owen laughed gently, nudging him playfully. “I guess I could get used to it.”
It was one of those perfect moments when all Owen would have liked to do was curl up and fall fast asleep next to Ianto, the peaceful lull of his breathing beside him like a soft lullaby. But Owen knew plainly that those days were gone. So instead he chose to lay there, his eyes closed and almost pretend that he was asleep. He wouldn’t dream, but quickly those dreams were replaced by his imagination, by thoughts that were so much more deliberate. He let his thoughts wander to idle scenarios, to places where he and Ianto had always joked about going even though they both knew that Torchwood would always prevent him. But the distance of these ideas didn’t matter right then, because on the stage of Owen’s mind they were allowed to be played out, right down to the impeccable grin on Ianto’s face and the far too delectable an image of him in swimming shorts. And for the long hours that Owen would now spend alone in his own head, those thoughts felt like the only thing that might keep him sane.
After all, a dead man could still dream right?
So…*is already cringing* Undead!smut…it’s just wrong on so many levels I know, but there was a point to it! And it isn’t necrophilia is he’s still conscious…apparently. Haha but seriously folks, this chapter was a bitch to write because of it but all the same I hope you enjoyed the angst! And as always, if you could spare a second to let me know what you thought, well then you’d make me a very happy writer indeed. :)
Just Being Me a.k.a Siany
xxxxxxxxxxxx
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Ianto, Owen, Jack
Pairings: Ianto/Owen, Jack/Ianto
Series: Chapter Nine of “Lying My Way From You”.
Spoilers: If you have seen Series 2 then you’ll be fine. Honest.
Summary: An Ianto/Owen AU of Series 2. In this chapter, Owen’s life is in a state of limbo, as is his relationship with Ianto. But will he be able to overcome the overwhelming paranoia of losing Ianto to a suddenly more alive Jack?
Disclaimer: Regrettably I own nothing, none of the characters, zip. Wish I did though.
Author’s Notes: Ok, so it’s been a while because my brain was determined to finish TOATA before I started Uni. But anyway I finally bring more of this series to you, and in this, the penultimate chapter I found my biggest challenge…but more on that later. For now I simply have to sit here and squee about my gorgeous ownto queenie (and beta)thehubsitter . I adore that girl and somehow she manages to sit on msn and handle all the ownto I throw at her. She’s an inspiration she is! So thank thee muchly chuck!
Chapter One: It's Beginning To Get To Me
Chapter Two: Oblivious
Chapter Three: The Edge's Start To Blur
Chapter Four: Every You, Every Me
Chapter Five: Easier To Lie
Chapter Six: Uneasy Constants
Chapter Seven: Time Of Dying
Chapter Eight: All We Are
Dedicated to thehubsitter , for all the above reasons and so many more. I trust no other’s judgement on Ownto more than hers and let’s just be honest, she is rather good at making me smile. And who can forget naddypants who this is also dedicated to? Because well she’s just awesome, she makes me laugh even when I am feeling rather pathetic and although a wee bit embarrassing for her, her drunken calls and texts don’t half amuse me. :P
“Stones taught me to fly
Love, it taught me to lie
Life, it taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall
When you float like a cannonball”
He knew that Ianto was getting just as little sleep as he was.
His body was still, quiet beside him, and yet Owen knew, could sense that the other man was still awake. He never seemed to sleep as well anymore, not after Owen’s “revival”, but even so the nights never felt quite like this. Usually Ianto would lie there, his arms so tight around Owen’s body, and eventually, slowly but surely he would drift off to sleep leaving Owen to imagine how his breath must feel against his cheek. But not that night. Ianto’s back was firmly to him, his body pushed to the very furthest reaches of the bed, his shoulders hunched in the dim light. Even worse, Owen knew why Ianto was behaving this way. It had been him, earlier that day, when anger and frustration had coursed out of his body and had lashed out at Ianto. When he had said so much that he didn’t mean, and yet so much that he was too proud to admit he was wrong about. After all, so much was wrong in his life now, so much was changed that Owen was simply desperate to cling to whatever futile arguments that he could.
He might have been conscious, but death had still torn his life from him, ripping it out from his chest without a second thought. Practically every shred of his old life, or his old routine was gone, deemed unnecessary, irrelevant, and the resulting feeling could only ever be described as empty. For example he wasn’t even sure why he was in Ianto’s bed that night, he would never sleep. In a similar way he didn’t even know why he bothered stripping to his boxers and t-shirt before he climbed under the duvet, he would never overheat. The rational part of his brain told him that he was purely trying to cling to the habits that made him feel human, that made him feel normal. But the fact would remain that he simply wasn’t normal, not anymore. He didn’t feel, didn’t taste, didn’t bleed. His skin was as cold as ice, there was a gaping hole in the centre of his chest and worst of all there was no dull beating of his heart to comfort him when he felt at his most vulnerable. And yet with all this loss of sensation, one very prominent part of his humanity remained. Pain. It may have only been psychological, but it was there, deep, unforgiving, a burning emotion forever raging through his skull. It was the agony of no longer being himself, of being wrong, of knowing that he was no longer enough for the man he loved…
The most frustrating thing of all was the others acted as if nothing had changed. After all he looked alive, he sounded alive, therefore Owen Harper much have felt alive, or at least in their eyes. Gwen attempted to keep up their old banter, Toshiko would forever smile and chat to him idly, and once overcoming his initial fears Jack finally returned to shouting orders at him, his tone albeit it a little softer than it had been previously. Even Ianto had tried to maintain the status quo. He would still insist on Owen coming home with him most nights as was their routine (Ianto’s flat being closer to the Hub), hell he would even still insist that they left at the same time, in clear view of everyone, their secret long since blown. But despite all this “togetherness”, they never talked. Sure, Ianto would make idle chatter whilst they sat down in front of the TV on the quieter evenings, and they’d share the odd, occasional laugh at the marathons of “QI” that they had to catch up on whilst they had the chance. But they would never talk about how they felt. They’d never bring up that in the month since Owen’s “incident” they had never kissed properly, or had never talked about their relationship in any great detail. It was all just left unsaid, and no matter how much Owen wanted to tell Ianto about how dead he really felt, he couldn’t. Because he simply couldn’t bear to see the pain in Ianto’s eyes if he did so. Ianto had already faced that, almost twice, and therefore Owen did not dare to inflict more hurt upon him, not for his own selfish reasons. It just wasn’t worth it.
He should have known that he could never have sustained it though. Because that day, all of Owen fears, insecurities and frustration had come to a head. And at that point, it had taken one slip of Owen’s concentration to result in a colossal loss of control on his part.
They were talking about him. He knew it, and he hated it. The worst of it was that Ianto had been so long in Jack’s office that Owen was beginning to wonder just what exactly they were saying. It was infuriating, sitting that close to Jack’s office, knowing that Ianto had been in there for at least twenty minutes and yet the door remainesd3d firmly shut, almost as if it was cutting him off, an impenetrable barrier. Owen frowned, tapping at his desk idly with his pen. He had half a mind to make up a weevil attack and just use it as a result to get in there.
The discontent Owen had for Jack was a feeling like no other. He wanted to hate him, and yet he knew that he couldn’t, even if the man had brought him back into what had felt like a living hell. He knew why Jack had done it, and deep down he knew that it wasn’t because Jack wanted him back. He had done it for Ianto because he still loved him, that much was obvious. And yet knowing that Jack had done that rather than simply comforting Ianto himself didn’t make Owen feel anymore positive about the Captain. Not so much because of what Jack had done, but because of what he was. Quietly Owen had always pitied Jack, for his immortality and his doomed fate to simply watch everyone else die. But at least Jack would live forever. He could still eat and sleep and shag his way through eternity. Whereas Owen, he would simply be dead forever. And somehow that just didn’t feel fair to the medic.
And now that he himself was dead, Jack suddenly just looked so much more alive. It was like Owen was almost an outsider sometimes, and he was forced to just look in and watch Ianto and Jack together, almost like it had been before they had started their relationship. For Owen could never give Ianto that little grateful smile when he brought him a coffee, or give him that pleading look, hands together when he was desperately hungry for some Chinese. Owen could barely offer Ianto anything anymore, least of all sex. And even though he didn’t doubt that Ianto loved him, Owen was not so sure that Ianto wouldn’t succumb to Jack and fall back into bed with him.
It felt juvenile to think that like. After all, sex wasn’t everything. But then again, it had always been a huge part of Owen’s life. He had loved it in every way, loved to experiment, loved the feeling of being able to lose yourself in another human being if only for a few minutes. He loved the variety that came with how different people felt, sounded, tasted each and every night. He loved the very rare, but undeniable connection with someone that little more special, the same feeling that brought you back again and again, even if it was just to keep that feeling alive. But now that Owen couldn’t do that, couldn’t give Ianto that anymore, it was as if there was a huge deep hole in their relationship that just added in putting distance between them.
“Do you need any help?” Owen asked softly, later that day whilst Ianto was fiddling with the coffee machine, his back to him.
“I’m only making coffee…” Ianto laughed gently, turning round and giving him a quizzical look. “I’ve only done it a couple of hundred times by myself.”
“Yeah well…I could pass you a mug or something.” The medic shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“You’re that bored? Then pass me Jack’s mug…blue and white stripy one on the far shelf.”
“Jack…” Owen murmured, handing the mug to Ianto quickly. “You were in his office earlier right?” He didn’t quite mean to say it, but the question slipped from Owen’s mouth faster than he could stop it. He bit his lip slightly, passing the mug to Ianto who continued not to look at him, instead fixing his eyes on the machine.
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Well you were in there a long time…” Owen could feel himself backtracking, so he stopped and forced another question from his lips. “So what were you talking about?”
“He wanted the full retcon list for Gwen’s wedding.” Ianto replied quickly almost rehearsed.
“And that took you twenty minutes, right?”
“What are you?” Ianto gave him a half amused glance, lining the mugs up underneath the machine. “My babysitter now?”
“No…” Owen sighed, rolling his eyes. “It’s just…you were talking about me weren’t you?”
“A little.” Ianto shrugged. “He asked how you were. How we were.”
“Did he now?” Owen laughed darkly. “You surprise me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh come on Yan…we both know what he wants to hear.”
“It’s not like that…me and Jack.” Ianto shook his head quickly. “Not anymore.”
“But I bet you’ve thought about it…right?”
“What?”
“You’ve thought about him…like that. Since I…” Owen’s voice tailed off, still not quite able to admit his own death. Instead he merely gave Ianto the same almost sinister smirk, daring him to admit it. But what he expected never came, and Owen retaliated with a weak laugh before speaking again. “I bet you’re kicking yourself now.”
“What are you saying Owen?”
“It’s ironic, isn’t it? You made the wrong choice. You picked me when you could still be fucking him.”
“Is that who you think I am?” Ianto didn’t raise his voice, he merely continued to stare at the coffee machine, his hand clenching around a tea towel, his eyes closed. “Really, Owen?”
“I can’t give you that anymore…so yeah…why not go back to him?”
“Do you really think I’d do that you?!” The medic was nowhere near prepared for the loud, hurt tones of Ianto’s voice as he whirled round to face him, his eyes confused and angry all at once. “Whilst you’re here…still alive?!”
“ALIVE?!” Owen scoffed back, his voice matching the strength of Ianto’s. “You think this is life, Yan?! Because believe me…it doesn’t fucking feel like it from where I’m standing! It’s shit…pure shit, you hear me?”
“We all have to deal with shit, Owen.”
“But not like this! Not like me…you can still eat, you can still do everything that you want!”
“It’s going to be a long life if you keep bringing that up!”
“What am I supposed to do? Nothing has changed for you!”
“Nothing’s changed?! Owen…you have changed. You barely speak to me anymore; you barely do or say anything. It’s almost as if you’ve given up on me, given up on everything else. Even as if you’ve given up on us.”
“I’m dead, Ianto.”
“But you’re still here!” Ianto yelled, his hand hitting against the counter painfully. “Don’t you see that? Or see what you’re doing to everyone else?” He sighed, groaning in frustration. “You’re still a part of all our lives. Especially mine.”
“I don’t feel like it though…”
“You still are! And you might not feel anymore but surely you can see just how fucking insensitive you’re being.” Ianto rolled his eyes, stepping past Owen. His back to him, he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes, no longer angry, now more mournful, meeting with Owen’s again. “I know that you’ve lost so much Owen…but just remember, you’re not the only one.”
He’d instantly regretted every word, every syllable that had left his mouth, and yet at the same time Owen knew that there was simply no way for him to take any of it back. Ianto had heard it all, every insecurity had fallen from his mouth heavy and unwanted upon his ears. Deep down Owen knew that his paranoia about Ianto was unfounded, and he didn’t for a second believe that the man would lie to him. But still the fact remained that he knew that Ianto was capable of it. After all he had loved Lisa, and yet he had slept with Jack then. He’d been sleeping with Owen at first when Jack had been completely oblivious. As difficult as it was to admit, Ianto was simply too good at hiding his true self, his true emotions. And Owen resented the fact that he couldn’t read him, and even worse the action that it drove him to.
Ianto wasn’t hiding anything anymore. It was blatantly clear in the dark, from the strange, sniffling noises that Owen could hear from beside him. In the darkened room it was as if the silence merely amplified Ianto’s restlessness, extenuating it to the medic until it reached a point where it was completely intolerable. He hated making Ianto feel like this, and now it had all reached an extent where Owen’s pride no longer stood in the way.
“Yan…” He was reaching forwards in seconds, wrapping his arms around Ianto’s chest and pressing his body into his back, the form in his hands freezing instantly as he did so. Sighing, words seemed to fail the medic and so instead he nuzzled his face into the back of Ianto’s neck, kissing the skin that he found there, remembering how the mere action seemed to make Ianto’s body squirm and wriggle beside him. His neck had always been one of Ianto’s weak spots, and it was always one that Owen had been quick to exploit, instantly causing his lover to submit. Even when he was pissed with him he soon found, as the soft groan that left Ianto’s lips was enough of an affirmation as any.
“I’m sorry…” Ianto’s words some how forced their way out in amongst the groans, his body swivelling in Owen’s arms so that he was lying on his back, his eyes suddenly right there and shining in the dim grey light of the room. “I didn’t mean…-”
“Neither did I.” Owen smiled quickly, leaning down and pressing a brief kiss to Ianto’s lips in order to stop him from replying. “Not now…please.”
“Why? Wh-”
“Don’t you play innocent with me, Yan.” Owen sniggered softly, tilting his head and pressing a line of sucking kisses down Ianto’s throat, before allowing his mouth to rest upon the join of his neck and shoulders, his teeth nipping as forcefully as he dared, his tongue lapping at the abused skin. The moans that left Ianto’s mouth were like pure, unadulterated sex, and Owen desperately tried to push aside the frustrated feeling that had already begun to build in his stomach from the noise. Instead he lifted his head, kissing Ianto’s lips once again, so briefly, his eyes open so that he could take in Ianto’s. He wanted to make sure he was ready, especially when he was several senses down, the almost lost feeling so unnerving in this kind of environment for him. But the look that greeted him answered all of his fears. Ianto’s eyes were glazed, darkened even in the dim light, his features almost pleading as they searched Owen’s desperately. Fortunately it was all Owen needed to give him a little confidence, and he soon found himself pressing his lips to Ianto’s mouth again, opening his own mouth instinctively. The deepened kiss for him was all about memories, and Owen felt bad that in the most part it was down to Ianto, the one who would have to yield and move according to Owen’s directions. But it was the best that he could do, and concentrating hard he closed his eyes, desperately trying to remember every little thing that Ianto enjoyed, willingly including it into their kiss in order to somehow repay him for everything. In his mind he replayed everything, every moment, his thoughts focused on the satin smoothness of Ianto’s lips or the subtle aggression of his tongue. As a result Owen found himself groaning, half out of wanton need, half of out habit as he finally tore his mouth from Ianto’s, moving to kiss the more familiar territory that was his neck. It was then when Owen noticed Ianto’s hands, saw them move and grasp the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it upwards to expose his cold abdomen slowly. If Owen’s heart had been beating it would have frozen at that very second, his own hands shooting down and grabbing Ianto’s wrists quickly.
“Don’t…”
“But…” Ianto smiled softly, his eyes searching Owen’s for some understanding. “I can’t feel you this way…”
“Please…” Owen hated the pleading tone that echoed through his voice, but it was still undeniably there. “I don’t….want to see it. I can’t…” He softened slightly, his hands letting go of Ianto’s wrists quickly. “Just relax, ok? Let me do this…”
He tried to force more confidence into his actions as Owen reached down, watching his hand slide down Ianto’s torso with no sensation. Feeling almost like a spectator himself he pressed a few more frantic kisses against the skin of Ianto’s shoulder before turning his head and watching as his hand slipped past the elastic of Ianto’s boxers. Ianto’s body tensed at the action, his back arching ever so slightly, his eyes so tightly closed, almost expectant. Expectant for something that never came, as Owen suddenly froze, the numbness of his hand suddenly feeling so alien, so lost, making him so unsure. He instantly stopped, lifting his head and giving Ianto an almost apologetic look.
“I-I’m sorry…I can’t…”
Ianto didn’t reply, leaning forward and pressing the gentlest of kisses to Owen’s mouth, his face warm and kind. Slowly but surely he reached down, taking Owen’s hand and guiding it onto his cock, his hand gently curling around Owen’s. In a soft, almost caring movement Ianto began to move both their hands, giving Owen another reassuring smile before his head fell back against the pillow, his mouth dropping open slightly as his features grew more relaxed. Suddenly filled with a new wave of confidence Owen began to take over, returning to nipping at the skin of Ianto’s neck and chest that he could reach, his wrist keeping to a steady yet controlled pace. As he leaned back to take in Ianto’s body he watched with contentment as Ianto removed his own hand, wrapping it around Owen’s body whilst the other desperately gripped the sheets. His mouth uttered a constant stream of garbled words of encouragement; all crammed in between a flurry of groans and moans that soon dominated the room, Owen’s hand moving faster, almost forcing them from his mouth. His body tensing further, Ianto began to tilt his hips in time with Owen’s hands, his teeth gently biting down on his top lip. A few more quickened strokes of Owen’s hand and Ianto’s eyes were finally clenching shut tightly as he found his release, his body shaking and trembling as he slowly came down from his rocketing climax. Removing his hand Owen smirked to himself slowly, taking a moment to merely sit and watch Ianto. Sure, he hadn’t been able to feel any of it, but he had seen it all, and right then, that strangely felt like enough.
“Fuck…” Ianto grinned breathlessly, his eyes finally opening and meeting with Owen’s. With one hand he reached up, running it up the back of Owen’s neck and into his hair, stroking gently at his scalp. “You do realise you’ve just proved yourself wrong?” He added with a breathless laugh.
“I got selfish again.” The medic shrugged gently. “I’m sorry.”
“You apologised with something selfless though.” Ianto smiled, pulling Owen down to lie beside him, his arm curling around his shoulders possessively. Tilting his head he pressed a kiss to the top of Owen’s head, his hand stroking his arm gently, feeling the cool skin that lay there. “I promise you…it’s really not like that with me and Jack.”
“I know.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because…” Owen angled his head up to look Ianto in the eye. “He’s more...whole than me. And I’m just, not enough for you anymore.”
“That’s what you think.” Ianto sighed softly. “You’re more than enough for me, Owen.”
“I can’t be.”
“Will you just listen to me for a second?” Ianto laughed exasperated. “The phrase ‘I love you’ is completely lost on you isn’t it?”
“Funny…” Owen scoffed slightly. “I think it always has been.”
“Well…then put it this way.” Ianto said gently, tilting his head and giving Owen a serious look. “I told you that I wasn’t leaving you. And I stand by that. In every way, ok?”
“Ok.”
“You don’t believe me do you?”
“I still think that you deserve more than me.”
“Doesn’t mean I want it though does it?” Ianto smiled with kind eyes. “You’re the one I want Owen…you always will be. Even if you’re the only one who can’t get it into that thick skull of yours.”
“Give me time…” Owen laughed gently, nudging him playfully. “I guess I could get used to it.”
It was one of those perfect moments when all Owen would have liked to do was curl up and fall fast asleep next to Ianto, the peaceful lull of his breathing beside him like a soft lullaby. But Owen knew plainly that those days were gone. So instead he chose to lay there, his eyes closed and almost pretend that he was asleep. He wouldn’t dream, but quickly those dreams were replaced by his imagination, by thoughts that were so much more deliberate. He let his thoughts wander to idle scenarios, to places where he and Ianto had always joked about going even though they both knew that Torchwood would always prevent him. But the distance of these ideas didn’t matter right then, because on the stage of Owen’s mind they were allowed to be played out, right down to the impeccable grin on Ianto’s face and the far too delectable an image of him in swimming shorts. And for the long hours that Owen would now spend alone in his own head, those thoughts felt like the only thing that might keep him sane.
After all, a dead man could still dream right?
So…*is already cringing* Undead!smut…it’s just wrong on so many levels I know, but there was a point to it! And it isn’t necrophilia is he’s still conscious…apparently. Haha but seriously folks, this chapter was a bitch to write because of it but all the same I hope you enjoyed the angst! And as always, if you could spare a second to let me know what you thought, well then you’d make me a very happy writer indeed. :)
Just Being Me a.k.a Siany
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