Remember Me - Chapter 3 "Sleep Over"
Title Remember Me
Topic Torchwood
Main Pairing Jack/Ianto
Other Pairings 10th Doctor/Rose, 11th Doctor/Amy, Owen/Katie, Ianto/Lisa, one-sided Jack/John. That's all for now.
Summary The measure of immortality is taken in memories - and those that are left to remember. A simple story of the complicated life of Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones, starting at the end.
Rating PG-13 for minor suggestive content and, come on, it's Jack.
Genre Romance, fluff, angst
Warnings Character death
Author's Note Here be the next chappie. ^_^ Enjoy.
"Sleep Over"
"He's the exception that proves the rule." - Anonymous
Throughout the procession, there was a man that stood near the back of the crowd. He hunched over, trying to keep to himself - he didn't know many who were there - the only one that mattered was past the point of conversation. He had approached the coffin when it was open for viewing. He had cried then, and cursed the tears. He wasn't supposed to be weak like that - he was Owen bloody Harper for damn's sake. But he hadn't wiped them away.
He was tall and skinny - nothing much to him. He wore black clothes to signify mourning, yet those who knew him would have known that it was something that he could have worn Monday when going to the grocery store. He wasn't much one for color.
He had caught the attention of a few of the mourners. They gave him looks of contemptment, none of them knowing that he was the best friend of the deceased. And he let them look and whisper and come up with all kinds of stories as to why he was at the funeral - because in all honesty, he didn't give a care. He was there for Jack, and that was all that mattered.
He wandered the viewing room, glancing through the photographs. A small smile sprung to his lips as he took in the happier times. That was what they were showing here, memories of the better days. But Owen knew that the happiest times were not the ones caught on film. It was every moment in between.
He came to pictures of the wedding - Jack standing there as proud as he could be, Ianto next to him, looking as nervous as ever, but as deep in love as a person could get. And there he was, standing next to the older groom, giving the camera his signature I-don't-wanna-be-here look. It wasn't true, of course. He would have given the world to be there at that time for his friend, but no one needed to know that.
He moved on to the books, faintly hearing the eulogies start in the room next door, and realized that he was alone. He shrugged it off, and continued his trip down memory lane. They wouldn't want to hear anything he had to say anyway. Most of those people in the other room hadn't been there with Jack in his last days. Hadn't seen the pain he had gone through, hadn't spent sleepless nights with Ianto because his husband was unable to properly comfort him - that was what mattered.
Owen glared at the large pictures portraying Jack and sneered. "Bloody bastard, why did you have to leave him, huh? Broke his damn heart."
He ran his hand over the hardback books, wondering how many eyes would glance over the print and just throw them away, not even giving Jack the decency of reading the first chapter or so. How many people would actually read it, and become mesmerized by his captivating words? How many people would Jack Harkness live on within? Owen knew that that number would never be less than two.
"Owen - seriously." Jack pleaded, his hands folded in mock prayer, his head cocked slightly to the side and he was doing that thing with his lips that made one think of a puppy dog.
But Harper, who was used to Jack's begging, shrugged it off with a grumble. "I've got plans!"
"To stay in the apartment." Jack said flatly, his hands dropping to his side, his begging act leaving. He knew that Owen was just playing around with him - wanted to irk Jack, get him angry. The man could be so annoying.
Owen just shrugged and collapsed on the couch, grabbing for the remote, but not turning on the television. "What's so great about this bloke anyway?"
Jack leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. Owen watched this with a slightly disturbed look on his face. "He's amazing - nervous all the time, it's so cute. And he's got this great sense of humour…hot ass too."
Owen snorted and turned his attention back to the blank television. "From how you describe him, he sounds like a bloody introvert." He ignored the daggers that Jack's eyes were shooting at him. "Anyway - why so much preparation? Bring 'em somewhere with a comfortable bed, fuck him, then part ways - love 'em then leave 'em."
Jack rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest and settling in to glare at his flat mate. "Says the man halfway through the process of moving in with his girlfriend - " He gestured to the packed boxes sitting near the door. " - and it's not like that."
"Oh, come on Jack. It's not like I don't know that you've been foolin' around with the prick for the past couple weeks - I actually do notice when you get back late." Owen pointed out, abandoning the television and pulling himself to his feet, his fingers tugging on the edge of his shirt. He treaded slowly into the kitchen, opening the fridge and bent over, rummaging through the contents.
Jack made a pointed effort to stare at Owen's backside, snickering - knowing that it would piss the other man off. "What makes you think that every relationship I have revolves around sex?"
Owen stood up at this, a small cup of yogurt in his hands. He dug through the silverware drawer, bringing out a plastic spoon. He made his way back to the couch in silence, sitting down with a plop, his mouth forming into an 'O' as he came to the conclusion that Jack had been subtly hinting at. "You two haven't shagged yet."
Jack's uncomfortable shifting gave the man the answer he needed, and Owen started to laugh. "Oh my god. Someone call the press. Jack bloody Harkness has been dating for weeks without getting' some!"
"Shut it." Jack grumbled, plopping down next to Owen and giving him a good thwack on the head.
Owen expressed loudly his opinion of the physical contact, then continued grinning, giving Jack the shiftiest look possible. Then, the skinny man leaned in close, and a single word was whispered. "Whipped."
Jack growled and punched Owen hard in the shoulder. The man yelped and shot up off the couch, laughing as he made a quick exit. He stuck his head back through the apartment door for a quick second, sticking his tongue out. He ducked back out quicker that thought possible, however, when Jack's shoe came after him.
"And don't come back!" Jack yelled after him, chuckling to himself before turning and heading toward the kitchen, immersing himself into the preparations for that night.
--xXx--
Ianto couldn't remember a time that he was ever as nervous as he was now. His fifth grade graduation was a cakewalk compared to this, and coming out to his parents - and his girlfriend - seemed like a walk in the park. Because at that moment, Ianto thought that his hands were going to shake right off of his body, that his feet were going to forget how to walk, and his heart would just give out.
He reached slowly into his trench coat pocket, taking twice as long as usual to withdraw the cigarettes. He had to stop in the middle of the sidewalk to concentrate, and it took several tries to actually light the damn thing. The moment he stuck it in his mouth and began to take a long drag he felt calmer - but only just. He resumed his slow pace again, walking toward what was the most looked-forward to and dreaded night of his life.
Jack had invited him to his flat for dinner. He wanted to cook for him. Of course, the offer itself was innocent and more than slightly romantic. But the underlying demand was there, and that was what Ianto was so caught up about. Because when a guy invited you over to his flat for dinner, it would be more accurate for him to just come out and say "I'm getting bored and wanna have sex with you."
Ianto was surprised - actually, that Jack hadn't pressured him earlier. They had been going on dates for the better part of a month, and - all innuendo and suggestive looks aside - Jack had been rather calm. They had participated in several snog fests - Ianto would never look at the broom cupboard at his work or the old book closet where Jack worked the same again - and the occasional grope, but the older man had never once seriously asked. Until now, that is.
And Ianto didn't want to loose him. He didn't want to have to let go of Jack, not yet. He couldn't. In the past few weeks, he had been able to cut down his cigarette intake in half, and found that he could talk about anything around the man. Ianto could truly be himself. It wasn't only that, though. It was the way that Jack made him feel - like he was important, special, something other than the worthless coffee boy that everyone told him he was. Ianto wasn't willing to say it out loud, but he had found himself thinking it after every date - he was falling in love.
But he was still scared about having sex.
That was one thing that he hadn't told Jack about himself - he had never slept with a man before - scratch that, anyone before. Fooled around, yeah. But actually finish the deed? Ianto had never been able to do it. Atmosphere wasn't right, or the person wasn't worth it. And Ianto was scared that if he told Jack that, the man would loose interest, and just dump him.
The thoughts caused Ianto to almost drop his cigarette, and he cursed to himself, taking another really long drag. He pulled his coat closer and continued on his way. The bookstore was only a few blocks further away, and he was already going to be a few minutes late. Ianto went to grab his phone, but hesitated. Would it seem weird if he called just to say that he would be a couple minutes late? Maybe he should cancel - come up with some random excuse. Tosh in town, maybe? Ianto shook himself out of those thoughts, Jack would find out eventually.
Ianto flicked his now useless cigarette into a rubbish bin as he passed, pausing only long enough to light up another. He had had the whole day off, and he spent the majority of the morning cleaning his flat, re-moving the furniture, making to-do lists - tidying up overall. Then he had sat down and wrote in his journal before re-reading his Jack ones. At first, Ianto had taken to writing about Jack in his regular, day-to-day diaries. However, as time passed, Ianto spent the money on buying a special one just for the man. Since then, he had almost filled the entire thing up with new facts and tidbits about the man - including the short story about why he was living in Cardiff while having an American accent.
Time to meet the American came all too soon, and Ianto had found himself buttoning up his coat with a small sense of dread filling in the pit of his stomach. That, and his nerves growing steadily greater.
The lettering of Jack's work place greeted Ianto when he turned the corner, and he quickly stubbed out what was left of his cigarette. He took a few large, calming breathes, then entered the store.
The smell of old books and the taste of heavy, dust-filled air hit Ianto as soon as he stepped inside. The store was small, and every inch of floor and wall space was covered in books. The shelves sat closely together, only enough room for a man with narrow shoulders to fit through without having to turn. The front desk was so covered in stacks that, unless someone pointed it out specifically, one wouldn't be able to find it.
A familiar head poked out from behind one of the many overburdened shelves, followed by the rest of it's body. Jack's smiling face approached Ianto, and leaned in for a quick kiss. Ianto's body automatically molded into the other man's, and he found his nerves washing away far more effectively than the nicotine was able to. It ended all too soon, and Jack's face was now supporting a small frown. It disappeared quickly, however, and the man's eyes once again lit up. "Ready to go?"
Ianto nodded, and Jack's fingers reached out to entwine with his as the man called out to his boss. "Doctor, I'm leaving with that cute young Welshman that I told you I'm going to run away with!"
"Don't come back without a story!" A voice shot back from somewhere deep within the store.
Jack chuckled and released Ianto's hand only long enough to pull on his warm coat. He re-connected their fingers as he pushed out of the door, away from the warmth and coziness of the bookstore and into the cold wilderness of Cardiff.
Jack breathed in a healthy gulp of air as he walked, and Ianto moved a little closer. He never liked the cold like Jack seemed to - although seeing how much heat the man radiated, Ianto guessed he could run around naked in the dead of winter and still not feel the effect.
"Why do you call him Doctor?" Ianto asked. Jack had called him that since the first time Ianto had visited the store, but he never asked why.
Jack turned his eyes to look at him, then gave a small smirk. "He likes the 'Book Doctor.' Can fix anything with a cover. I call him that to annoy him."
That sounded like Jack. They got to the SUV a few minutes later; Jack had to park a while away since his store didn't have any private parking, and he had taken the later shift that day. Ianto hopped into the passenger's seat and relaxed, making himself comfortable as Jack pumped up the heat. They sat there for a few moments, allowing the engine to warm so that they could drive. They both shed their coats after a few minutes, then threw them into the back seat.
"Hope you like pasta." Jack said teasingly.
Ianto smirked. "As long as it's not the long and skinny kind." The combination of smoking, Jack's kiss, and warmth had slowly chipped away at Ianto's nerves.
Jack laughed and reached over, stroking Ianto's cheeks softly with his thumb. "Your cheeks are red." He said. Ianto blushed, adding to the color, causing the American to elicit another chuckle.
Jack glanced at the dashboard, his eyes lighting up as he read the dials. "He's all warmed up and ready to go."
Ianto raised an eyebrow at this - never heard Jack call his car by a gender before. Jack just shrugged. "What - I wouldn't want to be inside of a woman all the time."
And this time, Ianto laughed.
--xXx--
If Ianto could have used one word to describe Jack's flat, he would have used 'home.' Because it had that look to it - that it was more than a place suitable for living. There was hints of Jack and his roommate everywhere, from the mismatched furniture to the untidy stack of DVD's that sat next to the television. The only thing that didn't make sense was the boxes that were neatly packed and waiting by the door to be whisked away.
"Moving?" Ianto asked as he stuck his hands deep into his jean pockets, unable to find a better place for them.
"Owen, my roommate. Moving to his girlfriend's place across town." Jack said from the kitchen, where he had disappeared to as soon as they entered. The man's head now poked out of the open doorway. "Come on."
He withdrew back into the kitchen, and Ianto awkwardly followed. He felt out of place in this messy, yet organized state of living - if that made any sense.
"You ok?" Jack asked, and Ianto nodded without thinking about the question. Sure, he was ok, he just felt nervous and out of place and had no idea what to do.
"I know that nod. That's your 'I don't wanna say anything' nod. Come on, Yan." Jack said as he reached into the cupboard, pulling out plates for the pasta, which he had cooked earlier that day. He then dove into the fridge and started to pull out all the extras to go with the dinner.
Ianto sighed and retreated further into his clothes. "It's just…I've never…been cooked for…dunno what to do."
Jack chuckled, and reached forward, grabbing Ianto's arm and pulling him in closer, laying a soft kiss on his forehead. "If you wanted to help, you could of just asked instead of getting all shaky on me."
Ianto took his hands out of his pockets, and true to Jack's word, they were shaking. He closed his eyes and breathed, trying to calm down. But, unlike their usual effects, Jack's scent and his closeness was only causing him more stress. "I - bathroom?"
"Huh?" Jack asked, worry in his eyes. "Oh, yeah. Down the hall, second door."
Ianto gave a small smile and nodded. Misreading Jack's worry for annoyance, he tried to fix it, planting a soft kiss on his lips before retreating.
He left the small entrance and walked down the short hallway. The first door was slightly open portraying a bedroom that was stripped bare - the walls sported holes that showed where frames used to hang and the floor had patches of discoloration, giving away the spots where furniture used to sit. There were several packed boxes that matched those sitting by the door - the only thing left was a small bed, which was still made. Ianto continued on quickly, feeling awkward imposing on Jack's roommate's private place.
He got to where the second door was located, but paused. For there were two doors, each on one side of the hall, both located in almost the same spot. Which one was he supposed to go into? Ianto hesitated, then pushed through the one on his right.
And walked into someplace that definitely was not a bathroom.
It was a small study, a desk too large for the room squished up against the far wall, it's ancient antique oak standing out against the other furniture Ianto had seen. It was covered with papers blotched with typing ink. There was a small personal printer that seemed out of place among the papers, and a rectangular spot on top of the desk void of anything - it must have been where Jack kept his computer.
But the desk was barely cluttered compared to the rest of the room. For the walls were covered in hundreds of sheets of paper, all tacked on with thumbnails or even staples. Some of them carried words - half written poems or the beginnings of some story or another. Others were the canvas for a sketch, may it be flowers or a random chair or even the parts of a face. There was not a single inch of wall to be seen between the clutter. The floor was the same way, organized in chaotic stacks of printed-paper. Some of them had title pages, while others jumped right in. Ianto glanced at the words starting the pile closest to him and found it starting in the middle of a sentence.
His curiosity piqued, Ianto ventured further into the room, awed by the marvelous view surrounding him. His fingers itched to touch it all, organize it. Shelves, maybe. Filing cabinets. His nerves left him as he began to think about all the possibilities. Then, even those thoughts flew away.
For posted directly above the desk was a finished sketch - the first completed piece of work that Ianto had seen. And it was his face.
It must have been one of the days that Jack was sitting in the corner of the café, because Ianto recognized the blank look on his face. It was the one he adopted when he was halfway through a shift and desperately wanted to be somewhere else. The picture captured everything about him, if it hadn't of been so rough, Ianto might have thought that he was looking into a mirror.
"Like it?"
Ianto jumped and turned, his eyes wide, his face quickly turning red. "Jack! I - I didn't - I mean…"
He drifted off, thoroughly embarrassed to be caught in the middle of what was obviously a very private place of Jack's. But when Ianto looked into the other man's eyes, he didn't see anger. Just indecisiveness.
"You like it?" Jack asked, nodding toward the sketch. It was then that Ianto noticed the other man was carrying two glasses of red wine. Suddenly in need of some alcohol, Ianto took a tentative step forward. Jack outstretched his hand and Ianto completed the journey, taking the glass from his hand and sipping it experimentally. It was good, so he took some more.
"Jack, it's…" Ianto breathed, unable to come up with a proper word, so he settled with "perfect." He heard as Jack let out a large breath, and Ianto realized that the American had been nervous about whether or not he would like it. "What is all of this?" He asked.
"My life." Jack said, a hint of pride leaking into his words. "This, Ianto Jones, is my legacy."
Jack stepped further into the room, standing in the middle of the floor, turning, taking it all in for what must have been the millionth time. "All of the books I started to write, all my drawings, muses, thoughts, regrets. It's all here."
Ianto's breath was taken away as he listened to Jack speak, the pride and raw emotion that filtered through the American's words was awe-inspiring. "Why…" He ventured, hesitating. "…is nothing….finished?"
Jack's face fell a bit, then he shrugged, the moment passing. "Never had the right kind of inspiration, I guess. I've sent a few pieces off to publishers, but they wont sign anything until I give them finished product."
Then he glanced at Ianto and a soft, genuine smile lit up his entire face. "Dinner's ready." The American grazed past Ianto on his way out of the room, intentionally brushing up against the Welshman. Ianto chuckled, and took one last look around the room before following Jack. It didn't escape his attention that the drawing of him was the only finished thing in the room.
--xXx--
Dinner passed rather quickly, the food being so wonderful. Ianto had been instantly jealous, and had quickly told Jack that. The man was positively beaming from all the praise, and Ianto had found himself shedding the uncomfortablness within minutes of sitting down.
They had surpassed the table for a more intimate setting, Jack insisting that they sat on the floor and used the low coffee table for resting their plates. So they sat on the floor, using the large couch as a backrest, leaning against each other as they ate. Their wine glasses sat on the coffee table with the bottle, and soon after were replaced by their empty bowls.
Ianto took another sip of his wine and shifted a bit, his arm that was pressing against Jack's falling asleep. Jack moved as well, and entwined their fingers, threading them together. Ianto smiled, feeling happier than he had ever been in a long time. "Tell me about your stories."
"Hmm?" Jack asked lazily, swirling the red liquid around in his glass.
"Your writing. I want to hear about it." Ianto murmured.
"It's all boring, honest." Jack said, his thumb starting to draw circles on his glass.
Ianto rolled his eyes and sat up, disconnecting himself from Jack and crossing his arms. "I'm sure." He said dryly.
Jack chuckled, loving this side of the Welshman. "Well, there is this one that I'm working on."
"Really?" Ianto asked, automatically interested.
Jack nodded. "Yeah. It's about this dashing Captain and his devilishly handsome assistant."
"Go on." Ianto said, moving back to his previous position. The wine and calmness of the atmosphere was lulling him into security and sleepiness.
"Well, the Captain is the leader of this force of World War II soldiers, and he leads them into many battles, looses lots of men, but always making it out by the skin of his teeth. At the end of the day he goes back to his barracks and gets a warm cup of coffee and a soft kiss behind closed doors from his assistant." Jack explained, watching Ianto, wanting to know the man's reaction.
Ianto frowned a little bit, a small crease forming in his forehead. "But, wasn't that illegal then?"
"MmmHmm." Jack answered, smiling. "But to the Captain, it was worth every moment."
And then Ianto closed his eyes and smiled, and felt Jack's warm breath on his face, followed by the now-familiar feeling of Jack's lips on his.
Ianto let go of his wine glass, gently and carefully setting it onto the rug before shifting for a better angle. He parted his lips and allowed Jack to take control. Hundreds of colors burst behind eyelids as their tongues met, and Ianto let out a soft moan. He felt Jack's hands firmly on either side of his face, and Ianto's own hands struggled to get around the man's waist.
Ianto slipped and grunted as he found himself falling forward, hitting Jack's chest with a grunt. He opened his eyes and found that Jack was lying beneath him on the floor, himself splayed on top of the American. They lay there, breathing heavily for a few seconds, hearts beating erratically.
Then Ianto dipped his head down and connected their lips once again. This time, the kiss was heated - needing. The pure force of the connection caused Ianto's head to spin, and before he knew what was happening, he was on his back, the American straddling his hips, fingers inching up his shirt. Ianto's own hands started to explore Jack's chest, slipping under his shirt and onto his hard, muscle-toned chest.
Jack broke the kiss and Ianto made a soft sound that seemed almost like a whine. He opened his eyes and found himself staring into bright blue ones that teemed with lust. Jack broke the gaze and sat up, pulling his shirt off before grabbing the edges of Ianto's. The Welshman did nothing to stop him, and suddenly both of them were shirtless. Jack's fingers played with the dark hair that decorated Ianto's chest, gasping as Ianto reached up and grabbed the back of Jack's head and pulled him into another kiss.
They stayed like that a few minutes longer, both of them re-acquainting themselves with the other's upper body. It was when Jack started to undo Ianto's belt, though, that the young man hesitated.
"Jack…" He managed to gasp out, the indecision and nervousness from earlier that evening crashing back into him like a typhoon.
The American stopped and glanced up, frowning as he saw the fear in Ianto's eyes and how he had started to shake again. "Ianto, what's wrong?"
He sat up and rolled off the top of Ianto, sitting up and ignoring what his body was screaming for. Jack took the younger man's hands in his own in attempt to stop their erratic movement. "Ianto?"
Ianto sat up as well, biting his bottom lip and tugging his hands out from Jack's grasp. His unsteady fingers reached for his shirt, but Jack stopped him. Ianto let out a shaky breath and forced himself to look into Jack's face. He told himself that he was being stupid, irrational. He wanted Jack, he really did. But he couldn't stop his mind from going into panic mode. Not when he had just drunk a bottle of wine and was in Jack's apartment and… "I - I'm sorry…"
Jack frowned and pulled Ianto in close, hugging him, ignoring the need for a desperately cold shower. "Sorry for what?"
"I…I just can't…haven't" Ianto stuttered, hating how he wasn't able to form coherent thoughts.
"Haven't…" Jack drifted off as his mind clicked the puzzle pieces into place. "Ianto." He said, pulling the man far enough away to look him dead in the eye. "We don't have to…if you don't want to, you know."
Ianto frowned as he heard Jack's words. The doubts that had been whispering loudly in his ear became a little softer, as the American dispelled any facts that had been holding them up. Jack hadn't pushed him away, or yelled, or forced. He had said ok. The rational fears became irrational, giving Ianto a little control over his thoughts. "It's just…I do want to…but…"
"I said it's ok, Ianto. Really." Then Jack unwrapped his arms from around Ianto's stomach and stood up, grabbing his t-shirt and throwing it back on. "I'm going to take a shower, clean up, then we can watch a movie or something. Don't disappear on me."
He leaned over and planted one last kiss on Ianto's forehead before leaving the room. Ianto sat there, his trembling fingers fighting to pull his shirt back over his head. He then ran his hands through his hair and brushed off all the invisible lint from his shirt. Desperately needing to either go outside for a smoke, or clean something, Ianto started to pick up the dinner plates and take them into the kitchen. He didn't want to go outside, fearing that Jack would come back and think he had left.
Ianto turned on the water and started to scrub the dishes. Slowly, his hands stopped shaking and his heartbeat slowed to its natural rhythm. The invading thoughts slowly slipped away, and he was left with just himself again.
He was so intent on cleaning up, that he didn't hear Jack as he entered the kitchen, his hair wet from the shower, and his clothes changed into something more comfortable - a white t-shirt and a pair of sweats. "Ianto, I think they're clean."
The second time that night Ianto jumped due to Jack's account. He glanced down and realized that the American was right - everything in the sink was already clean. Ianto coughed and turned off the water, leaning his back against the sink and hugging himself as he looked at Jack.
"I'm sorry. That I ruined tonight." Ianto said awkwardly.
Jack shook his head. "You didn't. I had a great time." He stepped forward, reaching out to take Ianto's hand. The Welshman barely hesitated before returning the gesture and Jack pulled him in, giving his a chaste kiss on the lips. "I don't know about you, but I'm too tired for a movie."
"I…I guess I'll be going then." Ianto said, pulling away. But Jack's strong arm around his waist stopped him from going anywhere, and he looked at the man with puzzled eyes.
"Stay here tonight." Jack murmured.
"I don't have clothes." Ianto spit out, the offer catching him unawares. He thought that, in any normal relationship, sleeping over was only contingent on shagging.
"I do." Jack said with a smile.
And that was the moment that Ianto stopped thinking that his relationship with Jack was normal.
Topic Torchwood
Main Pairing Jack/Ianto
Other Pairings 10th Doctor/Rose, 11th Doctor/Amy, Owen/Katie, Ianto/Lisa, one-sided Jack/John. That's all for now.
Summary The measure of immortality is taken in memories - and those that are left to remember. A simple story of the complicated life of Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones, starting at the end.
Rating PG-13 for minor suggestive content and, come on, it's Jack.
Genre Romance, fluff, angst
Warnings Character death
Author's Note Here be the next chappie. ^_^ Enjoy.
"Sleep Over"
"He's the exception that proves the rule." - Anonymous
Throughout the procession, there was a man that stood near the back of the crowd. He hunched over, trying to keep to himself - he didn't know many who were there - the only one that mattered was past the point of conversation. He had approached the coffin when it was open for viewing. He had cried then, and cursed the tears. He wasn't supposed to be weak like that - he was Owen bloody Harper for damn's sake. But he hadn't wiped them away.
He was tall and skinny - nothing much to him. He wore black clothes to signify mourning, yet those who knew him would have known that it was something that he could have worn Monday when going to the grocery store. He wasn't much one for color.
He had caught the attention of a few of the mourners. They gave him looks of contemptment, none of them knowing that he was the best friend of the deceased. And he let them look and whisper and come up with all kinds of stories as to why he was at the funeral - because in all honesty, he didn't give a care. He was there for Jack, and that was all that mattered.
He wandered the viewing room, glancing through the photographs. A small smile sprung to his lips as he took in the happier times. That was what they were showing here, memories of the better days. But Owen knew that the happiest times were not the ones caught on film. It was every moment in between.
He came to pictures of the wedding - Jack standing there as proud as he could be, Ianto next to him, looking as nervous as ever, but as deep in love as a person could get. And there he was, standing next to the older groom, giving the camera his signature I-don't-wanna-be-here look. It wasn't true, of course. He would have given the world to be there at that time for his friend, but no one needed to know that.
He moved on to the books, faintly hearing the eulogies start in the room next door, and realized that he was alone. He shrugged it off, and continued his trip down memory lane. They wouldn't want to hear anything he had to say anyway. Most of those people in the other room hadn't been there with Jack in his last days. Hadn't seen the pain he had gone through, hadn't spent sleepless nights with Ianto because his husband was unable to properly comfort him - that was what mattered.
Owen glared at the large pictures portraying Jack and sneered. "Bloody bastard, why did you have to leave him, huh? Broke his damn heart."
He ran his hand over the hardback books, wondering how many eyes would glance over the print and just throw them away, not even giving Jack the decency of reading the first chapter or so. How many people would actually read it, and become mesmerized by his captivating words? How many people would Jack Harkness live on within? Owen knew that that number would never be less than two.
"Owen - seriously." Jack pleaded, his hands folded in mock prayer, his head cocked slightly to the side and he was doing that thing with his lips that made one think of a puppy dog.
But Harper, who was used to Jack's begging, shrugged it off with a grumble. "I've got plans!"
"To stay in the apartment." Jack said flatly, his hands dropping to his side, his begging act leaving. He knew that Owen was just playing around with him - wanted to irk Jack, get him angry. The man could be so annoying.
Owen just shrugged and collapsed on the couch, grabbing for the remote, but not turning on the television. "What's so great about this bloke anyway?"
Jack leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. Owen watched this with a slightly disturbed look on his face. "He's amazing - nervous all the time, it's so cute. And he's got this great sense of humour…hot ass too."
Owen snorted and turned his attention back to the blank television. "From how you describe him, he sounds like a bloody introvert." He ignored the daggers that Jack's eyes were shooting at him. "Anyway - why so much preparation? Bring 'em somewhere with a comfortable bed, fuck him, then part ways - love 'em then leave 'em."
Jack rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest and settling in to glare at his flat mate. "Says the man halfway through the process of moving in with his girlfriend - " He gestured to the packed boxes sitting near the door. " - and it's not like that."
"Oh, come on Jack. It's not like I don't know that you've been foolin' around with the prick for the past couple weeks - I actually do notice when you get back late." Owen pointed out, abandoning the television and pulling himself to his feet, his fingers tugging on the edge of his shirt. He treaded slowly into the kitchen, opening the fridge and bent over, rummaging through the contents.
Jack made a pointed effort to stare at Owen's backside, snickering - knowing that it would piss the other man off. "What makes you think that every relationship I have revolves around sex?"
Owen stood up at this, a small cup of yogurt in his hands. He dug through the silverware drawer, bringing out a plastic spoon. He made his way back to the couch in silence, sitting down with a plop, his mouth forming into an 'O' as he came to the conclusion that Jack had been subtly hinting at. "You two haven't shagged yet."
Jack's uncomfortable shifting gave the man the answer he needed, and Owen started to laugh. "Oh my god. Someone call the press. Jack bloody Harkness has been dating for weeks without getting' some!"
"Shut it." Jack grumbled, plopping down next to Owen and giving him a good thwack on the head.
Owen expressed loudly his opinion of the physical contact, then continued grinning, giving Jack the shiftiest look possible. Then, the skinny man leaned in close, and a single word was whispered. "Whipped."
Jack growled and punched Owen hard in the shoulder. The man yelped and shot up off the couch, laughing as he made a quick exit. He stuck his head back through the apartment door for a quick second, sticking his tongue out. He ducked back out quicker that thought possible, however, when Jack's shoe came after him.
"And don't come back!" Jack yelled after him, chuckling to himself before turning and heading toward the kitchen, immersing himself into the preparations for that night.
--xXx--
Ianto couldn't remember a time that he was ever as nervous as he was now. His fifth grade graduation was a cakewalk compared to this, and coming out to his parents - and his girlfriend - seemed like a walk in the park. Because at that moment, Ianto thought that his hands were going to shake right off of his body, that his feet were going to forget how to walk, and his heart would just give out.
He reached slowly into his trench coat pocket, taking twice as long as usual to withdraw the cigarettes. He had to stop in the middle of the sidewalk to concentrate, and it took several tries to actually light the damn thing. The moment he stuck it in his mouth and began to take a long drag he felt calmer - but only just. He resumed his slow pace again, walking toward what was the most looked-forward to and dreaded night of his life.
Jack had invited him to his flat for dinner. He wanted to cook for him. Of course, the offer itself was innocent and more than slightly romantic. But the underlying demand was there, and that was what Ianto was so caught up about. Because when a guy invited you over to his flat for dinner, it would be more accurate for him to just come out and say "I'm getting bored and wanna have sex with you."
Ianto was surprised - actually, that Jack hadn't pressured him earlier. They had been going on dates for the better part of a month, and - all innuendo and suggestive looks aside - Jack had been rather calm. They had participated in several snog fests - Ianto would never look at the broom cupboard at his work or the old book closet where Jack worked the same again - and the occasional grope, but the older man had never once seriously asked. Until now, that is.
And Ianto didn't want to loose him. He didn't want to have to let go of Jack, not yet. He couldn't. In the past few weeks, he had been able to cut down his cigarette intake in half, and found that he could talk about anything around the man. Ianto could truly be himself. It wasn't only that, though. It was the way that Jack made him feel - like he was important, special, something other than the worthless coffee boy that everyone told him he was. Ianto wasn't willing to say it out loud, but he had found himself thinking it after every date - he was falling in love.
But he was still scared about having sex.
That was one thing that he hadn't told Jack about himself - he had never slept with a man before - scratch that, anyone before. Fooled around, yeah. But actually finish the deed? Ianto had never been able to do it. Atmosphere wasn't right, or the person wasn't worth it. And Ianto was scared that if he told Jack that, the man would loose interest, and just dump him.
The thoughts caused Ianto to almost drop his cigarette, and he cursed to himself, taking another really long drag. He pulled his coat closer and continued on his way. The bookstore was only a few blocks further away, and he was already going to be a few minutes late. Ianto went to grab his phone, but hesitated. Would it seem weird if he called just to say that he would be a couple minutes late? Maybe he should cancel - come up with some random excuse. Tosh in town, maybe? Ianto shook himself out of those thoughts, Jack would find out eventually.
Ianto flicked his now useless cigarette into a rubbish bin as he passed, pausing only long enough to light up another. He had had the whole day off, and he spent the majority of the morning cleaning his flat, re-moving the furniture, making to-do lists - tidying up overall. Then he had sat down and wrote in his journal before re-reading his Jack ones. At first, Ianto had taken to writing about Jack in his regular, day-to-day diaries. However, as time passed, Ianto spent the money on buying a special one just for the man. Since then, he had almost filled the entire thing up with new facts and tidbits about the man - including the short story about why he was living in Cardiff while having an American accent.
Time to meet the American came all too soon, and Ianto had found himself buttoning up his coat with a small sense of dread filling in the pit of his stomach. That, and his nerves growing steadily greater.
The lettering of Jack's work place greeted Ianto when he turned the corner, and he quickly stubbed out what was left of his cigarette. He took a few large, calming breathes, then entered the store.
The smell of old books and the taste of heavy, dust-filled air hit Ianto as soon as he stepped inside. The store was small, and every inch of floor and wall space was covered in books. The shelves sat closely together, only enough room for a man with narrow shoulders to fit through without having to turn. The front desk was so covered in stacks that, unless someone pointed it out specifically, one wouldn't be able to find it.
A familiar head poked out from behind one of the many overburdened shelves, followed by the rest of it's body. Jack's smiling face approached Ianto, and leaned in for a quick kiss. Ianto's body automatically molded into the other man's, and he found his nerves washing away far more effectively than the nicotine was able to. It ended all too soon, and Jack's face was now supporting a small frown. It disappeared quickly, however, and the man's eyes once again lit up. "Ready to go?"
Ianto nodded, and Jack's fingers reached out to entwine with his as the man called out to his boss. "Doctor, I'm leaving with that cute young Welshman that I told you I'm going to run away with!"
"Don't come back without a story!" A voice shot back from somewhere deep within the store.
Jack chuckled and released Ianto's hand only long enough to pull on his warm coat. He re-connected their fingers as he pushed out of the door, away from the warmth and coziness of the bookstore and into the cold wilderness of Cardiff.
Jack breathed in a healthy gulp of air as he walked, and Ianto moved a little closer. He never liked the cold like Jack seemed to - although seeing how much heat the man radiated, Ianto guessed he could run around naked in the dead of winter and still not feel the effect.
"Why do you call him Doctor?" Ianto asked. Jack had called him that since the first time Ianto had visited the store, but he never asked why.
Jack turned his eyes to look at him, then gave a small smirk. "He likes the 'Book Doctor.' Can fix anything with a cover. I call him that to annoy him."
That sounded like Jack. They got to the SUV a few minutes later; Jack had to park a while away since his store didn't have any private parking, and he had taken the later shift that day. Ianto hopped into the passenger's seat and relaxed, making himself comfortable as Jack pumped up the heat. They sat there for a few moments, allowing the engine to warm so that they could drive. They both shed their coats after a few minutes, then threw them into the back seat.
"Hope you like pasta." Jack said teasingly.
Ianto smirked. "As long as it's not the long and skinny kind." The combination of smoking, Jack's kiss, and warmth had slowly chipped away at Ianto's nerves.
Jack laughed and reached over, stroking Ianto's cheeks softly with his thumb. "Your cheeks are red." He said. Ianto blushed, adding to the color, causing the American to elicit another chuckle.
Jack glanced at the dashboard, his eyes lighting up as he read the dials. "He's all warmed up and ready to go."
Ianto raised an eyebrow at this - never heard Jack call his car by a gender before. Jack just shrugged. "What - I wouldn't want to be inside of a woman all the time."
And this time, Ianto laughed.
--xXx--
If Ianto could have used one word to describe Jack's flat, he would have used 'home.' Because it had that look to it - that it was more than a place suitable for living. There was hints of Jack and his roommate everywhere, from the mismatched furniture to the untidy stack of DVD's that sat next to the television. The only thing that didn't make sense was the boxes that were neatly packed and waiting by the door to be whisked away.
"Moving?" Ianto asked as he stuck his hands deep into his jean pockets, unable to find a better place for them.
"Owen, my roommate. Moving to his girlfriend's place across town." Jack said from the kitchen, where he had disappeared to as soon as they entered. The man's head now poked out of the open doorway. "Come on."
He withdrew back into the kitchen, and Ianto awkwardly followed. He felt out of place in this messy, yet organized state of living - if that made any sense.
"You ok?" Jack asked, and Ianto nodded without thinking about the question. Sure, he was ok, he just felt nervous and out of place and had no idea what to do.
"I know that nod. That's your 'I don't wanna say anything' nod. Come on, Yan." Jack said as he reached into the cupboard, pulling out plates for the pasta, which he had cooked earlier that day. He then dove into the fridge and started to pull out all the extras to go with the dinner.
Ianto sighed and retreated further into his clothes. "It's just…I've never…been cooked for…dunno what to do."
Jack chuckled, and reached forward, grabbing Ianto's arm and pulling him in closer, laying a soft kiss on his forehead. "If you wanted to help, you could of just asked instead of getting all shaky on me."
Ianto took his hands out of his pockets, and true to Jack's word, they were shaking. He closed his eyes and breathed, trying to calm down. But, unlike their usual effects, Jack's scent and his closeness was only causing him more stress. "I - bathroom?"
"Huh?" Jack asked, worry in his eyes. "Oh, yeah. Down the hall, second door."
Ianto gave a small smile and nodded. Misreading Jack's worry for annoyance, he tried to fix it, planting a soft kiss on his lips before retreating.
He left the small entrance and walked down the short hallway. The first door was slightly open portraying a bedroom that was stripped bare - the walls sported holes that showed where frames used to hang and the floor had patches of discoloration, giving away the spots where furniture used to sit. There were several packed boxes that matched those sitting by the door - the only thing left was a small bed, which was still made. Ianto continued on quickly, feeling awkward imposing on Jack's roommate's private place.
He got to where the second door was located, but paused. For there were two doors, each on one side of the hall, both located in almost the same spot. Which one was he supposed to go into? Ianto hesitated, then pushed through the one on his right.
And walked into someplace that definitely was not a bathroom.
It was a small study, a desk too large for the room squished up against the far wall, it's ancient antique oak standing out against the other furniture Ianto had seen. It was covered with papers blotched with typing ink. There was a small personal printer that seemed out of place among the papers, and a rectangular spot on top of the desk void of anything - it must have been where Jack kept his computer.
But the desk was barely cluttered compared to the rest of the room. For the walls were covered in hundreds of sheets of paper, all tacked on with thumbnails or even staples. Some of them carried words - half written poems or the beginnings of some story or another. Others were the canvas for a sketch, may it be flowers or a random chair or even the parts of a face. There was not a single inch of wall to be seen between the clutter. The floor was the same way, organized in chaotic stacks of printed-paper. Some of them had title pages, while others jumped right in. Ianto glanced at the words starting the pile closest to him and found it starting in the middle of a sentence.
His curiosity piqued, Ianto ventured further into the room, awed by the marvelous view surrounding him. His fingers itched to touch it all, organize it. Shelves, maybe. Filing cabinets. His nerves left him as he began to think about all the possibilities. Then, even those thoughts flew away.
For posted directly above the desk was a finished sketch - the first completed piece of work that Ianto had seen. And it was his face.
It must have been one of the days that Jack was sitting in the corner of the café, because Ianto recognized the blank look on his face. It was the one he adopted when he was halfway through a shift and desperately wanted to be somewhere else. The picture captured everything about him, if it hadn't of been so rough, Ianto might have thought that he was looking into a mirror.
"Like it?"
Ianto jumped and turned, his eyes wide, his face quickly turning red. "Jack! I - I didn't - I mean…"
He drifted off, thoroughly embarrassed to be caught in the middle of what was obviously a very private place of Jack's. But when Ianto looked into the other man's eyes, he didn't see anger. Just indecisiveness.
"You like it?" Jack asked, nodding toward the sketch. It was then that Ianto noticed the other man was carrying two glasses of red wine. Suddenly in need of some alcohol, Ianto took a tentative step forward. Jack outstretched his hand and Ianto completed the journey, taking the glass from his hand and sipping it experimentally. It was good, so he took some more.
"Jack, it's…" Ianto breathed, unable to come up with a proper word, so he settled with "perfect." He heard as Jack let out a large breath, and Ianto realized that the American had been nervous about whether or not he would like it. "What is all of this?" He asked.
"My life." Jack said, a hint of pride leaking into his words. "This, Ianto Jones, is my legacy."
Jack stepped further into the room, standing in the middle of the floor, turning, taking it all in for what must have been the millionth time. "All of the books I started to write, all my drawings, muses, thoughts, regrets. It's all here."
Ianto's breath was taken away as he listened to Jack speak, the pride and raw emotion that filtered through the American's words was awe-inspiring. "Why…" He ventured, hesitating. "…is nothing….finished?"
Jack's face fell a bit, then he shrugged, the moment passing. "Never had the right kind of inspiration, I guess. I've sent a few pieces off to publishers, but they wont sign anything until I give them finished product."
Then he glanced at Ianto and a soft, genuine smile lit up his entire face. "Dinner's ready." The American grazed past Ianto on his way out of the room, intentionally brushing up against the Welshman. Ianto chuckled, and took one last look around the room before following Jack. It didn't escape his attention that the drawing of him was the only finished thing in the room.
--xXx--
Dinner passed rather quickly, the food being so wonderful. Ianto had been instantly jealous, and had quickly told Jack that. The man was positively beaming from all the praise, and Ianto had found himself shedding the uncomfortablness within minutes of sitting down.
They had surpassed the table for a more intimate setting, Jack insisting that they sat on the floor and used the low coffee table for resting their plates. So they sat on the floor, using the large couch as a backrest, leaning against each other as they ate. Their wine glasses sat on the coffee table with the bottle, and soon after were replaced by their empty bowls.
Ianto took another sip of his wine and shifted a bit, his arm that was pressing against Jack's falling asleep. Jack moved as well, and entwined their fingers, threading them together. Ianto smiled, feeling happier than he had ever been in a long time. "Tell me about your stories."
"Hmm?" Jack asked lazily, swirling the red liquid around in his glass.
"Your writing. I want to hear about it." Ianto murmured.
"It's all boring, honest." Jack said, his thumb starting to draw circles on his glass.
Ianto rolled his eyes and sat up, disconnecting himself from Jack and crossing his arms. "I'm sure." He said dryly.
Jack chuckled, loving this side of the Welshman. "Well, there is this one that I'm working on."
"Really?" Ianto asked, automatically interested.
Jack nodded. "Yeah. It's about this dashing Captain and his devilishly handsome assistant."
"Go on." Ianto said, moving back to his previous position. The wine and calmness of the atmosphere was lulling him into security and sleepiness.
"Well, the Captain is the leader of this force of World War II soldiers, and he leads them into many battles, looses lots of men, but always making it out by the skin of his teeth. At the end of the day he goes back to his barracks and gets a warm cup of coffee and a soft kiss behind closed doors from his assistant." Jack explained, watching Ianto, wanting to know the man's reaction.
Ianto frowned a little bit, a small crease forming in his forehead. "But, wasn't that illegal then?"
"MmmHmm." Jack answered, smiling. "But to the Captain, it was worth every moment."
And then Ianto closed his eyes and smiled, and felt Jack's warm breath on his face, followed by the now-familiar feeling of Jack's lips on his.
Ianto let go of his wine glass, gently and carefully setting it onto the rug before shifting for a better angle. He parted his lips and allowed Jack to take control. Hundreds of colors burst behind eyelids as their tongues met, and Ianto let out a soft moan. He felt Jack's hands firmly on either side of his face, and Ianto's own hands struggled to get around the man's waist.
Ianto slipped and grunted as he found himself falling forward, hitting Jack's chest with a grunt. He opened his eyes and found that Jack was lying beneath him on the floor, himself splayed on top of the American. They lay there, breathing heavily for a few seconds, hearts beating erratically.
Then Ianto dipped his head down and connected their lips once again. This time, the kiss was heated - needing. The pure force of the connection caused Ianto's head to spin, and before he knew what was happening, he was on his back, the American straddling his hips, fingers inching up his shirt. Ianto's own hands started to explore Jack's chest, slipping under his shirt and onto his hard, muscle-toned chest.
Jack broke the kiss and Ianto made a soft sound that seemed almost like a whine. He opened his eyes and found himself staring into bright blue ones that teemed with lust. Jack broke the gaze and sat up, pulling his shirt off before grabbing the edges of Ianto's. The Welshman did nothing to stop him, and suddenly both of them were shirtless. Jack's fingers played with the dark hair that decorated Ianto's chest, gasping as Ianto reached up and grabbed the back of Jack's head and pulled him into another kiss.
They stayed like that a few minutes longer, both of them re-acquainting themselves with the other's upper body. It was when Jack started to undo Ianto's belt, though, that the young man hesitated.
"Jack…" He managed to gasp out, the indecision and nervousness from earlier that evening crashing back into him like a typhoon.
The American stopped and glanced up, frowning as he saw the fear in Ianto's eyes and how he had started to shake again. "Ianto, what's wrong?"
He sat up and rolled off the top of Ianto, sitting up and ignoring what his body was screaming for. Jack took the younger man's hands in his own in attempt to stop their erratic movement. "Ianto?"
Ianto sat up as well, biting his bottom lip and tugging his hands out from Jack's grasp. His unsteady fingers reached for his shirt, but Jack stopped him. Ianto let out a shaky breath and forced himself to look into Jack's face. He told himself that he was being stupid, irrational. He wanted Jack, he really did. But he couldn't stop his mind from going into panic mode. Not when he had just drunk a bottle of wine and was in Jack's apartment and… "I - I'm sorry…"
Jack frowned and pulled Ianto in close, hugging him, ignoring the need for a desperately cold shower. "Sorry for what?"
"I…I just can't…haven't" Ianto stuttered, hating how he wasn't able to form coherent thoughts.
"Haven't…" Jack drifted off as his mind clicked the puzzle pieces into place. "Ianto." He said, pulling the man far enough away to look him dead in the eye. "We don't have to…if you don't want to, you know."
Ianto frowned as he heard Jack's words. The doubts that had been whispering loudly in his ear became a little softer, as the American dispelled any facts that had been holding them up. Jack hadn't pushed him away, or yelled, or forced. He had said ok. The rational fears became irrational, giving Ianto a little control over his thoughts. "It's just…I do want to…but…"
"I said it's ok, Ianto. Really." Then Jack unwrapped his arms from around Ianto's stomach and stood up, grabbing his t-shirt and throwing it back on. "I'm going to take a shower, clean up, then we can watch a movie or something. Don't disappear on me."
He leaned over and planted one last kiss on Ianto's forehead before leaving the room. Ianto sat there, his trembling fingers fighting to pull his shirt back over his head. He then ran his hands through his hair and brushed off all the invisible lint from his shirt. Desperately needing to either go outside for a smoke, or clean something, Ianto started to pick up the dinner plates and take them into the kitchen. He didn't want to go outside, fearing that Jack would come back and think he had left.
Ianto turned on the water and started to scrub the dishes. Slowly, his hands stopped shaking and his heartbeat slowed to its natural rhythm. The invading thoughts slowly slipped away, and he was left with just himself again.
He was so intent on cleaning up, that he didn't hear Jack as he entered the kitchen, his hair wet from the shower, and his clothes changed into something more comfortable - a white t-shirt and a pair of sweats. "Ianto, I think they're clean."
The second time that night Ianto jumped due to Jack's account. He glanced down and realized that the American was right - everything in the sink was already clean. Ianto coughed and turned off the water, leaning his back against the sink and hugging himself as he looked at Jack.
"I'm sorry. That I ruined tonight." Ianto said awkwardly.
Jack shook his head. "You didn't. I had a great time." He stepped forward, reaching out to take Ianto's hand. The Welshman barely hesitated before returning the gesture and Jack pulled him in, giving his a chaste kiss on the lips. "I don't know about you, but I'm too tired for a movie."
"I…I guess I'll be going then." Ianto said, pulling away. But Jack's strong arm around his waist stopped him from going anywhere, and he looked at the man with puzzled eyes.
"Stay here tonight." Jack murmured.
"I don't have clothes." Ianto spit out, the offer catching him unawares. He thought that, in any normal relationship, sleeping over was only contingent on shagging.
"I do." Jack said with a smile.
And that was the moment that Ianto stopped thinking that his relationship with Jack was normal.