Good Night Ianto pt 2 to Temper Jack/Ianto Torchwood PG
Title: Good Night Ianto Pt 2 to Temper companion to Insomniac
Parring: Jack/Ianto
Fandom: Torchwood
Summary: After Ianto's fit of temper going on night three of no sleep, Ianto calls his cousin in London and recives a very unexpected vistor at a very unexpected hour of the night. Pt 2 to Temper companion to Insomniac
Spoilers: none
Warnings: Some angst, but I promise not emo
Discalimer: BBC owns, I don't, I just play in their sand box. Either way, I'm making no money off this, so HA!
Author's notes: This is the direct sequel to Temper but I suppose you could read this on it's own (though it wouldn't make much sense if you didn't). Temper is the companion to Insomniac and you can read either as a standalone though they are meant to be a set. And I suggest should be read in that order. It's all hurt/comfort fluff for the most part, but definately fluff. Though this installment has more action that fluff and musings.
Speical Thanks: ericadawn16 for ultra fast betaing and encouragement. Seriously, when I win an Oscar or the Nobel Prize for Literature or the Pultzier Prize I'll write my speeh all about her and thank mom only once. Because most likely, she'll probably end up betaing that one too...not that I'm complaining mind. She's just that good!
“Can’t sleep luv?”
“Not really,”
“Don’t lie,”
“Going on night three,”
“I’m sorry,”
“Don’t be,”
“You want to talk about it?”
“No,”
“Lisa?”
“No,”
“Work?”
“No,”
“Something happened at work,” it wasn’t a question.
“Yeah,”
“What ever it is, it’s keeping you awake,”
“I know,”
“Ianto, talk to me, I worry for you and after your display to Jack, he does too, beneath his hurt,”
Ianto sighed. “I just want to sleep, I didn’t mean those words, I didn’t. I was…”
“You were frightened that you might loose Jack and find that all you’d ever know yourself to be in his eyes is a fuck buddy,”
“Yes,”
“You were angry Ianto, we all say things we wish we hadn’t,”
“I still said those words,”
“I think Ianto, what scares you the most is, even if Jack deserves to die a horrible death, you don’t want to watch, not really,”
“I think so,”
“Ianto, in the same way there are many types of love, so is death.”
“How do you mean?”
“Physical, metaphysical, mental…the list goes on,”
“Oh,”
A pause.
“What do I do now?”
“Get some sleep, go to Jack, beg his forgiveness. Not much you can do really, just hope for the best,”
“But what is the best?” Ianto pleaded.
“I don’t know, Ianto, but what I do know is what ever does happen, no matter how painful, is for the best,”
“What if I loose him? I don’t want to loose him,”
“Oh Ianto, don’t worry; you worry so much, just let it happen.” Cerys said gently. Ianto wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“I’m scared,”
“I know you are, just take a pill and go to sleep,”
“I can’t,”
“Then go to him, Ianto, tell him how you really feel,”
There was a long silence, Cerys’ slow breathing and Ianto’s broken heart.
“Good night Ianto,” Cerys said softly. There was a click and she hung up.
Ianto had gone home that night. Made coffee, watched Casablanca he’d rented while eating left over pizza Owen had ordered for lunch. All of it in hopes of forgetting his feelings about Jack. Which failed miserably.
He finished the heart ripping ending to Casablanca, poured himself a double whiskey before settling down to call his cousin Cerys in London. He’d been surprised she’d lost her accent in favor of a London drawl. It almost hurt that he couldn’t recognize her voice. But she listened, and Ianto was reminded why he loved her so much. He wished she were here, she’d know what to do.
He put the whiskey away, the DVD on the countertop and considered taking the sleeping aid as he stood before the mirror over the bathroom sink. They had been prescribed to him some time ago, for when his insomnia became so severe he became delusional. For several long moments he considered swallowing them and not waking up until next Thursday. He washed them down the drain instead, and took the bottle with him to sit on the bedside stand.
Restless, he undressed into boxers and an undershirt. But still unable to sleep, he stretched out on top of the blankets. Rain pattered beyond the window, the room lit softly by the bedside lamp. He stared off into the far corner of the tastefully decorated room.
The wardrobe to the right of the bedroom door, its right door slightly ajar. The dresser against the wall adjacent to him with its large mirror. The top cluttered with photos, clothing and other random objects. In another corner there was a reading chair. The bookcase that had been in his family holding ancient tomes and volumes loomed over him from the parallel wall. Examining all this made his head hurt and Ianto rolled over nursing a headache.
The world was spinning, his head unable to keep up. He curled into himself wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He would have dozed off if his stomach didn’t hurt so much.
The bed was big. Big enough for two and a half. The sheets were soft: warm. That didn’t stop Ianto form feeling cold. More importantly, alone. At least with Jack, he was warm. Never this, isolated, but not alone. He could never feel alone in Jack’s arms. Isolated, distant, but always warm.
The knocking on the door of his flat ripped him from his thoughts. Who in the bloody hell would be calling at (here he looked at the digital alarm clock) two in the morning?
Groaning, Ianto stood, holding his stomach. Gingerly leaning on a table and furniture for balance he worked his way to the door. On the third knock he opened the door.
Who should be there but Captain Jack Harkness before him, with a winning smile and drenched from head to toe, with (as Ianto was sardonically pleased to mote) flat hair.
“Hi,” Jack’s smile widened. With hooded eyes, Ianto closed the door in Jack’s face, shutting with a loud SNAP!.
He stood before the closed door, in agony over his stomach wanting to lie down more than ever, but slightly confused with Jack’s calling at such a late hour. He stared blankly not moving, frozen to the spot. He heard Jack laugh shyly.
“I deserved that,” Ianto could hear from the other side. Jack’s voice was flat. “Yan…” Ianto didn’t want to hear this. “I won’t argue with you there.”
Ianto looked through the peephole. Jack was drenched. Water dripped from his hair, onto his face, running in drops down his cheek and over his inviting throat. Ianto swallowed. Though he had to look carefully for it, Jack was trembling from the rain; the coat appeared to ooze water. Ianto was willing to bet his month’s salary that Jack was soaked through.
Thunder lashed out, crying into the quite night, electrifying the air. Ianto stood for so long, his breathing harsh and short. He stood there, looking through the peephole long enough for Jack to slump his posture, to pace, shift his weight, and then finally, turn to leave. Only then, as Jack turned to leave, did Ianto decide to open the door.
“Jack.”
Jack turned around, squaring his shoulders as if he had been trying to shake off more water and tucking away his shivering.
“Yeah?” He asked turning back, his smile wide.
Ianto gulped. “You need to get out of those clothes,” Jack raised his eyebrows causing color to rise in Ianto’s cheeks. Jack stepped closer, his breath reaching Ianto from where he stood. Ianto stepped aside letting Jack enter.
“Nice place,” he said looking out the picturesque window, the wood floor opening up to cream colored sofas and chairs, to a bar with the kitchen and then the bedroom down the hall to the right. Ianto didn’t say anything as he led Jack away to the direction of the bedroom.
The bathroom was across the bedroom, done up in white ceramic tiles. The light bounced off bright and blinding. Ianto pulled Jack’s coat from his shoulders, and hung it to dry in the shower stall. He bent to open a wicker cabinet pulling a set of clean, sweet smelling towels pressing them to Jack. He stepped across the hall to the open door bedroom.
Light spilled in across the hardwood floors, falling across the bed. The sheets were a dark navy blue. The sort that reminded Jack of a shirt of his. The shirt he was wearing, now that he thought of it. Ianto disappeared behind the wall. He could hear the door shut, as he retrieved a t-shirt, white and soft, and a pair of old flannel pants. Worn almost threadbare with the Welsh flag as a design, Cerys had given them to him as a birthday gift one year.
“Just lay your clothes over the bath,” Ianto said closing the door. Jack stripped, dried himself and dressed in the clothes Ianto had provided.
It felt oddly intimate wearing Ianto’s clothes. Even more so because they were worn. He sniffed the shirt. It smelt of after shave, laundry detergent, and Ianto, but mostly laundry detergent. Jack didn’t know if he should be disturbed that he almost missed not smelling moth balls. Considering this was Ianto, Jack was surprised he didn’t.
He sniffed again. Cedar. He should’ve known.
Jack made sure his hair was thoroughly dry before turning off the light then left the bath. Ianto was turned facing away from the door. Curling in on himself under the covers staring at the window. The black drapes were drawn over the windows, affording priavcy and blocking the light. The bottle of sleeping aids did not slip past Jack’s attention, he noticed as he stole past, careful not to wake Ianto.
He slipped in next to him, arms slithering around his waist, pressing his face to the back of Ianto’s neck. Jack was ice cold to the touch, making Ianto stiffen. In contrast, Ianto felt so hot to Jack, he thought he would burn just from touching him. He tried to keep his shivering under control, but it was a lost cause. He knew Ianto could feel the tremors. He turned into Jack’s arms.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“Only a little,” Jack said pulling Ianto closer.
“Hang on,” Ianto slipped away leaving Jack in the…well…it could be a freezing room now that Ianto had left. He pulled the covers high on Jack and closed the door in his wake.
Ianto retrieved Jack’s clothes, putting them on the wash so he might have something clean and dry for in the morning. He took the time to think about just what possessed Jack to come here. Thoughts abound and racing in his mind. He set the kettle to boil and moved to the living room to peak out the window.
The SUV wasn’t parked outside. And Jack couldn’t have gotten that soaked…or, yeah…well he could have. It took an ungodly amount of time to find a place to park in the parking deck, or on the side of the street. Not to mention the time it took to walk through that rain, which was pouring heavily from the sky. And of course there is that dammed lock you had to jimmy just so to open on the front door. Jack had a key, so it wasn’t as much a problem as it could be without. But that still didn’t explain why he was here. And that was what disturbed Ianto the most.
After all it had been earlier yesterday morning that Ianto had lost his head. He had avoided Jack as much as he could today. Staying well out of his way. Owen had even remarked to Gwen about it. Like they needed a commentary on their relationship. Another reason Ianto just enjoyed Owen’s company.
He emptied chamomile into the pot letting it seep from the boiling water, while he searched for something to give Jack for the cold he knew he was going to suffer from. Immortal or no. He pulled things from his cupboard he hadn’t seen in years. He pulled up a carton and dumped medicine that was long past it’s expiration date. Finding nothing he could use, he pulled the whiskey down and added a healthy dose to the tea with sugar. Taking down two mugs he carried them to his room.
Jack had burrowed under the comforter, shivering as Ianto knew he would. Jack had finally given up trying to control the shivers. Ianto put the teapot on the stand sitting next to Jack.
“How long were you out there?” Ianto asked pouring tea into the mug.
“Long enough to be like this.” Jack had in fact walked from the parking deck twice to the front door, left the building six more times, and another three attempts to get to the door of Ianto’s flat and god could only say how long he stood there, pacing the hall, gathering the nerve to knock. It wasn’t like Jack to chase after such a harsh telling off. But Gwen had pressured him, and to Jack’s woe, he had to work himself up to gather the nerve to even come here.
“Shouldn’t have been out there like that,”
“Might not have been so bad if you were with me,” Jack smiled, sitting up to accept the mug. Ianto rolled his eyes pouring one for himself.
They sat in silence, Jack shivering between sips and Ianto beginning to feel slightly drowsy. He hadn’t forgotten he felt terrible. His head hurting and his stomach feeling like it could come up his esophagus at any moment. He wondered why he hadn't taken anything for it. Their eyes didn’t meet.
“Why are you here?”
Jack shrugged. “I was…”
“You were what?”
Jack tried again. “You haven’t been sleeping,”
“How do you know?” Ianto chanced a glance.
Jack shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I just figured I’d be there for you,”
Ianto swallowed hard, tearing his gaze away from Jack. He could see Jack was still shivering, and he wanted to go his arms, to hold his stomach and have Jack’s arms around him. He took more of his tea, shaking the sleep from him. Odd, now that he didn’t want to sleep, his body had other plans
Jack put his tea aside and pulled Ianto into his lap, wrapping his cool arms around him. “I know,” Jack kissed his hair ruffling sweet welsh curls and drowning in Ianto’s fragrance. He stroked the strands carefully, considering how Ianto would look with longer hair. Ianto, despite himself, snuggled closer.
“Jack,” Ianto leaned against him. “How long were you in that rain?” Ianto rubbed his hands over Jack’s cool skin.
“It’s nothing being with you can’t cure,” Jack nuzzled Ianto’s neck. “What about you?” he changed the subject. “You’re burning up,” Ianto nodded resting his head on Jack’s shoulder.
“I might be coming down with something,” Ianto groaned, not able to take his stomach any longer.
“Here,” he laid down arranging Ianto in his arms, settling the blankets around them. “Lay with me,” Like Jack had said, his shivering was beginning to subside, but Ianto was feeling worse. Jack gathered Ianto in his arms holding him against his chest. “Just lie down, and relax,”
“Jack,”
“Hmm?”
“I’m sorry,”
“Shhh,” Jack pressed a finger to Ianto’s lips. “Do you think you might need those?” He gestured to the sleep aids. Ianto shook his head. “Be quite then, get some sleep, I’ll be here,” Jack whispered. Ianto nodded agreeing with out complaint. But there was just one more thing that kept nagging Ianto in the back of his mind. The sort that wouldn’t go away and just demanded satisfaction.
“Jack,” he mumbled.
“Mmmm?”
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“Because I’m the one who should be sorry,” Jack whispered.
Ianto fell asleep.
Parring: Jack/Ianto
Fandom: Torchwood
Summary: After Ianto's fit of temper going on night three of no sleep, Ianto calls his cousin in London and recives a very unexpected vistor at a very unexpected hour of the night. Pt 2 to Temper companion to Insomniac
Spoilers: none
Warnings: Some angst, but I promise not emo
Discalimer: BBC owns, I don't, I just play in their sand box. Either way, I'm making no money off this, so HA!
Author's notes: This is the direct sequel to Temper but I suppose you could read this on it's own (though it wouldn't make much sense if you didn't). Temper is the companion to Insomniac and you can read either as a standalone though they are meant to be a set. And I suggest should be read in that order. It's all hurt/comfort fluff for the most part, but definately fluff. Though this installment has more action that fluff and musings.
Speical Thanks: ericadawn16 for ultra fast betaing and encouragement. Seriously, when I win an Oscar or the Nobel Prize for Literature or the Pultzier Prize I'll write my speeh all about her and thank mom only once. Because most likely, she'll probably end up betaing that one too...not that I'm complaining mind. She's just that good!
“Can’t sleep luv?”
“Not really,”
“Don’t lie,”
“Going on night three,”
“I’m sorry,”
“Don’t be,”
“You want to talk about it?”
“No,”
“Lisa?”
“No,”
“Work?”
“No,”
“Something happened at work,” it wasn’t a question.
“Yeah,”
“What ever it is, it’s keeping you awake,”
“I know,”
“Ianto, talk to me, I worry for you and after your display to Jack, he does too, beneath his hurt,”
Ianto sighed. “I just want to sleep, I didn’t mean those words, I didn’t. I was…”
“You were frightened that you might loose Jack and find that all you’d ever know yourself to be in his eyes is a fuck buddy,”
“Yes,”
“You were angry Ianto, we all say things we wish we hadn’t,”
“I still said those words,”
“I think Ianto, what scares you the most is, even if Jack deserves to die a horrible death, you don’t want to watch, not really,”
“I think so,”
“Ianto, in the same way there are many types of love, so is death.”
“How do you mean?”
“Physical, metaphysical, mental…the list goes on,”
“Oh,”
A pause.
“What do I do now?”
“Get some sleep, go to Jack, beg his forgiveness. Not much you can do really, just hope for the best,”
“But what is the best?” Ianto pleaded.
“I don’t know, Ianto, but what I do know is what ever does happen, no matter how painful, is for the best,”
“What if I loose him? I don’t want to loose him,”
“Oh Ianto, don’t worry; you worry so much, just let it happen.” Cerys said gently. Ianto wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“I’m scared,”
“I know you are, just take a pill and go to sleep,”
“I can’t,”
“Then go to him, Ianto, tell him how you really feel,”
There was a long silence, Cerys’ slow breathing and Ianto’s broken heart.
“Good night Ianto,” Cerys said softly. There was a click and she hung up.
Ianto had gone home that night. Made coffee, watched Casablanca he’d rented while eating left over pizza Owen had ordered for lunch. All of it in hopes of forgetting his feelings about Jack. Which failed miserably.
He finished the heart ripping ending to Casablanca, poured himself a double whiskey before settling down to call his cousin Cerys in London. He’d been surprised she’d lost her accent in favor of a London drawl. It almost hurt that he couldn’t recognize her voice. But she listened, and Ianto was reminded why he loved her so much. He wished she were here, she’d know what to do.
He put the whiskey away, the DVD on the countertop and considered taking the sleeping aid as he stood before the mirror over the bathroom sink. They had been prescribed to him some time ago, for when his insomnia became so severe he became delusional. For several long moments he considered swallowing them and not waking up until next Thursday. He washed them down the drain instead, and took the bottle with him to sit on the bedside stand.
Restless, he undressed into boxers and an undershirt. But still unable to sleep, he stretched out on top of the blankets. Rain pattered beyond the window, the room lit softly by the bedside lamp. He stared off into the far corner of the tastefully decorated room.
The wardrobe to the right of the bedroom door, its right door slightly ajar. The dresser against the wall adjacent to him with its large mirror. The top cluttered with photos, clothing and other random objects. In another corner there was a reading chair. The bookcase that had been in his family holding ancient tomes and volumes loomed over him from the parallel wall. Examining all this made his head hurt and Ianto rolled over nursing a headache.
The world was spinning, his head unable to keep up. He curled into himself wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He would have dozed off if his stomach didn’t hurt so much.
The bed was big. Big enough for two and a half. The sheets were soft: warm. That didn’t stop Ianto form feeling cold. More importantly, alone. At least with Jack, he was warm. Never this, isolated, but not alone. He could never feel alone in Jack’s arms. Isolated, distant, but always warm.
The knocking on the door of his flat ripped him from his thoughts. Who in the bloody hell would be calling at (here he looked at the digital alarm clock) two in the morning?
Groaning, Ianto stood, holding his stomach. Gingerly leaning on a table and furniture for balance he worked his way to the door. On the third knock he opened the door.
Who should be there but Captain Jack Harkness before him, with a winning smile and drenched from head to toe, with (as Ianto was sardonically pleased to mote) flat hair.
“Hi,” Jack’s smile widened. With hooded eyes, Ianto closed the door in Jack’s face, shutting with a loud SNAP!.
He stood before the closed door, in agony over his stomach wanting to lie down more than ever, but slightly confused with Jack’s calling at such a late hour. He stared blankly not moving, frozen to the spot. He heard Jack laugh shyly.
“I deserved that,” Ianto could hear from the other side. Jack’s voice was flat. “Yan…” Ianto didn’t want to hear this. “I won’t argue with you there.”
Ianto looked through the peephole. Jack was drenched. Water dripped from his hair, onto his face, running in drops down his cheek and over his inviting throat. Ianto swallowed. Though he had to look carefully for it, Jack was trembling from the rain; the coat appeared to ooze water. Ianto was willing to bet his month’s salary that Jack was soaked through.
Thunder lashed out, crying into the quite night, electrifying the air. Ianto stood for so long, his breathing harsh and short. He stood there, looking through the peephole long enough for Jack to slump his posture, to pace, shift his weight, and then finally, turn to leave. Only then, as Jack turned to leave, did Ianto decide to open the door.
“Jack.”
Jack turned around, squaring his shoulders as if he had been trying to shake off more water and tucking away his shivering.
“Yeah?” He asked turning back, his smile wide.
Ianto gulped. “You need to get out of those clothes,” Jack raised his eyebrows causing color to rise in Ianto’s cheeks. Jack stepped closer, his breath reaching Ianto from where he stood. Ianto stepped aside letting Jack enter.
“Nice place,” he said looking out the picturesque window, the wood floor opening up to cream colored sofas and chairs, to a bar with the kitchen and then the bedroom down the hall to the right. Ianto didn’t say anything as he led Jack away to the direction of the bedroom.
The bathroom was across the bedroom, done up in white ceramic tiles. The light bounced off bright and blinding. Ianto pulled Jack’s coat from his shoulders, and hung it to dry in the shower stall. He bent to open a wicker cabinet pulling a set of clean, sweet smelling towels pressing them to Jack. He stepped across the hall to the open door bedroom.
Light spilled in across the hardwood floors, falling across the bed. The sheets were a dark navy blue. The sort that reminded Jack of a shirt of his. The shirt he was wearing, now that he thought of it. Ianto disappeared behind the wall. He could hear the door shut, as he retrieved a t-shirt, white and soft, and a pair of old flannel pants. Worn almost threadbare with the Welsh flag as a design, Cerys had given them to him as a birthday gift one year.
“Just lay your clothes over the bath,” Ianto said closing the door. Jack stripped, dried himself and dressed in the clothes Ianto had provided.
It felt oddly intimate wearing Ianto’s clothes. Even more so because they were worn. He sniffed the shirt. It smelt of after shave, laundry detergent, and Ianto, but mostly laundry detergent. Jack didn’t know if he should be disturbed that he almost missed not smelling moth balls. Considering this was Ianto, Jack was surprised he didn’t.
He sniffed again. Cedar. He should’ve known.
Jack made sure his hair was thoroughly dry before turning off the light then left the bath. Ianto was turned facing away from the door. Curling in on himself under the covers staring at the window. The black drapes were drawn over the windows, affording priavcy and blocking the light. The bottle of sleeping aids did not slip past Jack’s attention, he noticed as he stole past, careful not to wake Ianto.
He slipped in next to him, arms slithering around his waist, pressing his face to the back of Ianto’s neck. Jack was ice cold to the touch, making Ianto stiffen. In contrast, Ianto felt so hot to Jack, he thought he would burn just from touching him. He tried to keep his shivering under control, but it was a lost cause. He knew Ianto could feel the tremors. He turned into Jack’s arms.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“Only a little,” Jack said pulling Ianto closer.
“Hang on,” Ianto slipped away leaving Jack in the…well…it could be a freezing room now that Ianto had left. He pulled the covers high on Jack and closed the door in his wake.
Ianto retrieved Jack’s clothes, putting them on the wash so he might have something clean and dry for in the morning. He took the time to think about just what possessed Jack to come here. Thoughts abound and racing in his mind. He set the kettle to boil and moved to the living room to peak out the window.
The SUV wasn’t parked outside. And Jack couldn’t have gotten that soaked…or, yeah…well he could have. It took an ungodly amount of time to find a place to park in the parking deck, or on the side of the street. Not to mention the time it took to walk through that rain, which was pouring heavily from the sky. And of course there is that dammed lock you had to jimmy just so to open on the front door. Jack had a key, so it wasn’t as much a problem as it could be without. But that still didn’t explain why he was here. And that was what disturbed Ianto the most.
After all it had been earlier yesterday morning that Ianto had lost his head. He had avoided Jack as much as he could today. Staying well out of his way. Owen had even remarked to Gwen about it. Like they needed a commentary on their relationship. Another reason Ianto just enjoyed Owen’s company.
He emptied chamomile into the pot letting it seep from the boiling water, while he searched for something to give Jack for the cold he knew he was going to suffer from. Immortal or no. He pulled things from his cupboard he hadn’t seen in years. He pulled up a carton and dumped medicine that was long past it’s expiration date. Finding nothing he could use, he pulled the whiskey down and added a healthy dose to the tea with sugar. Taking down two mugs he carried them to his room.
Jack had burrowed under the comforter, shivering as Ianto knew he would. Jack had finally given up trying to control the shivers. Ianto put the teapot on the stand sitting next to Jack.
“How long were you out there?” Ianto asked pouring tea into the mug.
“Long enough to be like this.” Jack had in fact walked from the parking deck twice to the front door, left the building six more times, and another three attempts to get to the door of Ianto’s flat and god could only say how long he stood there, pacing the hall, gathering the nerve to knock. It wasn’t like Jack to chase after such a harsh telling off. But Gwen had pressured him, and to Jack’s woe, he had to work himself up to gather the nerve to even come here.
“Shouldn’t have been out there like that,”
“Might not have been so bad if you were with me,” Jack smiled, sitting up to accept the mug. Ianto rolled his eyes pouring one for himself.
They sat in silence, Jack shivering between sips and Ianto beginning to feel slightly drowsy. He hadn’t forgotten he felt terrible. His head hurting and his stomach feeling like it could come up his esophagus at any moment. He wondered why he hadn't taken anything for it. Their eyes didn’t meet.
“Why are you here?”
Jack shrugged. “I was…”
“You were what?”
Jack tried again. “You haven’t been sleeping,”
“How do you know?” Ianto chanced a glance.
Jack shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I just figured I’d be there for you,”
Ianto swallowed hard, tearing his gaze away from Jack. He could see Jack was still shivering, and he wanted to go his arms, to hold his stomach and have Jack’s arms around him. He took more of his tea, shaking the sleep from him. Odd, now that he didn’t want to sleep, his body had other plans
Jack put his tea aside and pulled Ianto into his lap, wrapping his cool arms around him. “I know,” Jack kissed his hair ruffling sweet welsh curls and drowning in Ianto’s fragrance. He stroked the strands carefully, considering how Ianto would look with longer hair. Ianto, despite himself, snuggled closer.
“Jack,” Ianto leaned against him. “How long were you in that rain?” Ianto rubbed his hands over Jack’s cool skin.
“It’s nothing being with you can’t cure,” Jack nuzzled Ianto’s neck. “What about you?” he changed the subject. “You’re burning up,” Ianto nodded resting his head on Jack’s shoulder.
“I might be coming down with something,” Ianto groaned, not able to take his stomach any longer.
“Here,” he laid down arranging Ianto in his arms, settling the blankets around them. “Lay with me,” Like Jack had said, his shivering was beginning to subside, but Ianto was feeling worse. Jack gathered Ianto in his arms holding him against his chest. “Just lie down, and relax,”
“Jack,”
“Hmm?”
“I’m sorry,”
“Shhh,” Jack pressed a finger to Ianto’s lips. “Do you think you might need those?” He gestured to the sleep aids. Ianto shook his head. “Be quite then, get some sleep, I’ll be here,” Jack whispered. Ianto nodded agreeing with out complaint. But there was just one more thing that kept nagging Ianto in the back of his mind. The sort that wouldn’t go away and just demanded satisfaction.
“Jack,” he mumbled.
“Mmmm?”
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“Because I’m the one who should be sorry,” Jack whispered.
Ianto fell asleep.