Fanfic: "Wedding Night," Jack/Ianto
TITLE: Wedding Night
AUTHOR: Estelle Cole
FANDOM: Torchwood
PAIRING: Jack/Ianto
RATING: PG-ish. All talk, no action.
WORD COUNT: 1320
SPOILERS: Through Series 2 Episode 9, "Something Borrowed."
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This takes place after all the clean-up from Gwen and Rhys’s wedding. We still don’t know where Ianto lives, so I just magicked up a nice little flat for him. Aren't I nice? Don't answer that.
"Hey. We’re home.” Jack shut off the engine and reached over to shake Ianto’s arm gently. “Ianto. We’re here.”
“Mmph.” Ianto’s eyes opened, blurry and unfocused. “What?”
“Home, Ianto.” He smiled as Ianto’s eyes drifted shut. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”
“A’ight.” The eyes didn’t reopen.
Jack chuckled and got out, went around to the passenger side, and opened the door. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty, time for bed. Up you go.” He took Ianto’s elbow and urged him to his feet, then locked their arms and led Ianto onto the stoop, fumbling with his keys. He got the door open, and steered a barely-conscious Ianto into the flat, around the furniture, through the kitchen, and back to the bedroom. A little push, and Ianto sat with a thud on the bed.
“Time is it?”
“Half four.” Jack pulled off his coat and knelt. “Here, give me the jacket.”
Ianto pulled ineffectually at sleeves, not realizing it was his shirt he was tugging on.
“C’mere.” Jack expertly removed the jacket, popped the cuffs open, undid the tie, and quickly unbuttoned the shirt. He had entirely too much practice at quickly removing clothing, he thought with a smile, although until he had the ability to take clothes off telekinetically, he was willing to keep at it.
Shoes or belt next, he wondered, then decided to just work downwards, unbuckling Ianto’s belt. Then the waistband, then the fly, and then he realized he was going to have to waken a softly snoring man to get him to lift his bum. “Hey. Lean forward.”
Ianto flopped over onto his back.
“Close enough.” Jack tugged the trousers to Ianto’s knees, then unlaced his shoes. He tossed the lot over the end of the bed to the floor, and thought idly that he should straighten those things out before he left, or he’d hear it when Ianto woke. He sighed and sat on the bed, surveying an exhausted Ianto in his underclothes. “Turn around, get your head on the pillow. Don’t you growl at me, Mr Jones. Move.”
Ianto grumbled but obeyed, groaning deep in his chest when his head hit the pillow. He sighed as Jack pulled the covers up to his shoulders. “Jack.”
“Ianto.” He brushed the untidy hair from Ianto’s forehead.
“Stay.” He reached, closing his hand in Jack’s shirt.
“You need to sleep.” He leaned down and kissed Ianto’s temple, tasting light sweat. Dammit, he smelled good. Ianto always smelled good, no matter what horrid mess they’d gotten into, and a freshly-showered Ianto was nearly an aphrodisiac. If he could bottle that scent, he’d be rich as a king. His cock twitched. “I should go.”
Ianto sighed and let his hand go slack. “Yeah.” He pulled the covers up a bit. “Fine. See you tomorrow.” His voice was flat.
Idiot, Jack scolded himself, and kicked off his shoes. He quickly stripped to his undershirt and shorts. “Hey, whaddya know. It is tomorrow. Move over.” He burrowed under the covers, pulling Ianto into his arms, kissing his forehead. Ianto settled his head on Jack’s chest and sighed again, a different, lighter sigh. “Comfortable?”
Ianto nodded; his hair tickled Jack’s chin.
Jack smiled and ran his fingers through the fine strands, knowing that Ianto found that soothing. He waited for the signs that Ianto slept: heavy limbs, even breathing, the tiniest hint of a nasal snore that made Jack wonder idly if Ianto would turn into a full-bore buzzsaw sleeper as he aged. The thought made him smile, then frown, wondering somewhat less idly if he’d get to find out.
Ianto shifted and sighed again, running a hand up Jack’s chest to settle at his shoulder. “Have you ever been married?”
The question took him aback a bit, thinking Ianto was asleep, but he recovered quickly enough that he didn’t think Ianto realized he’d paused. “Yeah.”
“Mm.” Ianto was silent for a long moment. “When?”
“Oh, a long time ago. Long before you were born.” Hell, it was before your great-grandparents were born.
“What happened?”
“She died. She, uhm.” Jack sighed. “Pneumonia. Before antibiotics.” He squeezed his eyes shut. He could still hear her labored, tortured breathing slowing to a stop, and clenched his jaw against the memory.
Soft, gentle fingers touched his face. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” Jack turned his head to bury his nose in Ianto’s hair, and the even rise and fall of his hand on Ianto’s back, caused by easy, drowsy breathing, calmed him.
“I assume your wedding was a bit less eventful than Gwen’s.”
Jack laughed. “Oh, yeah. Dead dull by comparison. What a day this was. One for the books.” He patted Ianto’s shoulder. “You did great work today, Ianto, I’m proud of you. Thank you.”
“Just doing my job,” Ianto replied, and yawned.
“I’d say above and beyond.” He smiled. “And you danced with me. I didn’t expect that.”
“Why?”
“You’re all discretion and decorum when we’re out, that’s all. And it wasn’t exactly a mixed crowd. Bit stodgy, really.”
“Well. I wanted...” Jack could feel the air move as Ianto exhaled. “I needed one dance with my...” A yawn interrupted his thought. “With you.”
Jack smiled and hugged Ianto a bit closer. “Right there in front of Rhys’s crazy mother and all. And Tosh and Owen. And, oh, yeah, that bridesmaid who couldn’t take her eyes off you. Don’t think I didn’t see you wink at her.”
Ianto snorted. “After the way you kept looking at Gwen, you have no reason to complain.”
The tone was light, but Jack heard the veiled hurt beneath the words. “Is that why you cut in?”
Ianto sighed heavily. “Christ. You really are a bloody idiot, did you know that?”
Jack frowned into the darkness. “I must be, because I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
That earned Jack an exasperated huff. “I put that song on to dance with you. It was either cut in, or play it again later, hope I could get to you first, and have half the guests drunkenly - and loudly -- wondering why I’d played the same damn song again.” Jack could almost hear the unspoken “you daft git” that Ianto must have been thinking. “But you cut in on Rhys before I could get to you.”
He felt a pleasant ripple in his heart. “You played that just to dance with me? You wanted to dance with me to a particular song? At a wedding?”
“I do believe that’s what I just said.”
Jack smiled into Ianto’s hair, then nudged him to lift his head, and kissed him. “Jones Ianto Jones, I’m coming to the inescapable conclusion that you rather like me.”
“Against my better judgment, yes.” Ianto smiled, then yawned again and lowered his head.
Perfect husband...loyal, brave..best of all, he really loves you. “Ianto?”
“Jack?”
Suddenly he wasn’t sure what he really wanted to say. “Uhm. Is this okay? For you, I mean, with me, and putting up with all this. Are you. Am I doing this right? You said you wanted to dance with your...what, boyfriend, maybe, I don’t know.” He stopped and forced himself to collect a coherent thought. “Are you happy with me, Ianto? I want you to be happy. I really do.”
Ianto had moved, propped his head on his hand, and was gazing with fond amusement at Jack. He smiled, leaned over for a very tender kiss, then shifted to whisper into Jack’s ear. “I love you, too.”
Jack let out a heavy breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Ah. Good.” He gathered Ianto close again, tugging the blankets up to cover back and shoulders, a little cocoon against the night. “That’s good.”
“Yes.” Ianto shifted, settled in, and within a few minutes drifted into a sound sleep.
Then Jack fell asleep as well, just for a little while, warm and safe in Ianto’s arms, and when he woke a couple of hours later, he was smiling.
**end**
AUTHOR: Estelle Cole
FANDOM: Torchwood
PAIRING: Jack/Ianto
RATING: PG-ish. All talk, no action.
WORD COUNT: 1320
SPOILERS: Through Series 2 Episode 9, "Something Borrowed."
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This takes place after all the clean-up from Gwen and Rhys’s wedding. We still don’t know where Ianto lives, so I just magicked up a nice little flat for him. Aren't I nice? Don't answer that.
"Hey. We’re home.” Jack shut off the engine and reached over to shake Ianto’s arm gently. “Ianto. We’re here.”
“Mmph.” Ianto’s eyes opened, blurry and unfocused. “What?”
“Home, Ianto.” He smiled as Ianto’s eyes drifted shut. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”
“A’ight.” The eyes didn’t reopen.
Jack chuckled and got out, went around to the passenger side, and opened the door. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty, time for bed. Up you go.” He took Ianto’s elbow and urged him to his feet, then locked their arms and led Ianto onto the stoop, fumbling with his keys. He got the door open, and steered a barely-conscious Ianto into the flat, around the furniture, through the kitchen, and back to the bedroom. A little push, and Ianto sat with a thud on the bed.
“Time is it?”
“Half four.” Jack pulled off his coat and knelt. “Here, give me the jacket.”
Ianto pulled ineffectually at sleeves, not realizing it was his shirt he was tugging on.
“C’mere.” Jack expertly removed the jacket, popped the cuffs open, undid the tie, and quickly unbuttoned the shirt. He had entirely too much practice at quickly removing clothing, he thought with a smile, although until he had the ability to take clothes off telekinetically, he was willing to keep at it.
Shoes or belt next, he wondered, then decided to just work downwards, unbuckling Ianto’s belt. Then the waistband, then the fly, and then he realized he was going to have to waken a softly snoring man to get him to lift his bum. “Hey. Lean forward.”
Ianto flopped over onto his back.
“Close enough.” Jack tugged the trousers to Ianto’s knees, then unlaced his shoes. He tossed the lot over the end of the bed to the floor, and thought idly that he should straighten those things out before he left, or he’d hear it when Ianto woke. He sighed and sat on the bed, surveying an exhausted Ianto in his underclothes. “Turn around, get your head on the pillow. Don’t you growl at me, Mr Jones. Move.”
Ianto grumbled but obeyed, groaning deep in his chest when his head hit the pillow. He sighed as Jack pulled the covers up to his shoulders. “Jack.”
“Ianto.” He brushed the untidy hair from Ianto’s forehead.
“Stay.” He reached, closing his hand in Jack’s shirt.
“You need to sleep.” He leaned down and kissed Ianto’s temple, tasting light sweat. Dammit, he smelled good. Ianto always smelled good, no matter what horrid mess they’d gotten into, and a freshly-showered Ianto was nearly an aphrodisiac. If he could bottle that scent, he’d be rich as a king. His cock twitched. “I should go.”
Ianto sighed and let his hand go slack. “Yeah.” He pulled the covers up a bit. “Fine. See you tomorrow.” His voice was flat.
Idiot, Jack scolded himself, and kicked off his shoes. He quickly stripped to his undershirt and shorts. “Hey, whaddya know. It is tomorrow. Move over.” He burrowed under the covers, pulling Ianto into his arms, kissing his forehead. Ianto settled his head on Jack’s chest and sighed again, a different, lighter sigh. “Comfortable?”
Ianto nodded; his hair tickled Jack’s chin.
Jack smiled and ran his fingers through the fine strands, knowing that Ianto found that soothing. He waited for the signs that Ianto slept: heavy limbs, even breathing, the tiniest hint of a nasal snore that made Jack wonder idly if Ianto would turn into a full-bore buzzsaw sleeper as he aged. The thought made him smile, then frown, wondering somewhat less idly if he’d get to find out.
Ianto shifted and sighed again, running a hand up Jack’s chest to settle at his shoulder. “Have you ever been married?”
The question took him aback a bit, thinking Ianto was asleep, but he recovered quickly enough that he didn’t think Ianto realized he’d paused. “Yeah.”
“Mm.” Ianto was silent for a long moment. “When?”
“Oh, a long time ago. Long before you were born.” Hell, it was before your great-grandparents were born.
“What happened?”
“She died. She, uhm.” Jack sighed. “Pneumonia. Before antibiotics.” He squeezed his eyes shut. He could still hear her labored, tortured breathing slowing to a stop, and clenched his jaw against the memory.
Soft, gentle fingers touched his face. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” Jack turned his head to bury his nose in Ianto’s hair, and the even rise and fall of his hand on Ianto’s back, caused by easy, drowsy breathing, calmed him.
“I assume your wedding was a bit less eventful than Gwen’s.”
Jack laughed. “Oh, yeah. Dead dull by comparison. What a day this was. One for the books.” He patted Ianto’s shoulder. “You did great work today, Ianto, I’m proud of you. Thank you.”
“Just doing my job,” Ianto replied, and yawned.
“I’d say above and beyond.” He smiled. “And you danced with me. I didn’t expect that.”
“Why?”
“You’re all discretion and decorum when we’re out, that’s all. And it wasn’t exactly a mixed crowd. Bit stodgy, really.”
“Well. I wanted...” Jack could feel the air move as Ianto exhaled. “I needed one dance with my...” A yawn interrupted his thought. “With you.”
Jack smiled and hugged Ianto a bit closer. “Right there in front of Rhys’s crazy mother and all. And Tosh and Owen. And, oh, yeah, that bridesmaid who couldn’t take her eyes off you. Don’t think I didn’t see you wink at her.”
Ianto snorted. “After the way you kept looking at Gwen, you have no reason to complain.”
The tone was light, but Jack heard the veiled hurt beneath the words. “Is that why you cut in?”
Ianto sighed heavily. “Christ. You really are a bloody idiot, did you know that?”
Jack frowned into the darkness. “I must be, because I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
That earned Jack an exasperated huff. “I put that song on to dance with you. It was either cut in, or play it again later, hope I could get to you first, and have half the guests drunkenly - and loudly -- wondering why I’d played the same damn song again.” Jack could almost hear the unspoken “you daft git” that Ianto must have been thinking. “But you cut in on Rhys before I could get to you.”
He felt a pleasant ripple in his heart. “You played that just to dance with me? You wanted to dance with me to a particular song? At a wedding?”
“I do believe that’s what I just said.”
Jack smiled into Ianto’s hair, then nudged him to lift his head, and kissed him. “Jones Ianto Jones, I’m coming to the inescapable conclusion that you rather like me.”
“Against my better judgment, yes.” Ianto smiled, then yawned again and lowered his head.
Perfect husband...loyal, brave..best of all, he really loves you. “Ianto?”
“Jack?”
Suddenly he wasn’t sure what he really wanted to say. “Uhm. Is this okay? For you, I mean, with me, and putting up with all this. Are you. Am I doing this right? You said you wanted to dance with your...what, boyfriend, maybe, I don’t know.” He stopped and forced himself to collect a coherent thought. “Are you happy with me, Ianto? I want you to be happy. I really do.”
Ianto had moved, propped his head on his hand, and was gazing with fond amusement at Jack. He smiled, leaned over for a very tender kiss, then shifted to whisper into Jack’s ear. “I love you, too.”
Jack let out a heavy breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Ah. Good.” He gathered Ianto close again, tugging the blankets up to cover back and shoulders, a little cocoon against the night. “That’s good.”
“Yes.” Ianto shifted, settled in, and within a few minutes drifted into a sound sleep.
Then Jack fell asleep as well, just for a little while, warm and safe in Ianto’s arms, and when he woke a couple of hours later, he was smiling.
**end**