In the Still of the Night
Title: In The Still of the Night
Author: rout_obsessie
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Spoilers: 2.9 - Something Borrowed
Summary: In the quiet of the dark night Jack reflects on what happened after Gwen's wedding.
In the Still of the Night
The moon is full in the night sky and the stars look down on the sleeping city. A man sits at an open window, silhouetted against a backdrop of roofs and the warm orange glow from the streetlamps. A breeze ruffles the hair that flops over his forehead, also making the long open curtains billow slightly into the room before falling still once more. The distant noise of the odd car trundling along is joined only by the sighing of the breeze.
The man brings one foot up to rest on the window seat upon which he is sat before raising his arm and resting his elbow on his knee. In this position he cards his fingers through his hair, unconsciously causing it to stick out at all angles, before wearily rubbing his palm down over his face. Turning away from the window and looking into the room his eyes are immediately drawn to the large bed that dominates the centre of the room. A small smile lights his face at the figure he sees sprawled in the middle, sheet tangled around his legs and resting tantalisingly across his hips.
His Ianto, his wonderful, gorgeous boy. It was times like this, in the still and quiet, when he realised just how much this young man had come to mean to him. He was like a dream the older man had always had - comfortingly familiar but always a little unbelievable. When they were together it felt so natural, so real and so scarily perfect - like at any moment he would wake up and find that it really was a dream..
Looking at the sleeping man he knows that he loves him and that he is loved in return. Sometimes the strength of the other man’s love for him is overwhelming, and during his worst moments he is sure that he doesn’t deserve it. Smiling once again he recalls a conversation that passed between them a couple of days previously.
× × × × × × × × × ×
Jack knew that his dance with Gwen had hurt Ianto and he hated himself for it. The young man had proved himself loyal, to both the Captain and the man behind the larger-than-life exterior. Why did Jack have to keep kicking him when he was down, why did he have to keep knocking him back? He didn’t mean to do it…most of the time it just happened.
A few days after the wedding Ianto had walked into Jack’s office to find the man downing his third large measure of scotch. Jack rarely drank and when he did Ianto knew that something was up.
“Jack?”
Jack looked up, his eyes, if Ianto cared to notice (which he did), a little red-rimmed.
“Ianto,” Jack replied, not inviting further conversation.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.” Jack dropped his eyes back to the scotch glass still in his hand. He reached for the tumbler on his desk, aiming to get in at least one more drink before Ianto stopped him. But Ianto was quicker, moving the drink out of Jack’s reach.
“It’s never nothing, Jack.”
The older man simply glared moodily at his companion before slumping back in his chair.
Ianto settled himself in the chair opposite the desk, stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankle. Looking across the expanse of desk that sat between them, he waited. Minutes of silence ticked by, one man sat serenely and calmly watching the other fidget and slouch in his chair.
“Fine!”
An explosion of sound and movement erupted from the sulking form as he jumped up from his chair, causing it to roll back and hit the wall behind.
“Fine! You wanna know what’s wrong? I’ll tell you. You remember what you called me….that night?”
By this point Jack was pacing agitatedly across the floor of the office, pausing to glare at Ianto as he asked that question. Without waiting for a reply he carried on.
“Well, it’s true. That’s me. A monster. A mean, selfish monster who doesn’t give a damn who he hurts as long as he gets what he wants!”
With which statement he flopped down onto the couch and buried his head in his hands. In this position he did not see the look of pain and horror flash across Ianto’s face before he schooled his features and moved over to sit next to Jack, keeping a little distance until he could work out what Jack needed.
“Don’t Jack. You know that’s not true.”
There was no movement from the older man, so Ianto rested his hand on Jack’s hunched shoulder as he spoke again.
“Why now? Why this?”
Jack’s body jerked upright, causing Ianto’s hand to fall from it’s resting place.
“Oh, come on! You know what I’m talking about! My dance with Gwen.”
He watched the shadow flicker across the young man’s face and laughed dryly.
“See? I hurt you. Again. I keep doing it. I don’t want to hurt you but I don’t realise it when it’s happening, only afterwards…which isn’t much of an excuse…not that I deserve one. It was just seeing her - Gwen - in that dress…she looked so gorgeous and so happy…it…I saw…it brought back memories…”
Jack was rambling, half-finished thoughts falling from his lips, hands waving about trying to make Ianto understand.
“I saw your face when you cut in. I knew I hurt you…Even when we were dancing I had to turn around to check it wasn’t a memory. I knew I shouldn’t be doing it, I knew it was hurting you but stupid, selfish old me runs straight in and does it anyway.”
Letting out a breath of self-loathing and derision he flopped back against the couch, his head lolling back and hands finally falling still. “I am a monster and I don’t deserve you…I don’t deserve anyone.”
Even before Jack got the end of his last sentence out Ianto had pushed himself from the couch t kneel at Jack’s feet, his hands resting on the man’s thighs.
“Jack,” he said urgently. “Jack, look at me.”
Jack’s head rolled forward onto his chest to look at Ianto, his eyes wary, as if he didn’t want Ianto to prove him otherwise.
“You are not a monster, Jack, believe me. You are a man, a man who makes mistakes and more of one because of that.”
He tilted his head as Jack shifted slightly, forcing the older man to keep eye contact.
“But…” Jack looked into Ianto’s eyes, desperately wanting to believe but still angry at himself for hurting a man who meant so much to him. “How can you believe that? You’re the one I always end up hurting.”
Ianto sighed. “Just because you hurt me once in a while doesn’t make you a monster. You, you’re the opposite of a monster. You’re…”
He looked around, searching for an appropriate metaphor and, finding none, he fixed on the one thing missing from the Hub.
“You’re like the sun, shining down on us all. You make this place,” he swept his arm out to gesture at the Hub around them, “a much brighter place - hell, you make the whole world brighter!”
The young man lifted his hands to cup Jack’s face, his thumbs stroking across Jack’s cheeks.
“And when I’m in your arms we could be anywhere in the world and the only thing I’d be looking at is you, my shining sun.”
As Jack’s eyes fluttered closed Ianto’s hands fell from the other man’s face back down to his thighs and began to inch round his waist. He watched as Jack took a deep breath.
Leaning forward Jack wrapped his arms around the still kneeling man’s shoulders and rested his forehead in the crook of his neck. For a moment there was no sound or movement in the office as both men simply held each other.
Then Ianto felt the head on his shoulder turn and a voice, rough with emotion, whisper in his ear.
“If I’m the sun then you are the one who makes me shine.”
Author: rout_obsessie
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Spoilers: 2.9 - Something Borrowed
Summary: In the quiet of the dark night Jack reflects on what happened after Gwen's wedding.
In the Still of the Night
The moon is full in the night sky and the stars look down on the sleeping city. A man sits at an open window, silhouetted against a backdrop of roofs and the warm orange glow from the streetlamps. A breeze ruffles the hair that flops over his forehead, also making the long open curtains billow slightly into the room before falling still once more. The distant noise of the odd car trundling along is joined only by the sighing of the breeze.
The man brings one foot up to rest on the window seat upon which he is sat before raising his arm and resting his elbow on his knee. In this position he cards his fingers through his hair, unconsciously causing it to stick out at all angles, before wearily rubbing his palm down over his face. Turning away from the window and looking into the room his eyes are immediately drawn to the large bed that dominates the centre of the room. A small smile lights his face at the figure he sees sprawled in the middle, sheet tangled around his legs and resting tantalisingly across his hips.
His Ianto, his wonderful, gorgeous boy. It was times like this, in the still and quiet, when he realised just how much this young man had come to mean to him. He was like a dream the older man had always had - comfortingly familiar but always a little unbelievable. When they were together it felt so natural, so real and so scarily perfect - like at any moment he would wake up and find that it really was a dream..
Looking at the sleeping man he knows that he loves him and that he is loved in return. Sometimes the strength of the other man’s love for him is overwhelming, and during his worst moments he is sure that he doesn’t deserve it. Smiling once again he recalls a conversation that passed between them a couple of days previously.
× × × × × × × × × ×
Jack knew that his dance with Gwen had hurt Ianto and he hated himself for it. The young man had proved himself loyal, to both the Captain and the man behind the larger-than-life exterior. Why did Jack have to keep kicking him when he was down, why did he have to keep knocking him back? He didn’t mean to do it…most of the time it just happened.
A few days after the wedding Ianto had walked into Jack’s office to find the man downing his third large measure of scotch. Jack rarely drank and when he did Ianto knew that something was up.
“Jack?”
Jack looked up, his eyes, if Ianto cared to notice (which he did), a little red-rimmed.
“Ianto,” Jack replied, not inviting further conversation.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.” Jack dropped his eyes back to the scotch glass still in his hand. He reached for the tumbler on his desk, aiming to get in at least one more drink before Ianto stopped him. But Ianto was quicker, moving the drink out of Jack’s reach.
“It’s never nothing, Jack.”
The older man simply glared moodily at his companion before slumping back in his chair.
Ianto settled himself in the chair opposite the desk, stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankle. Looking across the expanse of desk that sat between them, he waited. Minutes of silence ticked by, one man sat serenely and calmly watching the other fidget and slouch in his chair.
“Fine!”
An explosion of sound and movement erupted from the sulking form as he jumped up from his chair, causing it to roll back and hit the wall behind.
“Fine! You wanna know what’s wrong? I’ll tell you. You remember what you called me….that night?”
By this point Jack was pacing agitatedly across the floor of the office, pausing to glare at Ianto as he asked that question. Without waiting for a reply he carried on.
“Well, it’s true. That’s me. A monster. A mean, selfish monster who doesn’t give a damn who he hurts as long as he gets what he wants!”
With which statement he flopped down onto the couch and buried his head in his hands. In this position he did not see the look of pain and horror flash across Ianto’s face before he schooled his features and moved over to sit next to Jack, keeping a little distance until he could work out what Jack needed.
“Don’t Jack. You know that’s not true.”
There was no movement from the older man, so Ianto rested his hand on Jack’s hunched shoulder as he spoke again.
“Why now? Why this?”
Jack’s body jerked upright, causing Ianto’s hand to fall from it’s resting place.
“Oh, come on! You know what I’m talking about! My dance with Gwen.”
He watched the shadow flicker across the young man’s face and laughed dryly.
“See? I hurt you. Again. I keep doing it. I don’t want to hurt you but I don’t realise it when it’s happening, only afterwards…which isn’t much of an excuse…not that I deserve one. It was just seeing her - Gwen - in that dress…she looked so gorgeous and so happy…it…I saw…it brought back memories…”
Jack was rambling, half-finished thoughts falling from his lips, hands waving about trying to make Ianto understand.
“I saw your face when you cut in. I knew I hurt you…Even when we were dancing I had to turn around to check it wasn’t a memory. I knew I shouldn’t be doing it, I knew it was hurting you but stupid, selfish old me runs straight in and does it anyway.”
Letting out a breath of self-loathing and derision he flopped back against the couch, his head lolling back and hands finally falling still. “I am a monster and I don’t deserve you…I don’t deserve anyone.”
Even before Jack got the end of his last sentence out Ianto had pushed himself from the couch t kneel at Jack’s feet, his hands resting on the man’s thighs.
“Jack,” he said urgently. “Jack, look at me.”
Jack’s head rolled forward onto his chest to look at Ianto, his eyes wary, as if he didn’t want Ianto to prove him otherwise.
“You are not a monster, Jack, believe me. You are a man, a man who makes mistakes and more of one because of that.”
He tilted his head as Jack shifted slightly, forcing the older man to keep eye contact.
“But…” Jack looked into Ianto’s eyes, desperately wanting to believe but still angry at himself for hurting a man who meant so much to him. “How can you believe that? You’re the one I always end up hurting.”
Ianto sighed. “Just because you hurt me once in a while doesn’t make you a monster. You, you’re the opposite of a monster. You’re…”
He looked around, searching for an appropriate metaphor and, finding none, he fixed on the one thing missing from the Hub.
“You’re like the sun, shining down on us all. You make this place,” he swept his arm out to gesture at the Hub around them, “a much brighter place - hell, you make the whole world brighter!”
The young man lifted his hands to cup Jack’s face, his thumbs stroking across Jack’s cheeks.
“And when I’m in your arms we could be anywhere in the world and the only thing I’d be looking at is you, my shining sun.”
As Jack’s eyes fluttered closed Ianto’s hands fell from the other man’s face back down to his thighs and began to inch round his waist. He watched as Jack took a deep breath.
Leaning forward Jack wrapped his arms around the still kneeling man’s shoulders and rested his forehead in the crook of his neck. For a moment there was no sound or movement in the office as both men simply held each other.
Then Ianto felt the head on his shoulder turn and a voice, rough with emotion, whisper in his ear.
“If I’m the sun then you are the one who makes me shine.”