Christmas Comment!fics [2011]
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Last year, I offered comment!fic in a number of fandoms as a Christmas present to all you lovely folk out there. I got some wonderful prompts and really enjoyed myself writing ficlets for them, so I’ve decided to do the same this year. For those of you who don’t know how this works, let’s go over things:
( Basic Info )
Last year, I offered comment!fic in a number of fandoms as a Christmas present to all you lovely folk out there. I got some wonderful prompts and really enjoyed myself writing ficlets for them, so I’ve decided to do the same this year. For those of you who don’t know how this works, let’s go over things:
( Basic Info )
Also, this turned out much sadder than I thought it would be. Hope it works for you anyway? *sheepish*]
sorrows know how to swim
Ianto considers the question, then reaches for the salt.
“I guess the answer’s something I don’t want to know,” Jack comments.
Ianto carefully sprinkles a little salt into his shot glass, then pours in equal amounts of butterscotch schnapps and Bailey’s. “Where’s the whipped cream?” he asks. Each syllable is over-enunciated in the manner only a truly drunk person can pull off.
Jack reaches across the table and pushes it over. His eyes are dark with - something. Ianto tops off the drink with whipped cream, puts his glass on the table, folds his hands in his lap, and leans forward.
The drink is sweet and sharp, with the bite of salt chasing into his mouth at the end. Ianto swallows every drop, then lets the glass tip out of his mouth and into his waiting hand.
“It’s called a Cum Shot,” he says.
“Your turn,” Jack says. He’s still watching Ianto. Ianto wishes he’d never admitted to having bar-tended before joining Torchwood. He can’t imagine any other way he’d have gotten tricked into a game that should have been ridiculously childish, but instead is hitting uncomfortably close to home.
“I can’t think of anything to ask,” Ianto confesses.
“Make me a drink,” Jack says.
Ianto obediently pulls over Jack’s glass. If he was capable of thinking clearly, he’d make something with a clever name. Something that would change the mood, lighten the conversation. Convince Jack to ask easier questions. Or better yet, abandon the questioning altogether.
Thinking clearly is quite beyond him at the moment, though, so he just makes a layered Buttery Nipple instead.
Jack tosses it back and immediately asks, “Would you ever leave me?”
Ianto tilts back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t think you’re allowed to repeat questions,” he says.
“Ianto,” Jack says.
“I don’t know,” Ianto lies.
Jack doesn’t say anything for a while. The ceiling, Ianto thinks, is really very white. Then Jack gets up and comes around to kiss Ianto’s mouth, all cream and schnapps and gin and vodka. Ianto tries a couple of times and finally manages to focus on Jack’s face; it’s kind and sad and Ianto thinks that Jack has heard both the lie Ianto has said and the truth he hasn’t.
I will leave you, Ianto thinks, because one day, I will die for you and your cause and then I won’t have a choice but it won’t matter because whatever I feel, whatever I want, there’s only one way this can end, and that’s with me leaving you.
He kisses Jack desperately, and presses the truth between their lips.
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Loved it! Even as it broke my heart. :)
~T
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