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 )
Jack dreams in shades of blue. When he opens his eyes, his vision is stained blue and the haunting smell of bluebells follows him half the morning.
Here, on a space station a dozen stars from Earth, he can’t stop seeing bluebell eyes and hearing a mocking, knowing laugh. The Doctor is worried about him, he knows. He hasn’t been flirting, and the Doctor probably thinks that means that Jack is dreadfully ill. Really, it’s that he can’t flirt when he can’t stop feeling the phantom touch of fingers around his neck, can’t stop choking on the ghostly aftertaste of bluebells in his throat.
Two more weeks and he’ll be done here, and then the Doctor will take him home. He clings to the thought. Two more weeks. The Doctor will have his peace treaty, Jack will have a few new toys to integrate into the Hub mainframe, and Ianto will have Jack. Jack imagines what Ianto will do to him. Ianto knows that Jack has abided by everything Ianto has instructed, but Ianto will surely test him. Ianto will make him prove that he hasn’t been touched by anyone else, and then Ianto will decide if he wants to keep Jack. Jack wonders what it will take to keep Ianto interested. He thinks of Ianto sitting in a chair opposite Jack, of bluebell wind pinning Jack down to the bed and flaying him open, of a delighted laugh whispering between them.
Perhaps Ianto will check his body inside and out. Perhaps he will pull Jack’s spirit from him, run his hands aroundthroughover Jack, looking for blemishes. He will pull the pieces he doesn’t like away, feed them to the ghostly black dogs that Jack occasionally sees trailing after Ianto. He will mould what’s left and push it back in, kiss-soft and star-hot and Jack will let him, he will let him do whatever he likes so long as Ianto keeps him.
Two more weeks, Jack thinks, and sees bluebells pressed behind his closed eyes.
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