Fic: They Shine so Hard 1/1 [PG] Torchwood/Highlander
Title: They Shine so Hard
Author: A Lanart
Character(s)/pairings: Methos/Jack/Ianto
Fandom and/or Prompt: Torchwood. No prompt
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Warnings: None - takes place during S2 Torchwood in my ongoing TW/HL AU though it can stand alone.
Summary: Ianto watches...
Disclaimer: Anything you might recognise doesn't belong to me.
Title pinched from the song Stars are Stars by Echo and the Bunnymen.
Written for consci_fan_mo Day 13
A/N: The way this is written is a bit of a departure for me, but it's the way it wanted to be done...
~*~
They Shine so Hard
*
There is something almost spell binding about watching a lover sleep by the soft glimmer of moonlight, as if there is something that you can only capture in that particular instant and that you will never see again.
For me it is more than twice true, considering that the two who share a bed with me also share something with each other that could be considered magical to all intents and purposes. That is not how I view immortality, however. People tend to believe that magic should be gentle and good, a holdover from childhood perhaps; there is precious little that is gentle in being condemned to live forever, whether you have to live by the sword like Methos or not.
So it is that moments like this, when I can watch them sleep, truly are magical and infinitely precious for only I have the privilege to see them this way; undone, at peace and *mine* for as long as I have. I don’t kid myself that what we have will last, how can it when I am on a journey to a place that they can never go? Then there is Torchwood… it is in my blood, part of my soul and will be the death of me; this I know, bone deep. It makes no difference; they have me for as long as I can give them.
Therefore, when I wake in the dark of the night I sit there and I watch, savouring each moment like the treasure it is, where past and future mean nothing and we are merely ourselves.
*
Methos is sprawled across more than his fair share of the bed, not that this matters with me sitting on the edge of the mattress and Jack snuggled tight into Methos, snuffling gently into his back with a sound that is not quite a snore and not quite a mumble. That Methos sprawls in bed is no surprise, he lays claim to almost every piece of furniture he parks his gorgeous arse on in such a way. No, the surprise is in the fact that he is a snuggler too.
I reach out to touch his face without thinking, then stop only an inch or so away from his skin; I can feel the heat radiating off him and it makes me realise how cold it is without his arms around me.
A hand darts out to grasp my wrist; even in sleep Methos seems to be aware of me. His thumb absently caresses the circular scar on my left wrist as he mumbles sleepily at me without opening his eyes,
“What’re you doing, Ianto?”
“I was watching you sleep,” I reply softly, not wanting to disturb Jack too - he sleeps this deeply so seldom.
“Then stop Watching, and come here; the bed’s too big without you.” In the face of such drowsy logic, there is no protest to make and I do what I am bid with a smile on my face.
Author: A Lanart
Character(s)/pairings: Methos/Jack/Ianto
Fandom and/or Prompt: Torchwood. No prompt
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Warnings: None - takes place during S2 Torchwood in my ongoing TW/HL AU though it can stand alone.
Summary: Ianto watches...
Disclaimer: Anything you might recognise doesn't belong to me.
Title pinched from the song Stars are Stars by Echo and the Bunnymen.
Written for consci_fan_mo Day 13
A/N: The way this is written is a bit of a departure for me, but it's the way it wanted to be done...
~*~
They Shine so Hard
*
There is something almost spell binding about watching a lover sleep by the soft glimmer of moonlight, as if there is something that you can only capture in that particular instant and that you will never see again.
For me it is more than twice true, considering that the two who share a bed with me also share something with each other that could be considered magical to all intents and purposes. That is not how I view immortality, however. People tend to believe that magic should be gentle and good, a holdover from childhood perhaps; there is precious little that is gentle in being condemned to live forever, whether you have to live by the sword like Methos or not.
So it is that moments like this, when I can watch them sleep, truly are magical and infinitely precious for only I have the privilege to see them this way; undone, at peace and *mine* for as long as I have. I don’t kid myself that what we have will last, how can it when I am on a journey to a place that they can never go? Then there is Torchwood… it is in my blood, part of my soul and will be the death of me; this I know, bone deep. It makes no difference; they have me for as long as I can give them.
Therefore, when I wake in the dark of the night I sit there and I watch, savouring each moment like the treasure it is, where past and future mean nothing and we are merely ourselves.
*
Methos is sprawled across more than his fair share of the bed, not that this matters with me sitting on the edge of the mattress and Jack snuggled tight into Methos, snuffling gently into his back with a sound that is not quite a snore and not quite a mumble. That Methos sprawls in bed is no surprise, he lays claim to almost every piece of furniture he parks his gorgeous arse on in such a way. No, the surprise is in the fact that he is a snuggler too.
I reach out to touch his face without thinking, then stop only an inch or so away from his skin; I can feel the heat radiating off him and it makes me realise how cold it is without his arms around me.
A hand darts out to grasp my wrist; even in sleep Methos seems to be aware of me. His thumb absently caresses the circular scar on my left wrist as he mumbles sleepily at me without opening his eyes,
“What’re you doing, Ianto?”
“I was watching you sleep,” I reply softly, not wanting to disturb Jack too - he sleeps this deeply so seldom.
“Then stop Watching, and come here; the bed’s too big without you.” In the face of such drowsy logic, there is no protest to make and I do what I am bid with a smile on my face.