Deviations from the Norm -- Paint By Numbers
Title: Deviations from the Norm
Chapter Four: Paint By Numbers
dwtwprompt prompt: Writer's Choice: "I love you. You're my number one. That's all I wanted to say." -- Li Sayoran, Cardcaptor Sakura
Date Written: 5/17/08
Rating: PG-13/T
Word Count: 1,840
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Spoilers: TW Season 1 & 2 (particularly Meat and Adam), Doctor Who up to Season 03
Warnings: Mentions m/m sex
Author's Notes: This is set immediately post Meat, so Ianto isn't a Companion yet. And the quote is from CLAMP because I am a CLAMP whore. And proud of it, baby!
ETA: I realize that this chapter seems fairly out of order, so please allow me to explain -- I never really meant for this story to be a linear account of Ianto and Jack post-Doctor travel; instead it's just a collection of private (or not-so private) Janto moments. This part wrote itself after the wedding chapter started (no, I do not write with an actual plot in my head, just random scenes that string themselves together).
1/?: De Mortuis Nil Nisi Bonum Dicendum Est
2/?: It's Like Battle, But Harder
3.1/?: I'll Know It When I See It
3.2/?: Some Cupid Kills With Arrows, Some With Traps
3.3/?: Keeping Up With The Joneses
3.4/?: Speak Low, If You Speak Love
3.5/?: Shall I Never See a Bachelor of Threescore Again?
The team always teased Jack about his rooftop fetish, but he couldn't help it; he was always drawn to high places.
Some days he thought it was because he'd never lived a 'grounded' life until after he'd become immortal. A childhood lived in constant terror combined with fighting wars and joining the Time Agency the moment he was able to had made for tumultuous formative years, followed by decades of bouncing around Space and Time. Even on Earth, he'd enlisted into both World Wars as a pilot, anxious to get his feet off the ground, to be a little bit closer to those stars he'd been born among. To get a little closer to home.
Some days -- most days -- he liked to watch the city, the ordinary people going among their ordinary lives. Going to work and school, falling in and out of love, laughing and crying, one beautiful, ugly, glorious extreme to the other. Living.
It made the inherit ugliness in Humanity seem a little less severe, the harshness muffled by the sound of wind in his ears and the beauty of the city at his feet.
He'd left Ianto in their bed, carefully crawling out as soon as the young man had dropped off to sleep. Both of them were used to Jack's lack of sleep, so he barely shifted when Jack slid out from under the covers and kissed his forehead. He'd dressed quietly and made his way up to the roof of Ianto's apartment complex, standing on the corner with his back to the door, the toes of his shoes hanging over the edge of the roof.
He shivered absently and as if summoned, he felt the warm woolen weight of his jacket over his shoulders. He started and looked over to find Ianto standing behind him, a robe pulled tight around his body against the wind and two mugs of coffee at his feet.
The immortal stepped down from the ledge as Ianto stooped to pick up the coffee, holding out one mug for Jack. "It's cold out," he said quietly, barely audible over the wind.
"I didn't mean to wake you," Jack replied, putting on his greatcoat properly.
"You didn't," Ianto replied. "Couldn't stay asleep."
Jack frowned a little. "Bad dream?"
"Something like that," the Welshman said blandly.
Ianto spoke volumes, and he did it very quietly.
"Do you really think you could go back to your life before Torchwood?"
"I wouldn't know any different."
"I would."
In the quiet, as Gwen and Jack stared one another down, very faintly, the sound of a heart breaking.
They made their way back down to Ianto's flat, Jack using his wrist strap to reactivate the fire alarm on the door to the roof. He hung up his coat and watched as Ianto shed his robe, tossing it casually onto his couch. If the others knew how casually Ianto really lived outside of work they'd ask if he'd been possessed by an alien. His bookshelves were constantly dusty, clothes were often strewn about the place, and dirty dishes flowed freely in the sink, a testament to how hectic working for Torchwood really was -- either being called in suddenly, or being far too tired to do more than collapse into bed at the end of the night.
"Are you staying the night, or do you want something to eat before you go?" Ianto called out over his bare shoulder, already heading into the kitchen.
Jack followed and watched the naked expanse of Ianto's back from the doorway. His trouser pants were low on his hips, and Jack could see a bruise along the line of his spine. Fading now, thanks to a little Harkness energy. It would probably be gone by morning. "Are you throwing me out or inviting me to stay?" he asked back.
"Whatever you want, Jack."
Jack watched, assessing the situation before him like the seasoned soldier he was. On the upside, Ianto was still calling him Jack. On the downside, he was refusing to look Jack straight in the eye, talking in his office 'yes sir' voice, and giving open-ended responses. Proceed with caution.
"What do you want, Yan?"
Ianto turned to look at him, and instantly the whole outlook changed. The Vidara necklace was still fastened around his neck; the younger man was mad at him, but he hadn't taken the little piece of jewelry off.
Jack's heart nearly stopped when he saw Ianto, with their hands tied behind their backs. He tried to take a deep breath, reassure himself as he had tried to quietly reassure Gwen.
Ianto would be fine.
Ianto was a highly-trained Torchwood operative. He'd been prepped for this sort of thing, by Torchwood One and by Jack himself. He was resourceful, he was brilliant, he was quick on his feet. He could -- and probably was -- running about eighty different scenarios through that beautiful head of his.
Ianto would be fine.
Ianto was a hostage, and Jack wanted nothing more than to sink a bullet into the man holding a gun at his Ianto.
He saw the look of intense concentration on Ianto's face, the slight wince of pain, and instantly knew what he was doing. So he talked, told secrets he shouldn't have, giving Ianto enough time to pull himself out of his bonds.
The gun went off, a slug into Rhys Williams' shoulder. Ianto came free a half-second after, grabbing the gun and pushing it away from the rest of the team, the gunshots reverberating in the warehouse. The alien came to life, from the pain of getting cut up alive or from the fresh pain of bullet holes, they never found out. The cables started breaking. He watched Ianto and Dale scuffle for control of the gun, dismayed at his inability to get in a clear shot. Another cable broke, and Jack grabbed Tosh, pulling her out of the way before she got sliced in half.
Dale threw Ianto off of him, pointing the gun at the Welshman's head. "Die!"
Time stopped. Jack couldn't breathe. This was it, the moment he'd been dreading ever since he first laid eyes on Ianto Jones, the moment where the universe would be a bitch and take away the other half of his soul.
The Vidara necklace flared hot against his skin, almost scorching his skin.
Click.
Click.
The gun had jammed.
Ianto opened his mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it. He shook his head, then gave his tight, professional smile. "We both know that doesn't matter, now does it?"
Jack blinked at him. "What does that mean?"
Ianto chuckled darkly. "You should know by now that I'd follow you merrily into Hell, Jack. I'd probably even hold the door open for you."
Jack put his hands in his pockets and watched. Ianto was cracking a little. The stress of the day, of the whole insane mission, had gotten to all of them. Given enough time, Ianto would tell him what his tipping point had been.
"I thought..." He swallowed, averting his eyes again. "I thought I could handle not being first in your life." Jack furrowed his eyebrows, confused, but Ianto missed it, finding a flaw in the tiling extremely interesting. "There's Torchwood, and your Doctor. The names of people you call for when you do sleep: Gray. Rose. Martha. Estelle. Tosh. Owen." Here, he paused and swallowed hard again. "...Gwen. I thought I could, I really did, but now? I don't know."
"What does any of that have to do with this?" Jack asked softly. "With right here, right now?"
"Don't you see them? They're ghosts. They haunt this room, haunt our lives."
"I'll ask again. What does any of that have to do with this?"
"Everything, Jack. Absolutely everything. They're first and I'm second."
Jack was still staring at the CCTV feed of the docks three hours later, when Ianto set the reports down on his desk. Blue eyes tore away from the screen to look at the dark-haired man. "Thank you."
Ianto gave a polite nod in response and bent to pick up a piece of paper that had fluttered to the ground. He was unable to hide the resulting wince as he straightened.
Jack was out of his chair and around the desk in an instant. "Are you all right?"
"Just a little sore, sir." He smiled. "I've gotten a lot worse before."
"Let me see," the Captain insisted, already turning Ianto around and tugging at the back of the waistcoat. He winced himself when he saw the purplish bruise on Ianto's lower back. He leaned in and kissed the bruise feather-softly. "I"m sorry."
"My own fault for getting caught," Ianto replied, lowering his shirt.
"No, Ianto -- "
"I'm going to make some coffee, sir, one last round before Tosh and Owen leave," the Welshman said, tucking his shirt tail into his trousers. "I'll make yours to go, if you wish."
He walked off, leaving Jack to stare after him in confusion.
"Torchwood, and the Doctor, I understand. I do. They're bigger than me, than any so-called semblance of what we are -- or what, more likely, I've concocted in my head of 'us'." Ianto paused to take a breath and Jack opened his mouth to argue, but the younger man held up a hand. "No, let me finish, Jack. I know you, too, how easily you separate sex and love and live the swinger lifestyle, as much as you hate our quaint little labels."
He paused and leaned back against the counter, his shoulders slumping in obvious defeat as he focused on the floor again. Long, slender fingers coming up to tangle into the golden chain of his necklace. "I just... assumed that you had meant something different. A fault of my own."
"I'm yours, 'Yan, for as long as you'll have me."
And suddenly, Jack understood what Ianto was trying to say.
"I did mean it."
Ianto lifted his gaze from the tile to look up at Jack. "Don't -- "
"I'm not," Jack insisted, stepping forward. "I meant it."
"But the others -- "
Jack put his hands on Ianto's shoulders, tipping his chin up to look at him. "The others? Torchwood is our life, both yours and mine, and you know it. You can no more give up Torchwood than I can give up you. The Doctor was an infatuation, a shadow of a dream I concocted, a persona I fell in love with, and reality fell way short of my ideal. The others, they mean a lot to me. I love them all, I do, I always will, but never in the way that I love you."
Beautiful blue eyes widened, and Jack realized he'd never actually told Ianto that he loved him before. He'd shown it, as good as said it hundreds of times, but never actually said the words.
He could have kicked himself.
"I don't want anyone else. I love you, Ianto Jones. You're my number one."
ETA: Chapter five here
Chapter Four: Paint By Numbers
dwtwprompt prompt: Writer's Choice: "I love you. You're my number one. That's all I wanted to say." -- Li Sayoran, Cardcaptor Sakura
Date Written: 5/17/08
Rating: PG-13/T
Word Count: 1,840
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Spoilers: TW Season 1 & 2 (particularly Meat and Adam), Doctor Who up to Season 03
Warnings: Mentions m/m sex
Author's Notes: This is set immediately post Meat, so Ianto isn't a Companion yet. And the quote is from CLAMP because I am a CLAMP whore. And proud of it, baby!
ETA: I realize that this chapter seems fairly out of order, so please allow me to explain -- I never really meant for this story to be a linear account of Ianto and Jack post-Doctor travel; instead it's just a collection of private (or not-so private) Janto moments. This part wrote itself after the wedding chapter started (no, I do not write with an actual plot in my head, just random scenes that string themselves together).
1/?: De Mortuis Nil Nisi Bonum Dicendum Est
2/?: It's Like Battle, But Harder
3.1/?: I'll Know It When I See It
3.2/?: Some Cupid Kills With Arrows, Some With Traps
3.3/?: Keeping Up With The Joneses
3.4/?: Speak Low, If You Speak Love
3.5/?: Shall I Never See a Bachelor of Threescore Again?
The team always teased Jack about his rooftop fetish, but he couldn't help it; he was always drawn to high places.
Some days he thought it was because he'd never lived a 'grounded' life until after he'd become immortal. A childhood lived in constant terror combined with fighting wars and joining the Time Agency the moment he was able to had made for tumultuous formative years, followed by decades of bouncing around Space and Time. Even on Earth, he'd enlisted into both World Wars as a pilot, anxious to get his feet off the ground, to be a little bit closer to those stars he'd been born among. To get a little closer to home.
Some days -- most days -- he liked to watch the city, the ordinary people going among their ordinary lives. Going to work and school, falling in and out of love, laughing and crying, one beautiful, ugly, glorious extreme to the other. Living.
It made the inherit ugliness in Humanity seem a little less severe, the harshness muffled by the sound of wind in his ears and the beauty of the city at his feet.
He'd left Ianto in their bed, carefully crawling out as soon as the young man had dropped off to sleep. Both of them were used to Jack's lack of sleep, so he barely shifted when Jack slid out from under the covers and kissed his forehead. He'd dressed quietly and made his way up to the roof of Ianto's apartment complex, standing on the corner with his back to the door, the toes of his shoes hanging over the edge of the roof.
He shivered absently and as if summoned, he felt the warm woolen weight of his jacket over his shoulders. He started and looked over to find Ianto standing behind him, a robe pulled tight around his body against the wind and two mugs of coffee at his feet.
The immortal stepped down from the ledge as Ianto stooped to pick up the coffee, holding out one mug for Jack. "It's cold out," he said quietly, barely audible over the wind.
"I didn't mean to wake you," Jack replied, putting on his greatcoat properly.
"You didn't," Ianto replied. "Couldn't stay asleep."
Jack frowned a little. "Bad dream?"
"Something like that," the Welshman said blandly.
Ianto spoke volumes, and he did it very quietly.
"Do you really think you could go back to your life before Torchwood?"
"I wouldn't know any different."
"I would."
In the quiet, as Gwen and Jack stared one another down, very faintly, the sound of a heart breaking.
They made their way back down to Ianto's flat, Jack using his wrist strap to reactivate the fire alarm on the door to the roof. He hung up his coat and watched as Ianto shed his robe, tossing it casually onto his couch. If the others knew how casually Ianto really lived outside of work they'd ask if he'd been possessed by an alien. His bookshelves were constantly dusty, clothes were often strewn about the place, and dirty dishes flowed freely in the sink, a testament to how hectic working for Torchwood really was -- either being called in suddenly, or being far too tired to do more than collapse into bed at the end of the night.
"Are you staying the night, or do you want something to eat before you go?" Ianto called out over his bare shoulder, already heading into the kitchen.
Jack followed and watched the naked expanse of Ianto's back from the doorway. His trouser pants were low on his hips, and Jack could see a bruise along the line of his spine. Fading now, thanks to a little Harkness energy. It would probably be gone by morning. "Are you throwing me out or inviting me to stay?" he asked back.
"Whatever you want, Jack."
Jack watched, assessing the situation before him like the seasoned soldier he was. On the upside, Ianto was still calling him Jack. On the downside, he was refusing to look Jack straight in the eye, talking in his office 'yes sir' voice, and giving open-ended responses. Proceed with caution.
"What do you want, Yan?"
Ianto turned to look at him, and instantly the whole outlook changed. The Vidara necklace was still fastened around his neck; the younger man was mad at him, but he hadn't taken the little piece of jewelry off.
Jack's heart nearly stopped when he saw Ianto, with their hands tied behind their backs. He tried to take a deep breath, reassure himself as he had tried to quietly reassure Gwen.
Ianto would be fine.
Ianto was a highly-trained Torchwood operative. He'd been prepped for this sort of thing, by Torchwood One and by Jack himself. He was resourceful, he was brilliant, he was quick on his feet. He could -- and probably was -- running about eighty different scenarios through that beautiful head of his.
Ianto would be fine.
Ianto was a hostage, and Jack wanted nothing more than to sink a bullet into the man holding a gun at his Ianto.
He saw the look of intense concentration on Ianto's face, the slight wince of pain, and instantly knew what he was doing. So he talked, told secrets he shouldn't have, giving Ianto enough time to pull himself out of his bonds.
The gun went off, a slug into Rhys Williams' shoulder. Ianto came free a half-second after, grabbing the gun and pushing it away from the rest of the team, the gunshots reverberating in the warehouse. The alien came to life, from the pain of getting cut up alive or from the fresh pain of bullet holes, they never found out. The cables started breaking. He watched Ianto and Dale scuffle for control of the gun, dismayed at his inability to get in a clear shot. Another cable broke, and Jack grabbed Tosh, pulling her out of the way before she got sliced in half.
Dale threw Ianto off of him, pointing the gun at the Welshman's head. "Die!"
Time stopped. Jack couldn't breathe. This was it, the moment he'd been dreading ever since he first laid eyes on Ianto Jones, the moment where the universe would be a bitch and take away the other half of his soul.
The Vidara necklace flared hot against his skin, almost scorching his skin.
Click.
Click.
The gun had jammed.
Ianto opened his mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it. He shook his head, then gave his tight, professional smile. "We both know that doesn't matter, now does it?"
Jack blinked at him. "What does that mean?"
Ianto chuckled darkly. "You should know by now that I'd follow you merrily into Hell, Jack. I'd probably even hold the door open for you."
Jack put his hands in his pockets and watched. Ianto was cracking a little. The stress of the day, of the whole insane mission, had gotten to all of them. Given enough time, Ianto would tell him what his tipping point had been.
"I thought..." He swallowed, averting his eyes again. "I thought I could handle not being first in your life." Jack furrowed his eyebrows, confused, but Ianto missed it, finding a flaw in the tiling extremely interesting. "There's Torchwood, and your Doctor. The names of people you call for when you do sleep: Gray. Rose. Martha. Estelle. Tosh. Owen." Here, he paused and swallowed hard again. "...Gwen. I thought I could, I really did, but now? I don't know."
"What does any of that have to do with this?" Jack asked softly. "With right here, right now?"
"Don't you see them? They're ghosts. They haunt this room, haunt our lives."
"I'll ask again. What does any of that have to do with this?"
"Everything, Jack. Absolutely everything. They're first and I'm second."
Jack was still staring at the CCTV feed of the docks three hours later, when Ianto set the reports down on his desk. Blue eyes tore away from the screen to look at the dark-haired man. "Thank you."
Ianto gave a polite nod in response and bent to pick up a piece of paper that had fluttered to the ground. He was unable to hide the resulting wince as he straightened.
Jack was out of his chair and around the desk in an instant. "Are you all right?"
"Just a little sore, sir." He smiled. "I've gotten a lot worse before."
"Let me see," the Captain insisted, already turning Ianto around and tugging at the back of the waistcoat. He winced himself when he saw the purplish bruise on Ianto's lower back. He leaned in and kissed the bruise feather-softly. "I"m sorry."
"My own fault for getting caught," Ianto replied, lowering his shirt.
"No, Ianto -- "
"I'm going to make some coffee, sir, one last round before Tosh and Owen leave," the Welshman said, tucking his shirt tail into his trousers. "I'll make yours to go, if you wish."
He walked off, leaving Jack to stare after him in confusion.
"Torchwood, and the Doctor, I understand. I do. They're bigger than me, than any so-called semblance of what we are -- or what, more likely, I've concocted in my head of 'us'." Ianto paused to take a breath and Jack opened his mouth to argue, but the younger man held up a hand. "No, let me finish, Jack. I know you, too, how easily you separate sex and love and live the swinger lifestyle, as much as you hate our quaint little labels."
He paused and leaned back against the counter, his shoulders slumping in obvious defeat as he focused on the floor again. Long, slender fingers coming up to tangle into the golden chain of his necklace. "I just... assumed that you had meant something different. A fault of my own."
"I'm yours, 'Yan, for as long as you'll have me."
And suddenly, Jack understood what Ianto was trying to say.
"I did mean it."
Ianto lifted his gaze from the tile to look up at Jack. "Don't -- "
"I'm not," Jack insisted, stepping forward. "I meant it."
"But the others -- "
Jack put his hands on Ianto's shoulders, tipping his chin up to look at him. "The others? Torchwood is our life, both yours and mine, and you know it. You can no more give up Torchwood than I can give up you. The Doctor was an infatuation, a shadow of a dream I concocted, a persona I fell in love with, and reality fell way short of my ideal. The others, they mean a lot to me. I love them all, I do, I always will, but never in the way that I love you."
Beautiful blue eyes widened, and Jack realized he'd never actually told Ianto that he loved him before. He'd shown it, as good as said it hundreds of times, but never actually said the words.
He could have kicked himself.
"I don't want anyone else. I love you, Ianto Jones. You're my number one."
ETA: Chapter five here