The History Of A Soldier's Wound Beguiles The Pain Of It
Title: The History Of A Soldier's Wound Beguiles The Pain Of It
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Notes/Summary: In which Jack thinks he's alone, and Ianto reads aloud from Tristram Shandy. Doesn't explicitly reference 2x13 - "Exit Wounds," but some of the point is lost if this isn't read as occurring after that ep. Written for the July 12 prompt at horizonssing.
"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: 'What! You, too? Thought I was the only one.'"
- C.S. Lewis
Jack strode through the gates of the security cage and into the Hub proper with a takeaway curry in one hand and a bag from Troutmark Books under his arm. Gwen was long gone, having jumped at the chance to spend a free Sunday afternoon with Rhys, and Ianto wasn’t in the tourist office.
It was strange, but not altogether bad to have a little solitude.
He left his food and his books on his desk, then meandered out to the kitchenette for a glass of water. When he stepped into his office again, he found Ianto waiting there, reading the battered copy of Tristram Shandy Jack had bought while he was out.
He began to speak, but Ianto held up a finger to shush him. Jack closed his mouth.
“Pray, my dear, quoth my mother,” Ianto read aloud. “Have you not forgot to wind up the clock?”
Ianto turned another couple of pages, chuckled, and closed the book. “It was never as dirty as I’d hoped it would be. The film was alright though.” He laid it down on Jack’s desk near the unopened curry.
“I thought you’d gone home.” Jack sat down at his desk, glass in hand. “I’d have brought you some dinner.”
Ianto shook his head. “I was down in the archives. It’s been a little while since I’ve had a chance to really work down there, and I didn’t want to waste a quiet afternoon.”
Jack was silent for a moment, not quite trusting himself to speak.
"Still," Ianto said, but didn't elaborate.
Jack opened his food. “They gave me two forks.”
“I’ll go get a chair," Ianto suggested. "And maybe the Flake bar I hid in the stationery cupboard.”
Jack looked up and nodded as Ianto squeezed his shoulder.
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Notes/Summary: In which Jack thinks he's alone, and Ianto reads aloud from Tristram Shandy. Doesn't explicitly reference 2x13 - "Exit Wounds," but some of the point is lost if this isn't read as occurring after that ep. Written for the July 12 prompt at horizonssing.
"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: 'What! You, too? Thought I was the only one.'"
- C.S. Lewis
Jack strode through the gates of the security cage and into the Hub proper with a takeaway curry in one hand and a bag from Troutmark Books under his arm. Gwen was long gone, having jumped at the chance to spend a free Sunday afternoon with Rhys, and Ianto wasn’t in the tourist office.
It was strange, but not altogether bad to have a little solitude.
He left his food and his books on his desk, then meandered out to the kitchenette for a glass of water. When he stepped into his office again, he found Ianto waiting there, reading the battered copy of Tristram Shandy Jack had bought while he was out.
He began to speak, but Ianto held up a finger to shush him. Jack closed his mouth.
“Pray, my dear, quoth my mother,” Ianto read aloud. “Have you not forgot to wind up the clock?”
Ianto turned another couple of pages, chuckled, and closed the book. “It was never as dirty as I’d hoped it would be. The film was alright though.” He laid it down on Jack’s desk near the unopened curry.
“I thought you’d gone home.” Jack sat down at his desk, glass in hand. “I’d have brought you some dinner.”
Ianto shook his head. “I was down in the archives. It’s been a little while since I’ve had a chance to really work down there, and I didn’t want to waste a quiet afternoon.”
Jack was silent for a moment, not quite trusting himself to speak.
"Still," Ianto said, but didn't elaborate.
Jack opened his food. “They gave me two forks.”
“I’ll go get a chair," Ianto suggested. "And maybe the Flake bar I hid in the stationery cupboard.”
Jack looked up and nodded as Ianto squeezed his shoulder.