remember me as a time of day (1/1)
title: remember me as a time of day
rating: r for nudity
pairing: jack/ianto
spoilers: post 'journey's end'
disclaimer: rtd and the beeb own pretty much everyone. i'll have to check, but they might even own me.
writer's note: also for the horizonssing day twenty-three challenge, a little late because TODAY IS MY EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY. feedback welcome.
summary: in which ianto dozes and jack is surprised.
the (slightly nws) prompt
Jack could stay here for a while, just like this, he thinks, and it’s a surprise.
They’re in Ianto’s bed for a change, with the late afternoon sun streaming through the window behind them, dappling over hipbones and thighs and forearms in a way that’s almost inspiring. (If he can call planning their next bout in his head the result of inspiration, which he’s really not sure he can.) It’s just that Ianto looks so gloriously perfect lying there, dozing in the warm summer light, his hair mussed and his lips swollen, just barely covered by the sheet, and his hand soft in Jack’s, their fingers entwined in a way that is supremely fascinating. And he wants to stay.
The surprise doesn’t come because he wants to stay in the bed, because he wants to stay naked, because he wants to stay wrapped in the comfort of their one and only day off in months for as long as he can. The surprise comes because he’s not thinking about the Doctor, and he’s not thinking about how old he is, and he’s not thinking about dying - he’s thinking about Ianto, just about Ianto Jones. About how beautiful Ianto is, sleepy and sated, slowly becoming a part of Jack’s life he could get used to. About how close he came to losing Ianto for longer than forever.
He doesn’t talk much about it, not now that it’s over, and maybe that’s a mistake. Daleks came and went, twice now in Ianto’s life, twice now in Jack’s, and that’s a scary feeling, especially since they both survived. He didn’t realize how close it had been until he saw the CCTV footage tucked into the report; the carnage had all been well disposed of by the time he made it truly home. And maybe that was a mistake too, not coming home sooner, not taking the time to spend with Ianto until now, not warning Ianto or Gwen of the new team members. Ianto knows how to take care of people and Ianto knows how to take care of Jack, and if that means retreating back into the shadows, he does it gladly, and Jack has decided he doesn’t want that any more.
And now, right now, looking at Ianto’s hip and holding Ianto’s hand, he knows why, and that is the true surprise. And it’s simple, simpler than anything there has ever been between them: he wants the two of them to be equal. Completely equal, not Captain and Tea-boy. Not Captain and anything, come to think of it. Just Jack and Ianto, whether together or apart.
Jack lifts their tangled fingers and presses the back of Ianto’s hand to his lips, holding it just there until Ianto stirs to look up at him, sleepy-eyed and stunning. There’s a warmth there that floods Jack’s body, a deep and understanding kind of love that is as much a surprise as anything he’s realized about Ianto in the past twenty minutes. Ianto draws his hand out of Jack’s fingers and lays hold of his jaw, bringing Jack’s face down to meet his in a slow, languid, sensational kiss that leaves Jack reeling the way a kiss has never done before.
Jack can’t say the words that he should, and won’t say the words that he can. But he knows with a certainty that comes of centuries of lovers, centuries of relationships, that Ianto is his partner, pure and simple, and he knows just as surely that he wouldn’t have it any other way.
And, truly, that’s not a surprise at all.
rating: r for nudity
pairing: jack/ianto
spoilers: post 'journey's end'
disclaimer: rtd and the beeb own pretty much everyone. i'll have to check, but they might even own me.
writer's note: also for the horizonssing day twenty-three challenge, a little late because TODAY IS MY EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY. feedback welcome.
summary: in which ianto dozes and jack is surprised.
the (slightly nws) prompt
Jack could stay here for a while, just like this, he thinks, and it’s a surprise.
They’re in Ianto’s bed for a change, with the late afternoon sun streaming through the window behind them, dappling over hipbones and thighs and forearms in a way that’s almost inspiring. (If he can call planning their next bout in his head the result of inspiration, which he’s really not sure he can.) It’s just that Ianto looks so gloriously perfect lying there, dozing in the warm summer light, his hair mussed and his lips swollen, just barely covered by the sheet, and his hand soft in Jack’s, their fingers entwined in a way that is supremely fascinating. And he wants to stay.
The surprise doesn’t come because he wants to stay in the bed, because he wants to stay naked, because he wants to stay wrapped in the comfort of their one and only day off in months for as long as he can. The surprise comes because he’s not thinking about the Doctor, and he’s not thinking about how old he is, and he’s not thinking about dying - he’s thinking about Ianto, just about Ianto Jones. About how beautiful Ianto is, sleepy and sated, slowly becoming a part of Jack’s life he could get used to. About how close he came to losing Ianto for longer than forever.
He doesn’t talk much about it, not now that it’s over, and maybe that’s a mistake. Daleks came and went, twice now in Ianto’s life, twice now in Jack’s, and that’s a scary feeling, especially since they both survived. He didn’t realize how close it had been until he saw the CCTV footage tucked into the report; the carnage had all been well disposed of by the time he made it truly home. And maybe that was a mistake too, not coming home sooner, not taking the time to spend with Ianto until now, not warning Ianto or Gwen of the new team members. Ianto knows how to take care of people and Ianto knows how to take care of Jack, and if that means retreating back into the shadows, he does it gladly, and Jack has decided he doesn’t want that any more.
And now, right now, looking at Ianto’s hip and holding Ianto’s hand, he knows why, and that is the true surprise. And it’s simple, simpler than anything there has ever been between them: he wants the two of them to be equal. Completely equal, not Captain and Tea-boy. Not Captain and anything, come to think of it. Just Jack and Ianto, whether together or apart.
Jack lifts their tangled fingers and presses the back of Ianto’s hand to his lips, holding it just there until Ianto stirs to look up at him, sleepy-eyed and stunning. There’s a warmth there that floods Jack’s body, a deep and understanding kind of love that is as much a surprise as anything he’s realized about Ianto in the past twenty minutes. Ianto draws his hand out of Jack’s fingers and lays hold of his jaw, bringing Jack’s face down to meet his in a slow, languid, sensational kiss that leaves Jack reeling the way a kiss has never done before.
Jack can’t say the words that he should, and won’t say the words that he can. But he knows with a certainty that comes of centuries of lovers, centuries of relationships, that Ianto is his partner, pure and simple, and he knows just as surely that he wouldn’t have it any other way.
And, truly, that’s not a surprise at all.