Rambling Thoughts of a Chilled Welshman
I did it again. I have to work in 3 hours. My alarm will go off in less then that.. and yet, here I am. writing. *sighs*
stupid bed and it sbeing cold and without Josh. *looks crossly at bed*
At any rate. Again... my thoughts, his words. Because Ianto is much better with them then me.
Disclaimers: Jack belongs to Ianto. Forever. Both belong to their fans. Cause when we abuse them, we usually give them sex and coffee afterwards.
Rambling Thoughts of a Chilled Welshman
Ianto stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. He hated it when he couldn’t sleep. It made him cranky the next day. He hated being cranky too. He touched the other side of the bed.. it was cold. It was always cold nowadays.
Ianto couldn’t think. Actually that was a lie, he was thinking too much. This always happened when he couldn’t sleep.. he thought too much. Although, he’d also been told he thought too much when he was fully awake too. He sighed. That was nearly two full minutes of thinking about thinking. And if this is how it was going to be…
He tried to count the little blips on the ceiling. Stupid concrete ceiling. It was so … untidy. Why would anyone make a ceiling out of concrete. No, Jones… bad line of thought. Then you’re going to start wondering why anyone would make a bunker out of concrete… and then you’re just getting silly. It was messy though… Concrete was so not smooth. Coarse and rough and …. Ok really. Where was he going with all this? He should be sleeping, not thinking about the aesthetics of stoneware.
Sleep. Ianto closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep. It just wasn’t happening. Instinctively, his hand crept to the other side of the bed again. Still cold. He didn’t pause to wonder why he had thought it might be filled with warm Jack. That was a line of thinking that he really really didn’t want to inspect.
He turned over onto his right side. It felt weird. He didn’t sleep on his right side. Jack liked to be the protective one. To chase Ianto’s nightmares away. And Jack slept on the right side of the bed, so it didn’t work out all that well. Ianto checked again… still cold. No Jack yet.
He thought about filing. Paperwork and archiving. That’s what he did, right? And it was a rather tedius subject… Ianto enjoyed it though. It calmed him. He liked things in order. A followed by B followed by C, until Z was reached. Z… the common letter pertaining to sleep. He thought about Z’s… as if thinking about them could make them happen. No… it didn’t work. And thinking about filing led him to think about the piles of papers that lay on Jack’s desk. Jack never did his paperwork. And he had this uncanny habit lately of leaving the bed cold. Ianto wanted to reprimand him for that but he couldn’t. He looked crossly at Jack’s side of the bed. Which, he checked again, was unfailingly chilled. Looking crossly didn’t bring Jack back, but he could hope that wherever, whenever Jack was, he knew that Ianto was cross with him.
Stupid Doctor. Almost as stupid as Jack. Stupid Doctor who’d made the bed cold. Ianto decided that it was easier to blame the Doctor, the Doctor was never here. So blaming him was easy. If he blamed Jack, he’d have to think about the fact that Jack wasn’t here. And that just wouldn’t do. He had enough reminders of that already. What with the cold bed and all…
Ianto cautiously touched the sheets, after five minutes of forceably keeping his mind blank. Still empty. …always empty. No Jack, never a Jack. Not anymore…. Stupid Jack… Ianto missed him. Unconsciously he moved to the cold side of the bed to warm it up. Then… maybe it wouldn’t feel so empty … and so lonely.
Ianto’s side of the bed was cold… He sighed… not again…
The minutes passed…
Half of the bed stayed cold, despite Ianto’s attempts.
It was another long night.
stupid bed and it sbeing cold and without Josh. *looks crossly at bed*
At any rate. Again... my thoughts, his words. Because Ianto is much better with them then me.
Disclaimers: Jack belongs to Ianto. Forever. Both belong to their fans. Cause when we abuse them, we usually give them sex and coffee afterwards.
Rambling Thoughts of a Chilled Welshman
Ianto stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. He hated it when he couldn’t sleep. It made him cranky the next day. He hated being cranky too. He touched the other side of the bed.. it was cold. It was always cold nowadays.
Ianto couldn’t think. Actually that was a lie, he was thinking too much. This always happened when he couldn’t sleep.. he thought too much. Although, he’d also been told he thought too much when he was fully awake too. He sighed. That was nearly two full minutes of thinking about thinking. And if this is how it was going to be…
He tried to count the little blips on the ceiling. Stupid concrete ceiling. It was so … untidy. Why would anyone make a ceiling out of concrete. No, Jones… bad line of thought. Then you’re going to start wondering why anyone would make a bunker out of concrete… and then you’re just getting silly. It was messy though… Concrete was so not smooth. Coarse and rough and …. Ok really. Where was he going with all this? He should be sleeping, not thinking about the aesthetics of stoneware.
Sleep. Ianto closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep. It just wasn’t happening. Instinctively, his hand crept to the other side of the bed again. Still cold. He didn’t pause to wonder why he had thought it might be filled with warm Jack. That was a line of thinking that he really really didn’t want to inspect.
He turned over onto his right side. It felt weird. He didn’t sleep on his right side. Jack liked to be the protective one. To chase Ianto’s nightmares away. And Jack slept on the right side of the bed, so it didn’t work out all that well. Ianto checked again… still cold. No Jack yet.
He thought about filing. Paperwork and archiving. That’s what he did, right? And it was a rather tedius subject… Ianto enjoyed it though. It calmed him. He liked things in order. A followed by B followed by C, until Z was reached. Z… the common letter pertaining to sleep. He thought about Z’s… as if thinking about them could make them happen. No… it didn’t work. And thinking about filing led him to think about the piles of papers that lay on Jack’s desk. Jack never did his paperwork. And he had this uncanny habit lately of leaving the bed cold. Ianto wanted to reprimand him for that but he couldn’t. He looked crossly at Jack’s side of the bed. Which, he checked again, was unfailingly chilled. Looking crossly didn’t bring Jack back, but he could hope that wherever, whenever Jack was, he knew that Ianto was cross with him.
Stupid Doctor. Almost as stupid as Jack. Stupid Doctor who’d made the bed cold. Ianto decided that it was easier to blame the Doctor, the Doctor was never here. So blaming him was easy. If he blamed Jack, he’d have to think about the fact that Jack wasn’t here. And that just wouldn’t do. He had enough reminders of that already. What with the cold bed and all…
Ianto cautiously touched the sheets, after five minutes of forceably keeping his mind blank. Still empty. …always empty. No Jack, never a Jack. Not anymore…. Stupid Jack… Ianto missed him. Unconsciously he moved to the cold side of the bed to warm it up. Then… maybe it wouldn’t feel so empty … and so lonely.
Ianto’s side of the bed was cold… He sighed… not again…
The minutes passed…
Half of the bed stayed cold, despite Ianto’s attempts.
It was another long night.