Ianto was passed out on his bed. He had at one point been covered by a sheet, but he was restless, and he had kicked it down until it was twisted around his legs, exposing the undershirt and briefs he slept in. The change in light levels didn't wake him, but he did make a low grumbling noise and buried his face more fully in the bundle of wool in his arms, trying to block it out.
This was... unsettling to say the least. He was asleep. Jack hadn't thought a construct made form his own nightmares to distract him would sleep. The suit was gone. Jack had never seen the man from his dreams without it. The suit and the tie. Even when the dreams were in space, air slowly running out in the tanks strapped to their spacesuits, the three piece suit and tie was on underneath, just barely visible under the visor.
He was also holding... Jack spared a quick glance for the coat tree in the corner. It was empty. He was sleeping curled around the coat, both arms clinging to it, face buried in it. It was hard to be mad at that. He just looked so... so small. Small and so completely unlike what jack knew, what he remembered and recognized, what he dreamed about
( ... )
Some small part of Ianto's brain recognized that voice, the way it wrapped around his name, comforting and familiar. "Mmmm." He shifted slightly, angling his face toward Jack, and though his smile was hidden by the wool, the release of tension throughout his entire body was clear enough a signal without it.
Okay, that was... not helping his theory. Jack sat down on the edge of the bed very carefully. Careful was not usually a word that could be used to describe him, but he preferred careful to fury and the rage, or the emptiness. He was probably getting old. That would have made him laugh, once upon a time, he was sure. Not now, though.
The mattress dipped and he froze, but when Ianto's readings didn't fluctuate, he leaned down, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. What was the reason for this? What was the point in leaving a scene that did not play into any of Jack's fears? The messy hair, the rumpled undershirt, the... odd sense of vulnerability - these were not familiar things.
Jack reached out and pulled the coat away from Ianto's face, tugging at the wool until clutching hands stopped him from pulling it away any more. That cut, thin and faint and barely visible but for the angle of the light casting a faint but noticeable shadow. There had never been a cut in his dreams. Why a cut now?
The dip of the mattress was as familiar as the voice. Ianto relaxed even more, then released the coat entirely and reached out for Jack instead. The smile slowly slipped off his face when he found nothing next to him but empty space, and he made a small unhappy noise at the back of his throat.
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He was also holding... Jack spared a quick glance for the coat tree in the corner. It was empty. He was sleeping curled around the coat, both arms clinging to it, face buried in it. It was hard to be mad at that. He just looked so... so small. Small and so completely unlike what jack knew, what he remembered and recognized, what he dreamed about ( ... )
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The mattress dipped and he froze, but when Ianto's readings didn't fluctuate, he leaned down, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. What was the reason for this? What was the point in leaving a scene that did not play into any of Jack's fears? The messy hair, the rumpled undershirt, the... odd sense of vulnerability - these were not familiar things.
Jack reached out and pulled the coat away from Ianto's face, tugging at the wool until clutching hands stopped him from pulling it away any more. That cut, thin and faint and barely visible but for the angle of the light casting a faint but noticeable shadow. There had never been a cut in his dreams. Why a cut now?
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