Another Path Chapter 6
Dec. 14th, 2012 11:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
galadriel1010Next story will probably not be up promptly, as I haven't even started writing it. I should get on with that...
Title: Another Path
Chapter Title: Chapter 6
Challenge/Fest: LongLiveIanto Bingo
Prompt: Bedtime Rituals
Rating: T
Dedication:
Summary: One decision, two possible outcomes. Taking the wrong path leads Ianto down a life he thought he'd lost.
Characters: Jack/Ianto, team, others.
Contains:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurrences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
University started back in late September, and Ianto had to hit the ground running between his lectures and his research work. He’d opted for an events management module, which had turned out to involve planning a small-scale event on top of everything else, and wasn’t coping with the commute as well as he’d hoped. The commute back was fine, though, just for having the flat to come back to.
Thursdays were his early finish day, and for once he had no meetings, no lunch plans and work that he could do at home rather than in the library, so he let the foul weather make his decision for him and hurried home on the bus. Jack wouldn’t be home for hours, whatever time work released him, so Ianto pottered around the kitchen and put a basic stew in the oven, made himself a cup of tea, and dumped all his notes and his laptop on the kitchen table, where he could turn up the heating and get on with his essay planning within easy reach of more tea and an entire box of Jaffa Cakes.
Hours later, when the kitchen smelled of tea and beef, the front door finally opened and Jack breezed in. Ianto left him to it and started tidying away his work whilst he hung up his coat, dumped his boots by the door and took whatever files he’d brought home through to his office. It was the same every day, and Ianto could almost time him. When the office door opened he got up and got the milk out of the fridge, and when Jack walked into the kitchen and wrapped himself around Ianto from behind he was just squirting cream on top of one of the mugs.
“I still don’t know how you can adulterate it like that,” Jack told him, turning him for a kiss before he picked up the mugs. “How was uni?”
“Interesting, actually, and not all that frustrating.” He kissed Jack once more and passed him a hot chocolate. “How was work?”
“Boring and very frustrating.” Jack wrapped his hands around the mug and took it over to the table, where he dropped into a chair with a groan. He curled over the mug, and dropped his head when Ianto trailed warm fingers over the back of his neck. “It was just one of those days,” he said at last. “Too long, but not enough time to get everything done.”
“At least it’s over,” Ianto pointed out, squeezing his shoulder gently. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
He nodded and went to get the stew out of the oven, and Jack dragged himself out of his chair to cut a couple of slices of bread. They ate in a companionable silence, dumped their bowls in the sink and dropped onto the sofa, with Ianto’s head in Jack’s lap, to wind down.
“I’m sorry I’m so...” Jack sighed and trailed his thumb oveer Ianto’s temple. “I can’t talk about anything, and it must drive you mad.”
“No, it’s alright, I understand.” He looked up at Jack and rubbed his arm, lacking anything else in reach. “You’ll have amazing stories to tell one day.”
“You’ll have a hell of a wait,” he grumbled, but he relaxed somewhat as well. “I wish I could tell you more, though. The stories I could tell you...” He trailed off and rested his cheek against the sofa cushions. “One day.”
# # #
An alarm went off on Ianto’s phone and he reached over for it to silence it. He ran his hand down Jack’s back, skimming over his arse, and smirked to himself. “We should get to sleep,” he murmured, ignoring Jack’s groan of displeasure. “You’re going to have to move.”
“Really?” He opened one eye and looked up at Ianto fondly, but didn’t move further. “Can’t move, brain has departed.”
Ianto grinned wickedly. “Can’t handle me, old man?”
Jack growled and finally rolled over so that he could sit up, stretched, and padded off to the bathroom. The shower started, and Ianto used the time to straighten the bed again, chuck his own discarded towel in the laundry basket, find a pair of jogging bottoms to sleep in and locate Jack’s discarded shirt. It took him long enough that Jack should have been nearly asleep (the shirt turned up in the kitchen, which Ianto wasn’t entirely sure about), but when he got back the room was still deserted, although the shower had stopped. He dropped the shirt in the washing basket and went to the door, which wasn’t even shut properly, let alone locked.
The bathroom was steamed up, but Jack had wiped a space on the mirror and was staring into it; at his own reflection or just into the distance, Ianto wasn’t sure. His shoulders were bowed low, and he didn’t notice Ianto enter for a long moment.
“Jack?” Ianto touched his shoulder gently, and drew his hand back when he startled. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, sorry.” He turned around and rested his hands on Ianto’s hips, smiling when Ianto rested his wrists on his shoulders. They swayed gently and Jack shook his head, like he was trying to clear it. “Just thinking too much.” His thumbs tucked into the waistband of Ianto’s trousers and his fingers traced the seam. “I was just wondering whether I’ll get called out again tonight - I really hope not.”
It was a fairly regular occurrence, and not surprising; it wasn’t like the secret services kept normal hours, even for their research staff. Ianto had got used to waking up to a cold bed, and he didn’t hold it against Jack. If anything, he held it against himself. He could have asked Jack to recommend him and got in just on his time at Torchwood, but he was unwilling to reveal that part of his life to Jack just yet, and he wasn’t ready to go back there. He combed his fingers through Jack’s wet hair. “Can you tell them you can’t come out as late or as often? You’re getting too old for all these nights.”
Jack smiled a bit at that, but shrugged it off wordlessly. He left Ianto to the bathroom, and Ianto hurried through washing with one ear on the quiet noises of Jack getting ready for bed. When he got back into the bedroom, he found Jack with his work alarm in his hands, staring at it with the same distant look that he’d had in the mirror. He leaned back into Ianto’s arms and put the alarm aside, but Ianto couldn’t do anything other than leave him to his thoughts.
# # #
The bed was empty when Ianto woke the next morning, and he dragged himself out of bed reluctantly. He just had an afternoon seminar, which had killed the long weekends they used to take, and no real reason to be up and about beyond the fact that he was hungry. Pulling his hoody on, he shuffled through into the living room and came to an abrupt stop when he saw Jack sitting, fully dressed, on the sofa, with his head in his hands.
“Jack?” He hurried over and crouched in front of him, resting his hands on his knees and rubbing them gently. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Jack caught his hand and smiled tightly. “I just... I can’t do this anymore.”
Ianto swallowed hard and waited for him, bringing Jack’s fingers to his lips and kissing them gently.
“I’ve told them that I’m quitting. They told me to take a day off to think about it, but I don’t need to think about it.” He gripped Ianto’s hand so hard it hurt, and stared deep into Ianto’s eyes. “I hate having to get up and leave you behind, not being able to tell you anything. I hate keeping secrets from you so much; I thought I understood what it was like for the others at work, but you’re so...” He shook his head and closed his eyes. “I can’t do that anymore. I won’t be able to tell you what I’ve done, but at least I’ll be able to talk to you at the end of the day!”
There wasn’t much he could say to that. It was clear that the decision had been a long time coming, and that Jack truly needed it, and Ianto wasn’t entirely surprised if he was honest. He worried for a moment about their financial situation and decided that they could figure that out as they went along. “How long is your notice period?”
Jack’s eyes flashed open and he sagged with relief. “It’s... Two months, I think? I’ve got to see my manager tomorrow and we’ll go over it then. But I’ll be free by Christmas.”
“Good.” Ianto cupped Jack’s face in his hands quickly and kissed him. “I think you needed it.”
“Ianto Jones. You always know what I need.” He returned Ianto’s kiss and took his hands again. “I need you, more than anything else. As long as I have you, I’ll be just fine.”
# # #
Two years had come and gone, the end of term was hurtling towards him, and an April shower had caught him between the bus and the flat. Ianto let himself into the flat and kicked his sodden trainers off onto the newspaper, then dumped his bag so that he could shed his coat and let it drip dry on the tiled floor. Jack’s office door was open, but there was no sign of him in there, so he dragged his bag through into the living room. There were two wine glasses and a bottle of grape spritzer on the coffee table, and Jack was sprawled on the sofa languidly. He made to move, but Ianto got there faster and flopped onto the sofa right on top of him. Laughing, Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto and pulled him down into an enthusiastic kiss.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, when Jack had released him and they’d caught their breath. “We finished a bit early, so we went for an executive meeting about our dissertations.”
Jack tutted, and tried to look hurt. “You should have called me, and I would have come and joined you.”
“Next time,” Ianto promised, kissing him again to wipe the pout off his face. “I thought you were supposed to be working, anyway?”
“I was working!” he protested. “I got loads done actually. Took a long walk down to the cathedral, got coffee in the tea room there... And I did do some actual work too.”
“Oh yeah?” Ianto said dubiously. He sat up so that he could see Jack and pour them drinks. “You’re an author, that’s not real work.”
“I wrote three thousand words on ‘New Cold War Spy Thriller’, actually, and I’ve written a treatment for Going Solo.” He shifted up as well and accepted a glass from Ianto. “I’m still waiting for Greg to call me back with a firm publication date, but he did say that was going to be soon.”
Ianto raised his glass to Jack and they clinked the rims together. Jack’s first novel, a gay romance murder mystery set in Cardiff’s Victorian docklands, had been a surprise hit - especially surprising as he’d knocked it out whilst he was still working his notice. It had been picked up a year later and published on a short run, which was then extended. Going Solo was his next offering, about a young man who got dragged into the secret service by accidentally seducing a Soviet spy... well, several Soviet spies, to be accurate. There was already interest into making it into a movie, but they didn’t actually expect it to go anywhere.
“And you said you’d had an idea for another?”
“Yeah. How’s this:” Jack splayed his fingers and held his hand out, as if stopping Ianto from speaking. “So it’s about a time traveller who runs cons, selling perfectly useless junk to other time travellers as the real deal - sort of like that grave mask they tried to sell us in Egypt - and he accidentally gets his hands on something that’s genuinely dangerous, and has to deal with it, avoid the time police, and avoid the people who want it back.”
Ianto considered it. “And he gets the guy?”
“Probably, but what do you think of the plot?”
“I don’t think it is a plot yet.” He leaned over and kissed Jack on the forehead. “It has potential, though, and you’ll find a plot fairly easily.”
“I did not sign up for a voice of reason,” Jack grumbled. “Anyway, how was uni?”
“Same old, really. I can’t believe it’s so nearly over, though.” He rested his arm on the back of the sofa and rested his cheek on his clenched fist. “It’s three and a half years since I lost my memories, you know. And now look at me: completely domesticated, nearly a graduate, probably employed...” Jack looked worried, so Ianto smiled reassuringly and raised his eyebrows. “I couldn’t even have hoped for this.”
“Are you happy?”
He laughed at the absurdity of the question. “Of course I’m happy. I have everything I never knew I wanted.” His smiled softened and he reached out for Jack’s hand. “I’m on the verge of a career I love, I’ve nearly finished a degree I’ve loved, and I get to come home every day to the man I love.”
Jack squeezed his hand. “I love you too.”
Even a year after he’d first heard it, his heart still swelled when Jack said he loved him. His heart still skipped a beat when he said it himself, and he hoped it wouldn’t change any time soon. He put his glass aside safely and got up, so that he could lean over Jack, trap him between his braced arms and kiss him. Their noses brushed together when he pulled away, and he sighed reluctantly. “I should get on with my dissertation.”
“No rest for the wicked,” Jack agreed. He let Ianto go and sat up properly.
Ianto ruffled his hair, scratching at the back of his head gently. “Early night tonight, though?” Jack leered and he sighed. “I don’t know why I bother asking. I have this way of knowing what you’re going to say.”
“You’re just irresistible, you know that.” He looked as contrite as he could manage. “And I am thinking of your early lecture tomorrow, as well.”
“It’s been cancelled,” Ianto told him. “To give us time to prepare for the exam.”
“Oh... lie in?”
He sighed. “I have an exam in that afternoon. Two weeks and I’ll be all yours. Almost all yours... Well, mostly my dissertation’s, but after that I’m all yours.”
Jack growled. “You’re lucky you’re worth waiting for, Jones.” He stood up and wrapped his arms around Ianto’s waist before he could get to his bag and his laptop. “You know you are, though, don’t you?”
“I do.” Ianto kissed him, again, and swayed in his arms. “And you know that you’ve had me for a long time, don’t you? No more waiting.”
Title: Another Path
Chapter Title: Chapter 6
Challenge/Fest: LongLiveIanto Bingo
Prompt: Bedtime Rituals
Rating: T
Dedication:
Summary: One decision, two possible outcomes. Taking the wrong path leads Ianto down a life he thought he'd lost.
Characters: Jack/Ianto, team, others.
Contains:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurrences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
University started back in late September, and Ianto had to hit the ground running between his lectures and his research work. He’d opted for an events management module, which had turned out to involve planning a small-scale event on top of everything else, and wasn’t coping with the commute as well as he’d hoped. The commute back was fine, though, just for having the flat to come back to.
Thursdays were his early finish day, and for once he had no meetings, no lunch plans and work that he could do at home rather than in the library, so he let the foul weather make his decision for him and hurried home on the bus. Jack wouldn’t be home for hours, whatever time work released him, so Ianto pottered around the kitchen and put a basic stew in the oven, made himself a cup of tea, and dumped all his notes and his laptop on the kitchen table, where he could turn up the heating and get on with his essay planning within easy reach of more tea and an entire box of Jaffa Cakes.
Hours later, when the kitchen smelled of tea and beef, the front door finally opened and Jack breezed in. Ianto left him to it and started tidying away his work whilst he hung up his coat, dumped his boots by the door and took whatever files he’d brought home through to his office. It was the same every day, and Ianto could almost time him. When the office door opened he got up and got the milk out of the fridge, and when Jack walked into the kitchen and wrapped himself around Ianto from behind he was just squirting cream on top of one of the mugs.
“I still don’t know how you can adulterate it like that,” Jack told him, turning him for a kiss before he picked up the mugs. “How was uni?”
“Interesting, actually, and not all that frustrating.” He kissed Jack once more and passed him a hot chocolate. “How was work?”
“Boring and very frustrating.” Jack wrapped his hands around the mug and took it over to the table, where he dropped into a chair with a groan. He curled over the mug, and dropped his head when Ianto trailed warm fingers over the back of his neck. “It was just one of those days,” he said at last. “Too long, but not enough time to get everything done.”
“At least it’s over,” Ianto pointed out, squeezing his shoulder gently. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
He nodded and went to get the stew out of the oven, and Jack dragged himself out of his chair to cut a couple of slices of bread. They ate in a companionable silence, dumped their bowls in the sink and dropped onto the sofa, with Ianto’s head in Jack’s lap, to wind down.
“I’m sorry I’m so...” Jack sighed and trailed his thumb oveer Ianto’s temple. “I can’t talk about anything, and it must drive you mad.”
“No, it’s alright, I understand.” He looked up at Jack and rubbed his arm, lacking anything else in reach. “You’ll have amazing stories to tell one day.”
“You’ll have a hell of a wait,” he grumbled, but he relaxed somewhat as well. “I wish I could tell you more, though. The stories I could tell you...” He trailed off and rested his cheek against the sofa cushions. “One day.”
# # #
An alarm went off on Ianto’s phone and he reached over for it to silence it. He ran his hand down Jack’s back, skimming over his arse, and smirked to himself. “We should get to sleep,” he murmured, ignoring Jack’s groan of displeasure. “You’re going to have to move.”
“Really?” He opened one eye and looked up at Ianto fondly, but didn’t move further. “Can’t move, brain has departed.”
Ianto grinned wickedly. “Can’t handle me, old man?”
Jack growled and finally rolled over so that he could sit up, stretched, and padded off to the bathroom. The shower started, and Ianto used the time to straighten the bed again, chuck his own discarded towel in the laundry basket, find a pair of jogging bottoms to sleep in and locate Jack’s discarded shirt. It took him long enough that Jack should have been nearly asleep (the shirt turned up in the kitchen, which Ianto wasn’t entirely sure about), but when he got back the room was still deserted, although the shower had stopped. He dropped the shirt in the washing basket and went to the door, which wasn’t even shut properly, let alone locked.
The bathroom was steamed up, but Jack had wiped a space on the mirror and was staring into it; at his own reflection or just into the distance, Ianto wasn’t sure. His shoulders were bowed low, and he didn’t notice Ianto enter for a long moment.
“Jack?” Ianto touched his shoulder gently, and drew his hand back when he startled. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, sorry.” He turned around and rested his hands on Ianto’s hips, smiling when Ianto rested his wrists on his shoulders. They swayed gently and Jack shook his head, like he was trying to clear it. “Just thinking too much.” His thumbs tucked into the waistband of Ianto’s trousers and his fingers traced the seam. “I was just wondering whether I’ll get called out again tonight - I really hope not.”
It was a fairly regular occurrence, and not surprising; it wasn’t like the secret services kept normal hours, even for their research staff. Ianto had got used to waking up to a cold bed, and he didn’t hold it against Jack. If anything, he held it against himself. He could have asked Jack to recommend him and got in just on his time at Torchwood, but he was unwilling to reveal that part of his life to Jack just yet, and he wasn’t ready to go back there. He combed his fingers through Jack’s wet hair. “Can you tell them you can’t come out as late or as often? You’re getting too old for all these nights.”
Jack smiled a bit at that, but shrugged it off wordlessly. He left Ianto to the bathroom, and Ianto hurried through washing with one ear on the quiet noises of Jack getting ready for bed. When he got back into the bedroom, he found Jack with his work alarm in his hands, staring at it with the same distant look that he’d had in the mirror. He leaned back into Ianto’s arms and put the alarm aside, but Ianto couldn’t do anything other than leave him to his thoughts.
# # #
The bed was empty when Ianto woke the next morning, and he dragged himself out of bed reluctantly. He just had an afternoon seminar, which had killed the long weekends they used to take, and no real reason to be up and about beyond the fact that he was hungry. Pulling his hoody on, he shuffled through into the living room and came to an abrupt stop when he saw Jack sitting, fully dressed, on the sofa, with his head in his hands.
“Jack?” He hurried over and crouched in front of him, resting his hands on his knees and rubbing them gently. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Jack caught his hand and smiled tightly. “I just... I can’t do this anymore.”
Ianto swallowed hard and waited for him, bringing Jack’s fingers to his lips and kissing them gently.
“I’ve told them that I’m quitting. They told me to take a day off to think about it, but I don’t need to think about it.” He gripped Ianto’s hand so hard it hurt, and stared deep into Ianto’s eyes. “I hate having to get up and leave you behind, not being able to tell you anything. I hate keeping secrets from you so much; I thought I understood what it was like for the others at work, but you’re so...” He shook his head and closed his eyes. “I can’t do that anymore. I won’t be able to tell you what I’ve done, but at least I’ll be able to talk to you at the end of the day!”
There wasn’t much he could say to that. It was clear that the decision had been a long time coming, and that Jack truly needed it, and Ianto wasn’t entirely surprised if he was honest. He worried for a moment about their financial situation and decided that they could figure that out as they went along. “How long is your notice period?”
Jack’s eyes flashed open and he sagged with relief. “It’s... Two months, I think? I’ve got to see my manager tomorrow and we’ll go over it then. But I’ll be free by Christmas.”
“Good.” Ianto cupped Jack’s face in his hands quickly and kissed him. “I think you needed it.”
“Ianto Jones. You always know what I need.” He returned Ianto’s kiss and took his hands again. “I need you, more than anything else. As long as I have you, I’ll be just fine.”
# # #
Two years had come and gone, the end of term was hurtling towards him, and an April shower had caught him between the bus and the flat. Ianto let himself into the flat and kicked his sodden trainers off onto the newspaper, then dumped his bag so that he could shed his coat and let it drip dry on the tiled floor. Jack’s office door was open, but there was no sign of him in there, so he dragged his bag through into the living room. There were two wine glasses and a bottle of grape spritzer on the coffee table, and Jack was sprawled on the sofa languidly. He made to move, but Ianto got there faster and flopped onto the sofa right on top of him. Laughing, Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto and pulled him down into an enthusiastic kiss.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, when Jack had released him and they’d caught their breath. “We finished a bit early, so we went for an executive meeting about our dissertations.”
Jack tutted, and tried to look hurt. “You should have called me, and I would have come and joined you.”
“Next time,” Ianto promised, kissing him again to wipe the pout off his face. “I thought you were supposed to be working, anyway?”
“I was working!” he protested. “I got loads done actually. Took a long walk down to the cathedral, got coffee in the tea room there... And I did do some actual work too.”
“Oh yeah?” Ianto said dubiously. He sat up so that he could see Jack and pour them drinks. “You’re an author, that’s not real work.”
“I wrote three thousand words on ‘New Cold War Spy Thriller’, actually, and I’ve written a treatment for Going Solo.” He shifted up as well and accepted a glass from Ianto. “I’m still waiting for Greg to call me back with a firm publication date, but he did say that was going to be soon.”
Ianto raised his glass to Jack and they clinked the rims together. Jack’s first novel, a gay romance murder mystery set in Cardiff’s Victorian docklands, had been a surprise hit - especially surprising as he’d knocked it out whilst he was still working his notice. It had been picked up a year later and published on a short run, which was then extended. Going Solo was his next offering, about a young man who got dragged into the secret service by accidentally seducing a Soviet spy... well, several Soviet spies, to be accurate. There was already interest into making it into a movie, but they didn’t actually expect it to go anywhere.
“And you said you’d had an idea for another?”
“Yeah. How’s this:” Jack splayed his fingers and held his hand out, as if stopping Ianto from speaking. “So it’s about a time traveller who runs cons, selling perfectly useless junk to other time travellers as the real deal - sort of like that grave mask they tried to sell us in Egypt - and he accidentally gets his hands on something that’s genuinely dangerous, and has to deal with it, avoid the time police, and avoid the people who want it back.”
Ianto considered it. “And he gets the guy?”
“Probably, but what do you think of the plot?”
“I don’t think it is a plot yet.” He leaned over and kissed Jack on the forehead. “It has potential, though, and you’ll find a plot fairly easily.”
“I did not sign up for a voice of reason,” Jack grumbled. “Anyway, how was uni?”
“Same old, really. I can’t believe it’s so nearly over, though.” He rested his arm on the back of the sofa and rested his cheek on his clenched fist. “It’s three and a half years since I lost my memories, you know. And now look at me: completely domesticated, nearly a graduate, probably employed...” Jack looked worried, so Ianto smiled reassuringly and raised his eyebrows. “I couldn’t even have hoped for this.”
“Are you happy?”
He laughed at the absurdity of the question. “Of course I’m happy. I have everything I never knew I wanted.” His smiled softened and he reached out for Jack’s hand. “I’m on the verge of a career I love, I’ve nearly finished a degree I’ve loved, and I get to come home every day to the man I love.”
Jack squeezed his hand. “I love you too.”
Even a year after he’d first heard it, his heart still swelled when Jack said he loved him. His heart still skipped a beat when he said it himself, and he hoped it wouldn’t change any time soon. He put his glass aside safely and got up, so that he could lean over Jack, trap him between his braced arms and kiss him. Their noses brushed together when he pulled away, and he sighed reluctantly. “I should get on with my dissertation.”
“No rest for the wicked,” Jack agreed. He let Ianto go and sat up properly.
Ianto ruffled his hair, scratching at the back of his head gently. “Early night tonight, though?” Jack leered and he sighed. “I don’t know why I bother asking. I have this way of knowing what you’re going to say.”
“You’re just irresistible, you know that.” He looked as contrite as he could manage. “And I am thinking of your early lecture tomorrow, as well.”
“It’s been cancelled,” Ianto told him. “To give us time to prepare for the exam.”
“Oh... lie in?”
He sighed. “I have an exam in that afternoon. Two weeks and I’ll be all yours. Almost all yours... Well, mostly my dissertation’s, but after that I’m all yours.”
Jack growled. “You’re lucky you’re worth waiting for, Jones.” He stood up and wrapped his arms around Ianto’s waist before he could get to his bag and his laptop. “You know you are, though, don’t you?”
“I do.” Ianto kissed him, again, and swayed in his arms. “And you know that you’ve had me for a long time, don’t you? No more waiting.”
