Oneshot: Making Memories
Oct. 25th, 2010 10:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
galadriel1010Title: Making Memories
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: G
Era: Series 2
Series: Schmoop 'verse
Summary: Ianto wonders what he'll leave Jack with once he's gone. Schmoop_Bingo prompt: memories
Contains: Discussion of death, made up words
Dedication:
Beta:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
Ianto slid his diary back into its space on the bookcase and ran his finger along the spine thoughtfully. Behind him, Jack was sitting up in bed with the covers draped almost artistically around his hips – assuming, of course, that you accepted pornography as an art form. His hair was rumpled and springy from not having been brushed after his shower, and he appeared to be utterly absorbed by the trashy detective novel he'd picked up on their jamble earlier.
He looked over his shoulder and smiled at Jack's look of quiet concentration. They were developing their own language, a blend of Welsh, English, random foreign words and a few they'd made up between them. 'Jamble' had been one of Jack's, and meant a raid on the cluttered antique and bric-a-brac shops around Cardiff and the surrounding area for anything that had come through the Rift and found its way into someone's collection of shiny things.
“Do you think you'll keep using our language when I'm gone?” he asked quietly when Jack looked up at him questioningly.
Sighing, Jack put his bookmark in and lifted the duvet on Ianto's side. “I don't know,” he admitted when Ianto was settled under the duvet, hands folded in his lap. “I hope so.”
Ianto removed Jack's book from his hands and set it down on Jack's bedside table, then kissed Jack's cheek and lay down, folding his arm under his head to improve the angle to look up at Jack. “You'll have entire planets speaking it eventually,” he said at last.
Jack laughed and squirmed down into bed, mirroring Ianto's position and watching him with fond sadness. One hand rested on Ianto's hip, rubbing the bare skin above the waistband of his boxers slowly. “They say that a man is never dead as long as his name is spoken. I guess it's my way of keeping you around.”
“You'll have my ghost haunting you,” Ianto touched his fingertips to Jack's chest and watched them dimple the skin when he pressed gently. “Would you really want that?”
“Yeah,” Jack sighed and brought his hand up to hold Ianto's against his heart, lacing their fingers together and pressing down so that Ianto could feel his heartbeat, always slightly slower than Ianto's own. “I'm surrounded by ghosts anyway. At least yours will be scary enough to chase the rest off.”
Ianto laughed and tugged his hand free, sliding it up and around the back of Jack's neck and shifting closer, guided by Jack's hand back on his hip. “I don't know if I believe in ghosts,” he mused, trailing his gaze up to Jack's eyes. “But if anyone can create them, you can.”
“I don't want you to become just a memory,” Jack whispered. “I'm tired of being alone.”
“Jack...” Ianto's heart broke and he pressed forwards again, brushing kisses across Jack's cheek and finally meeting his lips. He closed his fingers gently in Jack's hair and held him in position for a deep, slow kiss, enjoying the feeling of Jack's free hand stroking and grabbing at his back. Eventually he released Jack's hair and flattened his palm against his chest instead, stretching out on top of him and letting them both retrieve their other arms and put them to good use, holding onto each other tightly with a bit of groping thrown in for good measure.
Ianto broke the kiss for breath and nuzzled along Jack's jaw to his ear. “They tell children that the people we love never really leave us.”
Jack's arms tightened around him. “I could do with a bit of childish reassurance.”
Smiling sadly, Ianto pulled back and planted one palm flat on Jack's chest. “As long as you remember me in here, as long as you can hear my voice when you need to, I'll still be here.”
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: G
Era: Series 2
Series: Schmoop 'verse
Summary: Ianto wonders what he'll leave Jack with once he's gone. Schmoop_Bingo prompt: memories
Contains: Discussion of death, made up words
Dedication:
Beta:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
Ianto slid his diary back into its space on the bookcase and ran his finger along the spine thoughtfully. Behind him, Jack was sitting up in bed with the covers draped almost artistically around his hips – assuming, of course, that you accepted pornography as an art form. His hair was rumpled and springy from not having been brushed after his shower, and he appeared to be utterly absorbed by the trashy detective novel he'd picked up on their jamble earlier.
He looked over his shoulder and smiled at Jack's look of quiet concentration. They were developing their own language, a blend of Welsh, English, random foreign words and a few they'd made up between them. 'Jamble' had been one of Jack's, and meant a raid on the cluttered antique and bric-a-brac shops around Cardiff and the surrounding area for anything that had come through the Rift and found its way into someone's collection of shiny things.
“Do you think you'll keep using our language when I'm gone?” he asked quietly when Jack looked up at him questioningly.
Sighing, Jack put his bookmark in and lifted the duvet on Ianto's side. “I don't know,” he admitted when Ianto was settled under the duvet, hands folded in his lap. “I hope so.”
Ianto removed Jack's book from his hands and set it down on Jack's bedside table, then kissed Jack's cheek and lay down, folding his arm under his head to improve the angle to look up at Jack. “You'll have entire planets speaking it eventually,” he said at last.
Jack laughed and squirmed down into bed, mirroring Ianto's position and watching him with fond sadness. One hand rested on Ianto's hip, rubbing the bare skin above the waistband of his boxers slowly. “They say that a man is never dead as long as his name is spoken. I guess it's my way of keeping you around.”
“You'll have my ghost haunting you,” Ianto touched his fingertips to Jack's chest and watched them dimple the skin when he pressed gently. “Would you really want that?”
“Yeah,” Jack sighed and brought his hand up to hold Ianto's against his heart, lacing their fingers together and pressing down so that Ianto could feel his heartbeat, always slightly slower than Ianto's own. “I'm surrounded by ghosts anyway. At least yours will be scary enough to chase the rest off.”
Ianto laughed and tugged his hand free, sliding it up and around the back of Jack's neck and shifting closer, guided by Jack's hand back on his hip. “I don't know if I believe in ghosts,” he mused, trailing his gaze up to Jack's eyes. “But if anyone can create them, you can.”
“I don't want you to become just a memory,” Jack whispered. “I'm tired of being alone.”
“Jack...” Ianto's heart broke and he pressed forwards again, brushing kisses across Jack's cheek and finally meeting his lips. He closed his fingers gently in Jack's hair and held him in position for a deep, slow kiss, enjoying the feeling of Jack's free hand stroking and grabbing at his back. Eventually he released Jack's hair and flattened his palm against his chest instead, stretching out on top of him and letting them both retrieve their other arms and put them to good use, holding onto each other tightly with a bit of groping thrown in for good measure.
Ianto broke the kiss for breath and nuzzled along Jack's jaw to his ear. “They tell children that the people we love never really leave us.”
Jack's arms tightened around him. “I could do with a bit of childish reassurance.”
Smiling sadly, Ianto pulled back and planted one palm flat on Jack's chest. “As long as you remember me in here, as long as you can hear my voice when you need to, I'll still be here.”
