Oneshot: In Sickness and in Health
Dec. 29th, 2010 06:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
galadriel1010Title: In Sickness and in Health
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Schmoop
Rating: G
Era: 2010s, ish?
Series: Schmoop 'verse
Summary: It's Ianto's turn to take care of Jack
Contains: Poorly Jack, caring Ianto. Schmoop_bingo prompt: Cuddling whilst sick
Dedication: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
littleni who requested it. Told you she was being an awesome cheerleader.
Beta:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurrences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
Ianto let himself into the room as quietly as he could and closed the door behind himself, shutting out the light. An aromatherapy candle cast enough light for him to find his way to the bed and to see the huddled form of his husband under a pile of duvets. “Hey,” he rested his hand on the top of the pile. “How are you feeling?”
“Rough,” Jack confessed, voice barely audible. “Want to die.”
“If you think it would help...” Ianto knelt down on the floor next to the bed and pulled some of the duvets back. “I would...”
“No.” Jack's hand darted out and gripped Ianto's, ice cold where it would normally be warm, and shaking. “Been too long since I last did,” he chuckled and reined in a coughing fit. “Don't want to get back into the habit.”
“Okay.” Ianto pulled more of the duvets back so that he could stroke his fingers through Jack's hair. It clung to his fingers with the cold sweat that had drenched it, and Jack closed his eyes and tipped his head into the gesture, like a cat being petted. “What do you want?”
“To get better?” Jack coughed and Ianto leaned forwards, finding his back under the pile to rub it soothingly. “I hate this.”
“I know you do, sweetheart,” Ianto told him. He kept rubbing and felt Jack shuffle towards him. “You'll get through it.”
Jack nodded and shifted again so that he could reach out and pat the bed. “Bed?”
Ianto hesitated. “Jack...”
“Please?” Jack asked, and his eyes, hot with fever and pleading, broke through Ianto's already flimsy defences. “Want a hug.”
Ianto nodded and straightened up, pulling off his suit and shirt and dropping them over a chair to clean up later, then crawled up the other side of the bed and laid down, pulling the pile of duvets and Jack into his arms. It took a while for them to get settled, Jack burrowing through his pile of blankets to get skin-to-skin contact in a position that didn't make him cough constantly, reaching out with cold hands to grab hold of Ianto and never let go. Ianto let him, remembering every time that Jack had held him through the night after an injury, or with the flu, or when it was something as simple as exhaustion and insomnia combining. Jack was always there for him, and he was there for Jack. That was what marriage was about. It just so happened that one half of this marriage was a lot more susceptible to needing medical attention than the other.
Jack rested his head on Ianto's upper arm and curled his hand around his other shoulder, clinging on like a small child. He smiled when Ianto craned his neck to be able to kiss his forehead and closed his eyes. “Thank you.”
“Always, Jack,” he swallowed hard and tightened his hold, hooking one leg over Jack's as well. “I'll be here. I'll always be here.”
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Schmoop
Rating: G
Era: 2010s, ish?
Series: Schmoop 'verse
Summary: It's Ianto's turn to take care of Jack
Contains: Poorly Jack, caring Ianto. Schmoop_bingo prompt: Cuddling whilst sick
Dedication: For
littleni who requested it. Told you she was being an awesome cheerleader. Beta:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurrences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
Ianto let himself into the room as quietly as he could and closed the door behind himself, shutting out the light. An aromatherapy candle cast enough light for him to find his way to the bed and to see the huddled form of his husband under a pile of duvets. “Hey,” he rested his hand on the top of the pile. “How are you feeling?”
“Rough,” Jack confessed, voice barely audible. “Want to die.”
“If you think it would help...” Ianto knelt down on the floor next to the bed and pulled some of the duvets back. “I would...”
“No.” Jack's hand darted out and gripped Ianto's, ice cold where it would normally be warm, and shaking. “Been too long since I last did,” he chuckled and reined in a coughing fit. “Don't want to get back into the habit.”
“Okay.” Ianto pulled more of the duvets back so that he could stroke his fingers through Jack's hair. It clung to his fingers with the cold sweat that had drenched it, and Jack closed his eyes and tipped his head into the gesture, like a cat being petted. “What do you want?”
“To get better?” Jack coughed and Ianto leaned forwards, finding his back under the pile to rub it soothingly. “I hate this.”
“I know you do, sweetheart,” Ianto told him. He kept rubbing and felt Jack shuffle towards him. “You'll get through it.”
Jack nodded and shifted again so that he could reach out and pat the bed. “Bed?”
Ianto hesitated. “Jack...”
“Please?” Jack asked, and his eyes, hot with fever and pleading, broke through Ianto's already flimsy defences. “Want a hug.”
Ianto nodded and straightened up, pulling off his suit and shirt and dropping them over a chair to clean up later, then crawled up the other side of the bed and laid down, pulling the pile of duvets and Jack into his arms. It took a while for them to get settled, Jack burrowing through his pile of blankets to get skin-to-skin contact in a position that didn't make him cough constantly, reaching out with cold hands to grab hold of Ianto and never let go. Ianto let him, remembering every time that Jack had held him through the night after an injury, or with the flu, or when it was something as simple as exhaustion and insomnia combining. Jack was always there for him, and he was there for Jack. That was what marriage was about. It just so happened that one half of this marriage was a lot more susceptible to needing medical attention than the other.
Jack rested his head on Ianto's upper arm and curled his hand around his other shoulder, clinging on like a small child. He smiled when Ianto craned his neck to be able to kiss his forehead and closed his eyes. “Thank you.”
“Always, Jack,” he swallowed hard and tightened his hold, hooking one leg over Jack's as well. “I'll be here. I'll always be here.”
