Love Is A Game 5: Minor Injury
Sep. 20th, 2010 08:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
galadriel1010Title: Minor Injury
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Rating: G
Era: Early Series 2
Series: Love Is A Game
Summary: Ianto is injured on what should have been their date night
Contains:
Dedication:
Beta:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurrences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
Ianto felt like shit. It was to be expected, Owen had assured him unnecessarily; colliding with the wall had given him a bruise the size of the moon, which he was currently applying ice to, nausea, dizzy vision and short term memory loss, and Owen had congratulated him on getting almost all of the symptoms of concussion in one go. Oh, and a headache that could have wiped out the population of Wales.
The light switched on and he screwed his eyes tight shut, pulling the duvet over his head and whimpering softly. He was too tired and grumpy to fight the duvet being tugged down, though, and turned his face into the sofa as gentle fingers combed through his hair. “Ianto, come on out of there,” Jack urged him in a whisper. “I need to take the ice away.”
“Can't move,” he whined, turning his head even further to let Jack comb through his hair better, brushing his nose against the wet towel that held the bag of ice. “Head hurts.”
“I know it does, but you're going to freeze to the sofa if we don't move that ice,” Jack teased, sliding his hand down to cup Ianto's cheek in gentle fingers and lift his head off the ice. “And the sofa will get wet.”
Ianto nuzzled his cheek into Jack's hand, a stark contrast against the cold of the ice, and moaned again. His head hurt so much, he felt like he was going to die, and he told Jack so.
“You're not going to die,” Jack told him, without any of the worry that Ianto thought was appropriate when one's... whatever they were to each other, and weren't they supposed to be on a date tonight? Well, Jack wasn't sufficiently worried that Ianto might die instead of getting their date. He used his hand under Ianto's cheek, and his other lifting his shoulders, to help him sit up just enough to sit down in the wet patch and lay Ianto back down with his head in Jack's lap and Jack's fingers running through his hair gently. “There, isn't that better?”
“Better,” Ianto agreed thickly, turning his head so that his face pressed into Jack's stomach and his bruise was free from any constriction or pressure.
Jack's fingers brushed over it gently, but still enough to hurt, and he hissed. “Sorry, sorry,” Jack apologised, going back to stroking his hair. “My poor baby, you really don't cope well with concussion, do you?”
Ianto tried to growl, but it came out as more of a groan. “Shut up and let me die,” he whined.
“You are not going to die, Ianto Jones,” Jack insisted firmly, and too loudly for Ianto's liking. He lowered his voice and resumed stroking. “You're not allowed to die until we've had our date.”
“I'm sorry, Jack,” he whispered, nuzzling his stomach as it was all he could reach.
“Not your fault,” Jack soothed him and started rubbing at his shoulders. “You did well today.”
“I got thrown into a brick wall, apparently,” he shook his head disbelievingly.
“You did, and you scared me. I'm rather attached to you, Ianto Jones,” his voice was as gentle as his hands on Ianto's head and shoulders, unwinding the tension and soreness. “But you were good out there. Ah, I'm getting too old for this.”
Ianto pulled back a little to look up at Jack. “Not old.”
“I am, I'm very old,” he resumed his gentle rubbing and sighed. “You lot, you're going to drive me into an early grave.”
Ianto snorted and laid his head back in Jack's lap, regretting his amusement. He let himself drift off, with Jack's hands soothing his hurts and Jack's warmth keeping him safe.
Next chapter
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Rating: G
Era: Early Series 2
Series: Love Is A Game
Summary: Ianto is injured on what should have been their date night
Contains:
Dedication:
Beta:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurrences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
Ianto felt like shit. It was to be expected, Owen had assured him unnecessarily; colliding with the wall had given him a bruise the size of the moon, which he was currently applying ice to, nausea, dizzy vision and short term memory loss, and Owen had congratulated him on getting almost all of the symptoms of concussion in one go. Oh, and a headache that could have wiped out the population of Wales.
The light switched on and he screwed his eyes tight shut, pulling the duvet over his head and whimpering softly. He was too tired and grumpy to fight the duvet being tugged down, though, and turned his face into the sofa as gentle fingers combed through his hair. “Ianto, come on out of there,” Jack urged him in a whisper. “I need to take the ice away.”
“Can't move,” he whined, turning his head even further to let Jack comb through his hair better, brushing his nose against the wet towel that held the bag of ice. “Head hurts.”
“I know it does, but you're going to freeze to the sofa if we don't move that ice,” Jack teased, sliding his hand down to cup Ianto's cheek in gentle fingers and lift his head off the ice. “And the sofa will get wet.”
Ianto nuzzled his cheek into Jack's hand, a stark contrast against the cold of the ice, and moaned again. His head hurt so much, he felt like he was going to die, and he told Jack so.
“You're not going to die,” Jack told him, without any of the worry that Ianto thought was appropriate when one's... whatever they were to each other, and weren't they supposed to be on a date tonight? Well, Jack wasn't sufficiently worried that Ianto might die instead of getting their date. He used his hand under Ianto's cheek, and his other lifting his shoulders, to help him sit up just enough to sit down in the wet patch and lay Ianto back down with his head in Jack's lap and Jack's fingers running through his hair gently. “There, isn't that better?”
“Better,” Ianto agreed thickly, turning his head so that his face pressed into Jack's stomach and his bruise was free from any constriction or pressure.
Jack's fingers brushed over it gently, but still enough to hurt, and he hissed. “Sorry, sorry,” Jack apologised, going back to stroking his hair. “My poor baby, you really don't cope well with concussion, do you?”
Ianto tried to growl, but it came out as more of a groan. “Shut up and let me die,” he whined.
“You are not going to die, Ianto Jones,” Jack insisted firmly, and too loudly for Ianto's liking. He lowered his voice and resumed stroking. “You're not allowed to die until we've had our date.”
“I'm sorry, Jack,” he whispered, nuzzling his stomach as it was all he could reach.
“Not your fault,” Jack soothed him and started rubbing at his shoulders. “You did well today.”
“I got thrown into a brick wall, apparently,” he shook his head disbelievingly.
“You did, and you scared me. I'm rather attached to you, Ianto Jones,” his voice was as gentle as his hands on Ianto's head and shoulders, unwinding the tension and soreness. “But you were good out there. Ah, I'm getting too old for this.”
Ianto pulled back a little to look up at Jack. “Not old.”
“I am, I'm very old,” he resumed his gentle rubbing and sighed. “You lot, you're going to drive me into an early grave.”
Ianto snorted and laid his head back in Jack's lap, regretting his amusement. He let himself drift off, with Jack's hands soothing his hurts and Jack's warmth keeping him safe.
Next chapter
