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Linger - Part I

Title: Linger  Part I/X
Author: sariagray
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Word Count: 676
Spoilers: Post CoE.
Warnings: Some angst, but it is happy. CoE compliant.
Disclaimer: Torchwood belongs to people far better off than I.
Author’s Note: Was having a bad week. I know it's only Wednesday. Barely. Needed cheering. This was inspired by people's icons, which is what I get for reading a boatload of fanfic before bed. And listening to The Smith's "Last Night I Dreamt...." Unbeta'ed because I was too excited to post. *Shrug*

A/N 2: Here is some lovely artwork by thebuttonontop  that was inspired by the story! It's awesome and I thank her a thousand times! (Artwork)



Linger
Part I


     He was drunk. He had been drunk for…days, weeks, months. It wouldn’t last, he knew, more than a few moments longer. It would leave his system, as it always did, and he would search for more alcohol to fill his bloodstream. He figured if he drank enough, it would warm his frozen heart.
     Until then, he had to sleep.
     He hadn’t slept much since…but he wouldn’t follow that thought through. He attempted to remove his shirt, fingers fumbling over buttons that wouldn’t stay in one place. At least he could slide his braces off his shoulders.
     He collapsed on his cot and waited for the room to stop oscillating, which it was doing very wildly. His mind went to the song. Good. Stay there, he bid it. He closed his eyes and breathed deep.
     Stupid.
     The words popped into his head. Well, no, that wasn’t quite right. The feeling of affectionate disapproval popped into his head; his brain simply filled in the word. He sighed and tried to sit up.
     A weight pressed him back down, like hands on his chest.
     His eyes flew open and stared intently at…nothingness.
     Unnothingness fluttered through him.
     Not alone.
     He closed his eyes again, blaming the drink and ignoring the fact that this was something new. Insanity was not what he had hoped to spend his evening considering.
     Amusement.
     A touch, feather light, on his cheek.
     He leaned into it.
     Disappointment.
     Understanding.
     Sorrow.

     He barely had time to distinguish each as the emotions flooded him. He gasped and reached out hopefully, his hands grasping vainly at the air. His breathe was ragged and hopeful, his eyes still closed, afraid to acknowledge the empty room.
     Uncertainty.
     “It’s you,” he whispered. “It is you.”
     Approval.
     His body relaxed a little and a memory played behind his eyes in brief flashes. Laughter, a smile, a touch. Sunlight from a window. White sheets. Glowing skin. A kiss, soft and confident and lingering. A smell wafted towards him, registered in his brain, and shocked him to complete gaping stillness. The memory strengthened.
     “We could always go back to the Hub.” A smirk.
     “What, so Gwen can catch us again? I think you like being watched.”
     “Well, that’s where the coffee machine is.”
     “You have one here!”
     “Yes. One you know perfectly well how to use yourself.”
     “I can’t believe you trust me –“
     “Oh, I don’t. I just don’t want to get out of bed. I have every intention of pouring it out the window when you aren’t looking and then telling you how wonderful it was.”
     Laughter. A pillow hitting skin. Pounce. Fluttering kisses. Clinging.

     Jack tried to clutch the memory, but it was fading. Tendrils escaped his grasp like smoke through his fingers. The barrenness of reality, the darkness of his room, left him feeling weak; it was like being broken all over again. And then the emptiness receded.
     Reassurance.
     Encouragement.

     “Are you –” he murmured, the hope quaking in his voice. “Will you…stay?”
     He felt the same hope that plagued his vocal chords echo back. His mind mulled it over.
     Come back.
     “I haven’t – yes. I’m here.”
     Approval.
     “But…will you stay?”
     Here.
     Now.
     Always.

     He felt a familiar pressure at his side, a comfortable weight against his chest and shoulder. He felt lips pressed to his and, without thought, he welcomed the sensation with joy. As he gave in, he could feel the body solidify. His right eye opened cautiously, only a fraction, and saw nothing but a glimmer. But it was enough.



     He awoke with a start, a coldness surrounding him. His blanket. Where…? He looked to his left and laughed. There it was, bunched up around an invisible form.
     “Still stealing blankets. Some things never change.”
     Mirth.
     Joy.
     Reluctance.

     The blanket wound around him again and he felt the pressure and warmth of the body curling up with him. He wrapped his arm around him, and kissed the top of his head, without thought.
     Love.
     “I love you, too,” he whispered into the night.
 

 

Part II

Tags: fanfic, jack/ianto, torchwood
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