Torchwood IMs: Apologish
Jul. 22nd, 2009 09:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a_silver_storyTitle: Apologish
Chapter: 57
Characters: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, Gwen Cooper, Rhys Williams
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
a_silver_story
Genre Humour, a touch of angst.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: M.M implied, cussing
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know.
Summary: Ianto has some apologising to do. Ish. There's a smidged of YTNW angst, too.
FIRST PART | Ianto and Gwen's IM's
PREVIOUS | Torchwood Index/Masterlist
57 |
Jack and Ianto were lying in their four poster, Ianto fast asleep and Jack watching him. It sometimes made him feel old to look at Ianto. The corners of his eyes were barely wrinkled, his Gaelic skin soft and warm to touch, his hair thick and glossy. Jack wondered if his own now weathered body ever looked old to Ianto. Did his skin feel leathery under those soft fingers? Were his hands calloused and grating on his warm thighs? Did those pale blue eyes see smile lines and crows’ feet around Jack’s equal pair?
Jack slipped from beneath the covers and crept over to the floor-to-ceiling mirror near the bath end of the den. ‘You look tired, Jacky.’ said the internal voice Jack was beginning to worry about. Had it always been there? Was he going mad in his old age? He gazed at his reflection, pulling the skin around his eye taught. Was it sagging, or was he paranoid? Had he always been able to pull it so far?
Wandering back over to Ianto, Jack reached out and touched his face. “Twenty-five,” he breathed. “Still a baby.”
He was suddenly overtaken with the urge to bury his head in Ianto's hair and weep. He climbed on to the bed behind him and let the tears silently flow. His mind wandered back to the Valiant: the Master; the Torture; the Death ... and Ianto. The Mater and Ianto. That year may never have Been, but for Jack it still Happened. Clutching Ianto – definitely breathing, alive and safe in his arms again – clutching Ianto tighter, he felt a sob wrack his body and Ianto stirred. Jack held his breath, praying he would settle again.
He did, and Jack kissed his hair, damp and salty from his emotional outbreak. Just thinking of it, tears welled up and spilled again, and Jack inhaled the scent of coffee, sweat, sex and nicotine. Jack felt a stab of annoyance at the latter, having asked him to quit or at least tell Jack when he smoked and how much. He calmed himself, considered it and realised Ianto probably picked up the scent at the party.
The Captain peeled himself from Ianto and located the brown Indianto Jones jacket. He stuck his hand in the pockets. PDA, phone, stolen Haribo, car keys and the cigarette case. Jack flicked it open. Same number as last time. He closed it and put it back, and began replacing Ianto's other belongings.
“What are you doing?” asked a grizzled, sleepy and not the least bit annoyed voice from the bed.
“Trying to see if Gwen’s coming after us.” lied Jack, nodding at the PDA in his hand. Feeling guilty, he somehow managed to turn to Ianto and smile. He was tousled and a little flushed, with love bites littering his chest and stomach. Some of them were old, some of them were fresh. Jack’s smile faltered at the concerned frown that met him.
“You’ve been crying.” stated Ianto, averting his gaze for a second then locking blue eyes with blue eyes. “Nightmare?”
Jack shook his head.
“Memories?”
Jack returned a half-nod.
“Year That Never Was?”
“Kinda.”
“You wanna talk?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay.” Ianto lifted the covers, beckoning Jack to join him again. The Captain slipped under them, curling close as Ianto raised his arm for Jack to put his head on his chest.
“It still hurts.” said Jack quietly. “Inside.”
“I know, Jack.” Ianto stroked his hair reassuringly.
“You won’t ever remember ... it never happened for you ... but for me ... for me, it really did. All those things ... all that pain ... all that death ... it all happened.”
Ianto knew Jack didn’t want him to reply. He let him lose himself in his own thoughts. Stressed and worried, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Eugh ... my hair’s wet.” he said, too late to cut himself off as he realised why.
“Your hair smells of nicotine.” replied Jack simply. Ianto sighed dramatically, and Jack didn’t have to look at him to know he’d rolled his eyes so hard he’d nearly taken his own head off.
“I know the rules about smoking, Jack.” said Ianto, moving as if to get up. Jack clung on to him. “I swear: not since Tosh died.”
“Okay.” said Jack, kissing the soft skin beneath his lips and swirling a finger through the dark chest hair, his concerns forgotten.
~*~*~*~
RHYS has entered the conversation
MR JONES: Elo.
RHYS: Hi.
MR JONES: Arrrrriiiiiiight?
RHYS: Recovering.
MR JONES: Those kids were hell in a confined space.
RHYS: What would you know? You left early!
MR JONES: Sorry.
RHYS: Why did you go? We’re supposed to be mates. You just left me.
MR JONES: I’m really sorry. I had to get Jack out of there.
RHYS: Course you did.
MR JONES: He was being hit on by an attractive blond who was also younger than me.
RHYS: You coulda just told him to back off, Jack’s taken.
MR JONES: I’m not sure Jack sees himself as ‘taken’, exactly.
MR JONES: It’s complicated.
MR JONES: I’m not even sure what ‘it’ is, to be honest.
MR JONES: I just acted on impulse and got Jack away from him.
RHYS: Who was it?
MR JONES: Young blond, dressed as Vampire Lestat.
RHYS: I know who you mean.
RHYS: Anyway, Gwen told me what she caught you doing.
MR JONES: Well, I had to get his attention back on me somehow!
RHYS: Those kids were hell and you just left me to cope on my own while you went and gave you boyfriend-that’s-not-really-your-boyfriend-well-sort-of-but-it’s-complicated a blowjob!
MR JONES: It wasn’t like that.
RHYS: You shouldn’t feel the need for his attention to be on you all the time just to be happy. It’s not a good sign.
MR JONES: Yeah, I’m gonna take advice about keeping a partner’s attentions from you.
RHYS: What’s that supposed to mean.
MR JONES: Nothing.
RHYS: What are you saying? Are you making accusations about Gwen?
MR JONES: I don’t need to make accusations. Accusations are assumptions, and you don’t need to assume what you already know.
RHYS: You tell me what you’re talking about. Now.
MR JONES: I’m talking bollocks to get you off my back. Leave me alone, and I’ll deal with my relationship how I’ve been dealing with it for the last three years. And as long as I’m happy, and Jack’s happy, the relationship is good.
RHYS: Are you really that happy though? Because every time we get pissed together, all you do is complain about him.
MR JONES: All you do is complain about Gwen – drunk or sober!
RHYS: Oh god oh god ohgodohgodohgodohgod!
RHYS: We’re arguing!
MR JONES: Shit. Does that make us metaphorically yet non-homosexually married?
RHYS: I think it does. :|
MR JONES: Shit.
RHYS: With sugar on.
MR JONES: And confetti, by the sound of things ;)
RHYS: Is this the bit where we apologize to each other?
MR JONES: *hands over virtual bunch of flowers and virtual box of chocolates* I’m sowwi. I won’t do it again I pwomise.
RHYS: *accepts gifts* too effing right you won’t. Next time, you’re sleeping on the sofa!
MR JONES: I’m always on the sofa at your flat!
MR JONES: .... does this mean that if I’m very, very good I can get in bed with you and Gwen?
RHYS: Sometimes I wonder if you’ve greased your morals to make them even looser.
MR JONES: Well, I have become quite the connoisseur of lubricants. ;)
RHYS: Right. Well. I have to go.
MR JONES: Ha! Okie dokie :-P
RHYS: Bye *hugs*
MR JONES: Byeee *hugs back*
RHYS has left the conversation
~*~*~*~
MR JONES has entered the conversation
GWEN: I can’t believe you did a runner!!!
MR JONES: Lay off us Gwen. This isn’t the day for it.
GWEN: You two fallen out?
MR JONES: I think Jack needs some space. And so do I.
GWEN: You haven’t fallen out?
MR JONES: No. Today we just need some distance.
GWEN: What’s so special about today?
MR JONES: Three years since the List of the Dead was released from Canary Wharf.
GWEN: Oh. *hugs*
MR JONES: *hugs back*
GWEN: I’m sorry. I’m so stupid sometimes.
MR JONES: We all are. We all are :)
GWEN: I’ll keep out of your way :)
MR JONES: Thanks.
GWEN: *hugs*
GWEN have left the conversation
JACK: Can’t believe you played the Canary Wharf card just so we could go have a quick shag.
MR JONES: *shrugs* Sometimes you just gotta guilt trip.
JACK: Whatever.
JACK: Fancy taking the beads to the library?
MR JONES: Only if we can get VERY drunk afterwards.
JACK: Deal!
MR JONES: I tax first go! :P
JACK: Awww no fair! It was my idea!
MR JONES: Muahaha!
MR JONES: But if we see anyone we know, you turn them off, right?
JACK: I promise. We’ll take the TeleComms too, just in case.
MR JONES: Yay!
JACK: Are you in Archives?
MR JONES: Tourist Centre.
JACK: I’m on my way!
MR JONES: Thought you might be ;)
JACK: :) See you in a minute x
MR JONES: x x
JACK: x x x
MR JONES: Piss off :)
FIN
I'm on a happy high! Not sure why.
I've begun work an a post-COE fic, which I'll get posted soon. It's only handwritten at the moment, so I'll have to type it all up. (decided I'd rather have a physical copy of it in case my computer went mental on me again. I'm also looking into google.docs.)
I'm re-reading "Something in the Water" to review it for you all, and it's taking longer than it should because I'm so busy! I'll have a review of "Pack Animals" to do after that. Then I think I'll do "The Twilight Streets". Out of order, I know, but *shrugs* That's the order I'm doing them in.
A couple of you stated you liked being referred to as 'minion', so I shall continue to do so.
I also realised today that I've totally forgotten that my "Request" post existed. I'm really sorry if you've requested a fic and it hasn't happened yet ... I think someone retconned the information out of me! *narrows eyes inunrequited1984's direction* You wanted me to forget the others so that I'd whore myself out for your needs, didn't you????? :-P
Next Part | Previous Part | Torchwood Index | Request a Convo/Prose Fic
Chapter: 57
Characters: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, Gwen Cooper, Rhys Williams
Author:
a_silver_storyGenre Humour, a touch of angst.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: M.M implied, cussing
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know.
Summary: Ianto has some apologising to do. Ish. There's a smidged of YTNW angst, too.
FIRST PART | Ianto and Gwen's IM's
PREVIOUS | Torchwood Index/Masterlist
57 |
Jack and Ianto were lying in their four poster, Ianto fast asleep and Jack watching him. It sometimes made him feel old to look at Ianto. The corners of his eyes were barely wrinkled, his Gaelic skin soft and warm to touch, his hair thick and glossy. Jack wondered if his own now weathered body ever looked old to Ianto. Did his skin feel leathery under those soft fingers? Were his hands calloused and grating on his warm thighs? Did those pale blue eyes see smile lines and crows’ feet around Jack’s equal pair?
Jack slipped from beneath the covers and crept over to the floor-to-ceiling mirror near the bath end of the den. ‘You look tired, Jacky.’ said the internal voice Jack was beginning to worry about. Had it always been there? Was he going mad in his old age? He gazed at his reflection, pulling the skin around his eye taught. Was it sagging, or was he paranoid? Had he always been able to pull it so far?
Wandering back over to Ianto, Jack reached out and touched his face. “Twenty-five,” he breathed. “Still a baby.”
He was suddenly overtaken with the urge to bury his head in Ianto's hair and weep. He climbed on to the bed behind him and let the tears silently flow. His mind wandered back to the Valiant: the Master; the Torture; the Death ... and Ianto. The Mater and Ianto. That year may never have Been, but for Jack it still Happened. Clutching Ianto – definitely breathing, alive and safe in his arms again – clutching Ianto tighter, he felt a sob wrack his body and Ianto stirred. Jack held his breath, praying he would settle again.
He did, and Jack kissed his hair, damp and salty from his emotional outbreak. Just thinking of it, tears welled up and spilled again, and Jack inhaled the scent of coffee, sweat, sex and nicotine. Jack felt a stab of annoyance at the latter, having asked him to quit or at least tell Jack when he smoked and how much. He calmed himself, considered it and realised Ianto probably picked up the scent at the party.
The Captain peeled himself from Ianto and located the brown Indianto Jones jacket. He stuck his hand in the pockets. PDA, phone, stolen Haribo, car keys and the cigarette case. Jack flicked it open. Same number as last time. He closed it and put it back, and began replacing Ianto's other belongings.
“What are you doing?” asked a grizzled, sleepy and not the least bit annoyed voice from the bed.
“Trying to see if Gwen’s coming after us.” lied Jack, nodding at the PDA in his hand. Feeling guilty, he somehow managed to turn to Ianto and smile. He was tousled and a little flushed, with love bites littering his chest and stomach. Some of them were old, some of them were fresh. Jack’s smile faltered at the concerned frown that met him.
“You’ve been crying.” stated Ianto, averting his gaze for a second then locking blue eyes with blue eyes. “Nightmare?”
Jack shook his head.
“Memories?”
Jack returned a half-nod.
“Year That Never Was?”
“Kinda.”
“You wanna talk?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay.” Ianto lifted the covers, beckoning Jack to join him again. The Captain slipped under them, curling close as Ianto raised his arm for Jack to put his head on his chest.
“It still hurts.” said Jack quietly. “Inside.”
“I know, Jack.” Ianto stroked his hair reassuringly.
“You won’t ever remember ... it never happened for you ... but for me ... for me, it really did. All those things ... all that pain ... all that death ... it all happened.”
Ianto knew Jack didn’t want him to reply. He let him lose himself in his own thoughts. Stressed and worried, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Eugh ... my hair’s wet.” he said, too late to cut himself off as he realised why.
“Your hair smells of nicotine.” replied Jack simply. Ianto sighed dramatically, and Jack didn’t have to look at him to know he’d rolled his eyes so hard he’d nearly taken his own head off.
“I know the rules about smoking, Jack.” said Ianto, moving as if to get up. Jack clung on to him. “I swear: not since Tosh died.”
“Okay.” said Jack, kissing the soft skin beneath his lips and swirling a finger through the dark chest hair, his concerns forgotten.
RHYS has entered the conversation
MR JONES: Elo.
RHYS: Hi.
MR JONES: Arrrrriiiiiiight?
RHYS: Recovering.
MR JONES: Those kids were hell in a confined space.
RHYS: What would you know? You left early!
MR JONES: Sorry.
RHYS: Why did you go? We’re supposed to be mates. You just left me.
MR JONES: I’m really sorry. I had to get Jack out of there.
RHYS: Course you did.
MR JONES: He was being hit on by an attractive blond who was also younger than me.
RHYS: You coulda just told him to back off, Jack’s taken.
MR JONES: I’m not sure Jack sees himself as ‘taken’, exactly.
MR JONES: It’s complicated.
MR JONES: I’m not even sure what ‘it’ is, to be honest.
MR JONES: I just acted on impulse and got Jack away from him.
RHYS: Who was it?
MR JONES: Young blond, dressed as Vampire Lestat.
RHYS: I know who you mean.
RHYS: Anyway, Gwen told me what she caught you doing.
MR JONES: Well, I had to get his attention back on me somehow!
RHYS: Those kids were hell and you just left me to cope on my own while you went and gave you boyfriend-that’s-not-really-your-boyfriend-well-sort-of-but-it’s-complicated a blowjob!
MR JONES: It wasn’t like that.
RHYS: You shouldn’t feel the need for his attention to be on you all the time just to be happy. It’s not a good sign.
MR JONES: Yeah, I’m gonna take advice about keeping a partner’s attentions from you.
RHYS: What’s that supposed to mean.
MR JONES: Nothing.
RHYS: What are you saying? Are you making accusations about Gwen?
MR JONES: I don’t need to make accusations. Accusations are assumptions, and you don’t need to assume what you already know.
RHYS: You tell me what you’re talking about. Now.
MR JONES: I’m talking bollocks to get you off my back. Leave me alone, and I’ll deal with my relationship how I’ve been dealing with it for the last three years. And as long as I’m happy, and Jack’s happy, the relationship is good.
RHYS: Are you really that happy though? Because every time we get pissed together, all you do is complain about him.
MR JONES: All you do is complain about Gwen – drunk or sober!
RHYS: Oh god oh god ohgodohgodohgodohgod!
RHYS: We’re arguing!
MR JONES: Shit. Does that make us metaphorically yet non-homosexually married?
RHYS: I think it does. :|
MR JONES: Shit.
RHYS: With sugar on.
MR JONES: And confetti, by the sound of things ;)
RHYS: Is this the bit where we apologize to each other?
MR JONES: *hands over virtual bunch of flowers and virtual box of chocolates* I’m sowwi. I won’t do it again I pwomise.
RHYS: *accepts gifts* too effing right you won’t. Next time, you’re sleeping on the sofa!
MR JONES: I’m always on the sofa at your flat!
MR JONES: .... does this mean that if I’m very, very good I can get in bed with you and Gwen?
RHYS: Sometimes I wonder if you’ve greased your morals to make them even looser.
MR JONES: Well, I have become quite the connoisseur of lubricants. ;)
RHYS: Right. Well. I have to go.
MR JONES: Ha! Okie dokie :-P
RHYS: Bye *hugs*
MR JONES: Byeee *hugs back*
RHYS has left the conversation
MR JONES has entered the conversation
GWEN: I can’t believe you did a runner!!!
MR JONES: Lay off us Gwen. This isn’t the day for it.
GWEN: You two fallen out?
MR JONES: I think Jack needs some space. And so do I.
GWEN: You haven’t fallen out?
MR JONES: No. Today we just need some distance.
GWEN: What’s so special about today?
MR JONES: Three years since the List of the Dead was released from Canary Wharf.
GWEN: Oh. *hugs*
MR JONES: *hugs back*
GWEN: I’m sorry. I’m so stupid sometimes.
MR JONES: We all are. We all are :)
GWEN: I’ll keep out of your way :)
MR JONES: Thanks.
GWEN: *hugs*
GWEN have left the conversation
JACK: Can’t believe you played the Canary Wharf card just so we could go have a quick shag.
MR JONES: *shrugs* Sometimes you just gotta guilt trip.
JACK: Whatever.
JACK: Fancy taking the beads to the library?
MR JONES: Only if we can get VERY drunk afterwards.
JACK: Deal!
MR JONES: I tax first go! :P
JACK: Awww no fair! It was my idea!
MR JONES: Muahaha!
MR JONES: But if we see anyone we know, you turn them off, right?
JACK: I promise. We’ll take the TeleComms too, just in case.
MR JONES: Yay!
JACK: Are you in Archives?
MR JONES: Tourist Centre.
JACK: I’m on my way!
MR JONES: Thought you might be ;)
JACK: :) See you in a minute x
MR JONES: x x
JACK: x x x
MR JONES: Piss off :)
FIN
I know I don't really need to say it here, but no spoilers in comments please.
I'm on a happy high! Not sure why.
I've begun work an a post-COE fic, which I'll get posted soon. It's only handwritten at the moment, so I'll have to type it all up. (decided I'd rather have a physical copy of it in case my computer went mental on me again. I'm also looking into google.docs.)
I'm re-reading "Something in the Water" to review it for you all, and it's taking longer than it should because I'm so busy! I'll have a review of "Pack Animals" to do after that. Then I think I'll do "The Twilight Streets". Out of order, I know, but *shrugs* That's the order I'm doing them in.
A couple of you stated you liked being referred to as 'minion', so I shall continue to do so.
I also realised today that I've totally forgotten that my "Request" post existed. I'm really sorry if you've requested a fic and it hasn't happened yet ... I think someone retconned the information out of me! *narrows eyes in
unrequited1984's direction* You wanted me to forget the others so that I'd whore myself out for your needs, didn't you????? :-P
