Fic: these unexpected subtle risings
Title: these unexpected subtle risings
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto, Rhys/Gwen
Warnings/Spoilers: none, takes place mid-S2
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,920
Beta: sariagray
Summary: Ianto is injured, Jack is conflicted, Gwen listens, and Ianto uses his time in the hospital to his advantage.
Notes: Written for this week's redisourcolor challenge. Theme = spring; other prompts were the words truncate, demonstrable, earth and the phrase "It was a week before (s)he could walk normally again." Many, many thanks to sariagray for her amazing, last-minute help with this. <3 (And then of course I couldn't stop tweaking it, so any remaining mistakes are my own!)
Early Spring
Harshness vanished. A sudden softness
has replaced the meadows' wintry grey.
Little rivulets of water changed
their singing accents. Tendernesses,
hesitantly, reach toward the earth
from space, and country lanes are showing
these unexpected subtle risings
that find expression in the empty trees.
- Rainer Maria Rilke
**
"I swear, sometimes you make me feel like a walking contradiction," Jack says ruefully.
He's perched on the edge of Ianto's hospital bed peeling an apple, simply because Ianto had asked him to and because, Ianto suspects, he feels somehow guilty for what’s happened here.
He shouldn’t, of course.
It wasn’t as if Jack had asked him to march up to the whole bloody swarm of giant killer hornet things without protective gear on -- that had been 100% Ianto’s stupid decision.
Ianto looks up from his crossword, studying Jack for a moment. Jack’s still wearing his greatcoat, even though he's been inside for the better part of an hour now, and even though it's clearly April, and a little on the warm side, being the start of spring and all.
Ianto would never say anything about this though, he just lets Jack sweat, lets the coat do its duty silently.
He raises an eyebrow though, and watches Jack frown at him. He understands this reaction to mean that he must still look like crap. And it makes sense. The last time he’d looked in a mirror the bruises were still turning colors, and his cheek, just below his right eye to his chin, had swollen to roughly the size of a softball.
“You, a contradiction?” he says to Jack, not really being able to stop the affection from creeping into his voice. “I can’t imagine.”
Jack just stares at him. Sets the apple on the napkin he’s got spread across his lap, and touches Ianto’s fingers for a second.
“I’d move heaven and earth to keep you safe. You know that, right?”
“Heaven?” Ianto raises both eyebrows this time.
Jack snorts a little. “It’s an expression.”
“Right.”
“Ianto,” Jack starts again, more seriously this time, and it makes Ianto sit up a little straighter, despite the twinge that cuts through his ribs with the motion. “I’m serious. You know I’d do anything to make sure things like this never happen, but..."
“But?”
Jack frowns. “But then I don’t.” He makes a sweeping gesture to the room, to Ianto.
“This is nothing, Jack. I had worse after a rugby match once when I was in second year.”
Jack just shakes his head, his eyes sad, and Ianto wishes for once that he had a way with words, that he could say something to fix this. Jack’s perpetual guilty conscience gets to him, more than he cares to admit.
But after all is said and done, it was a week before he could walk normally again, and despite what he’d told Jack…
He doesn’t really think rugby ever kept him off his feet for so long. Or involved quite so much internal bleeding.
**
“I think I’m falling in love with him,” Jack confesses to Gwen one night at the pub.
Ianto has been in the hospital for a few days now, complications from their last run in with the rift, and while Gwen’s never seen Jack drink anything other than water outside of his own office before, tonight he’s got an actual proper drink in front of him. If Gwen didn’t know better, she’d say she could detect a tiny, just slightly discernible change in him, too.
It’s a bit thrilling to witness, which is probably the only reason she’s stuck around with him quite so long tonight. Rhys is going to kill her for working late, again.
And she’s sure she should be encouraging Jack with this -- she knows how Ianto feels, after all, the poor kid’s entire world revolves around Jack, but… Instead she finds herself staring at Jack, and smiling a little sadly.
“If that’s really true, Jack…” she starts, hesitantly.
“I know, I know, I should get rid of him. Retcon. A plane ticket,” Jack says, throwing back the rest of his drink. “Trust me, I know.”
Gwen just nods. Jack’s right. It’s what she would do, too… Well, maybe it’s what she’d like to imagine she’d do. She thinks of Rhys, at home in bed. It’s not as if she’d gone particularly out of her way to protect him lately, had she. Hell, she’d let him walk right into a huge mess of danger with the whole team watching, just a few weeks ago.
And it had been wonderful, is the thought that comes next, of course. Exhilarating, even. Her chest tightens a little. She meets Jack’s eyes.
“But you can’t, can you.”
Jack hangs his head. “No.”
“You want him around.”
“Yeah, of course I do.”
She watches Jack trace circles around the rim of his glass, looking as conflicted as she’s ever seen him. She catches his eye for a second.
“It’s bloody brilliant, right?”
She smiles at Jack, a little guiltily, and when he smiles back, it lights up his whole face.
“It’s the best,” he agrees, grinning. “Don’t know what I ever did without him.”
Gwen grins back at him and then stands, slapping her hands down on the table, as Jack raises his eyebrows. “So I’ll get us another round then, yeah?”
**
It’s 3AM when she finally gets home to Rhys.
At least it hadn’t been raining. She’d only half-trusted Jack when he waved her off, saying he was fine to drive, blaming his unusually quick recovery on his "condition". She’d agreed to let him take her home, but… Not having to worry about him navigating the SUV through heavy spring rains had gone a long way towards convincing her she’d make it in one piece.
The flat is dark, and there’s take-away left on the card table in the living room. She smiles, trying as hard as she can not to trip over her own feet as she stumbles through to the bedroom.
She knows she has to lie -- no way is she telling Rhys she was out at the pub with Jack this whole time. She’s really not happy about it, but… Well, she convinced Jack to let her bring home a little surprise, something to smooth things over with Rhys for showing up after midnight at least four nights this week already. She grins.
“Are you drunk, love?” Rhys asks sleepily from his side of the bed.
Her hearts swells a little, just watching him.
“Shh,” she says, pulling her shirt over her head, trying not to topple over in the process. “I brought you something. A bit of a toy, if you know what I mean. And it’s… Well, it’s alien, but…”
Rhys is sitting up in bed now, watching her curiously in the darkness as she fumbles with her jeans.
She looks up at him and beams, then bats her eyelashes. “Ianto says it’s fabulous.”
“Does he then,” Rhys says, but he’s already smiling, and pulling the shirt off over his head with one hand.
Truth be told, it’s not exactly the first time she’s brought home surprises like this. So far, Rhys has been very… compliant, and tonight seems to be no exception. Her pulse races with anticipation.
Even if it’s a week before either of them are able to walk normally again, Gwen’s pretty sure it’ll be worth every second.
**
Ianto looks up at the lines of numbers as they carefully arrange themselves in neat rows, truncating across three screens as they go. It’s one of Tosh’s programs, of course, and it's utter genius. It would have taken him hours and hours to organize all this data without it. Someday he really has to get her to teach him some of her tricks.
Ianto sighs. Then winces.
Those ridiculous things, whatever they had been (he’d read the report, but it turned out they didn’t even have a name, just a series of dots and dashes) had really done a number on him, and while he’s been back on active duty for three days now, and he’ll never admit it to Jack, he’s absolutely knackered. He aches in places he’s sure he never knew existed thanks to the bruising, and while Owen has assured him that none of his injuries carry any severe consequences, he definitely feels like he’s increased his pain tolerance about tenfold with this experience.
He rubs his eyes, and with a demonstrable lack of grace, heaves himself up from his chair. It’s about that time, after all.
Myfanwy’s appetite has been voracious lately - he knows he has to get to her before she starts again with her incessant squalking. It tends to bother Jack far more than it does him, but they have the night shift together tonight, so what’s Jack’s problem is his, unfortunately.
“She sounds like a cat in heat,” Jack had grumbled to him in the hospital. “Only worse. I don’t know how you put up with it.”
“It’s only a few weeks out of the year,” Ianto had told him, smiling. “Spring has sprung, after all.”
Ianto’s not sure why, but Jack had been really, unexpectedly nice about this most recent hospital stay.
He’d shown up to visit Ianto almost every day, and most of those days, he'd stayed for hours. They'd spent most of that time just talking, or sitting next to each other in comfortable silence. Jack had brought apples, for god’s sake, and then proceeded to sit there peeling them for Ianto, passing the pieces to Ianto from a plate perched on his knees, as if there was nowhere else he’d rather be. It had been…well, honestly, it had been really sweet.
“I think I’m falling in love with him,” he tells Myfanwy, as if this isn’t the understatement of the 21st century. She squalks at him happily, as he presents her with her dinner, and then nuzzles into his shoulder.
“It’s a bloody curse,” he whispers conspiratorially, scratching absently at what he knows is her favorite spot, just around the back of her neck. “Things like this aren’t the same where he comes from, you know? If I’m serious about this, I think I’m going to have to up my game.”
Myfanwy stares at him, a little blankly, and Ianto shakes his head. It’s not the first time that he’s confided in Myfanwy like this, but… Well, some days it makes him feel a little crazier than others.
“So what’s this I hear about a game?” Jack asks, having suddenly appeared from wherever it is that he always seems to suddenly appear from. His office, Ianto supposes, but somehow in his absence Jack appears to have gotten particularly stealthy about it. Then again, maybe he’s just a lot more tired than he’d thought.
“Oh, you’ll see,” Ianto tells him quickly, with a slightly wicked grin that he hopes will stop Jack from asking too many questions. At least until he’s ready, that is.
This last week in the hospital had been a long one, after all.
And Ianto had done his homework.
He’s serious about this whole upping his game plan.
And he’d been listening, despite what Jack might have thought about the levels of his pain medication, when Jack had chosen to tell him a particularly long-winded story about a particular flower known for its enhancement of certain experiences, that only blooms during the first few days of spring, somewhere far off in the Vegas Galaxy, and, well… Ianto has connections. And initiative. And he knows the name of the planet. Thanks to Jack, he has instructions on exactly where to find it, too.
So Ianto figures he really can’t be held responsible if his recovery takes a decidedly inappropriate relapse sometime in the next, say, twenty-four to forty-eight hours.
Besides, he thinks, it’s entirely possible that normal, in regards to some things, is entirely overrated.
***
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto, Rhys/Gwen
Warnings/Spoilers: none, takes place mid-S2
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,920
Beta: sariagray
Summary: Ianto is injured, Jack is conflicted, Gwen listens, and Ianto uses his time in the hospital to his advantage.
Notes: Written for this week's redisourcolor challenge. Theme = spring; other prompts were the words truncate, demonstrable, earth and the phrase "It was a week before (s)he could walk normally again." Many, many thanks to sariagray for her amazing, last-minute help with this. <3 (And then of course I couldn't stop tweaking it, so any remaining mistakes are my own!)
Early Spring
Harshness vanished. A sudden softness
has replaced the meadows' wintry grey.
Little rivulets of water changed
their singing accents. Tendernesses,
hesitantly, reach toward the earth
from space, and country lanes are showing
these unexpected subtle risings
that find expression in the empty trees.
- Rainer Maria Rilke
**
"I swear, sometimes you make me feel like a walking contradiction," Jack says ruefully.
He's perched on the edge of Ianto's hospital bed peeling an apple, simply because Ianto had asked him to and because, Ianto suspects, he feels somehow guilty for what’s happened here.
He shouldn’t, of course.
It wasn’t as if Jack had asked him to march up to the whole bloody swarm of giant killer hornet things without protective gear on -- that had been 100% Ianto’s stupid decision.
Ianto looks up from his crossword, studying Jack for a moment. Jack’s still wearing his greatcoat, even though he's been inside for the better part of an hour now, and even though it's clearly April, and a little on the warm side, being the start of spring and all.
Ianto would never say anything about this though, he just lets Jack sweat, lets the coat do its duty silently.
He raises an eyebrow though, and watches Jack frown at him. He understands this reaction to mean that he must still look like crap. And it makes sense. The last time he’d looked in a mirror the bruises were still turning colors, and his cheek, just below his right eye to his chin, had swollen to roughly the size of a softball.
“You, a contradiction?” he says to Jack, not really being able to stop the affection from creeping into his voice. “I can’t imagine.”
Jack just stares at him. Sets the apple on the napkin he’s got spread across his lap, and touches Ianto’s fingers for a second.
“I’d move heaven and earth to keep you safe. You know that, right?”
“Heaven?” Ianto raises both eyebrows this time.
Jack snorts a little. “It’s an expression.”
“Right.”
“Ianto,” Jack starts again, more seriously this time, and it makes Ianto sit up a little straighter, despite the twinge that cuts through his ribs with the motion. “I’m serious. You know I’d do anything to make sure things like this never happen, but..."
“But?”
Jack frowns. “But then I don’t.” He makes a sweeping gesture to the room, to Ianto.
“This is nothing, Jack. I had worse after a rugby match once when I was in second year.”
Jack just shakes his head, his eyes sad, and Ianto wishes for once that he had a way with words, that he could say something to fix this. Jack’s perpetual guilty conscience gets to him, more than he cares to admit.
But after all is said and done, it was a week before he could walk normally again, and despite what he’d told Jack…
He doesn’t really think rugby ever kept him off his feet for so long. Or involved quite so much internal bleeding.
**
“I think I’m falling in love with him,” Jack confesses to Gwen one night at the pub.
Ianto has been in the hospital for a few days now, complications from their last run in with the rift, and while Gwen’s never seen Jack drink anything other than water outside of his own office before, tonight he’s got an actual proper drink in front of him. If Gwen didn’t know better, she’d say she could detect a tiny, just slightly discernible change in him, too.
It’s a bit thrilling to witness, which is probably the only reason she’s stuck around with him quite so long tonight. Rhys is going to kill her for working late, again.
And she’s sure she should be encouraging Jack with this -- she knows how Ianto feels, after all, the poor kid’s entire world revolves around Jack, but… Instead she finds herself staring at Jack, and smiling a little sadly.
“If that’s really true, Jack…” she starts, hesitantly.
“I know, I know, I should get rid of him. Retcon. A plane ticket,” Jack says, throwing back the rest of his drink. “Trust me, I know.”
Gwen just nods. Jack’s right. It’s what she would do, too… Well, maybe it’s what she’d like to imagine she’d do. She thinks of Rhys, at home in bed. It’s not as if she’d gone particularly out of her way to protect him lately, had she. Hell, she’d let him walk right into a huge mess of danger with the whole team watching, just a few weeks ago.
And it had been wonderful, is the thought that comes next, of course. Exhilarating, even. Her chest tightens a little. She meets Jack’s eyes.
“But you can’t, can you.”
Jack hangs his head. “No.”
“You want him around.”
“Yeah, of course I do.”
She watches Jack trace circles around the rim of his glass, looking as conflicted as she’s ever seen him. She catches his eye for a second.
“It’s bloody brilliant, right?”
She smiles at Jack, a little guiltily, and when he smiles back, it lights up his whole face.
“It’s the best,” he agrees, grinning. “Don’t know what I ever did without him.”
Gwen grins back at him and then stands, slapping her hands down on the table, as Jack raises his eyebrows. “So I’ll get us another round then, yeah?”
**
It’s 3AM when she finally gets home to Rhys.
At least it hadn’t been raining. She’d only half-trusted Jack when he waved her off, saying he was fine to drive, blaming his unusually quick recovery on his "condition". She’d agreed to let him take her home, but… Not having to worry about him navigating the SUV through heavy spring rains had gone a long way towards convincing her she’d make it in one piece.
The flat is dark, and there’s take-away left on the card table in the living room. She smiles, trying as hard as she can not to trip over her own feet as she stumbles through to the bedroom.
She knows she has to lie -- no way is she telling Rhys she was out at the pub with Jack this whole time. She’s really not happy about it, but… Well, she convinced Jack to let her bring home a little surprise, something to smooth things over with Rhys for showing up after midnight at least four nights this week already. She grins.
“Are you drunk, love?” Rhys asks sleepily from his side of the bed.
Her hearts swells a little, just watching him.
“Shh,” she says, pulling her shirt over her head, trying not to topple over in the process. “I brought you something. A bit of a toy, if you know what I mean. And it’s… Well, it’s alien, but…”
Rhys is sitting up in bed now, watching her curiously in the darkness as she fumbles with her jeans.
She looks up at him and beams, then bats her eyelashes. “Ianto says it’s fabulous.”
“Does he then,” Rhys says, but he’s already smiling, and pulling the shirt off over his head with one hand.
Truth be told, it’s not exactly the first time she’s brought home surprises like this. So far, Rhys has been very… compliant, and tonight seems to be no exception. Her pulse races with anticipation.
Even if it’s a week before either of them are able to walk normally again, Gwen’s pretty sure it’ll be worth every second.
**
Ianto looks up at the lines of numbers as they carefully arrange themselves in neat rows, truncating across three screens as they go. It’s one of Tosh’s programs, of course, and it's utter genius. It would have taken him hours and hours to organize all this data without it. Someday he really has to get her to teach him some of her tricks.
Ianto sighs. Then winces.
Those ridiculous things, whatever they had been (he’d read the report, but it turned out they didn’t even have a name, just a series of dots and dashes) had really done a number on him, and while he’s been back on active duty for three days now, and he’ll never admit it to Jack, he’s absolutely knackered. He aches in places he’s sure he never knew existed thanks to the bruising, and while Owen has assured him that none of his injuries carry any severe consequences, he definitely feels like he’s increased his pain tolerance about tenfold with this experience.
He rubs his eyes, and with a demonstrable lack of grace, heaves himself up from his chair. It’s about that time, after all.
Myfanwy’s appetite has been voracious lately - he knows he has to get to her before she starts again with her incessant squalking. It tends to bother Jack far more than it does him, but they have the night shift together tonight, so what’s Jack’s problem is his, unfortunately.
“She sounds like a cat in heat,” Jack had grumbled to him in the hospital. “Only worse. I don’t know how you put up with it.”
“It’s only a few weeks out of the year,” Ianto had told him, smiling. “Spring has sprung, after all.”
Ianto’s not sure why, but Jack had been really, unexpectedly nice about this most recent hospital stay.
He’d shown up to visit Ianto almost every day, and most of those days, he'd stayed for hours. They'd spent most of that time just talking, or sitting next to each other in comfortable silence. Jack had brought apples, for god’s sake, and then proceeded to sit there peeling them for Ianto, passing the pieces to Ianto from a plate perched on his knees, as if there was nowhere else he’d rather be. It had been…well, honestly, it had been really sweet.
“I think I’m falling in love with him,” he tells Myfanwy, as if this isn’t the understatement of the 21st century. She squalks at him happily, as he presents her with her dinner, and then nuzzles into his shoulder.
“It’s a bloody curse,” he whispers conspiratorially, scratching absently at what he knows is her favorite spot, just around the back of her neck. “Things like this aren’t the same where he comes from, you know? If I’m serious about this, I think I’m going to have to up my game.”
Myfanwy stares at him, a little blankly, and Ianto shakes his head. It’s not the first time that he’s confided in Myfanwy like this, but… Well, some days it makes him feel a little crazier than others.
“So what’s this I hear about a game?” Jack asks, having suddenly appeared from wherever it is that he always seems to suddenly appear from. His office, Ianto supposes, but somehow in his absence Jack appears to have gotten particularly stealthy about it. Then again, maybe he’s just a lot more tired than he’d thought.
“Oh, you’ll see,” Ianto tells him quickly, with a slightly wicked grin that he hopes will stop Jack from asking too many questions. At least until he’s ready, that is.
This last week in the hospital had been a long one, after all.
And Ianto had done his homework.
He’s serious about this whole upping his game plan.
And he’d been listening, despite what Jack might have thought about the levels of his pain medication, when Jack had chosen to tell him a particularly long-winded story about a particular flower known for its enhancement of certain experiences, that only blooms during the first few days of spring, somewhere far off in the Vegas Galaxy, and, well… Ianto has connections. And initiative. And he knows the name of the planet. Thanks to Jack, he has instructions on exactly where to find it, too.
So Ianto figures he really can’t be held responsible if his recovery takes a decidedly inappropriate relapse sometime in the next, say, twenty-four to forty-eight hours.
Besides, he thinks, it’s entirely possible that normal, in regards to some things, is entirely overrated.
***