Yesterday Is But Today's Memory - 18/19+Interlude
Title: Yesterday Is But Today's Memory
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Disclaimer: If I was the one who owned Torchwood, you think I'd admit it now?
Spoilers: Takes place post 2x05 'Adam', but mentions briefly minor info from later s2 eps. AU
Summary: It wasn’t the lost days that were really giving Ianto Jones nightmares. It was the fact that ever since, he’d suddenly been having flashes from another period of his life he’d thought was lost forever - his first ten years.
Warning: Some chapters of this fic will contain material some may find offensive. To go into more detail would be spoilery for the plot, but DO NOT READ if you are easily offended.
Thanks to: My wonderful betas morbid_sparks, cazmalfoy and angelzbabe1989, who talked me into writing this, then held my hand while I worked through the plot and filled all its holes.
Previous chapters at master list
Chapter Eighteen
Ianto woke up the following morning feeling refreshed and calmed. Intellectually he knew that - he glanced at the clock on the bedside table in front of him - six hours of sleep wasn’t enough to make up for four nights with none, but he felt better nonetheless.
He rolled his shoulders and snuggled further into the warmth of his duvet; he didn’t have to get up quite yet. There was a movement against his back, and he rolled over just enough to see over his shoulder.
Jack, for the first time Ianto could bring to mind, was still asleep, snuffling slightly into the pillow.
Jack.
In his bed.
Naked.
Shit.
The events of the night before came flooding back into Ianto’s mind with alarming clarity.
He felt slightly sticky and sore in all the right places - which, no, were all the wrong places.
He lifted his head slightly, enough to look around the room and see the myriad of items of clothing scattered around the room. He knew that if - when - he got up and went into the living room, he would find more of the same.
Shit, shittity shit shit.
He shuffled carefully forwards a few inches, until he lost all skin-to-skin contact with Jack. He instantly felt colder, but he knew it had to be done.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Gingerly, he eased out of bed, trying not to wake Jack from his slumber. The cool morning air sent a shiver through his body and he scrunched his toes against the cold laminate flooring.
Padding to the attached bathroom and closing the door firmly behind him, he took a look at himself in the mirror above the sink. Better than yesterday - definitely more rested - but not by much.
He barely waited for the water to heat up before hopping into the shower and washing swiftly. He towelled off and hesitated before going back into the bedroom.
Jack would almost certainly be awake by now; the plumbing in his flat was good, but not overly quiet. And he really wasn’t sure how to face him; he didn’t know what to say.
Realising quickly that, unfortunately, he couldn’t hide in his bathroom forever, he tucked his towel more securely around his waist and pushed the door open.
Just as he’d suspected, Jack was awake, although he hadn’t moved to get out of bed yet. He looked over at Ianto as he stepped into the bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind him and leaning with his back to the wall.
Jack’s eyes automatically flicked over Ianto’s near-naked body, and there was just a hint of a leer beginning before reality suddenly seemed to hit him and he checked himself.
His gaze rolled to the ceiling while Ianto’s dropped to the floor - actually looking at each other was dangerous, as they had discovered all too well last night.
“This… that… should never have happened,” Ianto said quietly.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jack nodding.
“We just got a little… carried away,” he continued. “It can’t - it won’t happen again.”
“No,” Jack agreed, almost inaudibly. “It was just… a mistake. An aberration. One last time to satisfy our trait-traitorous bodies.”
Ianto nodded. “One last time. Doesn’t have to be a big deal. We can… we can just forget it ever happened and, well… move on. Get on with our lives, figure out how to deal with all of this and everything will be fine.”
Although his voice was steady and decided, Ianto had no idea how they were actually going to do it. He already knew that just forgetting about the night before was never going to happen.
He had a sinking feeling that ‘moving on’ wasn’t going to be as easy as the words made it sound, either.
And figuring out how to actually - properly - deal with all the revelations of the past days? Might as well forget about that one. It still hadn’t even really sunk in.
He glanced up briefly and noted that, while Jack was nodding vigorously, he didn’t look any more confident or assured than Ianto felt.
Jack heaved a deep sigh. “I should…” He made a gesture towards the door rather than complete the sentence.
“Yeah.” Ianto nodded. “I’ll just…” He quickly grabbed clothes for the day from his wardrobe and escaped into the living room to dress, leaving Jack to rise alone.
There was the brief sound of a tap running in the bathroom, and by the time Jack emerged from the bedroom, fully dressed if a little dishevelled, Ianto had coffee made and was leaning against his kitchen counter, a mug in one hand and a half-eaten slice of toast in the other.
Putting down the mug, he turned back to his coffee machine, pouring some into a travel mug instead of the mug Jack usually used when he spent the night. He didn’t think either of them was up to making small talk for long enough for him to drink it, but he didn’t feel right letting Jack go without offering him his first mug of the day.
Their fingers very carefully did not brush as Jack took the mug, mumbled a thanks, and escaped.
Chapter Nineteen
Comments and concrit welcomed - comments are love!! &hearts
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Disclaimer: If I was the one who owned Torchwood, you think I'd admit it now?
Spoilers: Takes place post 2x05 'Adam', but mentions briefly minor info from later s2 eps. AU
Summary: It wasn’t the lost days that were really giving Ianto Jones nightmares. It was the fact that ever since, he’d suddenly been having flashes from another period of his life he’d thought was lost forever - his first ten years.
Warning: Some chapters of this fic will contain material some may find offensive. To go into more detail would be spoilery for the plot, but DO NOT READ if you are easily offended.
Thanks to: My wonderful betas morbid_sparks, cazmalfoy and angelzbabe1989, who talked me into writing this, then held my hand while I worked through the plot and filled all its holes.
Previous chapters at master list
Chapter Eighteen
Ianto woke up the following morning feeling refreshed and calmed. Intellectually he knew that - he glanced at the clock on the bedside table in front of him - six hours of sleep wasn’t enough to make up for four nights with none, but he felt better nonetheless.
He rolled his shoulders and snuggled further into the warmth of his duvet; he didn’t have to get up quite yet. There was a movement against his back, and he rolled over just enough to see over his shoulder.
Jack, for the first time Ianto could bring to mind, was still asleep, snuffling slightly into the pillow.
Jack.
In his bed.
Naked.
Shit.
The events of the night before came flooding back into Ianto’s mind with alarming clarity.
He felt slightly sticky and sore in all the right places - which, no, were all the wrong places.
He lifted his head slightly, enough to look around the room and see the myriad of items of clothing scattered around the room. He knew that if - when - he got up and went into the living room, he would find more of the same.
Shit, shittity shit shit.
He shuffled carefully forwards a few inches, until he lost all skin-to-skin contact with Jack. He instantly felt colder, but he knew it had to be done.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Gingerly, he eased out of bed, trying not to wake Jack from his slumber. The cool morning air sent a shiver through his body and he scrunched his toes against the cold laminate flooring.
Padding to the attached bathroom and closing the door firmly behind him, he took a look at himself in the mirror above the sink. Better than yesterday - definitely more rested - but not by much.
He barely waited for the water to heat up before hopping into the shower and washing swiftly. He towelled off and hesitated before going back into the bedroom.
Jack would almost certainly be awake by now; the plumbing in his flat was good, but not overly quiet. And he really wasn’t sure how to face him; he didn’t know what to say.
Realising quickly that, unfortunately, he couldn’t hide in his bathroom forever, he tucked his towel more securely around his waist and pushed the door open.
Just as he’d suspected, Jack was awake, although he hadn’t moved to get out of bed yet. He looked over at Ianto as he stepped into the bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind him and leaning with his back to the wall.
Jack’s eyes automatically flicked over Ianto’s near-naked body, and there was just a hint of a leer beginning before reality suddenly seemed to hit him and he checked himself.
His gaze rolled to the ceiling while Ianto’s dropped to the floor - actually looking at each other was dangerous, as they had discovered all too well last night.
“This… that… should never have happened,” Ianto said quietly.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jack nodding.
“We just got a little… carried away,” he continued. “It can’t - it won’t happen again.”
“No,” Jack agreed, almost inaudibly. “It was just… a mistake. An aberration. One last time to satisfy our trait-traitorous bodies.”
Ianto nodded. “One last time. Doesn’t have to be a big deal. We can… we can just forget it ever happened and, well… move on. Get on with our lives, figure out how to deal with all of this and everything will be fine.”
Although his voice was steady and decided, Ianto had no idea how they were actually going to do it. He already knew that just forgetting about the night before was never going to happen.
He had a sinking feeling that ‘moving on’ wasn’t going to be as easy as the words made it sound, either.
And figuring out how to actually - properly - deal with all the revelations of the past days? Might as well forget about that one. It still hadn’t even really sunk in.
He glanced up briefly and noted that, while Jack was nodding vigorously, he didn’t look any more confident or assured than Ianto felt.
Jack heaved a deep sigh. “I should…” He made a gesture towards the door rather than complete the sentence.
“Yeah.” Ianto nodded. “I’ll just…” He quickly grabbed clothes for the day from his wardrobe and escaped into the living room to dress, leaving Jack to rise alone.
There was the brief sound of a tap running in the bathroom, and by the time Jack emerged from the bedroom, fully dressed if a little dishevelled, Ianto had coffee made and was leaning against his kitchen counter, a mug in one hand and a half-eaten slice of toast in the other.
Putting down the mug, he turned back to his coffee machine, pouring some into a travel mug instead of the mug Jack usually used when he spent the night. He didn’t think either of them was up to making small talk for long enough for him to drink it, but he didn’t feel right letting Jack go without offering him his first mug of the day.
Their fingers very carefully did not brush as Jack took the mug, mumbled a thanks, and escaped.
Chapter Nineteen
Comments and concrit welcomed - comments are love!! &hearts