Accessories Make the Man
Title: When Accessories Do Not Make the Man
Author: jbs_teeth
Rating: G
Pairing: Ianto/Jack
Spoilers: None, zero, nada (um, unless you look really, really hard)
Notes: I wanted to write something happy, and though I actually don't think this is it, at least not in the tone I wanted it to be, I thought I'd post it anyway, in response to the Ianto love-fest going on over at Torchwood coffee. Not the best thing ever, but at least nice, you know?
Ianto leans into the workspace tabletop, left knee cocked slightly outward, right hip a touch tilted opposite to counter-balance, right index finger bent and resting oddly at the tip of his nose. This is the position Ianto takes when he is thinking, just one of the secret vignettes Jack alone notices, tracks and collects.
This pose is rarer, as Ianto's intellectual acuity seems to be increasing exponentially. Jack expects the pose will soon shift into motion: When Ianto does find the answer, he'll give an all-but imperceptible nod, then turn around, pushing himself into rising momentum, and run to Tosh with his new information.
Lately he is a study in movement, loose-hipped but purposeful, efficient but almost gangly, as though he has gone through some kind of anomalous late-twenties growth spurt.
And so he has, maybe, a kind of emotional and intellectual growth-spurt brought on, somehow, by the twin actions of Jack's disappearance and return.
Sometimes, the confusing effect of those events on Ianto offends Jack's complex id with some oddly perceived slight: It was Gwen, even Owen, who'd pouted, shut him out, angered as a lover might be when they'd cared but been discarded too cavalierly. But, Ianto, the only one who deserved the label, had shown no resentment, had taken him back with no resistance or reserve.
Perversely, Jack wants Ianto to show some anger at him for walking away, disappearing without a trace, to demand from him an explanation he will not provide. Jack links this petulance in Gwen to lust for him, for his presence, and he wants that from Ianto, too.
Jack is greedy in his collections, as he is in many things, and he wants to catalog the emotional gamut, even the anger, along with the poses, the moral charter, all the great and small and irritating things that make up the essence of the man.
Though they do not know it, Jack is the archivist of the lives of everyone he loves, and he wants the minutia.
--
Jack watches Ianto rock back from the balls of his feet onto the heels, bring his hips into alignment and slightly forward, his left arm now across his chest and tucked beneath his right elbow, index finger still resting strangely on the tip of his nose.
Jack often wonders whether people ever realized how openly they betray their age, their experience, in the most subtle movements, in their everyday posture. For all he has been through, all his trauma, Ianto shows himself to be indescribably young to Jack, so new and bright it almost hurt to look at him sometimes.
It's those hips that do it; he doesn't realize how clearly their easy grace outlines his youth.
Funny how Ianto's age creeps out though the intimidating girth of his life's events. Ianto's experience has been... dense, if nothing else. Jack recalls an odd mixture of incredulity, surprise and annoyance: How can the fact of omnipresent death, of cannibals, of Jack's own betrayal coexist seamlessly with a wooden desk-come-electric chair, complete with life-like spit sound effects? And, Ianto still cries when he's really scared, fear which is always for someone else, never for himself.
This is something Jack cannot conceive of - he lives his life out-living everyone else, and he is constantly afraid of out-living the next one. There simply aren't enough tears to alleviate that sort of constant threat.
It must be the buoyancy of the human spirit, Jack supposes with some irony, and lately Ianto has been more buoyant than ever. He thinks it could be the result of trust, which Jack desperately covets and hordes and fears.
--
It's been all of three minutes, but Jack is starting to wonder what could be taking Ianto so long to work out, what he could be contemplating while he stands mostly still. Jack knows, without a trace of real vanity, actually, that he is himself much, much smarter than almost anyone gives him credit for, especially around Tosh and Owen. The underestimation works for him, though, coupled with the specific projection of his looks, and he wastes no opportunity in exploiting both.
But, Ianto is different. Jack remembers when he was sickeningly underestimated, much to the detriment of everyone's safety. But, now Jack is in possession of the facts, and the shape of things is a little clearer: Ianto's mind is like a web, every piece of information connected to another, accessible within a context, from many angles, and very deeply known, each fact a small, detailed facet of some larger picture. It is something he doesn't think anyone realizes about Ianto but Jack, though no one makes the mistake of underestimating him anymore.
--
As if to prove Jack wrong, Ianto does not enact the scene which Jack has written upon the discovery of whatever answer he'd been searching for - though he had at least gotten head nod bit right. Instead, he transmits the information via chat and uncharacteristically loosens his tie, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his French blue dress shirt.
It's then Jack catches a glimpse of the white shell necklace that Ianto sometimes wears inexplicably beneath his impeccably tasteful suits, the one that actually drives Jack a little nuts with its cheapness and unclassifiable tackiness. He will choose not to remember that thing at all, later, when he reviews Ianto as beautiful as he is in this moment, in which he has chosen to turn, catch sight of Jack watching him, smile and walk toward him.
Jack will remember it, though, the ugly little thing that stupidly annoyed him and made him realize everything that was so beautiful in the man and one thing that wasn't, and this was why he loved him.
But, he won't say anything about either, the necklace or anything else, because he's pretty sure he's learned his lesson on both scores, and knows for a fact Ianto is smart enough to figure it all out, given time.
( Fic Index)
Author: jbs_teeth
Rating: G
Pairing: Ianto/Jack
Spoilers: None, zero, nada (um, unless you look really, really hard)
Notes: I wanted to write something happy, and though I actually don't think this is it, at least not in the tone I wanted it to be, I thought I'd post it anyway, in response to the Ianto love-fest going on over at Torchwood coffee. Not the best thing ever, but at least nice, you know?
Ianto leans into the workspace tabletop, left knee cocked slightly outward, right hip a touch tilted opposite to counter-balance, right index finger bent and resting oddly at the tip of his nose. This is the position Ianto takes when he is thinking, just one of the secret vignettes Jack alone notices, tracks and collects.
This pose is rarer, as Ianto's intellectual acuity seems to be increasing exponentially. Jack expects the pose will soon shift into motion: When Ianto does find the answer, he'll give an all-but imperceptible nod, then turn around, pushing himself into rising momentum, and run to Tosh with his new information.
Lately he is a study in movement, loose-hipped but purposeful, efficient but almost gangly, as though he has gone through some kind of anomalous late-twenties growth spurt.
And so he has, maybe, a kind of emotional and intellectual growth-spurt brought on, somehow, by the twin actions of Jack's disappearance and return.
Sometimes, the confusing effect of those events on Ianto offends Jack's complex id with some oddly perceived slight: It was Gwen, even Owen, who'd pouted, shut him out, angered as a lover might be when they'd cared but been discarded too cavalierly. But, Ianto, the only one who deserved the label, had shown no resentment, had taken him back with no resistance or reserve.
Perversely, Jack wants Ianto to show some anger at him for walking away, disappearing without a trace, to demand from him an explanation he will not provide. Jack links this petulance in Gwen to lust for him, for his presence, and he wants that from Ianto, too.
Jack is greedy in his collections, as he is in many things, and he wants to catalog the emotional gamut, even the anger, along with the poses, the moral charter, all the great and small and irritating things that make up the essence of the man.
Though they do not know it, Jack is the archivist of the lives of everyone he loves, and he wants the minutia.
--
Jack watches Ianto rock back from the balls of his feet onto the heels, bring his hips into alignment and slightly forward, his left arm now across his chest and tucked beneath his right elbow, index finger still resting strangely on the tip of his nose.
Jack often wonders whether people ever realized how openly they betray their age, their experience, in the most subtle movements, in their everyday posture. For all he has been through, all his trauma, Ianto shows himself to be indescribably young to Jack, so new and bright it almost hurt to look at him sometimes.
It's those hips that do it; he doesn't realize how clearly their easy grace outlines his youth.
Funny how Ianto's age creeps out though the intimidating girth of his life's events. Ianto's experience has been... dense, if nothing else. Jack recalls an odd mixture of incredulity, surprise and annoyance: How can the fact of omnipresent death, of cannibals, of Jack's own betrayal coexist seamlessly with a wooden desk-come-electric chair, complete with life-like spit sound effects? And, Ianto still cries when he's really scared, fear which is always for someone else, never for himself.
This is something Jack cannot conceive of - he lives his life out-living everyone else, and he is constantly afraid of out-living the next one. There simply aren't enough tears to alleviate that sort of constant threat.
It must be the buoyancy of the human spirit, Jack supposes with some irony, and lately Ianto has been more buoyant than ever. He thinks it could be the result of trust, which Jack desperately covets and hordes and fears.
--
It's been all of three minutes, but Jack is starting to wonder what could be taking Ianto so long to work out, what he could be contemplating while he stands mostly still. Jack knows, without a trace of real vanity, actually, that he is himself much, much smarter than almost anyone gives him credit for, especially around Tosh and Owen. The underestimation works for him, though, coupled with the specific projection of his looks, and he wastes no opportunity in exploiting both.
But, Ianto is different. Jack remembers when he was sickeningly underestimated, much to the detriment of everyone's safety. But, now Jack is in possession of the facts, and the shape of things is a little clearer: Ianto's mind is like a web, every piece of information connected to another, accessible within a context, from many angles, and very deeply known, each fact a small, detailed facet of some larger picture. It is something he doesn't think anyone realizes about Ianto but Jack, though no one makes the mistake of underestimating him anymore.
--
As if to prove Jack wrong, Ianto does not enact the scene which Jack has written upon the discovery of whatever answer he'd been searching for - though he had at least gotten head nod bit right. Instead, he transmits the information via chat and uncharacteristically loosens his tie, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his French blue dress shirt.
It's then Jack catches a glimpse of the white shell necklace that Ianto sometimes wears inexplicably beneath his impeccably tasteful suits, the one that actually drives Jack a little nuts with its cheapness and unclassifiable tackiness. He will choose not to remember that thing at all, later, when he reviews Ianto as beautiful as he is in this moment, in which he has chosen to turn, catch sight of Jack watching him, smile and walk toward him.
Jack will remember it, though, the ugly little thing that stupidly annoyed him and made him realize everything that was so beautiful in the man and one thing that wasn't, and this was why he loved him.
But, he won't say anything about either, the necklace or anything else, because he's pretty sure he's learned his lesson on both scores, and knows for a fact Ianto is smart enough to figure it all out, given time.
( Fic Index)