Fic: Boeshane
Title: Boeshane
Rating: R for rude words and vague mentions of sexin'
Characters/Pairing: Jack, Ianto, Jack/Ianto
Spoilers: None really. Uses information we learn from Adam though.
Disclaimer: Don't own it blah blah.
Note: Written for Day Six at redismycolour. For the lovely sazzat because I know she loves an angsty Jack.
Word Count: 657
Summary: Jack allows himself to remember Boeshane, and Ianto is there to hold him afterwards.
Boeshane
Jack didn't let himself think about Boeshane too often, but when he did he surrendered his whole being to the memory - let it wash over him gently like the sand in the breeze. Most of the time he chose not to remember, because the memory was too painful. Still raw in his heart after so many decades away from the place.
He'd been happy there, with his parents and brother, frolicking in the sand dunes of his childhood. Despite the constant threat of invasion, Jack and Gray were allowed to be innocents. It was something their parents insisted upon, and Jack now knew that it was so they could enjoy their careless childhoods while they had the chance. He wanted more than anything to thank them for that, but he was here, stranded three thousand years in the past. Just a lost little Boeshane boy, trying to find another home for himself.
Sometimes, during the long nights, Jack closed his eyes and saw Boeshane as it was before the creatures invaded - it's golden sands shining in the afternoon sun. Jack and Gray would play in the dunes all day, playing tag and catch and hide and seek, sometimes their parents would join them with an impromptu picnic. Jack always used to beg his father to pick him up and spin him around, like a space ship soaring through the stars. He'd squeal and Gray would tug on their father's trousers, desperate to join in the fun. Franklin always indulged him, he could never say no.
After the invasion, Jack and his mother joined the other refugees in the journey to a new world, alone. Jack remembered being torn apart from Boeshane even now. His mother had barely been able to look at him, and Jack just curled up on the punishing floor of a too cramped storeroom (which was being used as travelling accommodation for the refugees, the people who'd managed to escape the invasion) and cried. For everything he'd lost.
Thinking back, Jack realised that he'd known nothing of true loss then. And it was only just beginning. There was so much waiting for him over the horizon, and he was nowhere near ready for it.
It wasn't uncommon for Jack to fall asleep during these little trips to his past, it was the only time he really slept with a smile on his face (or so he'd been told). These memories weren't always good ones, however - sometimes Ianto was forced to wake him. Jack would be dragged, kicking and screaming, out of the memory and back into his dreary sleeping space. Ianto would lean over him, gazing down with concerned eyes. Jack could often think of nothing else to do other than kiss the pain away. Ianto wasn't happy to forget about these little episodes, and Jack knew that fucking the pain away was unhealthy, but it helped. It was bliss to forget, even for a few moments. He'd always wake up the next morning feeling like shit and tell himself it wouldn't happen again (he wouldn't let it the next time) but it always did. The inevitable deeper feelings he was starting to have for Ianto only intensified Jack's guilt.
On these bad nights, Ianto took control, always sensing the need to. It felt amazing to let someone else take control of him, his body and his pleasure. When Jack came, he'd let out a strangled sob and Ianto would hold him. But it only reminded Jack of the countless times he and Gray had clung to each other in the safety of a warm bed during Boeshane's frequent sand storms. Jack would shush Gray to sleep, soothing noises to cover up the howling wind outside the window. But Jack let Ianto hold him, always.
Two lost souls clinging together in the dark, a Boeshane boy and a boy from twenty first century Newport making the most of what they have. Together for now.
Notes: I hope my Jack doesn't come across as using Ianto, because that really wasn't my intention. He just feels guilt for taking comfort in him, I suppose, like he shouldn't be giving Ianto that burden. Even though I think Ianto would gladly take the burden from him if he could. I am actually really pleased with this one, came out better than I expected.
Rating: R for rude words and vague mentions of sexin'
Characters/Pairing: Jack, Ianto, Jack/Ianto
Spoilers: None really. Uses information we learn from Adam though.
Disclaimer: Don't own it blah blah.
Note: Written for Day Six at redismycolour. For the lovely sazzat because I know she loves an angsty Jack.
Word Count: 657
Summary: Jack allows himself to remember Boeshane, and Ianto is there to hold him afterwards.
Boeshane
Jack didn't let himself think about Boeshane too often, but when he did he surrendered his whole being to the memory - let it wash over him gently like the sand in the breeze. Most of the time he chose not to remember, because the memory was too painful. Still raw in his heart after so many decades away from the place.
He'd been happy there, with his parents and brother, frolicking in the sand dunes of his childhood. Despite the constant threat of invasion, Jack and Gray were allowed to be innocents. It was something their parents insisted upon, and Jack now knew that it was so they could enjoy their careless childhoods while they had the chance. He wanted more than anything to thank them for that, but he was here, stranded three thousand years in the past. Just a lost little Boeshane boy, trying to find another home for himself.
Sometimes, during the long nights, Jack closed his eyes and saw Boeshane as it was before the creatures invaded - it's golden sands shining in the afternoon sun. Jack and Gray would play in the dunes all day, playing tag and catch and hide and seek, sometimes their parents would join them with an impromptu picnic. Jack always used to beg his father to pick him up and spin him around, like a space ship soaring through the stars. He'd squeal and Gray would tug on their father's trousers, desperate to join in the fun. Franklin always indulged him, he could never say no.
After the invasion, Jack and his mother joined the other refugees in the journey to a new world, alone. Jack remembered being torn apart from Boeshane even now. His mother had barely been able to look at him, and Jack just curled up on the punishing floor of a too cramped storeroom (which was being used as travelling accommodation for the refugees, the people who'd managed to escape the invasion) and cried. For everything he'd lost.
Thinking back, Jack realised that he'd known nothing of true loss then. And it was only just beginning. There was so much waiting for him over the horizon, and he was nowhere near ready for it.
It wasn't uncommon for Jack to fall asleep during these little trips to his past, it was the only time he really slept with a smile on his face (or so he'd been told). These memories weren't always good ones, however - sometimes Ianto was forced to wake him. Jack would be dragged, kicking and screaming, out of the memory and back into his dreary sleeping space. Ianto would lean over him, gazing down with concerned eyes. Jack could often think of nothing else to do other than kiss the pain away. Ianto wasn't happy to forget about these little episodes, and Jack knew that fucking the pain away was unhealthy, but it helped. It was bliss to forget, even for a few moments. He'd always wake up the next morning feeling like shit and tell himself it wouldn't happen again (he wouldn't let it the next time) but it always did. The inevitable deeper feelings he was starting to have for Ianto only intensified Jack's guilt.
On these bad nights, Ianto took control, always sensing the need to. It felt amazing to let someone else take control of him, his body and his pleasure. When Jack came, he'd let out a strangled sob and Ianto would hold him. But it only reminded Jack of the countless times he and Gray had clung to each other in the safety of a warm bed during Boeshane's frequent sand storms. Jack would shush Gray to sleep, soothing noises to cover up the howling wind outside the window. But Jack let Ianto hold him, always.
Two lost souls clinging together in the dark, a Boeshane boy and a boy from twenty first century Newport making the most of what they have. Together for now.
Notes: I hope my Jack doesn't come across as using Ianto, because that really wasn't my intention. He just feels guilt for taking comfort in him, I suppose, like he shouldn't be giving Ianto that burden. Even though I think Ianto would gladly take the burden from him if he could. I am actually really pleased with this one, came out better than I expected.