In Sickness and in Health (4/5)
Jack was woken by the relentless onslaught of rain hammering against the window. Sighing, he glanced over at where Ianto was curled neatly on his side of the bed, his back to the Immortal; the evenness of his breathing indicating that he’d finally drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
Carefully, so as not to wake him, Jack shifted closer; gently resting the back of his hand against the Welshman’s flushed cheek and forehead, gauging his temperature. Unfortunately, this was enough to make Ianto stir and shift position; turning his head away from Jack’s invading touch.
“Shh,” soothed Jack, smoothing the young man’s hair back and lightly kissing the heated curve of his neck as he had throughout the night.
When he was sure the boy wouldn’t wake again, he slipped silently out of bed, tucking the duvet round his shoulders and kissing his overheated temple. Even in illness, Ianto was beautiful mused Jack, picking up the sick bowl and emptying it down the toilet before washing it out and replacing it ready to be used again. He then dug out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from his half of the wardrobe and put them on; all the while keeping an eye on Ianto in case this small amount of noise should wake him.
Satisfied the man was still deeply asleep, he moved into the kitchen where he raided the cupboards for breakfast stuff that would hopefully alleviate some of Ianto’s sickness.
Ten minutes later, Jack had managed to make more toast and eggs without the smoke alarm going off once and was hunting for a glass when a sleepy voice interrupted his hunter gathering; “above the sink.” Turning round, he saw Ianto leaning in the doorway; his hair sticking up at odd angles where he’d slept on it, a shadowed, almost haunted look in his eyes; the result of a nightmare not quite forgotten.
“Hey, what you doing out of bed?” murmured Jack softly, coming over to the young man and cupping his fevered cheek, stroking it lightly.
Ianto shrugged, glancing away, “just wondered where you were,” he mumbled, his voice betraying his insecurities.
“You know I would never leave you, don’t you?” said Jack soothingly, pulling the young man close and kissing his hair reassuringly. Ianto hesitated before nodding against his shoulder, turning his head away from Jack’s concerned gaze and tightening his hold, inhaling the Immortal’s unique scent.
“Ianto, look at me,” commanded Jack softly, picking up on the young man’s hesitancy and moving Ianto’s chin so he was facing him, “I would never leave you; not now, not ever and especially not when you’re ill. You have my word okay?” he said gently yet firmly, moving in to kiss him chastely on the lips; conveying all the love and affection for the man that had saved him so many times yet still didn’t feel deserving.
”Trust me,” he breathed against his lips.
“Always,” murmured Ianto, returning the kiss, finally relaxing against Jack’s solid form.
“Good boy. Now why don’t you go and sit down okay?” suggested Jack gently. Ianto nodded tiredly before going and sitting at the table, resting his head on his folded arms and closing his eyes.
It was no wonder he was being plagued with nightmares; he didn’t have the energy to keep the barriers up that kept them up. It wasn’t fair but Jack hoped to instil in him the fact that he was there for him no matter what so Ianto wouldn’t feel the need to hide as much.
“Voila,” said Jack, putting a plate of eggs and toast in front of the young man and sitting down beside him. Ianto groaned and turned his head away, burying his face further into his arms.
Jack sighed, “Sweetheart, you need to eat,” he murmured, his fingers lightly threading in the boy’s soft hair.
“I’ll just throw it up again,” mumbled Ianto sleepily.
“Yes but at least you’ll have something to throw up and it’ll be less painful when you do,” said Jack patiently, his fingers moving down to caress the warm nape of his neck. The young man made a non-committal noise.
“Do it for me,” implored Jack softly, kissing the curve of his neck.
Ianto sighed and nodded before slowly sitting up, his head propped up on his elbow as he reluctantly attempted to eat.
“Thank you,” murmured Jack, stroking his arm affectionately.
“How d’you feel?” he asked, tucking a lock of hair behind the Welshman’s ear.
Ianto just looked at him wearily, “like I’ve done ten rounds with a Weevil and lost,” he mumbled.
“You’re burning up as well,” murmured Jack sympathetically, resting the back of his hand against Ianto’s forehead.
“People who are sick usually do,” said Ianto calmly, pushing the sleeves of his t-shirt up in a vain attempt at reducing his temperature.
Jack just rolled his eyes at Ianto’s blasé attitude. “Right, there is no way you’re going into work tomorrow.”
“But-“
“No buts,” said Jack firmly, resting his fingers against Ianto’s lips, “Gwen will be in tomorrow so she, Owen and Tosh will cover,” he said, his tone allowing no room for argument.
“If you’re sure…,” said Ianto, still not convinced.
“I am. Darling, you don’t look after yourself, that’s half the reason why you’re in this mess in the first place. You need to rest. Let me look after you,” murmured Jack gently, he didn’t just mean in sickness.
Ianto nodded, “I’d like that,” he said softly.
http://welsh-scotsman.livejournal.com/6413.html chapter three
http://welsh-scotsman.livejournal.com/7147.html chapter five