Work Text:
Jack arose to the wind breathing its cool breathe against the crevice of his bear back. From the waist down, the blanket pooled around him; it coated his hips and legs in an all-consuming warmth, whilst the hairs on his shoulders shot upward over top of goose-bumps. Moonlight drifted from miles away; creeping inside the room through the cracks in the blinds as Jack shifted in attempt discover what had awoken him. The room was square, fairly basic and containing nothing of anything personal.
He turned over, groggily, expecting to see Ianto- hair drooped across his sleeping form, letting tiny snores (that almost replicated wheezes) drool from beneath his lips. He’d expected that sight, that sense of calmness to simmer in is chest at that sight. He’d expected to find the blanket, that was supposed to coat his chest and shoulders, to be drooped over the younger man, serving as a protective shield: fighting off the bitter, biting cold of eternal night. But as his eyes came into focus, and the realisation of the cold swarming his body set in, he stared blankly into the ianto shaped dent in the bed. He scanned the room, noting the open door and feeling to see if iantos side of the bed was still warm. It wasn’t.
Judging by the temperature, the younger man had been gone for at least the last 10 minuets. The light inching through the door seemed to be coming from the bathroom, not the living room, so there was a chance Ianto had gone to get a drink and accidentally fallen asleep in the bathroom while he was there. Jack hauled himself off of the bed, throwing on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, then exiting the room- rubbing his forehead as he let his eyes adjust to the light. He checked the bathroom first, switching the light off and closing the door as he couldn’t see Ianto anywhere; he then tumbled toward the living room, dragging his hands across the walls too try and force him up right and gain some form of balance. His sleep driven brain delayed his reactions, so as he clambered down the hall, tripping every now and then on the carpet, he only just registered the dim light coming from the front room.
“Ianto?” He asked, his voice slightly groggy and his fingers caressing the skin on his temples. His eyes where half closed as he stumbled toward the chair, adjusting to the light. The room was caught up in a fragile silence, Jack didn’t know how to react as he looked forward.
Ianto was there, head in his hands, his silhouette still, unmoving- vacant. Ianto must have heard jack call out to him, must have heard him mumble swear words as he stumbled through the hall way, but he didn’t move; he didn’t react to the door opening, or jacks foot steps. “Ianto?” He tried again, waving a hand in front of his face. Despite the dim lights, jack could make out the thin lines of Iantos eye lids, wide open and fixed on something on the table. He took another step toward Ianto, his concern overwhelming conjoined with the eerie creaking of the floor boards. “Ianto,” jack whispered, fully awake now but unknowing of what to do “I’m gonna put my hand on your shoulder now. Is that okay?”
No response.
Jack manoeuvred himself around the chair and placed himself beside ianto. Tentatively, he reached out his hand, letting the warmth of his blood circulating his hand seep into Iantos shirt- jack wanted ianto to feel him. He needed him too.
He still didn't answer, didn't say anything. But after a few moments, he leant back a minuscule amount- jacks body flooded with relief. It was tiny, so tiny that jack could have just convinced himself it happened to ease his mind, but he knew deep down if he was worried about ianto he wouldn’t try to trick himself into believing he was okay. Jack didn’t say anything, just left his hand on Iantos shoulder, reminding Ianto he was there. They sat in silence for ten minuets, jacks eyes never leaving Iantos frail frame. Jack knew it was ten minuets because he counted.
One Mississippi.
Two Mississippi.
“Jack,” Ianto choked out, his voice thick and broken. Jack studied him closer, edging him on, “I need,” he inhaled sharply, his eyes never moving from the table, his hands trembling beneath jacks, where he’d encased them to provide comfort. ”Take it.”
“Take what?”
“Take it away, please jack. Please take it, please.” For a moment jack thought ianto was hallucinating, having a dream or just having a panic attack. Maybe he’d had a nightmare and felt bad because he could have woken jack so he came into the front room?
Then jack saw it.
There, on the table, in the exact place Iantos eyes had scorched holes in, sat jacks webley; taunting them. It was staring at the two of them, glistening in a ray of moonlight, sparkling and calling out to ianto. “Please.”
Jack snapped into action, reluctantly tearing his hand away from Iantos back and seizing the gun. As jack removed it from its spotlight, the air became easier to breathe and Iantos lungs loosened. Jack ran back to the bedroom, the webley clutched in his hand. ‘Shit.’ He kept thinking, ‘Shit,Shit,Shit. Not him, please not him.’. He grabbed all his jumpers from the wardrobe and buried the gun deep in there, wishing he could break through the wood and trap it in limbo- never near ianto again. He wanted more than that, he couldn’t bear the idea that something in possession of himself could ever been a threat to ianto- he was enough of one. No item jack owned, no team member jack allowed, no food jack brought ianto could ever, ever, bring the man any harm. Bing around jack, constantly, was enough pain for one mortal man to have to handle and and jack could already see ianto tearing at the seams. Whilst ianto wore so many suits, jack often thought he was like one emotionally too: so beautiful, so well hand crafted, but just hanging on by threads, ready to unravel if you pulled to tightly, or hit the wrong spot- and like all things, they break eventually.
The gun couldn’t be buried deep enough, couldn’t be far away enough from ianto. But Jack no choice but to leave it there, and prey ianto didn't find it.
He stumbled into the bathroom, splashing water onto his face. A cunning smile crooned back at him as though whispering ‘you did this.’
“Jack?” Iantos horse voice called from in the living room.
“I’m coming, Ianto, just a minuet.” Jack replied, collecting himself and tearing away from his hunched over the sink position.
When jack returned to the room, he stood in the door way for a moment. He saw something delicate in front of him. Something that needed looking after before its wounds bled out- and he was there with stitches.
“Talk to me.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Anything.” Jack paused a moment, walking toward ianto and crouching in front of him. “Please,” A hand on his cheek, stroking over the bone “Just talk to me.”
“I don't want to die.” Ianto said, because he doesn’t. Plain and simple; Ianto jones doesn’t want to die. No matter how much shit gets thrown at him, how many weevils, how much blood stains his blazer or his waist coat, how many friends he has to see die in front of him with his hands helplessly shaking and his mind racing and his palms coating in sweat because ,oh god, not anoth-
Ianto Jones doesn’t want to die.
He’s just tired of living.
“I believe you.” Jack said.
“I don’t, i really don’t. I just came out here for a drink. I tried not to wake you because you looked so peaceful, so i got up to get a drink, just like water or something. Nothing interesting.”He looked up at jack- without looking at jack because he wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Then i saw it. And I- I just, it looked so... so alluring. I don’t know how it happened. One minuet i had a glass in my hand, the next i was, i was, just staring at it.”
“Deaths easy, you know. I believe you don’t want to die, because if you did you’d be dead. With our job you could die at any moment, couldn’t you?” Ianto nodded, a silent tear burning its mark into his skin. “But you don’t. Sometimes things just gets a little much.” Ianto made a non communal noise (a puff of air sort of merged with a chuckle) “And thats okay.” Jack said, sternly.
“Just don’t do anything stupid.”
“I know. When i was a kid, my dad used to have all this shit from his mates in the house, knives, pills, occasionally guns, and sometimes it all just comes flooding back. How shit the estate was, the cannibals, Lisa, mum and dad shout-, shouting all the time- it’s all just, all just, too much.”
“It’s okay.” Jack turned ianto to face him from where he was sat on the chair. He grabbed his face and lightly pressed his lips against iantos forehead; his lips relaxed iantos body, massaging the tendons buried deep in his skin. Ianto breathed out a sigh, chocking on the knots in his throat as he leant more into the touch. “It’s okay.” Jack murmured, realising his forehead.
“Yeah. Yeah, i know.”