It was dark in the bedroom; the only light came from Ianto's alarm clock that currently read 3:02 AM/ He'd given up trying to sleep hours ago, and found himself content with merely watching the rise and fall of Jack's chest beside him. While he appeared to be fast asleep, Ianto doubted it. He rarely slept, and when he did, it certainly wasn't this soundly. He was no stranger to watching as Jack tossed and turned, likely plagued by some of the same nightmares that he had himself.
It had been a lovely evening, but Ianto couldn't shake the feeling that something was a little off. Maybe the lovely evening was why tonight felt off. He could almost feel something shifting in their – relationship? companionship? – and he wasn't sure if it was a change for the better or worse. All he knew was that he'd have moved heaven and earth just to see a smile on the older man's face. Oftentimes, he found himself wondering if that was enough.
When it came down to it, Ianto knew that Jack was always there to hold him and keep him safe – assuming he was ignoring that time he left with the Doctor, which he was. Who held Jack's hand? Who kept Jack safe? Ianto was only human, only mortal, and there was only so much that he could do. The fact was, he couldn't move heaven or earth. He couldn't protect him, and no matter how tightly he held on, he often couldn't quell the haunted look in his lover's eyes.
Jack shifted slightly in his sleep – though Ianto still wasn't positive that he was sleeping – and he withdrew his hand from the light touches it was giving Jack's arm. They were together now, and if Jack woke to Ianto's hand on his skin and the questioning look in his eyes, he was sure the other man would withdraw. He couldn't say that he blamed him. When you've lived for so long, and seen so much, it must be hard to let someone into something so damaged. It made sense, but it still killed him inside. He would have given anything to take Jack's burden upon his own shoulders; he had carried it alone for far too long.
Jack moved again, this time forward and against Ianto's body. His fingers touched the other man's cheek, and Jack pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder. "You're thinking too loud," he mumbled into his skin, eyes still shut tight. Maybe he had been sleeping after all. "Go back to sleep."
Ianto chuckled lightly and rolled onto his side, carefully enveloping the other man in his arms. "I'm sorry my thinking woke you up," he whispered. Jack's only reply was to nuzzle in closer.
It was amazing, he thought, these tiny moments where everything was right in the world. They were rare, and fleeting, but he reveled in them. A night like tonight was his favorite thing. After a long day of chasing down the newest rift creature, they had retired to Ianto's flat instead of the small bedroom beneath Jack's office. They'd had dinner, and he'd spent the evening listening to Jack's more entertaining stories of his time travel adventures.
It occurred to Ianto, as he watched Jack act out a daring escape from some alien hundreds of years in the future, that he really would do anything for the man in front of him. Anything at all. When he'd joined Torchwood Three, when he had sought Jack out, it had been to save Lisa. He had no idea that the man that he had been using would end up meaning so much to him. He watched Jack running about, with a smile etched across his face and stars in his eyes.
Ianto didn't let him finish the story. During a quieter moment in the tale, he'd asked Jack to come to bed. He made love to him as though his life depended on it, and Jack had drifted off soon after. Which led them to this moment, the clock reading nearly 3:30 AM, and Ianto still unable to sleep.
He had never meant for Jack Harkness to utterly consume him. There was just something about that grin, those lovely blue eyes, even that innate ability to literally turn everything into an innuendo, that made Ianto weak in the knees. That's when he realized what that shift was, that feeling that something was off – this was no longer casual. He'd known it for months, of course, but he'd been forcing that thought out of his head. He'd spent months telling himself to keep it cool, to not get in over his head, but he'd fallen.
Maybe it wasn't casual for Jack either, though. To be fair, there was nothing casual about the way Jack had hooked his ankle over Ianto's, or the way he fit perfectly in the other man's arms. There was nothing casual about this evening – not a single moment. He took a deep breath, careful not to move around too much.
"This is good, yeah? You and me?" He hadn't mean to actually ask the question out loud, and instantly regretted it. Maybe Jack would be sleeping again, maybe he wouldn't hear. His silent prayers faltered as the other man opened his eyes and met Ianto's.
"Yes."
No hesitation. His eyes burned with a fierce determination unmasked by sleep, practically begging for Ianto to understand everything that he was too afraid to say. And he felt it, a silent promise that he was in it for the long haul, and that this – whatever it was – was something important to him. One word, and it meant everything to him.
"Go back to sleep, Ianto."
Jack's voice broke through his reverie, and he smiled as the other man kissed him softly, and then settled back down. He closed his eyes, a contentment that had evaded him previously permeating his mind and body. He drifted off quickly then, wrapped in Jack's arms. This was good.