A/N: Hi guys. It feels like ages since i posted anything! So here's a new fic. Just a one shot but I hope i will be able to work up on something bigger soon. Ideas or any prompts that you'd like me to write would be welcome, 'cause I have a really big writer's block(the size of a brick wall :()
Anyways, here's the fic, read and reivew. I really appreciate some con-crit though some nice words would work as well and may motivate me to write more ;)
Disclaimer - I do not own Torchwood or any of the characters. they all belong to RTD and BBC. Though since RTD doesn't need Ianto anymore, I wonder if he'll let me have him.
Ianto was tired of these games Jack had been playing. Earlier, he had known that what they had - this thing that had started between the two men as a need - a primal desire to feel alive - he had known that it was just sex. Simple no strings attached kind of fucking coupled with a close friendship. Yes, Jack Harkness was one of his closest friends - he didn't have many to begin with. They had developed a strong kinship due to the fact that they had both loved and lost. They could sit together for hours and keep talking - sharing, advising, helping.
One day, when while talking, they got into a friendly argument which led them to punch each other, pin each other down on the floor and roll - fighting for control. Laughing, they had settled to lying on the floor, looking at each other. That was when Ianto had closed the distance between the two. A kiss different from any other he'd had - it was passionate and intense and yet devoid of any of that cruel emotion called love. How they ended up in Jack's bunk bed that night - it was all a blur to the Welshman. They continued these sessions in the future - it seemed quite natural - it reminded them both that they were still alive and kicking - and well, fucking.
But then one day, Jack gave him that stopwatch - nothing fancy, a simple silver stopwatch (simple but beautiful) since his old one broke down the previous day. But it was strange - to receive a new one from Jack.
"You shouldn't have," Ianto had protested. "After all it wasn't your fault that it fell."
"Come on Ianto, it's okay. I just saw it in the store and knew that I had to buy it for you, like it was made just for you," the immortal had answered.
That however wasn't the end. Jack took to getting little somethings for the Welshman every now and then. Never anything too big, but always well thought of - a collector's edition of a book he liked, a tie he had been eyeing at the mall when they went to track down an alien there, a box set of James Bond DVDs and so on.
Ianto could have accepted it, had it not been the doe-eyes Gwen gave Jack and the immortal's reaction to them. When Jack took to brushing his hand against Ianto's for brief moments when they had company, Ianto was not sure what Jack wanted now. Fucking he could understand and maybe he would have understood the courting as well had it not been for the looks Gwen and Jack shared. How could he be supposed to respond to Jack's advances unless he knew for sure that it was what Jack actually meant.
So, he adopted an indifferent approach. When Jack looked at Gwen, he made a point to ignore it but when Jack looked at him and smiled, he did not refrain from returning the warm smile himself. For a while, Ianto felt this would do. He had sex with Jack, held him at night when Jack felt lonely, sat with him and held his hand when the immortal was all by himself, introspecting, brooding.
However, it was the night after their trip to the countryside when Ianto realised the truth. As Jack tended to his injuries, pulled him into a hug and muttered incoherencies into his ear, Ianto knew that there weren't any games involved anymore. He might go out and flirt with everything that breathed but in the end, it was him that Jack held at night when the nightmares came.