Fairly Short, yeah, 1st Torchwood. Saddly Dead Ianto but kinda important point to make
Words: 466
Disclaimer -do not own the awesomeness called torchwood... saddly
Hearing his name muttered on his lips. In that beautiful welsh accent. Sometimes he wondered how one word could hold so much meaning, and then he would here his name whispered from soft velvet lips.
He had never met a man quite like him or a woman for that matter- Ianto was different. He didn't want presents, or sweet I love yous; he wasn't just in it of the exhilaration that came. It didn't just start from a really good one-night stand that didn't want to end, that happened quite often actually. There were probably other reasons why people had flung themselves into a relationship with him but he never had asked. He never asked Ianto either, maybe he would never know, maybe he didn't want to.
There was never anyone like Ianto and sometimes he wondered if there ever would be, then he stops himself. Would he really like to relive those moments with another being; every time flashing back to nights together of firsts -he thought there was none left- of whispers, of screams- it was hard to make him scream- and of so much else.
Ianto wore suits, something that had always been associated with high life and stuffy old men, that was until him of course. Now, suits were so much more and ties they were so, so very useful. His work was seemingly menial, yet with out him picking up, brewing tea, making coffee, keeping the gas tank full, Torchwood would fall into shambles.
He knew if he did die that Ianto would be there to watch over his body that was at least until he gasped for air again. He had asked before why he waited, but all he ever got was a quite laugh and a 'you should know'. That was he ever got, when he asked why me, or when he said I've never met anyone quite like you –that was a hard thing to say when you'd met so many people. When he said it after this it was always in-joke, but it hurt sometimes.
Ianto Jones one man he may never forget, he may forget the woman in the polka dot dress he had fallen in and out of love with in Bosnia in 3042,or the young man with the crooked teeth on that strange planet, year 5712 or the many others, but he would not forget Jones, Ianto Jones. Ianto with his handsome features, with his pinstripes suits, vests and those wonderful ties, with a welsh accent that could ring in your ears for days, and with his coffee machine that no other man could work.
*Thousands of years may pass but if he keeps no other promises to no other man he can keep one promise he will never forget that man.
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