I don't own Torchwood. I wish I did but I don't.
Ianto watched the girl they had brought back to his flat last night awkwardly gather her things. They avoided each other's gazes as she made her hasty retreat. He didn't remember her name; wasn't even certain that they had even bothered with introductions.
Jack was already in the shower and as he heard his front door close he felt a sense of dread at having to be alone with his thoughts. He momentarily debated joining Jack in the shower but dismissed the idea almost immediately. Recently being alone with Jack had become almost more painful than being trapped with himself.
Since Owen and Tosh had become casualties of Torchwood the remaining members of the team had alternated between clinging to each other and pushing each other away. Erecting walls and hiding behind facades.
Ianto heard the shower turn off and pretended to sleep. Jack entered the bedroom and Ianto could sense him standing by the bed, feel Jack's gaze on him. He willed his breathing to be even and forced down his desire to reach out to him. A long moment passed and finally he heard Jack dress and leave the room. When his front door slammed shut, Ianto felt a wave of relief quickly followed by an empty feeling that he didn't dare name. He pressed his head into his pillow and inhaled Jack's sent. He wasn't going to cry tonight.
