A short drabble about Ianto Jones. Kind of relates to my tribute that I wrote. It's really sappy. You've been warned. This is my way of dealing with his death.
Never Compare
A hundred thousand coffees could never compare to the way Ianto brewed his.
A thousand million scents couldn't sweep him off his feet like Ianto's did.
A hundred pairs of bright blue eyes couldn't quite accomplish that sarcastic eye-roll that Ianto was so fond of
A thousand Welsh accents couldn't send the same shiver down Jack's spine as they whispered declarations of love.
A hundred million suits couldn't quite fit anyone the way they fit Ianto, perfectly accentuating every aspect of him, from his shoulders to his long legs and all that was in between.
And Jones, Ianto Jones, was the only being in any planet, galaxy or universe that could ever make Jack feel that maybe, just maybe, he was able to love again.
So, what'd you think? Please read and review.