Just Let it Heal
Torchwood
Just a short little oneshot that came to me while I was having a smoke. Slight Janto, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
This is my first attempt at Janto or Torchwood, please be kind in your criticism- JMS
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, except for a rather temperamental laptop.
Summary: Ianto keeps reopening old wounds, he can't seem to let them heal.
Ianto sat stiffly in a chair in Jack's office. The Hub was oppressively quiet, the other had gone home hours ago and Jack had called him up from the Archives for reasons he could only guess at. Reasons he didn't want to think about. Was this it? The end? How would he go about it? Retcon? Or the alternative. A small part of Ianto was hoping for the alternative. What method would Jack choose to deal with his broken teaboy? Painfully aware of the other man's gaze on him, Ianto fidgeted slightly. Unclasping his shaking hands he let the tips of his fingers run beneath his neatly fastened cuff. Blunt fingernails worried the chaffed patch of skin along his wrist; residual marks from the cold bite of handcuffs fastened too tightly and left on too long. Tiny specs of scabs caught on his nails and flaked off with a pleasantly sharp prick. The minute tug of the raw flesh grounded him. Soothed him. Large hands covered his and he jumped. Lost in his thoughts he hadn't realized the other man had moved. Pale blue eyes flicked up hesitantly and quickly focused back on the warm hands covering his. Gentle fingers splayed lightly across his own trembling digits and eased his hands apart. Slowly, gently, like a caress, those strong hands grasped his wrists and turned his own palms up. Insistent fingers pushed his cuff up his arm, smooth fabric painfully gliding over the sensitive skin of his abused wrist. His eyes shot up again and locked with a pair of equally blue pools, suspiciously bright in the soft light of Jack's office.
Ianto drew in a shaky breath, "Sir?" his gaze was uncertain and briefly flicked back to his exposed wrists. Jack leaned down and lightly brushed his lips against the tender skin. Velvet lips gently caressed bruises and soothed stinging scrapes. Jack drew back from Ianto's wrist, clasping the younger man's hands protectively in his own. "Just let it heal Ianto, you need to let it heal." Ianto's heart was pulsing in his ears, his eyes stung and his throat was painfully tight. Struggling to swallow past the aching lump in his throat, he bit his lip as his eyes betrayed him and let loose a stream of tears. They burned as they fell down his pale cheeks and followed the contours of his jaw. With a strangled wet sob, a sudden exhalation of the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding Ianto gave over to the pain and slumped against Jack's warm chest. His own cold fingers grasped the back of his Captain's neck, threading through his soft hair, as he buried his face in Jack's shoulder and sobbed. His shoulders heaved, his breath caught, his eyes watered and he was sure he was drooling a little; it was completely undignified, but it felt perfect.
R&R plz
