AN: I know this is random but I was dressing a cut on my arm at night one time when I was suffering from a lack of sleep and this scene just appeared to me.
Ianto sat silently while Jack pulled the things he needed from his bag. Ianto didn't even look up as Jack knelt in front of him and took up his limp arm in gentle hands. Neither man said a word while Jack wiped an antiseptic wipe over the gash. Ianto stared at it, seemingly absorbed in the glistening bright red beauty that such pain produced. Jack unconsciously sighed as he picked up a soft square of cotton wadding. He pressed it against the small wound. A patch of red appeared within seconds and languidly spread. Still in silence, Jack held Ianto's skinny arm firmly in one hand and took the crepe bandage with the other from the floor. He placed the end on the red patch of cotton and wound it once around the arm. Ianto still watched in a quiet daze. Jack passed the bandage between his hands a few times, over and under, pulling it tight while always keeping a few fingers on the cotton to keep it in place. He got a steady rhythm going, wrapping the long white strip up and down. He reached the end and pulled it tight. With one hand clamped around Ianto's bandaged arm, he grabbed a safety pin. Jack open the pin with his teeth. Ianto didn't stir as it was pushed into the fabric. He felt a slight scratch as the end found skin but showed no sign of it. Ianto's mind reeled off on contemplations of that sharp sensation which hadn't exactly hurt while Jack closed the pin and settle the limp arm back on Ianto's knee. Jack studied Ianto, Ianto studied his encased arm. They sat in silence for time measured by throbbing heartbeats and loud breaths. Then, for the first time since he had found him, Jack spoke. "Ianto…"