Spoilers, spoilers, spoilers. This is my reaction to what happened on Thurs 9th and Friday 10th (Children of Earth Days 4 and 5). If you haven't watched it and don't wish to be spoilered, don't read.
Also, it is quite raw. But that is how I felt after the series. So, excuse the lack of polished finishes.
Comments, reviews here or at my Livejournal would be welcome.
Comfort
On the dead of the night, once again, Jack sneaks into his room, leaves his clothes on the floor and curls in bed beside him, body pressed oh so temptingly close to his, a hand over his waist. He pretends to be sleeping, like every night Jack has visited. Jack still murmurs Ianto's name in his sleep, four months after he called, ten months after his death. He refuses to be just a comfort fuck, a body that just happens to be handy and willing; he wants Jack, he always has. And he'll have him. But not like this. Not when neither of them would be thinking of here and now.
What would Ianto had made of them right now? He'd laugh, most likely, that rare laugh of his, sarcastic and honest. He'd probably wonder where his determination, his refusal, comes from. He'd mention that he, like Jack, comes from a time when knocking on a neighbour's door and asking if they'd be interested in a new bedroom partner for a while is no more offensive or uncommon that asking for a cup of sugar was in the days when everybody still knew who lived next door. Ianto would look all wide-eyed for a moment if he saw them now, like he always had while listening to some of his (and Jack's) most outrageous stories, but it wouldn't take him long to put it all in context, understand, and truly accept.
He misses the kid. He had found him interesting - not to mention drop dead gorgeous - since he first saw him at that quaint little bar, when he introduced himself as Jack's former partner and the hint of jealousy in Ianto's voice disappeared as soon as it flared. When Ianto stood his ground, even with a gun trained on him, refusing to go into the lift quietly, the jolt of pure want through his body had been so intense he vowed, there and then, to take him into his bed. With or without Jack. As soon as he found the time. He had other things in his mind at the time.
He pushes the memories away. He doesn't want to remember the thrill of the chase, the banter, the many times the look on Ianto's face told a completely different story to his words, when he had wondered who the kid was trying to convince that no, he had absolutely no interest whatsoever in Captain John Hart, thank you very much. As if.
He turns around, breathing in Jack's scent, ignoring the tears he knows are there. Jack places a soft kiss on his lips. He kisses back, all hunger and need for more, need for the sweet oblivion that comes with satisfying sex. Hands claw at him, here, there and everywhere. He traces Jack's jawline with his lips. He can't tell which of them is moaning. Probably both.
"Changed your mind?" Jack's question hits him square on the chest. He pauses for a second, a hand tracing idle patterns on Jack's belly. This isn't just a comfort fuck.
"Shut up." Jack is still mourning the loss of what he had. He's mourning the loss of what he had barely started to build with Ianto. He wants to snap back, to give Jack a snarky reply, but the words catch in his throat as he bites Jack's neck. Jack rolls him onto his back, his weight a comforting presence.
"You manners in bed are as atrocious as always." Memories flood his mind, only to be driven away when Jack kisses him again. This is familiar, easy, comfortable. The banter, the fight for control, takes him back. Not to happier times. Just to... different times. When he carried other wounds, and other names, and less history.
"Yours haven't improved either." With a well practised move, he sends Jack tumbling to the other end of the bed, and is on him before any of them has time to catch a breath. "Just make sure you cry out the right name, will you?" He nibs his way down Jack's chest, amazed at how his hands still remember Jack's body, and all those little places that make him moan and hiss in pleasure.
"Just make sure I'm... too far gone to say anything." Jack squirms, half fighting his hold, half surrendering to it. He bites just above his hip, and feels Jack let go.
"Happy to oblige." Eyes closed, he loses himself in Jack, all warmth and heat and presence and need. Blinking away the tears, he holds Jack close, as both of them pretend they are not crying, they are not mourning, they are not wishing Ianto was with them.
Part of him is grateful for having Jack back. Part of him curses that it took the death of Ianto Jones.
