Waking to Live - Chapter 10
by Gracefultree
A/N: Good morning, lovelies! Here is the chapter you've all been waiting for: Jack and Ianto meet in person again. This is in Jack's pov. As always, read, enjoy, and if you like it, leave me feedback.
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Ianto is sitting in the window of the cafe he chose for our date, writing in his diary. He's been there for about an hour. I resisted the urge to find a CCTV to read over his shoulder. If we're going to have a relationship, a real relationship, one that's not based on lies, I need to prove that he can trust me, that I won't violate his privacy on a whim. Of course, he might not remember I did that.
Then again, he might.
I have no idea if he was telling the truth on the phone when he said he couldn't remember. I hope he's not lying to me.
He said he's been in therapy. That's a good thing. I made the choice not to monitor his progress after getting his letter and writing my own, so I didn't know that he stuck with it the first six months. Owen knew, he said. He'd been watching from afar, just to make sure Ianto was doing all right. His penance for doing what he did under Suzie's influence. He hasn't read Ianto's therapist's notes, so he doesn't know what Ianto's been talking about, but I can guess.
Losing a month of memories. Lisa. His father. Me.
He's been working at a coffee shop around the corner from his flat. I did look that much up. I avoided the area when I was in London last month. I knew I shouldn't go near him if he didn't want me there, and I knew that it would be a struggle to resist kissing him if I saw him. I can only hope we kiss today.
Maybe a kiss will help him remember? Maybe coming to visit the Hub will help him remember? But he doesn't want to remember. Or, he's not sure if he wants to, that was clear from our last phone call. I guess I don't blame him, even if it wouldn't be my choice.
Then again, there's a big difference between two years and a month. If he'd lost two years, like I had, would he want to remember? Would he do everything he could to remember? I don't know.
He looks up and sees me as I'm crossing the Plass. I strut. I can't help myself, nor can I keep the cocky grin from my face. I have a date with Ianto after not seeing him for an entire year! He wants to see me, even though he doesn't remember me. It's got to be a good sign.
Our eyes meet and he offers me a tentative smile in return. He drops his pen into the diary and closes the cover, using the hand on it to support him as he gets to his feet. I sweep dramatically into the shop, winking at the owner behind the counter. She knows me, and that I've been waiting for a lover to return to me, and while I didn't alert her that my wait was potentially ending today, she can tell. She's already reaching for the tiramisu the cafe is famous for.
He's wearing a dark purple button-down with charcoal trousers and a matching waistcoat. His tie is that lovely burgundy of his sofa and those sheets he'd brought to my flat last year. Goddess, he's gorgeous! His hair is slightly longer than when I knew him, and the small curl at the ends is adorable. I can't wait to run my fingers through it. His smile gets wider the closer I get to him, another good sign.
Ianto takes a single step towards me and then he is in my arms and we are kissing, and kissing, and kissing, and he's got a hand on the back of my neck and the other clutching at my coat, I've got a hand in his hair, a hand on his waist, and the kiss goes on and on and we only break apart when Ianto notices the applause. The entire cafe is on its feet, clapping for us. Gloria, the owner, bustles over with the tiramisu and fresh coffee, saying, best reunion kiss in this cafe in years, Captain, this is on me.
He tastes fabulous, and the feel of his hair around my fingers is intoxicating. Goddess, this is going better than I expected.
Ianto's hard against me, and blushing a brilliant shade of red I'd never seen before. I think he's embarrassed.
"Get me out of here," he hisses, not looking at me, tucking his head against my chest, almost burrowing in to hide from the onlookers, even as he continues to hold his arms around me. Definitely embarrassed. Not that I blame him. If I weren't the exhibitionist that I am, I might have been uncomfortable, too. The embarrassment works in his favor, his erection going down, making his request easier to accomplish. I throw the strap of his carryall over my shoulder, scoop up his diary, and lead him out, keeping an arm around his waist, a path opening before us.
In the sunshine, he starts shaking, and I'm getting worried. Has he suddenly remembered everything? Did he not want to kiss me? It happened so quickly, and I have no idea who kissed who, just that we were kissing, so…
"Ianto?" I ask, testing the waters. We're smack in the middle of the Plass now, his arm around my waist, mine around his back, the other hand keeping his diary and carryall safe. He presses his free hand against my chest.
"Kiss me again," he whispers in a low, almost desperate voice, and I don't need to look at his eyes to know they're dilated with hunger and need.
The spark when our lips meet for the second time startles both of us, and before I know it we're drawing looks from the passers-by because we can't stop kissing. He whimpers and leans towards me when I pull my face away.
"I gotta say, darling, for someone who doesn't remember me, you sure know how to kiss me for maximum effect!" I tell him, pecking his lips before adding a few more to his cheeks and temples. He smiles shyly but is still too overwhelmed to say anything else. Both our chests are heaving from the kisses. "What do you say we take this indoors, hmm?"
"God, yes," he exclaims instantly, looking around for the first time since seeing me. The small crowd around us is gone, thankfully. "Which way to your flat?"
I laugh loudly, delighted, and drop another kiss on his lips. It was supposed to be quick, but we linger, getting a feel for each other again after a year apart. He kisses like he remembers me, but I can't be sure. I let go of him and take his hand, leading him away from the Bay. "Just a few minutes walk," I explain. "I have to leave the SUV with the others, anyway, in case something happens."
"They won't —"
"They're under strict orders not to bother me unless the world is ending."
"For how long?"
I shrug, my smile as bright as it's ever been. "Until morning."
"Why do I get the impression that your definition of morning and theirs might differ?" he asks drolly, raising an eyebrow.
"Know me so well already?" I wonder.
"Not yet," he answers, his voice suddenly more serious. "But I want to." We reach my building and I press in the code at the lift for my floor. He looks around. "Didn't expect this building," he finally says. "My diary only said a studio."
"I moved since we parted."
"Do you still live at work?"
"Yes," I admit. "But I wouldn't if we were together. I'd want to live with you, and you don't deserve to live at work. You're too special for that."
"You're assuming I'd work for you," he mutters. "That I'd want to live with you."
"I'm trying not to assume anything, but you've got to admit, that's the kind of kiss that can give a man hope!"
He grunts, but I see a small smile on the corner of his lips. We step into the waiting lift, and as soon as the doors close behind us, he's kissing me again. I break away from his lips to kiss his neck, behind his ear, along his jaw. He sighs, holding me close, body language telling me to continue. The bell on the lift pings for my floor and we get out reluctantly, though also with a shiver of excitement. He gasps, realizing we're on the top floor and that there's only one flat up here. I unlock the door and we walk in.
I bought this flat and furnished it with Ianto in mind. I decorated the living area in cherry and glass and slate. The kitchen is as modern as can be had in this century, with the coffee maker he bought me sitting in pride of place on the counter. Not that I've used it, mind. I tried a few times, and nearly set the kitchen on fire, somehow. I've been existing on Paradisia's coffee the last year. They opened the week after Owen took him back to London, replacing the mediocre place we tended to avoid unless absolutely necessary.
Ianto shoves me against the wall inside the doorway and kisses me hard. His bag and diary drop from my hands as I move to hold him. He moans, pressing himself full-length against me. We're both rock hard. When his hands slip inside my trousers and start caressing me with every bit of skill they learned last year, I can't hold back my groan. He might not remember me, but his hands remember, his lips remember. I grab his arse with both hands and squeeze. He makes a growling sound low in his throat and starts tearing at the buttons of my waistcoat.
God, I missed this! The scent of him, the feel of him, the little sounds he makes. But it's been a year, a full year, almost, and I have no idea if he's actually OK with this. Much as I hate myself for slowing us down, I have to do it. Ianto has a trauma history, and unlike the other first time he was in my flat, this time we both know it. I can't just let this go without talking about it, at least to find out if he's really OK with us having sex so quickly.
"Ianto," I gasp between kisses. "Slow down a sec."
He freezes. I open my eyes and meet his, which are wide with surprise and a little bit of horror.