Jack noticed the quiver begin in Ianto's lip before it traveled into his bones. They were slight tremors, off-set in time with the crescendo of far-away thunder. Jack loved the sharp little beat left by raindrops hitting the window and then rolling away. Obviously Ianto was not in that lot.
"What's wrong?" Jack moved his legs, giving Ianto a bit more room. Ianto didn't move closer, just stayed in his spot trying to control the sharp little movements.
"Nothing. There's nothing wrong." Ianto was a terrible liar these days. Correction, he could lie to everyone but Jack. It's like when someone sees your poker face. Once is usually enough.
"You're shaking. Is it the storm?"
Ianto threw his hands up. "It's not the storm I'm afraid of, Jack. I'm not a child!"
Jack didn't pry further, just pretended to engross himself in the movie. He felt Ianto move closer, felt strong arms move across his chest and the sighs of a Welshman whisper into him. Ianto slept using Jack as a pillow, remembering.
The thing was, Ianto wasn't afraid of the storm. He was afraid of the memories. It had only been a few years ago when a night like this one harbored one of their most fragrant experiences. Ianto remembered as he slept, almost as if it were an out of body experience.
The beach in Brittany offered the best viewpoint for the lunar eclipse. Lisa and Ianto were too excited to ignore the fact they wanted to go, even though she'd have to rush back for a test in the morning. Ianto himself wasn't dead set against the idea of camping, just hadn't really had it on the priority list. But Lisa had wanted the full experience and Ianto just couldn't seem to tell her no when she was that excited.
To be continued...
Prompt 70: Storm
Subtitle: The Infamous Camping Trip