AN: So many people have written about how Jack reacted to 'the wedding', but what about Ianto?
SOMETHING BLUE
Quite frankly it was a relief to be home. Ianto quietly clicked his front door shut and locked it. Sighing he pulled off his coat and shoes and left them where they fell on the hallway carpet. It could only be Gwen that had made him feel so desolate and inadequate like she always did. Sometimes he really did hate her, but today, strangely enough it wasn't about Jack... well maybe it was. He sloped into his bedroom and yanked off his clothes dumping them in a bundle into the laundry bag to take to the drycleaners and then he went for a shower..... His neighbours would be moaning again, the water pipes in the apartment building sounded like the brass section of the philharmonic. He needed a shower to wash off the sweat and stench of a normal day at Torchwood. He sighed again yes normal, a bloody wedding he had had no intentions of going to.... Fuck! Bloody Gwen and her 'normal' life, she was as faithless as they got and that was what made him angry. Rhys was a good bloke. Ianto liked him a lot and had been sorely tempted to tell him about Gwen's affair with Owen. God, had he really become that spiteful?
The shower worked wonders on sore and aching muscles and frazzled nerves.
He was jealous, remorseful and he realised still grieving for the life he had lost when Lisa had died. Ianto hated weddings. He had managed to avoid his sister's by breaking his leg and when his mother re married he had simply not bothered to turn up, because her new man was nothing like his Father and Ianto, no matter how sweet natured he was could not support his Mam on the matter of her second husband. He'd run out on her six months later for the bint across street, half his age.
Ianto towelled himself dry somewhat roughly and scrubbed his teeth, not daring to look into his own eyes in the mirror. Five minutes later he was lying naked in bed, flat on his back and staring at the cracks in his ceiling. The image of Rhys' face as he noticed Gwen and Jack dancing was ingrained in his retinas. His look of mortification as his new wife gazed longingly into the eyes of another man, a man that gazed back with equal desire. Ianto had seen it all before, so many times. Jack was like that, he made everyone want him without even thinking about it, but Gwen. She should really have known better than to treat Rhys like that in front of all of his family and friends. Ianto decided he wasn't that spiteful after all. He closed his eyes imagining Lisa in her white gown with the silk blue bells woven into her ebony hair. His gut clenched and a sob escaped him, but he bit it back. He really didn't want to do this again. Maybe he wasn't as better as he thought he was.
He thought of his dance with Jack, a somewhat belated attempt on his part to rescue Rhys from his worries about what Jack wanted to do with his wife. Ianto wasn't about staking claims, he knew Jack would never be his, but Gwen was Rhys', she married him, for heavens sake. What had been strange about the dance was Jack's initial rigid stance, as if Ianto had smelt bad or something and he had almost stepped away from Jack in annoyance at the end of the song. But Jack had pulled him close, tightened his hold and whispered 'thank you' in his ear. Ianto spent the next song wondering what for. Right now he didn't much care. Gwen was tucked up in her honeymoon bed and Jack; well he was probably on some roof somewhere or shagging some stranger senseless.
Lisa. Her bridal gown was still in the wardrobe. Ianto had made it himself with her looking over it each step of the way, relishing every time she got to try it on for a new fitting. It had been the last thing Ianto had made, the only thing of hers he had not disposed of. The dress was not just about Lisa. Everything his Father had taught him had gone into that dress, from the soft fine crushed silk fabric, to the hand sown embroidered love heart neckline decorated with the finest delicate freshwater pearls. Ianto had spent nearly £3000 on the fabric alone, his Tad had always told him, 'for the woman you love only the very best would do.'. Ianto understood that truth better than most. His thoughts drifted to Owen and he wondered if the dead medic were remembering Katie this night.
So much loss, how were they not damaged beyond repair?
Ianto rolled over and flicked off the bedside lamp. He needed to at least try to sleep, the adrenalin was wearing off now and his head ached furiously down the left side, he was about to get up to get a glass of water when he heard a key in the front door lock. He was not remotely surprised when Jack crawled into his bed a few minutes later. However what did surprise him was the affectionate embrace he was held in as he drifted off to sleep without the exchange of words between them. More startling was the fact that Jack was still there holding him when woke up 7 hours later.
