Chapter Forty
This chapter's shorter than usual, for some reason, but I hope that you like it all the same!
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own.
Jack hovered behind Ianto as he carefully lowered his 'candle' into the first vat of hot wax, watching his every movement like a hawk.
Ianto dipped it into the cold water, before turning to look at Jack. "What colour next?"
"Red," Jack suggested. "It's your colour."
Ianto dunked it into the red vat, back into the cold water, then into the red again. "How many coats are there in total?" he asked the candle-maker.
The candle-maker shrugged, pushing his glasses back up his nose again. They seemed to have a habit of slipping down. "Sixty-four or so."
Ianto raised an eyebrow. "That's a lot."
"Tell me if you want a rest," Jack said immediately, "and I'll finish it for you."
"I'm fine, Jack," Ianto said, slightly irritated by his fussing. "Why don't you do your own?"
Jack blinked. "I'm meant to be helping you," he pointed out.
"I don't need any help," Ianto retorted. "I can take care of myself, you know."
"Sorry," Jack said quietly, "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"
"Just a little bit." Ianto dunked the candle into the vat again, more savagely that intended. Hot wax splashed across his hand.
Jack was instantly there, shoving his hand into the cold water vat. "Tell me when it stops hurting," he ordered, anxiety etched into his features as he watched him.
Ianto bit down on his bottom lip, tears having sprung to his eyes in pain. "It hurts."
"I know it does," Jack soothed. "Come on, don't cry on me."
"I'm not going to cry," Ianto snapped.
Jack said nothing, just drew Ianto's hand out the vat again and started pulling at the wax. He hissed as it burnt his fingers, but didn't stop until every scrap was off Ianto's hand.
The candle-maker handed him some burn cream. "Smooth this on, and then we'll see if it needs a bandage."
Jack brushed a gentle kiss across the sore, reddened skin, before dabbing on the cream with practiced fingers. "There we go. Lets get a bandage on this now."
Ianto snorted. "Great. Katie's going to kill me."
"She'll kill me, you mean," Jack said. "Very slowly, too." He unwound the bandage from its roll and carefully wrapped it around Ianto's burnt hand.
"That'll be interesting to explain when you wake up," Ianto said. He blinked back tears. "I'm not very good at taking care of myself, am I?"
"That's what I'm here for," Jack said, knotting the bandage. "There – that better?"
Ianto managed a tight smile. "Yeah. Can you finish off the candle?"
Jack raised an eyebrow. "I'm taking you straight home," he said.
"But—"
"No buts," Jack said sternly, "at least, not that sort." He grinned.
"Jack, please." Ianto tucked his hand in his jacket pocket. "I want this candle to be finished."
"Why is it so important?"
"It just is." Ianto pulled a face. "Please."
Jack hesitated. "If you're sure…"
"I am."
Jack shook his head. "Fine."
Ianto smiled, and leant back against the wall. "Thankyou."
Jack shook his head, rolled up his sleeves, and got down to work.
-T-
"I'm hungry," Ianto said as they emerged from the candle-workshop, blinking in the bright afternoon sunlight.
Jack checked his watch. "I'm not surprised – it's nearly half-one."
"Lunch seems to be in order, then," Ianto replied. "Shall we catch the bus back into St Peter Port and have something to eat there?"
"Sounds like an idea," Jack agreed, putting a hand in the small of Ianto's back and steering him down the lane to where the bus was, luckily, already waiting. "Chips?"
Ianto considered. "I actually want a salad," he admitted, "if that's okay?"
Jack stood back to let him on the bus. "No problem."
The driver, a spotty youth in his early twenties with mousy-coloured hair gelled into spikes, held out his hand. "Money, please," he said, sounding infinitely bored.
Jack rooted around in the pockets of his greatcoat and handed him a five-pound-note. "Keep the change," he said, already following Ianto to the back of the bus.
"Hello again," a delighted voice said.
Ianto turned around, eyebrows rising in surprise when recognized the mother from before, this time minus children. "Hello," he responded.
"Looks like you took my advice, then," she said. "Sitting at the back."
Ianto blushed, and gestured at Jack. "We're just going to get some lunch back in St Peter Port," he said.
She narrowed his eyes at his bandaged hand. "What have you done to your other hand?"
"Candle making," Ianto said with a grimace.
She shook her head. "Bad?"
"No," Ianto shook his head, "Jack looked after me."
She smiled at Jack, who grinned back in his usual mega-watt way. "That's good to know."
They fell into an awkward silence, unsure of what to say. Jack cleared his throat uncomfortably a few times, as if he was about to speak, then thought better of it and stayed silent.
Ianto shifted in his seat. Beneath the cast, his left arm was itching, and his burnt hand had begun to throb.
Without saying anything, Jack put a hand on his knee and gave it a comforting squeeze. His face was unusually open; Ianto felt a warm glow in his veins, tingling up his spine and pooling in his stomach. Without really thinking about it, he shifted in his seat so that he could lean against Jack, despite the bulky cast making things difficult.
"You okay?" Jack murmured, breath warm against the side of Ianto's cheek. He slid his arm around Ianto so that his hand rested on Ianto's stomach.
The bundle of warmth inside Ianto grew just that little bit and the pain in his hand lessened slightly.
"Fine," Ianto said, his voice just as low as Jack's. Despite the fact that they were sitting in a bus full of people, this position felt strangely intimate and private. It was, Ianto thought, like the sort of thing you'd see in a (bad) romantic film, with the beautiful guy falling for the beautiful girl and love triumphing over all at the end.
Ianto knew that life wasn't like that and he most certainly disliked comparing what he and Jack had with a (bad) romantic film, but, as he sat at the back of the bus with Jack close beside him, he couldn't help but hope that they might somehow get part of that happy ending. As far-fetched as that hope might be, it was the one thing that kept him going.
Well, that and the fact that once he was gone Jack and the team would have to get by on the substandard coffee from Starbucks. That wasn't a thought Ianto liked to entertain.
The bus slowed, drawing to a halt at their stop. Jack didn't seem to be planning on standing up and getting off, so Ianto elbowed him.
"What?"
"This is our stop, Jack." Ianto rolled his eyes and stood up, staggering slightly as the bus stopped. Jack muttered something under his breath and followed him off the bus, his hand in the small of Ianto's back.
As they started along the waterfront, the sunshine of earlier transformed into menacing grey clouds above their heads, Ianto recognized the warm feeling for what it was: Happiness.
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