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fandomweekly2025-12-28 08:32 pm
m_findlow) wrote in fandomweekly2025-12-28 08:32 pm
Entry tags:
[#284] HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS (TORCHWOOD)
Theme Prompt: #284 - Home for the holidays
Title: Home is where the heart is
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: PG.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Jack is right where he’s meant to be.
Jack woke from a dreamless sleep, feeling more rested than he had done in ages. When had he last not been plagued by nightmares or slept more than an hour? He always claimed he didn't need sleep, or at least less than most others, but it was merely down to the fact that sleeping for any period of time let the horrors in, slipping into his subconscious where they could torture him while he lay there defenceless. It was easier to survive on naps and caffeine and whatever his immortality could do in between.
Not last night though. He checked the clock on the table by the bed which read 8.30am. Still early but much later than he ever slept. The bed was warm, the sheets soft against his skin, and a pale wintry light seeping through the edges of the blinds, forcing morning into the bedroom. Ianto's flat for once didn't feel strange and unfamiliar but enveloped him in a comforting embrace.
Beside him, Ianto was still asleep, on his back, mouth hanging slightly open, breath clicking quietly as it moved slowly in and out. Jack moved gently, turning towards him, nestling into the pillow right next to his head, one arm draped across Ianto’s chest, palm resting over his heart where Jack could feel the steady rhythm of it beating beneath the thin fabric. At some point in the night Ianto had gotten out of bed and slipped on his pyjamas, either for added warmth or because he was unaccustomed to sleeping without them. Jack had teased him about it when he claimed he had no memory of doing it, leading Jack to claim that Ianto was the first person he’d ever met that sleep-dressed in the night. Jack didn't have the same problem, still as naked as the moment they'd collapsed against one another after some very passionate lovemaking last night.
The faintest hint of yesterday's cologne still clung to Ianto's jawline and Jack breathed in the scent of it. The ducted heating clicked on in one of its many early morning cycles, purring away and filling the room with extra warmth from the vents in the floor. The flat was otherwise silent, without so much as the swishing sound of cars passing by on the damp, not quite snow covered, roads below them. No one was slamming doors in the hallway outside or stomping across the tiled floors above them. All was calm.
Christmas day, Jack remembered. A day of the year that was altogether strange and familiar to him. He'd celebrated it a few times over the years, but not any time in the last three decades. It didn't hold the same significance for him. He enjoyed the lights and the decorations, the gift giving and general merriment, but even a hundred years of Christmases didn't have a hold over him the way it might have done to have grown up knowing nothing else. It passed by unremarked as he went about his day, just as he did every other day, except for the fact that he did so alone. He planned on doing the same today. There was always something at the hub that needed doing.
Ianto would have his family to spend Christmas with; the obligatory lunch and presents. Though he'd never admit it, he loved them dearly and would never renege on the tradition. He may not have known quite how to act around his niece and nephew – and he openly confessed his awkwardness at dealing with little people – but they were family, and Ianto would do his best to shower them with gifts and uncomfortable hugs. He wasn't ready to introduce Jack to his family, especially not at Christmas, and that was fine by Jack. Ianto was allowed to have one small bubble of normality where Torchwood didn't touch his life, just as he was allowed to have one small bubble where he and Jack could be together like this, away from judgement and expectation.
Ianto stirred and his hand found Jack’s pressed against his heart. He rolled onto his side, arms snaking around Jack as he pulled him in closer, eyes still closed. Jack kissed his lips as they came within an inch of his, unable to resist. He didn't care that they both had terrible morning breath, or that their faces were scratchy with unshaven stubble. Their hair was tousled, their bodies caked in last night's sweat and their eyes still gummed together with sleep. All those things only seemed to make Ianto more gorgeous in Jack's estimation. No one else got to see him like this, less than perfectly pressed in his suit, bright-eyed and buzzing with caffeine.
‘Merry Christmas,’ Ianto said, snuggling closer beneath the blankets, settling back into sleep whilst they still had time.
Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto's body, keeping him close. ‘Merry Christmas,’ he replied.
‘What time is it?’
‘Half eight.’
Ianto made a satisfied noise, exhaling deeply against Jack’s neck. ‘Don't have to be at Rhiannon's until noon.’ Still plenty of time to enjoy being here before their lives went their separate ways.
‘Want me to make toast?’ Jack offered. He could manage a full cooked breakfast if he had to but he didn't want to spoil Ianto's lunch with a full stomach. There was nothing better than breakfast in bed and a good cup of Ianto’s coffee clutched in his hand as they scrolled through the news, not needing to be anywhere. It was rare and precious to have a quiet moment like this.
Ianto buried his head in the space between Jack's collarbone and his jaw in response, eyes remaining closed. ‘I'm glad you're here,’ he murmured.
Jack took it as a no to breakfast and a yes to more snuggling in bed. It wasn't perfect, but it was as close to being home where he belonged as he could have hoped for. Christmas might not mean much to him, but being here with Ianto like this meant everything.
Title: Home is where the heart is
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: PG.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Jack is right where he’s meant to be.
Jack woke from a dreamless sleep, feeling more rested than he had done in ages. When had he last not been plagued by nightmares or slept more than an hour? He always claimed he didn't need sleep, or at least less than most others, but it was merely down to the fact that sleeping for any period of time let the horrors in, slipping into his subconscious where they could torture him while he lay there defenceless. It was easier to survive on naps and caffeine and whatever his immortality could do in between.
Not last night though. He checked the clock on the table by the bed which read 8.30am. Still early but much later than he ever slept. The bed was warm, the sheets soft against his skin, and a pale wintry light seeping through the edges of the blinds, forcing morning into the bedroom. Ianto's flat for once didn't feel strange and unfamiliar but enveloped him in a comforting embrace.
Beside him, Ianto was still asleep, on his back, mouth hanging slightly open, breath clicking quietly as it moved slowly in and out. Jack moved gently, turning towards him, nestling into the pillow right next to his head, one arm draped across Ianto’s chest, palm resting over his heart where Jack could feel the steady rhythm of it beating beneath the thin fabric. At some point in the night Ianto had gotten out of bed and slipped on his pyjamas, either for added warmth or because he was unaccustomed to sleeping without them. Jack had teased him about it when he claimed he had no memory of doing it, leading Jack to claim that Ianto was the first person he’d ever met that sleep-dressed in the night. Jack didn't have the same problem, still as naked as the moment they'd collapsed against one another after some very passionate lovemaking last night.
The faintest hint of yesterday's cologne still clung to Ianto's jawline and Jack breathed in the scent of it. The ducted heating clicked on in one of its many early morning cycles, purring away and filling the room with extra warmth from the vents in the floor. The flat was otherwise silent, without so much as the swishing sound of cars passing by on the damp, not quite snow covered, roads below them. No one was slamming doors in the hallway outside or stomping across the tiled floors above them. All was calm.
Christmas day, Jack remembered. A day of the year that was altogether strange and familiar to him. He'd celebrated it a few times over the years, but not any time in the last three decades. It didn't hold the same significance for him. He enjoyed the lights and the decorations, the gift giving and general merriment, but even a hundred years of Christmases didn't have a hold over him the way it might have done to have grown up knowing nothing else. It passed by unremarked as he went about his day, just as he did every other day, except for the fact that he did so alone. He planned on doing the same today. There was always something at the hub that needed doing.
Ianto would have his family to spend Christmas with; the obligatory lunch and presents. Though he'd never admit it, he loved them dearly and would never renege on the tradition. He may not have known quite how to act around his niece and nephew – and he openly confessed his awkwardness at dealing with little people – but they were family, and Ianto would do his best to shower them with gifts and uncomfortable hugs. He wasn't ready to introduce Jack to his family, especially not at Christmas, and that was fine by Jack. Ianto was allowed to have one small bubble of normality where Torchwood didn't touch his life, just as he was allowed to have one small bubble where he and Jack could be together like this, away from judgement and expectation.
Ianto stirred and his hand found Jack’s pressed against his heart. He rolled onto his side, arms snaking around Jack as he pulled him in closer, eyes still closed. Jack kissed his lips as they came within an inch of his, unable to resist. He didn't care that they both had terrible morning breath, or that their faces were scratchy with unshaven stubble. Their hair was tousled, their bodies caked in last night's sweat and their eyes still gummed together with sleep. All those things only seemed to make Ianto more gorgeous in Jack's estimation. No one else got to see him like this, less than perfectly pressed in his suit, bright-eyed and buzzing with caffeine.
‘Merry Christmas,’ Ianto said, snuggling closer beneath the blankets, settling back into sleep whilst they still had time.
Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto's body, keeping him close. ‘Merry Christmas,’ he replied.
‘What time is it?’
‘Half eight.’
Ianto made a satisfied noise, exhaling deeply against Jack’s neck. ‘Don't have to be at Rhiannon's until noon.’ Still plenty of time to enjoy being here before their lives went their separate ways.
‘Want me to make toast?’ Jack offered. He could manage a full cooked breakfast if he had to but he didn't want to spoil Ianto's lunch with a full stomach. There was nothing better than breakfast in bed and a good cup of Ianto’s coffee clutched in his hand as they scrolled through the news, not needing to be anywhere. It was rare and precious to have a quiet moment like this.
Ianto buried his head in the space between Jack's collarbone and his jaw in response, eyes remaining closed. ‘I'm glad you're here,’ he murmured.
Jack took it as a no to breakfast and a yes to more snuggling in bed. It wasn't perfect, but it was as close to being home where he belonged as he could have hoped for. Christmas might not mean much to him, but being here with Ianto like this meant everything.