m_findlow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
m_findlow) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly2026-03-29 11:55 am
m_findlow) wrote in fandomweekly2026-03-29 11:55 am
Entry tags:
[#294] ALWAYS AND EVER (TORCHWOOD)
Theme Prompt: #294 - Pining
Title: Always and ever
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: PG.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Ianto can’t understand why it’s so difficult to move on.
Ianto’s eyes cracked at the sound of his alarm clock. It should have been set to radio, but instead he’d somehow managed to knock the switch all the way sideways, triggering the grating buzz and blare of the alarm tones which reverberated inside his head and made it hurt. He flailed his arm backwards and by sheer dumb luck managed to feel the plastic- coated device under his hand and give it a solid whack, silencing the offending noise.
He rolled back over and might have sighed but for the effort required. He couldn’t move all of a sudden. The alarm had jolted him awake mid-dream and now the only thing in his mind was Lisa. Just knowing that moments ago she’d been there, in his arms, her soft lips pressed to his, full of warmth and affection made him spiral into despair.
Scarcely a day had gone by that she hadn’t been in his thoughts at some point, and whilst he’d always just sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to carry on with whatever he was doing, right now he just couldn't. He knew he needed to get up and go to work. The team needed him to be there, even if it often felt like he was still invisible. He had a job to do – an important job – and yet he couldn't get himself to move. He just wanted to stay here in bed, letting the weight of it all keep him firmly pressed there, hoping that sleep might take him back to that place he and Lisa had once occupied in real life.
He wanted to go back to her hands pulling his shirt up so that they could touch him, the smoothness of her teeth as his tongue flicked over them, burying itself deep inside her mouth, and that way she so often whispered his name in his ear as they embraced one another, like he was the most important thing in her universe, reflecting the fact that she was likewise, the most important thing in his universe. He wanted to go back to all of that and more. He wanted lazy Sunday mornings on the sofa sharing a plate of toast, debating which of the terrible tv shows they should commit their evening to, or nights out with their workmates, getting smashed at the pub and making out in public on the grubby makeshift dance floor. He wanted weekends away, packing their small car boot with whatever they had, which would inevitably fall far short of any sort of properly equipped camping trip, but loving it all the same for the memories it produced of their ill-though out attempts.
Moreover, he wanted to take her back to his boyhood home and introduce her to his mum, who she knew would immediately approve and be pulling out the embarrassing family photo albums. He'd never gotten that chance. Lisa was just a name on a phone call, a grainy photo shared over lamb chops and mushy peas. He pined for the perfect wedding day they’d never share and the beautiful children they'd never raise, and the long years of knowing he wouldn't be alone in this world and that it was possible to be happy and joyful. All of it was gone, and no amount of lying in bed regretting that fact was going to change it, yet nonetheless he couldn’t bring himself to move. He pulled the covers up over his head and closed his eyes, letting the darkness surround him completely.
The dark silence lasted only moments before he heard a knock at his front door, followed by the sound of a large wad of keys jangling as one of them turned in the lock. Footsteps clunked in a slow deliberate rhythm down the polished boards and stopped at the entrance to the bedroom.
Ianto remained under the duvet. Perhaps if he didn't move, the figure would go away and leave him alone. Instead he felt the bed dip and the duvet carefully prised back, forcing the early morning sunrise outside to beat against his face.
‘Tough day, huh?’ Jack said gently without judgement.
Ianto blinked, finding the sudden assault of light hard on his eyes as Jack came into focus. ‘How did you know?’
‘You didn't immediately reply to my five am text message.’
Unable to quell his curiosity, Ianto reached for the phone on the bedside table, unlocked it and read the message. “Gonna need some of that one hour dry cleaning magic. Sorry.”
It was only now that he looked at Jack properly that he noticed he wasn't wearing his RAF greatcoat and had substituted it for that horrible tan-coloured bomber jacket. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, dropping the phone back on the table. ‘I must have slept through the beeping.’
‘It’s okay to still miss her, you know.’
Ianto’s face twisted in anguish. ‘Even when you've taken up shagging the boss?’
‘Especially then.’
He clutched the pillow and pulled it tight against his body, still unable to look Jack in the eye. ‘She’s gone. She's not coming back. I can't bring her back to life or make her human again or turn back time to before this all happened and I know that, so why do I still yearn to have her back? Why when I lo–’ he paused and swallowed, ‘...when I have feelings for you?’
Jack brushed a hand through his rumpled hair. Ianto hated himself for not doing more to flinch away from the reassuring touch. He remembered how much he'd loved to run his own fingers through Lisa's short hair, running them across her soft dark skin.
The bed rose again, Jack's touch receding. ‘Take the day off,’ he said. ‘Sleep, go for a walk, watch tv. Whatever you need to do. Just promise you’ll call me if it hurts too much.’
He buried his face into the pillow, tears stinging behind closed eyes. How to tell Jack it already hurt more than he could possibly imagine?
Title: Always and ever
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: PG.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Ianto can’t understand why it’s so difficult to move on.
Ianto’s eyes cracked at the sound of his alarm clock. It should have been set to radio, but instead he’d somehow managed to knock the switch all the way sideways, triggering the grating buzz and blare of the alarm tones which reverberated inside his head and made it hurt. He flailed his arm backwards and by sheer dumb luck managed to feel the plastic- coated device under his hand and give it a solid whack, silencing the offending noise.
He rolled back over and might have sighed but for the effort required. He couldn’t move all of a sudden. The alarm had jolted him awake mid-dream and now the only thing in his mind was Lisa. Just knowing that moments ago she’d been there, in his arms, her soft lips pressed to his, full of warmth and affection made him spiral into despair.
Scarcely a day had gone by that she hadn’t been in his thoughts at some point, and whilst he’d always just sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to carry on with whatever he was doing, right now he just couldn't. He knew he needed to get up and go to work. The team needed him to be there, even if it often felt like he was still invisible. He had a job to do – an important job – and yet he couldn't get himself to move. He just wanted to stay here in bed, letting the weight of it all keep him firmly pressed there, hoping that sleep might take him back to that place he and Lisa had once occupied in real life.
He wanted to go back to her hands pulling his shirt up so that they could touch him, the smoothness of her teeth as his tongue flicked over them, burying itself deep inside her mouth, and that way she so often whispered his name in his ear as they embraced one another, like he was the most important thing in her universe, reflecting the fact that she was likewise, the most important thing in his universe. He wanted to go back to all of that and more. He wanted lazy Sunday mornings on the sofa sharing a plate of toast, debating which of the terrible tv shows they should commit their evening to, or nights out with their workmates, getting smashed at the pub and making out in public on the grubby makeshift dance floor. He wanted weekends away, packing their small car boot with whatever they had, which would inevitably fall far short of any sort of properly equipped camping trip, but loving it all the same for the memories it produced of their ill-though out attempts.
Moreover, he wanted to take her back to his boyhood home and introduce her to his mum, who she knew would immediately approve and be pulling out the embarrassing family photo albums. He'd never gotten that chance. Lisa was just a name on a phone call, a grainy photo shared over lamb chops and mushy peas. He pined for the perfect wedding day they’d never share and the beautiful children they'd never raise, and the long years of knowing he wouldn't be alone in this world and that it was possible to be happy and joyful. All of it was gone, and no amount of lying in bed regretting that fact was going to change it, yet nonetheless he couldn’t bring himself to move. He pulled the covers up over his head and closed his eyes, letting the darkness surround him completely.
The dark silence lasted only moments before he heard a knock at his front door, followed by the sound of a large wad of keys jangling as one of them turned in the lock. Footsteps clunked in a slow deliberate rhythm down the polished boards and stopped at the entrance to the bedroom.
Ianto remained under the duvet. Perhaps if he didn't move, the figure would go away and leave him alone. Instead he felt the bed dip and the duvet carefully prised back, forcing the early morning sunrise outside to beat against his face.
‘Tough day, huh?’ Jack said gently without judgement.
Ianto blinked, finding the sudden assault of light hard on his eyes as Jack came into focus. ‘How did you know?’
‘You didn't immediately reply to my five am text message.’
Unable to quell his curiosity, Ianto reached for the phone on the bedside table, unlocked it and read the message. “Gonna need some of that one hour dry cleaning magic. Sorry.”
It was only now that he looked at Jack properly that he noticed he wasn't wearing his RAF greatcoat and had substituted it for that horrible tan-coloured bomber jacket. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, dropping the phone back on the table. ‘I must have slept through the beeping.’
‘It’s okay to still miss her, you know.’
Ianto’s face twisted in anguish. ‘Even when you've taken up shagging the boss?’
‘Especially then.’
He clutched the pillow and pulled it tight against his body, still unable to look Jack in the eye. ‘She’s gone. She's not coming back. I can't bring her back to life or make her human again or turn back time to before this all happened and I know that, so why do I still yearn to have her back? Why when I lo–’ he paused and swallowed, ‘...when I have feelings for you?’
Jack brushed a hand through his rumpled hair. Ianto hated himself for not doing more to flinch away from the reassuring touch. He remembered how much he'd loved to run his own fingers through Lisa's short hair, running them across her soft dark skin.
The bed rose again, Jack's touch receding. ‘Take the day off,’ he said. ‘Sleep, go for a walk, watch tv. Whatever you need to do. Just promise you’ll call me if it hurts too much.’
He buried his face into the pillow, tears stinging behind closed eyes. How to tell Jack it already hurt more than he could possibly imagine?