Torchwood Fan Fiction: Damn Ianto Jones

Title: Damn Ianto Jones
Author: Published as Finn AUS
Pairing: Jack/Ianto,
Rating: PG-13 Tiny mention of bedroom relationships
Summary: A little Jack internal thoughts time.
Spoilers: Just general Season 2 Jack/Ianto togetherness
Disclaimer: Yes, yes, we know BBC own them, John Barrowman, Gareth David-Lloyd inhabit them – and how well does GDL inhabit!
Feedback: OH YES PLEASE, seriously love it!
Author Note: This is a little Jack internal thoughts rambling. A few comments from people got me thing about how we’ve never seen Jack express his feelings for Ianto, well he doesn’t have to say it people! He can think it.

You don’t see it. You barely understand how you end up in my bed each night. It started as something to ease the pain, for both of us, for different reasons. A rage still burned in you, and often, in the beginning, it expressed itself toward me. I don’t blame you, in fact I welcomed it on some occasions.

A different pain greeted me upon my return, an anger I wasn’t expecting, I’m not used to being missed like that. I’m not used to someone expressing pain and fury with me, I’m so used to flying along, my world jumping from one to another and consequences being left in my wake. But your eyes burned at me from across the room, a stare of blazing resentment. I was completely confused but of course, it was done differently here, this entanglement thing.

Slowly we soothed the pain, with physical promises and long nights together but you still don’t quite see it. You look at me with questions in your eyes daily, you doubt yourself, you see others as competitors.
And of course, in the beginning, I worried that it would get complicated. I was convinced you’d want declarations and a relationship based in monogamous fantasies. Again though, you surprised the hell out of me. Not once, have you ever demanded this thing between us be defined. You’ve never expressed frustration at my reluctance to share my entire life story.

And that’s what you don’t see, is that someone I assumed was a boy yet to really mature, is taking me down. You don’t understand that on the rare nights, you’re not with me it’s colder than it has been in long while. You don’t realise I sleep more soundly with you in my bed. You challenge me sexually, game for game – another shockingly pleasant surprise. You don’t see it because I’m doing my best to keep it hidden. But one day soon, I think you might start to see, that I’ve pretty much fallen in love with you. Against my better judgement, against every fibre of my being, the tea boy has, with his open heart, shining eyes and willingness to follow me into any hell I ask, convinced me to love. Damn Ianto Jones.