Heavy, Sweet or Bitter

[sariagray]

Title: Heavy, Sweet or Bitter
Author: sariagray
Rating: PG13
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Mentions of the team
Things To Be Aware Of: Language, mentions of sex and infidelity, angst and fluff. Spoilers up through the end of S2, and a bit of S3 implications at the end.
Summary: 10 scenes, all with the exact same starting point.
Beta: analineblue <3
Author Notes: Inspired by this picture by irbisn on deviantART, which was posted by xrai_namere. It’s a lovely bit of artwork and I tried to get in all of the implications of the image while maintaining a vague story arch. That said, each scene could also be regarded as a standalone. (And apparently, I'm still on a "many glimpses of their relationship kick." Sorry about that!)

Heavy, Sweet or Bitter

1.

Jack watched Ianto from the doorway. The light from the kitchen was pale fluorescent and made the room look worn and empty. He resisted the urge to sink back into the shadows.

“Saw your light on,” Jack said as Ianto rolled open the folds of a bag of coffee.

“Gwen called to warn me.”

“She did?” Jack’s eyebrows crept to the edge of his hairline. “Gwen?”

“Yeah, Gwen. I think you’ve met her once or twice. Brown hair with the fringe, gap in her teeth, freckles?”

Ianto wasn’t looking at him, but really, Jack hadn’t expected very much. This was better than being punched in the jaw again, at any rate. He stepped forward cautiously, as though Ianto were a half-starved weevil on the verge of attacking.

“Oh. Well. Here I am.”

“Yep.”

Jack cleared his throat. If he were completely honest, he had no actual reason to stop by. In fact, he’d been avoiding it for the past two weeks, had even sent Owen and Tosh to sweep and bug Ianto’s flat instead of taking the task on himself, as he should have done. He’d spent those few hours staring at the blood-soaked stone floor instead, wondering How? and Why?

He shoved his hands in his pockets, and then took them out almost immediately in favor of crossing his arms over his chest.

“How are you?” he finally asked, after Ianto had finished parsing out a measure of beans.

Ianto flicked the switch on the grinder and the flat was filled with the rough whir of chopping blades for a solid minute. Jack tried not to look annoyed.

“Did you know that the world record for coffee consumption is eighty two cups in seven hours?” Ianto poured the grounds into a filter.

“Trying to beat it?”

“No,” Ianto said, and Jack could almost see the hint of a smile on his face. “But sometimes I think you might be. I thought you should be aware of the competition.”

Jack chuckled a little, despite himself, and let his arms fall to his side. “Have you eaten?”

“Toast.”

“This morning?”

Ianto nodded and pressed a sequence of buttons. Jack watched his long, too-slender fingers hesitate over them, as if unsure. They dragged, gracefully, down the side of the machine like a caress and then skittered across the countertop.

“Dinner?” Jack asked, casually, and allowed himself to lean back against the wall.

“What time is it?”

“Seven. You should eat.”

“Don’t have much here.” Ianto nodded to the refrigerator.

Jack straightened and walked across the room to open it. Inside was a wilted bag of lettuce, a mouse-feast sized square of cheese, and bottle after bottle of half used condiments. He opened the crisper drawer and found an off piece of what could have once been meat. He grabbed it and threw it into the empty waste bin across the kitchen.

“Well done,” Ianto said, still staring at the coffee pot.

“Nothing in the cabinets?”

Ianto shrugged. Jack took that as permission and began to open each one.

“How many types of mustard can one person have?” he muttered, half to himself. He glanced at Ianto, who shrugged again. “Is this some sort of fetish?”

“I don’t imagine it’d be a comfortable one.”

Shaking his head, Jack shut each door and frowned. “Okay. So where are we going to eat? I passed a pub on the way here, not far. Any good?”

“We?”

Ianto finally looked up, blank expression replaced with one of utter confusion. Jack almost laughed with relief; confusion wasn’t much of an emotion, but it was something.

“Yes, we. Now, the pub. Is it any good?”

“I’ve – I’ve never been. It’s probably decent, usual pub fare, but….”

The coffee machine beeped insistently, announcing the end of its cycle, and Jack was a little grateful that the one at the Hub didn’t do that. Not that it mattered, though. Even if it did beep, it would have spent a fortnight in silence. And that was just a little too depressing a thought. For the coffee machine, of course.

“Fine. We’ll go there,” Jack smiled. “Get changed. Or, don’t.” He, rather tentatively, attempted a leer.

Ianto smirked a little, which Jack considered a superb triumph. “There’s coffee if you want some,” he said, and then padded away, barefoot, into what Jack presumed was his bedroom.

2.

“That was quick,” Ianto said, not looking up from his task.

“Yeah. Just the one. Only –”

Ianto looked up sharply and Jack flinched. “Were you hurt?” Ianto asked, closing the bag of coffee and setting it down on the counter. He stepped closer.

“N-nothing bad, just winded me a bit.” Jack took of his coat. “See? Not an inch of broken skin.”

“Oh,” said Ianto. “Good.”

“Is that coffee?”

“It is.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” Jack slumped into a seat. “And you should wear that to work.”

Ianto snorted. “Too cold.”

“If that’s the only reason, I could bring in some space heaters.” He grinned and watched as Ianto tried to suppress a laugh and then picked up his coat for inspection.

“You’re missing a button. And there’s a tear.” Ianto looked at him suspiciously and Jack felt, ridiculously, like an errant child. He shrugged and Ianto sighed. “Whisky in yours?”

Nodding, Jack watched him bustle around the Hub’s tiny kitchenette. He loved the look of Ianto in floor-rumpled clothing, hastily tugged on after the alert came through and he’d rushed to Toshiko’s station to coordinate. He loved even more the fact that he hadn’t taken the time while Jack was out to change back into his suit. Maybe that meant he’d stay the night, finally. Then Jack wondered why he cared.

“It’s been a hell of a day,” Jack muttered, wiping a hand over his face and letting it pull on his skin.

He saw Ianto glance up at the clock on the wall. “It’s only had two hours.”

“Fine. It’s been a hell of a twenty four hour period. Better?”

“Much,” Ianto nodded and handed Jack a warm mug. He pulled up a chair for himself and settled next to Jack. “Gwen – will she be alright?”

Jack frowned. “Yeah, I think so. She’s tough.”

“Yep,” Ianto agreed, his face relaxing a bit in relief. “And you?”

He stalled by taking a gulp of coffee, and scorched his mouth in the name of circumspection. Finally, he nodded. “I will be. I just – I feel like I’ve failed her twice now. Suzie, I mean. Though I’ve probably failed Gwen, too.”

Ianto was quiet for a long while, and finally Jack looked up at him. Their eyes met and Ianto smiled a little, tentatively.

“I’ve yet to see you fail anyone.”

“Jasmine,” Jack countered. “Estelle. Owen. Toshiko. You.” He took another swig of coffee, not caring now if it blistered his whole mouth.

“Not how I see it,” Ianto sighed and leaned back a little in his seat. “We’re the ones who keep failing you. At least, I am.”

“What you did was wrong,” Jack agreed, scowling, “but it was noble.”

“And sometimes what you do is unthinkably cruel, but it’s also right.”

Jack’s scowl deepened and then he laughed. “Are you staying tonight?”

Ianto froze stiff and then turned, slowly, towards him. “I suppose. It’s a bit late to head back now. If – I mean, if it’s not –”

“Good,” Jack said and smiled.

3.

Ianto looked up from his bag of coffee. He thought he saw someone in the doorway. Out of the corner of his eye, there’d been a flash of grey. It was probably just the shadows, though. Besides, Jack was gone.

He rubbed his eyes of their early morning haze.

4.

“Well, you don’t look ready for our date.”

Granted, Jack hadn’t exactly dressed up for their evening out, but Ianto was in a loose-fitting vest and wrinkled trousers best used for lounging on couches. Which was a little unnerving, actually. He bit his lower lip discreetly.

Ianto scoffed. “That’s because you’re two hours early.”

“No, I’m definitely –” Jack said and glanced at his watch. “Oh. But Gwen said – and then Owen – and Toshiko had – I am going to lock them all in the Janet’s cell tomorrow. Just watch me.” He slumped a little.

Ianto looked over at him, laughter making his eyes dance, and Jack groaned. Now all they needed was a weevil alert in the middle of dinner and this night would be perfect. If Ianto even agreed to go out with him now.

“It’ll take me twenty minutes to shower and change,” Ianto promised. “Think you can occupy yourself?”

Jack nodded, a bit too enthusiastically, and Ianto laughed. He stepped across the room and removed Jack’s coat, hanging it up carefully in the hallway. Jack relaxed a bit.

“Sit down,” Ianto ordered and Jack gratefully obeyed. “You’ve got twenty minutes to rearrange our plans.” He fumbled in his pocket, pulled out his stopwatch, and tossed it to Jack.

“Thank you,” he sighed.

Ianto smiled and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “There’s coffee if you want some.”

5.

Ianto was painfully silent, silent as knives slicing easily though flesh and fat and muscle. He was so cold, a sculpture in ice as he gracefully suppressed his rage. At least, Jack hoped he was feeling rage, because that at least meant he still had a shot.

“Please,” Jack said, quietly. “Please just say something.”

The coffee machine gurgled and hissed unpleasantly. Outside, a cat howled and someone shouted, “Alright, love?” and Jack fancied he could hear crickets chirping, even if it was late autumn. Still, Ianto was quiet. Jack couldn’t even hear him breathing.

Finally, he spoke. “What were their names?” His voice was strained and light and all Jack wanted was for him to yell. Yelling, he could handle.

“I don’t know,” he breathed, and his shoulders bowed with the weight of guilt. “I didn’t ask.”

“Of course not.” At least there was a touch of bitterness now.

“Ianto, please. I – I completely understand if you’re mad at me. Yell, scream, punch me, I don’t care. Don’t just stand there like that.”

Jack took a shaky step closer and Ianto whirled around to face him.

“That’s the problem. It’s not you I’m mad at, it’s me. I can’t believe I thought you’d changed.”

He didn’t even look angry, and that hurt worse than Jack thought it would. It was a stupid mistake, he’d just got caught up; it hadn’t meant anything. Not the way this meant something. Still, his mouth worked like a fish’s and he couldn’t get the words out of his head and into the air.

“Drink your coffee and then please leave.”

Jack bristled against the dismissal as he watched Ianto stalk off. He couldn’t understand these people, their weird hang-ups about sex, their predilections to physical monogamy. It infuriated and confused him and often left him grasping around a whole host of foreign concepts for the appropriate behavior.

“I never promised you anything, you know,” Jack shouted at Ianto’s back.

The bedroom door slammed shut.

6.

“How many times?” Ianto asked without looking up.

“What are you doing here?”

“How many times, Jack?”

“Three. Well, four actually, but it was part of the second, so I’m only counting it once,” he sighed. “Really, what are you doing? You’re the last person I expected to see at the Hub at this hour.”

“How?”

Jack sighed again. This was going to be a long night. “Fell off a building, then a –”

Ianto glanced over at him, and Jack was frustratingly relieved that he looked concerned. And also highly suspicious. “Fell?”

Jack waved a hand, aloof and cold. “Then a weevil got me across the throat. I came to, but since I’d already died once, didn’t heal fast enough, and I bled out. Third time I drowned. In the bay. Happy?”

Flinching, Ianto turned back to the coffee machine. “Why the fuck would that make me happy?”

“Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

“You –” Ianto swallowed. “You said you never promised me anything. That’s true. If you had, would it have made any difference?”

“Yes,” Jack said quickly, and then frowned. “No. I don’t know. It was stupid and I regret it, if it makes any difference to you.”

“A little.” Ianto nodded distractedly, tapping his finger against the glass of the coffee pot as it filled.

“And if I did promise you something?” Jack asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. He didn’t deserve reprieve, but part of him also didn’t think he needed it. Not for the actions themselves, at any rate.

“What about it?” Ianto asked the machine.

“If I promised you boundaries, exclusivity, I don’t know. I don’t even know what you want half the time.”

“That’s part of the problem, isn’t it?” Ianto turned around and leaned against the counter. “Maybe we both want different things.”

“Or maybe we want the exact same thing, but we have very unique definitions.” Jack paused. “I’ve never had this conversation before.”

Ianto, surprisingly, laughed. “Really? That’s a little shocking.”

“Why? Have you?”

“At least five times. Do you need a diagram?”

“No,” Jack said, miserably. “Just cut to the chase.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow. “There’s no cutting to the chase of a discussion. Not if you’re doing it right. I haven’t come to a decision yet. Unless you have, in which case, by all means, let’s hear it.”

“You confuse the hell out of me, you know that?” Jack pulled up a chair and sat down, willingly putting himself at a physical disadvantage. “And you scare me, too. I can’t promise to change who I am, or to pledge monogamy or whatever the hell you want. I can’t promise anything, because I break my promises. Every single one of them. The difference is, with you, I want to be able to promise it all. And that’s fucking terrifying.”

“So what do you want?” Ianto asked, his face still a mask of stoicism.

“I want you to know that I’ll hurt you, and you’ll hurt me, and we’ll both fuck up. All of the time, probably. There will be days when we resent each other, when we can’t stand the sight of each other. But I want to try, anyway. Because the more time goes by, the more I think it may be worth it.”

“So, you’re basically saying you want us to be normal?”

Ianto’s voice was bone dry and sharp, and Jack looked up in a bit of a panic, but Ianto’s lips were quirked almost sweetly into a half-smile. Jack let out a long breath.

“Yeah. I guess I am.”

“Good,” Ianto said, matter-of-fact. “Then maybe we do want the same thing.”

7.

It was late when Jack got back to the flat. He seemed to get there later and later each night, spending the evening hours watching as the city gradually rebuilt itself. Sometimes, too, he would just walk the streets, trying to remember what he had felt like before everything came crashing down around him.

Well, not everything.

“What are you doing up?” he asked from the kitchen entranceway.

Ianto yawned. “Making coffee.”

Jack stepped back into the hallway and hung up his coat. “Why are you making coffee now? It’s after two and you look exhausted.”

“Are you going to sleep tonight?” Ianto called back.

He considered it for a moment. He’d tried to sleep, but the past week had found him restless and terrified of the darkness of the bedroom. It was almost as dark as being buried alive, even if it was much better than the tiny camp bed in the Hub.

“No, probably not.”

“So you’ll be wanting coffee, then.”

Jack returned to the kitchen and offered Ianto a weak smile. “Thanks. I don’t deserve you.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow, but the look was spoiled by another yawn. Jack’s smile brightened a little and he pulled Ianto close. Ianto’s skin felt almost feverishly warm, but then it had been cold and he’d just spent almost five hours outside.

“I finally managed to pull Gwen away from the police station.” He kissed the top of Ianto’s head and nuzzled into his hair for a moment. “She’s going to burn herself out if she isn’t careful, so we’ll have to keep a close eye on her. I left her in Rhys’s capable hands.” He paused. “Please get some sleep.”

Ianto nudged against Jack’s shoulder. “M’fine,” he stated and yawned again.

Jack pulled away a little. Ianto’s eyes were red and the dark circles he perpetually maintained were now more like deep gouges of blackness. His skin looked paper-thin and pale, and his cheekbones were slightly more pronounced, like he hadn’t been eating for a couple of days.

“No, you aren’t. None of us are going in for two days unless absolutely necessary. And I decide what’s absolutely necessary. We’re going to sleep in tomorrow, and then we’re going to get some proper food in both of us, and then we’re going to…well, I don’t know what we’re going to do yet, but it’ll be something good.”

“But,” Ianto protested weakly, “there’s so much clean-up to do. And there’s – there’s only the three of us to do it now….” His voice seemed to trail off and it broke Jack’s heart a little.

“Bed, now. That’s an order.”

Ianto opened his mouth as if to argue and then he shut it and opened it again. “But what about the coffee?”

“Fuck the coffee,” Jack said plainly and practically shoved Ianto in the direction of the bedroom.

8.

“Do you have a moment?” Jack asked softly, trying to keep the hesitation out of his voice.

He watched Ianto stretch a little before he finished scooping the grounds of coffee into their filter.

Ianto glanced up. “How are you dressed before me?” he muttered and then sighed. “Just let me get this started?”

“Sure.”

Jack watched from the doorway as Ianto went about setting the machine to brew. He’d seen Ianto do this so many times, he wondered if he could do it himself yet. Probably not. It took patience, which was something he prided himself on lacking.

Once the machine began to babble, Jack settled himself into one of the kitchen chairs. Ianto leaned against the table and regarded him warily, his arms folded across his chest.

“There are – there are things I need to tell you. About my life. It’s not that I’ve been trying to keep them secret from you specifically. I’ve…well, I’ve told you a lot. But there are some gaps I need to fill.”

Ianto nodded and uncrossed his arms. One of his hands sought out Jack’s and Jack held it. He looked up at Ianto, who was smiling encouragingly.

9.

“I just need to run out for a second,” Jack said. “Do you need anything?”

“Cream, if you want it in your coffee,” Ianto replied.

Jack laughed. “That’s what I was going to get. Anything else?”

“Nope, I think we’re good. If you want something other than toast for breakfast, pick up that.”

Jack raised an eyebrow and stood behind Ianto, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Why are you frowning at the coffee? Everything okay?”

“I think it’s stale.”

Jack leaned over Ianto’s shoulder and sniffed at the bag. “Smells like coffee to me.”

“It would.”

“I’ll pick you up a fresh bag,” Jack promised. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Toast is fine.”

Jack nipped at his ear and Ianto attempted to bat him away with his hand, though the burst of laughter belied his intent.

“I didn’t ask what would be acceptable, I asked what you wanted.”

Jack kissed down Ianto’s neck slowly and was pleased when he glanced up and saw that Ianto’s eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly parted.

“What,” Jack prompted again, punctuating his words with nips along Ianto’s jaw line, “do you want for breakfast?”

Ianto grabbed hold of Jack’s hips, and Jack felt himself being spun around and pressed uncomfortably against the counter. He was about to make a particularly snide comment, but Ianto’s mouth was hotly pressed to his before he could get the words out.

10.

“Oh!” Ianto gasped, and dropped the bag of coffee he’d been holding. “It’s – you’re – uh, hello, sir.”

He glanced down at the spread of tiny brown flecks that seemed to cover his kitchen floor and felt the blush rising in his cheeks.

“Are you back, then?” he asked and looked back up at Jack, who was smiling at him almost wistfully.

“Er,” Jack said, and then cleared his throat. “Not really. I was able to get away for a moment, though.”

“Oh.” Ianto ran a hand through his hair. Jack’s eyes looked tired and yet there was this sudden brightness to them that scared Ianto a little. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Jack breathed. “It has.”

“Would you like some coffee?” He tried to hide his embarrassment as Jack looked skeptically at the mess on the floor. “I was just putting it away; I’d already brewed a pot.”

“Sure,” Jack said, smiling brightly.

There was still a strange sort of agony about his face, though, that was worrying. Even when he approached Ianto, it was with none of the demanding gestures that had become so familiar. Jack’s every movement seemed to be soft and cautiously hopeful.

When Jack got close enough, Ianto found himself squeezed to within an inch of his life.

“I miss you,” Jack murmured against his skin. It sent shivers through Ianto’s body. “I miss you so much.”

“I’m right here.” His voice was muffled by the wool of Jack’s coat. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jack laughed brokenly and then kissed him. It was…well, it was completely different from any way Jack had ever kissed him before.

***

The next morning, Ianto woke up with an exceptionally dry mouth and aching limbs. His head felt fuzzy and confused. He padded blearily into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and found a fresh brewed pot waiting for him. He frowned at it in confusion for a moment, which is when he noticed the bright, neon yellow post-it note stuck to the counter.

I will come back for you. Promise. –J

He stared at it until his coffee went cold and Owen was phoning him, demanding to know where the hell he was.

The End