When The Cracks Begin To Show
Nov. 3rd, 2010 06:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sariagrayTitle: When The Cracks Begin To Show
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sariagray
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Word Count: 882
Spoilers: Nothing specific.
Warnings: Fluff and domesticity with an itty bitty touch of angst. For flavor, of course. Unbeta'd. Apologies abound.
Disclaimer: Just borrowing. No intentions of making money, and the characters certainly don't belong to me.
Author's Note: Fluff is contagious. Yes it is. *Sneezes* This was supposed to be an angsty drabble for "Use It In A Sentence." I don't know what happened. Whoops. Sorry about that. I blame the weather.
The mug is solid in his hands, heavy in a reassuring way. If he loosens his grip and relaxes his wrist just so, it weighs him down considerably like an anchor. As he wipes the residue of this morning’s coffee, tan rings against the white ceramic disappearing beneath translucent bubbles, he notices a grey-brown hairline fracture running from top to bottom.
Rubbing a soap-slick finger over the imperfection, he feels nothing to indicate an actual crack. Still, knowing that it’s there bothers him and he tries to frown it out of existence. It doesn’t pose an immediate threat, but it’s a point of weakness that he needs to fix. Frowning at it does nothing, so he moves on to a full-blown scowl.
There is a pressure on his shoulder that makes him jump and almost causes him to drop the offending drink ware. His mind calls up an image of thousands of white shards sprinkled around him like snow and that terrifies him a little.
“I’ve never seen you so serious about washing up, and that’s saying something.” Jack’s breath is warm against his ear, simultaneously comforting and unsettling.
“Hmm,” Ianto replies, collecting his scattered nerves.
“What’s wrong?”
“This.”
Ianto holds out the mug and Jack takes it firmly, his movements sharp with confidence. He shifts it around a few times, perplexed. He cocks an eyebrow and looks at Ianto.
“Is it alien?”
Ianto sighs and makes to run his hand through his hair before he realizes that it’s still damp and soapy. He stands uncertain, his hand raised in front of his eyes as though he’s reading his own palm before he lets it fall gracelessly.
“Not alien. It’s…well, it’s got a crack.”
“Where?” Jack’s turning it around again, searching in vain.
“Inside, opposite from the handle.”
He catches sight of it and a triumphant look flashes across his face. Then he stares some more, and for a brief moment Ianto considers informing him that no, he’s tried, and staring at it doesn’t help.
“You can barely see it.”
“I know,” he fumbles. “I just….” He shrugs helplessly.
Jack gently sets the mug down on the counter and wraps his arms around Ianto. It wasn’t the reaction he was expecting and Ianto can’t quite figure out what to do with his hands; he’s yearning for a towel the way a desert craves water. Jack pulls away and looks at him curiously, then laughs as he catches Ianto gazing longingly at the dishtowel resting in the handle of the stove.
Grabbing it with a flourish, Jack presents it to him, a favor for his knight before the joust. That thought clings to Ianto’s imagination as he wipes his hands on the red terrycloth square with reverence. He wonders if Jack had something he could tie around his…what? Gun, perhaps. The biggest gun in the Hub, at that.
“Sometimes, I wish I could visit your brain.”
Jack’s comment startles him out of his reverie and he smiles wryly.
“I don’t think you’ve the stomach for it,” he responds as he returns the towel.
“Is that a challenge?”
He shrugs. “Just an observation.”
Jack laughs and pulls him close again, kissing his temple. It’s sweet, even chaste, but it sends a quiver through Ianto all the same. To distract himself, he focuses on how the waning sunlight casts shadows in the beige kitchen, and he suddenly recalls that he had meant to have something in the oven by now; if he’s hungry, Jack must be starving.
“So,” he says, clearing his throat. “The mug?”
“As long as you don’t throw it around, it’ll be fine. It’s got character now. It means something.” Jack pulls back a little, holding Ianto at arm’s length as if to examine him.
“It’s a mug,” he huffs. “Purely functional. It holds warm drinks. It’s not supposed to have meaning.”
“I want to keep it, flaws and meaning and all,” Jack stubbornly insists as he stares into Ianto’s eyes.
“Maybe we should just put it out of its misery. Buy a new one. Or not. There are plenty here to use,” he suggests, trying to be casual. His voice is hesitant, though, carrying the burden of something yet unnamed as he gradually returns himself to Jack’s willing embrace.
“I’m keeping it whether you like it or not.”
Ianto is surprised that he has to strain to hear Jack’s words. They’re quiet and baritone, and all the more powerful for it. He’s even more surprised that he feels relieved.
“Fine, keep it,” he says lightly, making a show of giving in. “I’ve got to start dinner.”
He kisses Jack softly, quickly, hoping not to give himself away in the tender press of lips. Jack steps out of his way, taking the mug with him. He raises it to Ianto as though he intends to make a toast.
“Flaws and meaning and all,” he repeats, smiling something disconcertingly genuine as he removes himself from the kitchen.
Ianto shakes his head and opens the cupboard door to pull out what he needs. As he retrieves the bottle of olive oil, he wonders at what point in the conversation they stopped talking about ceramics. It makes him freeze, a doe in headlights staring into pantry shadows. Thinking about it, he realizes they never started.
Author:
sariagray Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Word Count: 882
Spoilers: Nothing specific.
Warnings: Fluff and domesticity with an itty bitty touch of angst. For flavor, of course. Unbeta'd. Apologies abound.
Disclaimer: Just borrowing. No intentions of making money, and the characters certainly don't belong to me.
Author's Note: Fluff is contagious. Yes it is. *Sneezes* This was supposed to be an angsty drabble for "Use It In A Sentence." I don't know what happened. Whoops. Sorry about that. I blame the weather.
When The Cracks Begin To Show
The mug is solid in his hands, heavy in a reassuring way. If he loosens his grip and relaxes his wrist just so, it weighs him down considerably like an anchor. As he wipes the residue of this morning’s coffee, tan rings against the white ceramic disappearing beneath translucent bubbles, he notices a grey-brown hairline fracture running from top to bottom.
Rubbing a soap-slick finger over the imperfection, he feels nothing to indicate an actual crack. Still, knowing that it’s there bothers him and he tries to frown it out of existence. It doesn’t pose an immediate threat, but it’s a point of weakness that he needs to fix. Frowning at it does nothing, so he moves on to a full-blown scowl.
There is a pressure on his shoulder that makes him jump and almost causes him to drop the offending drink ware. His mind calls up an image of thousands of white shards sprinkled around him like snow and that terrifies him a little.
“I’ve never seen you so serious about washing up, and that’s saying something.” Jack’s breath is warm against his ear, simultaneously comforting and unsettling.
“Hmm,” Ianto replies, collecting his scattered nerves.
“What’s wrong?”
“This.”
Ianto holds out the mug and Jack takes it firmly, his movements sharp with confidence. He shifts it around a few times, perplexed. He cocks an eyebrow and looks at Ianto.
“Is it alien?”
Ianto sighs and makes to run his hand through his hair before he realizes that it’s still damp and soapy. He stands uncertain, his hand raised in front of his eyes as though he’s reading his own palm before he lets it fall gracelessly.
“Not alien. It’s…well, it’s got a crack.”
“Where?” Jack’s turning it around again, searching in vain.
“Inside, opposite from the handle.”
He catches sight of it and a triumphant look flashes across his face. Then he stares some more, and for a brief moment Ianto considers informing him that no, he’s tried, and staring at it doesn’t help.
“You can barely see it.”
“I know,” he fumbles. “I just….” He shrugs helplessly.
Jack gently sets the mug down on the counter and wraps his arms around Ianto. It wasn’t the reaction he was expecting and Ianto can’t quite figure out what to do with his hands; he’s yearning for a towel the way a desert craves water. Jack pulls away and looks at him curiously, then laughs as he catches Ianto gazing longingly at the dishtowel resting in the handle of the stove.
Grabbing it with a flourish, Jack presents it to him, a favor for his knight before the joust. That thought clings to Ianto’s imagination as he wipes his hands on the red terrycloth square with reverence. He wonders if Jack had something he could tie around his…what? Gun, perhaps. The biggest gun in the Hub, at that.
“Sometimes, I wish I could visit your brain.”
Jack’s comment startles him out of his reverie and he smiles wryly.
“I don’t think you’ve the stomach for it,” he responds as he returns the towel.
“Is that a challenge?”
He shrugs. “Just an observation.”
Jack laughs and pulls him close again, kissing his temple. It’s sweet, even chaste, but it sends a quiver through Ianto all the same. To distract himself, he focuses on how the waning sunlight casts shadows in the beige kitchen, and he suddenly recalls that he had meant to have something in the oven by now; if he’s hungry, Jack must be starving.
“So,” he says, clearing his throat. “The mug?”
“As long as you don’t throw it around, it’ll be fine. It’s got character now. It means something.” Jack pulls back a little, holding Ianto at arm’s length as if to examine him.
“It’s a mug,” he huffs. “Purely functional. It holds warm drinks. It’s not supposed to have meaning.”
“I want to keep it, flaws and meaning and all,” Jack stubbornly insists as he stares into Ianto’s eyes.
“Maybe we should just put it out of its misery. Buy a new one. Or not. There are plenty here to use,” he suggests, trying to be casual. His voice is hesitant, though, carrying the burden of something yet unnamed as he gradually returns himself to Jack’s willing embrace.
“I’m keeping it whether you like it or not.”
Ianto is surprised that he has to strain to hear Jack’s words. They’re quiet and baritone, and all the more powerful for it. He’s even more surprised that he feels relieved.
“Fine, keep it,” he says lightly, making a show of giving in. “I’ve got to start dinner.”
He kisses Jack softly, quickly, hoping not to give himself away in the tender press of lips. Jack steps out of his way, taking the mug with him. He raises it to Ianto as though he intends to make a toast.
“Flaws and meaning and all,” he repeats, smiling something disconcertingly genuine as he removes himself from the kitchen.
Ianto shakes his head and opens the cupboard door to pull out what he needs. As he retrieves the bottle of olive oil, he wonders at what point in the conversation they stopped talking about ceramics. It makes him freeze, a doe in headlights staring into pantry shadows. Thinking about it, he realizes they never started.
End
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-11-03 11:00 pm (UTC)Yes, Jack, I want to visit Ianto's brain too.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-03 11:02 pm (UTC)And don't we all!?
no subject
Date: 2010-11-03 11:14 pm (UTC)When do we get more words to use in a sentence? *begs*
no subject
Date: 2010-11-03 11:21 pm (UTC)I promise, words on Friday. :)
no subject
Date: 2010-11-03 11:28 pm (UTC)Yay - new fabulousness ♥ ♥!
no subject
Date: 2010-11-03 11:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-03 11:37 pm (UTC)I haven't been disappointed before, so why would I start now? Have faith, sistah, your writing is amazing.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-03 11:40 pm (UTC)And you haven't seen this week's words yet...lol But thank you!
no subject
Date: 2010-11-03 11:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-04 02:05 am (UTC)nice
Date: 2010-11-04 02:09 am (UTC)Kept waiting for the mug to have sentimental value, but you got to another point quite well.
Re: nice
Date: 2010-11-04 02:28 am (UTC)And I presume the weather is the ultimate culprit; the rest of you just passed it on to me. Apparently, The Fluff is impervious to vitamin C.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-04 02:30 am (UTC)that last line was beautiful. the whole thing was beautiful. i spent the whole time with a giant soppy smile on my face. *hugs you tight* this is my favorite everything forever. so much love. so much.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-04 02:42 am (UTC)I'm glad you think I got him in this. Frowning at cracks is always a first resort; knowing Torchwood, they might be sentient and actually respond by leaving. ;-)
I'm really glad you liked it! And I'm glad the last line worked, too, because it was giving me verb tense and continuity problems for a good long while! :)
But...Favorite everything forever!?!? *Blush* Eep! :)
no subject
Date: 2010-11-04 02:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-04 06:49 am (UTC)... Then he stares some more, and for a brief moment Ianto considers informing him that no, he’s tried, and staring at it doesn’t help.
lol
That was just as sweet and funnny as it was profound.
Gorgeous!!! Thank you!!!
no subject
Date: 2010-11-04 08:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-04 11:33 am (UTC)Beautiful insight into Jack's feelings for Ianto. Loved it!
no subject
Date: 2010-11-04 10:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-04 09:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-04 10:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 08:11 am (UTC)Lovely.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 09:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 06:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-06 12:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 11:43 pm (UTC)Ianto's thoughts are wonderful, so if the conversation - lovely fluff with a serious side =)
no subject
Date: 2010-11-06 12:45 am (UTC)Thanks!