sariagray | Red Is Our Color Challenge #10 : Piece by Piece

Title: Piece by Piece
Author:

sariagray
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Word Count: 1367
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Some minor sexual concepts
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood. I do not make money off of Torchwood. In fact, it seems as though Torchwood owns and makes money off of ME. This is for entertainment purposes only. NB: Title, flowers, and quote at the beginning all come from "Datura" by Tori Amos. They belong to her, not me. Definitions of the flowers are adapted from information found at the almighty Wikipedia.
Beta: The lovely

analineblue, without whose help I probably wouldn't have anything worth posting.
Summary: Ianto is no shrinking violet; he is a whole bloody garden.

Author’s Note: Written for the

redisourcolor challenge #10. The theme is "Flowers" and the words are "wipe," "route," and "clear." The phrase is "Thank you so much."

Piece by Piece

Is there room in my heart
For you to follow your heart
And not need more blood
From the tip of your star?

Orange Jasmine
Orange jasmine is used both in traditional medicine as an analgesic and for the treatment of wood. In the West, it is cultured as an ornamental tree or hedge because of its hardiness, wide range of soil tolerance, and is suitable for larger hedges.

Ianto stood behind Jack, a foot or so to the left. His silent, sturdy presence was welcome and lent Jack an official air that served their purposes. Negotiations were difficult enough when money and bureaucracy were involved; add alien weaponry to the mix and the whole thing was absolutely impossible.

“We’re decided, then?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow even as the corners of his mouth quirked upward.

“Wipe that bloody smile off your face, Harkness,” General Fitzroy barked.

Jack frowned in annoyance. The General practically gleamed, covered in shiny, meaningless metal. His face was red with anger and self-importance and probably a bit too much whiskey when off-duty.

Stepping forward slightly, a mere shadow, Ianto gave a minute nod towards the General’s nervous, fidgety assistant. She froze, pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and dipped her chin just as discreetly. She stood on tiptoe to whisper into Fitzroy’s ear and the man gave a gruff cough of flustered acceptance.

“The United States agrees to the terms. We’re done here,” he announced and about-faced.

Jack smiled at the General’s back for a moment and then turned to Ianto with wide-eyed curiosity.

“A favor owed,” Ianto clarified and shrugged.

Jack grinned broadly. “Knew you were more than just a pretty face.”

“Of course, sir,” Ianto nodded. “I’ve also got the suit.”

Lonicera
Also known as honeysuckle, many of the species have sweetly-scented, bell-shaped flowers that produce a sweet, edible nectar. Several species of Lonicera have become invasive when taken out of their natural habitat.

He drew the tip of his tongue along the length of Ianto’s index finger. He laved his knuckle with circular swipes before engulfing it in his mouth. It tasted sweet, like honey, and Jack wondered if Ianto had been making a cup of Tosh’s favorite tisane; she had certainly deserved it after today’s run-in with a Hoix, though she seemed more upset about the broken stiletto than the sprained wrist.

The boardroom was comfortably warm and Ianto’s finger was hot against his water-cooled tongue. It reminded Jack of late summer evenings with setting suns and temperate breezes. He recalled the mingling perfumes of saltwater, greenery, and brightly colored blossoms; the scents blended together, muddled, like his memories of a hundred summers.

“Ja-ack,” Ianto stuttered, his voice guttural, and shifted his body. Jack snapped back to the present.

“Wha ‘s ‘t?”

He leisurely ran his tongue along Ianto’s finger as he sucked, eliciting a frustrated moan. Jack grinned and nipped at the flesh before pulling away to look at him.

“Did you want something?”

Ianto opened his eyes, surprisingly clear despite the thick haze of his voice.

“They’ll all be here in less than five minutes. Briefing. Remember?” he pointed out sluggishly and Jack shrugged.

“So?” he smirked.

“You’re bloody persistent,” Ianto muttered as Jack lapped happily at his palm, licking up traces of the sweet nectar.

Walking Iris
These plants produce very fragrant flowers that last for a short period of time, often only 18 hours. The weight of the growing plantlet causes the stalk to bend toward the ground, allowing the new plantlet to root away from its parent.

Framed by the doorway, Ianto heaved a sigh that threatened to break his bones. The bright light outside of the office cast his back in shadow and Jack stared at the solid form. It was late and the others had left over an hour ago, but no one had bothered to turn anything off.

“But –“ he began cautiously, then stopped when he noticed the gentle movement as Ianto shook his head.

“Not tonight, Jack. Please.”

He put a hand on the doorframe as though to brace himself, but didn’t turn. His long fingers clenched gracefully around it and Jack imagined that he could see his knuckles flushing red before quickly blanching white. He leaned back in his chair and sighed.

“We don’t have to –" he began again, more furtively, and Ianto whipped around.

“You left,” he growled low in his throat, his complexion a bitter, passionate red. “I know you’re trying to make amends. I appreciate it, really. Thank you so much. And I know something happened, and I respect you enough not to ask, but it doesn’t change the fact that you just abandoned us – me – without a word. I need time.”

He ran his hand through his hair as the flush of anger drained from his face. He suddenly looked vulnerable, frightened, but his eyes held their usual steely determination as they implored Jack to understand.

“I need to know,” Ianto continued shakily, “that I can still walk away. On my own.”

Datura
Most parts of this plant contain toxic hallucinogens, and datura has a long history of use for causing delirious states and death. It was well known as an essential ingredient of love potions and witches' brews.

He knew it was dangerous, but he had already formed a hearty pattern of risky behaviors so there was no sense in breaking the habit now.

And anyway, Jack was clinging to him like he had grown roots. He was warm and firm and reassuring and here. The clock on the wall steadily ticked until it reached one hundred and twenty degrees and then widened to one hundred and fifty as it followed its prescribed circular route and still Jack hadn’t left.

Acute. That was the name for the angle. Obtuse was what he was being if he thought Jack’s reluctance to leave a warm bed on a cold morning meant anything other than a desire for comfort.

He snickered softly to himself and Jack shifted, opening an eye to peer at him.

“You should be sleeping,” he scolded half-heartedly and yawned. “And what’re you laughing at?”

“Maths pun,” Ianto murmured and let Jack pull him closer.

Pressing a kiss to Ianto’s temple, Jack chuckled. “You would. Now get some sleep. Or do I have to drug you?”

Ianto snorted ruefully. “I think you already have.”

Frangipani
In some traditions, frangipani is associated with worship and is used in temples as offerings. In other cultures, it is associated with death, funerals, and graveyards. The flowers are most fragrant at night in order to lure sphinx moths to pollinate them. The flowers have no nectar, and simply dupe their pollinators.

Ianto’s hands drifted naturally to Jack’s waist and tugged. Their lips were interlocked a bit clumsily in their quest to affirm life, but neither would have complained even if given the opportunity. Another close call, another matching set of internal and external scars, but all was safe for now.

It felt much like they were desperately searching for something elusive. It was there, Ianto knew, just under the surface, and if he could just reach out and grasp – but he never quite made it. He could feel Jack reach, too, as time and circumstance constantly conspired against them.

Jack pulled back slowly and Ianto almost shrank away at the unmasked devotion in his eyes, but he steadied himself. He gazed back, perhaps with a very similar expression, as he caught his breath.

And maybe it was about time he stopped reaching and started holding.

Resting his forehead affectionately against Ianto’s, Jack sighed. It was a deeply content sound that Ianto could feel in the marrow of his bones; it was terrifying and thrilling. Jack shifted his head slightly and pressed his lips to Ianto’s temple, his cheek, his jaw. When he reached his lips, he took a quiet breath.

“Ianto, I –“

Ianto placed a hand on Jack’s chest and pushed slightly, forcing their eyes to meet with such intensity that it almost hurt. Strange how such a thing could be borne of so many lies.

“Show me,” he instructed.

The End.

Current Mood: confused
Current Music: "Datura" Tori Amos