Title: Waiting Room
By: amuly
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Word Count: 579
Rating: PG
Summary: Jack reflects on waiting for his Doctor. Season 2.
Warnings: none.
A/N: This is me being “concise” and “careful with my words”. I know, I’m rubbish at it. I tried.

            Jack was watching Ianto as he slept. He had drifted off immediately after sex, with Ianto pressed firmly to his side in a sweaty embrace. But then he had woken up, not even an hour later. And so he watched Ianto sleep. Watched the faint moonlight make its way through the blinds and flicker over Ianto’s skin, turning it a beautiful, soft silver. Watched his eyelashes twitch against his face as he dreamt. Felt the soft whisper of his breath over his skin, ghosting there for just a second on each exhale.

            “Jack?” Ianto was stirring, pulling himself out of Jack’s embrace to look at him.

            “Yeah, Ianto?” Jack’s voice was barely a whisper: he didn’t want to ruin the peace of the moment.

            He smiled as Ianto moved back against him, snuggling up close. Only in these half-asleep or post-coital moments would Ianto succumb to cuddling: when he was fully aware, he’d over think the action, worry about how Jack would feel about it. Jack knew, but he hadn’t said anything to Ianto. No need – so long as he got these few moments with Ianto, that was good enough. For now.

            “Your thinking woke me up. Stop.”

            Jack smiled down at the tired Welshman, speaking with his eyes closed. He pressed a kiss to his forehead, then squeezed him closer. “Usually you’re the one doing that.”

            “Role-reversal. Try it…sometime…” Ianto’s sentence drifted off into a yawn. He inhaled deeply, and Jack knew he was breathing in his scent. Ianto loved his 51st century pheromones. “Watch’ya thinking?”

             Ianto must be well and truly exhausted, to ask something like that, Jack knew. He’d never pry into Jack’s thoughts, or secrets, even when he desperately wanted to. But Jack didn’t feel like being enigmatic – not tonight. “Waiting rooms.”

            “Waiting rooms? Got a doctor’s appointment?”

            Jack huffed. “Did. Used to.” He paused. He hadn’t noticed when, but at some point Ianto had started stroking fingers lazily over his chest. “When I was waiting for the Doctor, all those years…Earth was like one big waiting room for me. Waiting to see my Doctor.”

            “How appropriate,” Ianto grumbled. It was only because Ianto was half-asleep that they could even have this conversation. If Jack had tried when they were both awake, Ianto would have shut down, and then Jack would have, and they would have devolved into one of their closing-off contests that never resolved anything.

            Jack forged ahead. “Yeah. But now, I’ve seen my Doctor. And even though I’m still here, in the same place…” he paused for a moment, drawing long lines down Ianto’s arm with the pads of his fingers, “It’s not a waiting room anymore. Now I can get on with my life, actually live it. Instead of sitting around waiting.”

            “Why’re you even here, then?” Ianto’s voice was barely even a whisper. It was tinged with nervousness, with self-doubt. He was starting to wake up, to pay attention to what they were discussing.

            Jack held him tight, hugged him to his chest and pressed his lips to his ear. “Because I want to be here, Ianto Jones. It’s my choice. I’m not waiting for him, anymore. I’m living, exactly where I want to be.”

            As Jack drew back, Ianto’s eyes finally opened. Brilliant blue met brilliant blue, and Jack wanted to close his eyes to what he saw in Ianto’s. But he didn’t. He looked back purposefully, steadily. “I’m here,” he whispered.

            Then they kissed. And Jack stopped thinking.