Title: This Moth Died Happy
Author: Clarity
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Wordcount: 700
Rating: Probably a hard PG13
Summary: Ianto has a girlfriend now. Jack can't deal with it.
Notes: This is ENTIRELY maverick0324 's fault. We were bored, trading imaginitive scenarios and decided to race to write a fic each. We had 30 mins precisely.

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Sometimes Ianto wonders if Jack's slightly less than normal talents include some form of heat vision. He knows the Captain is staring at him, into the back of his neck to be precise, because of the gentle burn making all the hairs there stand on end. Jack has been doing it for well over ten minutes, eyes roaming slowly all over his body, never once moving away; watching him as he stares at the computer screen, trying to concentrate on finding the archive entry he is searching for.

Ianto doesn't need to turn around to know exactly where Jack is. He is leaning back against some railings, arms folded, expression slightly frowning, slightly longing. It isn't the first time. Jack has been doing it more and more often since his return from his travels with the Doctor.

Since he found out Ianto has a girlfriend now.

It wasn't an unreasonable fact to process, that Ianto would meet a nice, sweet girl and make a go of having something halfway resembling an ordinary life. Jack seemed to be having a damned hell of a time doing just that though. When he'd found out - from Owen of course - the shocked smile plastered on his face as he attempted to disentangle his tongue to congratulate Ianto had been painful to see. The memory still makes Ianto surreptitiously wince.

He hears a huff, something akin to a sigh, and knows instinctively that Jack has moved. In fact, he is stepping closer. A sudden light-headedness overcomes Ianto and he has to fight to draw breath.

A few seconds pass and he knows, just knows, Jack is right behind him. His body is radiating heat, burning him. A brief strange notion about moths crosses Ianto's mind; he feels like a particularly unlucky one, being good and staying still, not going towards that beautiful deadly light, only to have the flame now coming towards him.

Arms snake around him, one at the hip, one at the chest, and hands press against him, palms tense and almost clutching. Jack's nose comes to rest on his shoulder and he can hear every stuttering breath coming from him.

‘I can't do this,' Jack whispers and turns his head aside a little, lips coming so close to Ianto's ear he feels it tingle.

Slightly, ever so slightly, he finds himself leaning back into the flame, wanting so much to have the strength to get away, knowing he can't.

‘I suppose the noble thing would be to step back. Wish you well. Let you live your life.'

‘You never did do noble all that well, Sir.'

‘Call me Jack.'

There is a desperation in his voice that makes Ianto's knees feel a little weak and the effect is only to have him lean back a little more, allowing his head to tilt back on Jack's shoulder, exposing his neck far more than he knows he should.

‘I think that would be inappropriate.'

The slightest turn of the hips from Jack has Ianto feeling something else somewhat inappropriate pressing against him, but he says nothing.

‘Answer me one thing,' Ianto asks, quietly. ‘You tell Gwen not to let it drift; to hold onto her normal life. So why is it so different for me?'

Jack chooses that moment to press his lips to Ianto's neck and groans, huskily, as Ianto finds himself pressing back into him just a tiny amount and moving his hips around in tiny circles. ‘Because I'm selfish,' he says, finally, moving with Ianto now. ‘I'm selfish and I can't do this.'

A hand presses over Jack's, the one held against Ianto's heart. They stay there, burning together for some time, before finally Ianto turns with an urgency that makes Jack start.

‘Jack,' Ianto murmurs and kisses him.

‘I'm sorry.' Jack grabs onto him tightly, almost lifting him from his feet, kissing him back for all he's worth.

Ianto lets his eyes slide closed and contemplates the possibility that moths don't have much to live for anyway. Perhaps being burned away is the best thing that could ever happen to such a creature, so long as the flame is sufficiently bright and beautiful enough to make such an inglorious end worthwhile.

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