Title: Not Coming Back
By: amuly
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Word Count: 1,233
Rating: soft R
Summary: Ianto realizes Jack is really gone, and isn’t coming back.
Warnings: Angst, then sap. Rimjob mention.
A/N: These two fics were separate prompt ideas, but when I wrote them they felt like they kind of fit together.

Companion fic to Packing Up.

 

            Ianto stepped into his flat, shucking off his shoes and locking the door. It was late, and he was tired. But he wouldn’t fall asleep anytime soon, he knew that. He would stay awake, fantasizing that he was just going to waltz in the front door. As if he would. He had never even been to Ianto’s flat when he had been around, why would he bother coming over now? Ianto knew all this, but he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Just like every other night since…

            Angrily Ianto strode into his kitchen, making himself a sandwich. As his teeth tore into the soft bread, all those thoughts and memories he successfully ignored during the day came to mind, insistent and adamant.

            “Jack.”

            “Ianto! What is it? Looking for some stopwatch fun? Because honestly, I think you might have nymphomania. Should get it checked out…”

            “Jack. Who’s the Doctor?”

            …

            “Jack.”

            “Finished organizing the 1930s yet?”

            “Jack…”

            “Because then you can start on the ‘40s.”

            “Jack.”

            “I’ll see you tonight.”

            It was Jack’s fault it had never become more. Him and his insistence to keep things close to his chest, to shut out everyone around him. Him and Ianto were comfortable with each other, that’s all. But it wasn’t like they were…it wasn’t…Ianto tore another bite from his sandwich. Angry chewing: cathartic. Ianto rolled his eyes at himself. But if Jack would just tell him things sometimes…

No. It was Ianto’s own fault it never became more, really. Once or twice Jack had seemed like he might have wanted to come over. But Ianto was…well, there was no use denying it to himself. He was scared. He was scared that if he let Jack come over, if he let Jack in, then…then exactly this would happen. Jack would leave him, and he would feel hurt, and alone. Of course, for all of his work not to let Jack get too close, he had managed anyway. Now everyday Ianto got to go to work and be reminded of Jack. See every place they had screwed, or touched, or argued or laughed…

Ianto stared down at his half-eaten sandwich in disgust. Suddenly he wasn’t so hungry anymore. He threw the sandwich out, perhaps with more violence than strictly necessary. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered. Ianto scrubbed at his face. This was stupid. Jack had left. So what. Ianto knew he might leave someday, and he knew that they were just fooling around. Sort of. Sometimes it felt like Jack might think it was more. No, no. It hadn’t felt like more: Ianto had fooled himself into thinking that it was more. Because obviously it wasn’t to Jack.

            “Ianto!”

            “Yes, sir?”

            “Mm, I love it when you call me sir.”

            “I’ll make a note of it, sir.”

            “Ooo, say it again…”

            “What would you like to do tonight, sir?”

            “Mmm. I was thinking you’d stay over, for a change? My bunk is small, but…”

            “All the better. Gives you an excuse to cuddle.”

            “Well, you know how much I love to cuddle.”

            “I’ve made a note of it, sir.”

            It wasn’t more. He was just a warm body to keep Jack company as he waited for his Doctor. And Ianto should have remembered that. Should have, but he didn’t. Jack had saved him, had taken him into his arms after Lisa and welcomed him back, held him, quieted the depression and self-doubt that had raged through him in the months that followed. And Ianto thought he was helping Jack, was giving him something he needed. But apparently Jack didn’t need anything from him. What he needed, Ianto thought bitterly, was only something his Doctor could give.

            Ianto went to his bedroom, stripping down and washing up before bed. He put in Goldfinger, just to cheer himself up. Bond movies hadn’t helped for the past two weeks, but who knows? Maybe it would help tonight.

            Ianto sighed, crawling into bed. He curled up on his side and stared at the wall, willing himself to sleep. He knew he wouldn’t. He hadn’t yet, any of these past nights. Not for any significant amount of time, and certainly not anything restful.

            At first, when Jack had first left, Ianto thought he had just gone Weevil hunting. Then they checked the CCTV footage and saw Jack running for the blue box. Ianto knew what it was, what it meant. He had worked at Torchwood One, after all. Still, Ianto had held out hope that Jack would return. After all, the Doctor was a time traveler. Jack could travel with him for years, then return to Torchwood a day after he left. But he hadn’t. Which means he probably wasn’t coming back. He had forgotten them, and Ianto, or he had grown tired of them, or felt betrayed by them.

            Ianto’s hand drifted beneath the sheets as he remembered that last kiss. Jack had forgiven him in that moment, hadn’t he? Ianto thought…with the kiss…Ianto stroked himself, flaccid penis slowly growing harder. He missed Jack. Missed his smell, and his arms wrapped tight around him, and even that stupid, goofy smile he wore whenever he pissed Ianto off. Ianto grunted softly as he continued to stroke.

            “Wait, Ianto, I was wondering…”

            “Yes, Jack?”

            “Mm…keep doing that…I was wondering, you’re always bottom…”

            “I thought you liked being on top.”

            “Oh, Ianto, there, keep…but, no, I thought that, if you were interested…”

            “Would you like me to top tonight?”

            “Only if…damn it, Ianto…finish what you…started…”

            As he slid his thumb over the head, pressing down into the slit, Ianto thought back. His eyes fluttered closed. Jack’s hands on him, roving and caressing and feeling like they were trying to memorize each centimeter. Jack’s tongue, tracing a line down to…Ianto groaned. And Jack’s body beneath him, strong thighs pulling him in, deep, body clenching around him, beautiful face thrown back in ecstasy, lips red, cheeks red, cock red…

            With a groan and a stutter of his hips, Ianto came in his hand. Fuck. He grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and cleaned it up. Captain Jack Harkness. Ianto curled up into a ball, feeling like complete shit. Pathetic. Jerking off into his hand over the memory of some guy he would never see again…Ianto ignored the tears tracking down his face. It was his fault! He had told Ianto…he had…he thought he needed him…

Somehow, Ianto felt himself drifting off to sleep. The soft glow from the telly flickered over his face, illuminating the tears still slipping between closed lashes. If only he could just sleep, and forget. Forget the man that never really cared, that left him. He wasn’t good enough; he wasn’t enough to make Jack stay. He was just another in a long line of warm bodies, to be forgotten the second that bloody Doctor showed up. He was…he was just…nothing. Nothing to Jack.

            “Hey, Ianto? You awake?”

            …

            “Are you faking?”

            …

            “If you wake up right now, I’ll give you a rimjob.”

            …

            “Guess you’re asleep. Ianto, I just thought I’d…I care about you, you know? You’re gorgeous, smart, and funny…so, just to…if I ever leave, just know, it’s not because of you. And if I don’t have time to say goodbye, I’ll come back. Even if it’s just to say goodbye, I won’t just leave you.”

            …

            “You’re…I…you’re beautiful, Ianto Jones. And I’ll come back. For you.”