Title: If Wishes Were Horses
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: PG
Table: 1, 50scenes
Prompt: 33, Wish
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor or Jack Harkness. Please do not sue.

***

The Doctor sighed to himself, putting down the pen in his hand and stretching his arms above his head. He'd never been good at writing letters, he reflected, looking down at the paper propped on the book in his lap and making a face. And writing a letter trying to tell someone why he would have to leave them for a while wasn't exactly his cup of tea.

He and Ianto were drawing closer together with every day that passed; it would tear his heart out to leave the young Welshman behind, but it had been an inevitability ever since they had met. Of course, he would come back, and stay with Ianto as long as he could. But he would always have to leave. He had responsibilities that he couldn't ignore.

If only he could chuck it all, turn his back on the rest of the universe and only have to worry about satisfying himself. Stay with Ianto, let their budding relationship develop, immerse himself in the beautiful Welsh boy and allow himself to pretend that he was more human than he'd ever dared to dream of being.

He couldn't. That was the long and short of it. He couldn't turn his back on everything else in his world, simply to make himself happy. The Doctor snorted to himself, shaking his head. Happiness. Had he ever been truly happy in all of his lives? Only here and there, in small increments. Never the kind of happiness that lasted. Happiness, for him, was always ephemeral.

He lifted the pen again, gazing at the paper and chewing thoughtfully at his lower lip. How could he put his feelings into words? "Ianto, I'm falling in love with you, but I have to leave." No, somehow that didn't have much of a ring to it. He wanted to reassure Ianto that he would be back, that this separation was only temporary, not make their parting sound final.

The Doctor leaned his head back against the sofa cushions, looking up at the ceiling of Ianto's apartment without really seeing it. He felt comfortable here. He felt as though he belonged here. It wasn't just that he was falling in love, real love, for the first time in all of his lives. It was something beyond emotions, something esoteric that he couldn't quite touch.

Maybe it was just because Ianto lived here; his presence permeated the small apartment no matter where the Doctor turned. His books lining the bookcases, his clothes neatly hanging in the closet and folded in the chest of drawers. Everything in the apartment was so Ianto, so safe, so familiar, so comforting.

It was a warm, protected ambiance, something that the Doctor thought he could almost reach out and touch. A feeling of security, of .... love? He frowned, considering. He knew that Ianto's feelings for him had already crossed over a line that he hadn't dared to let himself step past yet. But he was getting there. More rapidly than he wanted to admit.

The Time Lord took the sheet of paper in his hand, crumpling it and throwing it to the floor. It was the third aborted attempt to write something that woudln't disillusion Ianto, that would make him realize the importance of the Doctor leaving him, even if only briefly, that would soothe his fears of abandonment. It was also impossible to write.

He wished with everything in him that he was better at communicating, at touching his emotions. Since the advent of Ianto Jones in his life, he'd become much better with it, but he was still hesitant, still fearful. Still afraid of that tenuous line of connection breaking, of losing Ianto and having to continue on throughout time alone.

And if wishes were horses, beggars would ride, the Doctor told himself, allowing himself a wry little smile at the absurdity of the old human saying. It was something he'd never quite managed to understand before -- but then, he'd never wished for something quite like this. He'd never wished for anything so much in all of his many lives.

Yes. Yes, he had. He'd wished to stay with Ianto above anything else, to be able to surrender himself, hearts and soul, to the beautiful Welsh boy and never have to be parted from him. That wish had haunted his dreams, as well as his every waking thought. The vision of Ianto was never far from his mind's eye, and he was never out of the Time Lord's thoughts.

He sighed again, resting his forehead on his hand. He couldn't elucidate those feelings, couldn't put everything in his hearts into words. He'd have to talk with Ianto face to face, hold him, kiss him, soothe him. Let him know that no matter what it seemed like, this was only a temporary situation. That he owned the Doctor's hearts, and always would.

His head snapped up, eyes widening. Ianto was his destiny. He knew that. His soul mate. The one who he was meant to bond with, in a way that he'd never been able to bond with any companion, any other living being. Bonded in a way that even the Tardis couldn't compete with. Ianto was his other half, the puzzle piece that fit neatly into place to complete him.

Could it be possible that Ianto was meant to come with him? Oh, not in the way of a companion -- he would never put the Welsh boy into the kind of danger that many of his companions had regularly faced, not if he could help it -- but because they were so deeply bonded that there was no way they could be parted, even for a short time, without dire consequences?

He was grasping at straws. He was almost sure of that. But the small part of himself that argued for the truth of the possibility wouldn't let him let go of the thought, or dismiss it as unlikely. The more he considered it, the more it seemed plausible. After all, he was meant to be accompanied. Why shouldn't it be Ianto who came with him?

If only he could know that this was absolutely the right thing to do .... the Doctor heaved yet another sigh, putting aside the paper and pen. Another wish. It would be nice to have three of them -- at the least -- that could be granted by some genie popping magically from a bottle. But no. He had to make his wishes come true by his own actions.

There was the scratching sound of a key in the lock, and the door opened, Ianto stepping through it a moment later. His eyes lit up as he took in the sight of the Doctor on the sofa, half-turned towards the door. The Welsh boy let his coat slide from his shoulders, shaking the raindrops from it and hanging it neatly on the coat rack as he closed the door.

"You look thoughtful," he said softly, loosening his tie as he came to the sofa to sit down beside the Doctor. His grey-blue eyes studied the Time Lord intently, worry in their depths. "Is there anything I can help with? Or at least try to help?"

The Doctor shook his head, turning to face Ianto and taking a deep breath. It was now or never, his chance to tell Ianto what was in his hearts; and it was past time that he stepped past his emotional barriers and let the boy know just how he felt, to give him hope for their future.

He raised both hands to Ianto's face, soft fingertips stroking the velvety skin for a few seconds before he leaned forward and placed his lips on that soft, full mouth. The Doctor's senses reeled; he hadn't expected kissing Ianto to feel like this. It was like falling into the softest, downiest, most welcoming bed imaginable, safe, warm and protected.

It was like .... coming home.

He didn't have to wish that he knew the words to tell Ianto how he felt. He didn't need words. All he needed was the emotion crowding up from his his hearts, filling every fiber of his being. Who needed words when he felt like this?

Everything that he had planned to say, every word he'd been trying to think of, fled from his mind. There was only Ianto, those lips, the strong arms wrapping around him, those soft lips under his. There was nothing but the two of them, the rest of the universe fading away to nothingness.

"I love you," he whispered against Ianto's mouth. There. He'd said it. The words that he'd never uttered to anyone else with anything near the same force of meaning.

"I love you too." Ianto's voice was barely a murmur, yet the words couldn't have sounded more clear and strong to the Doctor's ears.

"Come with me," he whispered, pulling away slightly to stroke his palm down the side of Ianto's face. That beautiful face, that face that he wanted to wake to every morning and fall asleep beside every night.

"Anywhere," the Welsh boy replied, pulling the Doctor into his arms and leaning into another kiss.

The Doctor could feel his hearts expanding, almost threatening to break out of his chest, as though his slim, fragile body couldn't contain all the love that he felt for this boy in his arms.

No, he definitely didn't need words.

***