Title: Tea & Sympathy
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 11
Prompt: 26, Sick
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own Ianto Jones or the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

***

Ianto sighed softly as he made his way down the hallway to the bedroom, carrying a box of tissues and a full teapot. He hadn't known that aliens could come down with something like the common cold, but then, there was so much that he didn't know about the Doctor, wasn't there? So much that he still had to learn about his lover.

He winced when he heard a rather insistent sneeze from the bedroom, hastening his steps down the hall and into the room. The Doctor was curled up in their bed, propped up against the headboard and hugging one of the smaller pillows against his chest. He looked utterly miserable, so much so that Ianto would have laughed if he didn't feel sorry for the Gallifreyan. After all, he had personal experience with how wretched having a cold could make one feel.

The Doctor moved his legs over, making room for Ianto to sit down on the bed and looking over at the young Welshman. "Being a nursemaid can't be much fun for you, love. I'm sorry about this," he said, reaching out to take Ianto's hand.

Ianto curled his fingers around the Doctor's, squeezing the thin hand in his gently. "There's no need to be sorry, beloved. Everyone gets sick once in a while .... even you." He wasn't sure if he should make the last words more of a question; he didn't want to annoy the Doctor by asking what was sure to be perceived as a personal question.

The Doctor sighed, shaking his head. "I don't often get ill," he murmured, turning his head to sneeze again, sniffling before he continued. "But it seems that I'm as susceptible to the common cold as any human." He wrinkled his nose, making a face. Ianto supposed that he wasn't too keen on sharing that particular trait with the human race.

"I know how frustrating it can feel to be ill," he said softly, wishing that there was something he could do to soothe the Doctor. The Time Lord had only been confined to their bed for a day, and already he was showing symptoms of going absolutely stir crazy. Ianto had a hard time keeping him in bed; apparently, Gallifreyans weren't good patients. He was beginning to feel that he'd have to tie the Doctor down to keep him there.

Now, that was an idea with possibilities. Ianto couldn't help smiling to himself at the thought of the Doctor in such a compromising position, at his mercy.

"What are you smiling about?" The Time Lord's eyes had narrowed, and he was looking at Ianto suspiciously. "The last time you had an expression like that on your face, I wasn't able to get dressed for an entire weekend." The Doctor looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing on the same train of thought. "Not that I really minded ...."

Ianto laughed softly, leaning over to press a gentle kiss against the Time Lord's cheek. He wanted to kiss the Doctor, but he didn't dare; both of them didn't need to be bedridden with colds they couldn't get rid of. He wasn't sure just how virulently the cold virus would affect a Gallifreyan, but he hoped the Doctor didn't fall seriously ill.

"Just how badly are you affected by a cold?" he inquired, trying not to sound as anxious as he felt. He was terrified of seeing the Doctor ill, with himself unable to do anything to ease his love's suffering. The thought had kept him awake the night before, hovering over the Doctor as he slept, searching for signs that his breathing was more labored -- or any signs that he was getting worse.

The Doctor shrugged, looking at Ianto with raised brows. "No more than the average human, thank goodness. I don't believe that the cold germ is something that discriminates according to species," he said dryly, shaking his head. He put out a hand to reach blindly for a tissue, barely managing to bring it to his face to sneeze into it.

Ianto frowned, pushing the Doctor back onto the pillows and settling him. "I don't want you to get out of bed today," he said firmly, trying to sound as authoritative as he could. "You'll get better more quickly if you take care of yourself."

"What if I don't want to stay in bed?" The Doctor sounded more petulant than Ianto had ever heard him; one glance at his face almost made the young man burst into uncontrollable laughter. The Time Lord actually looked like a petulant child, reclining on the pillows with his arms crossed and his lower lip thrust out in a pout.

A truly adorable pout. A pout that Ianto couldn't resist.

"Would it help if I stayed in bed with you?" he asked, smiling and reaching out to cup the Doctor's chin in one hand. He couldn't keep his hands off the Time Lord, even when the Doctor was ill; somehow, the thought of him being in need of care only made Ianto the more fiercely protective of him.

The Doctor brightened perceptibly, sitting up and moving over to make room for Ianto on the pillow next to him before frowning and biting his lip. "Are you sure that you won't catch a cold?" he asked, sounding more worried than Ianto thought the situation called for.

Ianto was a bit concerned about the same thing himself, but he wasn't going to pass up a chance to cuddle up with the Doctor -- especially if his love wasn't feeling well. It was worth risking a few days of sniffling and sneezing to be able to feel that he was giving comfort to his lover when it was most needed.

And, of course, there was also the fact that he had a very hard time keeping his hands off the Doctor's body, even when the Time Lord was feeling under the weather.

Indicating the teapot, he raised his eyebrows at the Doctor, asking a silent question. He was getting very good at that, Ianto reflected -- he and the Doctor had begun to develop a silent communication between themselves, a rapport that he'd never had with anyone else. Not Lisa, not Jack. It was almost as though the Doctor had discovered something in him that had been lying dormant, just waiting for the Time Lord to bring it to life.

Ianto made a mental note to himself to talk with the Doctor about that once the Time Lord was feeling better. It was something that he'd noticed seemed to be growing, this ability for him to communicate silently with his lover -- not only telepathically, as the Doctor did, but emotionally. It was both intriguing and a bit frightening.

The Doctor shook his head, bringing Ianto back to the question at hand. "Not right now, love. I don't think I could stomach drinking anything." The Time Lord made a wry face, holding out a hand in appeasement a moment later. "Not that there's anything wrong with your tea, love. Just not feeling the need of it at the moment."

Ianto nodded, turning back the covers and slipping into bed beside the Doctor. Turning on his side, he pulled the Time Lord close against the warmth of his body, letting the Gallifreyan get comfortable before pulling the covers back up around them.

The Doctor sighed softly, resting his cheek against Ianto's chest and closing his eyes, his slender body relaxing in his lover's arms. "Suddenly, being ill doesn't seem so bad. I suppose it could be a lot worse," he murmured, thin arms wrapping around Ianto's waist, silky hair falling into his eyes.

Ianto ruffled his love's hair, a smile curving his lips as he settled more comfortably against the pillows. "Yes, it could. You could be so ill that you'd be in hospital, with nubile young nurses attempting to take your temperature by shoving a thermometer up your arse. I doubt you'd enjoy that -- well, at least not too much," he teased.

The Time Lord stuck out his tongue, making a face at Ianto that had the young man almost doubling over with laughter. It felt good to laugh, to be happy, to forget the cares of the rest of the world that awaited him when he went back to Torchwood -- and the even weightier cares of the universe that rested on the Doctor's slender shoulders.

"You are the only person who's shoving anything up my arse," the Doctor said firmly, the tone of his voice bringing another smile to Ianto's face. Though he certainly couldn't argue -- he wholeheartedly agreed with the Doctor's words.

"I certainly am," he murmured, unable to resist lowering his head to press a kiss to the Time Lord's soft mouth. Oh, well -- if he caught the Doctor's cold, then he'd have to deal with it when it happened. It was useless to worry about something until it actually came to pass.

The Time Lord made a soft sound of satisfaction, his arms tightening around Ianto's waist and his eyes closing. Ianto brushed his lips across the Doctor's forehead, feeling his lover's slim body relax in his arms. He hoped that the Doctor would be able to get some sleep -- actually, that they both would. He hadn't been sleeping well lately himself.

"Go to sleep, love," he whispered, reaching to switch off the lamp on the bedside table. "You need to rest, and you'll feel better in the morning."

"Yes," the Doctor murmured, already drifting off. His breathing was already becoming slow and even, a sure sign that he was falling into sleep.

Ianto smiled softly, closing his own eyes and snuggling down into the pillows with his love clasped in his arms. There were still a lot of things on his mind -- but for now, he'd let them go, and concentrate on helping the Doctor feel better.

It was funny how the common cold could bring species together, he mused, his last thought before sleep claimed him, the cadence of his own breathing matching the Doctor's as he sank into the oblivion of dreams.

***