Title: Talk About the Passion
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 25fluffyfics
Prompt: 19, Flowers
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.

***


The Doctor frowned, looking at the door of the Tardis as though he could make Ianto magically appear through it if he concentrated hard enough. He didn't know exactly how long Ianto had been gone, but it felt like a very long time.

He hadn't really known just why his young lover wanted to come to Earth, but Ianto had seemed to think it was important, and he hadn't questioned that. He also hadn't questioned it when the young man had told him that he was going out for a while.

Of course, he wasn't going to meet a lover, or anything of that sort. The Doctor would never have thought that; he knew that his relationship with Ianto was completely secure, and that he had no rival to worry about.

But he still couldn't help feeling uneasy when Ianto was away from him, though he knew that he had no reason to worry so much.

What could Ianto possibly have gone out for? As far as he knew, the young man hadn't left anything behind him when they'd made the decision for him to be with the Doctor permanently that he would have wanted to go back for. All that was behind him now.

And as far as he knew, Ianto wasn't going to visit anyone, either. If he had, then he would have taken the Doctor along with him; Ianto had assured him time and time again that he wanted everyone who was important in his life to know about their relationship.

So what could be the cause of them being here? It was a mystery to the Time Lord, but again, he didn't want to question his boyfriend about it. Ianto had his reasons for wanting to be here, and he would just have to trust his lover.

He'd learned so much about trust since he met Ianto, the Doctor reflected, leaning his head back against the couch cushions and looking up at the ceiling. He'd never met anyone who he'd had the kind of complete and utter confidence in, a trust that was unshakeable.

Yes, he'd trusted all of his companions -- with his life. But he'd never given any of them his hearts; he had never trusted them with that part of himself.

That was the difference between Ianto and any other companion he'd ever had. None of the others had ever been his lover; none of them had ever delved so deep into his soul that they'd become a part of him, seeming to melt into him so completely that they were one entity.

How many times had he read about someone doing that, and envied the fictional person who could find a love that was so fulfilling? He'd always thought that he would never know that sort of love, that it would always be a closed door to him.

But now, that door had been flung wide open; he'd not only achieved that kind of love, but found that it had been unbelievably easy to slip into. It hadn't been hard at all to give his hearts and his trust to Ianto, as well as his body. It had felt like the most natural thing in the world.

And here he was now, involved with someone so utterly and completely that he felt Ianto was almost an extension of himself. That had never happened with anyone he'd been with before; even when he'd been younger and thought he was in love, it had been nothing compared to this.

He sat up and looked towards the door as he heard Ianto's key scrape in the lock; that was an odd sound, and he'd felt strange about giving his boyfriend a key to the ship at first.

That was something else he didn't trust anyone else with. The Tardis wasn't only his home, his retreat, his sanctuary; she was bonded to him, a part of him that he didn't trust with anyone else. Until he'd met Ianto, he hadn't thought that he ever would.

But the Tardis had made it clear that she trusted Ianto, and that she had something of a bond with his lover as well. Of course, that bond was probably because of what the two of them shared, but it was something else that he wasn't going to question.

When Ianto first came through the door, he almost thought that he'd made a mistake and that the person headed towards him couldn't possibly be his lover; someone had overpowered Ianto and stolen his key, that was the only explanation.

That was ridiculous, he immediately chided himself. How would the person know what the key was to? Of course it was Ianto coming towards him across the control room.

Yes, that was Ianto. The same jeans, the same shoes, the same body that he knew so well. But it was a bit strange to see his boyfriend carrying such a large bouquet of flowers that his face was completely obscured.

"What --?" he began as Ianto came over to him, lowering the bouquet of red and white roses and peeking at the Doctor over the top of them. "Ianto, I do love flowers, but is this some sort of special occasion that I should be remembering?"

Ianto carefully set the flowers down on the small table by the couch before he joined the Doctor, sitting down beside him and sliding an arm around the Time Lord's slender waist. Pulling the other man close again him, Ianto bent his head to kiss his lover, still smiling.

"Of course it's a special occasion," he murmured, placing a finger under the Doctor's chin and tilting the other man's face up to his own. "Don't you remember? We've been together six months as of today, Doctor."

The Doctor's eyes widened; he couldn't believe that he'd forgotten something like that. He didn't often remember dates that seemed to be important to humans, because of his fluid concept of time, but he should have remembered this!

But Ianto was shaking his head, still smiling. "I didn't expect you to remember, love. I know dates aren't all that important to you."

"I still should have known," the Doctor said, feeling shamefaced. "I'm sorry, sweetheart." He looked over at the flowers, leaning over to bury his face in the bouquet. "They're beautiful, Ianto. And they smell absolutely heavenly."

"Don't they?" Ianto agreed. "And the colors mean a lot, too -- red for passion, white for purity. That's what my love for you is, Doctor." His voice softened on the words. "Passion -- you know that. And purity -- because my love for you is the purest part of my soul."

The Doctor blinked, holding back the tears that had sprung to his eyes when he heard those words. "That's beautiful, love," he whispered, unable to think of anything else to say. He'd known that Ianto loved him, but hearing such sentiments expressed aloud could always make him feel tearful.

And grateful -- more thankful than he'd ever been that he had someone in his life who was his other half, someone who loved him as much as Ianto did.

What had he done to deserve someone like this in his life? No matter how he tried, he didn't think that he would ever be worthy of this kind of devotion. Ianto would always assure him that he was, but he'd forever have his doubts.

Those doubts didn't matter, he told himself firmly, pushing them away from him. What mattered was that he did have Ianto, and that his love had found a beautiful way to express the love that they shared -- both with his words and the beautiful bouquet.

Other people could talk about the passion they shared, but he was sure that it was nothing compared to what he had with Ianto. The red flowers seemed to glow as he turned his eyes to them, signifying that passion that was already springing to life in his hearts.

"What do you say we take these into the bedroom -- where we may be able to appreciate them a bit better?" he said, turning to Ianto with a smile curving his lips.

"Oh, I think that's a marvelous idea," his young lover murmured, his voice soft and husky as he leaned towards the Doctor. When their lips met, the Time Lord closed his eyes, savoring the intensity of their kiss and knowing that it might be a while before the flowers made it into the bedroom.

His thoughts were confirmed just a few seconds later when Ianto stood up and bent to slide his arms under the Time Lord's body, scooping his lover up in his arms and carrying him towards their bedroom and leaving the heady perfume of the flowers behind.

***