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It’d been so long ago. So bloody long ago and he still….Ianto wanted to get over it. He did. Jack was back after months of waiting, and things were good. Things were great, actually. He could feed Myfanwy without feeling the urge to grab his gun and blow her beak off, and on a good day (and most days were good days) he could even smell barbecue sauce without wanting to vomit. But the hollowness….
Jack was trying. He was, really. There were now two toothbrushes in Ianto’s flat. Two razors. A drawer filled with blue dress shirts, white t-shirts, and trousers that toed the line between well-tailored and too well-tailored. But it still wasn’t enough sometimes. These little signs of domesticity, they were precautions in case Jack decided to stay the night. Nothing permanent. Ianto knew not to ask for anything that required permanency.
He was grateful for those two toothbrushes standing up side by side. A smile flitted across his face whenever they caught his eye, reminding him of the day he and Jack had gone out to do the shopping. Jack had insisted that Ianto get a red toothbrush and he get a blue toothbrush, so it’d be obvious which was which. After placing them in the basket, he’d moved on, leaving Ianto to follow him in a lovestruck daze. Toothbrushes were a stupid thing to get so giddy over. He knew that. But that little detail was the biggest hint that maybe Jack really would stick around this time. At least for now, until the Doctor came crashing down again.
But it never really helped. Not in the moments when Lisa’s horrible screams still filled his ears as he bolted up from bed after a nightmare. It’d been so long, and they just wouldn’t stop. He tried to remember what Jack had said all those months ago. “It won’t always be like this.” And he was right. Weeks could go by now without being forced to relive that awful night while he slept. Most of the time, he actually felt rested, a feeling that had escaped him since Canary Wharf. But those images would always come back, sometimes to twist and shake his memories in the light of day.
Just last Tuesday, Tosh had caught him staring blankly at his coffee maker, completely unaware that he’d been standing there with a fog over his eyes for a good minute or two. The nightmare had been playing and replaying over and over again, projected onto the silver shine of his beloved machine. No coffee was going to fix that, or blue toothbrushes, or hard fucks followed by resting his head on Jack’s chest, listening to his beating heart. It was still lonely, still desperately difficult when Jack wasn’t there to whisper soothing words that could back Ianto away from a panic attack at 3 o’clock in the morning.
He could ask Jack to stay. Ask him to move out of that cramped bunker and into a flat that was too big for one person. But he wouldn’t.
...
“You’re doing it again.”
The sudden voice behind him caused Ianto to flinch as he turned to see Owen looking at him. “Doing what?”
“Staring off into space. Yeah, Tosh told me about that little episode in front of the coffee maker.”
Ianto gave him a brief blank expression before turning back around to continue polishing their table. Pizza boxes constantly littered the surface, as no one else felt the need to clean up after themselves. Using his rag to scrape away at some cheese that had dried on a corner of the table, he shrugged. “People do that sometimes when they’re thinking. I know you’re not used to that concept, but it’s common enough. Nothing to make a fuss about.”
The cold shoulder in action, then. With a gentle roll of his eyes, Owen walked around the table and sat on the sofa. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch Ianto’s eye. “Yeah, people do do that, but you don’t. You multitask. What’s been going on with you lately?”
“I multitask. Have you been watching me, Owen? You know, one would start to think--”
“Oh, cut the bullshit. I know you. As your doctor and as your friend--don’t give me that look, I am your friend, and I know something is wrong. Is it Lisa?”
A pit started to carve itself into Ianto’s stomach as he gripped the rag tighter.
“I knew it. You kept mentioning her when we were out in Hengoed, kept going on about how you’ve gotta prove yourself and whatever. Why now? What’s going on?”
“Owen, leave it. I’m fine. And get your foot off the table, I just polished that!”
“I’ll move it when you tell me what’s going on!”
Chest heaving, Ianto picked up his cleaning supplies and turned to walk away. Owen’s desk needed cleaning up. It always did. Balled up napkins and takeaway receipts and some bloke’s number that Owen never bothered to call and paperwork that still needed to be finished so he could file it away in the archives and--
“Ianto! Stop fidgeting about and listen to me, or I’ll stun gun you.”
Trying his best to slow his breathing to a normal rate, he faced Owen. “I still have nightmares. After all this time, months and months, I still do. Even the ones after the Brecon Beacons didn’t last this long. What’re you supposed to do about that, Dr. Harper? You’re not my therapist.”
His shoulders fell from their defensive position as he took in Owen’s face. Worry, grief, and determination passed over his expression on what seemed like a never-ending loop, and that pit in Ianto’s stomach only grew deeper. He didn’t mean to snap at Owen like that. For once, he really was just trying to offer help, no twatish side effects included. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t think you can help.”
“Well, maybe you’re right, mate. Maybe I can’t. But what about, you know, Jack or something?”
“No. Jack’s done enough, and we’re all busy. He doesn’t need another thing on his plate right now, especially with having to wake Tommy up soon, and--”
Owen held up a hand to stop him. “Okay, so not Jack. Again, maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re just being a stubborn arse. Either way, not Jack. But someone else. Get yourself a real therapist if you have to.”
“...I’ve tried it. It doesn’t work out. There’re just...too many lies in our line of work.”
“Alright, alright, fair. No therapist.” A crease appeared between his eyebrows before the proverbial light bulb went off. “Hang on....” He skirted past Ianto and fell into his desk chair. Hunched over the keyboard, his eyes scanned the monitor. A few clicks of the mouse, and Owen was swiveling his chair around to look at the apathetic mask Ianto wore. He beckoned him over to look at the screen. “Have you ever heard of emotional support animals?”
The signature eyebrow went up as he looked over Owen’s shoulder. A website for a nearby animal adoption center was pulled up. “Aren’t those supposed to be for kids in hospitals?”
“Yeah, yeah, the typical big smiley golden retriever usually comes to mind, but it’s not just that. There’s serious science behind this. I’m not saying you have to go register for an official one; that probably takes more time and paperwork than necessary. Just getting a regular pet could help. You know, someone else to look after. Take your mind off of things. Stop giving me that look, this could be what you need! And you’re not leaving yourself many more options. At least you’ll never have to lie to a pet about why you’re late from work.”
As much as Ianto hated to admit it, Owen had a point. When Jack wasn’t at the flat, it could become too empty to bear. White walls became mirages that could either stretch out for miles or cave in on him. When Jack wasn’t at the flat, the possibility of waking up shaking was that much more difficult to face. Maybe Ianto did need someone there with him, even if that someone couldn’t exactly hold him. It was better than sobbing into the empty air.
“I’m not really a dog person. And Torchwood wouldn’t allow the sort of dependency dogs have on their owners anyways.”
“A cat, then. Or a lizard. Something to help you out so we can all get our coffee on time without you going all spacey on us.” He sighed in the way that lets you know that he’s about to say something he might regret later. “And...I just need to know you’re alright. Nightmares...they can be tough. I get that.”
“Aw, Owen, you really do care.”
“Shut it,” he muttered over his shoulder, already headed towards the med bay at the first sign of reciprocated sentiment. “Get yourself a bloody pet or I’ll do it myself. And I’ll make sure it’s an ugly rat, just for you.”
...
It wasn’t Jack’s fault they were both so stressed lately. The recent increase of rogue weevils had them all on edge, for starters. Plus Tommy’s short holiday out of the cryochamber was coming soon, and they were often short on staff now that Gwen’s wedding planning was starting to pick up. But he couldn’t help but wonder about Jack’s reaction when the subject of getting a pet was first broached. It’d been the next day, while the two of them nursed their first cup of morning coffee.
“And...Owen thinks this is what’s best for you. Why?”
A shrug. “He thinks it’d be good for me to have someone to look after. Someone to take my mind of off...everything.” He tried to filter out any bitterness in his voice, he really did. Judging by the way Jack’s lips pursed, it didn’t quite work. Still, Jack’s tone was congenial, if not quite that of a supportive lover.
“Makes sense. I’ve known plenty of soldiers over the years who’ve benefited from having therapy pets around. Torchwood operatives less so, but maybe you’ll start a trend.” He gave him one of those dazzling Harkness smiles, and that more than anything else made Ianto’s heart sink. Because he knew better than anyone else how hollow those smiles could be. Fine. It didn’t matter. The cat--yes, a cat, he decided--wasn’t for Jack. For once, Jack’s approval wasn’t required.
...
Sleek gray fur created a stark contrast against the two green eyes that peered out at Ianto from behind the cage door, bright and beckoning. Every few seconds he’d glance away from the road and stare back at the creature, trying to decipher what she was thinking. Probably something along the lines of, “What’s a knob like you doing taking me away from my home?”
Or maybe not.
He thought back to when he first came across her picture on the rescue centre’s website. It was cliché to consider all cats intelligent and cunning, but there seemed to be truth to that stereotype in this one. Adoption websites always have cheesy personality descriptions written from the point of view of the cat, and the website he found her on was no exception. According to the poor employee who wrote the description, the cat was, “shrewd and a little shy at first,” but, “clever and as gracious as a princess,” once she came out of her shell. He glanced down at those eyes again and decided that maybe--once they began to understand one another--they’d get along. After all, he was the last one to judge being a little reserved.
...
Being the brains behind this plan in the first place, Owen insisted on being the first to meet the new edition to Ianto’s household. The only other fulltime member, Ianto thought, but he’d never say that out loud. If he sounded needy, he was needy, and that couldn’t happen. This thing with Jack was just that: a thing. Not defined, not labeled. Just existing. And if he started acting needy, like he always did, then Jack would start to get the idea that this thing was starting to take shape, at least on one end. And then he’d leave again. Well. At least he had his cat now. For once, he had someone who was as reliant on him as he was on them.
Not half an hour had passed after Ianto and the cat had come home before Owen appeared behind the door. Pizza box in hand, he strolled in without waiting for a hello. “Alright, where’s the fur ball? I wanna see it before we eat, and this pizza’s getting cold.”
“First of all, she’s not an it. Second of all, I’ve hardly gotten to see her. She’s been hiding under my sofa since we got home.”
“Peas in a pod, you two.” He bent down on his hands and knees to search under the sofa, scanning the slit of darkness before locking onto those too green eyes. His fingertips gently tapped across the floor, trying in vain to coax her out. Eventually, he had to accept defeat. “Well, she’s beautiful alright. At least, from what I can see.” Heaving himself back up, he brushed a little dust off the knees of his trousers. “She got a name yet?”
Ianto beamed. “Her name is Leia,” he said, sounding like that fact was possibly too much for his nerdy heart to bear.
Owen snorted. “Leave it to you to give your cat a Star Wars name.”
“Well I wasn’t about to name her after someone from James Bond.” He instantly knew from Owen’s lecherous grin that mentioning Bond was a big mistake.
“What, no Pussy Galore?”
“Owen!” He pushed him towards the dining table. “Eat your cold pizza,” he grumbled, dropping into a chair and ripping a slice away, watching the cheese string snap. “And stop making innuendos about my cat. She’s above all that.”
“Please tell me you’re not going to suddenly go crazy cat lady on us. If I’d known that’s where this was headed, I wouldn’t’ve suggested it in the first place.”
“I can’t make any promises. Too early to say.”
...
Jack’s glare looked like it could singe Ianto’s eyebrows off, but Ianto knew better than to miss the pout behind his boyfriend’s angry expression. “What d’you mean, I still can’t come to the flat?”
The day he’d gotten Leia, Ianto had banned him from visiting after Owen’s poor attempt to meet the cat. Maybe that had knocked Jack down more pegs than he had expected it would. “It’s just for a few days. Cats get overstimulated really easily. It makes sense that she might want to hide from me for awhile. If I make the new experiences come gradually, maybe she’ll adjust at her own pace and come out to play when she’s ready.”
The frown only seemed to grow deeper, more concerned. Seemingly shaking whatever emotion he was feeling away, Jack turned back to the unfinished file open on his desk. The sound of his pen scratching against the paper was deafening. “I don’t get why you couldn’t just get a dog. They’re so much easier. None of this hiding nonsense. They love you instantly, automatically. No fuss.”
Ianto considered this for a moment. It seemed a little unfair to Leia, and to cats in general. Why should they suffer just because Jack wasn’t willing to put in the effort? Imagine what it’d be like if Jack had children; it’d be a nightmare….On second thought, Ianto decided that maybe he didn’t want to imagine that. For several reasons. “Just because you’re not patient enough for a cat, doesn’t mean I’m not. I have faith in her. Now, if you need me--for professional purposes,” he quickly added, “use the comms. I’ll be in the archives.” And with that, he glided out of the office as smoothly as he’d glided in, if a little more put out.
...
With the Rift playing dead and his filing all sorted out, Ianto went back to his flat within an hour of his conversation with Jack. His words and the meaning behind them played over and over in Ianto’s mind, allowing his hands gliding across the steering wheel to switch onto autopilot. Why did it seem like all dog people hated cats? Did all dog people secretly hate cats because they were more effort than they were willing to put into a pet? Did all dog people secretly hate introverts for the same reason? Did Jack resent Ianto for being so reserved sometimes? Whoa. Okay. Big jump from conclusion to conclusion there. Maybe slow down a bit. Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, he parked his car and headed up to his flat.
As soon as the door opened, a streak of gray darted under the sofa. Deftly placing his suit jacket on the back of a chair, his posture instantly deflated. “Only me,” he muttered, kicking off his shoes as he settled in on the cushion next to the one Leia had claimed. With the television volume on low, Ianto started their evening routine. Sit and wait. If nothing happened, that was fine. If something did happen--if they made just a little more progress--brilliant.
Another night of Chinese takeaway and flipping through channels later, Ianto was again going to bed without success. Once he’d fallen asleep, Leia would sneak out and eat her food, drink her water, find another hiding spot, and the routine would start all over. And that was fine.
...
Up ahead, the light of Ianto’s torch reflected against something lost in the darkness. Just the tiniest glimpse before it disappeared again. He ran as fast as he could down the corridor, his free hand skimming the wall, begging to bump into a light switch. The fog seemed to lift from his head, his ears clearing up as sounds bounced off the walls, towards him. Metal clinking together. He laughed under his breath as he started singing to himself. “When a man's an empty kettle, he should be on his mettle, and yet I'm torn apart. Just because I'm presumin' that I could be kinda human, if I--” Vomit broke through the lyrics and up his throat, gushing as a mixture of barbecue and blood wafted up his nose.
Gasping, Ianto opened his eyes. Moonlight guided his shaking hand over to the glass of lukewarm water on his bedside table. Gulp after gulp until it was too much, too fast, and he was sputtering and coughing it back up. He cupped his mouth, his hands a poor but necessary substitute for a paper bag as the panic surged through him again. Eyes closed and focusing on his breathing, he slowly started to calm down. He swore under his breath as he used the duvet to mop up the spilt water. Setting his glass back down, Ianto did not hear tiny pats across the hardwood floors of the bedroom, did not hear the leap onto the mattress. However, he certainly felt the strange pressure on his calf. Bolting up, he watched, stunned as Leia flinched for a moment before collecting herself. Determined, she continued to crawl up his body until she had reached his chest.
Her gaze washed over his face, over and over again, until it seemed she had finally come to a decision. Turning in a circle, her paws gently kneaded Ianto’s t-shirt before she settled down, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Several moments passed before the wires in Ianto’s brain could reconnect themselves. A gentle hand laid itself across Leia’s back, petting her, eliciting a steady purr. The vibrations echoed through his chest, reaching his heart. It slowed its beating gradually until he and Leia were in sync. The warmth of her body, surprisingly soothing, spread throughout, bringing in waves of drowsiness. Eyelids fluttering shut, Ianto slipped back into the haze of sleep.
...
It was three days later when Jack was finally allowed to step back into the flat. It’d been a exhausting day of lobster-like aliens the size of German shepherds, scuttling through Canal Park. Ianto, who’d gotten the worst of the attack (“Just a small cut. Nothing to worry about.”), had gone home early to recuperate. So by the time Jack was kicking his boots off and hanging up his greatcoat, his boyfriend was already curled up against the corner of the sofa, Leia lounging around his shoulders like a scarf. A loud huff dropped out of Jack’s chapped lips as he glanced at the pair before heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. “Comfortable, you two?”
“Very.” He sat up, gently readjusting the both of them so Jack could stay in his line of vision without disturbing Leia. “Come back, you haven’t been properly introduced yet.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of that.” He leaned back against the counter, eyeing them over the rim of his glass. Keeping his distance.
Ianto rolled his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Why would you think something was wrong?”
“Because you’re being standoffish. It might’ve been a long day at work, but it wasn’t a horrible one. No casualties, no reason to brood. So no reason from work to be standoffish. What’s going on?”
“Have you redecorated the place? I don’t remember that painting being--”
“Oh.” A pang shot through his chest, swiftly covered up by another roll of his eyes. “I’m sorry you haven’t been able to be here.”
“It’s fine. I get it. Princess Leia needs her space.”
“Would you stop saying her name like that? Listen, I’m sorry she’s taken her time, but it was only a few days! The Hub is comfortable enough; you lived there for years. I don’t get why you’re making such a big deal about it.”
“You seriously don’t--?” He let out another huff before turning his back on Ianto, getting more to drink. The ice bounced off the lowball glass, creating loud cracks through the silence. A pause as Jack watched the water swirl around the ice, then settle into stillness. “I just don’t understand why you need a therapy cat at all. I’m here most nights...I’ve been trying to help.”
Despite the tension, despite the walls built up, despite the seriousness of it all, Ianto slowly cracked a smile. It curled across his face and morphed into a giggle, then a full-on laugh. “Oh God, are you actually jealous?”
“No!”
“You’re jealous of my cat!”
“No I’m not!”
“You so are.” He gave Leia a quick kiss before lifting her up. A small whine was the only protest he got as he gently laid her down against the cushion. Within a few steps, Ianto was standing in front of a tight-lipped, gaze-avoiding Jack Harkness. His jaw dropped slightly. “Are you blushing?”
“No!”
More giggles burst out of Ianto before he could stop himself. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Calm down. “Jack, look at me.” After a moment’s resistance, he was able to coax Jack’s face to turn enough that he could place an apologetic kiss on his pouting lips. “I’m sorry I’ve been preoccupied with her lately. I know you’re not used to sharing, but are you really jealous of a cat?”
Flicking his gaze between Ianto and his glass, Jack sighed. “I don’t know. I just figured things were getting better. I thought I was helping….I’m sorry I haven’t been, and I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”
Ianto studied him for a moment before curling his fingers through Jack’s hair and giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “You have been helping. You help every single day. But you’re not here all of the time. And I’m not asking you to be! I understand. Everyone needs their space, and we spend enough time together, between work and going out on dates and being here and--I think I just needed someone I could baby. Owen said it’s good to have someone who relies on you. Someone to focus on, to help block...everything else...out.”
He was met with a blank stare. He started to wonder if, maybe, aliens had sent out a frequency that resulted in freezing his boyfriend’s brain activity. Maybe, in a few moments, Jack would be walking to the edge of his complex’s roof, like a third of the world’s population had a few Christmases ago. But...no. Jack blinked.
“I always rely on you. Every single day, whether we’re out in the field or hanging around the Hub, I always rely on you, Ianto Jones. I’m sorry if I haven’t made that clear, or if I’ve taken that for granted. And I always assumed that giving you some privacy was the best thing to do; not exactly what I wanted, but what you needed. But...if you need me to be here every night, I will be. I want to be.”
The words seeped into Ianto’s skin, spreading through his veins, warming him. They swirled on his tongue and tasted sincere. Earnest, even. “So...so does this mean...are you moving in? Permanently?”
After taking a slow sip from his glass, Jack placed it on the counter and wrapped his arms around Ianto’s waist. “We better start shopping for another wardrobe. I can’t fit all my clothes in that tiny drawer.”
Heart racing, a mantra spilled out, repeating itself inside Ianto’s head, banging against his skull. Be cool. Be cool. Be absolutely cool. Cool as the ice in Jack’s glass. Jack’s glass. That can be his personal glass now. I’ll have to remember that. I wonder if they have more at the store. I’ll buy him some while we’re getting that wardrobe. And I’ll move his striped mug out of the Hub now, been meaning to do that. Don’t want it getting broken. Wait. Stop. Be cool. Be absolutely cool.
He kissed Jack’s cheek again, brushing his lips across his cheekbone to his ear. “Thank you. We’re still keeping Leia, though.”
“Dammit.”