Title: Before the Close of Day
Warning: Spoilers for “Adam”
Word Count: 1100
Summary: “Do you ever think you’ve misplaced your faith in me? That I’m not what you thought I was?”
Notes: More drabbles games. For , who wanted an aftermath for “Adam” with the prompts blood, dark alleyways, and safety.
The plan was — and sometimes Jack actually did follow his plans — just to get into bed with Ianto and hold him while he slept. It was a pleasant way to end a night, particularly difficult and exhausting ones like this had been: lying in Ianto’s sweet-smelling sheets, holding his warm body, watching him sleep until he woke up and they could have breakfast and go into work.
Jack let himself in with his key, smiling as he did so. It gave him a quiet little thrill: he had a key to Ianto’s flat, put on his keyfob by Ianto himself. He locked the door behind him and made his way through the dark flat to the bedroom, where he could see Ianto’s long, slim body under the duvet, his dark hair a contrast to the white pillowcase.
Jack undressed in the dark and crawled under the duvet with him, sliding his arms around Ianto’s waist. He kissed the back of Ianto’s neck and closed his eyes, settling in to doze as Ianto slept.
Ianto shifted in his arms, and then shifted again and quietly moaned. Jack lifted his head, frowning, and then propped himself up as Ianto’s head thrashed and his breath sped up, as if he were in a panic. “Ianto,” Jack whispered, “Ianto, wake up.”
“Jesus!” Ianto gasped and scrambled away from him, his eyes enormous. “Oh, God,” he said when he saw Jack. “It’s just you.”
“Of course it’s me. What’s wrong? C’mere,” he added, holding out his hands to Ianto, and Ianto sighed and crawled into his arms, tucking his head under Jack’s chin. “You just had a bad dream. Right?”
“Yeah,” Ianto whispered.
“A pretty vivid one, from the look of it.”
Jack kissed his hair and held him a little closer. “Do you want to tell me about it? It helps sometimes.”
Ianto exhaled. His arms tightened around Jack a moment. “No. I just want to go back to sleep.”
“Do you want me to go?” Jack asked quietly, but Ianto was shaking his head before the question was even finished.
“No. Stay. Please stay.”
“Okay,” Jack said and kissed him gently before pulling the duvet back up over them and settling Ianto against him. His heart was still beating fast, and Jack smoothed a hand over his face and kissed him a few more times. “Here,” he said, “lay back your head and close your eyes.”
“What are you planning?” Ianto said, but obeyed him.
“Something we used to do a lot more than we do now.” He began to run his hand slowly over Ianto’s face, forehead to chin, fingers on his cheeks, cupping his palm over Ianto’s nose.
“Different,” Ianto whispered.
“I know. Just relax. Do we need to get you a dream catcher?” Ianto made a derisive sound and Jack smiled. “You’ve had a lot of nightmares lately.”
“I know. Ever since we lost those two days.”
“Do you think something happened that you’re dreaming about?” Ianto sighed again and Jack stopped stroking him to kiss him. “What do you think it is?”
“I thought I was supposed to be relaxing.”
“Oh,” Jack said and resumed stroking Ianto’s face. “Sorry. Yes. Remiss of me.” He could feel Ianto smile and he bent to kiss Ianto’s forehead.
He thought Ianto was asleep until Ianto took hold of his wrist and said, “Do you ever think you’ve misplaced your faith in me? That I’m not what you thought I was?”
“You’re not what I thought you were,” Jack said and kissed his hair. “You’re more.”
Ianto chuckled dryly. “Honestly, Jack.”
“Honestly, Ianto.” He combed his fingers through Ianto’s hair and traced them down his neck. “Tell me what you dreamed.”
Ianto took a breath. “I’m in a dark alley,” he said slowly. “It’s raining. There’s a girl there, and she’s crying. She’s afraid — she’s afraid of me.” He stopped and Jack wrapped his hand around Ianto’s. “She knows I’m going to kill her. And I’m going to kill her, Jack, I’m going to kill her, I want to kill her. I want to feel the life go out of her. I want her blood on my hands.” Ianto opened his eyes and looked at him. “Why am I dreaming about this, Jack? What’s wrong with me?”
“Hey,” Jack said and pulled him closer to wrap himself around Ianto and hold him tight. “Nothing is wrong with you. You’re just having bad dreams.”
“But they’re so specific–”
Jack kissed him. “Stop, Ianto,” he whispered. “Don’t. They’re only dreams.”
“But they’re so vivid, Jack. They’re so real. I can smell the rain, I can feel her skin.”
“They’re only dreams,” Jack repeated and pulled Ianto closer, his arm across Ianto’s shoulders, and tucked Ianto’s head under his chin. “You’re not a killer. Whatever we did in those two days, it wasn’t killing girls in alleyways.” Ianto sighed and pressed his body closer to Jack’s, and Jack kissed his forehead. “Do you feel better?” he whispered.
“I’m getting there.”
“Hey,” Jack said and tilted Ianto’s face up, looking into Ianto’s trusting eyes. “Do you believe me?”
“Yes,” Ianto said.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” His hand slid across Jack’s ribs.
“Then believe me. You are not a killer. You’re having bad dreams, but they’ll end and you’ll go back to dreaming what you usually dream about: your handsome, sexy boyfriend.”
“Oh, yes,” Ianto said, “I dream of you every night.” He propped himself up and kissed Jack’s mouth. “Every . . . single . . . night.” He kissed Jack between each word and then lay down, tucking himself against Jack’s body.
Jack held him, one hand on the back of his neck and the other flat on his back. “And not a single nightmare in the lot, right?”
“Right,” Ianto murmured. He started to speak again, but merely kissed Jack’s chest and exhaled, relaxing.
Jack began stroking him again, slowly, just his fingertips up and down Ianto’s spine. “You’re safe here,” he whispered. “You’re warm and you’re happy and you’re loved. And you’re going to sleep and you’re going to have beautiful dreams.” Ianto quietly chuckled, but didn’t tease back or argue so Jack figured it must be working. He said softly, “And you’re not going to be angry with me for reading your diary,” and Ianto laughed outright.