Notes: This is the final bunch of snapshots, guys. There will be no more at all. I will work my way through the rest of the requests, and then that will be it. This is not, however, a move to leaving the fandom whatsoever! Thank you all for your participation in this project, and I hope you've all enjoyed it as much as I have.
One Hundred and Nine
It had been perhaps the only time that Jack truly appreciated Ianto's age. He wore sharp suits and a sharp face so much that it was easy to add ten years to his age, easier still to add fifty years to his mentality. But even the request to come and pick him up sounded younger, and the complete abandon on his face outside that pub in the night, the red glow from the cold lighting up his face, leaning on his mate and singing (probably obscene) drinking songs in Welsh with that group of other young men in matching rugby shirts...Jack remembered just how young Ianto should have been.
One Hundred and Ten
"It's cold," Jack said, for perhaps the five-hundredth time.
"I know!" Ianto snapped, for the five-hundred-and-first time. "I get it, Jack, it's cold. Now stop complaining about it."
"But," Jack began, thought about it, then said, "it's cold."
"My whole face is cold," Jack continued. "My forehead is cold. My eyes are cold - that can't be good. My nose is going to fall off with frostbite. My lips are cold..."
Ianto's hands clamped themselves to either side of his cold face, and a thorough, rough, deep kiss was delivered to the aforementioned lips. Jack grinned into the kiss, managing to get his arms around Ianto's back before the Welshman let go.
"There," Ianto snapped. "Now stop complaining that you're cold!"
"It's warmer like this," Jack admitted.
Ianto snorted, ripped Jack's scarf aside, and buried his own cold face against the burning warmth of Jack's neck, making the older man yelp in shock, surprise, and no small amount of displeasure.
"Yan, if you were cold," Jack said teasingly, hugging him close and wondering when they would be yelled at by Owen for 'sleeping on the job in all but bloody action', "then you should have said so."
One Hundred and Eleven
"Come on a date with me."
They were the first words out of Jack's mouth, and he was in the flat and shutting the door before Ianto knew quite what was going on. In fact, before he could formulate a response at all, Jack had hauled him into the middle of the cluttered living room and was rather energetically spinning him in a dance.
"What happened?" Ianto asked suspiciously.
"Nothing," Jack said. "Felt like taking you out on a date. Haven't gotten to see much of you lately, it seems."
He kissed the captive hand and drew it up to his chest, forcing Ianto closer.
"You see me at work every day," Ianto said.
"You know what I mean," Jack said. "Speaking of work, how's the shoulder?"
"Fine," Ianto said. "And I do know what you mean. But..."
"But?" Jack questioned. "Come on. Just throw on some jeans and a t-shirt and we'll go out."
"And do what?"
"Don't know," Jack said. "But we'll do something. Just you and me."
"We could," Ianto suggested, "just dance in my living room."
"We could," Jack agreed. "Tell you what. We'll dance in your living room, get up to more nefarious things, and we'll go out this evening. Yes?"
Ianto laughed and let Jack pull him closer, into a slower, more peaceful dance. "Yes, all right."
One Hundred and Twelve
Ianto jerked awake with a gasp that turned into a harsh coughing fit, and Jack was roused, bleary-eyed and concerned, from his own doze. He smoothed back Ianto's sweat-soaked hair, and murmured nothings until the fit passed, then hugged him close and stroked long fingers over his back and shoulders.
"Bad dream?" he murmured.
"Mm," Ianto croaked, snagging a tissue from the nightstand and pressing it to his nose.
"How bad?" Jack probed, blue eyes worried. God knew they both had enough fodder for nightmares.
"Normal one," Ianto groused. "Me Mam with that bloody spatula from when I was a kid. And then she morphed into my third year English teacher and started throwing copies of Romeo and Juliet at me until I learned the balcony scene by heart."
Jack snickered. He could vaguely remember nightmares in a similar vein himself, a long time ago.
"Did you learn it?" he asked, and Ianto snorted, choked, and snorted again.
"Not bloody likely," he growled. "I'd rather kiss Owen."
Ianto was sadistic, Jack decided, leaving him with that mental image to sleep on.
One Hundred and Thirteen
"That was beyond avante-guarde."
Jack snickered and watched Ianto's glazed eyes rove the ceiling. If Jack didn't know much, much better, he would suggest that Ianto was on some kind of illegal narcotic.
"Way beyond," Ianto added.
"You enjoy my innovative ideas," Jack said firmly, sliding an arm around Ianto's sweat-slick chest and kissing the hair just above his ear. Hard. Enough to feel the heartbeat still stuttering under the warm, delicate skin.
"Still," Ianto said, "I...hope you don't expect me to be at work tomorrow."
"Long recovery time?" Jack asked.
"Four times in one hour," Ianto said, "is ridiculous. You need a girlfriend."
"Nah," Jack said. "You do just fine."
One Hundred and Fourteen
Ianto's cat and Jack had a definite feud going on. They were warring over Ianto's attention - whenever Jack came over, the cat was there, purring and rubbing around Ianto's legs and butting his hands with its head. It would curl up in his lap, and occupy his hands when they could be doing other things. And it would shed all over Jack's things, and get its tail in his coffee, and scratch him or hiss at him whenever he tried to pet it and make friends.
And Jack swore Ianto was on the cat's side.
One Hundred and Fifteen
Jack hadn't got there fast enough to stop Tamara from meeting Ianto. And from the look on her face - a face he'd once found incredibly attractive - she knew immediately who and what Ianto was. And Jack could have killed her when she said it - "He doesn't do love. You don't really think he love you, do you?" - but he had only taken half a dozen steps when Ianto spoke, a cool reply, and Jack's intentions changed from murdering her to loving him, and he smiled in spite of his anxiety.
"Yes, I really do."