Author's Note: Schmoop_bingo prompt: Snowed In. Set in the Schmoop 'verse when Mirabelle is about 8-9 months old.
Jack leaned his cheek against the window and watched big, fluffy flakes of snow drifting past, like they didn't have a care in the world. They were slow and heavy-looking, falling from a leaden sky to lie, soft and deep, in a deep blanket across the world, smoothing out its angles into planes and curves, with slight mounds showing the line of walls, dips for roads and thickly-covered trees dumping their loads in piles in gusts of wind.
For the second year in a row, snow had come to Wales and silenced it.
It had started snowing early in the evening the day before, when the sky still had enough light in it to appear bruised and sullen, and had still been falling when Ianto fell asleep, sprawled out across the bed with Jack watching over him.
Soft shuffling behind him announced Ianto's arrival, and Jack swung himself off the window seat to approach him before he'd even properly registered it. "You should be in bed," he chided worriedly, resting his hands on Ianto's shoulders and rubbing them gently. "I didn't wake you, did I?"
"No, I just needed more painkillers, and you weren't there." Ianto leaned into him and Jack slipped his arms around him properly. "Are they in the kitchen still?"
"They are," Jack confirmed, hugging Ianto carefully, splaying one hand just to the left of the bandage on Ianto's side. "You probably shouldn't have more, though. It's not long since your last."
Ianto frowned and shrugged Jack off. "I'm not going to overdose on them tonight, and it's not like I'm going to have to worry about the long-term consequences, is it?" He stopped, a pace away from Jack, and turned back to him, running a hand through his own hair. "I'm sorry, Jack."
"No, it's okay," he sighed and closed the distance to Ianto, resting his hands on his arms and running them from wrist to shoulder. "I'm being over-protective again, aren't I?"
"You're not. I'm just being sore and waspish." Ianto stepped even close so that he could rest his forehead against Jack's temple. "Come back to bed?"
"Okay." Jack hugged him once and pulled back. "I'll get you those painkillers and come up."
Jack collected the jar of painkillers from the kitchen work surface, walking gingerly over the cold stone floor in bare feet, and returned up the creaking wooden stairs to his and Ianto's room. This was supposed to be a weekend getaway for Ianto to recover in peace and quiet from his latest injury, but it would probably last for some time, judging by the depth of the snow and the rate it was still falling. Jack just hoped that they'd be home in time for Chirstmas. Mirabelle stirred slightly when he looked in on her, but she didn't wake up.
Ianto was sitting on the edge of the bed and poking at his side gingerly when Jack walked in. He looked up sheepishly and rolled his shoulders. "I think it's getting better," he explained.
"It should be. That gel is good stuff." Jack opened the jar and tipped a pill out onto his palm, then held it up. "One, okay?"
"Fine." Ianto opened his mouth obediently and Jack popped the pill onto his tongue, then passed him the glass of water off the bedside table. "And I might be able to sleep soon, now. That would be nice."
Jack ran his hands through Ianto's hair and used it to tip his head back so that he could kiss him. "Back into bed," he instructed against Ianto's lips. "Don't want you catching a cold as well."
"You know that doesn't actually work," Ianto pointed out, laughing, but he slid under the covers obediently and sprawled out on his front because it hurt less. Jack tucked the duvet up over his shoulders against the cold and burrowed in on his other side, facing towards Ianto. One of his hands, rubbing a small circle, rested on Ianto's back, and he smiled as Ianto shuffled just an inch closer to him and drifted off to sleep.