REC: WAITING by DVANULYA

[itoshii-chan.livejournal.com]

Title: Waiting
Author: dvanulya
Genre: Angst, General, Romance, PWP, Smut~ty, Hurt/Comfort?
Rating: R
Other/Implied Pairings: N/A
Summary: Jack is late getting back to the Hub.
Status: COMPLETE
Length: One-shot
Word Count: ~ 1,867
Warnings: Post-Torchwood 1x06 "Countrycide," but pre-TW 1x08 "They Keep Killing Suzie," language, grabbing of body parts (*LOL*)
Comment or Excerpt from fic: Well, takes place quite early in S1 of the series, so can't really say "established relationship," I guess, but Jack is very much "fond" of his Ianto and the lust and desire for each other is not lacking. Anyway, Ianto is waiting for Jack to be back form wherever the hell he went to only for him to come back drunk and reeking of sex. I'm in a romantic mood and taking dvanulya's explanation into consideration, so what follows is... Ianto jumps to conclusion, gets pissed, calls Jack a "fucking bastard" a couple of times, Jack tries to explain patiently that the smell of sex isn't the "SMELL OF SEX" since it's just his pheromones and being drunk and wanting Ianto is making them go all over the place, Ianto melts, they decide to get down to business and make arrangements! ^_____________^

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EXCERPT:

Ianto wondered what would happen if he just left... Because Jack seemed to have no problem leaving them... this was ridiculous. He had been here, being the homebody, being domestic, for hours, waiting for Jack to come back from wherever he was tonight. Jack just assumed that Ianto would be here... even if he was gone days.

And Ianto would. But that didn’t mean he would be happy when Jack finally deigned to show up, which he did at 4:43 in the morning, catching Ianto de-scaling the coffee machine and scowling.

“Ianto. Still here? Or back for more?” Jack was leering... Luckily, Jack had 51st century reflexes to go along with the pheromones. With his left hand he neatly caught the fist four inches before it connected with his left eye; with the right he caught Ianto’s jaw and stroked lightly over the smooth skin there. Ianto had shaved, he mused. His Ianto, waiting there, shaving for him. For hours. Waiting just for him.

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