torchwoodteaboy | el nysa inbox;

Sounds about right.

[He waits. Waits for John to come to him, waits for the brush of the other man's skin against his own, the invitation of the other man's emotions in his head before he reaches for him himself. Tangling his fingers through the other man's and tugging his hand into his lap before glancing aside at him, just to be certain that this is alright. Wondering if there's any way that he could offer for John the same warm, steady reassurance his own affection always brings himself. Feed his own affection back somehow? He'll have to try sometime. For now he hopes this quiet contact is enough. Is not too much, for that matter.]

I can't imagine how you get any sleep at all, while I'm up and about in this little place. Between the coffee maker and the noise from outside...

[And the way John sleeps in general.]

I get enough.

[ He doesn't shrink from the touch, lets Ianto pull his hand into his lap and lets out another slow breath. ]

Anyway, I'm used to sleeping in weird bursts.

[ Atlantis was always busy, he was woken up enough times for an emergency or from some weird sounds while out on reconnaissance that Ianto moving around is at least a reassuring, familiar thing to hear.

He's not denying, after all, that Ianto does wake him up. John just goes back to sleep, though. Mostly. ]

[Ianto flicks a sideways smile at the other man, playing his thumb gently across John's knuckles as he does and shaking his head slightly as he does.]

I'm sorry. I try to be as quiet as I can be, but the machine... I need my coffee in the morning, John. You've seen me without caffeine. It isn't a good look.

[He lets out the soft breath of a laugh, continuing to brush his fingers against the other man's as he continues to point out:]

If I didn't have to climb out over you I probably wouldn't wake you up as often, of course.

If I climbed over you when I got in I'd wake you up every time too.

[ Either way, someone wakes up.

John lifts Ianto's hand and rests his cheek against it, a fond, gentle action. ]

I'm already waking you up enough, I don't wanna do it more than necessary.

No, it’s best that you get the edge of the bed, you’re up more than I am even when we’re not working.

[Ianto offers the other man a fond smile in return to the gesture, shifting to settle further against John’s shoulder as he does.]

I’m just thinking that. Maybe if we were able to change the layout of our living space — you know, in this next place we find. Maybe it’s better if there isn’t a wall side. As much as I do enjoy crawling over you every morning. I like the idea of you being able to get a decent night’s rest even better.

Maybe I like you crawling you over me.

[ John lets go of Ianto's hand finally and shuffles to slip an arm around his shoulders instead, tugging him in close he can bask the warmth of his body, try to soothe himself the rest of the way down to steadiness. ]

Maybe I just like you.

[ Which he thinks Ianto knows, but with the effort he's putting in to talk John down -- with how careful he's being, John can't help but tiredly feel Ianto needs to know. That he cares, and that he appreciates this. ]

[Ianto leans into John’s arm around his shoulders as he tugs him closer, moving to settle his hand gently on John’s thigh in return.

Maybe I just like you. Ianto knows it in his heart, it’s a fact that he’s coming to understand better and better the longer he has this ability of his. John’s warmth, his affection, soft and gentle at times, deep and overwhelming at others. All for him.

He’s not in the habit of saying anything about it aloud though, and so it takes Ianto a moment to savor even so simple a comment as this. Lingering in the gesture that it is before turning to offer him a smile, soft and gentle.]

Maybe the feeling’s mutual.

[Maybe Ianto’s in love with him too. But that’s another hurdle for another day...]

[ The answer generates another flood of warmth from John, a steady wave of affection that John knows means he's in trouble here. ]

Well that's pretty convenient, I'd be in trouble otherwise.

[ He turns his face into Ianto's hair, letting himself soak up his warmth and steadiness. ]

Think I'll be okay now.

[ After the nightmare. He thinks he's steady now, that he's evened out enough to try and sleep again if Ianto just wants to try and nap. ]

[The tide of warm affection threatens to suck Ianto under himself, and he squeezes his hand on John's leg where it rests as he struggles with how to respond himself as well when all he wants to do is turn under the other man's touch and take him into his arms.]

Good.

[He wants to ask if John wants to talk about it. About the nightmare. About the memory -- he's going to assume it was a memory -- behind it. But it's John's decision to make. He can't push him into sharing, or into feeling comfortable doing so. And maybe it won't help. Maybe it's better if he doesn't, in the end. Maybe that's okay too.

Ianto turns his head into John's, sneaking a kiss to his cheek before he reaches up to smooth his hand through the other man's hair.]

You're tired.

You say the sweetest things.

[ Yes, he's tired. John drops his other hand down to pick up Ianto's from his thigh, playing their fingers together.

Then after a moment, he lets go -- swings his arm from around Ianto's shoulder and hesitantly pulls the neck of his t-shirt down. It's loose enough that he can do that, but then he winces and just tugs it over his head.

Amongst the light covering of hair on his chest are a few scars, some smaller ones that look like maybe light scratches from... something? Shrapnel? Along with one larger scar pattern, still faded and older -- an odd twisting kind of shape. ]

Do you remember what I told you about the wraith?

[ Bad guys, goth trench-coats, don't shake hands with them? ]

[Ianto watches quietly as John tugs his tshirt off over his head. His eyes trailing from John's to his chest, to whatever it is that he had been attempting to show him before he'd decided it'd be easier to do so by taking it off completely, before glancing back up at John's hazel green eyes again, nodding slightly as he does.]

A bit.

[Ianto goes back through is memory before he repeats:] Pale, they can get into your head, and they've got a -- hand thing?

[John's words exactly. He glances back at the scars on the other man's chest, some of the odder ones being in the location which John had been rubbing at earlier, before he raises an eyebrow at him questioningly.]

Yeah, this is the mark it leaves.

[ He runs his fingers over the patch of uneven skin, frowning in thought. ]

They kinda --

[ He plants a hand on his own chest in roughly the right place, curls his fingers like they're digging in to skin. His aren't quite... long enough or clawed enough, but it's the same idea. ]

Grab you and latch on, I guess.

[It isn't until John places his hand in the middle of the mark that Ianto notices the fingertips. Where what must have been talons had pierced the skin of his chest, sharp enough to have left such scars behind after the fact.

Reaching up, Ianto traces an uncertain finger against the talon marks, before glancing back at John's face in turn.]

Like a leech?

Yeah, sorta -- although they're not after your blood exactly. See, somehow they... latch on and drag the life right out of you. I don't... fully understand it, I'm not a biologist but it's definitely a chemical process of some sort. The end result, though, is you start ageing. You can feel your body pretty much slowing up and shutting down.

[ Which is... not pleasant. John hesitates, shoots Ianto a sideways look and adds flatly: ]

I was 14 when it all started. Which, by the way, makes this whole thing illegal.

[Ianto's listening intently, at least up until the point where John mentions his "age". At which point he gives the other man a flat look of his own.]

Very funny, Colonel Sheppard, but I'm pretty sure there's an age limit as far as the Air Force is concerned.

[He raises an eyebrow at the other man in question -- and yes he remembers that you've spent twenty years in the service, John -- before glancing back down at the wraith scar on his chest. Unless John looks good for however long the wraith really did age him, whatever it did must not have taken?]

You survived this one though.

Yeah.

[ He did. John frowns uneasily at the scar, at Ianto's fingers tracing it, and a nerves begin to bubble uncomfortably through him again. ]

This guy was... keeping one in a cell, keeping it starved then letting it feed on people in bursts. Stopping it just sort of killing them. Turns out the wraith didn't like it much either, helped me escape once he was... strong enough.

[ From... feeding on him. ]

Then he, uh, undid it.

[ ... Which is, apparently, possible...? ]

[Ianto glances up at the other man again before removing his hand. He can feel the nervous tension starting to coil through him and if it's because of his fingers tracing the lines of where the wraith had done this, he doesn't have to touch him there. He shifts to place his hand back on the other man's thigh, tucking himself back up against John's side as he considers the other man's words. Trying to read in between the lines as he does. That John had been captured. That this had happened to him.]

And that’s how you got that scar then. He fed on you.

[But then he undid it.]

A few times, yeah.

[ It wasn't a one time experience, it was several times while he was being held in the cell. ]

[Ianto presses his lips together tightly before nodding against the other man's shoulder. So John was held (by men?) and tortured by an alien. The fact that he was given his -- life force? life energy? life itself? -- the fact that he was given it back doesn't negate the experience itself, in the end.]

Did it hurt?

Yeah, it hurt.

[ No hesitation there, it definitely hurt. Well, the bit where he was being slowly drained of life did anyway. ]

[Yeah, Ianto had figured as much. He lets out a slow breath before squeezing the other man's leg where his hand rests and turning his head as it rests on his shoulder to offer him a smile in turn.]

Well. I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be thankful for alien intervention, but. I for one am thankful that he brought you back to yourself. I recognize my taste runs towards older men, but that would be pushing it.

What, you don't think grey hair would suit me? I think I'd look distinguished.

[ Or something. He twitches a smile, reaches down to grab Ianto's hand again and laces their fingers together once more. ]

[Ianto quirks an eyebrow at the other man slightly, squeezing his fingers in his own and wondering if it might be going too far to point out that John might actually have a few grey hairs now. Only a few! Here and there speckled around his temples, and honestly they're probably from stress as much as anything else. But yes. They do add a little je ne sais quois in Ianto's eyes.]

What I think -- is that I need you to keep up with me for a while yet. Grey hairs or no.

[ Hey! ]

I can keep up!

[ For one thing he's pretty sure he could outrun you any day of the week. ]

Maybe I'm the one going easy on you.

[ Ever thought about that? ]

[Ianto has to quirk an eyebrow at the other man at his response. He had meant it as a gentle, lightly sexual tease. Only John could make this into a competition.]

Mmm, are you really now?

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