November Challenge Fic (TW)

It was over a week before Ianto realized something was seriously wrong with Jack. In his defence, they were running all over Cardiff trying to capture Weevils and help clean up the city. Ianto barely had time to make coffee much less notice that Jack didn’t seem to know what coffee was anymore.

And that was what finally did it – a slow moment where Ianto leaned against Jack’s desk and sipped his own coffee, watching Jack stare at the mug quizzically. The tentative sip made Ianto inhale sharply. The wrinkled nose made him exhale slowly.

Jack gave him a smile, all teeth and no feeling behind it, and set the mug on the desk. His eyes flickered to Ianto’s mouth and the frown there.

“Something wrong?”

Ianto shrugged and put his mug down. “Do they have coffee in the 51st century?”

Jack startled at that and he quickly picked the mug up again, taking a large swallow and just barely holding back a grimace. “No. By then it’s more of a tea-like substance.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Ianto said quietly as he reached for Jack’s mug, taking it out of his hand. “I’ll make this more palatable.”

“Sweeter maybe?” Jack murmured, shuffling papers on his desk.

Ianto nodded, taking Jack’s coffee with him and heading back to the machine. Gwen looked over at him, her hair twisted behind her head with a pen and a phone against her ear.

“Alright?”

Ianto wanted to say no, wanted to ask what she had noticed Jack struggling over the last week, but he couldn’t. Jack obviously hadn’t wanted them to know that he had forgotten some stuff.

“Already finished his,” Ianto said, making sure she couldn’t see the coffee in the mug. “Need a refill?”

“Still got plenty, love.” Gwen flashed him a weary smile before straightening up and starting to talk to whomever had finally picked up on the other end.

Ianto set the mug on the table, looking at the black coffee like it was a foreign substance. In all the time he’d been working for Jack, he’d never had to remake a cup of coffee for him. ‘Sweeter’ wasn’t much to go on, but tea-like was even more vague. Lots of drinks were tea-like, including the coffee Gwen made.

With a sigh, Ianto dumped the mug and started again, adding half the amount of beans and tamping them lightly. He spooned a little sugar into the mug, thinking maybe he should try the way he served coffee to Tosh.

The spoon clattered against the tabletop loudly and with shaking hands, Ianto picked it up, hoping Gwen was still engrossed in her phone call and Jack was too busy trying to figure out what he did wrong to make Ianto walk away. Tears burned in his eyes as he set about making coffee the way Tosh had liked it, hoping Jack would enjoy it as well.

“Ianto?”

Ianto wiped his hand over his eyes before turning to Jack with a slight smile. “Yes, sir?”

Jack brought his hands to Ianto’s face, thumbs carefully brushing away tears. He leaned in, pressing his lips to Ianto’s gently. Ianto let out a muffled sob against his mouth before wrapping his arms around Jack and holding him tightly.

“We call it kafra,” Jack whispered against his lips. “It’s a leaf with a rich, fragrant scent that’s ground and then steeped like tea. But it has the fullness of your coffee. The feel of your coffee is so similar to kafra and I remember it, but I don’t remember if I like coffee even though I know I love kafra.”

“Do you remember me? Gwen?” Ianto pulled away, his mouth pressed against Jack’s neck. “Owen and Tosh?”

Jack pressed his lips to the top of Ianto’s head. “Yes.”

“How well?”

“Well enough that knowing they’re dead is something we all should be upset over," Jack said to him softly. "I don't remember much about those before you. I remember home though. I remember Boeshane.”

Gwen stood in the doorway, watching the two of them tentatively. “Boeshane?”

“Home,” Jack murmured, holding out an arm to her. Gwen crowded in close, the three of them clinging to each other as they waited for the next shoe to fall.

November Challenge Fic (TW)

It was over a week before Ianto realized something was seriously wrong with Jack. In his defence, they were running all over Cardiff trying to capture Weevils and help clean up the city. Ianto barely had time to make coffee much less notice that Jack didn’t seem to know what coffee was anymore.

And that was what finally did it – a slow moment where Ianto leaned against Jack’s desk and sipped his own coffee, watching Jack stare at the mug quizzically. The tentative sip made Ianto inhale sharply. The wrinkled nose made him exhale slowly.

Jack gave him a smile, all teeth and no feeling behind it, and set the mug on the desk. His eyes flickered to Ianto’s mouth and the frown there.

“Something wrong?”

Ianto shrugged and put his mug down. “Do they have coffee in the 51st century?”

Jack startled at that and he quickly picked the mug up again, taking a large swallow and just barely holding back a grimace. “No. By then it’s more of a tea-like substance.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Ianto said quietly as he reached for Jack’s mug, taking it out of his hand. “I’ll make this more palatable.”

“Sweeter maybe?” Jack murmured, shuffling papers on his desk.

Ianto nodded, taking Jack’s coffee with him and heading back to the machine. Gwen looked over at him, her hair twisted behind her head with a pen and a phone against her ear.

“Alright?”

Ianto wanted to say no, wanted to ask what she had noticed Jack struggling over the last week, but he couldn’t. Jack obviously hadn’t wanted them to know that he had forgotten some stuff.

“Already finished his,” Ianto said, making sure she couldn’t see the coffee in the mug. “Need a refill?”

“Still got plenty, love.” Gwen flashed him a weary smile before straightening up and starting to talk to whomever had finally picked up on the other end.

Ianto set the mug on the table, looking at the black coffee like it was a foreign substance. In all the time he’d been working for Jack, he’d never had to remake a cup of coffee for him. ‘Sweeter’ wasn’t much to go on, but tea-like was even more vague. Lots of drinks were tea-like, including the coffee Gwen made.

With a sigh, Ianto dumped the mug and started again, adding half the amount of beans and tamping them lightly. He spooned a little sugar into the mug, thinking maybe he should try the way he served coffee to Tosh.

The spoon clattered against the tabletop loudly and with shaking hands, Ianto picked it up, hoping Gwen was still engrossed in her phone call and Jack was too busy trying to figure out what he did wrong to make Ianto walk away. Tears burned in his eyes as he set about making coffee the way Tosh had liked it, hoping Jack would enjoy it as well.

“Ianto?”

Ianto wiped his hand over his eyes before turning to Jack with a slight smile. “Yes, sir?”

Jack brought his hands to Ianto’s face, thumbs carefully brushing away tears. He leaned in, pressing his lips to Ianto’s gently. Ianto let out a muffled sob against his mouth before wrapping his arms around Jack and holding him tightly.

“We call it kafra,” Jack whispered against his lips. “It’s a leaf with a rich, fragrant scent that’s ground and then steeped like tea. But it has the fullness of your coffee. The feel of your coffee is so similar to kafra and I remember it, but I don’t remember if I like coffee even though I know I love kafra.”

“Do you remember me? Gwen?” Ianto pulled away, his mouth pressed against Jack’s neck. “Owen and Tosh?”

Jack pressed his lips to the top of Ianto’s head. “Yes.”

“How well?”

“Well enough that knowing they’re dead is something we all should be upset over," Jack said to him softly. "I don't remember much about those before you. I remember home though. I remember Boeshane.”

Gwen stood in the doorway, watching the two of them tentatively. “Boeshane?”

“Home,” Jack murmured, holding out an arm to her. Gwen crowded in close, the three of them clinging to each other as they waited for the next shoe to fall.

November Challenge Fic (DW)

Prompt: "Being able to remain on that dizzying crest: that is integrity, and the rest is subterfuge." -Albert Camus



Susan trails her hand over the console of The TARDIS, the soft pulse of content making her smile softly. Barbara and Ian are asleep and Grandfather is in the library reading some stuffy old book.

She wants to go somewhere, wants to get out of the Vortex and land. Adventure was why she convinced her grandfather to show her how to fly a TARDIS, leading them down a path that made them enemies of Gallifrey. It doesn't matter to her anyway, not anymore. And Grandmother died a few years back, leaving Grandfather alone. Her parents had charged him with her safety, but they hadn't realized how alone Grandfather truly was and how easily Susan could get her way with him.

Susan knows that sometimes she uses that to her advantage too often, but she hasn't seen Grandfather this happy in a long time. Barbara and Ian could be wet blankets, but they usually fell into line quick enough.

"Child," Grandfather says from the doorway, his glasses perch on the tip of his nose as he looks at her over the rims. "Let her rest. She needs to spend time in the Vortex even if you don't want to."

"I want to go somewhere new," Susan says, leaning against the rail. "I want see everything."

"You already can," Grandfather says as he makes his way over to her, pressing gentle fingers against the side of her head.

She forgets that she can see all of Time and Space in her mind if she concentrates hard enough. She didn't go to the Academy and Grandfather isn't the best teacher. But his cool, dry fingers against the side of her head make Time and Space spread out in front of and behind her.

Susan's eyes shut softly. "I want to fix so much."

"We cannot fix what is meant to be."

"But what if we were *meant* to fix it." Her eyes open again and she looks into the watery blue eyes that only look back with affection. "How can we leave it?"

"If we are meant to fix it, we will fix it." Grandfather lets his fingers drop. "We cannot meddle in the matters of lesser races."

Susan snorts at that. "We're Time Lords! That's what we're around for. We protect Time."

"Time Lords do, yes. Child," Grandfather's voice is heavy. "We are not like them. All we can do is attempt to not create our own paradoxes while we try to stay one step ahead of them."

Susan is quiet for a long moment before she leans against her grandfather. His arms go around her, keeping her close. "I want to be better than that."

Grandfather kisses the top of her head softly. "So do I."

November Challenge Fic (DW)

Prompt: "Being able to remain on that dizzying crest: that is integrity, and the rest is subterfuge." -Albert Camus



Susan trails her hand over the console of The TARDIS, the soft pulse of content making her smile softly. Barbara and Ian are asleep and Grandfather is in the library reading some stuffy old book.

She wants to go somewhere, wants to get out of the Vortex and land. Adventure was why she convinced her grandfather to show her how to fly a TARDIS, leading them down a path that made them enemies of Gallifrey. It doesn't matter to her anyway, not anymore. And Grandmother died a few years back, leaving Grandfather alone. Her parents had charged him with her safety, but they hadn't realized how alone Grandfather truly was and how easily Susan could get her way with him.

Susan knows that sometimes she uses that to her advantage too often, but she hasn't seen Grandfather this happy in a long time. Barbara and Ian could be wet blankets, but they usually fell into line quick enough.

"Child," Grandfather says from the doorway, his glasses perch on the tip of his nose as he looks at her over the rims. "Let her rest. She needs to spend time in the Vortex even if you don't want to."

"I want to go somewhere new," Susan says, leaning against the rail. "I want see everything."

"You already can," Grandfather says as he makes his way over to her, pressing gentle fingers against the side of her head.

She forgets that she can see all of Time and Space in her mind if she concentrates hard enough. She didn't go to the Academy and Grandfather isn't the best teacher. But his cool, dry fingers against the side of her head make Time and Space spread out in front of and behind her.

Susan's eyes shut softly. "I want to fix so much."

"We cannot fix what is meant to be."

"But what if we were *meant* to fix it." Her eyes open again and she looks into the watery blue eyes that only look back with affection. "How can we leave it?"

"If we are meant to fix it, we will fix it." Grandfather lets his fingers drop. "We cannot meddle in the matters of lesser races."

Susan snorts at that. "We're Time Lords! That's what we're around for. We protect Time."

"Time Lords do, yes. Child," Grandfather's voice is heavy. "We are not like them. All we can do is attempt to not create our own paradoxes while we try to stay one step ahead of them."

Susan is quiet for a long moment before she leans against her grandfather. His arms go around her, keeping her close. "I want to be better than that."

Grandfather kisses the top of her head softly. "So do I."