Torchwood: Fanfic: Patience is a virtue

[m_findlow]

Title: Patience is a virtue
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Mica
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,312 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for gehayi's prompt "Any, any, PATIENCE, n. A minor form of despair, disguised as a virtue" at fic_promptly
Summary: Some things are only done out of love

Ianto wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he came home, but he was pretty sure this wasn‘t it. It had been a very long day and honestly, all he’d been looking forward to doing was crawling under the duvet with Jack and sleeping until very late the next morning. He knew that wouldn’t happen though. They were babysitting Mica so any dreams of a late lie in would be completely dashed. Now it seemed any dreams of simply crawling into bed, might also be dashed.

He and Rhiannon had to attend a funeral for one of their cousins up in Anglesey. Rhi and Sian had been close as teenagers, and Ianto had many memories of the pair of them in their old house, conspiring in Rhi’s bedroom about this boy, or that, magazines and swapping clothes, so there was really no getting out of it. Johnny and David were out camping for the weekend, so Jack had kindly offered to look after Mica whilst Ianto and Rhi went to the funeral. It had been a long drive, up at 6am to get there for a 10.30 service, then there was the wake afterwards, which had been equal parts jovial catching up of old friends and family, and despair at such a young death. Another four and a half hours drive back to Cardiff, dropping off a grateful Rhiannon at her house, it was well past nine by the time he finally rolled in the door of his own house.

The sight that greeted him was even more despairing than the wake had been. The hallway was littered with pairs of shoes and coats, haphazardly dropped wherever they have been removed, not even hung on the nearby pegs which were there for just such a purpose. Not only that, both Jack's boots and Mica’s bright mauve wellingtons were caked in mud from their adventures at the park, which was now dried and flaking on the previously polished floorboards.

As he proceeded down the hall, the smell of mud and grass was replaced by the smell of sugar and spices as he entered what used to be their kitchen. It now resembled a war zone. There was one thing he’d made Jack promise him, and that was that the pair of them would not attempt any form of baking whatsoever. Ianto heaved a breath out in frustration that Jack had cheated him, spying the plate still piled high with misshapen pancakes, benchtops and floor covered in a sprinkling of flour dust and droplets of milk and batter alternating in between. The sink was likewise piled high with mixing bowls, crockery, frypans and mugs. Choc chips seemed to be dotted about the place as well. He pulled out a box of cling film from the drawer and wrapped the abandoned plate of food, putting it in the fridge, but not before snaffling a cold pancake from the top of the pile. Though they might not be cooked properly, he was starving, and it seemed better than nothing.

Idly munching on the chocolatey, doughy creation, he reluctantly made his way through to the lounge, preparing himself for the worst. It wasn’t quite as bad as he’d expected, but still, he could tell that Jack and Mica had outdone themselves. On the coffee table were more pencils and texta pens that he’d even thought they owned, and just as many colouring books and DVD cases strewn about. But that wasn’t the worst of it. It was the enormous mess that covered the remaining space. Every cushion from their sofa and chairs, plus all the actual seats had been pulled away and used to build the biggest pillow fort Ianto had ever seen. Added to that were several bedsheets and duvets, something holding it up that looked to be some of their dining room chairs, and his mop, which was now sporting a homemade flag of some description. He chanced a look inside, unsure what he might do to the occupants if he found them inside, but the fort it seemed, had been abandoned.

The lack of occupants and the general peacefulness of the house suggested that both of his miscreants must be upstairs. He quietly padded up the carpeted stairs and popped his head in the spare room, only to find it also empty, except for Mica’s overnight bag. Further down the hall was their own bedroom and that was where he found them. Mica was tucked up in their bed, with Jack next to her, a storybook laid across his lap, but both of them fast asleep. Ianto had been ready to tear Jack apart at that point, thinking how exhausting it must be to make so much mess in the space of a single day, but the pair of them were just so adorable that any annoyance he’d felt seemed to melt away.

He let out an exasperated sigh, albeit a quiet one, gently prising the book from Jack's loosened grip, placing it on the side table, before exiting the bedroom. In fairness, he should have just left all of the mess where it was and let Jack sort it out tomorrow morning. It wasn't as if Ianto hadn't had a long enough day of his own, but he knew deep down that he couldn't live with himself if he were that selfish, and Jack had done both him and his sister a massive favour, even if Jack insisted it was no imposition to spend the day having fun with his favourite adopted niece. It was just his own patient nature, because despite everything he loved Jack to pieces, and he loved his niece as well. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for them.

He padded back down the stairs and surveyed the scene. Taking off his jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves, he began with the simplest tasks, setting the lounge suite cushions back in their proper place. The bedsheets and duvet that were forming the makeshift roof for their castle were pulled down and neatly folded. He'd iron the bedsheet later and put it back in the linen cupboard. The colouring books were stacked together, and the pencils and pens slotted back in their boxes. He wandered around the room several times, searching for the disks that matched the various DVD cases, and sliding them back into the racks on the shelf. The mop was dragged back into the kitchen, where it joined the bucket, cleaning the powdered floors in the kitchen and the mud in the hallway entrance. Coats were hung and shoes lined up by the door after he'd taken them out over the threshold and knocked the dried mud from them into the garden bed below.

Returning to the kitchen, he wiped down the bench tops, put away the canisters of flour and sugar, and filled the sink with hot soapy water, washing the dishes by hand so as not to wake everyone by putting the dishwasher on. When finally the dishes were dried and packed away, he took one last sweep of the house before being satisfied that everything was back where it should be. Exhausted, he plodded back up the stairs turning down Mica's bed and carefully plucking her from their own, still fast asleep, carrying her back to bed and tucking her in. When finally he returned to his own room, all he could mange was to toe off his shoes, gently pull the covers back and crawl into bed next to Jack. He was ready to fall asleep straight away until he felt Jack cuddle him tightly and mumble against his ear.

'It's late.'

'Mmm,' Ianto hummed, not opening his eyes.

'You cleaned up everything didn't you?'

'Mmm,'

'I don't know why you put up with me,' he replied, snuggling closer still.

'You're just so pretty to look at,' Ianto muttered, before falling asleep.

Comments

[bk_forever]

Awwww! Poor exhausted Ianto. Although, I've had days like that and I don't even have kids.

Ianto really does have the patience of a saint. Jack is indeed very pretty to look at, of course, otherwise he wouldn;t get away with as much as he does.