Torchwood: Fanfic: Breakfast in bed

[m_findlow]

Title: Breakfast in bed
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 774 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for m_findlow's prompt "Any, any, cold morning, hot porridge" at fic_promptly
Summary: Cold mornings are better spent together

My nose is cold. That's the first thing I notice when I wake up. It's going to be one of those freezing cold days, starting off with a morning in the single digits hovering near the zero mark. If I look at the window I'll probably find that there are little icicles forming at the edges. It's the kind of morning for staying indoors, and if possible, in bed.

There's no such luck, of course. The rift doesn't care what the weather is doing, the chances of it spitting out a deadly alien are just as good on a cold wintery day as they are on a bright sunny morning.

I lie there for a few minutes longer before forcing myself out from under the duvet. That only makes it worse, knowing your were nice and snug before having to get up. That and there's a certain someone else still curled up underneath it who I'd much rather stay snuggled with. He's still asleep. Another late one last night for us. They're becoming far too frequent these days.

Reluctantly I slide out from under the duvet, trying to keep as much of the warm air trapped inside for the remaining occupant. No sense in both of us being awake and cold.

Fortunately the pipes haven't frozen overnight. Not quite anyway, though there's a bit of air trapped in them that clunks loudly as I turn the water on in the shower. We should probably have them fixed. It's only a matter of time before they do freeze, winter only just in its early days yet. Hot showers are something of a necessity in this line of work, not just for waking up on cold mornings, but usually for dispelling the grime and muck that accrues almost on a daily basis. If the pipes are clogged, it's probably on account of an accumulation of alien slime.

The bathroom tiles are like ice as I pad back to the bedroom, scrubbed pink from the hot water, and glad for the carpet underfoot in our bedroom. Ianto says it's harder to keep clean, but considering the climate, it's much warmer than floorboards. I dress quietly and efficiently, leaving for the kitchen.

It's still early. Early enough for a proper cooked breakfast, but there doesn't seem much point in going to all the trouble just for one person, but I'm looking for something to warm me up now that the shower's effects are starting to wear off my skin.

I find a box of oats in the cupboard and settle on a nice hot bowl of porridge. The kitchen is so peaceful as I stand there, letting the milk warm on the stovetop before adding the oats. It's that quiet moment just after dawn when the birds have stopped their chirping, but before the rest of the city has started waking into the new day.

I sit down on the stool at the end of the kitchen counter, but decide that it feels too quiet and isolated. I pick up the bowl and carry it with me back to the bedroom. It's not quite breakfast together but it's close. I perch carefully on the edge of the bed, next to Ianto's blanket covered legs and take the first delicious mouthful. The whole room seems to be infused with the scent of the cinnamon and honey, but even that doesn't seem to be enough to wake him. Bowl in my lap, I free a hand to rest on his leg, stroking it gently. Just watching him sleep is somehow relaxing as his upper body undulates up and down with each breath, soft little snores breaking the silence. He's so beautiful. I want to just curl up under the covers again and hold him there, and forget all about work.

The porridge has disappeared whilst I've been daydreaming, careful not to scrape the bowl too loudly before taking it back to the kitchen, and rinsing it out.

Five minutes later, teeth brushed and coat donned, I'm back in the bedroom.

The cold morning, the clunking water pipes, the aroma of food, none of it has manged to permeate his consciousness and bring him to wakefulness. He's tired, exhausted. The least I can let him do is let him catch up on some much needed sleep.

I place the most gentle of kisses on his slumbering brow, wishing him sweet dreams and looking forward to seeing him again in a few hours. The thought fills me with a warmth that combats even the most chilly air outside, its glow casting a barrier that surrounds me all the way to the hub.

Comments

[bk_forever]

Awww! Sweetly domestic, but now I feel cold and I'm dreading winter. It's not far off now!