Torchwood: Fanfic: Don't rain on my parade

[m_findlow]

Title: Don't rain on my parade
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Lisa
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 843 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for badly_knitted's prompt "Any, any, waiting in the rain" at fic_promptly
Summary: It might be miserable out, but it's worth the wait

He held the umbrella aloft, for all the good it did him. It wasn't enough that the rain was coming down in heavy sheets, but the wind squalls were whipping it sideways as well. The bottom of his jeans were soaked through, as were his shoes, as the thick layer of rainwater simply sluiced across the pavement and sloshed up around their edges, like tiny islands in the middle of the vast flowing river. He checked his watch again. The flight was obviously delayed, or the queue at customs overcrowded and understaffed.

He'd tried to get closer to the terminal, but was still well back, past the long endless rows of black cabs, past the bus terminus with coaches lined up end to end, beyond the car park full of rental cars and minibuses, but not quite as far as the long term car park. Still, it was quite a hike to where he'd left the poor little grey Peugeot. Given the black clouds overhead and the grey wash of water falling from the skies, he might never find it again.

He tried to keep back from the onslaught of people, all lugging heavy cases or pushing trolleys, hustling past him to get out of the downpour, but for every one he moved out of the way for, he bumped into three more, receiving a growl of complaint for the water that spilled off the edge of the large umbrella, drowning their legs and ankles. Welcome to London, he felt like saying.

The rain continued down as he waited. It felt like an eternity, but perhaps it had only been forty minutes, if his watch was correct. He couldn't wait to see her again. Had it really only been five days? Lisa and her mates had flown down to Tenerife for a hen's night, which had stretched out to a week's stay, which probably meant they'd had at least four hen's nights in a row. He'd be amazed if any of them still had their faculties after a week of boozing and sunning on the beaches.

He wished he could have gone. Not because he wanted to hang out with half a dozen sozzled girls from Essex, but simply to spend time with his girl. They did everything together these days, and this was the first time he could recall either of them going solo. The flat had so felt so empty and lonely without her there, even though he'd spent most of the week working.

It was the lack of company when he got home that ate away at him. All the Instagram photos in the world couldn't replace the warm feeling of having her right next to him in their bed, listening to her complaining about Charlene from work, and craving their Wednesday night ritual of macaroni and cheese with a bottle of red wine. If anything, their short separation had cleared up one thing for him. He wanted to marry her. He wanted to spend the rest of their lives together complaining about Charlene, trekking through Nepal, wandering the aisles at Tescos arguing about which flavour of soup to buy, and starting a family. He knew for certain that she was the one for him. The only one.

As if he'd dreamt her out of thin air, he saw the tall, elegant frame of her body rushing towards him, cherry red suitcase towing behind her, slender brown legs in three quarter length white pants and holding her tiny denim jacket ineffectually over her head. He wanted to laugh at the way she always forgot to dress for the trip home, still attired as if ready for a trip to the local markets by the beach. He shucked his thick jacket off even as she was trotting over to meet him under the umbrella, ready to wrap it around her.

'Bloody hell, it's miserable here!' she cried.

'What? This little spring shower,' he joked back, slipping his free arm around her sodden waist and pulling her in for a kiss. It might have only been five days, but they kissed like it had been five years. She smelled of coconut oil and peach blossoms. It was the best smell in the world.

'I missed you,' she said.

'I missed you, too.'

'Far out this weather! I told you I should've just taken a cab. Customs was a nightmare. Sorry you had to wait so long out in this muck.'

'It was no trouble,' he replied.

'Ianto, look at you. You're soaked through.'

'Nothing a hot shower won't fix,' he said amiably. No amount of miserable English weather could dampen his spirits now that Lisa was back.

'I assume the car is miles away?' she asked.

'Yep. Let's just hope it hasn't started floating off towards the Thames.'

He passed her the umbrella whilst he took charge of her luggage, warping his other arm around her waist and pulling her close, smiling to himself. He was so happy to have her back he didn't think he'd ever let go of her again.