Fffc Bingo Card - Home sweet home

[m_findlow]

Title: Home sweet home
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: none 
Author notes: Written for Bingo Card Prompt 12 - Home at fffc
Summary: Ianto is curious about all the places Jack has laid his head over the years. 

Ianto nestled closer to Jack, letting his head tuck in under Jack's chin as they lay in the darkness, still unable to sleep. ‘Jack?’ 

‘Mmm?’ 

‘Where did you used to live? I mean, before you took over Torchwood? You must have lived somewhere, right?’ 

Jack’s chest rose deeply as Ianto's head lay on top of it. It was a telltale precursor to Jack delving into memories he'd buried long ago and didn't spend time recollecting. ‘I've lived all kinds of places.’ 

Ianto bit down on any reply to the complete non answering of his question. He just knew that if he wanted the answer he was going to have to wait for Jack to give it to him on his own terms. Jack's secrets were a bit like tiny birds playing in a fountain. They were happy to keep cavorting and have you stand there and watch them all you liked if you didn't move an inch, but if you made any sudden moves they would all scatter and fly away without a moment's hesitation. 

‘I was never really good at staying in one place,’ Jack admitted. He raised his hand to gently run it up and down Ianto's arm where it was resting across his body. ‘Couldn't ever figure why. Must have tried dozens of times. Bought nice new furniture, fresh sheets, replaced all the crockery, but nothing ever really made it feel like mine.’ 

‘You had other lovers, though, didn't you?’ It wasn't a question Ianto liked to dwell on. Nobody wanted to hear about their partner's exes and where they fell short in comparison, but Ianto couldn't help it. He needed a mental picture of what Jack's life looked like and that wouldn't be complete without understanding the people that had drifted in and out of it over countless decades. 

‘Did I bring them home? Is that what you're asking?’ He didn't wait for Ianto to confirm one way or the other. ‘I didn't like having people there. I just wanted a space that was mine. Does that make sense?’ 

Ianto nodded imperceptibly. Jack held a very strong connection with the need to be alone and have his own space. It was why Ianto rarely ever bothered him when he went to go and brood up on his beloved rooftops. There was something very definitive that said Jack didn't want company. 

‘Whereabouts in Cardiff?’ Ianto was itching to get an address, or several, so that he could go and stand outside them and stare up at them, trying to divine something further from them that would begin to unravel the mystery that was Jack. 

Jack readjusted his arm under his head and the pillow. ‘Most of them ended up as Torchwood safe houses. Figured why not donate them to the cause if I didn't need them anymore. Torchwood paid for them of course, but I didn't exactly make a profit out of it.’ 

That caught Ianto off guard. Torchwood had dozens of safe houses dotted across the city for travelers who had no place to go. They weren't what he'd call luxury accommodation. Most were old and run down, still with paint chipping from the walls and rusted front gates, vinyl flooring in garish hues of green and orange and brown, and little or no garden. They needed love and attention but no one had the time for it. It was enough just to make sure the sheets were clean, the kettle worked and the bed didn't squeak. 

‘But they're…’ Ianto tried to find a word that wouldn't offend. ‘Basic.’ 

Jack smiled and pulled him tighter against his chest. ‘And this isn't? I'm living in a storeroom underneath a secret base that resembles the junction of a sewer and a railway tunnel. And it's okay, you don't have to be polite. You can say those places are awful. If anything, they've been improved since I moved out, but I admit, they could do with a fresh coat of paint and a few extra walls knocked out. I never needed much so I didn't spend time going overboard to make them homely. Maybe that was why I could never settle anywhere. D'you know that I used to live in a bathing box for about two years back in the forties?’ 

‘A bathing box?’ 

‘Yeah. It was a great little place. Right on the beach in Penarth. Fell asleep listening to the waves, woke up to the sound of the gulls. You could step out right onto the sand and then walk straight into the ocean.’ 

Ianto snorted. ‘Without any clothes on, I'm assuming.’ 

Ianto felt Jack shrug underneath him. ‘I was the only one there. What's the point in wearing clothes? A man should be able to walk out his front door and go for a swim without worrying about the neighbours.’ 

Ianto rolled his eyes even if Jack couldn't see it. Only he'd be mad enough to live in a place most people would only use to store their fishing rods and beach umbrellas. ‘How on earth did you cook or bathe?’ He imagined there was hardly room for a sleeping cot let alone anything else. 

‘Cardiff was still eighty percent rainy days in the forties. Kept a bucket outside for water, and a camp stove inside. Things were still rationed after the war so there wasn't much cooking anyway. You learnt to get by on not much.’ 

‘Sounds nice, I suppose,’ Ianto replied. Romantic maybe just for the one night. ‘You still have it?’ 

‘Nah. They bulldozed them all in the eighties. Said they were an eyesore.’ 

‘Shame.’ 

‘That's okay. I figure home is less about a physical place than it is about the people you share it with. That's why nowhere ever felt right.’

‘So, you're homeless?’ 

‘Nope. I've got you. Your place or down here in this crummy excuse for living quarters or anywhere. So long as we've got each other and a place to lay our heads, then that's home enough for me.’