Nov. 6th, 2008

mclachland: (TW // Jack lost in thought)
Just a quick drabble I wrote while waiting for my 2:00 class. Character death warning.


There is blood on his tongue, but it isn’t his. It’s metallic and sweet, almost like falling in love, and there is far too much of it. He coughs it out and presses against the sucking chest wound that peaks out through the linen shirt beneath him, bought while at the annual UNIT conference in London last year. He remembers it, remembers laughing against pale skin while in the changeroom at Duffer of St George, the words double cuffs, sir, those are double cuffs pushed into his mouth, sweet like blood.

“It’ll be okay.”

Ianto smiles, and it’s almost like falling in love.

“Jack. It won’t.”

January 2013

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