Title: Flood of Sunshine
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 4
Prompt: 32, Hopeful
Author's Note: Continuation of Whisper To A Scream.
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own Ianto Jones or the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

***

The Doctor stirred and opened his eyes, raising a hand to rub the sleep from them. He'd slept for an unusually long time, but he shouldn't be surprised at that; even though he didn't need much sleep, his body still had to rest at times.

He was actually getting more sleep these days than he normally did, he thought, a slow smile spreading over his features. There was something about being in bed with Ianto that made him want to surrender himself to the world of slumber.

Well, not always -- he usually associated the words "Ianto" and "bed" with making love, rather than with sleeping. But after what he'd so recently been through, his body had needed to recuperate, and he was glad to have the chance of doing that wrapped in his lover's arms.

Sighing softly, he turned over onto his side and regarded the young man next to him. What would he do without Ianto? He didn't even want to think about the possibility -- the eventuality -- of being without the man the loved.

How long would it take Ianto to wake up? He usually came awake at the same time that the Doctor did; it was as though his internal workings were synchronized with those of the Time Lord, and he knew just when his lover would be stirring.

The Doctor slipped one hand under his pillow, lying there and watching the young man sleep. He didn't often have the chance to do this, and he wanted to study Ianto when he wasn't awake and aware of the scrutiny.

Could any other human possibly be so beautiful? He smiled to himself, wanting to reach out and touch the young man's face, but holding himself back. There was plenty of time to touch, to feel, when Ianto awakened.

Maybe other people wouldn't see this man in the same way that he did; they wouldn't see the inner beauty behind the attractive face, the strength of character that made Ianto more than beautiful to him. Maybe they would only see the outer shell.

He had to admit that the outside was gorgeous; it was one of the things that had attracted him to Ianto from the first. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off that face, as though his gaze had been drawn back time and time again without him realizing it.

But it was the inside that drew him even closer. Once he'd come to know Ianto a little, once he'd seen the kind of person that he was, the pretty packagaing had ceased to matter. It was the young man's heart and soul that had drawn him near -- and had kept him there.

How many times had he looked at this face and told himself how lucky he was to be with a man who was so beautiful not only on the outside, but on the inside as well? Too many to count, but he could still do it again.

His eyes traveled over the pale skin, the high cheekbones, the soft, full lips. The Doctor closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself imagine the feel of those lips on his -- and on other areas of his body as well. The touch of those lips never failed to arouse him.

Focusing his gaze on his lover's face again, he took in the sweep of long, dark lashes, the arched brows, the soft dark hair falling over Ianto's brow. He almost ached to reach out and touch, to see those beautiful blue-grey eyes open and gaze into his own.

But no, he was going to let his love sleep. Ianto had been through a lot himself in the last day or so; he'd been the one to rescue the Doctor, after all. He was only glad that the young man had been there, and that they'd made it out of that place safely.

Until he'd met Ianto, he'd lost hope of ever having that kind of loyalty in his life again. Oh, all of his companions had been loyal to him -- and they would have all tried to get him out of the situation he'd been in. But not in the way Ianto had.

Would any of his other companions, especially the ones he'd had in this body, have used a gun in the way Ianto did? Though he didn't usually approve of that sort of violence, in that instance, it had been more or less unavoidable.

He was sure that none of his other companions would have been able to bring themselves to do anything like that. They would have tried to free him in some other way -- and probably get the both of them killed in the process.

With anyone else, he doubted that he would have been able to be so hopeful that they would rescue him; he'd have tried to cling to the hope that they would, but he'd never had the faith in anyone else that he had in his lover. And that faith hadn't been misplaced.

Holding onto that faith in Ianto was what had gotten him through that horrible time when he'd been the Master's captive, intentionally giving himself to that monster because he'd mistakenly thought he had nothing else to live for. Ianto had proved him wrong.

The Doctor had never been so glad to be proved wrong in his life. When he'd been reuinted with Ianto, when he'd seen the love shining out at him from those beautiful eyes, he'd known in that moment that putting his faith and trust there would always be the right thing to do.

All right, so maybe it was wrong of him to place all of his hope in this relationship with a human, with this one person out of the millions upon billions of beings in the galaxy. But he had to. He had to believe that this was the one, that this would last.

Ianto was human; he wouldn't always be here. But that wasn't a reason to not be hopeful that their relationship would last beyond the time that Ianto had been given in this realm, that something out of their control might happen to give them more time together.

He shifted his position slightly, wincing as he did so. He'd just been through an experience that he didn't care to repeat, or even to talk about, at the moment -- which made him glad that Ianto was asleep. But they'd have to discuss it sometime.

How many more times could something like that happen before he would break entirely, and Ianto would have to pick up the scattered pieces? An inward shudder shook his thin body; that was yet another possibility that he didn't want to think about.

Where had the pleasant thoughts gone? They'd all been swept away in the last few moments, when he'd let his doubts and fears cloud his mind. The Doctor took a deep breath, focusing his gaze on Ianto's face and trying to recapture the serenity he'd been feeling just a few minutes ago.

There. Just looking at Ianto could bring back that tranquility, that hope for the future that he always felt when he looked at the face of the man he loved. Something about Ianto always made him feel calm, centered, secure -- as if he was exactly where he belonged.

As he lay there, a smile curving his lips as he watched Ianto sleep, the young man's eyes opened, his bleary gaze alighting on the Time Lord. A smile spread over the Welshman's face as he put a hand to his mouth to cover a yawn.

"Well, hello," he said softly, his voice slightly hoarse from sleep, stretching his lean body out under the covers and reaching for the Doctor. "How long have you been lying there and watching me? And with such an enigmatic expression, too."

The Doctor let himself be pulled into his lover's arms, snuggling close to Ianto and letting the worries and anxieties fall away. He was where he wanted to be, safe in the arms of the man he loved, protected from anything that could befall him.

"Not long," he answered, the only words that he could get out before Ianto's lips found his, and the need to speak was rendered null and void. He gave himself up to the pleasure of that kiss, letting the hope for what their future could be envelop him like a flood of sunshine.

***