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Jack lay awake in bed, listening to the comforting purr of the ship’s engines. The small cabin was dark, the lights set to simulate the day-night cycle of Earth. It was the only thing that still reminded Jack of Cardiff, of Ianto, of home, and yet he wouldn’t ask John to change it. He’d already asked far too much of his (former? current? temporary?) partner.
The man was curled up beside him, face half-buried in a pillow, features softened by sleep. They’d fallen into bed over four hours earlier, and while John was out in a matter of minutes, Jack simply couldn’t sleep. Oh, he was tired, and he’d closed his eyes. But every time, he drifted away, he’d snap right back with a scream building in his throat. It wasn’t worth the effort.
John shuffled a little, a half-formed noise falling from his mouth. Jack glanced at him, but he didn’t seem any closer to waking. Good. At least one person would be well-rested. Not that John knew he spent most of the night away from their bed. He’d considered telling him; he might have had a word of advice or, more likely, sleep-inducing drugs. But Jack had admitted enough already. John knew about the 456, about Ianto, about Steven. He knew that Jack had run away and, out of a purely selfish loyalty, had helped pick up the pieces.
And now John had what he’d wanted. Jack by his side and in his bed. The glitter of the galaxy so close it could be caught under their fingernails. Jack couldn’t deny the part of him that loved the idea. But it was a small part. The rest of him just felt cold dread at the idea of eternally running. He’d found happiness, but he couldn’t keep it.
With a small sigh, Jack rolled onto his side. He traced fingertips along John’s arm, tracing scars he knew and scars he didn’t. He inched closer, pressing his chest to John’s back and draping an arm over him. John moved into his touch a little too deliberately to be purely subconscious. Jack resisted the urge to laugh.
“John,” he said lightly instead. A moment or two passed, then John made a sleepy noise of affirmation. “How long have you been up?”
“Depends,” John murmured, voice rough. “How long since you crawled back into bed?” Jack blinked in surprise. “You’re not very subtle, although I’ll give you points for effort.”
“Sorry,” Jack said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” John rolled over to face him, eyes bright but lids heavy with sleep.
“Anything can wake me.” He grinned. “If I die, it won’t be in my sleep.” Jack hummed affirmatively. He knew John was a light sleeper, but that had been over twenty years ago. He thought maybe he’d changed. (Or that he trusted Jack enough to let down his guard.) “So, tell me. Why are you roaming my ship at night?” His smile grew a bit more bitter. “Decided one of those bounties on my head would fill that hole inside of you?”
“Watch it,” Jack growled. “Or I just might.” But the threat was half-hearted, and John knew it. He huffed lightly.
“You didn’t answer my question,” John said, tapping a finger on Jack’s chest. “Even immortals need sleep.”
“I don’t,” Jack muttered. He did, but he wasn’t going to admit that. “And what, I can’t stretch my legs?”
“Not for three hours.” John pouted slightly. “The bed went cold.” Jack chuckled.
“Is that what I am to you, your personal heater?”
“Among other things,” John murmured. He leaned in to capture Jack’s lips, and Jack let him. It was surprisingly chaste, and Jack found himself significantly more relaxed when John pulled back. “C’mon, you should try and sleep. Might make you less grumpy.”
“Hey!” Jack complained weakly. “I can’t sleep. I don’t want to-” John shushed him, pressing a finger to his lips.
“You need sleep,” he said firmly. “I don’t care if you’ve got the power of the vortex flowing through you, you’re still human. Your brain needs the time to process.” Jack’s breath hitched, just slightly.
“I don’t want to process,” he admitted. “I don’t want to admit-” he trailed off, but by the look on John’s face, he didn’t need to finish. “It’s not pretty, John. I don’t want you to see.”
For a moment, John’s face morphed into something almost sorrowful. But then he smiled, soft and raw. He kissed Jack again then all but wrapped himself around him, limbs entwining in a way that was almost uncharacteristically unsexual. His face burrowed into the crook of Jack’s neck, his breath warm on his skin.
“Let go. I’ll catch you.”