TITLE: Love the coat aka Five Times Ianto sleeps with The Coat
AUTHOR: Erin Giles
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Torchwood is property of the BBC and RTD. (as is the coat)
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: Ianto/coat, Ianto/Jack
SUMMARY: Five drabbles that depict five times Ianto Jones slept with Jack Harkness' coat. Mostly angsty.

Jack glanced across to the man in the passenger seat of the SUV. His head was lolling against the headrest, as he dozed fitfully. Jack watched as bruised and bloody knuckles clutched instinctively for the blue wool of his greatcoat.

"Sir, I'm fine, really." Ianto insisted, trying to push away the coat that Jack was laying over him, as he sat shivering in the passenger seat.

"Just take the damn coat Ianto so we can get the fuck out of here." Owen grouched as he climbed into the SUV behind Ianto. Ianto and Jack's eyes locked for a moment before Ianto gave up, and instead of pushing the coat away, clutched it tightly to his chest, nodding his thanks to his Captain.

Jack was gone. He'd left and Ianto had realised too late just how much he'd come to care for him. He clung to the coat, trying to breathe in its scent, of Jack, grateful that it still lingered. That musky smell of sweat on the collar, coffee Jack accidentally spilled and thinks Ianto won't notice, and 51st Century pheromones that smell oddly like the new aftershave from Diesel. But it's not. It's Jack – or the sensory remains of him at least.

Ianto sunk to the floor behind Jack's desk and cried. He cried until there was only dry sobs left, until his grief took him into exhausted sleep.

"I can't move," Ianto said breathlessly, shivering slightly as his bare backside rested on the cold concrete of Jack's office floor. Jack's deep-bellied chuckle sounded from beside him, vibrating through him where Jack's hands and legs were still touching him.

"I don't think my office floor is the comfiest or warmest place to sleep."

Jack watched in amusement as Ianto's hand groped blindly about the floor before his fingers brushed against Jack's wool coat. His gaze turned to one of fondness as Ianto dragged the heavy fabric over his naked body, his toes wriggling as they poked out the end. Jack laughed again before leaning in to kiss Ianto's closed eyelids.

Jack came back from taking a distraught Gwen home to Rhys to find Ianto sat on the couch crying into Jack's dirty coat. Two thousand years of dirt was still clinging to it, matted in places, but Ianto didn't seem to care, letting the dirt stick to his tear-streaked face.

"Ianto?" Jack hesitated at the top of the stairs.

Ianto looked up abruptly, "You weren't here." He sobbed. "I didn't want to wash it because it would stop smelling like you, and you weren't here to be you," Ianto was flustered, at a loss for words in his grief. Jack crossed to the couch and sat down beside Ianto, pulling him into his arms, letting him cry himself into an exhausted sleep.

"'m cold," Ianto whispered softly against Jack's shoulder. Jack was already pulling his coat off, wrapping it round Ianto as tightly as he could, trying to stave off even a fraction of the cold that was seeping into their bones.

"What about you?" Ianto mumbled, his words slurring slightly as his head flopped back down onto Jack's shoulder.

"I'll survive." There was something choked back in Jack's words as he watched Ianto's eyes slipping closed.

"Get some sleep," Jack whispered, pressing a kiss to Ianto's forehead, watching as the white-knuckle grip on Jack's coat went lax.

Ianto never woke up.