One Shot: Jack & Ianto - The Argument
Title: The Argument
Author: a_silver_story
Chapter: One Shot
Genre: Romance, Angsty, fluffy
Rating: R?
Pairings: Jack and Ianto
Warnings: Sexual references and a minor touch of Gwen bumping. Not quite a bash ... but she's not Ianto's favourite person during this.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know. Now pass the retcon ...
Summary: One shot inspired by a prompt traciaknows posted on tw_ficrequests. I say inspired by, because I didn't exactly stick to it ...
I'd love to see a story that had a J/I argument, set the day after Gwen's wedding, where Ianto throws Jack out of his flat and they yell at each other from opposite sides of the door- extra points if you can get Jack back into the flat through a window or other methods other than the door...
Torchwood Index/Masterlist
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Oh, for Christ’s sake!
“I’m coming! I’m coming! - Jack? What is it?”
“Just ... thought I’d drop by.”
“It’s two AM ....”
“No time like the present!”
“Uh. Fine. Okay. Come in then.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t leave your boots there! Put them straight.”
“Sorry.”
“S’okay. Coffee?”
“Mmmm yes please!”
“Sit down and I’ll bring it through ...
... so what is it you’re after?”
“Just ... I dunno. A chat. Mmmmm coffee ...”
“... a ‘chat’? What’ve you done?”
“Nothing! I just ... was feeling a bit lonely after earlier, and you’re the first person I thought of.”
“Oh ... okay. Sorry.”
“Doesn’t matter ... I just wanted company.”
“Funny, that. When you want company you come banging on my door at two AM. If I want I company I get brushed off ...”
“Wha ...? That ... that’s not true! Hang on ... are you annoyed?”
“How observant of you, sir.”
“Woah woah ... don’t you go running off to the kitchen. What’s wrong? What have I done?”
“Don’t make me list the things you’ve done that annoy me. I don’t think we’ve got enough time. And stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what? Like I don’t know what you’re talking about? Because shockingly, I don’t.”
“Sorry, but being woken up from quite a nice peaceful sleep just to entertain you because you were bored doesn’t exactly leave me in the best of moods.”
“Sit down! Look, if you want me to go ... just tell me what I’ve done and save grief for both of us? Yeah?”
“Fine. Okay ... where to begin. Ah! I know: what song did we dance to tonight?”
“Umm ... I don’t know the name of it ...”
“What does it go like?”
“Like ... erm. It’s that bloke, innit?”
“Okayyy ... let’s try it with a different angle: what was the last song you danced to with Gwen?”
“Erm ... uh ... Paul Weller?”
“So you could be bothered to put that little bit of information away, but the memory of us dancing for the first time ever - after everything you’ve been telling me these past few weeks - slips through your fingers?”
“I don’t know the name of the song!”
“It was the same song, Jack! I cut in during that song because I chose it for us to dance to! ... or did you not think about that?”
“Hey, if anyone should be annoyed here, it should be me! You cut in our dance!”
“That’s what you’re supposed to do at weddings! The bride is passed around the men like dolled up cheesecake no one wants, and the women - or in our case, other partner, cuts in the dance.”
“You made that up!”
“How many twenty-first weddings have you been to, Jack?”
“Mainly my own! - ... oh ... sorry ... I ...”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“You’re annoyed that I can remember the song I danced with Gwen to, but not the song I danced with you to, even though you cut in while I was dancing with Gwen, ergo I remember the song we danced to.”
“... and then there was the way you totally ignored me when I came to cut in ...”
“I didn’t ignore you!”
“You did! And you made me feel like a right prat!”
“I didn’t realise you were there at first! You’re too quiet ...”
“I spoke to you, and then cleared my throat. I wasn’t being at all quiet!”
“You’re always quiet.”
“You’re always too noisy.”
“Rather noisy than constantly suppressing myself ...”
“What’s that supposed to mean ... ?”
“Nothing ... nothing ...”
“Jack!”
“Fine! You’re uptight and straight-laced and y’know what? Sometimes it just pisses me off that you won’t let go!”
“I do let go! Or have you forgotten all the times we’ve had sex as well?”
“I’m not talking about sex! I’m talking about a lazy Sunday afternoon where you’ll let yourself - I don’t know - wear comfortable clothes and lounge in front of the telly? Maybe leave the washing up a little longer than usual so that you can concentrate on not caring about it? How about ... how about ... letting your guard down?”
“... you’re hardly one for lecturing about letting guards down, Jack.”
“Even when you come you’re trying to keep your real self from me!”
“How dare you? ‘Keep my real self’ from you? At least you know my real name!”
“There’s ... the p-paradoxes. Timelines.”
“Do you not remember it? Is that it? Are you just lying to yourself so you don’t have to admit you can’t even remember your real name?”
“No ...”
“What is it?”
“Ianto ...”
“Jack!”
“Ianto!”
“What?”
“See! This is what happens when you don’t let go: all those little things you push down in the name of Stoic Butler get compressed and then come out in an argument over a tiny, silly little thing!”
“‘Tiny, silly little thing’? I’m sorry. In the future I’ll make sure I don’t know any of my partners’ names. I’m sure that will be easier for everybody.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You can be so childish sometimes ...”
“Why do you always forget how young I really am? Do I really come across so old that when I act my age you call me a child?”
“No!”
“What is it then? What is it you prefer: the professional persona, or me?”
“This isn’t a question of that, Ianto.”
“It feels like it is ...”
“Well ... it’s not. If it feels like it is, it’s in your muddled head.”
“Muddled head’? God, you’re going out of your way to piss me off tonight!”
“Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you!”
“Fucking wanker.”
“Uptight bastard.”
“I really hate you sometimes.”
“Yeah ... I know ...
so ... am I forgiven?”
“No.”
“Oh. Why?”
“You haven’t apologised.”
“Erm ... I’m sorry, Ianto.”
“Not good enough.”
“I ... I should never have called you suppressed and ... uptight. I know that’s your defence mechanism and ... I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No. You shouldn’t.”
“Ianto?”
“Mm?”
“I’m sorry you feel like a brush you off. I never, ever intend to do that.”
“I’m sure you don’t.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay.”
“Can I ... uh ... can I hold you for a bit?”
“Yeah. S’pose. Jack?”
“Mm?”
“Why didn’t you ask me to dance?”
“I ... I didn’t know if you’d want to. You’re not much of a dancer.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t like dancing in front of people. You can’t be offended by that observation, surely?”
“No. I’m not. I meant ‘didn’t know if I’d want to’. If you didn’t know, why didn’t you ask?”
“I didn’t want to get turned down in front of people.”
“Neither did I, but I still asked.”
“Please, Ianto. Don’t fight now. I know you’re annoyed at basically everything that’s happened over the past few hours but neither of us want to cope with this right now ...”
“You’d be surprised at how much I can cope with.”
“Are you purposefully picking a fight?”
“I’m trying to put the record straight! I’m trying to get my stance with you actually fucking worked out! Just tell me: am I above or below Gwen in your list of personal priorities?”
“Above, Ianto.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re ... and you ... and you’re ... while she’s ... and ...”
“Great. ‘I like you more than her’ would have sufficed, but I suppose we both know that’s not true.”
“Are you jealous of Gwen?”
“No! I just hate your favouritism of her!”
“Favouritism?”
“Favouritism!”
“How so?”
“Well, for starters, you employed her. And then you starting ranting and raving about how amazing she was because she went through Carys’ life, photographs and personal emails to make a pretty display.”
“She reminded us that Carys was human.”
“I was pretty fucking certain she was! I didn’t need an in-depth trawl through her emails and a couple of school photos to remind me of that!”
“Stop it, Ianto.”
“No! And let’s not forget that on said first day, she caused the deaths of ... how many people? Somewhere between seventeen and twenty-five wasn’t it? Difficult to tell, there were that many remains, some of them intermingling.”
“Ianto ...”
“Of course, there was Ed Morgan. Anyone with basic common sense knows to hold a knife down, not pointing out where someone might spear themselves on it!”
“Right, I’m going!”
“No you’re not! Sit down!”
“You sit down!”
“No! It’s not my fault you can’t handle the fact Gwen walks all over you!”
“Since when has she ‘walked all over me’?”
“Hmm ... let’s think ... I’m pretty sure that earlier today you made a pretty final decision that Gwen’s wedding couldn’t possibly go ahead. Gwen doesn’t like this. This makes Gwen upset. So what does she do? She tells you what she wants and you bend over backwards to make sure she gets it!”
“It was her wedding! Weddings are expensive!”
“If you’d stuck to your guns, the DJ wouldn’t be dead, the mother of the Bride wouldn’t have nearly had her head torn off and the entire wedding wouldn’t have had to have been retconned!”
“Look ... I ... she ... that’s one example!”
“Okay. Example number two: retconning Rhys.”
“It’s easier if he knows.”
“Easier for you, because Gwen won’t be all shout-y and crying in your face, screaming her self-righteous bollocks about how we’re all sad and single and couldn’t possibly understand just how difficult it is for her to have a blindly devoted partner who she deserves so much she spent most of her first year here shagging Owen!
Don’t you ever, ever slap me again, Jack Harkness.”
“I ... you’re just ... you were out of line!”
“You hit me. And since when was telling the truth being out of line?”
“You ... I ... I’m sorry ...”
“Get out of my flat.”
“Ianto - ”
“Out.”
“Ianto, I didn’t mean - ”
“Out!”
“Ianto?”
“Just go, Jack.”
“Open the door. Please. Let me apologise properly.”
“Leave me alone.”
“If you wanted me to go you’d have walked away from the door already.
I know you’re still there.”
“I’m listening for when you’ve definitely gone.”
“Then while you’re waiting for that, I’ll just sit and talk to you. Okay?”
“Jack ....”
“Yes, Ianto?”
“Please, just go!”
“No.”
“I’m not letting you back in.”
“You’re not going back to your room either. Just listen to me, Ianto.
I don’t know what you see between me and Gwen, but it’s nothing compared to what we have. Sure ... I lust after her. But ... her and me? Seriously - we hardly function as boss and employee! Could you imagine us as ... anything else? I can’t.
We’re too similar, I suppose. Gwen’s so stubborn, and she won’t ever back down. Eventually I get so weary ... I was humouring her at first, maybe.
But you can’t honestly sit there, behind that door, and swear to me that you’ve never once manipulated me to get what you want. And I ... shit ... I didn’t mean ... I’m not talking about that ... I mean ... you don’t scream and shout and stamp your feet in front of the others to get what you want. You do those little things. You change my mind rather than going against me - shut up, I’m talking - like your little sarcasms, or your jokes. Yes, you’re stubborn, but at least you know when it makes sense to relent. And you stand by me, even if you don’t completely agree.”
“That’s because you’re in charge, and I have to trust that you know best.”
“Even though I freely admit to you that most of the time, I don’t?”
“Your instincts have got us this far.”
“Not a great distance, if we’re honest.”
“No. But people in gridlocked traffic will inch those few centimetres forward simply because it takes them a little closer to their destination. You’ll get there eventually, Jack.”
“Mmmmm.
... you still there?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you let me in?”
“I just want to sleep, Jack.”
“I’ll sleep, too.”
“No, you’ll pretend to sleep. And then I won’t be able to sleep because I’ll know you’re not sleeping. And if you’re not sleeping you’re either on a roof or pacing. And the pacing annoys me.”
“I promise I’ll go to sleep.”
“You won’t, though.”
“I always manage to get to sleep in your bed.”
“Please, Jack. Take the hint. I want to be alone.”
“... okay. Okay ... I’ll ... I’ll go ....”
“Thank you.”
THUD
“Jack, if you’ve climbed through my window, I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“Air conditioning, actually.”
“Jack!”
“Got the wrong flat first time - Norma’s had her bathroom done, by the way. Very modern.”
“Pleeeeeeeeaase just go away?”
“I’ve come with apologies.”
“... such as?”
“I’m sorry, first of all, for breaking your air conditioning duct. Nothing a bit of tape won’t fix, though. Secondly, I apologise for not letting you go to sleep on an argument. Thirdly, I apologise for pacing when I think you’re sleeping. I’ll make sure you definitely are in the future. Fifthly .... no ... fourthly, I’m sorry you feel seconded to Gwen. You’re not, and I’ll buy you lots of cake to prove it. Fifthly - are we on five?”
“Yeah ...”
“Fifthly, I’m sorry I used duct tape for the CB radio on the SUV paintwork.”
“Finally! Have you any idea how long that took to scrub off?”
“It saved the world!”
“If the world had gone up in smoke, it wouldnt’ve been me that had to clean it up though, would it?”
“Ha! Sixthly: in the future, you shall be the first and last person I ask to dance, if that’s what you want. Seventhly - is that even a word? Must be ... - seventhly, I’m sorry you got woken up tonight by a lonely, self-pitying and rather bored Captain. In the future, I shall text first.
So! Are we okay?”
“Ohhhh, for Christ’s sake, Jack! Just get in bed ...”
“Yay!”
“Next to me! Not on me! Shift over ...”
“Sorry.”
“S’alright. Where are your boots? I didn’t hear you take them off ... ”
“I left them under the coats when you kicked me out.”
“Oh ... sorry ....”
“S’alright. Bare feet came in useful for scaling up vertical ducts.”
“Idiot.”
“I know.”
“... Jack?”
“Mmhm?”
“That had better be your belt buckle digging into my back.”
“Would you believe me if I said ‘no’?”
“Probably no - oi! Get your hand away from ... oh ... ohhhhhhh ... Jack ....”
“Shhhhhhh, Ianto. Enjoy it ....”
“I already am ....”
“Is it good?”
“Very good ....”
“Do you still want me to stop?”
“... shut up ...”
FIN
Hehe I had fun writing this! A little experiment, crossing scripts with narrative. Let me know how it went (... or didn't ...)
XD
Torchwood Index | Request a Convo/Prose Fic
Author: a_silver_story
Chapter: One Shot
Genre: Romance, Angsty, fluffy
Rating: R?
Pairings: Jack and Ianto
Warnings: Sexual references and a minor touch of Gwen bumping. Not quite a bash ... but she's not Ianto's favourite person during this.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know. Now pass the retcon ...
Summary: One shot inspired by a prompt traciaknows posted on tw_ficrequests. I say inspired by, because I didn't exactly stick to it ...
I'd love to see a story that had a J/I argument, set the day after Gwen's wedding, where Ianto throws Jack out of his flat and they yell at each other from opposite sides of the door- extra points if you can get Jack back into the flat through a window or other methods other than the door...
Torchwood Index/Masterlist
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Oh, for Christ’s sake!
“I’m coming! I’m coming! - Jack? What is it?”
“Just ... thought I’d drop by.”
“It’s two AM ....”
“No time like the present!”
“Uh. Fine. Okay. Come in then.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t leave your boots there! Put them straight.”
“Sorry.”
“S’okay. Coffee?”
“Mmmm yes please!”
“Sit down and I’ll bring it through ...
... so what is it you’re after?”
“Just ... I dunno. A chat. Mmmmm coffee ...”
“... a ‘chat’? What’ve you done?”
“Nothing! I just ... was feeling a bit lonely after earlier, and you’re the first person I thought of.”
“Oh ... okay. Sorry.”
“Doesn’t matter ... I just wanted company.”
“Funny, that. When you want company you come banging on my door at two AM. If I want I company I get brushed off ...”
“Wha ...? That ... that’s not true! Hang on ... are you annoyed?”
“How observant of you, sir.”
“Woah woah ... don’t you go running off to the kitchen. What’s wrong? What have I done?”
“Don’t make me list the things you’ve done that annoy me. I don’t think we’ve got enough time. And stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what? Like I don’t know what you’re talking about? Because shockingly, I don’t.”
“Sorry, but being woken up from quite a nice peaceful sleep just to entertain you because you were bored doesn’t exactly leave me in the best of moods.”
“Sit down! Look, if you want me to go ... just tell me what I’ve done and save grief for both of us? Yeah?”
“Fine. Okay ... where to begin. Ah! I know: what song did we dance to tonight?”
“Umm ... I don’t know the name of it ...”
“What does it go like?”
“Like ... erm. It’s that bloke, innit?”
“Okayyy ... let’s try it with a different angle: what was the last song you danced to with Gwen?”
“Erm ... uh ... Paul Weller?”
“So you could be bothered to put that little bit of information away, but the memory of us dancing for the first time ever - after everything you’ve been telling me these past few weeks - slips through your fingers?”
“I don’t know the name of the song!”
“It was the same song, Jack! I cut in during that song because I chose it for us to dance to! ... or did you not think about that?”
“Hey, if anyone should be annoyed here, it should be me! You cut in our dance!”
“That’s what you’re supposed to do at weddings! The bride is passed around the men like dolled up cheesecake no one wants, and the women - or in our case, other partner, cuts in the dance.”
“You made that up!”
“How many twenty-first weddings have you been to, Jack?”
“Mainly my own! - ... oh ... sorry ... I ...”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“You’re annoyed that I can remember the song I danced with Gwen to, but not the song I danced with you to, even though you cut in while I was dancing with Gwen, ergo I remember the song we danced to.”
“... and then there was the way you totally ignored me when I came to cut in ...”
“I didn’t ignore you!”
“You did! And you made me feel like a right prat!”
“I didn’t realise you were there at first! You’re too quiet ...”
“I spoke to you, and then cleared my throat. I wasn’t being at all quiet!”
“You’re always quiet.”
“You’re always too noisy.”
“Rather noisy than constantly suppressing myself ...”
“What’s that supposed to mean ... ?”
“Nothing ... nothing ...”
“Jack!”
“Fine! You’re uptight and straight-laced and y’know what? Sometimes it just pisses me off that you won’t let go!”
“I do let go! Or have you forgotten all the times we’ve had sex as well?”
“I’m not talking about sex! I’m talking about a lazy Sunday afternoon where you’ll let yourself - I don’t know - wear comfortable clothes and lounge in front of the telly? Maybe leave the washing up a little longer than usual so that you can concentrate on not caring about it? How about ... how about ... letting your guard down?”
“... you’re hardly one for lecturing about letting guards down, Jack.”
“Even when you come you’re trying to keep your real self from me!”
“How dare you? ‘Keep my real self’ from you? At least you know my real name!”
“There’s ... the p-paradoxes. Timelines.”
“Do you not remember it? Is that it? Are you just lying to yourself so you don’t have to admit you can’t even remember your real name?”
“No ...”
“What is it?”
“Ianto ...”
“Jack!”
“Ianto!”
“What?”
“See! This is what happens when you don’t let go: all those little things you push down in the name of Stoic Butler get compressed and then come out in an argument over a tiny, silly little thing!”
“‘Tiny, silly little thing’? I’m sorry. In the future I’ll make sure I don’t know any of my partners’ names. I’m sure that will be easier for everybody.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You can be so childish sometimes ...”
“Why do you always forget how young I really am? Do I really come across so old that when I act my age you call me a child?”
“No!”
“What is it then? What is it you prefer: the professional persona, or me?”
“This isn’t a question of that, Ianto.”
“It feels like it is ...”
“Well ... it’s not. If it feels like it is, it’s in your muddled head.”
“Muddled head’? God, you’re going out of your way to piss me off tonight!”
“Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you!”
“Fucking wanker.”
“Uptight bastard.”
“I really hate you sometimes.”
“Yeah ... I know ...
so ... am I forgiven?”
“No.”
“Oh. Why?”
“You haven’t apologised.”
“Erm ... I’m sorry, Ianto.”
“Not good enough.”
“I ... I should never have called you suppressed and ... uptight. I know that’s your defence mechanism and ... I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No. You shouldn’t.”
“Ianto?”
“Mm?”
“I’m sorry you feel like a brush you off. I never, ever intend to do that.”
“I’m sure you don’t.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay.”
“Can I ... uh ... can I hold you for a bit?”
“Yeah. S’pose. Jack?”
“Mm?”
“Why didn’t you ask me to dance?”
“I ... I didn’t know if you’d want to. You’re not much of a dancer.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t like dancing in front of people. You can’t be offended by that observation, surely?”
“No. I’m not. I meant ‘didn’t know if I’d want to’. If you didn’t know, why didn’t you ask?”
“I didn’t want to get turned down in front of people.”
“Neither did I, but I still asked.”
“Please, Ianto. Don’t fight now. I know you’re annoyed at basically everything that’s happened over the past few hours but neither of us want to cope with this right now ...”
“You’d be surprised at how much I can cope with.”
“Are you purposefully picking a fight?”
“I’m trying to put the record straight! I’m trying to get my stance with you actually fucking worked out! Just tell me: am I above or below Gwen in your list of personal priorities?”
“Above, Ianto.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re ... and you ... and you’re ... while she’s ... and ...”
“Great. ‘I like you more than her’ would have sufficed, but I suppose we both know that’s not true.”
“Are you jealous of Gwen?”
“No! I just hate your favouritism of her!”
“Favouritism?”
“Favouritism!”
“How so?”
“Well, for starters, you employed her. And then you starting ranting and raving about how amazing she was because she went through Carys’ life, photographs and personal emails to make a pretty display.”
“She reminded us that Carys was human.”
“I was pretty fucking certain she was! I didn’t need an in-depth trawl through her emails and a couple of school photos to remind me of that!”
“Stop it, Ianto.”
“No! And let’s not forget that on said first day, she caused the deaths of ... how many people? Somewhere between seventeen and twenty-five wasn’t it? Difficult to tell, there were that many remains, some of them intermingling.”
“Ianto ...”
“Of course, there was Ed Morgan. Anyone with basic common sense knows to hold a knife down, not pointing out where someone might spear themselves on it!”
“Right, I’m going!”
“No you’re not! Sit down!”
“You sit down!”
“No! It’s not my fault you can’t handle the fact Gwen walks all over you!”
“Since when has she ‘walked all over me’?”
“Hmm ... let’s think ... I’m pretty sure that earlier today you made a pretty final decision that Gwen’s wedding couldn’t possibly go ahead. Gwen doesn’t like this. This makes Gwen upset. So what does she do? She tells you what she wants and you bend over backwards to make sure she gets it!”
“It was her wedding! Weddings are expensive!”
“If you’d stuck to your guns, the DJ wouldn’t be dead, the mother of the Bride wouldn’t have nearly had her head torn off and the entire wedding wouldn’t have had to have been retconned!”
“Look ... I ... she ... that’s one example!”
“Okay. Example number two: retconning Rhys.”
“It’s easier if he knows.”
“Easier for you, because Gwen won’t be all shout-y and crying in your face, screaming her self-righteous bollocks about how we’re all sad and single and couldn’t possibly understand just how difficult it is for her to have a blindly devoted partner who she deserves so much she spent most of her first year here shagging Owen!
Don’t you ever, ever slap me again, Jack Harkness.”
“I ... you’re just ... you were out of line!”
“You hit me. And since when was telling the truth being out of line?”
“You ... I ... I’m sorry ...”
“Get out of my flat.”
“Ianto - ”
“Out.”
“Ianto, I didn’t mean - ”
“Out!”
“Ianto?”
“Just go, Jack.”
“Open the door. Please. Let me apologise properly.”
“Leave me alone.”
“If you wanted me to go you’d have walked away from the door already.
I know you’re still there.”
“I’m listening for when you’ve definitely gone.”
“Then while you’re waiting for that, I’ll just sit and talk to you. Okay?”
“Jack ....”
“Yes, Ianto?”
“Please, just go!”
“No.”
“I’m not letting you back in.”
“You’re not going back to your room either. Just listen to me, Ianto.
I don’t know what you see between me and Gwen, but it’s nothing compared to what we have. Sure ... I lust after her. But ... her and me? Seriously - we hardly function as boss and employee! Could you imagine us as ... anything else? I can’t.
We’re too similar, I suppose. Gwen’s so stubborn, and she won’t ever back down. Eventually I get so weary ... I was humouring her at first, maybe.
But you can’t honestly sit there, behind that door, and swear to me that you’ve never once manipulated me to get what you want. And I ... shit ... I didn’t mean ... I’m not talking about that ... I mean ... you don’t scream and shout and stamp your feet in front of the others to get what you want. You do those little things. You change my mind rather than going against me - shut up, I’m talking - like your little sarcasms, or your jokes. Yes, you’re stubborn, but at least you know when it makes sense to relent. And you stand by me, even if you don’t completely agree.”
“That’s because you’re in charge, and I have to trust that you know best.”
“Even though I freely admit to you that most of the time, I don’t?”
“Your instincts have got us this far.”
“Not a great distance, if we’re honest.”
“No. But people in gridlocked traffic will inch those few centimetres forward simply because it takes them a little closer to their destination. You’ll get there eventually, Jack.”
“Mmmmm.
... you still there?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you let me in?”
“I just want to sleep, Jack.”
“I’ll sleep, too.”
“No, you’ll pretend to sleep. And then I won’t be able to sleep because I’ll know you’re not sleeping. And if you’re not sleeping you’re either on a roof or pacing. And the pacing annoys me.”
“I promise I’ll go to sleep.”
“You won’t, though.”
“I always manage to get to sleep in your bed.”
“Please, Jack. Take the hint. I want to be alone.”
“... okay. Okay ... I’ll ... I’ll go ....”
“Thank you.”
THUD
“Jack, if you’ve climbed through my window, I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“Air conditioning, actually.”
“Jack!”
“Got the wrong flat first time - Norma’s had her bathroom done, by the way. Very modern.”
“Pleeeeeeeeaase just go away?”
“I’ve come with apologies.”
“... such as?”
“I’m sorry, first of all, for breaking your air conditioning duct. Nothing a bit of tape won’t fix, though. Secondly, I apologise for not letting you go to sleep on an argument. Thirdly, I apologise for pacing when I think you’re sleeping. I’ll make sure you definitely are in the future. Fifthly .... no ... fourthly, I’m sorry you feel seconded to Gwen. You’re not, and I’ll buy you lots of cake to prove it. Fifthly - are we on five?”
“Yeah ...”
“Fifthly, I’m sorry I used duct tape for the CB radio on the SUV paintwork.”
“Finally! Have you any idea how long that took to scrub off?”
“It saved the world!”
“If the world had gone up in smoke, it wouldnt’ve been me that had to clean it up though, would it?”
“Ha! Sixthly: in the future, you shall be the first and last person I ask to dance, if that’s what you want. Seventhly - is that even a word? Must be ... - seventhly, I’m sorry you got woken up tonight by a lonely, self-pitying and rather bored Captain. In the future, I shall text first.
So! Are we okay?”
“Ohhhh, for Christ’s sake, Jack! Just get in bed ...”
“Yay!”
“Next to me! Not on me! Shift over ...”
“Sorry.”
“S’alright. Where are your boots? I didn’t hear you take them off ... ”
“I left them under the coats when you kicked me out.”
“Oh ... sorry ....”
“S’alright. Bare feet came in useful for scaling up vertical ducts.”
“Idiot.”
“I know.”
“... Jack?”
“Mmhm?”
“That had better be your belt buckle digging into my back.”
“Would you believe me if I said ‘no’?”
“Probably no - oi! Get your hand away from ... oh ... ohhhhhhh ... Jack ....”
“Shhhhhhh, Ianto. Enjoy it ....”
“I already am ....”
“Is it good?”
“Very good ....”
“Do you still want me to stop?”
“... shut up ...”
FIN
Hehe I had fun writing this! A little experiment, crossing scripts with narrative. Let me know how it went (... or didn't ...)
XD
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