Torchwood fic - Office Perils
Title: Office Perils
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Summary: “It seems to me, sir, that you’re becoming quite attached to my tie.”
Note: This is mylodon's fault. Completely. There I was, thinking that there's nothing remotely interesting about staplers when she casually mentions that this could happen. I'm innocent, I tell you *strikes dramatic pose*
“Sir? Jack, what are you doing?”
Jack stroked his fingers along the smooth silk of Ianto’s tie, pulling it slowly towards him so that Ianto was forced to lean further across the desk that separated them. “I’m not doing anything.”
“It seems to me, sir, that you’re becoming quite attached to my tie.”
The reprimand in Ianto’s voice went unnoticed by Jack, who cocked his head to one side and smiled as innocently as he was able.
“Don’t start, Jack. It’s not going to work on me again.”
The captain raised a curious eyebrow and continued to smile up at Ianto. “What’s not going to work? I told you, I’m not doing anything.”
A sigh was Ianto’s only reply. He was resisting the urge to retaliate by latching on to Jack’s braces - and no doubt the captain would encourage such behaviour - but that would only push Jack to further the bounds of interoffice affairs and Owen was unbearable enough without gaining a whole new arsenal to direct at Ianto whenever he felt like it.
“I’ll stop if you want me to.”
“Somehow I don’t believe that.”
“Just say the word and I’ll stop.”
Ianto paused, the command coming to an abrupt halt on the tip of his tongue. He cleared his throat as Jack ran a single hand up the length of his tie to curl around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. Ianto fell forward and thrust both arms out to catch himself as his weight crashed against Jack’s desk, sending paper flying and knocking an empty coffee cup to the floor. He sighed again. “Jack.”
“Ianto.” Jack had a small smile on his face, the kind of knowing grin that he wore when he knew that he was right and everybody else was wrong. “Something wrong?”
“No, in case it has escaped your notice, I always sprawl across your desk. It’s right there on my list of duties between making coffee and terrorising the tourists unfortunate enough to seek information from our little centre.”
“Are you being sarcastic again?”
“No, sir.”
Jack nodded to himself. “Definitely sarcastic.” He wound the tie around his fingers, stopping only when he reached the buttoned collar of Ianto’s shirt. He grinned suddenly and released the tie, laughing inwardly at the carefully hidden look of disappointment that flashed briefly across Ianto’s face. “Go on then, sprawl all you like.” He picked up a file from the floor and began reading, ignoring the look of disbelief being directed at him.
“If that’s all, sir, I believe it’s time to feed the pterodactyl.” Ianto felt off kilter, uneasy at the casual way Jack was flipping through the files and madly stapling sheets together. Not because he was, more or less, bent over Jack’s desk (he’d known since he’d started working at Torchwood Three that it would happen eventually) and not because Jack had just stapled a laser requisition form to a report meant for the United Nations but since he was, for all intents and purposes, favouring work over play.
A softly muttered curse caught Ianto’s attention, drawing his eyes away from the painful disarray of the files. “What?”
Jack gave a nervous shrug and leapt to his feet. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Why don’t I get you a coffee? Just…just stay there and don’t move.” He made for the door and breathed a sigh of relief when he made it into the main section of the Hub. Waving away the curious glances Gwen was sending in his direction, he quickly rummaged through a drawer in search of the only thing that could possibly save him from yet another death.
“Why are you stealing my staple remover?” Owen leaned against his workstation, arms folded and a hard glint in his eye. “What’ve you done now?”
Jack opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by an anguished yell.
“JACK, HOW THE HELL DID YOU STAPLE MY TIE TO YOUR DESK?”
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Summary: “It seems to me, sir, that you’re becoming quite attached to my tie.”
Note: This is mylodon's fault. Completely. There I was, thinking that there's nothing remotely interesting about staplers when she casually mentions that this could happen. I'm innocent, I tell you *strikes dramatic pose*
“Sir? Jack, what are you doing?”
Jack stroked his fingers along the smooth silk of Ianto’s tie, pulling it slowly towards him so that Ianto was forced to lean further across the desk that separated them. “I’m not doing anything.”
“It seems to me, sir, that you’re becoming quite attached to my tie.”
The reprimand in Ianto’s voice went unnoticed by Jack, who cocked his head to one side and smiled as innocently as he was able.
“Don’t start, Jack. It’s not going to work on me again.”
The captain raised a curious eyebrow and continued to smile up at Ianto. “What’s not going to work? I told you, I’m not doing anything.”
A sigh was Ianto’s only reply. He was resisting the urge to retaliate by latching on to Jack’s braces - and no doubt the captain would encourage such behaviour - but that would only push Jack to further the bounds of interoffice affairs and Owen was unbearable enough without gaining a whole new arsenal to direct at Ianto whenever he felt like it.
“I’ll stop if you want me to.”
“Somehow I don’t believe that.”
“Just say the word and I’ll stop.”
Ianto paused, the command coming to an abrupt halt on the tip of his tongue. He cleared his throat as Jack ran a single hand up the length of his tie to curl around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. Ianto fell forward and thrust both arms out to catch himself as his weight crashed against Jack’s desk, sending paper flying and knocking an empty coffee cup to the floor. He sighed again. “Jack.”
“Ianto.” Jack had a small smile on his face, the kind of knowing grin that he wore when he knew that he was right and everybody else was wrong. “Something wrong?”
“No, in case it has escaped your notice, I always sprawl across your desk. It’s right there on my list of duties between making coffee and terrorising the tourists unfortunate enough to seek information from our little centre.”
“Are you being sarcastic again?”
“No, sir.”
Jack nodded to himself. “Definitely sarcastic.” He wound the tie around his fingers, stopping only when he reached the buttoned collar of Ianto’s shirt. He grinned suddenly and released the tie, laughing inwardly at the carefully hidden look of disappointment that flashed briefly across Ianto’s face. “Go on then, sprawl all you like.” He picked up a file from the floor and began reading, ignoring the look of disbelief being directed at him.
“If that’s all, sir, I believe it’s time to feed the pterodactyl.” Ianto felt off kilter, uneasy at the casual way Jack was flipping through the files and madly stapling sheets together. Not because he was, more or less, bent over Jack’s desk (he’d known since he’d started working at Torchwood Three that it would happen eventually) and not because Jack had just stapled a laser requisition form to a report meant for the United Nations but since he was, for all intents and purposes, favouring work over play.
A softly muttered curse caught Ianto’s attention, drawing his eyes away from the painful disarray of the files. “What?”
Jack gave a nervous shrug and leapt to his feet. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Why don’t I get you a coffee? Just…just stay there and don’t move.” He made for the door and breathed a sigh of relief when he made it into the main section of the Hub. Waving away the curious glances Gwen was sending in his direction, he quickly rummaged through a drawer in search of the only thing that could possibly save him from yet another death.
“Why are you stealing my staple remover?” Owen leaned against his workstation, arms folded and a hard glint in his eye. “What’ve you done now?”
Jack opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by an anguished yell.
“JACK, HOW THE HELL DID YOU STAPLE MY TIE TO YOUR DESK?”