The Storms of Change Chapter Twenty-Five
Title: Bonding
Story: The Storms of Change
Series: The Sentinels
Words: 1,008
"How do you not hate coffee?"
Ianto looked up from his paperwork and the open files spread around his desk. Owen had his usual scowl, which had become nearly a permanent expression on his face ever since he'd died but there was also a glint of curiosity in his eyes.
"This coming from the man who's veins ran, not blood, but coffee and beer?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
Owen's scowl deepened as he sat in the unoccupied chair beside Ianto's desk. "Really, how do you stand the stuff?"
Ianto shrugged, "I got use to it. A year before University, and all throughout, I worked as a barista. At first I didn't like coffee but after a while I began to live on it."
"You must be made of coffee," Owen grumbled.
Ianto chuckled, "Probably. Is there something you need?"
Owen hesitated and Ianto wondered. Doctor Owen Harper did not hesitate when he wanted something. "You're…all powerful aren't you?"
Ianto sighed, understanding what this was about. "I spoke to the governors of our laws and for the time being I can't. There's something you're destined for."
"Can't you just…do it anyway?"
"They'd stop me before I could and then you'd never be fixed." Ianto leaned back, "For the time being I have to figure out how I'm going to go about healing you."
Owen looked confused, "Isn't it simple?"
Ianto shook his head with a laugh, "Did dying addle your brain? You have a bullet wound in your chest and your body is dead. I start healing you with no preparation and control than your heart will start to beat first, then you'll die and the process will repeat itself over and over. Not to mention the excruciating pain and the possible brain damage that will result, not that your brain isn't already damaged but, you know."
Owen just snarled unintelligently and stalked off, but Ianto had seen the understanding in his eyes, and the acceptance.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Doesn't that bother you?" Owen asked Ianto, joining him on the catwalk where they observed Gwen appreciating Jack's behind as the man studied what was on Tosh's computer. Owen was sure that if he was Ianto he'd have already blown his top. It was no secret that Gwen had this fascination with Jack, one that he wanted to be intimate. Ianto was strangely calm about it.
"She'd idealistic," Ianto replied. "In her perfect vision of the world, she's the one lusted for by the dashing heroes, the one everyone else wants but can't have because she wants the hero."
Owen snorted, "Am I a dashing hero or one of the losers?"
Ianto shrugged, "Depends. You're good looking but you are a bastard."
Owen smirked. He was, and Ianto's insight into Gwen's life was very accurate, or so he thought. Gwen did see herself as above everyone else, where really she was just average and full of abnormal amounts of compassion.
"Like I said: idealistic."
Owen frowned. He hadn't said anything. He glanced at Ianto but he was still looking down into the Hub. How the hell did he do it?
"The dead don't have the natural mental shields of the living," Ianto said softly. "You think way too loudly and I can only block out so much."
"You're telepathic naturally?"
Ianto nodded, "I've learned to tune people out, except when their thoughts get too loud and even then I pretend I haven't heard. I think it's one reason why I haven't killed Gwen yet. Her idealism has overshadowed the realistic part of herself so much that she doesn’t even realize it. I actually feel kind of sorry for her."
And at that, Owen couldn't help but think that Gwen had been one of Torchwood's big mistakes. Her compassion was nothing compared to Ianto's, and though he may not be flashy affectionate like her, his affection was ten times better and more powerful.
"I love you too," Ianto deadpanned.
Fuck.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"You lazy fucker."
Ianto looked up briefly before returning to the book he was reading.
"Is there something you would like Owen?" he asked absently, more focused on the zombies in his book than the zombie in front of him. He was just waiting for Owen to get a clue.
"Yeah!" Owen said outraged. "When the hell did you get a bed down here?"
"It's not a bed," Ianto replied. "It's a futon."
"Same thing. Do you sleep half the time you come down to the Archives? Bloody hell do you fuck Jack down here?"
Ianto closed his book and set it down beside him. There was no hope of him finishing the chapter now. "There's a different room we prefer."
Owen made a face, "I so didn't need to know that."
Ianto chuckled, "Was that all?"
Owen scowled, "Are you trying to get rid of me?"
"Is it that obvious?"
Owen sighed and flopped down beside him. "You're the reason I got through medical school."
Ianto raised an eyebrow, "Is that a good or bad thing?"
Owen shrugged, "I sometimes wonder. I've done a lot of good and it got me this job. On the other hand, it got me this job."
Ianto nodded, "It's funny, I was thinking of you when I decided I wanted to get my MD. Who takes care of the doctor when the doctor is sick?"
"Thanks," Owen said after a minute and he gave Ianto a very brief hug.
He frowned, studied Ianto like was a mystery then touched his shoulder. Ianto looked at the hand then at Owen's face, not understanding the constant stream of 'oh my god' running through the man's brain.
He flinched out of surprise when Owen straddled him, wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in his neck. "I think I love you."
"O-kay?"
Chapter Twenty-Six
Story: The Storms of Change
Series: The Sentinels
Words: 1,008
"How do you not hate coffee?"
Ianto looked up from his paperwork and the open files spread around his desk. Owen had his usual scowl, which had become nearly a permanent expression on his face ever since he'd died but there was also a glint of curiosity in his eyes.
"This coming from the man who's veins ran, not blood, but coffee and beer?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
Owen's scowl deepened as he sat in the unoccupied chair beside Ianto's desk. "Really, how do you stand the stuff?"
Ianto shrugged, "I got use to it. A year before University, and all throughout, I worked as a barista. At first I didn't like coffee but after a while I began to live on it."
"You must be made of coffee," Owen grumbled.
Ianto chuckled, "Probably. Is there something you need?"
Owen hesitated and Ianto wondered. Doctor Owen Harper did not hesitate when he wanted something. "You're…all powerful aren't you?"
Ianto sighed, understanding what this was about. "I spoke to the governors of our laws and for the time being I can't. There's something you're destined for."
"Can't you just…do it anyway?"
"They'd stop me before I could and then you'd never be fixed." Ianto leaned back, "For the time being I have to figure out how I'm going to go about healing you."
Owen looked confused, "Isn't it simple?"
Ianto shook his head with a laugh, "Did dying addle your brain? You have a bullet wound in your chest and your body is dead. I start healing you with no preparation and control than your heart will start to beat first, then you'll die and the process will repeat itself over and over. Not to mention the excruciating pain and the possible brain damage that will result, not that your brain isn't already damaged but, you know."
Owen just snarled unintelligently and stalked off, but Ianto had seen the understanding in his eyes, and the acceptance.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Doesn't that bother you?" Owen asked Ianto, joining him on the catwalk where they observed Gwen appreciating Jack's behind as the man studied what was on Tosh's computer. Owen was sure that if he was Ianto he'd have already blown his top. It was no secret that Gwen had this fascination with Jack, one that he wanted to be intimate. Ianto was strangely calm about it.
"She'd idealistic," Ianto replied. "In her perfect vision of the world, she's the one lusted for by the dashing heroes, the one everyone else wants but can't have because she wants the hero."
Owen snorted, "Am I a dashing hero or one of the losers?"
Ianto shrugged, "Depends. You're good looking but you are a bastard."
Owen smirked. He was, and Ianto's insight into Gwen's life was very accurate, or so he thought. Gwen did see herself as above everyone else, where really she was just average and full of abnormal amounts of compassion.
"Like I said: idealistic."
Owen frowned. He hadn't said anything. He glanced at Ianto but he was still looking down into the Hub. How the hell did he do it?
"The dead don't have the natural mental shields of the living," Ianto said softly. "You think way too loudly and I can only block out so much."
"You're telepathic naturally?"
Ianto nodded, "I've learned to tune people out, except when their thoughts get too loud and even then I pretend I haven't heard. I think it's one reason why I haven't killed Gwen yet. Her idealism has overshadowed the realistic part of herself so much that she doesn’t even realize it. I actually feel kind of sorry for her."
And at that, Owen couldn't help but think that Gwen had been one of Torchwood's big mistakes. Her compassion was nothing compared to Ianto's, and though he may not be flashy affectionate like her, his affection was ten times better and more powerful.
"I love you too," Ianto deadpanned.
Fuck.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"You lazy fucker."
Ianto looked up briefly before returning to the book he was reading.
"Is there something you would like Owen?" he asked absently, more focused on the zombies in his book than the zombie in front of him. He was just waiting for Owen to get a clue.
"Yeah!" Owen said outraged. "When the hell did you get a bed down here?"
"It's not a bed," Ianto replied. "It's a futon."
"Same thing. Do you sleep half the time you come down to the Archives? Bloody hell do you fuck Jack down here?"
Ianto closed his book and set it down beside him. There was no hope of him finishing the chapter now. "There's a different room we prefer."
Owen made a face, "I so didn't need to know that."
Ianto chuckled, "Was that all?"
Owen scowled, "Are you trying to get rid of me?"
"Is it that obvious?"
Owen sighed and flopped down beside him. "You're the reason I got through medical school."
Ianto raised an eyebrow, "Is that a good or bad thing?"
Owen shrugged, "I sometimes wonder. I've done a lot of good and it got me this job. On the other hand, it got me this job."
Ianto nodded, "It's funny, I was thinking of you when I decided I wanted to get my MD. Who takes care of the doctor when the doctor is sick?"
"Thanks," Owen said after a minute and he gave Ianto a very brief hug.
He frowned, studied Ianto like was a mystery then touched his shoulder. Ianto looked at the hand then at Owen's face, not understanding the constant stream of 'oh my god' running through the man's brain.
He flinched out of surprise when Owen straddled him, wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in his neck. "I think I love you."
"O-kay?"
Chapter Twenty-Six