What the Odds Are by misura / Jack/Ianto / PG / round #1
Title: What the Odds Are
Author: misura
Pairing: Ianto Jones, Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Fandom(s): Doctor Who, Torchwood
For: wicciangirl
Elements: Jack/Ianto, Time Agent Ianto, romance
Thanks: to the usual suspects
Warnings: This ficlet will completely fail to make any sense at all, unless you've seen 'The Empty Child'. Time Agent!Ianto meets pre-Torchwood!Jack AU.
Summary: London during the Blitz was not Ianto's idea of a good place for a romantic dinner-date.
They arrived just in time to see the explosion that destroyed an empty warehouse, a stretch of road that was (if anything) likely to have been improved by the experience, and a Dogon explorer - meaning that somewhere, it was raining Dogon eyes right now, and if Ianto was unlucky, he'd be the one who'd receive the assignment to go and collect them. It was, in other words, not a good day.
"Damn. Don't you just hate it when that happens?"
For someone who'd seen half a small fortune literally go up in smoke mere seconds ago (Ianto's ears were still ringing, in fact - he'd have to remember to wear some sort of earplugs next time he'd come here) Captain Jack Harkness (rank definitely fake, name possibly) sounded remarkably cheerful. For a brief moment, Ianto toyed with the idea of taking advantage of that apparent good mood, suggesting that since the Time Agency wasn't going to get its prize, perhaps Jack might return (a part of) the down payment - a mere goodwill gesture, of course; no pressure and definitely no hinting at the possibility that if Jack were to refuse, he might find the Time Agency far less generous next time he had something to sell. The moment didn't seem quite right though; perhaps he'd mention it later, if there was any later. London during the Blitz didn't quite meet Ianto's idea of a nice place to hang around.
"You sound like this sort of thing has happened to you more often," Ianto noted, considering what he ought to do next. Sift through the debris and hope nobody'd question his presence? The warehouse was supposed to have been empty, but given that there was a war going on, Ianto wouldn't be willing to bet on that. Might have been all kinds of junk in there. Without something a lot more sophisticated than what he was carrying right now, he'd likely mistake a can of sardines for a Salzar flashlight - not that either would be of much use to the Time Agency, although Ianto supposed Hartman might be interested in a discovery of Salzar tech on a Dogon vessel.
Jack chuckled. "Actually, I was talking more in general - you know, about life, the universe and everything?" It took Ianto a moment to catch the reference (he'd spent three days making sure he knew which authors might be quoted and referred to - Shakespeare, Marlowe, Austen - and which were yet to come - Adams, Gaiman, Pratchett - and now here he was, having barely exchanged half a dozen words with anyone local; it was almost enough to make a man believe in bad luck).
"I mean," Jack continued, apparently having decided the Adams-reference had been lost on Ianto, "here we are. It's not raining, there's a beautiful moon and we've got a whole night ahead of us."
"There's also a war going on," Ianto felt obliged to point out. A 'whole night ahead'? Well, for Jack, perhaps; Ianto had every intention of leaving as soon as possible.
Jack shrugged. "There's always a war going on somewhere. Nothing new about that. And besides, they're going to lose this one."
"I know that." Ianto didn't quite see why that would matter to him though; in the long run, what difference had the outcome of this war really made? Millions of people dead, and in the end, what had the victors had to show for it? The satisfaction of knowing they'd won?
"Yeah, well, so what would you say if I invited you to dinner? My treat," Jack added. Ianto wondered if he'd imagined the slightly uncomfortable expression on Jack's face at Ianto's less-than-enthusiastic response to his assurance that this would be yet another war the Germans were going to lose.
"Here?" Ianto couldn't keep from sounding dubious. He'd made the mistake of stealing some coffee earlier, having run out of the good stuff he'd brought himself and telling himself that when it came down to it, coffee was coffee - the secret lay in the brewing. Next time, he'd drink water; he was afraid to find out what passed for tea in this time and place.
"Around here, yes." Jack sounded amused.
"I suppose the quality of the company would make up for the quality of the food," Ianto said.
"Why, thank you." Jack grinned. "Although, really, the food's not so bad, if you know where to go, of course."
"Which you do," Ianto concluded.
"Which I do," Jack confirmed. "Two things that come with every war: bombs and black markets."
"And you're familiar with both." Something about those words bothered Ianto, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Possibly, he was simply hearing things, getting a bit jittery at the idea of an evening spent in Jack's company. The man certainly had a way about him - a pity he was a free-lancer, rather than a fellow Agent. Ianto rather thought, he wouldn't have minded getting to see more of Jack.
"In a sense. See that fire over there?" Jack pointed. "Last bomb they're going to drop tonight."
Two days before he'd left, Ianto had requested a list of all the bomb-sites. He'd gotten it the next day, complete with such useful notes as 'dog named Sally hit by debris' and 'three boxes of canned vegetables buried under rubble'. Unfortunately, he'd quickly discovered that what he should have asked for was a map - he'd filed a request, only to be told he should have done it the day before. As a result, he'd had no idea that bomb number whatever (seventeen? there'd been a total of eightteen on the list he'd gotten, so that would be about right) was going to fall straight onto his Dogon navigator.
'Missed shop, hit empty warehouse,' he bet the description had read. 'No victims,' making it sound so completely harmless he'd probably read right over it, perhaps even sighed in relief, glad that not all bombs had killed dogs named Sally and ordinary people who'd run out of luck.
"Ianto?"
"Sorry, just thinking," Ianto apologized. "Don't suppose there's any sense in standing around here."
"Not unless you want to try and see if you can salvage anything out of that." Jack gestured at the still smouldering warehouse. "I'd be glad to help - well, not glad, exactly," he amended, "but if you're going to take off your shirt, it might be worth sticking around for."
Ianto turned to face the bomb-site, telling himself it was the heat of the fire that made his face grow a little warm. "No need. It's all gone." And here he was, complaining and moping about while Jack was making an attempt to cheer him up with an invitation to dinner - a rather expensive dinner, Ianto didn't doubt, for all that Jack seemed so casual about it. "Dinner sounds great." He should say something about his shirt, really, but nothing witty immediately came to mind.
"All right then, follow me, and I'll show you how to have a good time in the middle of a war."
Author: misura
Pairing: Ianto Jones, Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Fandom(s): Doctor Who, Torchwood
For: wicciangirl
Elements: Jack/Ianto, Time Agent Ianto, romance
Thanks: to the usual suspects
Warnings: This ficlet will completely fail to make any sense at all, unless you've seen 'The Empty Child'. Time Agent!Ianto meets pre-Torchwood!Jack AU.
Summary: London during the Blitz was not Ianto's idea of a good place for a romantic dinner-date.
They arrived just in time to see the explosion that destroyed an empty warehouse, a stretch of road that was (if anything) likely to have been improved by the experience, and a Dogon explorer - meaning that somewhere, it was raining Dogon eyes right now, and if Ianto was unlucky, he'd be the one who'd receive the assignment to go and collect them. It was, in other words, not a good day.
"Damn. Don't you just hate it when that happens?"
For someone who'd seen half a small fortune literally go up in smoke mere seconds ago (Ianto's ears were still ringing, in fact - he'd have to remember to wear some sort of earplugs next time he'd come here) Captain Jack Harkness (rank definitely fake, name possibly) sounded remarkably cheerful. For a brief moment, Ianto toyed with the idea of taking advantage of that apparent good mood, suggesting that since the Time Agency wasn't going to get its prize, perhaps Jack might return (a part of) the down payment - a mere goodwill gesture, of course; no pressure and definitely no hinting at the possibility that if Jack were to refuse, he might find the Time Agency far less generous next time he had something to sell. The moment didn't seem quite right though; perhaps he'd mention it later, if there was any later. London during the Blitz didn't quite meet Ianto's idea of a nice place to hang around.
"You sound like this sort of thing has happened to you more often," Ianto noted, considering what he ought to do next. Sift through the debris and hope nobody'd question his presence? The warehouse was supposed to have been empty, but given that there was a war going on, Ianto wouldn't be willing to bet on that. Might have been all kinds of junk in there. Without something a lot more sophisticated than what he was carrying right now, he'd likely mistake a can of sardines for a Salzar flashlight - not that either would be of much use to the Time Agency, although Ianto supposed Hartman might be interested in a discovery of Salzar tech on a Dogon vessel.
Jack chuckled. "Actually, I was talking more in general - you know, about life, the universe and everything?" It took Ianto a moment to catch the reference (he'd spent three days making sure he knew which authors might be quoted and referred to - Shakespeare, Marlowe, Austen - and which were yet to come - Adams, Gaiman, Pratchett - and now here he was, having barely exchanged half a dozen words with anyone local; it was almost enough to make a man believe in bad luck).
"I mean," Jack continued, apparently having decided the Adams-reference had been lost on Ianto, "here we are. It's not raining, there's a beautiful moon and we've got a whole night ahead of us."
"There's also a war going on," Ianto felt obliged to point out. A 'whole night ahead'? Well, for Jack, perhaps; Ianto had every intention of leaving as soon as possible.
Jack shrugged. "There's always a war going on somewhere. Nothing new about that. And besides, they're going to lose this one."
"I know that." Ianto didn't quite see why that would matter to him though; in the long run, what difference had the outcome of this war really made? Millions of people dead, and in the end, what had the victors had to show for it? The satisfaction of knowing they'd won?
"Yeah, well, so what would you say if I invited you to dinner? My treat," Jack added. Ianto wondered if he'd imagined the slightly uncomfortable expression on Jack's face at Ianto's less-than-enthusiastic response to his assurance that this would be yet another war the Germans were going to lose.
"Here?" Ianto couldn't keep from sounding dubious. He'd made the mistake of stealing some coffee earlier, having run out of the good stuff he'd brought himself and telling himself that when it came down to it, coffee was coffee - the secret lay in the brewing. Next time, he'd drink water; he was afraid to find out what passed for tea in this time and place.
"Around here, yes." Jack sounded amused.
"I suppose the quality of the company would make up for the quality of the food," Ianto said.
"Why, thank you." Jack grinned. "Although, really, the food's not so bad, if you know where to go, of course."
"Which you do," Ianto concluded.
"Which I do," Jack confirmed. "Two things that come with every war: bombs and black markets."
"And you're familiar with both." Something about those words bothered Ianto, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Possibly, he was simply hearing things, getting a bit jittery at the idea of an evening spent in Jack's company. The man certainly had a way about him - a pity he was a free-lancer, rather than a fellow Agent. Ianto rather thought, he wouldn't have minded getting to see more of Jack.
"In a sense. See that fire over there?" Jack pointed. "Last bomb they're going to drop tonight."
Two days before he'd left, Ianto had requested a list of all the bomb-sites. He'd gotten it the next day, complete with such useful notes as 'dog named Sally hit by debris' and 'three boxes of canned vegetables buried under rubble'. Unfortunately, he'd quickly discovered that what he should have asked for was a map - he'd filed a request, only to be told he should have done it the day before. As a result, he'd had no idea that bomb number whatever (seventeen? there'd been a total of eightteen on the list he'd gotten, so that would be about right) was going to fall straight onto his Dogon navigator.
'Missed shop, hit empty warehouse,' he bet the description had read. 'No victims,' making it sound so completely harmless he'd probably read right over it, perhaps even sighed in relief, glad that not all bombs had killed dogs named Sally and ordinary people who'd run out of luck.
"Ianto?"
"Sorry, just thinking," Ianto apologized. "Don't suppose there's any sense in standing around here."
"Not unless you want to try and see if you can salvage anything out of that." Jack gestured at the still smouldering warehouse. "I'd be glad to help - well, not glad, exactly," he amended, "but if you're going to take off your shirt, it might be worth sticking around for."
Ianto turned to face the bomb-site, telling himself it was the heat of the fire that made his face grow a little warm. "No need. It's all gone." And here he was, complaining and moping about while Jack was making an attempt to cheer him up with an invitation to dinner - a rather expensive dinner, Ianto didn't doubt, for all that Jack seemed so casual about it. "Dinner sounds great." He should say something about his shirt, really, but nothing witty immediately came to mind.
"All right then, follow me, and I'll show you how to have a good time in the middle of a war."