FIC: The Approval Rating - TW_lucky_7 Submission
We've had snow! Lots of snow, to the point where school was closed! Considering that I live very close to the coast at the bottom of a large hill, getting snowed into our little hamlet was something of a minor achievement. That said, we also ran out of gas on Wednesday afternoon, which was not so fun as it meant we had no heating. Bloody freezing. Thankfully, the gas man turned up this morning, so we now do have heating and I can actually feel my fingers as I type, which is also a start.
But that is not the intention of this post. Ooh, no. I signed up for the Seven Deadly Sins challenge on tw_lucky_7 in a moment of madness, and I have my first offering for it. This week's sin was 'Pride', and while I've taken it in a different direction I wanted to explore teenage Ianto a little, so here we go. Teenage Ianto is obviously a very different beast to the Ianto we meet in Torchwood because by then he's probably had a good dose of PTSD as well as being configured by One, but I think I've still managed to keep him IC - feedback loved and appreciated!
Title: The Approval Rating
Author: Ginger, yours truly
Sin: Pride
Rating: G
Character: Ianto Jones
Summary: "Buck your ideas up then, boy... and make me a cup of tea." Ianto would have liked his father to be proud of him.
A/N: Ianto is actually the pet form of Ifan and this fic uses it as such. Sorry if it's mildly confusing.
"'Ianto is a gifted mathematician but does not fulfil his potential because he does not push himself far enough in lessons. Should he decide to show more interest in the subject, he is more than capable of achieving an A grade' - for god's sake, Ifan!" Ianto's father whacked the school report down on the kitchen table - Ianto jumped. "Are you listening?"
"Yes, Dad," he said wearily.
"And this one - physics - 'while Ianto has achieved his target grade in each test, he would get an even more comfortable A grade and possibly an A star if he could take his nose out of a book' - do you even care about your future, Ifan?"
"Yes, Dad."
"Do you want to end up on that council estate like your sister?"
"No, Dad."
"Well, buck your ideas up then, boy. Work harder so you don't screw up your life like your sister did. And make me a cup of tea."
"Yes, Dad," Ianto muttered (like you did rang around his head bitterly), but dutifully got up to put the kettle on.
When Ianto received his GCSE results, four A stars, five As and a B, his father fixated on his 'failure' in RE, of all the things, and would not let it drop. In return, Ianto decided not to disclose that he had blatantly lied when he told his father he would be taking maths and sciences for his A-Levels, as he had wanted him to. Instead, he'd picked three of the subjects he'd gone on to get A stars in: French, Welsh and History. Subjects he put effort into, and enjoyed, rather than succumbing to a hellish future of equations.
Things could have been worse, he supposed. Ianto sat through the consequent half an hour rant (which could be summed up as ‘you’re a waste of space who will end up on a council estate’ - why did he continually use Rhiannon as a mark of failure? She and Johnny had nowhere else to go after he chucked her out of the house) in silence, fists clenched at his sides, and disappeared upstairs as soon as it was over.
*
"School report," Ianto said tentatively, stepping into the kitchen. He placed an envelope next to his father. "It's a good one."
His father took the envelope from the table and did not open it before he screwed it up and threw it into the bin. "Make me a cup of tea, Ifan," he said. Ianto didn't scream, as he'd have liked to, didn't even roll his eyes. Instead, in a moment of extreme self control, he ducked his head and did as he was told.
*
Typically enough, Ianto wasn't the one who opened the letter which gave him his university offer. He got home from school to find Rhiannon was already there, with little David, holding it in her hand. Everyone seemed to open up his post for him; he had no idea why. "Look what came through the letterbox," she said, thrusting the piece of paper at him. He scan read the top page - an acceptance, a place if he gets the grades ABB in his exams, lower than their standard one - and looked up, jubilant, only to have to cast his face back into studied blankness. Her tone became concerned. "London?"
"London," he replied, unrepentant. "The government only make you pay back a tuitions fee loan once you're earning fifteen thousand a year. King's College are really good for my course, I qualify for bursaries and a maintenance grant and I've got a few thousand in my bank account from working. I'll be fine."
"But... why? Don't get me wrong, it's good - I think. But why not Cardiff? Somewhere local?” She paused, gathering her next words. “Dad is going to murder you if you just go off, Ianto. You’ve never even mentioned this before."
They sat down together on the couch in their tiny living room, David playing on the rug with a set of slightly battered building blocks. Ianto watched him for a while, holding the letter in his hands and smoothing it, making sure it didn't get crumpled. He took a deep breath, trying to decide what he was going to tell her; how to stop this from tumbling into another argument, another accusation. "I didn't want to say anything in case I got rejected. He does nothing but tell me I'm a failure, Rhi, and I'm not. Don’t think I am, anyway. I didn't do what he wanted and I don't live up to his expectations, god knows he says so often enough, but I want a degree and I'll get it. Maybe then he might not think I'm a waste of space then."
I'd like him to be proud of me didn’t quite come out, but Rhiannon seemed to understand, as she took his hand in hers, thinking quietly. “Well, then, you’d better tell me about this course of yours. What will you be doing?”
Ianto grinned, and ran upstairs for his prospectus.
*
After dinner that evening, Ianto decided he had better bring the subject up. His father sat at the table, slouched in his seat, watching him as he washed the dishes. "I got a letter through the post today," he began carefully, not turning around.
"If you've been expelled from school - "
"No! No, nothing like that." Ianto paused, wondering what on earth had brought that one on, and mustered the dregs of his confidence. "I've been offered a place at King's College London, to do a degree in French, Dad. They only want me to get ABB grades in my A-Levels."
He turned away from the sink and reached for a dishcloth, watching his father for some kind of reaction. Silent minutes ticked by, punctuated only by the clink of crockery on the draining board as he picked things up to dry them.
"You'd better start working harder, then," his father said. "No doubt you're still shirking.” A moment of silence. “Make me a cup of tea, Ianto."
Ianto nodded a little, silent, and clicked the kettle on. He turned, to hide the beginnings of a smile. For now, it would do.
But that is not the intention of this post. Ooh, no. I signed up for the Seven Deadly Sins challenge on tw_lucky_7 in a moment of madness, and I have my first offering for it. This week's sin was 'Pride', and while I've taken it in a different direction I wanted to explore teenage Ianto a little, so here we go. Teenage Ianto is obviously a very different beast to the Ianto we meet in Torchwood because by then he's probably had a good dose of PTSD as well as being configured by One, but I think I've still managed to keep him IC - feedback loved and appreciated!
Title: The Approval Rating
Author: Ginger, yours truly
Sin: Pride
Rating: G
Character: Ianto Jones
Summary: "Buck your ideas up then, boy... and make me a cup of tea." Ianto would have liked his father to be proud of him.
A/N: Ianto is actually the pet form of Ifan and this fic uses it as such. Sorry if it's mildly confusing.
"'Ianto is a gifted mathematician but does not fulfil his potential because he does not push himself far enough in lessons. Should he decide to show more interest in the subject, he is more than capable of achieving an A grade' - for god's sake, Ifan!" Ianto's father whacked the school report down on the kitchen table - Ianto jumped. "Are you listening?"
"Yes, Dad," he said wearily.
"And this one - physics - 'while Ianto has achieved his target grade in each test, he would get an even more comfortable A grade and possibly an A star if he could take his nose out of a book' - do you even care about your future, Ifan?"
"Yes, Dad."
"Do you want to end up on that council estate like your sister?"
"No, Dad."
"Well, buck your ideas up then, boy. Work harder so you don't screw up your life like your sister did. And make me a cup of tea."
"Yes, Dad," Ianto muttered (like you did rang around his head bitterly), but dutifully got up to put the kettle on.
When Ianto received his GCSE results, four A stars, five As and a B, his father fixated on his 'failure' in RE, of all the things, and would not let it drop. In return, Ianto decided not to disclose that he had blatantly lied when he told his father he would be taking maths and sciences for his A-Levels, as he had wanted him to. Instead, he'd picked three of the subjects he'd gone on to get A stars in: French, Welsh and History. Subjects he put effort into, and enjoyed, rather than succumbing to a hellish future of equations.
Things could have been worse, he supposed. Ianto sat through the consequent half an hour rant (which could be summed up as ‘you’re a waste of space who will end up on a council estate’ - why did he continually use Rhiannon as a mark of failure? She and Johnny had nowhere else to go after he chucked her out of the house) in silence, fists clenched at his sides, and disappeared upstairs as soon as it was over.
*
"School report," Ianto said tentatively, stepping into the kitchen. He placed an envelope next to his father. "It's a good one."
His father took the envelope from the table and did not open it before he screwed it up and threw it into the bin. "Make me a cup of tea, Ifan," he said. Ianto didn't scream, as he'd have liked to, didn't even roll his eyes. Instead, in a moment of extreme self control, he ducked his head and did as he was told.
*
Typically enough, Ianto wasn't the one who opened the letter which gave him his university offer. He got home from school to find Rhiannon was already there, with little David, holding it in her hand. Everyone seemed to open up his post for him; he had no idea why. "Look what came through the letterbox," she said, thrusting the piece of paper at him. He scan read the top page - an acceptance, a place if he gets the grades ABB in his exams, lower than their standard one - and looked up, jubilant, only to have to cast his face back into studied blankness. Her tone became concerned. "London?"
"London," he replied, unrepentant. "The government only make you pay back a tuitions fee loan once you're earning fifteen thousand a year. King's College are really good for my course, I qualify for bursaries and a maintenance grant and I've got a few thousand in my bank account from working. I'll be fine."
"But... why? Don't get me wrong, it's good - I think. But why not Cardiff? Somewhere local?” She paused, gathering her next words. “Dad is going to murder you if you just go off, Ianto. You’ve never even mentioned this before."
They sat down together on the couch in their tiny living room, David playing on the rug with a set of slightly battered building blocks. Ianto watched him for a while, holding the letter in his hands and smoothing it, making sure it didn't get crumpled. He took a deep breath, trying to decide what he was going to tell her; how to stop this from tumbling into another argument, another accusation. "I didn't want to say anything in case I got rejected. He does nothing but tell me I'm a failure, Rhi, and I'm not. Don’t think I am, anyway. I didn't do what he wanted and I don't live up to his expectations, god knows he says so often enough, but I want a degree and I'll get it. Maybe then he might not think I'm a waste of space then."
I'd like him to be proud of me didn’t quite come out, but Rhiannon seemed to understand, as she took his hand in hers, thinking quietly. “Well, then, you’d better tell me about this course of yours. What will you be doing?”
Ianto grinned, and ran upstairs for his prospectus.
*
After dinner that evening, Ianto decided he had better bring the subject up. His father sat at the table, slouched in his seat, watching him as he washed the dishes. "I got a letter through the post today," he began carefully, not turning around.
"If you've been expelled from school - "
"No! No, nothing like that." Ianto paused, wondering what on earth had brought that one on, and mustered the dregs of his confidence. "I've been offered a place at King's College London, to do a degree in French, Dad. They only want me to get ABB grades in my A-Levels."
He turned away from the sink and reached for a dishcloth, watching his father for some kind of reaction. Silent minutes ticked by, punctuated only by the clink of crockery on the draining board as he picked things up to dry them.
"You'd better start working harder, then," his father said. "No doubt you're still shirking.” A moment of silence. “Make me a cup of tea, Ianto."
Ianto nodded a little, silent, and clicked the kettle on. He turned, to hide the beginnings of a smile. For now, it would do.