Backstory, part 2
It started with a pub fight.
Later, Ianto couldn't remember exactly what had been said. There had been a rugby match on the box, Wales against England, and at some point a burly ex-footballer type had made the inevitable comment about sheepfuckers, and Ianto had been too lager-sodden to keep his mouth shut, and then there had been a few back-and-forths that ended with a fist in his face.
Lisa, clever, beautiful Lisa, had been sitting right there next to him. He heard her intake of breath as his head snapped back, but he didn't look at her. He had no intention of stopping here, couldn't have even if he'd wanted to, and that meant he'd already lost her. He was always too rough for the polished, intelligent ones, and far too smart for the ones who knew how to have a good time. The best he could say for his string of relationships was that he had managed to get shagged a satisfactory number of times along the way.
The fight itself was just as much of a blur as the conversation that had preceded it. As fights went, it was nothing extraordinary. He managed to take down the main instigator and a couple of his buddies before another one, twenty stone easy, got an arm around his throat from behind. 'This won't end well,' Ianto thought, and then, just as he was congratulating himself on his ironic distance, the pressure was suddenly and inexplicably gone.
"All right, all right," the man babbled as Ianto turned to face him. He had both hands up by his shoulders, palms facing forward, and he looked about two seconds away from shitting himself. Lisa was standing inches behind him, most of her body hidden by his, her expression unreadable.
Ianto had no idea what was going on, but that didn't stop him from muttering "fucking tossers" before grabbing his bottle of beer and stalking out of the pub, unaccompanied by what he assumed was his now ex-girlfriend. He could hear her voice behind him, asking the names of the men on the floor. He didn't slow down.
At this point he was in no mood to return to his dingy Brixton flat, but visiting another pub was out. He couldn't afford their prices, not if he was going to get as pissed as he wanted to be. That was fine; he was nothing if not adaptable. Several blocks away, his last tenner bought him Tesco's cheapest bottle of vodka. He got as far as the bins at the back of the building before sinking to the ground and twisting off the cap.
This was where Lisa found him half an hour later. He squinted up at her, and she pointed at the CCTV camera across the alleyway. He nodded, unsurprised. "Knew you didn't work at a bank." He hadn't known she was an undercover copper, but it figured. She'd come to arrest him for assault, or pickpocketing, or shoplifting, or whatever else she'd observed him doing. He found he didn't particularly mind. Jail had food, at least.
"Did you?" she asked. Her face was just as blank as the last time he'd glimpsed it in the pub. Ianto didn't like looking at it, so he tipped his head back against the concrete wall and closed his eyes. "You never said anything."
"You're too fit to be a banker." It was true; her body was amazing, too amazing to belong to someone who sat at a desk for eight hours a day and never passed through the doors of a gym. He shrugged. "Didn't figure it was my business. Didn't know I was going to be yours."
She was silent for several long seconds, probably trying to decipher actual words from his slurred speech and thickened accent. He'd done well, until now, at imitating her polished presentation, but the truth would out, and alcohol did tend to help it on its way.
Lisa had always gone into the loo before undressing, he realized during the silence. She wore jackets everywhere, long ones. He'd thought nothing of it. He'd assumed the bulge at her hip, the few times his hands had brushed it, was a mobile phone holster.
When Lisa finally spoke, it was not what he had expected. "You took down three men. All of them bigger than you." She sounded... what was that? Impressed?
They had been bigger, he supposed. He hadn't noticed at the time. He still tended to think of himself as he had been in Cardiff, when he'd hated his life even more than he did now but at least had been provided with regular meals. London had let him waste away. He'd never before seen the resemblance between himself and his mother so clearly.
"Yeah."
Nothing more to say than that.
"Almost perfect scores on your A-levels," Lisa continued. Ianto opened his eyes, but she wasn't looking at him anymore. She was staring instead at some point above his head, frowning slightly, distracted by some thought he couldn't yet begin to comprehend.
"I never told you that," he started to say, but she paid him no attention.
"Marks were only slightly above average, of course, but never mind that. You're quick, and your maths skills are off the charts. You're observant, you know what questions not to ask, you don't give up easily, and with the proper training, your combat skills could be...."
She stopped, and the full intensity of her stare was suddenly focused on him. He stared back.
"You have Thursday off."
"Yeah," he said again.
She nodded briskly. "Good. Ring me then." Her gaze traveled down his body, not hungrily, as it always had before, but detached, critical. He was suddenly very aware of the vodka that had spilled down his chin and was soaking into his shirt. "And get a suit."
"I can't afford--"
"I don't care where or how you get it. Just make yourself presentable." Her tone was sharp, but her expression had softened, and she knelt down next to him as she spoke. "You're much more than this, Ianto. It's about time someone showed you how much more."
Later, Ianto couldn't remember exactly what had been said. There had been a rugby match on the box, Wales against England, and at some point a burly ex-footballer type had made the inevitable comment about sheepfuckers, and Ianto had been too lager-sodden to keep his mouth shut, and then there had been a few back-and-forths that ended with a fist in his face.
Lisa, clever, beautiful Lisa, had been sitting right there next to him. He heard her intake of breath as his head snapped back, but he didn't look at her. He had no intention of stopping here, couldn't have even if he'd wanted to, and that meant he'd already lost her. He was always too rough for the polished, intelligent ones, and far too smart for the ones who knew how to have a good time. The best he could say for his string of relationships was that he had managed to get shagged a satisfactory number of times along the way.
The fight itself was just as much of a blur as the conversation that had preceded it. As fights went, it was nothing extraordinary. He managed to take down the main instigator and a couple of his buddies before another one, twenty stone easy, got an arm around his throat from behind. 'This won't end well,' Ianto thought, and then, just as he was congratulating himself on his ironic distance, the pressure was suddenly and inexplicably gone.
"All right, all right," the man babbled as Ianto turned to face him. He had both hands up by his shoulders, palms facing forward, and he looked about two seconds away from shitting himself. Lisa was standing inches behind him, most of her body hidden by his, her expression unreadable.
Ianto had no idea what was going on, but that didn't stop him from muttering "fucking tossers" before grabbing his bottle of beer and stalking out of the pub, unaccompanied by what he assumed was his now ex-girlfriend. He could hear her voice behind him, asking the names of the men on the floor. He didn't slow down.
At this point he was in no mood to return to his dingy Brixton flat, but visiting another pub was out. He couldn't afford their prices, not if he was going to get as pissed as he wanted to be. That was fine; he was nothing if not adaptable. Several blocks away, his last tenner bought him Tesco's cheapest bottle of vodka. He got as far as the bins at the back of the building before sinking to the ground and twisting off the cap.
This was where Lisa found him half an hour later. He squinted up at her, and she pointed at the CCTV camera across the alleyway. He nodded, unsurprised. "Knew you didn't work at a bank." He hadn't known she was an undercover copper, but it figured. She'd come to arrest him for assault, or pickpocketing, or shoplifting, or whatever else she'd observed him doing. He found he didn't particularly mind. Jail had food, at least.
"Did you?" she asked. Her face was just as blank as the last time he'd glimpsed it in the pub. Ianto didn't like looking at it, so he tipped his head back against the concrete wall and closed his eyes. "You never said anything."
"You're too fit to be a banker." It was true; her body was amazing, too amazing to belong to someone who sat at a desk for eight hours a day and never passed through the doors of a gym. He shrugged. "Didn't figure it was my business. Didn't know I was going to be yours."
She was silent for several long seconds, probably trying to decipher actual words from his slurred speech and thickened accent. He'd done well, until now, at imitating her polished presentation, but the truth would out, and alcohol did tend to help it on its way.
Lisa had always gone into the loo before undressing, he realized during the silence. She wore jackets everywhere, long ones. He'd thought nothing of it. He'd assumed the bulge at her hip, the few times his hands had brushed it, was a mobile phone holster.
When Lisa finally spoke, it was not what he had expected. "You took down three men. All of them bigger than you." She sounded... what was that? Impressed?
They had been bigger, he supposed. He hadn't noticed at the time. He still tended to think of himself as he had been in Cardiff, when he'd hated his life even more than he did now but at least had been provided with regular meals. London had let him waste away. He'd never before seen the resemblance between himself and his mother so clearly.
"Yeah."
Nothing more to say than that.
"Almost perfect scores on your A-levels," Lisa continued. Ianto opened his eyes, but she wasn't looking at him anymore. She was staring instead at some point above his head, frowning slightly, distracted by some thought he couldn't yet begin to comprehend.
"I never told you that," he started to say, but she paid him no attention.
"Marks were only slightly above average, of course, but never mind that. You're quick, and your maths skills are off the charts. You're observant, you know what questions not to ask, you don't give up easily, and with the proper training, your combat skills could be...."
She stopped, and the full intensity of her stare was suddenly focused on him. He stared back.
"You have Thursday off."
"Yeah," he said again.
She nodded briskly. "Good. Ring me then." Her gaze traveled down his body, not hungrily, as it always had before, but detached, critical. He was suddenly very aware of the vodka that had spilled down his chin and was soaking into his shirt. "And get a suit."
"I can't afford--"
"I don't care where or how you get it. Just make yourself presentable." Her tone was sharp, but her expression had softened, and she knelt down next to him as she spoke. "You're much more than this, Ianto. It's about time someone showed you how much more."