Title: Indicating Extent (Flexible)
Characters: Ianto, team (Jack/Ianto)
Rating: standard/open
Word Count: 1130
Spoilers: none
many thanks to
misswinterhill for the beta
*originally written using the
writerinadrawer prompt:
4.04, however I totally blew the word limit and couldn’t cut it down. For a story where nothing actually happens, it really needed all those extra words!
~+~
It made sense. That’s what Ianto kept telling himself.
He reminded himself of that as he tripped over the bundle of cables running between Toshiko’s computer and makeshift devices. “My remote access to Mainframe is all set,” she said, the glow of her laptop throwing her features into ghostly green shadows.
He reminded himself of that as Gwen paced his lounge, phone glued to her ear. “Of course, sir, and Torchwood will be working on that as quickly as possible. In the meantime, we’ve got a few requests…”
And he bloody reminded himself of that as Owen rummaged through all of his cupboards, ate all of his cereal, complained about the quality of said cereal, and occupied his bathroom for over an hour. “Whoa, people. Do not go in there!”
“Bloody fuck, Owen!” Holding her nose between pinched fingers, Gwen’s face scrunched up as she hurried away. “I don’t even want to know what you were doing in there. It smells like rotted corpses.”
“Not quite, though it could. What the fuck am I doing here? It’s not like I can conduct autopsies in your flat, mate,” Owen said as Ianto passed him in the hall. “Jack had better fucking hurry up.”
Ianto reminded himself that out of all available, immediate options, it made the most sense.
Safely hidden away in his bedroom, he sagged onto the bed and flopped onto his back, feet flat on the floor. He stared up at the ceiling, noting the crack in the plaster, then gazed around the room. There were dirty socks littered about the floor; a towel was draped over the armchair in the corner; the wardrobe stood open, displaying a row of suits and several blue shirts slipping off their hangers, because Jack was sloppy when in a rush and it wasn’t Ianto’s job to clean up after him here.
Curiously, outside the Hub, Ianto found that he didn’t really have much to do.
Vaguely, he could hear Gwen and Owen arguing - probably in the kitchen, from the sound of it; if they were in Toshiko’s space set up in the lounge, he’d have heard her voice, annoyed but quieter, joining in. It wasn’t that Ianto minded having people crawling all over his flat… exactly. He didn’t care that Gwen went poking through his DVDs while she was on hold, or that Tosh had already borrowed a whole stack of books, or that Owen… well, no, everything Owen did was irritating.
It wasn't as though Ianto spent all that much time here, either. Just… when he did, he was alone. Usually. And in the Hub, there were dozens upon dozens of nooks and crannies in which to find a bit of peace, isolated from the incessant sounds of human interaction.
Distantly, a door opened and slammed shut. A moment later, Jack slipped into the bedroom, grinning. “Whew. That pterodactyl can fly!”
“You found her, then?” Ianto asked, as Jack threw his coat over the armchair and himself onto the bed, rolling until they were face to face.
“She’s safely ensconced in the warehouse. Totally secure. That chocolate trick of yours does actually work.”
He gave Jack a smug grin - of course it worked. He’d have liked to go with Jack on the ‘must find Myfanwy before she eats someone’ mission, but, as much as he trusted his coworkers not to blow up his home… well, he hadn’t felt quite comfortable enough to just leave them there without some type of supervision.
Jack was idly running his fingers over Ianto’s side. He watched Jack out of the corner of his eye, then looked away. “What about the other…” he grasped for the best way to phrase it, but Jack just shook his head in one tiny movement, eyes downcast.
“The bio-chemical agent… it might not make it all the way down to the lower levels, but…” Jack sighed. “The decontamination process will wipe out any biological entities within the Hub.”
“Right.” Ianto mentally catalogued all occupants of the cells - the number of corpses he’d have to dispose of once the Hub was operational again. That was going to be fun.
Jack scooted closer, resting his head on Ianto’s shoulder. “This is only temporary. Another day at most, and we’ll have all the equipment set up at the warehouse for the duration.”
“I know.” And he did, but clearly Jack could see that he was bothered. A hand smoothed up over his stomach and slipped inside his jacket. Wearing a suit, all buttoned up and formal, at home felt wrong, but… well, this was work now. Ianto turned his head and found Jack’s mouth with his, felt Jack’s tongue with his, and raised a hand to Jack’s shoulder to drag him closer. The heat from Jack’s body seeped into his as they sank together into the mattress. Jack shifted one knee between Ianto’s legs and he couldn’t help but push his hips upward to rub against him.
The door banged open and Toshiko was already calling out, “Rift aler- Oh! Sorry!”
Ianto felt his cheeks burning bright red as Jack rolled away from him and sat up. “How big?” Jack asked. There was no switch from ‘personal’ to ‘business’ with Jack; it was all just… life.
“Not very.” Tosh sounded flustered and, when Ianto had composed himself enough to sit up and look, she was resolutely facing away from the bed. “You should really make the alarm on your rift monitor louder,” she said. “I barely heard it over Owen and Gwen bickering.”
“Oh, it goes louder,” Jack said, hopping up from the bed and grabbing his coat. “I keep it low for when Ianto’s sleeping.”
“Oh, of course,” Tosh said, blushing almost as hotly as Ianto felt. “That makes sense.”
Ianto glanced at her as Jack disappeared through the door, and she ducked her head, grinning. She looked so lovely sometimes, if only she’d realise that more often.
“We’d better hurry,” she said before following Jack down the hall.
Ianto stood, started for the door, but stopped in front of the wardrobe to check his suit in the mirror. He looked… well, he looked like he’d just been rolling about on a bed, making out with his boss in the middle of the day. His reflection smiled back at him. Life wasn’t all bad.
And finally, something to do. He hurried into the lounge/kitchen to join the others.
Owen turned at the door in the process of pulling his jacket on, and said, “Sorry about your toaster, mate. It was all Gwen’s fault.”
“Oi!” she protested, turning round to face them. “I didn’t touch it! I didn’t, Ianto,” she said in a much nicer, more pleading voice.
Ianto forced his mouth into a facsimile of a smile. “It’s fine.”
He reminded himself, just one more day.
~+~