Fic: For Rotas And Coffee
Title: For rotas and coffee.
Rating: Uuuuh. 15~ for swearing.
Characters: Mostly Ianto and Owen, but the others are there as well.
Genre: Complete and total humour.
Spoilers: None. As long as you know Jack's immortal, and that Ianto develops a personality, you're sorted.
Notes: This came about from a conversation I was having with
erode and it all just expanded from there.
After a while of everyone bitching and moaning and griping at each other, complete with fist fights and threatening to shoot each other, it's agreed it's gone too far. Then one Wednesday night, when they're all down the pub getting decidedly drunk, someone mentions shooting Jack, because he'll just bounce right back. And Jack, being fairly inebriated at this point, agrees with the idea. It's then that Ianto - who is also pretty hammered - begins drawing up a rota using a napkin and eyeliner that Tosh hands him.
The next morning, they're all hung-over but concur that last night was a good night out, and the atmosphere is much more relaxed. It's lunchtime before anyone else sees the new rota that has been posted on the boardroom wall. They're all gathered around it when Ianto brings in a tray of coffees. He can see them all staring with confused faces, eyes reading and re-reading the neatly formed lettering at the top of the page;
When am I permitted to shoot Captain J. Harkness?
(All unworldly activity permitting).
He grins as he sets the tray down, and by the time they've all turned to face him, he's back to professional-face.
"What the fuck is this, Ianto?" Owen asks first, the others all showing signs of having been about to ask exactly the same question, give or take the language.
"It's a rota, Owen." God, Owen, can't you read? he thinks to himself. He bites his tongue, trying to give the impression that this is all perfectly thought out and meticulously planned. Which of course it is.
"Well, we can see that," Jack continues. "But when the hell did I consent to this? I me-"
"Last night," Ianto answers, having seen where this conversation would go. And before Jack can argue, Ianto pulls something from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. It turns out it's the napkin from last night, slid neatly inside a plastic wallet - so very Ianto - to prevent damage.
"That's from the table last night," he clarifies as he hands it over. They read it through, finding what looks like a rough draft of the timetable that is now pinned to the wall. Jack looks up at Ianto, questioning in his eyes. Ianto then reaches forward and turns the napkin over, where they can all read "I, Captain Jack Harkness, the finest man in all the land, do here declare that my employees may use my immortality to relieve stress and anger."
It's all written in the same curled handwriting that belongs to Ianto, and at the bottom there's the scrawled signature of their beloved Captain. They read it in unison, the girls leaning on from the sides. Jack's left hand meets his face with a resonating 'slap', followed by a mumbled "oh, shit."
* * *
It's been one whole week, and the rota seems to be working out pretty well; everyone already seems calmer, there's much less shouting, and Jack's recovery time is improving by the day. Ianto's been supervising the rota, naturally; changing days depending on the day's workload and Owen's behaviour. It's all very organised and official.
But by the eleventh day, Ianto starts cheating. Jack has left dirty dishes all over the hub, almost as though it has been planned to annoy him on purpose. So Ianto takes his red biro, carefully crosses out Tosh's name, and replaces it with his own. On the thirteenth day, Jack scratches the car. No, wait. It's not a scratch; it's a dirty great bit gouge. Ianto angrily crosses out Gwen's name, almost carving his own above it.
Then it gets to a point where Ianto is so highly strung, that even if Jack breathes the wrong way - inadvertently causing a dust-bunny to crawl out from under his desk and wreak dusty havoc with the floor? There's Ianto, changing the rota.
It's on the Friday, the sixteenth day, when it finally gets to them. Ianto goes to the rota to change someone else's name for his, when he finds someone has got there before him; that week on the rota is hidden by a luminous yellow post-it note. Written on it, in Owen's chicken-scratch excuse for handwriting was "For fuck sake, tea-boy. Stop cheating and let someone else have a go!"
Ianto snatches it from the wall, and as he turns to go and find Owen, he finds him standing in the doorway. Owen's face is plastered with a huge grin, mischief sparkling in his eyes.
"You should let someone else have a go at shooting our dear Captain; can't keep him all to yourself all the time," he almost sing songs, the mischief making his eyes dance.
"Well how about I shoot you, instead?" Ianto growls through gritted teeth. It's not exactly what Owen is expecting, and he's a little scared because part of him knows that there's a chance of Ianto actually doing it.
"I guess you could, BUT THAT WOULD ACTUALLY KILL ME!" He flaps his arms in a way that makes him look incredibly stupid. And Ianto just stands there, face deadpanned, his eyes the only thing that give away his frustration.
"Oh, I know. But I'm a good shot; I won't hit anything vital. Oh, and if I do? Don't you dare bleed on anything important, or I'll make you clean it up." It just rolls off his tongue without thinking.
"JESUS IANTO, WHY DO YOU HATE ME?" Owen whines melodramatically, doing a convincing impression of a six year old child. Ianto just arches a perfectly formed eyebrow, with everyone else clearing their throats behind him. Then Owen stamps his feet, shouting "FINE, FUCK YOU ALL THEN." And he storms off into the autopsy room and starts flicking the contents of the jars across the floor, making an absolute mess and mumbling "fuck you, tea-boy. You can clean this shit up."
Only, this plan back-fires a little, as Ianto refuses to clean the autopsy room for two weeks straight, no matter how much it pains him. The lab is completely swamped, and Owen finally retreats to see Ianto and beg him to "clean it the fuck up NOW. Please," in his words.
Ianto merely stands there, drinking his tea in his perfectly pressed suit, and says "despite how much you act like one, you are not a child. If you make a mess, you clean it up. I am not your mother."
So he does, because he really is a grown up, damnit, and he can do things for himself. So, three hours of manual labour, several broken jars, and innumerable swear words later, it's looking almost tidy. It's then that Tosh decides to shuffle down the stairs, and just watches him for a few moments, struggling with reaching a scalpel that he threw behind one of the sets of drawers.
"Here to mock me, are you?" He says once he has it. He realised she was there some time ago, recognising the unmistakeable shuffle of her boots. He's sweaty and pissy and dirty, and not in the mood for pity.
"Actually, now I've finished my work, I was going to offer some help." She folds her arms in front of her chest and stares at him in a manner that shows she's far less than impressed. She turns to leave, because he's clearly not in a people mood, but he calls for her to stop.
"Actually," he begins clearly, but digresses into a mumble, "I could use a hand, thanks Tosh. But before you come down," his eyes go wider, and she knows that he's going to ask her for something. "Will you tell Ianto to make me a coffee, please?"
She opens her mouth to tell him not to go there, because Ianto has ears like a bat, and she knows that he's still angry with Owen. But before either of them knows it, it's too late, and Ianto sweeps into the room and down the stairs with a weird, creepy smile all over his face. A smile that would even make Jack back off. He's switched into scary, polite butler mode, all efficiency and false smiles.
"Of course I'll get you a coffee, Owen. Just wait a moment," and with that he's gone, disappearing as fast as he appeared. But within the blink of an eye he was back, steaming mug of coffee in hand that looks as pristine as Ianto himself. He hands it over and Owen takes it hesitantly. Ianto gives a slight nod of his head, and leaves for the final time, Tosh following him out.
'Probably gonna go and take his anger out on/with/in Jack' he thinks to himself, still staring at the coffee in his hands. He's giving it the once over, sniffing it to see whether it's laced with poison or a laxative.
But, unbeknownst to Owen, that's not Ianto's style, because Ianto's learned that fear is key. He doesn't actually need to do anything, simply have Owen think he has. And Owen really, really, really, really needs a fucking coffee, but he's shit scared. The coffee's put on the table, and he's circling it, glaring suspiciously.
The rest of the team are hanging around in Jack's office, watching him on the surveillance, with Jack doing a running commentary. It's like some kind of twisted animal behaviour documentary; they all love it. Owen's locked in a head to head battle over whether to drink it, Ianto's additive be damned. And he's losing pretty spectacularly.
Gwen's trying her best not to laugh, covering her mouth with both hands, but every now and then she lets out a terribly undignified snort. To begin with, Tosh scolds them; telling them how mean and unfair they were being, but it only takes until Owen's third lap of the mug for her to join in the spectatorship. Ianto's perched on the edge of Jack's desk, and has the world's smuggest look on his face, watching Owen still battling with the decision of whether the desperate need for coffee outweighs the likelihood of him dying, or locking himself in the bathroom for the next twelve hours.
In the end, he decides that it doesn't really matter, because it's still Ianto, and even if it is poisoned, it will still taste like heaven. With one final stare, he goes for it, draining half the cup, and nearly cries with joy. And even if he scalds his tongue, he's not going to admit it.
He then downs the last of the cup, and waits the obligatory forty-seven seconds for any kind of nasty to kick in, and when nothing happens, his eyes fix on the cctv camera in the corner and he mutters something under his breath like "fucking tea-boy," followed by a characteristically crude hand gesture.
Ianto, still sitting on Jack's desk, stands and says "my work here is done," and returns to ... whatever it was he bloody well wants, really. Jack then dismisses the others, telling them to get on with some actual work.
END.
Rating: Uuuuh. 15~ for swearing.
Characters: Mostly Ianto and Owen, but the others are there as well.
Genre: Complete and total humour.
Spoilers: None. As long as you know Jack's immortal, and that Ianto develops a personality, you're sorted.
Notes: This came about from a conversation I was having with
erode and it all just expanded from there.
After a while of everyone bitching and moaning and griping at each other, complete with fist fights and threatening to shoot each other, it's agreed it's gone too far. Then one Wednesday night, when they're all down the pub getting decidedly drunk, someone mentions shooting Jack, because he'll just bounce right back. And Jack, being fairly inebriated at this point, agrees with the idea. It's then that Ianto - who is also pretty hammered - begins drawing up a rota using a napkin and eyeliner that Tosh hands him.
The next morning, they're all hung-over but concur that last night was a good night out, and the atmosphere is much more relaxed. It's lunchtime before anyone else sees the new rota that has been posted on the boardroom wall. They're all gathered around it when Ianto brings in a tray of coffees. He can see them all staring with confused faces, eyes reading and re-reading the neatly formed lettering at the top of the page;
When am I permitted to shoot Captain J. Harkness?
(All unworldly activity permitting).
He grins as he sets the tray down, and by the time they've all turned to face him, he's back to professional-face.
"What the fuck is this, Ianto?" Owen asks first, the others all showing signs of having been about to ask exactly the same question, give or take the language.
"It's a rota, Owen." God, Owen, can't you read? he thinks to himself. He bites his tongue, trying to give the impression that this is all perfectly thought out and meticulously planned. Which of course it is.
"Well, we can see that," Jack continues. "But when the hell did I consent to this? I me-"
"Last night," Ianto answers, having seen where this conversation would go. And before Jack can argue, Ianto pulls something from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. It turns out it's the napkin from last night, slid neatly inside a plastic wallet - so very Ianto - to prevent damage.
"That's from the table last night," he clarifies as he hands it over. They read it through, finding what looks like a rough draft of the timetable that is now pinned to the wall. Jack looks up at Ianto, questioning in his eyes. Ianto then reaches forward and turns the napkin over, where they can all read "I, Captain Jack Harkness, the finest man in all the land, do here declare that my employees may use my immortality to relieve stress and anger."
It's all written in the same curled handwriting that belongs to Ianto, and at the bottom there's the scrawled signature of their beloved Captain. They read it in unison, the girls leaning on from the sides. Jack's left hand meets his face with a resonating 'slap', followed by a mumbled "oh, shit."
* * *
It's been one whole week, and the rota seems to be working out pretty well; everyone already seems calmer, there's much less shouting, and Jack's recovery time is improving by the day. Ianto's been supervising the rota, naturally; changing days depending on the day's workload and Owen's behaviour. It's all very organised and official.
But by the eleventh day, Ianto starts cheating. Jack has left dirty dishes all over the hub, almost as though it has been planned to annoy him on purpose. So Ianto takes his red biro, carefully crosses out Tosh's name, and replaces it with his own. On the thirteenth day, Jack scratches the car. No, wait. It's not a scratch; it's a dirty great bit gouge. Ianto angrily crosses out Gwen's name, almost carving his own above it.
Then it gets to a point where Ianto is so highly strung, that even if Jack breathes the wrong way - inadvertently causing a dust-bunny to crawl out from under his desk and wreak dusty havoc with the floor? There's Ianto, changing the rota.
It's on the Friday, the sixteenth day, when it finally gets to them. Ianto goes to the rota to change someone else's name for his, when he finds someone has got there before him; that week on the rota is hidden by a luminous yellow post-it note. Written on it, in Owen's chicken-scratch excuse for handwriting was "For fuck sake, tea-boy. Stop cheating and let someone else have a go!"
Ianto snatches it from the wall, and as he turns to go and find Owen, he finds him standing in the doorway. Owen's face is plastered with a huge grin, mischief sparkling in his eyes.
"You should let someone else have a go at shooting our dear Captain; can't keep him all to yourself all the time," he almost sing songs, the mischief making his eyes dance.
"Well how about I shoot you, instead?" Ianto growls through gritted teeth. It's not exactly what Owen is expecting, and he's a little scared because part of him knows that there's a chance of Ianto actually doing it.
"I guess you could, BUT THAT WOULD ACTUALLY KILL ME!" He flaps his arms in a way that makes him look incredibly stupid. And Ianto just stands there, face deadpanned, his eyes the only thing that give away his frustration.
"Oh, I know. But I'm a good shot; I won't hit anything vital. Oh, and if I do? Don't you dare bleed on anything important, or I'll make you clean it up." It just rolls off his tongue without thinking.
"JESUS IANTO, WHY DO YOU HATE ME?" Owen whines melodramatically, doing a convincing impression of a six year old child. Ianto just arches a perfectly formed eyebrow, with everyone else clearing their throats behind him. Then Owen stamps his feet, shouting "FINE, FUCK YOU ALL THEN." And he storms off into the autopsy room and starts flicking the contents of the jars across the floor, making an absolute mess and mumbling "fuck you, tea-boy. You can clean this shit up."
Only, this plan back-fires a little, as Ianto refuses to clean the autopsy room for two weeks straight, no matter how much it pains him. The lab is completely swamped, and Owen finally retreats to see Ianto and beg him to "clean it the fuck up NOW. Please," in his words.
Ianto merely stands there, drinking his tea in his perfectly pressed suit, and says "despite how much you act like one, you are not a child. If you make a mess, you clean it up. I am not your mother."
So he does, because he really is a grown up, damnit, and he can do things for himself. So, three hours of manual labour, several broken jars, and innumerable swear words later, it's looking almost tidy. It's then that Tosh decides to shuffle down the stairs, and just watches him for a few moments, struggling with reaching a scalpel that he threw behind one of the sets of drawers.
"Here to mock me, are you?" He says once he has it. He realised she was there some time ago, recognising the unmistakeable shuffle of her boots. He's sweaty and pissy and dirty, and not in the mood for pity.
"Actually, now I've finished my work, I was going to offer some help." She folds her arms in front of her chest and stares at him in a manner that shows she's far less than impressed. She turns to leave, because he's clearly not in a people mood, but he calls for her to stop.
"Actually," he begins clearly, but digresses into a mumble, "I could use a hand, thanks Tosh. But before you come down," his eyes go wider, and she knows that he's going to ask her for something. "Will you tell Ianto to make me a coffee, please?"
She opens her mouth to tell him not to go there, because Ianto has ears like a bat, and she knows that he's still angry with Owen. But before either of them knows it, it's too late, and Ianto sweeps into the room and down the stairs with a weird, creepy smile all over his face. A smile that would even make Jack back off. He's switched into scary, polite butler mode, all efficiency and false smiles.
"Of course I'll get you a coffee, Owen. Just wait a moment," and with that he's gone, disappearing as fast as he appeared. But within the blink of an eye he was back, steaming mug of coffee in hand that looks as pristine as Ianto himself. He hands it over and Owen takes it hesitantly. Ianto gives a slight nod of his head, and leaves for the final time, Tosh following him out.
'Probably gonna go and take his anger out on/with/in Jack' he thinks to himself, still staring at the coffee in his hands. He's giving it the once over, sniffing it to see whether it's laced with poison or a laxative.
But, unbeknownst to Owen, that's not Ianto's style, because Ianto's learned that fear is key. He doesn't actually need to do anything, simply have Owen think he has. And Owen really, really, really, really needs a fucking coffee, but he's shit scared. The coffee's put on the table, and he's circling it, glaring suspiciously.
The rest of the team are hanging around in Jack's office, watching him on the surveillance, with Jack doing a running commentary. It's like some kind of twisted animal behaviour documentary; they all love it. Owen's locked in a head to head battle over whether to drink it, Ianto's additive be damned. And he's losing pretty spectacularly.
Gwen's trying her best not to laugh, covering her mouth with both hands, but every now and then she lets out a terribly undignified snort. To begin with, Tosh scolds them; telling them how mean and unfair they were being, but it only takes until Owen's third lap of the mug for her to join in the spectatorship. Ianto's perched on the edge of Jack's desk, and has the world's smuggest look on his face, watching Owen still battling with the decision of whether the desperate need for coffee outweighs the likelihood of him dying, or locking himself in the bathroom for the next twelve hours.
In the end, he decides that it doesn't really matter, because it's still Ianto, and even if it is poisoned, it will still taste like heaven. With one final stare, he goes for it, draining half the cup, and nearly cries with joy. And even if he scalds his tongue, he's not going to admit it.
He then downs the last of the cup, and waits the obligatory forty-seven seconds for any kind of nasty to kick in, and when nothing happens, his eyes fix on the cctv camera in the corner and he mutters something under his breath like "fucking tea-boy," followed by a characteristically crude hand gesture.
Ianto, still sitting on Jack's desk, stands and says "my work here is done," and returns to ... whatever it was he bloody well wants, really. Jack then dismisses the others, telling them to get on with some actual work.
END.