Ratio | [Rated R]
Title: Ratio
Rating: R [I know, right?]
Characters: Suzie/Ianto
Warning: Suzie is one crazy bitch. This is nothing like what I normally write. Nothing. Note the rating. Take heed.
Thank you: curriejean for the beta, and the rating help, and not making fun of me.
Summary: The orders were to deposit her safely to her flat, and Ianto would carry them out to the letter, despite her ranting that it was unnecessary.
For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay
In keen and quivering ratio
To the ecstasy.
- Emily Dickinson
-----------------------------------
The orders were to deposit her safely to her flat, and Ianto would carry them out to the letter, despite her ranting that it was unnecessary. That she could take care of herself. That Jack could take his orders and shove them up his arse for all she cared.
“I’ll be taking you up, Miss Costello.” And he smiled patiently.
She mumbled in the lift as she searched through her purse for her keys, wincing when the movement of her arms pulled the bandage across her abdomen. He asked, “Are you-”
“I’m fine,” she snapped, shaking her keys free of a bundle of tissues. “Next he’ll have you sitting by my bed reading stories. It’s a flesh wound, not a bloody collapsed lung. Owen’s the one he should be more worried about, that useless bastard. He fell, do you know? Middle of a chase in the forest and he fell over a tree stump, hit his head on a fallen branch. And Toshiko lost her gun. The level of incompetence is a goddamn nightmare.” The lift pinged and slid open, depositing them on her floor. She stalked down the hall, Ianto trailing after her, always a few steps behind.
She gripped the key to her flat and turned it in the lock, then threw open the door without ceremony and entered. Ianto followed and closed the door behind him.
There was something rancid, somewhere, in the dark.
“I can’t believe he actually sent her home with him. Wasn’t that treatment for a concussion thrown out in the nineteen-fifties? Even Owen was complaining about it, although I doubt he did for long, always willing to have a bird around his flat.” She slammed her keys down on a counter. “I should fill it with pigeons.”
Ianto couldn’t see anything. He tried a light switch in the hall. It didn’t work.
She threw herself down on the couch (that he could see, in the moonlight through a drawn shade) and struggled out of her coat. His eyes began to adjust. And his stomach turned.
Cups and saucers lay in small colonies littering the floor. Take-away containers hummed with flies on every surface. Dirty laundry was piled in one corner, like a nest.
She watched him watch the room, and he looked back at her. A cruel smile tugged the corners of her mouth. “Why are you still here, then?”
“Seeing you safely home, Miss Costello.”
“Seems you’ve done that. I’m all safe and warm.” She shoved her coat into a bundle next to her on the couch. The smile continued, reaching her eyes, glinting ice and steel in the moonlight. “And yet here you are.”
“Is there anything you need?”
“Like what?” she asked. She leaned back against the couch cushions, one eyebrow raised.
He leaned over her to retrieve her coat, intending to hang it up. “Would you like me to help you to bed?”
He froze when her hand slid up his cheek. He met her eyes, shining with malice over her cold grin.
“That sounds,” she whispered, leaning forward, inches away from him, “like something you would say to Jack.” Her other hand rose, held his opposite cheek. Her thumb ran across his lips. He held his breath, eyes wide. “I hear you,” she said, and leaned even closer. He felt her breath brushing his mouth. “At night, when the others are gone. I hear you scream for him. In the dark. In his bed.” Her hand moved down to his neck; her fingernails traced over his skin, leaving thin white lines. “I can hear you gasping his name.” Her hand moved to follow the line of buttons down his shirt. “And I wonder,” she said. He took a breath as she cupped him through his trousers. “Could I ever make you come like that?”
He pushed away from her, stumbling backwards into the center of the room. And she laughed. High. Cruel. So full of hate and anger that his skin crawled at the sound of it. She stared at him, mouth open slightly, lips shining in the dull light.
“It’s a shame,” she said, pushing herself upright, coming slowly toward him. “Is he really the only one?” Ianto backed himself against a wall, eyes flickering from her to the hall, back to her. She set a hand against the wall between his ear and his shoulder and leaned close, holding herself just inches away from him. “I can imagine it.” She walked two fingers up his chest. “You taking Toshiko against the water tower, her legs wrapped around your waist.” Her fingers brushed his throat. “She’s so shy and quiet in the light, but in the thick of it-” she said, the word thick coming bright and obscene, all tongue and teeth and the crack of saliva, her thumb and forefinger tightening around his jaw, holding him steady, “I’ve never heard her louder.”
Ianto couldn’t get his breath to come any slower, couldn’t make his eyes any less wide and horrified, reflecting the minimal light. His hands opened and closed uselessly at his sides, nails scraping the wall, keeping him grounded, keeping him from the panic that crouched in the sidelines of his mind.
She laughed with more breath than sound. “And Owen. I can imagine that, too.” She pressed closer, no pretense of space between them anymore; she edged a thigh between Ianto’s legs and he made a sound both involuntary and mortifying. “In the autopsy bay. Against those tiled walls.” She craned her neck forward and ran her tongue along Ianto’s bottom lip, then pulled back and tilted her head, considering. “You’d look good with a cock in your mouth. That’s how Jack likes you.” The fierce smile curled her lips again. “You’d do anything to keep them from finding her, wouldn’t you?”
Ianto’s stomach dropped cold and useless to his feet. His ears sang in high falsetto. He met her eyes and felt like he was losing consciousness. “Who?”
Another laugh, ending in a wistful sigh. “Your tin soldier. Did you pluck her from the wreckage and take her home with you? Just a girl in the office you always wanted, and now that she can’t move you can have her, all yours in the basement of the Hub? Do you have a kink for metal?”
His face set fierce. “She’s my girlfriend.”
Suzie’s eyes went wide, amused. “Oh! Your girlfriend.” She pressed closer. “Well, I’m terribly sorry for presuming,” she whispered. She pressed her thigh higher and Ianto gasped. “I’m sure you love her very much. Enough to fuck your boss at night while she cries her big oily tears two levels down.”
“I keep her safe.”
The amused look again, the quirk of her lips. “You do,” she said, and sounded serious. “You’d do anything to keep her safe. To keep them from knowing about her. From going down there and unplugging her.” She ran her fingers down his chest, beneath his jacket, over the smooth white cotton of his shirt and pressed her hand low between their bodies. She breathed, “Wouldn’t you?”
His eyebrows flew up, mouth opening and closing uselessly, but he settled on something and spluttered, “It isn’t just the fish.” Her hand stilled. “I’ve seen you. With the knife, the one that came with the glove.” She looked at his face, her mouth forming a silent ‘o’ of surprise. He pushed on. “You kill them so you can bring them back.” He breathed hard, watching her stare at him. “I see more than you lot think I see. The fish are just to keep Jack off. You’ve moved on to humans.”
She stepped away.
He exhaled, drooping against the wall, eyes still on her, on her face as it went blank and cold.
“Looks like we’re at a standoff,” she said.
He drew himself upright and nodded. “Looks like.”
She cocked her head, looking at him. “Thank you for bringing me home, Ianto Jones. You can get the fuck out.” He did, doing everything in his power not to run, to keep his pace as casual as possible but give her a wide berth.
When his hand was on the doorknob, she called him, “Ianto.” He turned. She smiled again. “Just remember,” she said, folding her arms low at her waist, “that I can kill you at any point.” She canted her hips to the right. “And you’d only have thirty seconds back to tell Jack what a great shag he is.”
The door slammed.
(A/N: curriejean is pretty much to blame for this; The Treachery of Images is basically my head!canon now, and got me thinking about it. And her vid Meat was the driving force behind Suzie's character here.)
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Rating: R [I know, right?]
Characters: Suzie/Ianto
Warning: Suzie is one crazy bitch. This is nothing like what I normally write. Nothing. Note the rating. Take heed.
Thank you: curriejean for the beta, and the rating help, and not making fun of me.
Summary: The orders were to deposit her safely to her flat, and Ianto would carry them out to the letter, despite her ranting that it was unnecessary.
For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay
In keen and quivering ratio
To the ecstasy.
- Emily Dickinson
-----------------------------------
The orders were to deposit her safely to her flat, and Ianto would carry them out to the letter, despite her ranting that it was unnecessary. That she could take care of herself. That Jack could take his orders and shove them up his arse for all she cared.
“I’ll be taking you up, Miss Costello.” And he smiled patiently.
She mumbled in the lift as she searched through her purse for her keys, wincing when the movement of her arms pulled the bandage across her abdomen. He asked, “Are you-”
“I’m fine,” she snapped, shaking her keys free of a bundle of tissues. “Next he’ll have you sitting by my bed reading stories. It’s a flesh wound, not a bloody collapsed lung. Owen’s the one he should be more worried about, that useless bastard. He fell, do you know? Middle of a chase in the forest and he fell over a tree stump, hit his head on a fallen branch. And Toshiko lost her gun. The level of incompetence is a goddamn nightmare.” The lift pinged and slid open, depositing them on her floor. She stalked down the hall, Ianto trailing after her, always a few steps behind.
She gripped the key to her flat and turned it in the lock, then threw open the door without ceremony and entered. Ianto followed and closed the door behind him.
There was something rancid, somewhere, in the dark.
“I can’t believe he actually sent her home with him. Wasn’t that treatment for a concussion thrown out in the nineteen-fifties? Even Owen was complaining about it, although I doubt he did for long, always willing to have a bird around his flat.” She slammed her keys down on a counter. “I should fill it with pigeons.”
Ianto couldn’t see anything. He tried a light switch in the hall. It didn’t work.
She threw herself down on the couch (that he could see, in the moonlight through a drawn shade) and struggled out of her coat. His eyes began to adjust. And his stomach turned.
Cups and saucers lay in small colonies littering the floor. Take-away containers hummed with flies on every surface. Dirty laundry was piled in one corner, like a nest.
She watched him watch the room, and he looked back at her. A cruel smile tugged the corners of her mouth. “Why are you still here, then?”
“Seeing you safely home, Miss Costello.”
“Seems you’ve done that. I’m all safe and warm.” She shoved her coat into a bundle next to her on the couch. The smile continued, reaching her eyes, glinting ice and steel in the moonlight. “And yet here you are.”
“Is there anything you need?”
“Like what?” she asked. She leaned back against the couch cushions, one eyebrow raised.
He leaned over her to retrieve her coat, intending to hang it up. “Would you like me to help you to bed?”
He froze when her hand slid up his cheek. He met her eyes, shining with malice over her cold grin.
“That sounds,” she whispered, leaning forward, inches away from him, “like something you would say to Jack.” Her other hand rose, held his opposite cheek. Her thumb ran across his lips. He held his breath, eyes wide. “I hear you,” she said, and leaned even closer. He felt her breath brushing his mouth. “At night, when the others are gone. I hear you scream for him. In the dark. In his bed.” Her hand moved down to his neck; her fingernails traced over his skin, leaving thin white lines. “I can hear you gasping his name.” Her hand moved to follow the line of buttons down his shirt. “And I wonder,” she said. He took a breath as she cupped him through his trousers. “Could I ever make you come like that?”
He pushed away from her, stumbling backwards into the center of the room. And she laughed. High. Cruel. So full of hate and anger that his skin crawled at the sound of it. She stared at him, mouth open slightly, lips shining in the dull light.
“It’s a shame,” she said, pushing herself upright, coming slowly toward him. “Is he really the only one?” Ianto backed himself against a wall, eyes flickering from her to the hall, back to her. She set a hand against the wall between his ear and his shoulder and leaned close, holding herself just inches away from him. “I can imagine it.” She walked two fingers up his chest. “You taking Toshiko against the water tower, her legs wrapped around your waist.” Her fingers brushed his throat. “She’s so shy and quiet in the light, but in the thick of it-” she said, the word thick coming bright and obscene, all tongue and teeth and the crack of saliva, her thumb and forefinger tightening around his jaw, holding him steady, “I’ve never heard her louder.”
Ianto couldn’t get his breath to come any slower, couldn’t make his eyes any less wide and horrified, reflecting the minimal light. His hands opened and closed uselessly at his sides, nails scraping the wall, keeping him grounded, keeping him from the panic that crouched in the sidelines of his mind.
She laughed with more breath than sound. “And Owen. I can imagine that, too.” She pressed closer, no pretense of space between them anymore; she edged a thigh between Ianto’s legs and he made a sound both involuntary and mortifying. “In the autopsy bay. Against those tiled walls.” She craned her neck forward and ran her tongue along Ianto’s bottom lip, then pulled back and tilted her head, considering. “You’d look good with a cock in your mouth. That’s how Jack likes you.” The fierce smile curled her lips again. “You’d do anything to keep them from finding her, wouldn’t you?”
Ianto’s stomach dropped cold and useless to his feet. His ears sang in high falsetto. He met her eyes and felt like he was losing consciousness. “Who?”
Another laugh, ending in a wistful sigh. “Your tin soldier. Did you pluck her from the wreckage and take her home with you? Just a girl in the office you always wanted, and now that she can’t move you can have her, all yours in the basement of the Hub? Do you have a kink for metal?”
His face set fierce. “She’s my girlfriend.”
Suzie’s eyes went wide, amused. “Oh! Your girlfriend.” She pressed closer. “Well, I’m terribly sorry for presuming,” she whispered. She pressed her thigh higher and Ianto gasped. “I’m sure you love her very much. Enough to fuck your boss at night while she cries her big oily tears two levels down.”
“I keep her safe.”
The amused look again, the quirk of her lips. “You do,” she said, and sounded serious. “You’d do anything to keep her safe. To keep them from knowing about her. From going down there and unplugging her.” She ran her fingers down his chest, beneath his jacket, over the smooth white cotton of his shirt and pressed her hand low between their bodies. She breathed, “Wouldn’t you?”
His eyebrows flew up, mouth opening and closing uselessly, but he settled on something and spluttered, “It isn’t just the fish.” Her hand stilled. “I’ve seen you. With the knife, the one that came with the glove.” She looked at his face, her mouth forming a silent ‘o’ of surprise. He pushed on. “You kill them so you can bring them back.” He breathed hard, watching her stare at him. “I see more than you lot think I see. The fish are just to keep Jack off. You’ve moved on to humans.”
She stepped away.
He exhaled, drooping against the wall, eyes still on her, on her face as it went blank and cold.
“Looks like we’re at a standoff,” she said.
He drew himself upright and nodded. “Looks like.”
She cocked her head, looking at him. “Thank you for bringing me home, Ianto Jones. You can get the fuck out.” He did, doing everything in his power not to run, to keep his pace as casual as possible but give her a wide berth.
When his hand was on the doorknob, she called him, “Ianto.” He turned. She smiled again. “Just remember,” she said, folding her arms low at her waist, “that I can kill you at any point.” She canted her hips to the right. “And you’d only have thirty seconds back to tell Jack what a great shag he is.”
The door slammed.
(A/N: curriejean is pretty much to blame for this; The Treachery of Images is basically my head!canon now, and got me thinking about it. And her vid Meat was the driving force behind Suzie's character here.)
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