The Compass 2/15: Argh
Disclaimer: It's in the first chapter, and it still applies.
Rating: I've upped it a little, on account of the descriptions of debauchery (nothing too bad, don't worry) and some minor swearing (which is in another language, but still counts). I know most thirteen-year-olds have heard worse...but whatever.
Spoilers: I've referenced 'Meat' a lot in this one, but mostly generalities.
Warning: This story is now cheese on crack. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter Two: Argh
The biggest question everyone faced was what now?
The compass had shown them what they wanted - their heart's desire. What they wanted most in the world, more than anything.
In two cases, this was the same person.
It certainly made for interesting dinner conversation. Or would have, if anyone had been up to discussing what the compass had shown them. After lunch, everyone had seemed content to remain in their own little worlds, and not discuss anything beyond the pleasantries of polite company.
Except Jack. He had been almost unbearably normal after lunch had ended. Grinning, and yammering about past boyfriends, and past girlfriends, and past gender-non-specific-friends, segueing into questions about rift activity and theories about why the rift was so quiet lately. There'd scarcely even been a Weevil attack.
But he never once mentioned the compass. He'd pull it out of his pocket from time to time, when everyone was looking and make a show of checking it. But then he'd close it with a smart click, put it back in his pocket and then act as though nothing was amiss.
He didn't even give it back to Gwen for further study or experimentation.
All of this was making Gwen a little irritable. Thankfully, she'd been able to go home early.
When Gwen had gotten home, after her incredibly tense day, she found Rhys waiting for her with her evening cup of tea and a quick kiss.
“You in tonight?” she asked her fiancé, after taking a sip of her tea.
“Nah,” Rhys answered. “Daf and I are hittin' the pubs for a pint. Match tonight,” he added by way of explanation.
Gwen smiled warmly. Rhys and Daf were so close they were practically brothers. In fact, Rhys had asked Daf to be his best man at the upcoming wedding, something that had not surprised Gwen at all.
Even so, for once Gwen was glad that she was home and Rhys was going out. She needed the time to think.
“How was work?” Rhys asked. “Catch any more int'restin' aliens?”
“No,” Gwen said. “Simple day.” Understatement of the century, that. She plastered a smile across her face.
“Good, good. When I get back tonight, you can tell me all about it.”
She nodded, hoping that he'd have forgotten to ask by the time he did get home. She knew they were past the whole him not knowing what she did thing, but she really didn't want to tell him about the compass that showed you the way to your heart's desire. Not when the memories of Jack's smug grin were so fresh in her mind.
This is stupid, she thought to herself. Clearly she loved Rhys. She wouldn't be living with him and wearing his ring if she didn't. And now that he knew about her job, she didn't have the 'I-can't-tell-my-boyfriend-about-all-the-scary-and-unusual-stuff-I've-seen' excuse that she'd used to run to Owen. She had nothing to justify the betrayal in her heart.
But...and yet...
Jack's face when he'd found her engagement ring. The jealous way he'd acted when Rhys had found out about Torchwood. The excitement his touch had triggered when he'd pushed her against the wall last. The thrill when he'd told her that he'd come back for her. And his eyes...
“Gwen?”
“Yeah?” she looked around, realizing that Rhys had been waving his hand in front of her face. She hoped she didn't look too guilty, thinking of another man the way she had.
“You sure you don't want me to stay in?” he asked.
“No, no,” she said, hoping she didn't look too desperate to get him out of the house. “You go. I've just had a long day, is all.”
“You're sure?”
“Yeah, yeah! Go. See your match, and say hi to Daf for me.”
“Will do.” He gave her a kiss and vanished out the front door.
Gwen sank down onto the couch, and put her head in her hands.
The downside to a compass that shows you the path to you your heart's desire is that it's not discerning. It doesn't tell you distance you need to travel. It doesn't tell you want you need to do to get there. It doesn't tell you whether what you want and what you need are the same thing. It doesn't tell you that a nice normal life is what you wanted, rather than the wild, unpredictable roller-coaster that is life at Torchwood. It doesn't show you what you expect.
But really. How could an inanimate object be expected to tell the difference between the sweet, funny, normal, manager of a haulage firm and the dashing, handsome, sexually open, roguish, immortal, 51st century reformed conman?
It wasn't fair. Not to her, not to Rhys, or Jack or...Ianto.
She really should back off. She had Rhys. Ianto should get Jack. All to himself.
Why did that make her jealous?
God, she needed a drink.
Scribbling a quick note in case Rhys got home before her, she grabbed her coat and keys.
The staff of Torchwood - all five of them - had a pub. It wasn't a pub they had decided they were going to make their own; it was just one near the Hub that had become their own in the same way that all off duty cops will congregate in one area for a brew with the lads. It was their home away from home. Which, Gwen thought wryly, could either mean her apartment or the Hub.
Jack had been quick to point out, too, that it was frequented by some very attractive men. Himself among them. Gwen had smiled and wished him happy hunting.
The pub was called Cachu Iar. It was a decent pub in spite of its name, with a good relaxing atmosphere. She didn't bring Rhys here. He had his own haunts. And now that she could share her job with him, she found that she didn't want to share her pub. So she didn't.
She spotted Ianto within the first five minutes of her walking through the door and up to the bar. He was nursing what looked like a whiskey, and looking...not miserable, but definitely not happy, either. She was still debating whether or not she should go talk to him when he looked up and saw her. Thankfully, he returned her small smile, and indicated that she should take the stool next to him. She did.
“Are you alright, Ianto?” she asked when she'd ordered her own drink.
“Just...thinking,” he said. His words were only a little slurred. He couldn't have had that much.
“Me too.”
They sat in silence for a time.
“Jack made me lock Owen and Tosh in the closet,” Ianto said some time later.
Gwen stared at him. “He what?”
“After you left. He was tired of them not talking to each other. Said they should work it out.”
“Huh.”
“They'll be alright, right?” he asked.
“Yeah, should be. Jack's there, right?”
“Yeah.”
Gwen regretted mentioning Jack again. Now Ianto looked...wilted.
“Sorry,” she said.
Ianto laughed harshly, and gestured with his drink. “'S not right,” he said. “We shouldn't be...we shouldn't be fighting.”
Gwen frowned. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Not nearly enough,” Ianto said fervently.
“Enough to think we're fighting,” Gwen muttered. She contemplated taking his drink away, and then shrugged and downed her own. She ordered another.
Two and a half hours later, the pair of them were sitting in a hemispherical booth and were surrounded by a forest of empties. They were both so knackered that when Jack walked through the door, spotted them and came over their table, they didn't even notice. They were completely engrossed in a drinking game. It was slow going because they kept forgetting what they were supposed to be doing next.
“I don't think...I don't think...you're supposed to being doing the other one,” Gwen said, trying to concentrate. She was laughing too hard. “No, you're not getting the actions right. You have to drink. Drink!” She took a sip of her own drink for luck.
“The rum is gone,” Ianto muttered, staring morosely into the bottom of his cup as though more alcohol would magically appear. “Why is the rum always gone?”
Gwen handed him hers, and Ianto took a swig. He handed it back to her. Luckily for him, a waitress sailed by, leaving two more drinks on the table. Gwen and Ianto each grabbed one and toasted one another.
“Anything for you?” the waitress asked Jack.
Jack looked her up and down and grinned his wolfish grin. “Not right now, but I might find you later,” he said with a wink.
The waitress smiled and blushed and vanished into the crowd.
“You two seem to be having a lot of fun,” Jack said, sliding into the booth beside Gwen.
“Jack!” Ianto yelled. He tried to sit up right and ended up knocking over some of the empty bottles. This struck him as exceedingly hilarious and he burst into giggles.
“Come join us! We were just...” Gwen frowned, trying to remember what she'd been about to say.
“We were trying to decide who gets - mph!”
Jack frowned. Whatever Ianto had been about to say had been cut off by Gwen's hand on his mouth, shushing him. Jack was curious to find out what that was.
“We agreed not to say,” she said, drink and high spirits colouring her cheeks. Ianto's face had taken on the doubly ruddy complexion of one who is both embarrassed and completely sozzled.
Jack looked from one to the other.
“I think you two have had too much to drink.”
“Nah,” Gwen said with a wave of her hand that almost capsized another round of bottles. “I don't want to go home just yet. It's so...so boring.”
“You're in no state to drive anyway,” Jack said. “You either, Ianto. Come on. I'll settle your tab and take you back to the Hub for now.”
Gwen seemed about to protest again.
“It's closer,” Jack added gently. “Finish your drink and get your stuff.”
“Yes sir!” Ianto said, trying to snap off a salute. He hit himself in the eye instead. “Ow. Bloody hell!”
Jack laughed and shook his head. He left them to finish off their drinks as he went in search of the waitress.
By the time Jack pushed his way back through the crowd, Ianto and Gwen were standing only by leaning on one another. He had to smile. They were just so damned cute. Ianto even had his tie loose, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his top buttons undone. His suit jacket was draped, rumpled, over the arm he wasn't using to support Gwen. His blue eyes were alight with the dry wit he usually kept hidden while at work, his cheeks tinted rose by the alcohol.
Gwen's hair was, for once, tied back from her face. Her green eyes were bright with humor (and booze), and she was laughing at something Ianto had said before Jack had gotten back into hearing range.
Jack inserted himself between them, giving them something steady to lean on and wrapping his arms around them both.
“Now this is more like it,” he said, and gave them each a squeeze as he guided them out of the pub and into the cool, most air.
“'S'not fair,” Gwen said into his coat. “You're not even half drunk.”
“Just means I'll remember this in the morning,” Jack said happily.
“Oh, don't you dare,” Gwen said. “You're not to remember any of this. That's an order.”
“So you're giving me orders now?” Jack said archly. “We never did solve that power-struggle,” he added and watched Gwen turn an even more interesting shade of red, grinning at her discomfort.
Ianto seemed content to remain silent, though he'd leaned most of his weight onto his Captain. They continued in relative silence, the two drunkards doing their level best to put one foot in front of the other.
Gwen stopped a moment later, and Jack and Ianto paused in their steps. Ianto swayed a little.
“Hang on,” she said. “Phone's going off.”
She fiddled in her pocket until she was able to pull it out, and tried to focus on the screen.
“Does that say 'Rhys'?” she asked, showing it to Jack.
“Yes it does.”
“Right. Just a sec.” She hit the green button and put the phone to her ear. “Helo! Hwyl fawr am nawr!” She hit the red button and giggled to herself.
The phone rang again. She answered it. Jack could hear Rhys' half of the conversation through the speaker, the volume was up so high.
“Noswaith dda!” Gwen greeted him.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Dw i ddim yn deall.”
“What? You must have been drinking, you daft woman, if you're speaking Welsh. You on your way home?”
Before Gwen could say anything else, Ianto reached around Jack and pulled the phone out of Gwen's hand.
“Don't worry, Mr. Williams,” Ianto said in his best butler's voice, “we'll have your fiancée home in time for supper.”
Even Jack couldn't hold back the laughter on that one.
“Who's this?” Came Rhys' suspicious reply.
“Ianto Jones, Torchwood Teaboy,” Ianto replied over Gwen's giggles. Gwen snatched the phone back before Ianto could say anything else, Rhys squawking for clarification on the other end.
“Rhys?” she asked. “I'll be home...when I get there. No, I'm fine. Just had a few pints with Ianto. No really, I'm fine. I'll talk to you later. Love you too.” She hit the red button again, and put the phone back in her pocket.
“I can take you home,” Jack offered.
“In a bit,” she said. She was enjoying leaning up against Jack, inhaling the scent of him. Jack couldn't say that he wasn't enjoying it also. And, it was made all the better by Ianto doing much the same thing on the other side.
They continued on their way. They were halfway back to the Hub when Ianto started singing a Welsh marching song. Gwen picked it up, though she slurred half the words and forgot the rest. And Jack...
Jack stood in the middle of it all - quite literally - and grinned. And sang along.
He wondered if now was a good time to try out some of those uses he'd thought up for that compass.
In the morning, she woke up in a tangle of limbs. And since she was warm, she didn't much care that there seemed to be more limbs than Rhys had ever had, or that her own were wrapped around a mass far too big to be just one person. She was safe, and warm, and knew nothing could harm her here. She hadn't slept this well for a long, long time. She drifted in and out of consciousness and dreams.
But she couldn't stay in this warm cocoon of sleep forever. She had to get up. She had to go to work. She had to...
She opened her eyes.
And wished to all things holy that she hadn't. It would have prolonged the illusion that her head wasn't being hit with a twenty pound hammer, or that her mouth didn't feel like she'd been eating cotton, or that her stomach didn't feel like it was about to implode and then explode and then implode again, or that the room - tube? - wasn't actually swirling around her uncontrollably. But she had. And now she hurt.
She shifted, dislodging some of the weight off of her. Someone groaned to her left. She forced herself to focus. Ianto. Ianto?
“Ianto?”
“Bloody hell. Is that any way to greet someone in the morning? Especially after the night we've apparently had.” He lifted a hand which heretofore had been resting somewhere highly inappropriate and pressed it to his forehead. He opened his own eyes, and then opened them wider. “Gwen?”
“Oh god.”
“What the hell did I drink last night?”
“Rum,” said a familiar voice before Gwen could make a sarcastic reply about morning-after etiquette. “Mostly, anyway.”
Gwen turned to her right, but had to wait for the rest of her head to catch up with her.
“Jack?”
“Morning, Sunshine!”
A/N: So! Did you like? I did my best not to ruin your expectations... And a great big thank you to Pandora of Ithilien for the suggestion about the closet. I actually managed to construct the entire chapter around that, so...extra cookies for you!
Now, about the Welsh: I can't actually speak Welsh, though I really wish I could. I'm learning (very slowly) to...so if I use the wrong grammar, or the wrong phrase, or if something I use doesn't mean quite what I thought it meant, let me say that I'm terribly sorry to anyone who actually does speak the Language of Heaven, and that I would welcome any and all advice on how to fix it.
So...the Welsh I did use came from a handy sheet of common phrases (and one of swear words). To find it, look up Clwb Malu Cachu on Google. I'm not sure what 'malu' means, but if 'cachu' means what I think it means, then they've got a sense of humor. Anyway, according to them:
'Helo!' is 'Hello'
'Hwyl fawr am nawr' is 'goodbye for now'
'Noswaith dda' is 'good evening'
'Dw i ddim yn deall' is 'I don't understand'
You'll also find all manner of handy pronunciation guides, and grammar rules and things, language tools and suggestions for learning techniques, et cetera...so if you're interested in learning and haven't found the site already, I suggest checking it out. There. My free advertising for the day.
I've used the Welsh spelling of 'Daf' also, since I'm guessing his name's actually Dafydd...singular 'f's are pronounced as voiced fricatives...which are 'v's. And the fact that I know what a fricative is just goes to show you I spent waaaaay too much time at school. So 'Daf' is 'Dav'.
As for the name of the pub, Cachu Iar, I'm going to let you guys translate that one :)