(no subject)
In his youth, Ianto Jones excelled at very few things. He could have, maybe, but that was not how things had been and therefore hardly the point. The fact remained that he had little to show for his years before becoming a part of Torchwood, where any successes (or, thankfully, failures) were swallowed up into the whole. He never summarily failed though, and that was something of which to be proud, even if only somewhat. That wasn't how his father wanted it, of course. His father wanted bigger things, better things out of him. Demanded more. And as a point of honor, Ianto refused to give it to him.
Bloody hypocrite he was, anyway.
Things had changed since then and Ianto couldn't help a twinge of disappointment in feeling his father might be proud of him now. He did something important, something world-changing -- something he wouldn't be allowed to talk about back home, but he still did it. He was married -- to an American country girl, but there was no shame in that and frankly his father would have taken that as blessed confirmation that his only son wasn't a bender. And the island had little to nothing in the way of an economy, but Ianto was still a business owner, proprietor of the first Island pub.
It was there, in the Hub, that Ianto's thoughts had taken such a paternal turn, specifically when he had walked in during the early evening to open up shop and saw a peculiar item on the counter. It wasn't anything special, not in the least bit. Just a belt. Brown. Leather. Nice, a bit swank but simple. It was the sort of belt his father sold. It was the sort of belt Ianto had stolen, many years ago, in an effort to show his father a metaphorical finger.
He'd thought he was well clever back then. Stealing from under the old man's nose. What could be better?
Anything, really. It was well pathetic was what it was.
Ianto didn't touch it at first, just got the lights turned on and something cheerful but innocuous humming through the karaoke machine's speakers. He unlocked cabinets and overturned chairs, but finally the time came to wipe down the counter and he had to touch it.
Such a stupid move. What had he been trying to prove? Silently, leaning forward against the bar, Ianto picked up the belt and doubled the leather over. Both hands on either end, he pulled it taut suddenly and snapped the belt, the leather making a sharp, resonant sound in the empty bar.
Ah yes. That.
Bloody hypocrite he was, anyway.
Things had changed since then and Ianto couldn't help a twinge of disappointment in feeling his father might be proud of him now. He did something important, something world-changing -- something he wouldn't be allowed to talk about back home, but he still did it. He was married -- to an American country girl, but there was no shame in that and frankly his father would have taken that as blessed confirmation that his only son wasn't a bender. And the island had little to nothing in the way of an economy, but Ianto was still a business owner, proprietor of the first Island pub.
It was there, in the Hub, that Ianto's thoughts had taken such a paternal turn, specifically when he had walked in during the early evening to open up shop and saw a peculiar item on the counter. It wasn't anything special, not in the least bit. Just a belt. Brown. Leather. Nice, a bit swank but simple. It was the sort of belt his father sold. It was the sort of belt Ianto had stolen, many years ago, in an effort to show his father a metaphorical finger.
He'd thought he was well clever back then. Stealing from under the old man's nose. What could be better?
Anything, really. It was well pathetic was what it was.
Ianto didn't touch it at first, just got the lights turned on and something cheerful but innocuous humming through the karaoke machine's speakers. He unlocked cabinets and overturned chairs, but finally the time came to wipe down the counter and he had to touch it.
Such a stupid move. What had he been trying to prove? Silently, leaning forward against the bar, Ianto picked up the belt and doubled the leather over. Both hands on either end, he pulled it taut suddenly and snapped the belt, the leather making a sharp, resonant sound in the empty bar.
Ah yes. That.