Gwensday fic!
Title: Home is Where the Heart Is.
Characters: Ianto, Gwen, Rhys
Word Count: 1677
Rated: G for Gwen and every good thing.
In honor of Gwensday, here’s a little thing I’ve been working on and was inspired to finish. I suppose it doesn’t hurt that it makes my NaNo total for the day… Thanks for that Gwennie.
"Ianto, sweetheart," Gwen's voice came over the phone. There was a long pause while Gwen coughed and wheezed, and Ianto could do nothing but tuck the phone between his ear and shoulder and keep on with the expense reports.
It was quiet in the Hub. Owen had stomped out a while ago after their all night session chasing a rabid Weevil around town. They'd finally had to shoot it and lug it back to deal with. Tosh was in the board room working on some project that Ianto thought it better he didn't ask too many questions about.
Which left them, in their current state of reduced staffing (his nice euphemistic way of thinking about Jack fucking off to God knows where, for God knows how long) with him holding down the fort while Gwen stayed home and tried to get over the flu that had her stuck in bed.
Ianto had, on the whole, given up trying to keep up even a pretense of doing the usual paperwork. With just four of them, there simply wasn't time. He paid the bills, and kept the paychecks going (and gave them all a hefty raise in the bargain) but mostly he managed to ignore the rest of it. Until Whitehall called for the quarterly expense reports, that was.
So there he was at his workstation, knocking back shots of espresso, sleeves rolled up, tie slung over the stair railing, more or less making up three months of expenses to fill out his spreadsheet.
"Sweetheart," he heard then. He'd nearly forgotten Gwen was on the phone.
"Do you think you could bring me some of that soup, from that place, you know, where we went that one time..."
Ianto rolled his eyes, but nodded as he realized he did know which place she meant.
"And maybe some of those nice lozenges... the nice ones, not the nasty kind."
"Where's Rhys?" he asked idly, mind on his spreadsheet, trying to figure out how to justify all the construction work they'd had to have done as either 'physical upkeep' or 'routine maintenance.' (and what a lot of retcon, i.e. “medical supplies” that reno had taken).
"At the footie, with his mates. He didn't want to go, but they've had these tickets for months. I said I'd be fine, and I am, but I'm hungry and tired, and I don't want to go out, and I thought maybe you can drop the stuff by on your way home.”
He thought it touching that she thought he kept regular hours. Or went home.
"Let me just finish up this report that the Home Office is screaming for Gwen, and I'll be over in a bit. Do you need anything else?"
"Maybe something cold, for my throat ... you know what I like." Gwen yawned into the phone then. "Don't be too long, now, I'm hungry and the Home Office isn't going to read that report anyway, so just make up some numbers and come home. See you soon, love."
Ianto chuckled at Gwen clearly mixing him and Rhys up in her fevered state. But it felt kind of nice all the same. He thought sometimes that she and Rhys were a bit like he and Lisa might have been if it hadn't been for Torchwood and all that.
Ianto knew better than anyone what it cost to run Torchwood Three. So he chucked some appropriate numbers in the columns, tacked on an additional 15% for unexpected medical expenses (might as well make it look like Owen was the one making them go over budget) and sent the document off to Thames House.
Surely there must be a file cabinet somewhere in that building with his name on it, he mused as he gathered his things up, sent Tosh a text to let her know she should call Owen if any rift alerts popped up, and then he was off to the car park and his appointed errands.
It was just before 9 p.m. when he arrived at Gwen's flat with bags full of takeaway, and the various and sundry things he was sure Gwen needed but hadn't bothered to ask for.
He let himself into the flat using the keys he'd found laying under some paperwork on Jack's desk late one night when he finally realized that he was going to have to go through it all and see if there was anything that needed to be taken care of. And if he now carried those keys-- keys for each of their homes-- in his pocket, and fingered them sometimes as a sort of talisman, it wasn’t the kind of thing he was going to tell anyone about.
The flat was dim with the light of the telly flickering in the lounge, although there was no one about. There was a pile of tissues and soggy used tea bags on the kitchen counter which he slid into the bin before he put his bags down.
Poking his head in the bedroom, he saw in the dim light from the ensuite what he assumed to be a Gwen sized lump under the duvet. Pulling the door shut, he went back to the kitchen, flipping the telly over to Top Gear on his way by, put the soup on to heat, and did the washing up.
He made a pot of tea, and rooted around in the kitchen until he found a tray for the dinner things.
Ianto slipped into the dimly lit bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. He watched Gwen sleep for a few minutes. Her hair was dark and wild against the pillow, and her face was flushed, and her nose red. Ianto leaned over her and shook her shoulder gently.
"Gwen. Wake up. I've brought you that soup."
It took several more attempts before Gwen woke up and looked blearily up at him.
"Ianto?"
"Dinner in a few minutes. Here, sit up," he said propping her up with a pillow he‘d nicked from the sofa, smiling at the way her hair was sticking up in odd ways.
"You brought me soup?" she asked, rubbing her eyes, and coughing.
"Naturally," he said, patting her leg beneath the covers, as he got up to go into the other room.
When he came back with the soup and tea on a tray, Gwen had switched on the lamp beside the bed.
"Budge over," he said, as she slid to the far side of the bed. He settled the tray in her lap.
She picked up the tea cup and cradled it in her hands, warming herself and breathing the steam that wafted from the cup.
"Be right back," he said, and slipped out of the room. He was back in no time, cradling a bowl of soup in his hands, cushioned by a tea towel to keep the hot soup bowl from burning his fingers. He sat down on the bed, toed his shoes off, and sat back against the headboard looking over at Gwen.
"Eat up, then. Dinner first," he said waving at the soup bowl on Gwen's tray. "Then, dessert," he said tapping the OK! magazine that was tucked under the napkin. "I mean, really, have you SEEN Victoria Beckham's new hairdo. Clearly we should check her for possible alien contact..."
Gwen giggled, and rapped Ianto on the forehead with her soup spoon before turning her attention to the food in front of her.
They chatted while they ate, and then when the soup was finished Gwen slid closer to Ianto while they paged through the magazine Ianto had picked up near the checkout when he bought her extra tissues and the lozenges she liked.
After an especially bad coughing fit, Gwen had curled up under the covers, and laid her head on Ianto leg as he sat next to her on her bed, running his fingers through her hair soothingly.
"S'nice," she said, humming with contentment, her cheek warm and soft against his leg.
"You should try and get some sleep," he said.
"Stay with me?" she asked snuggling a bit closer. "S'cosy."
"If you like."
"I wonder if Jack ever gets sick," she said sleepily, mostly mumbling into his leg.
"Dunno," Ianto said as he leaned over and snapped off the bedside lamp.
"You reckon he's okay tho?" she asked softly.
"Dunno," Ianto repeated, his hands stilling. “He was always okay when I… we… took care of him,” he said.
“Taking care of each other is what we do,” Gwen said pulling Ianto down and snuggling into the crook of his arm, her head resting over his heartbeat.
“There’s sorbet, the mango kind you like from the shop on the quay” he told her, running his fingers across the arm she had flung across his chest.
“Later. Sleep first,” she mumbled, and then looked up at him, “Wait, you went where?”
“Hush,” he said, pulling the duvet up around them. “Taking care of each other, remember?” he said tapping her on the nose.
He smiled as she wrinkled her nose, and then suddenly, there she was sneezing into his shirt.
She looked horrified, and he laughed before handing her a box of tissues, and gathering her back into his arms.
“Sorry, sorry,” she said, snuffling into the tissues. “Sodding cold.”
“S’alright,” he said. “Beds, messy places. I’ve had worse,” he said with a leer and a chuckle into the back of her neck.
“Why Ianto Jones,” she tsked.
“Just mind you don’t fill the bed with toast crumbs in the morning. I get right stroppy about that.”
Gwen twined her hand in his and settled back against him.
When Rhys got home, he found them curled up asleep. Gwen was wheezing a bit in her sleep and Ianto snoring gently. He thought he ought to mind but he just smiled at the two dark heads on the pillow sleeping peacefully and went to kip on the sofa.
He didn’t quite understand why they burst into laughter when he brought them tea and toast in the morning, though.
This entry was originally posted at http://valancy-joy.dreamwidth.org/135076.html