Ficlet: Loyal Friend
Title: Loyal Friend
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 835
Summary: Ianto is fine, the whole team is managing without Jack, but he still welcomes the company of a loyal old friend during the long, lonely nights in Jack’s bunker.
Spoilers: Set between End of Days and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.
Written For: templefugate’s prompt ‘Any, any, a worn teddy bear,’ at comment_fic.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood or any of the characters.
If any of the team were to see him like this, Ianto knows they’d laugh their heads off. Well, maybe not Tosh, but Gwen and Owen? Absolutely. They already seem to suspect him of moping over Jack being gone. He’s not, or at least not any more than anyone else, but because of the kiss… Yeah, Gwen looks at him with pity in her eyes, and Owen smirks and throws barbed insults his way, and really, that’s no different than when Jack was still here. But this… They’d have a ball over this, tease him about it for the rest of his life, however long that might be, so he’ll just have to make sure they never find out.
That should be easy enough, because none of them ever come down into Jack’s bunker. They didn’t when Jack was occupying it, respecting his right to privacy, and they won’t now he’s left them to go jaunting around space and time with the Doctor. As far as Ianto’s aware, they don’t even know that he’s taken to sleeping down here in Jack’s quarters most nights instead of going home. There’s not much point going back to his flat, nothing there needs his attention, unlike here, and besides, by the time he finishes his work, powers everything down, locks up, and goes home, it’s almost time to come back. Life is just simpler if he crashes in Jack’s bunker, since it’s currently vacant. He gets more sleep that way.
With that in mind, he’s transferred the necessities of life to the Hub, moving them bit by bit, so that his teammates wouldn’t notice and start asking questions. He already had shaving kit, toothbrush, shampoo and shower gel in the small ensuite bathroom, resting alongside Jack’s, because spending the night has been a semi-regular thing for a while now, but he’s added enough underwear and socks, shirts, suits, and ties to last him for a couple of weeks at a time. Casual clothes for after hours, nightwear, a few books to supplement the ones already on Jack’s bookshelf, MP3 player, bottle of scotch to avoid drinking his way through Jack’s stash, and Gethin, his teddy bear.
Yes, he has a teddy bear, so what? Ianto’s grandparents gave him the bear for his second birthday, and while friends have come and gone over the years, Gethin has always stuck with him, something for which Ianto has always been grateful, now more than ever. Got to have a bit of company on the long, lonely nights. Myfanwy’s not much for conversation, and okay, neither is Gethin, but he’s a good listener. He’s looking a bit threadbare these days, but Ianto could say the same about himself; working for Torchwood will do that. What matters is, Gethin is loyal and trustworthy, which is more than Ianto can say about most humans.
At night, Gethin is a warm, fuzzy lump under the covers with him, occupying a small portion of the space Jack used to fill, and making the old cot seem less empty. Then during the day, he sits on the pillow with Jack’s plush seal, Rhodri. If anyone happens to see them, Ianto can always claim they both belong to Jack, but since he keeps the hatch closed and locked unless he’s down here, it shouldn’t be an issue.
Crawling into bed again after another late-night retrieval, Ianto wraps one arm around Gethin, then reaches for Rhodri too, not wanting him to feel left out. There’s a bitterly cold wind blowing through Cardiff tonight, and although it’s not getting into the Hub with the invisible lift locked up tight, Ianto is chilled through from being out in it. He probably should have taken a hot shower to thaw himself out before crawling into bed, but he’s too tired to make the effort, and anyway, the spare duvet he brought from home last week will soon warm him up, much better than Jack’s thin blankets ever could. The cramped army surplus cot is always cold when Jack’s not in it.
Hugging the stuffed toys to him for what warmth they provide, he reassures them that Jack WILL come back, eventually. Could be tomorrow, next week, next month, or not until next year, but Ianto doesn’t doubt he’ll return. He refuses to acknowledge the possibility that Torchwood’s leader has abandoned them for good. Jack wouldn’t do that.
Probably.
“We’ll be here when he comes home, right?” he mumbles into Gethin’s worn, patchy fur. “And until then, we’ll do out best to keep this place ticking over, so he’s got somewhere to come home to. We’ll be fine.” Eyes closed, he listens to the quiet hum of the computers and the odd creaks and rattles of the antiquated heating system, sounding so much louder than they ever did when Jack was beside him, the sound of his quiet breathing lulling Ianto to sleep, but still comfortingly familiar, just like Gethin. ‘Wherever you are,’ he thinks, ‘please, Jack, come home soon. We miss you.’
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 835
Summary: Ianto is fine, the whole team is managing without Jack, but he still welcomes the company of a loyal old friend during the long, lonely nights in Jack’s bunker.
Spoilers: Set between End of Days and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.
Written For: templefugate’s prompt ‘Any, any, a worn teddy bear,’ at comment_fic.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood or any of the characters.
If any of the team were to see him like this, Ianto knows they’d laugh their heads off. Well, maybe not Tosh, but Gwen and Owen? Absolutely. They already seem to suspect him of moping over Jack being gone. He’s not, or at least not any more than anyone else, but because of the kiss… Yeah, Gwen looks at him with pity in her eyes, and Owen smirks and throws barbed insults his way, and really, that’s no different than when Jack was still here. But this… They’d have a ball over this, tease him about it for the rest of his life, however long that might be, so he’ll just have to make sure they never find out.
That should be easy enough, because none of them ever come down into Jack’s bunker. They didn’t when Jack was occupying it, respecting his right to privacy, and they won’t now he’s left them to go jaunting around space and time with the Doctor. As far as Ianto’s aware, they don’t even know that he’s taken to sleeping down here in Jack’s quarters most nights instead of going home. There’s not much point going back to his flat, nothing there needs his attention, unlike here, and besides, by the time he finishes his work, powers everything down, locks up, and goes home, it’s almost time to come back. Life is just simpler if he crashes in Jack’s bunker, since it’s currently vacant. He gets more sleep that way.
With that in mind, he’s transferred the necessities of life to the Hub, moving them bit by bit, so that his teammates wouldn’t notice and start asking questions. He already had shaving kit, toothbrush, shampoo and shower gel in the small ensuite bathroom, resting alongside Jack’s, because spending the night has been a semi-regular thing for a while now, but he’s added enough underwear and socks, shirts, suits, and ties to last him for a couple of weeks at a time. Casual clothes for after hours, nightwear, a few books to supplement the ones already on Jack’s bookshelf, MP3 player, bottle of scotch to avoid drinking his way through Jack’s stash, and Gethin, his teddy bear.
Yes, he has a teddy bear, so what? Ianto’s grandparents gave him the bear for his second birthday, and while friends have come and gone over the years, Gethin has always stuck with him, something for which Ianto has always been grateful, now more than ever. Got to have a bit of company on the long, lonely nights. Myfanwy’s not much for conversation, and okay, neither is Gethin, but he’s a good listener. He’s looking a bit threadbare these days, but Ianto could say the same about himself; working for Torchwood will do that. What matters is, Gethin is loyal and trustworthy, which is more than Ianto can say about most humans.
At night, Gethin is a warm, fuzzy lump under the covers with him, occupying a small portion of the space Jack used to fill, and making the old cot seem less empty. Then during the day, he sits on the pillow with Jack’s plush seal, Rhodri. If anyone happens to see them, Ianto can always claim they both belong to Jack, but since he keeps the hatch closed and locked unless he’s down here, it shouldn’t be an issue.
Crawling into bed again after another late-night retrieval, Ianto wraps one arm around Gethin, then reaches for Rhodri too, not wanting him to feel left out. There’s a bitterly cold wind blowing through Cardiff tonight, and although it’s not getting into the Hub with the invisible lift locked up tight, Ianto is chilled through from being out in it. He probably should have taken a hot shower to thaw himself out before crawling into bed, but he’s too tired to make the effort, and anyway, the spare duvet he brought from home last week will soon warm him up, much better than Jack’s thin blankets ever could. The cramped army surplus cot is always cold when Jack’s not in it.
Hugging the stuffed toys to him for what warmth they provide, he reassures them that Jack WILL come back, eventually. Could be tomorrow, next week, next month, or not until next year, but Ianto doesn’t doubt he’ll return. He refuses to acknowledge the possibility that Torchwood’s leader has abandoned them for good. Jack wouldn’t do that.
Probably.
“We’ll be here when he comes home, right?” he mumbles into Gethin’s worn, patchy fur. “And until then, we’ll do out best to keep this place ticking over, so he’s got somewhere to come home to. We’ll be fine.” Eyes closed, he listens to the quiet hum of the computers and the odd creaks and rattles of the antiquated heating system, sounding so much louder than they ever did when Jack was beside him, the sound of his quiet breathing lulling Ianto to sleep, but still comfortingly familiar, just like Gethin. ‘Wherever you are,’ he thinks, ‘please, Jack, come home soon. We miss you.’
The End