015. Church // Ianto Jones // Torchwood
Title: Down by the Riverside
Prompt Number/Prompt: 015 / Church
Character/Fandom: Ianto Jones / Torchwood
Word Count: ~760 words
Rating: ~PG for very mild cursing
Warning(s): Spoilers for "Cyberwoman." 1st person.
Summary: Faith and fun never went together much before, but Lisa had a knack for making him break out of his tidy little bubble.
P.S. I totally think this makes up for samw_mrperfect's May prompt response!
"Come to church with me, Ianto," Lisa had said and she'd said it at least half a dozen times before then. I wasn't particularly into religion at the time, though - not that I am now, but - I just balked at the invitation as gentlemanly as I could - though I imagine that it wasn't all that subtle. I reacted as if someone had invited me to be their date to a local funeral. It just seemed ... weird.
She might as well have said, "come learn how far down in the Pit of Hell your fiery seat will be - oh, and, while we're talking about the afterlife, you can hear all about my golden throne in Glory!" I just couldn't bring myself to even think about going without, you know, a gun to my head or something ... if then. But, eventually, for her, I went.
I pulled myself into a dark workaday suit and drove to pick her up, at which time she promptly laughed at me, sliding into the passenger side of the car in her khaki slacks and scoop neck knit top.
"What?" I said.
"Oh, nothing. Just- ... you look nice." She'd nodded as she said it, though, eyebrows hitched up just a little. I figured that I probably looked like one of the priests or something, but it was too late to change and, personally, I thought I did look rather dapper.
When we got there, however, it was truly like nothing I'd been expecting at all. It was so lively and it wasn't even in an actual church! They'd just rented out a local public space and gathered together to worship. I kind of had a hard time thinking of it as church, even, as opposed to some kind of bible house party.
Problem was, I was raised in a very formal (practically high catholic) Anglican church and there was prayer and sermonizing, song and fellowship, and so on, but I had apparently found myself in love with an adherent of an aggressively informal, charismatic-evangelical church. I'd never been in such an emotive, energy-filled religious service in my life! The people were practically dancing for the Lord! I couldn't decide if my prim and proper parents would find it abhorrent or wondrous, but I felt rather like a bull in a china shop. Or, perhaps more accurately, like a porcelain plate in a bull pen.
The entire church experience of my youth had been of a stand-and-pray, kneel-and-pray, sit-and-listen sort, so I was wholly unprepared for religion as a feat of rhythmic athleticism. My feet and my hands and my voice and my hips just weren't used to working together for some function other than the sheer basics of self-defense. I became aware of more very valid reasons for why I shouldn't dance, more even than I'd ever come up with while standing resolutely by the bar at any club - well, until Lisa dragged me out to bumble around on the dance floor under her very close supervision.
This was different, though. Looking around at all the people with actual musical coordination, Lisa among them, I couldn't contain the hint of minor envy, but I soldiered on, just as the song said, hoping to at least give the heavenly hosts half a good laugh. Soon, I found a kind of camaraderie, even, with the rest of the slightly (or ridiculously) uptight persons who seemed so moved by the service that they eventually didn't mind making an ass of themselves.
I'll admit that I walked out of there, Lisa's arm wound around my own, and I was smiling. Not because of God so much, but because I ... maybe ... kind of ... almost ... sort of ... actually had fun, despite my own hang-ups.
I can't say that I went back there much after then, though. Our lives got hectic with work and then ... with everything ... but every time I pass some stuffy church that I'll never venture into, I wonder if I could still have fun back there, in Lisa's church, if I could still find that ease with religion now, without her. Sometimes, I think that if I walked into that space, inserting myself momentarily into that community of believers, that I'd spend the whole service with loss on my mind, but sometimes, I just think ... "Come to church with me, Ianto. Come to church."
And maybe she's right. Maybe a little jubilee could help rebuild the bits of joy that Lisa carried off with her when she left for higher ground.
Prompt Number/Prompt: 015 / Church
Character/Fandom: Ianto Jones / Torchwood
Word Count: ~760 words
Rating: ~PG for very mild cursing
Warning(s): Spoilers for "Cyberwoman." 1st person.
Summary: Faith and fun never went together much before, but Lisa had a knack for making him break out of his tidy little bubble.
P.S. I totally think this makes up for samw_mrperfect's May prompt response!
"Come to church with me, Ianto," Lisa had said and she'd said it at least half a dozen times before then. I wasn't particularly into religion at the time, though - not that I am now, but - I just balked at the invitation as gentlemanly as I could - though I imagine that it wasn't all that subtle. I reacted as if someone had invited me to be their date to a local funeral. It just seemed ... weird.
She might as well have said, "come learn how far down in the Pit of Hell your fiery seat will be - oh, and, while we're talking about the afterlife, you can hear all about my golden throne in Glory!" I just couldn't bring myself to even think about going without, you know, a gun to my head or something ... if then. But, eventually, for her, I went.
I pulled myself into a dark workaday suit and drove to pick her up, at which time she promptly laughed at me, sliding into the passenger side of the car in her khaki slacks and scoop neck knit top.
"What?" I said.
"Oh, nothing. Just- ... you look nice." She'd nodded as she said it, though, eyebrows hitched up just a little. I figured that I probably looked like one of the priests or something, but it was too late to change and, personally, I thought I did look rather dapper.
When we got there, however, it was truly like nothing I'd been expecting at all. It was so lively and it wasn't even in an actual church! They'd just rented out a local public space and gathered together to worship. I kind of had a hard time thinking of it as church, even, as opposed to some kind of bible house party.
Problem was, I was raised in a very formal (practically high catholic) Anglican church and there was prayer and sermonizing, song and fellowship, and so on, but I had apparently found myself in love with an adherent of an aggressively informal, charismatic-evangelical church. I'd never been in such an emotive, energy-filled religious service in my life! The people were practically dancing for the Lord! I couldn't decide if my prim and proper parents would find it abhorrent or wondrous, but I felt rather like a bull in a china shop. Or, perhaps more accurately, like a porcelain plate in a bull pen.
The entire church experience of my youth had been of a stand-and-pray, kneel-and-pray, sit-and-listen sort, so I was wholly unprepared for religion as a feat of rhythmic athleticism. My feet and my hands and my voice and my hips just weren't used to working together for some function other than the sheer basics of self-defense. I became aware of more very valid reasons for why I shouldn't dance, more even than I'd ever come up with while standing resolutely by the bar at any club - well, until Lisa dragged me out to bumble around on the dance floor under her very close supervision.
This was different, though. Looking around at all the people with actual musical coordination, Lisa among them, I couldn't contain the hint of minor envy, but I soldiered on, just as the song said, hoping to at least give the heavenly hosts half a good laugh. Soon, I found a kind of camaraderie, even, with the rest of the slightly (or ridiculously) uptight persons who seemed so moved by the service that they eventually didn't mind making an ass of themselves.
I'll admit that I walked out of there, Lisa's arm wound around my own, and I was smiling. Not because of God so much, but because I ... maybe ... kind of ... almost ... sort of ... actually had fun, despite my own hang-ups.
I can't say that I went back there much after then, though. Our lives got hectic with work and then ... with everything ... but every time I pass some stuffy church that I'll never venture into, I wonder if I could still have fun back there, in Lisa's church, if I could still find that ease with religion now, without her. Sometimes, I think that if I walked into that space, inserting myself momentarily into that community of believers, that I'd spend the whole service with loss on my mind, but sometimes, I just think ... "Come to church with me, Ianto. Come to church."
And maybe she's right. Maybe a little jubilee could help rebuild the bits of joy that Lisa carried off with her when she left for higher ground.