Ficlet: Little Things (for dremiel)
Title: Little Things
Author: lefaym
Beta: Many thanks to lionessvalenti
Fandom: Torchwood
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Toshiko, Ianto
Summary: Tosh always notices the little things.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: RTD and the BBC own these characters.
Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Word Count: Approx 650 words.
A/N: This was written for dremiel, as part of the help_haiti lightning round -- dremiel asked for a Tosh and Ianto friendship ficlet. I still have one ficlet up for grabs in the lightning round, and I've also offered a story of at least 1000 words to the highest bidder in the "Offering Words" round. You can also check out my help_haiti Master List, which links to all the offers from people on my flist.
Little Things
Ianto doesn’t really talk to her all that much-not about anything consequential, anyway-but that doesn’t stop Tosh from noticing all the little things he does for her: chocolate biscuits with her coffee on the morning after Owen had messed up one of her new DNA analysis programs, an alien blood-stain removed from her favourite top after she’d given it up for lost, the way that the relevant reports from the archives always seem to land on her desk moments before she realises that she needs them-she sees all of it.
She tries to thank him sometimes, but he just smiles that mysterious smile of his and says, “All part of my job,” almost as though he doesn’t really hear her. Tosh holds onto them, though, those little gestures-she files them away in her mind for safe-keeping, and promises herself that she’ll make it up to him one day.
It’s a drizzly and grey Wednesday morning when Tosh notices that Ianto doesn’t seem to be his usual self; his tie is crooked, he forgets to put sugar in her coffee, and when Owen snaps at him, he doesn’t respond with some biting witty remark, or even a roll of his eyes. She wonders if Jack might have something to do with it-he’d told them the day before that he’d be spending today in London, to liaise with UNIT officials; maybe they’d had some sort of row before he left.
That explanation doesn’t quite feel right to her, however, and it’s only when she looks at the date that she realises why. She remembers, then, the dull panic in her gut as everything went into lockdown, and the sharp pangs of fear she’d felt when she’d realised that the Hub’s defences were all that stood between the human world and a woman cased in metal who would have destroyed that world if she could. Tosh looks over at Gwen and Owen, who are laughing at some silly cat video on YouTube, and she wonders how any of them could have forgotten.
In the afternoon, Tosh slips out of the Hub, claiming that she needs to visit the post office, but she makes her way to the florist shop instead. Twenty minutes later, she’s returning to the Hub with a small bouquet of white lilies in her arm. As she approaches Mermaid Quay, she makes a quick phone call, and asks Ianto to fetch her some samples from one of the alien plants in the hothouse and when she arrives, the tourist office is deserted.
Tosh hesitates a moment after she lays the flowers gently on the desk, and then she takes a pen from the jar in the corner, and writes on the card.
I wish I could have known her.
It’ll have to do.
She doesn’t check to see if he finds the bouquet; she knows she could monitor the CCTV cameras if she wanted to, but it feels wrong somehow, so she loses herself in her work instead, sorting out the bugs in UNIT’s translation software. She becomes so absorbed that she barely notices when first Owen, and then Gwen say their goodbyes and leave. By that time, she’s only aware of the long strings of code involved in conjugating T’ladian verbs.
Tosh only looks up from her work when she hears quiet footsteps behind her, and moments later, Ianto places a mug of hot chocolate and a plate covered with shortbread beside her. She smiles at him, and he nods in acknowledgement before turning away.
As she lifts the first piece of shortbread to her lips, Tosh notices a scrap of lined paper sticking out from underneath the remaining biscuits. Carefully, she pulls it free, trying not to dislodge too many crumbs, and she sees a single line, written in Ianto’s neat, cramped handwriting.
Me too-she would have liked you.
Author: lefaym
Beta: Many thanks to lionessvalenti
Fandom: Torchwood
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Toshiko, Ianto
Summary: Tosh always notices the little things.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: RTD and the BBC own these characters.
Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Word Count: Approx 650 words.
A/N: This was written for dremiel, as part of the help_haiti lightning round -- dremiel asked for a Tosh and Ianto friendship ficlet. I still have one ficlet up for grabs in the lightning round, and I've also offered a story of at least 1000 words to the highest bidder in the "Offering Words" round. You can also check out my help_haiti Master List, which links to all the offers from people on my flist.
Little Things
Ianto doesn’t really talk to her all that much-not about anything consequential, anyway-but that doesn’t stop Tosh from noticing all the little things he does for her: chocolate biscuits with her coffee on the morning after Owen had messed up one of her new DNA analysis programs, an alien blood-stain removed from her favourite top after she’d given it up for lost, the way that the relevant reports from the archives always seem to land on her desk moments before she realises that she needs them-she sees all of it.
She tries to thank him sometimes, but he just smiles that mysterious smile of his and says, “All part of my job,” almost as though he doesn’t really hear her. Tosh holds onto them, though, those little gestures-she files them away in her mind for safe-keeping, and promises herself that she’ll make it up to him one day.
It’s a drizzly and grey Wednesday morning when Tosh notices that Ianto doesn’t seem to be his usual self; his tie is crooked, he forgets to put sugar in her coffee, and when Owen snaps at him, he doesn’t respond with some biting witty remark, or even a roll of his eyes. She wonders if Jack might have something to do with it-he’d told them the day before that he’d be spending today in London, to liaise with UNIT officials; maybe they’d had some sort of row before he left.
That explanation doesn’t quite feel right to her, however, and it’s only when she looks at the date that she realises why. She remembers, then, the dull panic in her gut as everything went into lockdown, and the sharp pangs of fear she’d felt when she’d realised that the Hub’s defences were all that stood between the human world and a woman cased in metal who would have destroyed that world if she could. Tosh looks over at Gwen and Owen, who are laughing at some silly cat video on YouTube, and she wonders how any of them could have forgotten.
In the afternoon, Tosh slips out of the Hub, claiming that she needs to visit the post office, but she makes her way to the florist shop instead. Twenty minutes later, she’s returning to the Hub with a small bouquet of white lilies in her arm. As she approaches Mermaid Quay, she makes a quick phone call, and asks Ianto to fetch her some samples from one of the alien plants in the hothouse and when she arrives, the tourist office is deserted.
Tosh hesitates a moment after she lays the flowers gently on the desk, and then she takes a pen from the jar in the corner, and writes on the card.
I wish I could have known her.
It’ll have to do.
She doesn’t check to see if he finds the bouquet; she knows she could monitor the CCTV cameras if she wanted to, but it feels wrong somehow, so she loses herself in her work instead, sorting out the bugs in UNIT’s translation software. She becomes so absorbed that she barely notices when first Owen, and then Gwen say their goodbyes and leave. By that time, she’s only aware of the long strings of code involved in conjugating T’ladian verbs.
Tosh only looks up from her work when she hears quiet footsteps behind her, and moments later, Ianto places a mug of hot chocolate and a plate covered with shortbread beside her. She smiles at him, and he nods in acknowledgement before turning away.
As she lifts the first piece of shortbread to her lips, Tosh notices a scrap of lined paper sticking out from underneath the remaining biscuits. Carefully, she pulls it free, trying not to dislodge too many crumbs, and she sees a single line, written in Ianto’s neat, cramped handwriting.
Me too-she would have liked you.