Fic: Just an Ordinary Bloke
TITLE: Just an Ordinary Bloke
AUTHOR: Erin Giles
RATING: R - excessive swearing
DISCLAIMER: Torchwood is property of the BBC and RTD.
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: Rhys, Ianto, Gwen/Rhys & Jack/Ianto implied.
SUMMARY: Post Exit-Wounds. Rhys Williams may not know how to save the world from alien invasions but he knows how to save a man from himself.
AUTHORS NOTES: I'm supposed to be writing/editing the next chapter of "The Boy Is Gone" but cs_whitewolf told me about an interview Gareth had done where he thought Rhys and Ianto would be great friends so I wrote this instead.
“Drinking alone?”
Ianto blinked at his pint a couple of times before looking up at Rhys who was looking down at him, hands shoved in his pockets. There was a rabble of guys at the bar behind him and Ianto recognised Banana from the wedding and a few of the others.
“Yeah, just thought I’d have a couple of quiet ones on my way home.”
Rhys nodded, suddenly feeling awkward that he had come over to talk to Ianto. The thing was Rhys liked Ianto though. They had got on like a house on fire at the wedding, talking about Wales recent Grand Slam win, the merits of a good pint of ale and several other mundane things. Turned out they had both briefly gone to the same primary school a few years apart.
Ianto Jones had been full of life that night, quick witted and eyes only for Jack Harkness which made Rhys grateful that Jack at least had someone to stop him from jumping Rhys' wife. Now though, tie hanging loose around his neck, shirt crumpled and jacket slung haphazardly over the seat beside him, Ianto Jones looked like a breakdown waiting to happen.
“Jack not with you then?”
Ianto visibly flinched like the mention of Jack’s name had stung him, not just emotionally.
“No,” Ianto’s voice was ragged as he took a rather large gulp from his beer. The lads were downing pints at the bar, already looking like they were planning on moving on, or they were going to be moved on by the landlord who was frowning at them. Rhys made his decision.
“I’ll be back in a minute man.”
Ianto barely registered Rhys weaving slightly back to the bar as he drained the last of his pint from his glass. He should really go home, curl up and get some sleep so he would be able to function tomorrow. The thing was he didn’t think he could function anymore, so it wouldn’t really matter if he got another drink, and another after that, and ended up so utterly pissed that he couldn’t remember his Christian name let alone his surname. Although he probably had a better chance of remembering his surname considering he lived in Wales.
“Here.”
Rhys placed another pint on the table in front of Ianto, “Get that down you.” Ianto took a large gulp from his pint, and it was only now he realised that the group of lads that Rhys had been with had gone from the pub.
“By the time they get home tomorrow morning they’ll think I never left, don’t need a married fella like me keepin’ ‘em back anyway.” Rhys smiled and Ianto nodded gratefully.
“Where’s Gwen tonight?”
“She’s gone round her mate’s for a girly night. She didn’t want to go mind, I said it would do her good though.”
“It probably will,” Ianto agreed taking another large mouthful of his own pint. There was an uncomfortable silence for a long moment in which Rhys’ glanced at the TV in the pub to see that Man U were winning two nil.
“You and Jack have a fight then?” Rhys asked eventually, glancing back at Ianto who was playing with one of the beer mats distractedly.
“No, nothing like that,” Ianto shrugged as if he didn’t know what was up. “We’ve just all been sort of floating and-” Ianto stopped looking up at Rhys, his eyes glassy as he continued to slouch on the bench.
“Doesn’t matter,” Ianto said resignedly, picking up his pint and taking a large gulp to try and cover up his blatant avoidance of the subject of him and Jack.
“Gwen was telling me there was going to be a remembrance service on Wednesday. I said I’d take the day off work, come with,” Rhys tried to say idly, almost asking Ianto’s opinion. Ianto didn’t say anything, just continued to stare into the depths of his pint, secretly wishing he could drown himself in it. He scuffed his polished shoes off the sticky floor underneath the table, moving a fallen beer mat with his foot.
“Another one?” Rhys asked before Ianto had even sat the empty pint glass back down on the table. He hadn’t even realised he’d drained it, but Rhys was up and moving back towards the bar before Ianto had a chance to protest, not that he was going to, but it would have been nice to have the chance to be polite.
“Went to the Cardiff Blues game the other night,” Rhys started before he’d even sat down, apparently made a change of tact while he’d been away at the bar.
“Ref was playing more dirty than Ulster were. Williams is on the bench again due to a knee injury and Jenkins got sin binned for an apparent high tackle when it was blatantly obvious to the whole crowd that he tackled him round the waist,” Rhys rambled, not expecting Ianto to say anything really, so he just kept talking.
“Wales are playing England this weekend as well. Dafydd managed to get a couple of spare tickets but my bloody luck I’ve got to work don’t I.” Rhys paused long enough to take a sip of his pint, watching Ianto warily.
“I used to play when I was in school,” Ianto said, reminiscing as Rhys brought his pint back to the table.
“Haven’t played since really. Don’t get a chance nowadays, not even to watch it, not with work.” Ianto sounded almost forlorn.
“You must get some time off?” Rhys asked, glancing over at the door of the pub as it burst open to admit a hen party. When he turned back Ianto was shaking his head.
“I don’t think I’d know what to do with my free time anymore.” Ianto smiled sadly. “When I’m not working, I’m with Jack, and that’s still work isn’t it?”
“Man you’re in the wrong relationship if you think its work,” Rhys tried to joke, but Ianto’s head snapped up, looking at Rhys intensely when he used the word ‘relationship’.
“What?” Rhys asked, wiping away his foam moustache as he stared at Ianto, a confused look on his face.
“Nothing.” Ianto shook his head, although Rhys could see a hint of a smile playing at the corners of Ianto’s lips before Rhys was ploughing back into an anecdote that involved too much beer, a shopping trolley and a pissed off on-duty PC Cooper.
They’d almost drunk a gallon of Brains between them by the time they were put out the pub with the milk bottles. Ianto was leaning against the wall, trying rather unsuccessfully to put one foot in front of the other as Rhys fumbled in his jeans' pocket for his keys and his phone. He dropped his phone on the pavement, battery and sim card scattering in opposite directions. He lurched forward and backwards trying to pick up the pieces and unsuccessfully reassemble his phone. He frowned down at it as he heard a phone ringing.
“’s mine!” Ianto proclaimed, fumbling his own phone from his pocket.
“Hello?” he answered in a rather singsong voice.
“Jack.” Ianto’s voice suddenly sobered as he tried to straighten himself up against the wall.
“Can’t. Too drunk,” Ianto stated matter-of-factly before hanging up.
“Bloody Torchwood,” Rhys mumbled as he managed to slot the back onto his phone again. Ianto laughed as he stumbled away from the wall into the side of Rhys.
“Bloody Torchwood,” Ianto agreed as he pulled his suit jacket over his shoulders.
“So what was Jack ‘bloody’ Harkness after then?” Rhys asked, his brain and tongue loose enough to stop beating around the bush.
“A fuck probably,” Ianto answered bluntly.
“Bloody hell. He just calls you up for sex when he feels like it?” Rhys asked indignantly, weaving down the street beside Ianto.
“I’d tell him to fuck off if I were you mate.”
Ianto smiled slyly, considering leaving that lie in Rhys’ mind since he was still mad at Jack but his drunken conscience won out.
“Everyone thinks we’re just sex.” Ianto admitted dopily as he bashed sideways into a lamppost. “We’re not though. Although there is a lot of sex. It scares me sometimes when we go out to dinner or something how much of a normal couple we can be.”
“Sounds like you’re in a relationship man. Sounds like you’re in love,” Rhys said matter-of-factly, poking Ianto in the side of the arm as they stumbled across the road, neither of them really knowing where they were going.
Ianto scoffed, “Don’t be stupid.”
Although, even Ianto’s beer addled mind knew Rhys was right, had known for a long time, but denial was easier when no one else was telling you what you already knew. Silence descended between them before Rhys was opening his mouth to change feet again.
“So how come you’re not in the throws of a mental breakdown then? I thought you were all really close?”
Ianto stopped in the middle of the pavement, swaying slightly as he looked at Rhys disbelievingly.
“Gwen’s right, your mouth does get you into trouble.” Ianto chuckled before he was in fits of hysterics, clutching onto his ribs as he leant against someone’s garden wall. Rhys did nothing but stand there, staring at him wide-eyed. The laughter soon descended into coughing and Rhys was moving forward towards Ianto, rubbing his back as hacking coughs broke free from him.
“Bloody hell Ianto, breathe. I don’t want to have to tell Gwen another of her colleagues is dead due to me being a twat.”
“Sorry,” Ianto apologised, getting himself under control and wiping at the tears that were now present in his eyes. “Just the fact you think I’m coping’s really funny. The fact that you care.”
“You’re Gwen’s friend, why wouldn’t I care?” Rhys asked seriously, righting Ianto before they were sauntering further down the street.
“Just-” Ianto started but then failed to find any words, staring ahead at a taxi that was turfing a group of young girls out into the queue for Oceana.
“You haven’t had time to think about how you feel about it have you? Too busy bloody caring about Gwen and Jack,” Rhys stated just as Ianto’s phone started ringing again. Rhys watched Ianto carefully as it all suddenly hit him full force, watched as he staggered back into the wall of the nearest building. Ianto didn’t have the capacity to answer his phone now; his hands were shaking in grief and drunkenness as he sat down rather harshly on someone’s doorstep.
“Give us your phone,” Rhys demanded, reaching down to take it from Ianto’s shaking hands. Jack’s name was flashing up at him as he slid the phone open to answer it.
“Ianto, are you okay?”
“It’s not Ianto, it’s Rhys. And no, he’s not okay,” Rhys answered truthfully, turning back to glance at Ianto who was now clinging onto the wall as tears slipped down his cheeks silently.
“What’s happened?”
There was panic in Jack’s voice that Rhys didn’t know he was capable of.
“We’re on Greyfriars Road outside Oceana. You come and pick us up?”
“Yeah, stay put I’ll be there in five. Is he hurt?” Jack probed and Rhys could hear keys rattling in the background and the distinct sound of someone running on metal gratings.
“Not physically,” Rhys admitted, suddenly feeling far more sober than he should be as he watched a grown man crying. Rhys heard Jack swear softly down the phone before he had hung up, leaving Rhys alone with Ianto and his grief.
Jack was there in under five minutes, springing from the SUV that he’d left abandoned in the middle of the road and dodging round a parked car to get to Rhys and Ianto who were now both sat on someone’s front doorstep.
“Ianto?” Jack questioned, kneeling down in front of them both, a hand resting on Ianto’s knee, watching as the Welshman tried to valiantly wipe away the tears from his pasty face.
“What happened?” Jack asked, looking between both Rhys and Ianto. Ianto seemed to be hesitant but Rhys had no qualms about holding back, telling Jack Harkness exactly what he thought of him.
“Well lets see, people died, you were a twat, Ianto was going to drink himself into a drunken stupor so I thought I’d be the friend he doesn’t have.”
“Hang on a minute!” Jack started, but Rhys was interrupting.
“Fuck off Jack! I don’t care that you’ve gone through shit, it’s not always about you or Gwen. Just because Ianto doesn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve like the two of you doesn’t mean he doesn’t have any. Now take him home and talk to him. You should be putting me on the payroll as bloody agony aunt or grief counsellor,” Rhys ranted, causing Jack and even Ianto to stare at him in disbelief.
“Now are you going to give us a lift home or not?” Rhys asked, getting to his feet rather unsteadily and striding over to the SUV without a backward glance.
**
“Cheers for the lift,” Rhys said gruffly, suddenly feeling drunk again as he stumbled onto the curb outside his and Gwen’s flat.
“Rhys!” Jack called out to him, getting out of the car to meet him at the front door.
“Thanks.” Jack said softly when he was stood beside the Welshman. “Not just for tonight. Some days I don’t know what we’d do without you.” Jack admitted, clapping Rhys on the back before he was crossing back towards the SUV.
Rhys stared after him in disbelief, only to find Ianto staring at him out of the passenger window. A brief nod was exchanged between the two of them before Rhys was pushing open the front door and stumbling inside. He knew he was going to feel as rough as anything come morning but as he stumbled up the stairs and into the flat he realised he’d just had one of the best nights out in a while.
AUTHOR: Erin Giles
RATING: R - excessive swearing
DISCLAIMER: Torchwood is property of the BBC and RTD.
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: Rhys, Ianto, Gwen/Rhys & Jack/Ianto implied.
SUMMARY: Post Exit-Wounds. Rhys Williams may not know how to save the world from alien invasions but he knows how to save a man from himself.
AUTHORS NOTES: I'm supposed to be writing/editing the next chapter of "The Boy Is Gone" but cs_whitewolf told me about an interview Gareth had done where he thought Rhys and Ianto would be great friends so I wrote this instead.
“Drinking alone?”
Ianto blinked at his pint a couple of times before looking up at Rhys who was looking down at him, hands shoved in his pockets. There was a rabble of guys at the bar behind him and Ianto recognised Banana from the wedding and a few of the others.
“Yeah, just thought I’d have a couple of quiet ones on my way home.”
Rhys nodded, suddenly feeling awkward that he had come over to talk to Ianto. The thing was Rhys liked Ianto though. They had got on like a house on fire at the wedding, talking about Wales recent Grand Slam win, the merits of a good pint of ale and several other mundane things. Turned out they had both briefly gone to the same primary school a few years apart.
Ianto Jones had been full of life that night, quick witted and eyes only for Jack Harkness which made Rhys grateful that Jack at least had someone to stop him from jumping Rhys' wife. Now though, tie hanging loose around his neck, shirt crumpled and jacket slung haphazardly over the seat beside him, Ianto Jones looked like a breakdown waiting to happen.
“Jack not with you then?”
Ianto visibly flinched like the mention of Jack’s name had stung him, not just emotionally.
“No,” Ianto’s voice was ragged as he took a rather large gulp from his beer. The lads were downing pints at the bar, already looking like they were planning on moving on, or they were going to be moved on by the landlord who was frowning at them. Rhys made his decision.
“I’ll be back in a minute man.”
Ianto barely registered Rhys weaving slightly back to the bar as he drained the last of his pint from his glass. He should really go home, curl up and get some sleep so he would be able to function tomorrow. The thing was he didn’t think he could function anymore, so it wouldn’t really matter if he got another drink, and another after that, and ended up so utterly pissed that he couldn’t remember his Christian name let alone his surname. Although he probably had a better chance of remembering his surname considering he lived in Wales.
“Here.”
Rhys placed another pint on the table in front of Ianto, “Get that down you.” Ianto took a large gulp from his pint, and it was only now he realised that the group of lads that Rhys had been with had gone from the pub.
“By the time they get home tomorrow morning they’ll think I never left, don’t need a married fella like me keepin’ ‘em back anyway.” Rhys smiled and Ianto nodded gratefully.
“Where’s Gwen tonight?”
“She’s gone round her mate’s for a girly night. She didn’t want to go mind, I said it would do her good though.”
“It probably will,” Ianto agreed taking another large mouthful of his own pint. There was an uncomfortable silence for a long moment in which Rhys’ glanced at the TV in the pub to see that Man U were winning two nil.
“You and Jack have a fight then?” Rhys asked eventually, glancing back at Ianto who was playing with one of the beer mats distractedly.
“No, nothing like that,” Ianto shrugged as if he didn’t know what was up. “We’ve just all been sort of floating and-” Ianto stopped looking up at Rhys, his eyes glassy as he continued to slouch on the bench.
“Doesn’t matter,” Ianto said resignedly, picking up his pint and taking a large gulp to try and cover up his blatant avoidance of the subject of him and Jack.
“Gwen was telling me there was going to be a remembrance service on Wednesday. I said I’d take the day off work, come with,” Rhys tried to say idly, almost asking Ianto’s opinion. Ianto didn’t say anything, just continued to stare into the depths of his pint, secretly wishing he could drown himself in it. He scuffed his polished shoes off the sticky floor underneath the table, moving a fallen beer mat with his foot.
“Another one?” Rhys asked before Ianto had even sat the empty pint glass back down on the table. He hadn’t even realised he’d drained it, but Rhys was up and moving back towards the bar before Ianto had a chance to protest, not that he was going to, but it would have been nice to have the chance to be polite.
“Went to the Cardiff Blues game the other night,” Rhys started before he’d even sat down, apparently made a change of tact while he’d been away at the bar.
“Ref was playing more dirty than Ulster were. Williams is on the bench again due to a knee injury and Jenkins got sin binned for an apparent high tackle when it was blatantly obvious to the whole crowd that he tackled him round the waist,” Rhys rambled, not expecting Ianto to say anything really, so he just kept talking.
“Wales are playing England this weekend as well. Dafydd managed to get a couple of spare tickets but my bloody luck I’ve got to work don’t I.” Rhys paused long enough to take a sip of his pint, watching Ianto warily.
“I used to play when I was in school,” Ianto said, reminiscing as Rhys brought his pint back to the table.
“Haven’t played since really. Don’t get a chance nowadays, not even to watch it, not with work.” Ianto sounded almost forlorn.
“You must get some time off?” Rhys asked, glancing over at the door of the pub as it burst open to admit a hen party. When he turned back Ianto was shaking his head.
“I don’t think I’d know what to do with my free time anymore.” Ianto smiled sadly. “When I’m not working, I’m with Jack, and that’s still work isn’t it?”
“Man you’re in the wrong relationship if you think its work,” Rhys tried to joke, but Ianto’s head snapped up, looking at Rhys intensely when he used the word ‘relationship’.
“What?” Rhys asked, wiping away his foam moustache as he stared at Ianto, a confused look on his face.
“Nothing.” Ianto shook his head, although Rhys could see a hint of a smile playing at the corners of Ianto’s lips before Rhys was ploughing back into an anecdote that involved too much beer, a shopping trolley and a pissed off on-duty PC Cooper.
They’d almost drunk a gallon of Brains between them by the time they were put out the pub with the milk bottles. Ianto was leaning against the wall, trying rather unsuccessfully to put one foot in front of the other as Rhys fumbled in his jeans' pocket for his keys and his phone. He dropped his phone on the pavement, battery and sim card scattering in opposite directions. He lurched forward and backwards trying to pick up the pieces and unsuccessfully reassemble his phone. He frowned down at it as he heard a phone ringing.
“’s mine!” Ianto proclaimed, fumbling his own phone from his pocket.
“Hello?” he answered in a rather singsong voice.
“Jack.” Ianto’s voice suddenly sobered as he tried to straighten himself up against the wall.
“Can’t. Too drunk,” Ianto stated matter-of-factly before hanging up.
“Bloody Torchwood,” Rhys mumbled as he managed to slot the back onto his phone again. Ianto laughed as he stumbled away from the wall into the side of Rhys.
“Bloody Torchwood,” Ianto agreed as he pulled his suit jacket over his shoulders.
“So what was Jack ‘bloody’ Harkness after then?” Rhys asked, his brain and tongue loose enough to stop beating around the bush.
“A fuck probably,” Ianto answered bluntly.
“Bloody hell. He just calls you up for sex when he feels like it?” Rhys asked indignantly, weaving down the street beside Ianto.
“I’d tell him to fuck off if I were you mate.”
Ianto smiled slyly, considering leaving that lie in Rhys’ mind since he was still mad at Jack but his drunken conscience won out.
“Everyone thinks we’re just sex.” Ianto admitted dopily as he bashed sideways into a lamppost. “We’re not though. Although there is a lot of sex. It scares me sometimes when we go out to dinner or something how much of a normal couple we can be.”
“Sounds like you’re in a relationship man. Sounds like you’re in love,” Rhys said matter-of-factly, poking Ianto in the side of the arm as they stumbled across the road, neither of them really knowing where they were going.
Ianto scoffed, “Don’t be stupid.”
Although, even Ianto’s beer addled mind knew Rhys was right, had known for a long time, but denial was easier when no one else was telling you what you already knew. Silence descended between them before Rhys was opening his mouth to change feet again.
“So how come you’re not in the throws of a mental breakdown then? I thought you were all really close?”
Ianto stopped in the middle of the pavement, swaying slightly as he looked at Rhys disbelievingly.
“Gwen’s right, your mouth does get you into trouble.” Ianto chuckled before he was in fits of hysterics, clutching onto his ribs as he leant against someone’s garden wall. Rhys did nothing but stand there, staring at him wide-eyed. The laughter soon descended into coughing and Rhys was moving forward towards Ianto, rubbing his back as hacking coughs broke free from him.
“Bloody hell Ianto, breathe. I don’t want to have to tell Gwen another of her colleagues is dead due to me being a twat.”
“Sorry,” Ianto apologised, getting himself under control and wiping at the tears that were now present in his eyes. “Just the fact you think I’m coping’s really funny. The fact that you care.”
“You’re Gwen’s friend, why wouldn’t I care?” Rhys asked seriously, righting Ianto before they were sauntering further down the street.
“Just-” Ianto started but then failed to find any words, staring ahead at a taxi that was turfing a group of young girls out into the queue for Oceana.
“You haven’t had time to think about how you feel about it have you? Too busy bloody caring about Gwen and Jack,” Rhys stated just as Ianto’s phone started ringing again. Rhys watched Ianto carefully as it all suddenly hit him full force, watched as he staggered back into the wall of the nearest building. Ianto didn’t have the capacity to answer his phone now; his hands were shaking in grief and drunkenness as he sat down rather harshly on someone’s doorstep.
“Give us your phone,” Rhys demanded, reaching down to take it from Ianto’s shaking hands. Jack’s name was flashing up at him as he slid the phone open to answer it.
“Ianto, are you okay?”
“It’s not Ianto, it’s Rhys. And no, he’s not okay,” Rhys answered truthfully, turning back to glance at Ianto who was now clinging onto the wall as tears slipped down his cheeks silently.
“What’s happened?”
There was panic in Jack’s voice that Rhys didn’t know he was capable of.
“We’re on Greyfriars Road outside Oceana. You come and pick us up?”
“Yeah, stay put I’ll be there in five. Is he hurt?” Jack probed and Rhys could hear keys rattling in the background and the distinct sound of someone running on metal gratings.
“Not physically,” Rhys admitted, suddenly feeling far more sober than he should be as he watched a grown man crying. Rhys heard Jack swear softly down the phone before he had hung up, leaving Rhys alone with Ianto and his grief.
Jack was there in under five minutes, springing from the SUV that he’d left abandoned in the middle of the road and dodging round a parked car to get to Rhys and Ianto who were now both sat on someone’s front doorstep.
“Ianto?” Jack questioned, kneeling down in front of them both, a hand resting on Ianto’s knee, watching as the Welshman tried to valiantly wipe away the tears from his pasty face.
“What happened?” Jack asked, looking between both Rhys and Ianto. Ianto seemed to be hesitant but Rhys had no qualms about holding back, telling Jack Harkness exactly what he thought of him.
“Well lets see, people died, you were a twat, Ianto was going to drink himself into a drunken stupor so I thought I’d be the friend he doesn’t have.”
“Hang on a minute!” Jack started, but Rhys was interrupting.
“Fuck off Jack! I don’t care that you’ve gone through shit, it’s not always about you or Gwen. Just because Ianto doesn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve like the two of you doesn’t mean he doesn’t have any. Now take him home and talk to him. You should be putting me on the payroll as bloody agony aunt or grief counsellor,” Rhys ranted, causing Jack and even Ianto to stare at him in disbelief.
“Now are you going to give us a lift home or not?” Rhys asked, getting to his feet rather unsteadily and striding over to the SUV without a backward glance.
**
“Cheers for the lift,” Rhys said gruffly, suddenly feeling drunk again as he stumbled onto the curb outside his and Gwen’s flat.
“Rhys!” Jack called out to him, getting out of the car to meet him at the front door.
“Thanks.” Jack said softly when he was stood beside the Welshman. “Not just for tonight. Some days I don’t know what we’d do without you.” Jack admitted, clapping Rhys on the back before he was crossing back towards the SUV.
Rhys stared after him in disbelief, only to find Ianto staring at him out of the passenger window. A brief nod was exchanged between the two of them before Rhys was pushing open the front door and stumbling inside. He knew he was going to feel as rough as anything come morning but as he stumbled up the stairs and into the flat he realised he’d just had one of the best nights out in a while.