likesthecoat: (serious teaboy)
Ianto is filing.

It's repetitive and soothing and doesn't require much thought, so his mind is wandering a bit.

At the moment it's wandering to Milliways and Mike's job offer, and how much fun it would be to have a regular schedule where he can experiment a bit more than he does at Torchwood, and where he can have a permanent room there for him to sneak Jack to when they need some time away . . .

And he still owes Duck a fairy tale.

And Valentine's Day is coming up.

And the file folders sliding against each other sound like holding a seashell to your ear.
likesthecoat: (rumpled)
[Post this. Warning for M/M of a flirtatious and often naked nature.]

Ianto dozes, stretched out in Jack's narrow camp bed. He's got a hand on whatever part of Jack is nearest to him, which is as close as he's come to saying "I don't want to leave yet."
likesthecoat: (diary)

Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack.


Just, Jack.
likesthecoat: (diary)
I used to think love meant forever, but I know better now. I can't offer anyone forever. Even if I offer someone the rest of my life, who knows how long that will be. Or won't be.

I hate feeling torn in two. I hate John thinking I'm only biding my time.

I hate knowing he's right.
likesthecoat: (chav)
[Post Mikey gives Ianto some special brownies.]

When Ianto comes back from Milliways, he's in the Hub.

This is bad.

Normally this would be good because he'd just go back to work. Today . . . well, he hasn't had to hide dilated pupils and rapid pulse since he was sixteen.

God, he's hungry.
likesthecoat: (diary)
We both knew I'd never stay away, I think. Where would I go, what would I do? Even if I never remembered, I'd still feel the loss.

And he's used to me now. I think we'd miss each other just as much.

I don't regret Sam or John or any of it. We all have to find our own ways of grieving.
likesthecoat: (alone)
Jack said to rest and consider his options, and Ianto has been doing so. He's been writing in his diary and drinking a lot of coffee, both in shops near his flat and in Milliways--though sleep has been harder to come by, all good intentions aside.

Neither of his options appeal to him.

He's lost count of all the times he's started to dial Jack's number and tell him to bring the retcon--and of all the times he's started to call him and ask if he can come back to work yet.

He wrote in his diary, If I have no reason for being here, why stay? and stared out at the bay for a long time afterwards.

The phone is in his hand. It's ringing. He has no idea what he'll say when Jack answers.

[ooc: Post-Cyberwoman, plot-locked to Jack.]
likesthecoat: (what you're not gonna be)
Ianto readjusts his tie, heart pounding as the elevator carries him down into the Hub.

(today, today, he's coming today)

He's scared for a moment that he'll be caught, that someone will notice how nervous he looks and know and everything will come crashing down around him. Today is a special day, a good day, but dangerous as well-- he's been planning it for weeks now, and there's always the chance that something might happen, that they'll all find out.

Ianto needn't have worried-- when he crosses the threshold he is greeted by the sounds of an energetic two-on-two basketball game. He stands behind the bars for a few minutes, puzzling out the teams as he waits on the doors to open. They're loud and clumsy and Ianto hopes they don't knock over or break any important equipment.

Owen and Gwen are together, their moves flashy and unorthodox. Owen tosses her the ball from the upper level-- Jack intercepts it and he and Tosh play keep-away for a few seconds, laughing, until Gwen recovers and throws it back to Owen who scores the final goal from his position above the net. The usual post-game banter is exchanged ("Of course, that was an illegal move." "Totally illegal!" "Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Losers.") as everyone gathers jackets and purses.

No one speaks to Ianto as they leave, or even seems to realize that he's there. Jack throws the basketball to him without looking, and the sudden silence is almost as deafening as the noise of the game.

As soon as the door hisses closed he's off and moving. He can't spare a single second-- there's too much to be done.


likesthecoat: (Default)

July 2012

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