Pairing: Ianto/Owen (Includes references to other pairings.)
Word count: 1000 (Ten drabbles.)
Notes: Because paperclipbitch wanted someone else to write Ianto/Owen. She PWNS that pairing, so I tried to channel her a bit. Yes, I know it all gets jossed tomorrow. Whatever.
Thanks to beta_goddess and hllangel for quick turnaround time and helpful hints.
Summary: "At least it's not boring."
Ianto knows he had a sense of humour once.
He still remembers wooing Lisa with a series of emails that emulated various literary styles to tell her how much he loved her. The Barbara Cartland pastiche had been a big hit, producing a throaty chuckle he’d give anything and everything to hear one more time.
Now he says things that make other people smile, whether it’s correcting his co-workers’ pronunciation of Splott or telling his lech of a boss to keep his eyes and hands to himself. They think he’s joking, but he’s dead serious, as in seriously dead inside.
Owen used to love medicine.
The first time he got caught playing doctor, he’d actually been listening to the girl’s heart, thinking he heard some kind of abnormality. No one believed him and she died at sixteen from a heart attack that everyone said could never have been predicted.
Passion for healing gave way to medical school, the NHS and his sister’s cancer until the human body became his enemy. God bless Torchwood for taking him away from all that.
Now he just deals with aliens and the fact that his co-workers are going mad.
At least it’s not boring.
“Ianto Jones? Captain Jack Harkness. Welcome to Torchwood.”
Ianto had taken it all in. The smile. The eyes: bright, but not quite warm. The too-easy charm. He’d seen it before, although never in such a complete, completely appalling package. God, the man was full of himself, easy enough to fool with a few well placed sirs and an ability to bring some order to the chaos.
He’d do whatever it took to keep Lisa safe and if that meant giving in to crude advances passing as jokes, so be it.
But why did it have to be so good?
The first time he saw Jack Harkness, Owen saw trouble.
Good-looking bastard with too many teeth, and what the hell was up with the bloody coat anyway? He already knew he was walking into an asylum, but they’d have him, and that was good enough, even if the boss was a bit queer.
Owen’d had his share of nights when shagging a bloke was easier than wasting his limited supply of charm on a girl, but it never meant anything. Just that he was pissed or bored or lonely.
This Jack fellow though; different breed.
He’d mean something, all right.
Jack said they needed a doctor and Ianto found Owen Harper.
Dr. Harper proved incapable of obeying orders, following protocol or showing the least bit of respect to anyone or anything. It was bad enough that he treated Ianto as an insignificant lackey, but his attitude was contagious and Jack seemed unwilling or unable to set the record straight.
He tried to point this out to Jack, with the argument that Owen was undermining Jack’s authority as well.
Jack would have none of it, pointing out that Owen’s sense of humour was good for morale.
He made Suzie smile again.
Where the hell did Jack find these people?
The computer girl was competent enough and easy on the eyes, but must have been standing in the wrong line when they were giving out personalities.
And the tea-boy?
He’d gotten on Owen’s last good nerve from the first day, when he’d asked Owen to fill out forms in triplicate and tried to brief him on the importance of following procedures for handling each piece of alien technology.
Owen noticed Suzie Costello smirking from across the room. A live wire in a hub full of stiffs.
They’d definitely have some laughs together.
Lisa’s gone and Ianto can barely forgive himself, so he’s certainly not forgiving the bastards who killed her. He dreams of their faces as they blasted his love to pieces.
Tosh and Gwen shooting with grim determination. Maybe they thought that matching Jack’s ruthlessness was the way to his heart and bed, as if there’s a difference. Owen must have practically come in his trousers at the chance to show off his manliness in front of the two ladies.
He hates Owen even more than he hates Jack, and considering what Jack’s doing to him right now, that’s saying something.
It’s not his fault that Suzie went bonkers.
Fine, he was a bastard, but everyone agrees it was the glove, which means technically it was Jack’s fault
And if Gwen needed a shoulder to cry on and a fuck so good it left them both gasping from the sheer intensity of it, who was he to turn down a lady in distress?
Yeah, all-around hero he is.
So don’t tell him he deserves this thing in his soul that hurts worse than anything Weevils or Ianto could have inflicted.
Do not tell him that.
Because this time, he’ll kill you.
Jack’s losing interest.
Ianto can tell and he’s relieved. Not being the boss’s fuck-toy might give him a chance to remember who he used to be, although he doubts he’ll ever be that again. Now he’s something that Jack’s created. A predator.
He was standing in the doorway when Jack visited Owen in hospital and found himself oddly moved by the bruises and scars. The sight of Owen Harper looking so vulnerable was…beautiful.
Right then, he’d wanted to go in and touch the wounds left by the Weevil and leave some of his own.
All he needs is the chance.
In the midst of chaos, with their leader missing and the universe in tatters, now they’re going to do this?
Maybe he should have expected it all along, but he never expected it would be like this. Face down on Ianto’s bed, legs spread wide, arms in restraints, moaning into a pillow because who the hell knew that Ianto was hung like that, much less willing to keep the world waiting while he fucks Owen so slowly he’s going to start begging any minute?
And that’s what it’s all about isn’t it?
Hate. Anger. Revenge.
Good enough for now.