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[06 Dec 2011|01:26pm] |
It'd taken a bit of work, but Ianto got back from Alex's place looking at least moderately presentable-- things had gotten a touch awkward there at the end, and he was really regretting what he suspected would end up ruining what had otherwise promised to be one of his only non-torchwood friendships.
And there was still that issue about Casey and starbucks.
So he headed back to the hub, letting himself in and heading downstairs to Jack's office, and in particular the little bunker he considered his room. He knocked lightly on the outer door before coming inside, looking around to see if Jack was even in, and then looking down the open hatch.
"Sir? Permission to come aboard?" Alright, so maybe Alex had really helped make his mood better after all.
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[02 Oct 2011|02:58pm] |
Ianto was a touch surprised with himself, and just how far he'd let Jack convince him-- particularly when he looked back and figured he wasn't getting nearly as much in return. Although he figured he wouldn't regret it by the end of the night; at the very least, he'd give Jack a chance to make it up to him. Somehow he found it hard to believe that in the morning he would be worn-out and satiated, though.
He was still exceedingly self-conscious, though, and the walk from the locker room where he'd changed up to the bureau again took way longer than it had any reason to, and the stairs? Absolute hell. It was for the best that Jack didn't get to see him struggle with the hobbled steps he was forced to take with the skirt. Once he got up to his office, though, he found himself at something of a loss as to what to do. He had started to sit down, had to stand up and play with his chair until it could lift up enough to compensate for the heels, and then figured how much he had to struggle to stand would be less than attractive. He ended up finding a good place to stand by the copier machine where Jack would have a great view if he came up from the hub and a decent enough view from the front door-- he was a touch concerned, now, that they hadn't discussed that detail, but he'd have to get over it.
The press-on nails he'd hastily applied in the washroom were the same red as those ridiculous heels, and he found them distracting as hell. Every time he touched something and felt how they clacked against it, or when he caught a flash of colour out the corner of his eye, but he was starting to get a little more used to it as he absently scratched at the top of the copier machine, then raised a hand self-consciously to touch at the long blonde hair that fell to his shoulders. It was a pretty good quality wig; probably wouldn't have been so obviously fake if it was on someone like, say, Gwen. All soft waves and a side-part and everything, but Ianto just couldn't get used to the weight of it, or how a few strands would slide beneath his collar.
As he sighed and bent slightly to check the status of how much paper was in the copier (might as well get something actually done, as he waited) he rather hoped that Jack would hurry up. It wasn't like he had that much to get ready.
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[18 Sep 2011|03:36pm] |
In entire honesty, what Harkness did in the privacy of his own bedroom Ianto really didn't care about. Consenting adults and all that. It was when he tried to get Ianto into that bedroom that he got nervous. Not just because of the strange things it made him feel; mostly because they weren't all best friends with the Fuhrer, and some of them could still get in trouble about it. Hell, Ianto could get in trouble enough if he just turned a blind eye to Jack's behaviour, and that was what this was about today.
The new guy was alright, he supposed. Not bad. And the morning had gone by faster with his help, but whether or not Idris was merely competent wasn't the issue here. The issue was why he was here at all. It had only taken a single shared break before Ianto knew the answer to that-- to be fair, it likely wasn't nearly as obvious to anyone who wasn't as innately suspicious of Jack's motives as Ianto was. Either way, he was rapping his knuckles sharply on the door to Jack's office before walking inside and shutting it behind him, coming to the desk and laying down the pile of folders he had in his hands.
"Don't think that I don't know what you're doing, Harkness," He started bluntly enough, already starting to fall into a good scowl. "And don't think you'll get away with it for long, either."
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[11 Sep 2011|09:24pm] |
Okay, so John hadn't actually let him call Jack to let him know he hadn't been raped and murdered, but it could have been worse. Maybe just a little. He didn't have his wallet (and John refused to say what he'd done with it), or his phone, and his clothing had clearly seen better days, but at least that was something. He was far enough down the shore that he wasn't looking forward to that long walk back to the Hub, not with how positively sore everything seemed to be, and he was acutely aware of the looked he was getting from the early-morning pedestrians he passed on his limping way. At least they gave him plenty of room, but he suspected that was mostly due to the fully blossomed bruise on his cheek than anything else.
Still, if there was anything sacred in the world any more, he wouldn't have to make the full walk. He didn't have any doubt that Jack was likely worried sick about him and everyone was no doubt on high alert; now that he was back in the city with CCTVs and the like, he suspected it was only a matter of time before his route was intercepted by a big black SUV.
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[18 Apr 2011|03:01am] |
Ianto couldn't exactly remember how he'd gotten here-- He could assume it had to do with the car keys in his pocket (car keys! Who the fuck would have given him keys to their car?! He wasn't sure, but he was pretty tempted to go driving, like, right now), but he couldn't actually remember. Couldn't remember a lot of things, really, but it wasn't as if he was stupid. He knew how to go through his phone, and he knew he wanted to get absolutely smashed and something left in his brain told him that this was the place to do it.
He'd just have to... trust his instincts, or whatever, that this was right. It wasn't a real shady block of flats, but it certainly wasn't a great one, either, and he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks (ugh, what the fuck was he wearing, maybe there'd be a change of clothes in there too...) after he'd knocked, craning his neck to look around the hallway. There was the noise of a door opening further down, and he leaned back to try and see if he could find out who was coming out without leaving the spot in front of his destination.
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![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) 51st_centuryboy |
[24 Sep 2010|04:50pm] |
It wasn't the first time that Ianto had come to the Cardiff Morgue, really. He gave a weak smile to Greg at the reception, passing over his Torchwood ID and signing the log-book as they made idle conversation about the rugby match last night. Soon enough he was let in, speaking to the man quietly as they passed teary-eyed women in the hallways. Sure, generally he came round with Owen with him, but this was reasonably cut and dried, after all.
He was still just vaguely uncomfortable with the whole thing; the biometrics in the wrist-strap had quite helpfully alerted the hub in regards to when they should be on the look-out for things happening; things like Jack's murder. And, really, the first thing Ianto had done was to make a late-night phonecall to John just to make sure that he was still in the flat for the night.
Now, however, he was drumming his fingers against the desk, lips just slightly pursed.
"I'm going to have to take that body," he said finally. "The John Doe from the alley." He didn't want to think too hard about just what Jack had been doing in an alley, but was willing to maybe hear him out about it. It was harder than usual, perhaps, to keep his face blank.
"What for? Looks like a pretty open-and-shut one, if you ask me-- personal effects missing, redressed after death-- probably just a john who didn't feel like paying up after he'd finished." Greg shrugged idly, and Ianto rolled his eyes.
"Yes, well. They don't tell me anything, you know that. Here's the requisition-- can you hurry up about it? I'm supposed to bring it back before it starts to smell. It's hell to get that out of the truck." No one on the team was exactly sure just how long it took Jack to... recover, and ideally they could at least get him into the back of the SUV before he noticed.
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| 51st_centuryboy |
[15 Sep 2010|10:51pm] |
Ianto at least had the decency to wait until most of the squad had left for home; Tosh and Gwen went out, chatting about whatever it is girls talk about when there aren't any boys in ear-shot, and Owen was still futzing about in their home-grown lab, but he was pretty obviously ready to leave any minute. Still, he didn't want this to be anything close to being considered a professional complaint, so when he knocked lightly on Jack's door he was carrying only a coffee (his own), and had left his suit jacket upstairs, and even done his vest.
It was hard for Ianto to give a Casual vibe without giving a Let's Have Office Sex vibe, although tonight they were very very different, and he could only hope Jack wouldn't get them confused.
"Done your paperwork?"
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| 51st_centuryboy |
[06 Sep 2010|12:09am] |
It was getting to the point in Ianto's life where mundane, boring days were a godsend. No wide-open Rifts, no rogue Agents skulking about behind him, not even a lone Weevil out to give him trouble for today, and it was absolutely glorious. He'd spent the morning catching up on a bit of paperwork he'd let slip lately, and the afternoon checking on some power fluctuations down in the Archives. Ordered Italian for tonight (no matter what Owen might say on the matter, 'pizza' did not count as Italian in Ianto's books), and still had time to drop by the dry cleaners and pick up everyone's things from that little fiasco on Tuesday, before they closed.
He managed carrying the bags in one hand quite well, actually, going through the hub and making idle smalltalk with Tosh for just a bit before dropping off her bag, leaving Owen's on his chair and Gwen's hung up on the rack of her desk.
There was a very specific reason why his route through the Hub hit all of their desks first, and he did an admirable job of keeping the bounce out of his step as he headed up to Jack's office, and pushed the door firmly shut behind him with a heel. "Your suit, sir," he clarified helpfully as he draped Jack's across the chair in front of his desk, and hung his own up on the coat rack by the door, even if he was already reaching up with his free hand to begin and loosen his tie.
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[10 Aug 2010|12:40am] |
Now that they had settled back into their comfort zone with each other, and gotten past the rampant paranoia and walking-on-eggshells that was to be done after a couple's first tiff, things were going quite smoothly. Sure, the fact that John was still (still!) living in Ianto's flat had put a bit of a hitch into things, but Ianto was beginning to at least let them be in the same room together unsupervised, so things were improving on that front.
And occasionally, they didn't even have to worry about him overly much, like tonight. Some reasonably awful made-for-TV movie was on, but they weren't paying all that much attention to it, instead simply enjoying the act of lying together on the couch. Ianto in particular rather liked sliding their fingers back and forth together, although there was just a faint tenseness in his shoulders and back as he tried to think of just how he could broach a rather sensitive subject.
"Jack?" He murmured, giving the man a bit of a more noticeable nudge to help get his attention.
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| 51st_centuryboy |
[30 Jul 2010|04:18pm] |
It had been three days since The Incedent, and nobody had been enjoying it. Jack and Ianto were both, on their own, very good at making other people just as miserable as they were, and together they were practically a force of nature. But still, Ianto could only take Gwen's well-meaning advice ('Well, when Rhys and I get in a bit of a spat, nothing quite makes things back to normal like hard, long, wall-banging sex' Yes, Thanks, Gwen, Did Not Need To Know That) and Owen's constant muttering for so long.
Also, sort of, he maybe regretted upsetting Jack, a bit. He had made some pretty low blows, even if Jack had made his fair share of them as well, and he wasn't entirely sure just how he could say sorry.
It takes a very keen observer of human nature to tell when Ianto is hatching a plan, because he does so with only very little variation in his regular habits. Although the Hub was as warm as usual, he had left his jacket upstairs at the information desk to come down instead in only his shirt, open vest, and tie. A batch of folders on varying reports was tucked securely under one arm, and in his other hand he carried a cup of hot coffee, done just the way that Jack preferred. He took a second to stand in front of Jack's office doors and take a deep breath before he rapped his knuckles on it and came inside. It had been the first time he'd come in since they'd had their words with each other.
He moved efficiently, closing the door behind him to try and block out the expectant eyes of the rest of the team who had watched him come up the stairs, and moved without speaking to come around Jack's desk so that he might put the mug down in it's accustomed place before he leaned in just an inch closer than he necessarily had to to put the folders in front of the man. He even opened them for him, and leaning so close over his shoulder made it plain enough that he was wearing the cologne he'd gotten for Christmas last; the one that Jack had always seemed to respond to so well.
"Here you are, sir. Can I fetch you anything else?"
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