Yeah, this just fell into my head and kicked and screamed until I gave in and started typing. Living with people who are just like this I so feel Ianto's pain. Still not mine though darnit.
Sometimes Ianto wondered why he bothered. None of them seemed to appreciate anything he did, in fact they had come to expect the coffee and the cleaning and the readied kits and the stocked desks and drawers. They expected breakfast and lunch, and on the nights they stayed late of course dinner with a bit of tea served to take the edge off. Biscuits, crisps, muffins, donuts, cake - it all should be right there and then when they demanded it oh and make sure you serve it to me at my desk and once you are done serving clean up the crumbs. Oh yes, I did drop a bit on the wires so make sure you clean that well in case a mouse happens by and you know what a mouse can do with wires and since you've finished cleaning how about another round of coffee? Actually, could I have hot chocolate milk with whipped cream, marshmallows and chocolate shavings on top? Be a pet Ianto, and get right on that for me.
Then of course there was paperwork, filing, fetching files and artifacts, returning said artifacts, manning the tourist office (more coffee!), feed and clean up after the residents, perhaps scrub the toilets and the showers (coffee! more coffee!), how about a few rounds of laundry (are there more biscuits? no? could you pop round and get me some?),
It. Never. Ended.
Ianto would have been fine with it all, really he would, if just one person, one of the whole bloody lot, could learn to say thank you. The closest he got was a rude suggestion and a grope from Jack. Tosh might grunt if she noticed. Gwen just ignored him. Owen, well Owen was a twat.
It had been one of those days. Gwen needed a pen and couldn't leave her riveting game of solitaire to go and get it herself. Then, after he got her new pens she realized she needed post-its. Than, when he set her coffee on the desk she sighed and called him "pet" and informed him she wanted hot chocolate.
He almost informed her what she could pet.
Tosh was so wrapped up in her programs that she lost her grip on her lunch and it fell under her desk. It was sweet and sour chicken. And rice. It startled her so badly she jumped up and ran into Ianto, knocking the tray out of his hands and his trousers ended up covered in Gwen's hot chocolate and Owen's coffee (since Gwen was getting a special cup of chocolate Owen had demanded a special coffee).
Owen had left some sort of alien body parts out overnight and they had leaked through the container and whatever fluids they were composed of were now dried in long streams of greenish flecked with purple lines down the wall and across the floor. He had accidentally left the sterilizer open and spilled coffee inside, meaning the whole unit needed to be taken apart, cleaned and sterilized before it could be used to sterilize. He had also forgotten (for the eighteenth day in a row) to hose out the drawer where the gloopy pink alien had been stored. It apparently went from semi-solid to liquid when you tried to freeze it. The stench was reaching jack's office, and Ianto had gotten a stern lecture on keeping Hub clean and smelling pretty.
And then...there was Jack.
Didn't want to do his paperwork. Didn't want to take any calls. Didn't want to behave like a boss and make the rest of the lazy twats (and that included himself) do their damn work.
"Ianto, can you file...?"
"Ianto, can you find...?"
"Ianto, I could really use a coffee," (That one came complete with pouty face.)
"Ianto, do we have any biscuits/crisps/donuts/muffins/bananas etc."
"Ianto, where is my...?"
"Ianto, I think this is my last clean shirt."
"Ianto, I'm feeling peckish, can you order lunch/dinner?"
"Ianto, I'm tired of pizza and all the take-outs. Can you run get fish and chips?"
"Ianto, Tosh doesn't want fish and chips, can you get her Thai?"
"Ianto, Owen doesn't want fish and chips or Thai can you get him Chinese?"
"Ianto, Gwen doesn't want fish and chips, Thai or Chinese. You'll have to go to that shop on the other side of the Quay and get her a salad."
"Ianto, while you're picking up lunch, stop and get Gwen's dry cleaning. It's not too far out of the way so I told her you'd be happy to do it."
That had been the last straw. Without a word, Ianto Jones had left the building.
-TW-
"Jack?"
Jack glanced up to find a very puzzled looking Tosh standing in the doorway to his office. "Hey! What can I do for you?"
"Ianto's been gone for more than two hours. Wasn't he just picking up lunch?"
Jack frowned. "Well, that's all he said. Actually, come to think of it, he didn't say anything."
"Oi! Where is Teaboy with our food?" Owen appeared behind Tosh. "I'm gagging for a coffee."
"Jack, if he doesn't get to the cleaners by two they'll be closed and it'll have to wait until tomorrow. Did you make that clear?" Gwen widened her eyes, trying to appear pathetic.
Jack shrugged. "No, I..."
"You sent him to get Gwen's cleaning?" Owen snorted and nudged Tosh with his elbow. "Someone won't get shagged tonight."
"Why? He picks mine up!" Jack protested.
"Yours, Jack. He's your administrator and P.A. not Gwen's. I'd never ask him to pick mine up." Tosh shot a glare at Gwen. "He told you last time that was not part of his duties so you went to Jack and got him to ask didn't you?"
Jack narrowed his eyes at Gwen. "You didn't tell me that."
"She shouldn't have to you wanker," Owen laughed.
"Jack, he was only going to get Thai and pick up the cleaning, right?"
Jack squirmed in his seat. "Well..."
"Thai?" Owen shook his head. "When Jack asked what I wanted I said Chinese."
"And fish and chips for me," Jack said, looking guilty.
"I wanted a salad," Gwen sighed.
"So he had to go get fish and chips for Jack, Thai for me, Chinese for Owen, a salad for Gwen and pick up her cleaning?" Tosh shook her head. "You're unbelievable Jack, and every last one of us deserve decaf."
The sounds of the sirens as the cog door rolled back silenced them all.
"Oi, wankers! Her's your fucking lunch you worthless bloody twats!"
They piled out of Jack's office and down the stairs to stand dumbfounded, staring a rather disheveled and obviously intoxicated Ianto Jones.
"Owen! Fucking annoying braying twat! Here's your Chinese! Hope you choke on it!" Ianto separated a bag from the pile that he had dropped at his feet and threw it at the medic. "Tosh! Thai! Couldn't be Chinese, right? Nooooooooooooo, gotta be fucking Thai!" He didn't throw that one with as much force but Tosh squeaked when she caught it. "Gwen! Here's your fucking salad, pet!" He threw another bag but this one didn't make it, the top opened and the container must have as well. Leafy greens rained down and it must have amused Ianto to no end because he was snorting with laughter. "Oops! Try grazing you bloody cow! And just so you know, I will not pick up your bloody cleaning again, pet.": He had to get hold of the slippery plastic covering the clothes twice before he was able to fling them at her. "Oh, and one more thing." He pointed a finger in her general direction. "I am not your fucking pet. Call me pet one more time and I'm going to jam a bloody biro in that gap in your teeth!" he snarled. He leaned forward and got a grip on the bag that contained the bundled fish and chips. "Your lunch, sir! Fish and chip, right?" He threw it at Jack and then promptly gave him a rather wavering indecent gesture involving his middle finger. "Fucking twat, you wanna shag something tonight you'd better go home with Owen." There was one more bag and he carefully leaned to get it, reaching inside and pulling out a bottle of what appeared to be Scotch. "Now, I am going to finish my lunch. You want coffee? Pfft." he staggered across the Hub toward the corridor which lead to the archives, swaying as he walked.
No one said a word. They stood there, some clutching their lunch, others looking sadly at the salad spread round the floor.
"Jack?"
"Tosh?"
"Good luck."
"Thanks." Taking a deep breath, Jack cuddled his fish and chips a little closer to his chest and headed toward the archives in the hope of, if nothing else, getting a drink or two of the Scotch.
He had a feeling he was really gonna need it.