A/N: After the violence and angst of the last few chapters, this one sees a return to the light-hearted humour of my prievious work (ie. chapters 1-4) this is the sort of pattern my work tends to go in. Humour, violence & angst, humour, violence & angst, etc. If you ask me, this chapter borders on sickeningly fluffy, but, as I've said before, I have no real control over what I write. The story is doing this on it's own, I swear!
Amelia McDermid: As always, I'm glad you liked the previous chapter, this one's more of the same.
Hazelayes: I too feel that Ianto is underappreciated (having to constantly supply Jack with coffee and sex, though enjoyable, must be exhausting, even for a stud like him). As for my energy? Well, school got out a little while ago, and I just moved from Canberra to Melbourne last Sunday (which is a loooong way, by the way) so I have like, all this free time, and no friends to spend it with. And the honesty? I have no idea, in fact, sometimes, I concoct elaborate lies for kicks! (I once told a friend that Jack the Ripper videotaped his crimes, and she believed me. And I've lost count of the number of times I pretended to be dying.) And you're right, I am quite young, or at least, younger than most of the people reviewing this (I've checked their profiles). I turn eighteen on the twenty-sixth of December.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Torchwood. Believe me, if I did, I certainly wouldn't be writing this. I'd be doing whatever Russel T. Davies is doing right now, which (since he's only writing one episode for season two), is probably nothing.
WARNING: Apart from a potentially lethal dose of fluff, probably nothing. Fluff-nausea can be easily treated with a dose of any of the following: Violence, Angst or Smut. If symptoms persist, consult your pharmacist.
NINE: THE MORNING AFTER
Sunlight streamed through the window, striking the partially open blinds and splitting into numerous tributaries. One such ray fell directly across Alex's face, penetrating his closed eyelids, causing searing light to explode in the dark recesses of his sleeping mind. He rolled onto his stomach, burying his face into a soft, cool pillow in an attempt to block out the unwelcome intrusion. His eyes snapped open as his brain suddenly realized what his body already knew. He sat up, struggling to recall the events of last night. His memory grew a little fuzzy towards the end, but he was pretty sure that downy softness had not featured overmuch.
As an afterthought, he flung out an arm to either side of him, running them up and down the length of the bed, as far as he could reach. Nothing met his touch, save for the smooth glide of cotton sheets beneath his hands. Looking around him, he saw that he was, in fact, lying on top of the bed, and, looking down at himself, that he was still clothed, to a degree. So, as near as he could figure, sex had not played a large role either. He let himself flop, boneless, back onto the bed, but was soon writhing restlessly, unable to relax enough to get back to sleep. With a sigh of defeat, he stood and walked across the room to a floor length mirror, taking in his appearance.
The cut across his cheek had already healed, with only a faint white line as proof it had ever existed. He peeled of his t-shirt, and saw that his torso was wrapped in tight bandages. Fumbling awkwardly behind his back, he set to work unwinding it, letting it coil around his feet like a snakeskin. Once done, he was pleased to see that whatever visible signs of injury he had sustained seemed to have faded completely.
"Outside looks good," he stretched his arms above his head before bringing them convulsively back down to clutch at his stomach "Inside, not so much." He turned away from the mirror and headed for the window, hoping to get some idea of his location. The view was truly spectacular; the entire city was laid out before him, like a board game. Already, the beginnings of an escape plan were beginning to materialize. He turned on his heel and padded across the carpet, taking care to avoid making any noise.
Ianto was woken from his fitful sleep by a heavy thud that reverberated through the floor. Groaning irritably, he swung his bare legs off the couch and shuffled to the bedroom, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his palms. His mind had been plagued with obscene images of Alex, flushed, needy, moaning and thrashing under him, eyes darkened by desire. That, combined with the fact that a small, two-seater sofa was not particularly conducive to peaceful slumber, had made for a very bad night indeed. He pushed the bedroom door open to see Alex, almost naked and on all fours, picking himself up off the floor. He looked up at Ianto, who suddenly became very aware that he, too, was only wearing boxers.
"Did I wake you?"
"Yes, actually." Ianto replied, too tired to be polite. The sight of Alex was enough to cause all those images to return, with a vengeance.
"Sorry about that," Alex grinned sheepishly, raking a hand through deliciously disheveled hair "I tripped over my shoes." He held one up as proof.
"Well, as long as you're okay, I'm going to go take a shower. Feel free to fix yourself something to eat." Ianto turned abruptly from the room.
Alex waited until he heard the squeaking of a faucet, followed by the rush rush of running water before he made his way out to the lounge/kitchen area, all thoughts of escape forgotton. White carpet, white couch, white walls, it hurt to look anywhere. A few feet from the couch was a mahogany coffee table, the only thing with any colour in it. Alex traced the pattern less chaos of the tabletop with his index finger, stopping when it made contact with a small photo frame. Picking it up, Alex took in the image of a casually dressed Ianto with a wide smile. The contrast was a bit of a shock, but not compared to the woman that photo-Ianto had his arms around.
Alex glanced around the apartment. It was definitely a single man's apartment. He had seen the apartments of enough single men in his young life to know one when he saw it. But the woman in the photo was definitely a girlfriend, no question. There was no way she could be mistaken for a relative. The relationship must be fairly new, Alex concluded, if Ianto had been willing to take him in for the night. But, if he had a framed photo of her, he must also care about her a lot.
"Ah well, plenty of fish, etcetera." Alex mumbled to himself, taking care to place the photo exactly how he'd found it. He was surprised to find that he wasn't nearly as disappointed as he might have imagined but, hey, compared to everything else that was going on with his life, finding out his crush was taken was small bananas. And speaking of bananas, there was a rather enticing fruit basket sitting on the bench, not five feet away.
"Besides," Alex reminded himself aloud as he began peeling the biggest one he could find "if I get really desperate, I could always- ooh, grapes!"
After satisfying his fruit cravings, Alex set about looking for something else. Anything that required actual cooking was out of the question. Cooking was another thing that a kid like Alex was never taught. So…that ruled out pancakes, bacon, or any kind of eggs, which left…cereal. Hurrah. Not.
"C'mon, there's got to be something." Alex shut the fridge with a huff of disappointment, so absorbed in his search for food that he only saw the loaf of bread out of the corner of his eye. He paused. Bread. He could do something with that…toast! He remembered toast! Toast was easy; you just put bread in the toaster and toast came out, what could go wrong?
Ianto was standing in front of the mirror, toweling his hair when his ears were suddenly assaulted by a harsh, piercing wail. Cursing, he wrapped the towel about his waist and ran out into the lounge room. He was met by the spectacle of Alex standing on his coffee table, toying with the smoke detector in his ceiling. Ianto clapped his hands over his ears.
"What are you doing?" Ianto shouted.
"What?" Alex yelled back "I can't hear you!"
"I said" Ianto took a deep breath, cupping his hands around his mouth "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
"I STILL CAN'T-" The noise petered away with a distorted squeal as the smoke detector came away in Alex's hand "ah, that's better. Now, what were you trying to say?"
"Alex," Ianto sighed in resignation "what did you do?"
"I made toast," The boy replied, seemingly unable to comprehend the trouble he had caused "see?" Ianto looked at the plate Alex was holding.
"It's charcoal."
"Whatever," Alex dismissed Ianto's comment with a wave "I made it, and I'm going to eat it." Ianto snatched the plate from Alex before he could poison himself with benzopyrene.
"Sit there and don't move," Ianto pointed to the couch, Alex obeyed "I'll make us something." Ianto walked to the kitchen, dumping the 'toast' in the bin on the way. After a quick survey of ingredients, he turned back to Alex, who was having trouble sitting still. "How about an omelet?" He asked.
"That depends; what is it?"
Ianto watched Alex as he ate. The boy had cleaned his plate a while ago, and was on his second glass of milk. The sudden lack of fruit hadn't escaped his notice either; he made a mental note to buy more on the way home. The Welshman suppressed a shudder as Alex lowered the glass, revealing a newly grown milk moustache, and had to bite the inside of his cheek to suppress a moan when a moist, pink tongue flicked out to wipe it away.
"Well, thanks for that. I'll just get my clothes and get out of your hair."
"Huh?" Ianto had been too busy watching Alex's mouth to listen to what he'd been saying.
"I'm going to get dressed, and I'm going to leave." He enunciated clearly, as if speaking to a child.
"No."
"Whaddaya mean 'no'?" Alex demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Jack wants me to bring you back to the Hub."
"Why?"
"The supernatural is our business."
"I thought your business was aliens."
"That too." They stared at each other for a long time, neither one blinking.
"You realize I could kill you with out batting an eyelid?" Alex asked, just in case Ianto somehow failed to understand the predicament he was in.
"I did know that, yes." More staring.
"Can I at least shower first?" Ianto inclined his head in agreement; Alex rolled his eyes before heading to the bathroom. "Fine."
TBC
A/N: Rejoice, my readers! The ordeal is over and, if you're reading this, you're one of the lucky few who survived. Don't feel obliged to review this particular chapter, but I will gladly read any comments you're willing to throw my way. Seriously. I'm like a duck, whoring itself out for breadcrumbs. I need you to validate my worth as a person, no one else will do it! Not even my mother. If the reviews stop, I may very well kill something just to get attention! No pressure.
