Stimulus: Excuses

Spoilers: None

POV: Ianto's

Dedication: This dedication is split two ways: one, to India, my 'lesbian lover' and Zorgagafoolian chum; two, to Caspar, who is fun to bully. Awwwww… poor ghost boy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood. I do, however, own the excuses below. VERY proud of them, I might add!

AN: So proud of this. I'm posting it to celebrate the fact that I FINALLY UNDERSTAND MEIOSIS! YES!! High fives all the way around :)

-x-

It had started… so simply. So, so simply, even Ianto hadn't seen it coming.

"Hey," Jack had said, grinning in that way that the Welshman now knows not to trust. That innocent way. How could a smile so innocent turn out so… so… wrong? "I'm expecting a call later – I hope you don't mind answering it for me? Just tell 'em I'm busy, 'kay?"

Ok, he'd said, and smiled right back.

Oh, how naïve he'd been!

The call came when he was making coffee. It had been so easy to pick up the phone and say 'sorry, Captain Jack is busy.'

But then they'd phoned again. And again. And again. Tens and tens of different people, all with the sole intention of contacting the allusive Captain Jack Harkness.

And there's only so many times you can say the words 'he's busy' in one day without wanting to kill yourself.

"He's at a funeral."

"He's at a party."

"He's babysitting."

"He's married."

"He's an arsehole."

"He's an alien from the planet Zorg."

"He's a witch. Yeah."

"He's a lesbian. Oh, didn't you know? Too bad."

"I'm sorry. I don't speak English."

"He's involved in a private yet passionate affair with Gordon Brown, who enjoys taking it up the – hello? Hello?"

"He only likes sheep."

"He's got a husband who is an alien called Rabagaluga. He's the commander of many Zorgian Battle Ships and is the Zorg champion in all things related to arm wrestling (he has twenty six arms on each side), the most defeats of all things ghostly and has three hundred awards in orgasmicness alone. I'm telling you this for your own safety. No, listen. Ok, you hang up – but when Rabagaluga knocks on your door, don't come running to me."

"Flagaboonada? Jambanoogadoolally. Gaaahnaaa... habadeneesalabah fanataheebah?"

"He's dead."

"He's dead. Poisoned coffee."

"He's dead. Weevil attack. What? What's a Weevil? Um…"

"Pteradon attack. No, not Pterodactyl, Pteradon. Extinct? Yeah. Try telling him that."

"He's dead. Angry butler."

"Strangled with his own breeches."

And then, Ianto's personal favourite:

"Why don't I just give you his mobile number?"