Ianto was sitting on the couch about to start a film when there was a knock on the door. He wasn't expecting anyone, but he had a good idea on who it was. He padded across the living room barefoot, only in trackpants and a t-shirt, and opened the front door. Jack smiled before walking past him heading towards the kitchen.
"I brought Chinese and paperwork, your two favorite things," Jack said over his shoulder. It was two weeks into Ianto's time at home during his suspension. Jack had made an effort to make an appearance at least once a day, for as long as the rift allowed and the few days that wasn't possible, he called several times.
"Your brought paperwork?" Ianto asked, closing the door.
"I'm drowning in it. Owen hasn't even bothered. Keeps muttering that it's below his pay grade, or something like that."
"Tell Owen it's his job and exactly what he gets paid for," Ianto sat down on the couch. He could hear Jack running around his kitchen, looking for plates. When Jack finally emerged he had both dinners in his hands and a stack of paperwork. "What did you order?"
"Number 4. That's what you told me before, right?" Jack said, placing the plates down and flopping down next to Ianto on the couch.
"That's your order, but I'll take it." Ianto took a bite. "So what did you bring me?"
"Old reports, things for UNIT, the budget. I have no idea what any of it means."
Ianto opened the file and began to read.
"Ianto? This is okay right? I mean, you doing this. I know you are on suspension and all but-"
"I haven't done anything for two weeks now, sir. I'm going to go crazy soon," Ianto said, still reading the file.
"Only if you're sure," Jack sighed, leaning back into the couch. "What movie do you have in?"
"Casino Royale," Ianto muttered.
"Nice."
Jack continued to mutter over the movie, but Ianto wasn't really listening anymore. He was too absorbed in the reports. Work, it was numbing. It demanded attention. It was all consuming. Exactly what he wanted. Sure, he put on a smile when Jack came, but he never stayed longer than an hour, so that left another 23 of self pitying and time to think of the hypotheticals and the what ifs. Work took time, and concentration. Something that he had plenty of and wanted to give. He wasn't Ianto Jones when he was doing work. He was a machine, with an input and an output. Jack thought this was useless and boring, but he couldn't be more wrong. This was the medicine Ianto needed and he couldn't wait to get back to work.
Ianto turned the page. These weather reports looked interesting.