Ah, I finally I have a new idea! My oneshot ideas have pretty much run dry, especially since I recently finished my big ol' project. But no! I have pulled something, inspired after looking over some Torchwood fanarts on deviantArt. So, the premise? Ianto compiles a to-do list for his Torchwood duties. Each chapter will be about one of the ten things he lists. So it will be ten chapters long. I only intended this to be a oneshot at first, but you don't mind, do you?

Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood. Ever. Terrible grammar. Yes. Ever. And ever.

Ianto had noticed from day one that the Hub's cleanliness was beyond redemption. That didn't mean he couldn't try making it any better. His real duties had already started (if you could call them duties…). Mostly, he made coffee. Otherwise, he'd be in the archives, trying to figure out where to start or up in the tourist centre, greeting the average 3.5 people a day. Sometimes, Ianto disliked statistics. How do you end up with 3.5 people? One would think that at least one person walked in carrying a pair of dismembered human legs every day. Another thing that made little to no sense: how, after having a pterodactyl (who was, in fact, a fast learner and was already behaving like a somewhat non-violent prehistoric animal) for three weeks, the Hub floor was not littered with various pterodactyl wastes?

Ianto'd have to do something about that later. He put it on his mental list. 1) Attempt to clean however many decades worth of filth while there is time to do so. May or may not include scraping alien slime from the walls. 2) Make coffee. 3) Avoid Owen. It is now established that he can be particularly nasty. 4) Investigate Myfanwy and how her fecal matter seems to just be disappearing. Look further into the suspicion that one of the team is using questionable alien technology to keep waste from landing on their desks. Prime suspect: Owen. 5) Ignore number three, due to the fact that because Owen is a suspect in misuse of Torchwood tech, he will have to be confronted. 6) Ask Jack why something must be added to the SUV. It has enough already, almost to the point of being gaudy. 7) Make coffee. Again. Regardless of differences, this is still Torchwood. But apparently, Torchwood Three members have at least 75 percent caffeine in their blood… Compared to Torchwood One's measly 35 percent. 8) Buy a notebook of sorts, preferably one of those small, black, flip-over ones. Good memory or not, a written list might be a bit more convenient. 9) Remind Jack about the paperwork that needs to be finished. 10) Repeat number one if failed the first time. If a notebook is indeed purchased and in possession, let this list become the last will and testament of this Ianto Jones. Suspicions that the unidentifiable pile of rotting rot that has been festering in the corner may be alive and willing to eat anything seeming very plausible at this moment.

If I am eaten, let it be known that the coffee machine should remain untouched after my parting. I've become quite attached to it and I'd rather not have it blown up when I'm gone…

Ianto sighed. He really needed to shorten those mental lists. He would have to remember to write it down when possible.

Some time afterwards, Ianto found himself, feather duster in hand, scouring the entire hub for dust. Despite the fact that they were at a highly advanced secret alien catching organization, he had not, as of yet, found any cleaning implement other than the ratty feather duster. In reality, it was little more than a few artificial feathers on a stick. Somehow, Ianto found it baffling how that was the only thing that could be used to clean the Hub. There wasn't even a vacuum cleaner! Being that this was the first time Ianto had a chance to clean up around the Hub since he joined, he would have to remember to buy a vacuum cleaner, heavy duty bleach, and numerous other cleaning products.

Dejectedly, Ianto stared at the near-useless feather duster and sighed. This would take up the whole day!

Jack'sofficeJack'sofficeJack'sofficeJack'soffice! Oh, how much Ianto wanted to avoid that room. As amazing as it smelled (just like Jack), that place was a danger zone, and Ianto was sure he'd emerge with some kind of fatal injury, if he came out at all. There was no way to be sure what was in Jack's office.

Slowly, Ianto pushed the door open, the hinges creaking ever so slightly. He imagined himself in an old fashioned horror film: A black and white Ianto stares nervously into the dark abyss that is Jack's office. He gulps, clutching the feather duster tight to his chest, eyes wide. Ominous music plays in the background, telling the audience that something terrible will happen. Ianto wipes sweat from his forehead taking a tentative step forward… Another step… He is almost engulfed in shadow… Suddenly, he is pulled completely into the darkness and never seen again. The others of the team come looking for him sometime later, but all they can find is an abandoned feather duster covered in the Welshman's blood…

Ianto shook his head, banishing the ridiculous thoughts. It couldn't be that bad. True, he'd been in there a few times, nearly crying at the mess, but how hard could it be? It wasn't like he would find a weevil in a dress named Gonzales hiding on one of the shelves, ready to engage him in a semi-naked masked wrestling fight before he could even think of eradicating the dust bunnies, who, by the way, would be cheering Gonzales on.

Once again, Ianto shook his head furiously. He was starting to believe that he was spending too much time at work. The Torchwood fumes (for he was sure there were some) were getting to his brain. Either that, or Owen had spiked his drink with a psychotropic drug. The latter being far less likely.

Bravely, the Welsh tea-boy took a step into Jack's office. Surprisingly, it was cleaner than he's remembered it. The only problem was how everything had a thin layer of dust covering them. It was now apparent that Jack was a pack rat. He got the junk, touching it only once or twice afterwards, leaving it to gather dust.

Ianto sighed once more, staring disparagingly at the worn duster. Would it be up to the challenge?

Hesitantly, Ianto began the grueling task of cleaning the office. The continuous motion of the feather duster was making him sleepy. Back forth back forth back forth… His eyes were drooping. He really should not have stayed up all night filing those papers. It came to the point where Ianto was no longer aware of what he was dusting. Unconsciously, he swept over every surface of Jack's office. He was at the final section when he accidentally knocked something down. Ianto gasped, discarding the feather duster to save the fallen object. He was still the newbie and there was no way he'd let himself get on Jack's bad graces. Unfortunately, Ianto had very bad luck. In the second he had to rescue the object, he saw what it was. There was a cylindrical container with bubbling blue liquid in it. Inside the bubbling liquid was a hand. A human hand.

"Ah!" Ianto reeled backwards impulsively, allowing the glass container to shatter.

The unidentified fluid splashed over his new shoes, soaking them through. At that point Ianto didn't care. Instead, he was staring at the wet, twitching, severed human hand. He was starting to have serious doubts about the pros of joining Torchwood Three. If the leader was crazy, keeping hands in his office, was it really a good idea to stick around?

"Ianto! What the hell did you do?!" Ianto heard Jack's voice cry. His head whipped around to face his boss. Jack was standing in the door, staring, aghast, at Ianto. He must have heard the crash.

"I'm-" Ianto started. He was about to apologize when he realized something. He watched as Jack ran to the hand, cradling it in his own. "Sir? Why do you have a… a hand?"

Jack, now kneeling near Ianto, looked up and glared at him. "What were you doing?"

"I was cleaning! I accidentally knocked it over," Ianto defended. "Why do you have a hand?" he asked again, slightly scared of what the answer would be.

Jack exhaled loudly. "This is… This is very, very important to me. That's all you need to know," he said quietly. His face was dead serious.

Ashamedly, Ianto focused on his soaked feet. "I'm so sorry, sir. If I'd known it was important, I'd have been more careful." He felt bad for assuming the worst about Jack. This was Torchwood, for God's sake. There were bound to be weird things. Right? Right.

Great job, by the way; getting on the boss's bad side, Ianto thought cynically.

Jack shook his head. "It's fine." He then looked up, eyes locking with Ianto's. A sudden, wide grin spread across Jack's face. "As long as you give me something later in return," he purred sultrily. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Immediately, Ianto got to his feet, rushing to the door. Of course. He should've known Jack would do something like that. He'd been setting himself up for that.

This is for Lisa, this is for Lisa, this is for Lisa, this is for Lisa, Ianto repeated over in his head like a mantra as he sped from Jack's office o' doom. He could feel his face burning as he contemplated how he simply knew something would go wrong and why he bothered in the first place, seeing as he knew it would end in disaster.

He kept his eyes glued to the floor, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone. Of course, that meant he was bound to run into someone. That someone being Toshiko.

The Japanese woman let out a squeak of surprise, as she had not been paying attention either. Both of them fell to the ground.

"Sorry, sorry," Ianto muttered. Three weeks of Torchwood, and Ianto had yet to say more than two sentences to the woman. In his defense, she talked to him even less.

"No, my fault," she assured. She looked up at the Welshman. "Are you okay? You look a little…"

Ianto realized his face must've still been red. "I'm fine." He pulled himself up, offering a hand to Toshiko. "I was going to make coffee," he said, recalling number two of his mental list. "I assume you'll be wanting a cup?"

Tosh pat down her clothes, straightening them. "Yes, thank you."

Ianto nodded as Toshiko returned to her computers. "Coming right up," he muttered under his breath.

He let out a great sigh. Task one: Failed. To be revisited. Task two: Make coffee.

And there we have it! The first chapter, and probably the longest, of my new ten chapter fic! Yay!

It took me like a week to write this. I've not taken this long since I was in middle school! Anyhoo, I think the next one's coming tomorrow or the day after. I'm really eager to write it.

By the way, Gonzales was mentioned in a fic of mine that I wrote before, except that he was wearing a wig and lipstick. Lovely image, no? I never got to putting it up, because I think it still needs serious revamping. You might see it sometime. I dunno.

Review please!