Ch3: Eyes That Won't Quite Meet
Torchwood: Outside the government, beyond the police. Fighting for the future on behalf of the human race…
But today just isn't the day. It's quite a lazy day at Torchwood Three, where most days are marginally exhilarating. Pizzas, coffees, amplified innuendos (courtesy of Captain Jack Harkness himself), but no rift activity. Almost lunchtime and all of them still sitting with thumbs up their asses with practically nothing to do, save Tosh (who's currently studying the DNA latching of Arcadian hydroelectric nanobombs.)
Jack feels welcome by all means to the Torchwood team, bar Janto. There's that feeling that he can't easily shake off - that there's something borderline suspicious about how Janto acts toward him. And with that, Jack glided towards the coffeemaker and approached Janto, thinking of a way to force a small talk. He needed to know who he is, pronto.
"Hey, can I…" Jack started.
"Coffee supply down and I guess that's all the excitement we're getting today." Janto motioned for the coffeemaker without addressing anyone in particular, his face deadpan. "I'm getting outta here. People, contact me if you needed anything."
"Don't ever use your bloody motorcycle again, Firebird. Throttling the SUV is one thing, but motorcycles…" Gwen warned, her pointer finger waving threateningly.
"Don't worry, Gwen. My suit won't crinkle a bit!" He swerved off the coat rack and snatched his military coat, exiting the rolling door with a wink for everyone.
"My god, he's crazy." Tosh shakes her head, smiling.
"Harkness-kind-of-crazy." Owen quipped. Jack protested.
Gwen let out a frustrating sigh and threw her hands off the air. "That kid! If he attempts to put down a Weevil by his own again, I'll bloody kill him with my bare hands!"
"Won't be out more than twenty!" Janto's yell echoed through the corridor.
Needless to say, overspeeding is Janto's forte. He returned more or less than ten minutes later from the nearest grocery (which takes more than ten minutes to get there), with a huge tower of brown paper bags in his arms.
"Janto Jones, king of the Cardiff roads… Did you know I have a thing for fast drivers?" Jack sneered while motioning to take Janto's paper bags, but he shook Jack's hands off.
Jack merely shrugged, while the King of the Cardiff roads made his (difficult) way to the pantry, still evidently ignoring Jack.
"Tosh, Dad woke up yet whilst I'm away?" Janto called from the pantry.
"Nope, still not a word from him. Time will come, dear."
"And how about that hydroelectric nanobombs of yours?"
"I removed all the DNA latches on it, which reminds me… Be careful trotting down your coffee machine, I kept the bombs on that new box just beside the railing. Don't spill coffee on them!"
"Funny thing with nanobombs is, they just pop. They don't explode, which is kinda lame, actually." Janto stated, still talking loudly.
"Wrong! Unlatched hydroelectric nanobombs are safe unless they're submerged in water. They'll activate and electrocute the nearest life form nearest them with just a pop." Jack shouted back.
There was a loud clatter of tin cans and saucepans from the pantry, followed by a loud curse and an exasperated groan from Janto. Jack rushed hurriedly into the pantry and pulled Janto off from under the fallen cabinet.
"Easy there, gorgeous." Jack smirked, still holding Janto's arm.
"No sweat! I'm okay!" Janto shrugged off Jack's hand on his arm, straightened his suit and shouted back to Tosh. "Time would better be near! He promised to me. He promised us. You know he never, ever breaks his promises."
"Huh. I was expecting a 'thank you for saving me, Captain' or something…" Jack sneered.
"I am pretty sure I am capable of handling these, Captain Harkness." Janto replied indignantly in return.
Jack shrugged and left the pantry, his eyebrows fairly reaching his hairlines. He never expected a handsome man like Janto would be that resilient. Fuck that schmoozing up to get on Janto Jones's good books. Time to do it the Captain Jack Harkness way, guns blazing!
The third time Jack attempted to lure Janto was when he was writing in his leather-bound book again. It remarkably looks much like the diary his Ianto keeps.
Almond-shaped blue eyes, steep nose, prominent cheekbones, perfectly curved lips, heartbreakingly smooth Welsh accent, familiar eyebrows furrowing in confusion, the knack for making heavenly coffee – all that strange traits, combined with the well-kept leather-bound diary…
Ever-so-seriously, Jack pulled out an antique golden stopwatch and a picture of him kissing the cheeks of a grinning Ianto from his coat pocket and showed it to Janto, asking him the question that was bugging him for the last 43 hours.
"Do you, by chance, happen to know someone that goes by the name Ianto Jones?"