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vocab_drabblesTitle: Collision of Past and Present
Fandom: Torchwood
Author: Cat Moon
Rating: M (adult topic)
Words: 544
Characters/Pairing: Ianto, referenced Jack/Ianto
Summary: Ianto is not at all pleased with Agnes Havisham and her insulting language, but he has a new way to process his anger.
Notes: Also fills my WIP February Bingo Card space, "Finish a WIP you're scared of." I'm not exactly scared… (perhaps a bit leery of the response). I wrote most of it a year ago and never finished, and I wasn't sure I wanted to. It's an unpleasant topic, really. But I guess I had to get some stuff out that bugged me from the novel. I did not find it amusing. If you liked Agnes, you may want to skip this. I did not, nor did I appreciate certain comments.
Probably best to consider this a Risk Assessment (TW novel) AU. I read the book a long time ago, so I'm going by my vague memory of it (and the one thing that did stick in my mind). I don't know where my copy is, as it seems I never unpacked it from my last move. So, I'm not really sure this scene could fit into it anywhere.
Every now and then, Gwen had a good idea.
As he slammed his fists into the punching bag set up in his spare room, Ianto admitted that it was exceedingly cathartic to be able to get out his feelings through a bit of harmless violence. After all, there couldn't always be rogue Weevils or invading aliens when one needed to let off steam. Not even for Torchwood.
Ianto had been surprised at the suggestion from Gwen, but the new addition was working out well. It was beneficial to come home to, on those days when he'd had more than enough of Owen's snide quips at his expense; it helped keep the benign smile in place. At least until he'd started giving back as well as he got. It was more a game now than an annoyance… well, most of the time.
Then there were times when Jack would drive Ianto around the bend with frustration at his secrets, his inability to take some things seriously, and all the other issues between them…
Today, though, his anger wasn't directed at any of his co-workers.
"What the fuck," he spat, aiming a perfect right cross into the middle of the bag. It wasn't that he minded being underestimated – it often worked in his favor. And he was used to disparaging comments. It's just that this one hit differently, and he hadn't been able to voice any of the stormy reaction.
Catamite.
Ianto knew Agnes was from a time when things were different. Still, the word was an insult and a lie. Indeed, it was calumniating both himself and Jack as well.
Ianto threw a left cross, but it was slightly off-center.
Ianto was a grown adult, fully capable of making his own decisions and consenting to his own relationships, thank you very much. Not to mention that it was he who'd hounded Jack into giving him a job. He who'd initiated every step in their budding relationship.
He supposed one could argue that there was an age gap between them, but finding someone their own age is impossible when someone is an immortal who can't die permanently.
Almost impossible.
Ianto sent a flurry of fists into the bag. Those kinds of thoughts would lead down a road he didn't want to visit right now. He wanted to focus on being angry with Agnes.
Ianto was a fully-fledged field member of the team. Not a teaboy, nor a catamite.
Then there were the stereotypes that Ianto was thoroughly sick of. He grinned as he imagined informing Agnes that it was Jack who was the shameless bottom in their relationship. Let her stew on that for a while.
Risk assessor?! As if they hadn't been in worse situations in the past with hide nor hair of the annoying anachronistic Agnes Havisham. The idea that now, of all times… well, it was suspicious, wasn't it? Ianto decided he didn't trust it one bit. Perhaps there was more to Agnes than met the eye?
Jack was running scared, and Gwen was confused. So, it fell to Ianto to keep a close eye on this so-called risk assessor. Just in case.
After a final left hook to the punching bag, Ianto tossed off his gloves and went to take a shower.
FIN
Fandom: Torchwood
Author: Cat Moon
Rating: M (adult topic)
Words: 544
Characters/Pairing: Ianto, referenced Jack/Ianto
Summary: Ianto is not at all pleased with Agnes Havisham and her insulting language, but he has a new way to process his anger.
Notes: Also fills my WIP February Bingo Card space, "Finish a WIP you're scared of." I'm not exactly scared… (perhaps a bit leery of the response). I wrote most of it a year ago and never finished, and I wasn't sure I wanted to. It's an unpleasant topic, really. But I guess I had to get some stuff out that bugged me from the novel. I did not find it amusing. If you liked Agnes, you may want to skip this. I did not, nor did I appreciate certain comments.
Probably best to consider this a Risk Assessment (TW novel) AU. I read the book a long time ago, so I'm going by my vague memory of it (and the one thing that did stick in my mind). I don't know where my copy is, as it seems I never unpacked it from my last move. So, I'm not really sure this scene could fit into it anywhere.
Every now and then, Gwen had a good idea.
As he slammed his fists into the punching bag set up in his spare room, Ianto admitted that it was exceedingly cathartic to be able to get out his feelings through a bit of harmless violence. After all, there couldn't always be rogue Weevils or invading aliens when one needed to let off steam. Not even for Torchwood.
Ianto had been surprised at the suggestion from Gwen, but the new addition was working out well. It was beneficial to come home to, on those days when he'd had more than enough of Owen's snide quips at his expense; it helped keep the benign smile in place. At least until he'd started giving back as well as he got. It was more a game now than an annoyance… well, most of the time.
Then there were times when Jack would drive Ianto around the bend with frustration at his secrets, his inability to take some things seriously, and all the other issues between them…
Today, though, his anger wasn't directed at any of his co-workers.
"What the fuck," he spat, aiming a perfect right cross into the middle of the bag. It wasn't that he minded being underestimated – it often worked in his favor. And he was used to disparaging comments. It's just that this one hit differently, and he hadn't been able to voice any of the stormy reaction.
Catamite.
Ianto knew Agnes was from a time when things were different. Still, the word was an insult and a lie. Indeed, it was calumniating both himself and Jack as well.
Ianto threw a left cross, but it was slightly off-center.
Ianto was a grown adult, fully capable of making his own decisions and consenting to his own relationships, thank you very much. Not to mention that it was he who'd hounded Jack into giving him a job. He who'd initiated every step in their budding relationship.
He supposed one could argue that there was an age gap between them, but finding someone their own age is impossible when someone is an immortal who can't die permanently.
Almost impossible.
Ianto sent a flurry of fists into the bag. Those kinds of thoughts would lead down a road he didn't want to visit right now. He wanted to focus on being angry with Agnes.
Ianto was a fully-fledged field member of the team. Not a teaboy, nor a catamite.
Then there were the stereotypes that Ianto was thoroughly sick of. He grinned as he imagined informing Agnes that it was Jack who was the shameless bottom in their relationship. Let her stew on that for a while.
Risk assessor?! As if they hadn't been in worse situations in the past with hide nor hair of the annoying anachronistic Agnes Havisham. The idea that now, of all times… well, it was suspicious, wasn't it? Ianto decided he didn't trust it one bit. Perhaps there was more to Agnes than met the eye?
Jack was running scared, and Gwen was confused. So, it fell to Ianto to keep a close eye on this so-called risk assessor. Just in case.
After a final left hook to the punching bag, Ianto tossed off his gloves and went to take a shower.
FIN
