Characters: Ianto, Lisa.
Spoilers: Maybe a few minor hints at Cyberwoman and Fragments. Set pre-series.
Summary: Ianto is head over heels in love with someone who’s his complete opposite in almost every way.
Word Count: 867
Written For: Prompt #037 – Opposites Attract, at fandomweekly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
Two people, one reserved and the other outgoing, one meticulous, the other haphazard, one tidy, the other messy; it shouldn’t work, and yet it did. It confounded Ianto how he could be so irresistibly drawn to someone who was his complete opposite. Surely someone with similar values, habits, and ideals would be a better match for him; he knew several people that fit the bill, but for some reason there was no attraction there. That’s not to say he didn’t like them well enough, but there was just no spark, no breathlessness in their presence, no skipped heartbeats, no magnetism…
Opposites attract; he’d used to think that saying was a load of crap, but now he was starting to wonder. Despite how infuriating he often found the object of his affections, he knew he was well and truly hooked. Why else would he be here, in a noisy, smoky club, dancing to techno music he loathed? What was it his mother had said once years ago, after he’d overheard a violent argument between his parents right before his dad had stormed out to go and get drunk? You can’t help who you love. That was it. It was one of the truest things he’d ever heard.
Like light and dark, night and day, that’s what people said about them. He hadn’t planned on falling for Lisa, with her flirty behaviour, her larger-than-life personality, her pigsty of an apartment, and her atrocious taste in music, but somehow it had happened despite his better judgement, and now they’d been together almost six months. He still couldn’t believe it.
There he’d been, new to Torchwood, a complete klutz, blushing like crazy after he’d accidentally knocked her down and fallen on top of her… He’d expected her to be as embarrassed as he was, or furious at him for not watching where he was going, but instead she’d found the whole incident hilarious, and she never tired of telling people that they’d fallen for each other at first sight.
What did she even see in him? He wasn’t much of a talker, and he didn’t particularly like dancing; he only took her to clubs because he knew how much she loved losing herself in the rhythm of the too-loud music. She was stunning to watch, sinuous and sensual, while he could barely do more than shuffle his feet, wave his arms about, often nearly hitting people, and sway a bit. He much preferred slow dancing, her arms around his neck, his around her deliciously curvaceous body, the spicy scent of her perfume in his nose. It was a heady experience, and nights out dancing usually led to them hurrying home to whichever of their flats was the closest.
Even their homes were a complete contrast. Ianto’s little flat, the top floor of a terraced house, was spotless; he had a place for everything, and everything in its place. Lisa had a place for everything in her modern high rise flat too; on the floor, under the furniture, anywhere but where things should be. Her wardrobe was practically empty and she usually had to iron something to wear each day. Dirty mugs lurked on the windowsills, hidden behind the curtains, empty pizza boxes skulked beneath the bed, the missing bottle of tomato ketchup wound up down the back of the sofa… thankfully, the lid was still on when he found it, and he wouldn’t have found it at all if he hadn’t been searching for the TV remote. That turned up in the fridge, no doubt left there one night when Lisa got hungry while watching late night talk shows. Even their taste in TV was poles apart.
When it came right down to it, they were so mismatched they should have been a disaster as a couple, yet despite their differences in character, they had more in common than Ianto would’ve guessed, and it wasn’t just that they both worked for Torchwood.
Appearances to the contrary, especially considering her love of loud music, Lisa loved to be outdoors, getting back to nature. Whenever neither of them was working at the weekend, they packed up her car and headed out of London, pitching their tent somewhere new every time, going hiking, rock-climbing, even canoeing. During the week they’d hit the gym together, go jogging, or swim laps in Torchwood’s pool, racing each other. Sometimes Ianto would even win. He was never entirely sure whether or not that was because she let him. The thought probably should have niggled at his masculine pride, but he loved her so much that he let it slide.
They didn’t have a perfect relationship, they had their share of fights, and Ianto knew Lisa hated the way he tidied her flat and nagged her about being messy, but he’d come to the conclusion that perfection was overrated. When she smiled at him that way, it felt as if his whole life before her had been spent in darkness, and he knew without a doubt that all their differences amounted to nothing. They belonged together, and no matter what he had to do, he was determined to hold on to her for as long as he possibly could.