Characters: Ianto, Jack, Tosh, Owen, Gwen.
Summary: Ianto gets a very nasty surprise when doing a few chores before heading home.
Word Count: 1195
Written For: My own prompt ‘Any, any, Waves of frustration rolled off him/her,’ at fic_promptly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
When Tosh popped up to his office to inform him that the Rift looked like it would be inactive for the next forty-eight hours or so, Jack came to a decision. Leaning on the railings overlooking the main Hub, he called down to his team.
“Okay, kids, finish whatever you’re doing and head home. Keep your phones on, but unless there’s an emergency, I don’t want to see you again until Thursday morning. It’s been a busy few days and we could all use some rest.”
“Yes!” Owen fist-pumped the air. “I’m goin’ for a drink, who’s with me?” He snatched up his jacket, and headed for the door as fast as he could go, with Gwen practically on his heels. Tosh returned to her computers for a few more minutes, saving what she’d been working on, and then even she left. Now only two of the team remained.
Ianto looked around at the untidy workstations and scattered takeout containers, and fetched a garbage bag. He’d empty the bins, pick up any stray rubbish, wash the few mugs and plates that were lying around, and feed the inmates; it shouldn’t take too long, forty minutes tops. Then maybe he could talk Jack into spending their free time somewhere significantly more comfortable than the narrow bunk in his cramped cubbyhole. What was the point of having a king-sized bed if you never used it?
Five minutes later he was hauling the trash to the incinerator, deciding to feed the assorted inhabitants of the cells while he was down there to save making the trip twice. Food for the residents was kept in an auxiliary kitchen area on one of the lower levels where there was a bank of fridges, freezers, and storage cupboards for that purpose. By now feeding time was such an established routine that Ianto barely had to think about what he was doing, and he was soon on his way back up to the main Hub. Everything was going smoothly and he still had twenty of his projected forty minutes left.
He was humming cheerfully as he walked up the stairs; all that he had to do now was to wash the dishes he’d left by the sink, and then he could enjoy two well-earned days off with Jack. Coming out of stairwell, he swung left towards the autopsy bay instead of right towards the kitchenette; he’d just check that Owen hadn’t left a mug or two down there as he sometimes did.
Halfway down the steps into the sunken area, Ianto stopped dead, mouth dropping open, and stared in horror. “Bloody fucking Owen!” he bellowed. The sight that met his eyes was one of carnage beyond belief. Owen’s latest autopsy subject still lay where he’d left it after he’d finishing determining the cause of death and taking samples for study. Blood and gore were splashed liberally across the usually pristine white tiles, bits of the dismembered alien had dripped off the autopsy table onto the floor to join assorted pools of fluids, while used and gunk-smeared scalpels and other tools of the coroner’s trade were piled haphazardly on the nearby instrument trolley. Some of the mess was already starting to smell rather ripe.
Attracted by Ianto’s angry yell, Jack appeared at the railings. “Ianto? What’s wro…” He trailed off, not bothering to finish his question. What was wrong was blatantly obvious.
“I thought I was nearly done for the day and then I find this!” Hands on hips, Ianto spun around to look up at Jack, who took a step back; the waves of frustration rolling off Torchwood’s General Support Officer were almost palpable. “Next time I see Owen, I’m going to kill him! I’ll rip his head off and shove it up his arse!”
“Oh, you don’t want to do that, Ianto.” Jack tried to calm his irate lover.
“And why would that be?”
“Think of the mess it would make!” Jack’s expression was earnest.
“Okay, good point; I don’t need more work than I’ve already got. I’ll strangle him instead and bung his body in one of the morgue drawers; no mess that way.” Ianto stomped back up the steps. “I need my cleaning supplies, and overalls.” He paused and glanced back down at the mess. “Wellies and rubber gloves too. Fuck, it’s going to take me a couple of hours at least to clean that up.”
“You could just leave it for Owen,” Jack suggested.
“Tempting, but it’s already starting to stink. I don’t like to think what it’ll smell like in a couple more days.”
Jack sniffed the air and pulled a face. “Good point. Do you want a hand?”
Ianto gave his lover a resigned smile. “Thanks for the offer, Jack, but I think it would be best if only one person has to trample through that.” He gestured to the pools of blood, ichor, and other unidentifiable goop spread across the floor. “But you could stay up there and pass me whatever I need so I don’t have to take everything down into the mess.”
“I can do that,” Jack agreed, nodding.
The clean-up job took Ianto just under two hours thanks to Jack doing all the fetching and carrying, and the transporting of waste to the incinerator. Once everything else was dealt with, he scrubbed down his faithful wellies, dropped his heavy duty rubber gloves and the disposable overalls he’d been wearing into a final trash bag, tying the top securely, and slouched wearily back up the steps. Behind him, the autopsy bay was spotless and gleaming, thoroughly disinfected, and the instruments Owen had been using were all sterilised and stowed safely in their drawers.
Jack reached for the bag in Ianto’s hand. “I’ll get rid of that; you grab your coat. I’m going to drive you home and run you a nice, hot bath, and then while you’re soaking, I’ll fix dinner. You’re not going to lift a finger for the rest of the day. I’ll even wash the dishes.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Good, because you’ve more than earned a rest. Oh, and just so you know, from now on I’m making it a rule that keeping the autopsy bay clean is entirely Owen’s responsibility. He can clear up his own messes in future. Sound fair?”
“Hmmm, provided I still get to inflict suitable punishment on him; I’m not letting him get away with leaving his work space like that.” He pointed back at where the mess had been.
“Agreed. What are you going to do to him?”
“Oh, the usual; cheap instant decaf for the next month.” A wicked glint came into Ianto’s eyes. “Just so happens I saved some of the entrails, they’re in the lab fridge at the moment. I thought I might fill the pockets of Owen’s lab coat with them before he gets in on Thursday, maybe put what’s left over in his desk drawer where he keeps his porn stash.”
“You, Ianto Jones, are a truly evil man.”
“Thank you, I try my best.” Ianto smirked in satisfaction; he was looking forward to seeing the expression on Owen’s face when his little ‘gifts’ were discovered!