Fandom: Torchwood

Characters: Ianto, Ianto's mother

Author: m_findlow

Rating: PG

Length: 1,304 words

Content notes: none

Author notes: Written for Challenge 246 - Variation

Summary: Ianto sports a lot of injuries in his line of work, but they're all well worth it.


'Iesu mawr, Ianto!' his mum said, grabbing him by the shoulders before he'd even taken a step over the threshold. 'How on earth did you get that cut on your forehead?'

Ianto squirmed out of her grip, hating the way she made a fuss. 'It’s nothing,' he replied, absently fingering the cut and the three stitches Owen had put there. He promised there wouldn’t be a scar but who really knew for certain. Jack would just tell him that scars were sexy. Perhaps if he hadn't been watching what he'd been doing so carefully, his head might have been turned in the other direction at the time, hiding that cut in the thick brown hair on the back of his head instead.

She set her hands on her hips and gave him one of her baleful looks. 'Ianto, you tell me how that happened,' she said broaching no argument from him.

'Ran into a cupboard door. In the, er... kitchen. At work.' He wasn’t sure why he added that last part. Perhaps he felt bad that he'd lied to her. At least this way some part of what he'd just said made it true. He had been at work.

His mum folded her arms and looked cross. 'Is this the same work that you had that cut on your hand last week?'

'It was a papercut.' Even the files in the archives were dangerous if you didn't pay attention.

'And that tender shoulder the week before, that you couldn’t even lift above your head to get the teapot down?

'Well ,you shouldn’t have had it up there in the first place,' he argued.

She reached out and placed a hand on his arm. 'I’m worried about you, Ianto. This job of yours. The one you can’t tell me anything about.'

'It’s the Official Secrets Act. I can’t tell you. Besides I’m just an office worker. There wouldn’t be anything to tell you, anyway.' Nothing she'd believe, in any case.

'It’s not dangerous is it?'

'Mum, of course not,' he lied.

She gave him an up and down look, appraising him. 'All these injuries...'

'Accidents. Harmless accidents,' he insisted. Well, mostly harmless. The torn ligament in his shoulder was definitely not work related. He shouldn't have boasted to Jack about just how flexible he could be. Jack had taken great lengths to test those abilities out first hand. It turned out he wasn't nearly as flexible as he thought. Owen was still pissed off at the pair of them. 'Bad enough that the aliens have a go,' Owen had said. 'I don't need you two playing rough out of hours and adding to my workload,' he grizzled.

Ianto worked his way down the hall, into the kitchen and picking up the knife that had been abandoned halfway through cutting up a carrot. He could feel his mum's eyes on him as she leant in the doorway, letting him finish making the dinner she'd started.

'You never used to be this accident prone. Are you sure you’re alright?'

'I’m fine. Really.' More chance he got distracted and cut his finger off in the kitchen at this rate, he thought. He could feel her eyes boring into the back of his head.

'Are you sure this is the right job for you? Government pensions aside and all. Only good thing your dad ever had to say about working for the government. Not that I don't love you being back home, Ianto,' she clarified. 'Barely saw you once you moved to London. Not that it stopped your sister coming round for a free feed. What's she got to say about all this? Do you turn up at her place looking like you've got into a fist fight?' She scoffed. 'Par for the course around there, I suppose. Badge of honor and all that.'

'She doesn't bang on about my work,' he replied. 'She leaves that for you.'

'Don't get smart with me, my boy.'

He waited for the clip around his ear but it never came. Perhaps he'd finally gotten old enough that she could only scold him verbally. Or perhaps just tall enough. 'I'm sure,' he said 'I love it. Really. I can't imagine working anywhere else.'

'You love an office job?'

'Yes, mum.'

'And you’re not just, you know, having accidents for something to do? For attention?'

He paused, knife hovering over the cutting board and the growing pile of carrot before turning to face her. 'You realise how crazy you sound right now?'

She threw her hands up. 'I’m just saying. I always get the feeling you're not telling me the whole story.'

He went back to chopping carrots. 'If there was anything to tell, I promise you, you'd be the first to know. Besides, who else am I going to tell?'

'Your sister, for one.'

It was Ianto's turn to scoff. 'Like I'd give her any more ammunition to have a go.'

His mum came over, taking the tea towel and beginning to dry the handful of dishes in the drainer on the sink next to him. 'So, what is it about this job you love so much? Assuming I'm allowed to know anything.'

Where to begin? he thought. 'It's an office job, obviously, but.. Well, there's a lot of variation from one day to the next. That's what makes it interesting. You never quite know what you'll be doing when you arrive for the day.

His mum snorted. 'Bloody government. No wonder they're so inefficient.'

He smirked at her comment. A varied workload was definitely the truth of it. Yesterday it had been the alien equivalent of a food processor that had the most hideous high pitched sound on account of being broken on its travels through the rift. It had taken Tosh four hours to get the thing to stop, and that was after Jack had made his own attempt, putting four bullets in it for good measure.

The day before that he'd spent liaising with Cardiff police to conduct an audit of their evidence locker for anything that shouldn't be there. No one liked that job, since the police got uptight about anything being removed from evidence. Torchwood got up their noses at the best of times. Ianto however was always successful in sweet talking someone into letting him in, or perhaps it was the amount of paperwork he drowned them in that made them give up the fight.

Today it had been the slightly psychotic alien bird that had clipped him on its mad flight around a movie theater, giving him the cut that had caused so much trouble since he arrived at his childhood home for dinner and Coronation Street. It just went to show that no matter how careful you were, accidents would still happen. But that was okay. He had Owen to patch him up good as new and more than a little sympathy from Jack, who was always ready and willing to fuss over him. Sometimes he wasn't quite sure it wasn't worth a few cuts and bruises to get a little extra attention from his favourite coworker.

'What are you smiling about?' his mum asked, catching the silly smile on his face.

'Just thinking about someone from work,' he replied.

She set down the dinner plate in her hand. 'Oh? Someone you fancy?'

He blushed at that. 'Don't get too excited,' he warned her.

'Is that why you keep getting into accidents? Are you too busy with your eyes on someone else?'

'No!' Okay, maybe once or twice he should have had his eyes or mind elsewhere. It wasn't his fault Jack was so damn attractive.

His mum put down the tea towel, stepped over and kissed his cheek. 'Well, just you be careful, then. No one wants a klutz for a boyfriend.'