Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Rhys
Author: m_findlow

Rating: PG

Length: 2,106 words

Content notes: none

Author notes: Written for Challenge 276 - Advice

Summary: Ianto dislikes taking his own advice.

'What is it?' Ianto asked, watching Jack scrutinise his phone which had gone off not ten minutes into their having sat down for breakfast. The local café was buzzing with the Sunday morning crowd, themselves, Gwen and Rhys included in the populous that filled its interior.

'Nothing major,' Jack replied. 'Sorry, Gwen, but your gonna have to get that French toast to go,' he said, watching the virtually untouched pile of fried bread slowly soak in the lashings of maple syrup.

She rolled her eyes at him. 'So much for you saying we could have the morning off.'

'Hey, don't shoot the messenger. The rift is unpredictable, so having a program that attempts to predict its behaviour is kinda... well, a bit of a fifty fifty.'

'Yeah, I know,' she said, scooping up a mouthful before letting the fork clatter back on the plate. She looked beseechingly across the table at Rhys. 'Sorry, love. Best laid plans and all.'

'It's fine. You lot go do your Torchwood thing. I'll take that toast if it's going begging,' he said, reaching across to pull the plate out from under her before she could say no, adding his two rashers of bacon from his own plate on top of it. 'Canadian breakfast,' he declared, beaming at her.

'In other words, a Welsh breakfast topped with maple syrup,' Jack teased him, picking up the cup of coffee and inhaling it in one go.

Rhys grinned. 'Nothing wrong with that.'

'I'll settle the bill,' Ianto offered, pulling his napkin out from his lap and making to stand up.

'No, no,' Jack said. 'You stay here with Rhys and enjoy your breakfast. Gwen and I will be fine.'

'But,'

'Ianto,' Jack said began, in that level tone that said he wasn't to interrupt again until Jack had finished speaking. 'You're no use to me if we have to go trawling through a dumpster,' he said, casting a look down at Ianto's arm tucked in its bright red plaster cast and sling.

'I can still help,' he insisted. 'Someone needs to supervise you.'

'We've got it covered, Ianto,' Gwen said, touching him gently on his good left arm. 'I'll make sure Jack doesn't do anything horrendously stupid.'

'Shouldn't take us more than a couple of hours to sort out,' Jack promised. 'You two take your time. At least someone should get to enjoy a lazy Sunday morning breakfast.'

'But,' Ianto repeated.

'Rhys, can I rely on you to make sure Ianto eats his breakfast?' Jack asked. 'Cut up his toast for him if you need to.'

'I don't need anyone cutting up my toast!' Ianto fumed. 'It's only a broken arm. I'm perfectly capable.'

Jack placed his hands on Ianto's shoulders and bent down to kiss him on the cheek in full view of everyone else in the café. 'Rest. Take a load off. After the last couple of days, you deserve it.'

'I can do my job,' Ianto sulked. 'I can even shoot left-handed.'

'I don't doubt it,' Jack replied, offering him up a smile. 'But we both know you're not nearly as good with your left.'

'I'll go practise, then,' he sneered, slumping back into the chair. 'Seems I won't be allowed to do anything else,' he added, trying to fold his arms and looking even more petulant when he realised he couldn't.

'Don't sulk. It's very unbecoming.'

'Whatever.'

Jack and Gwen made their leave from the café, leaving Ianto and Rhys alone with their plates and a half dozen abandoned cups of coffee and orange juice. Ianto toyed with the scrambled eggs on his own plate, pushing them around the plate with his left hand. He hated to admit that he wasn't anywhere near as dexterous eating with his left hand so he put the fork down and instead picked up the piece of toast - just in case Rhys got any ideas about cutting it up into little bits for him. He'd rather chew on it whole and use his hands than admit he couldn't carve it up to go with the eggs. Hadn't he specifically picked scrambled eggs for this very reason? He would have preferred pancakes.

Stupid broken arm, he thought. If only he hadn't landed awkwardly when taking down that weevil in the rain-soaked alleyway, he'd be out with the team right now; not stuck here like an invalid.

'You need to take some of your own advice, mate,' Rhys said, taking a large sip from his coffee cup in a manner that was so reminiscent of Jack.

Ianto leaned his good elbow on the table top, using it to support his head as his stared dejectedly down at his meal. 'What advice would that be?'

'I've been around long enough to know that you get cut up rough whenever Jack screws up and gets hurt, or Gwen for that matter. The three of you are forever getting injured. In fact I've heard you in the hallway outside our flat lecturing Gwen about not coming back to work for days. Not til she's gotten herself right.'

'That's different.'

'Oh, aye? D'you know how many times I've wanted to come out and shake your hand for bringing her home and forcing her to stay there? Last thing I want is Gwen trying to do her crazy, brave hero thing when she's not a hundred percent. Likely to make a mistake or something, and God only knows what would happen then.'

'Gwen knows what she's doing. She wouldn't take risks... I mean, she does take risks. Well, I mean, not because she's trying to do something she knows she can't. Of course she's very capable and all, but... Oh, bollocks, that hasn't come out right either.'

Rhys chuckled. 'Just when I thought I was the only one capable of digging myself an even bigger hole every time I opened my mouth.'

'The Welsh are predisposed to such things,' Ianto replied. He sighed. 'I just... It's six weeks. I can't just not do stuff for six weeks.'

He hated being benched, probably more than anyone. He'd watched Gwen argue a dozen times until she was blue in the face that she was fine and to keep going until she was about to collapse in a heap. Jack had even attempted driving himself around the hub in a wheelchair once, thinking it was some kind of all terrain vehicle, determined not to let something like a missing leg growing back stop him from being their industrious leader. Ianto had been the first one in line to tell them both that they needed to stop. He'd handcuff either one of them to their desks if it meant they'd stay put and not try to exert themselves or to make their injuries worse. But they'd been bad injuries that needed proper time to heal. Ianto just didn't think a broken arm was enough to take him out of action. It felt like nothing more than an inconvenience.

Sure, he wasn't very good with his keyboard, trying to type two-handed, but his cast was forever leaning heavily on the space bar, or just too damn heavy to hold high enough for sufficient periods of time for him to type what he needed. He also couldn't drive, or at least shouldn't attempt it, on pain of death from Jack. Not that Jack didn't drive one-handed all the time, leaving his left hand free to rest on Ianto's leg. He might have been okay if his indicators hadn't been on the right hand side of the steering wheel. Even feeding weevils was a little bit fraught with peril at the moment. He always kept one hand free, armed with a spare tube of weevil spray for when their guests had a rough night's sleep or just wanted someone to play with. Now all he had to defend himself was a half inch of thick plaster cast which he could throw up like a shield against weevil claws or teeth.

Fortunately it hadn't impinged on his ability to make the team coffee. That could have been disastrous. The team without coffee was about the most dangerous and volatile situation he could imagine.

He didn't like to admit that even coming out for breakfast this morning had been a minor challenge. Finding his mouth with his left hand was achievable if not exactly easy. Using his gun would have been easier. At least he'd had some practice at that before now. Jack was right, though; he couldn't compare his marksmanship between right and left, and he certainly couldn't use any firearm that had a decent recoil on it, needing his other hand underneath the clip to steady it. Luckily his trusty automatic had very little recoil. He wouldn't be able to handle Jack's webley. That was definitely a two-handed weapon.

Just getting dressed had been more difficult than he'd anticipated. He'd gotten away with it yesterday, having crashed into bed after a long wait at the hospital to have his arm set. He hadn't worn more than a hoodie and pajama pants all day. Jack had helped him wrap the plaster cast in a plastic bag with tape so that he could shower, but he was determined to do the rest himself. Washing and drying was fine. It was what came after that he was glad Jack wasn't around to see, having jumped in the shower himself. Awkward was the understatement of the century as he saw his reflection in the mirrored sliding doors of their wardrobe, trying to shuffle into shirt and pants. He'd been proud of himself when it came to the buttons on his shirt, but it was doing up his trousers and buckling his belt that was nigh on impossible. When he'd realised he'd have to repeat the action every time he needed the loo, he'd very quickly cut down on his coffee intake.

If he stopped to think about all the things he couldn't do, he might just take a bullet to himself. Unfortunately unlike Jack, he wouldn't come back from it, all healed and ready to go. Yet another reason to be annoyed at Jack and annoyed at his own clumsiness.

'I'm sure there's loads you can still do,' Rhys said, tucking into Gwen's breakfast with relish. 'Not like Torchwood ever sleeps, is it?'

Oh sure, there was still all the phone calls from UNIT and the Home Office that no one wanted to take. There was picking up the dry cleaning and grocery shopping. Both of those he could manage one-handed. And of course, he could always man the tourist office, because that was loads of fun, sorting pamphlets and selling discounted tours for Cardiff Castle to people who thought it had been there since the time of the pyramids. He just couldn't chase weevils or push the SUV to its limits as they dashed to meet a crashing spaceship. He was likely to get himself killed in either situation.

He'd probably known he was just as stubborn as the others when it came to being put on light duties, but it was never more evident than now. All those times he'd joked and said how nice it would be just to have a few days off to relax and not worry about work were coming back to bite him. He hated standing on the sidelines feeling useless.

His phone pinged with a message. He dreaded a text from his sister asking him to confirm if they were still coming for tea on Tuesday. That was all he needed, another person fussing over him and telling him not to do anything.

"Ianto, we need to round up the usual suspects for questioning," the text read. "Meet me out the front of City Hall in ten. J."

Ianto allowed himself a small smile, before he pocketed his phone and pulled out twenty quid, dropping it on the table. 'Thanks for breakfast, Rhys, but I've gotta go.'

Rhys looked confounded. 'But you haven't even eaten. I thought you were meant to be taking it easy?'

He looked at the plate of barely touched egg and pushed it across, adding it to the two plates already there. 'All yours,' he said, regretting the fact that he hadn't eaten as much as he should have. Maybe he could grab a muffin on the way out whilst he waited for a taxi. Getting to play good cop to Jack's bad cop was tiring work and it sounded like he was in for a long day of it, but it was definitely something he didn't need two good hands for. There'd be time for resting and recuperating later.