I Hate (Chap. 3)

[tigerstriped86.livejournal.com]

Title: I Hate (Chap. 3)
Author: tigerstriped86
Fandom/Pairing: Multiverse: TW, Buffy, OZ, CSI; Possible slash pairings (none, yet)
Summary: Ianto decides to change his life.  And Xander is there to help him start over.

Raiting: T-M: Teen to Mature (Mentions of sex, drugs, rock n roll-all the stuff you read fanfic for)
Prompt: Tamingthemuse prompt 88-"haste makes speed"

Disclaimer: A friend issued me a challenge after "In Good Company" (my TW/Buffy/Sondheim crossover) to do a Xander/Ianto pairing.  I wasn't sure if I could (I couldn't imagine it) and this fic is the test run for that pairing (friendship or more-not sure how far it'll get).  Actually, it's turning into quite a fun story to write.

Find the first two chapters here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4153479/1/I_Hate

“Hey! Look out!” Greg Sanders just barely jumped out of the way of the rogue skateboarder in time. His arms flailed about, much like his long, blond hair. A Southern California surfer boy in Las Vegas. Greg just shook his head, unimpressed. The fact he had gotten out of the way anywhere near in time had been a miracle, what with his arms loaded down with so many books.

Greg stopped to tie his shoes near the big overturned flashlight on campus. As he balanced his foot on a nearby railing, he heard a familiar voice. “Sanders! What are you doing here?” His face went red slightly and then he allowed his emotions to rearrange as he lifted his head slowly from his shoe lace.

“Nick. I'm just here subbing as a TA for an old friend. And you?”

“Got a cousin that wanted to check out the campus. She said Texas just didn't fit her style anymore and she thought of her old Uncle Nick.”

Greg snorted. Old uncle Nick. Nick wasn't that old looking, nor that half bad looking, for what it was worth.

“Say do you want to get a cup of coffee after I run Stacy to her freshman orientation sit-in?” Nick's mind and heart screamed yes, but his head defied all that. He shook it, not quite vigorously.

“I'm afraid I can't, Nicky. I've got to get back to the lab; night shift waits for no one.”

“You don't let yourself get too cooped up in that lab, again. It took you forever to get out.” Nick chuckled as he flashed a smile and walked away. Greg just shook his head again and sighed, finishing the job with his shoe.

Once upon a time, he would have followed Nick to any of the various coffee shops and food eateries around Vegas. Now, the very sight of him made Greg jumpy and slightly nauseous. It had been puppy love once, vague admiration, and stone gutting fear when he had been kidnapped. But with the splitting of the team and Nick's on-again, off-again relationship status; Greg willed himself to fall out of love. It wasn't as easy as being in it, that's for sure.

Greg sat in the back of AP Genetics, balancing a pencil off the end of his finger. What he was unaware of presently was the pair of binoculars focused intently on him.

“He's still in the classroom.”

“Understood. Em, have you gotten that license yet?”

“Carter, I'm trying to observe here! I'm working on it Ianto. Ask Jaime how much time we have left.” Em whispered into her comm link.

“Jaime...”

“I heard her boss. I just wish she'd learn that alien technology means we can do more than just talk to one person at a time.”

“Tell Jaime his head looks like the upturned cactus we're studying.”

“Ha Ha, Em. Ha ha.”

“Okay, you two. Focus on the objective.”

“I've got it, Ianto.” Emily heard the whirring sound of a chair turning in her comm-link and keyboard letters clacking away.

“Alright, Em. Feed me that license, please.”

“Ianto, we've got Juliet Zulu Niner Juliet Alpha Tres. Sorry about that last one. I couldn't remember T.”

Ianto sighed. “Don't worry about it, we're over a secure connection.”

“He's leaving the building.”

“Jaime, I want you to trail him. Feed the coordinates to Xander. Project Greg goes into effect immediately.”

“I wish we would have had better time to think of a project name.”

Emily set off her own ring tone and waved off her botany class, and a very over-eager freshman named Carter, claiming her dad had called. She ran off towards her Buick, criss-crossing paths with Jaime in the midst of the mid-class chaos.

Greg whistled to himself as the Rolling Stones played some song about satisfaction on the radio. The sights of Vegas blurred as Greg sped toward work. He stopped at a Starbucks, only slowing down long enough to put some change in a ukulele case, where a man with dreadlocks was playing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”. The one thing you knew about Vegas, you were always guaranteed a show.

Greg's car broke down as he was passing Arizona Charlie's on Boulder Highway. He stopped into the local Circle K just long enough to get a mid-grade Slurpee and call Triple A. As Xander slunk from under Greg's car carrying a screwdriver dripped in oil, Greg was muttering to himself intensely and making the slight trek to the bus stop.

“You're out of breath.” Gil's voice caught Greg as he finally got into work, right under the wire. His face was red from being out in the heat longer than necessary and entering the air-conditioned building so quickly.

“You're perceptive, Grissom.”

“We thought you'd run late, glad you didn't.”

“I...appreciate that?” Greg offered the phrase, doing his best to hold back the tide of abject sarcasm.

“Go check your desk. Latest case file. You're on it with Sarah.”

“I hope she can drive. My car broke down earlier today.”

“I'm sure that won't be a problem.”

Sarah and Greg ended up in Summerlin. It seemed like a very routine case of assault turned wrong. The only problem was, that, for all the blood spatter and various available weaponry, including a glass table that had a bullet-hole in several parts, there was no body. Greg looked up at the sandstone with red tile house, a Summerlin classic, lined up and sandwiched in the glorified waiting room for God.

“Old people smell. Always like cats.” Greg stood over a broken window, taking pictures of various smears and whatnot.

“Hey! I like cats. You'd best be careful, Greg.”

“Why? You gonna sic your cats on me?”

“Take that tone of voice with me and I just might have to.” His eyes flipped towards inside the broken pane, where Sarah was going through a jewelry box. She smiled, eyes plagued with amusement.

Sometime later, Greg had some interaction with Hodges. Apparently, the samples he took weren't quite human. A rare type of boar's blood was found at the scene. So, there was no body and apparently a pig involved.

“Boars are not just wild pigs, Greg. They are a dangerous species of herbivore. This South African species is the most rare and dangerous”

“You're going to tell me that one of those tusked pigs could take out a human?”

“Quite possibly.”

“Don't suppose the boar just ate him?” Gil gave Sarah his annoyed over the spectacles look and she raised her hands in defense.

“I'm just saying.”

“So, was this guy keeping Wilbur as a pet?”

“We don't know Nick. First, we have to find out how this guy got the boar.”

Three phone calls later and Greg was speaking with a pet shop owner with a very thick Greek accent. “No, I can tell you we don't sell boars here. Me and my sons would never allow such a dangerous animal to be sold as a pet.”

“Well, can you tell me of anyone who would sell boars?”

“No. We did have one man come in once and ask us if we sold boars. He left us a business card and I all but threw it away. Pets are respected creatures, Mr. Sanders. Selling a boar like that would be beneath its dignity.”

Greg scratched his head and did some quick numbers. “May I come in and get that business card?”

“Of course. We also have some lovely puppies on sale if you wish to purchase one.”

“I'll bear that in mind. Thank you Mr...”

“Lustairi. My name is Mr. Lustairi, and this is my daughter Patel and my two sons, Andero and Petri.”

“I'm sorry it took me so long to get here, Mr. Lustairi.”

“Please, there is nothing to be concerned about. If you can get any answers out of this boar person, then I am glad to be of assistance.”

“Well, thank you very much. It was nice to meet you.” Greg turned back towards the door and stopped it in mid-swing, halting the sound of the tiny bell at the top. “Did you know what he wanted the boar for?”

“I couldn't even begin to imagine Mr. Sanders.”

Greg held the card in his hands, flipping one side to the next while standing outside of Remington Party Planners. The business card matched the outside of the store, striking pink ribbon cascading over the top of the bright blue logo. He could hear the receptionist even from the outside. She had a high-pitched voice. Her red hair was tied back in a severe bun and her fake fingernails clicked away while she chatted in her head set.

Another bell went off as Greg entered the shop and was ushered to a seat to wait for Renee's boss. When the phone call ended, he stepped up to Renee and announced his intentions.

“I need to see Ianto Jones.”

Across town, Greg's humble car lay jacked up on slats in a greasy garage, nondescript gray tools and oil lay all around it. Tobias Beecher walked out of the office.

“I hope you washed your hands.” Toby snorted at Xander.

“Like you always wash your hands after doing your dirty work?”

“You enjoy your work too much for it to be dirty.”

“Touche.”

Xander hadn't bothered to ask where Toby had found the place. It didn't matter much to him, just that Toby's connections got done what they needed to do. Over his shoulder, Xander could see the bald mechanic smiling through the slats of the office mini-blinds and zipping up his trousers.

“Help me with this.”

“Why? It's not that heavy.” Toby groaned a bit as he and Xander loaded a large canvas bag into the front seat of the car.

“And why did we have to do this now?”

Xander shrugged. “Can't afford for anything to go wrong. Besides, haste makes speed.”

“Don't you mean, haste makes waste?”

“That's what I said.”