Puppy Brigade
Apr. 9th, 2008 01:14 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Author: tigerstriped86
Pairing: Implied Janto, but nothing really.
Summary: My response to merchedavon's lj comment (sorry about murdering your sn) about a crack Ianto!kitty fic. This was my response. Probably the silliest I'll ever get. I couldn't envision him as a kitty. You'll see what I mean.
Rating: T (for drug, occult, and puppy running a coffee machine references)
Prompt: 90: Colorless
Gen. Disclaimers: The usual. I own the plot, but not any of the characters (except for the guy in Chap. 2 who might have been an extra on TW that I can't remember.). It's silly, but if you want to borrow it RTD-just hire me and give me some credit. That's all I ask.
The full story is here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4183969/1/Puppy_Brigade
Fragments of Jack's voice lingered in Ianto's mind. Phrases jumped out at him as he looked around the dusty store room far from the Hub. There might be others out there. We aren't sure if they were even aliens. In old attics and basement, they could be anywhere in any old film. So Ianto had promised himself that he wouldn't let that happen again, couldn't let that happen again. Just saving one was unacceptable. Any loss was unacceptable.
He checked the outside of his tailored suit and then proceeded to throw the coat over a recently-dusted box. The work he was undertaking was dirty. He shuffled about noiselessly until he reached a corner with a forgotten box in it. He took the penknife from out his pocket and ripped away the adhesive seams of tape.
Ianto gingerly opened the flaps to avoid more flowing dust than the room had already required, moving two heavy boxes that had been soaked with water damage did that. The box he had opened was marked “Dad's Favorite Things” and inside Ianto found a list he had printed directing him to different things in the box.
Ianto and Jameson Jones hadn't had many things in common, other then their passion for organization. One of those things was history. Museums and galleries were frequented as often as, Ianto could only assume, American kids participated in little league. He hoped so. He wouldn't want to have labeled his childhood as tragic.
Several silver picture frames needed to be retrieved for further preservation. The entire contents needed a good cleaning. At the bottom of the box, Ianto found them. Three reels, two rusted and rotting from a flood last summer that hadn't taken priority with Lisa becoming half a cyber being, gave Ianto an innocent smile. The one that remained preserved, he held at a distance, so as not to catch any virus he imagined might live therein.
Ianto grimaced as he shut the garage again, making a mental note to sort this all out the next weekend he had free. “Who am I kidding? I'll be back next Tuesday now that I see Caradine wasn't kidding about the place,” he thought aloud. His cousin Caradine was slightly less fastidious than he, but had come twice and was now bugging Ianto to use his knack for cleaning and organizing to put “Uncle Jay's stuff” in order. Ianto sighed, imagining Caradine in her hippie shawl, chewing away at her gum and doing her best to be stern and yet hip.
As he drove himself back to his flat, Ianto kept doing a double-take at the reel, as if he expected something to pop out at him any second. Or possibly a warning, maybe a red flag. A red flag would be nice and simple. Nothing for Ianto Jones is ever that easy. He tensed as he set up the reel machine he had borrowed from the Hub, now also implementing the paperwork Jack had insisted on beginning after the incident with Susie. It was too bad Ianto had conveniently forgotten to give the slip to Jack before he had left earlier in the day.
It was leaning towards two am and Ianto yawned as harmless images passed before the screen. Old movie stars leaving airplanes, a couple of news ticks about advancing war, and then the casket of a soldier appearing on screen. At first, Ianto didn't notice the casket beginning to show up in various other places. But when the casket lid conspicuously replaced a coffee table in a shop window; he jumped up to stop the reel. But not before the next click heralded one last scene.
There was a protest. The casket lay around a ring of flower children and a wreath of what he imagined to be red poppies lay on the center of the symmetrical protest. He squinted and furrowed his brows as he walked a little closer to the screen. The protesters were shouting at someone, angry, but the camera didn't face the audience. Ianto's unusual curiosity won out over his unflappable nature and he moved forward. The casket appeared again and he touched the bed sheet he was using as a screen, transfixed by it. He didn't even notice the lid beginning to move of its own volition.
Suddenly, the wreath turned red. Ianto looked back, stunned, realizing that the black and white reel hadn't suddenly jumped to color, but that he was bleeding. As if he had pricked his finger on a thorn. Ianto sucked a bit of blood from the fresh notch of skin that had been taken. He shook his head, feeling this wave of nausea come towards him. He fell to his knees as if he'd drank too much and then his head became cloudy. Silly thoughts entertained him as his vision began to fade. The last thing Ianto Jones remembered was the feeling of his carpet and how grand he remembered it being.
There was a sharp boom that sorted Ianto right from his dream. He was dreaming of Frisbees and parks. He was slightly annoyed and slightly afraid. Thunder? There wasn't any call for rain that he remembered. Ianto yelped slightly, startled by a second boom that forced his eyes to open. As far as he could tell, he was still indeed on the floor.
He tried walking but failed, it seemed like he had to crawl to get to the door, which had been enlarged about four times its normal size, cascading flickers from the movie lighting hitting it just briefly. A voice echoed, strong and frightening.
“Ianto?”
His heart slowed just briefly. It was Jack. He found that he couldn't stand to open the door, so Ianto did the sensible thing. He tried to yell.
“Ianto? Do you have a puppy in there?”
Ianto furrowed his brow a bit. His yell had rang out as a whiny yelp. What was going on?
“Ianto? I'm giving you to the count of three. Then I'm breaking down the door!”
No, Jack! I just finished paying off my security deposit! Ianto commiserated with himself helplessly when he found out he couldn't utter a single phrase.
“Okay, Ianto! This isn't funny; you can't just hide out at home and not invite me over to hide with you! Where are you?!”
Trust me, Ianto thought, this is not funny.
“I'm coming in! 1, 3!”
Captain Jack burst through the door and it literally blew Ianto onto his knees. That is, if what he had was knees. Point is, Ianto Jones was blown backwards. Now he knew it was an Alice in Wonderland dream. Jack Harkness was captivating, Lord knows, but he was not, I repeat was not, anywhere near 12 or 13 feet tall! And in black and white.
“Hey, little fella! Do you know where Ianto is?” He reached down for Ianto's head, and Ianto squirmed away from the unnaturally large fingers. Jack frightened him, although he knew the scent and reveled in it.
Jack saw the clothes lying by the machine. It was Jack's turn to furrow his brow and give the puppy a “he did not disobey my orders again” look. The small golden lab yelped and fell backwards again, briefly revealing a sharp black spot that slightly resembled a tie.
He checked the pockets while the puppy nipped at his heels. “It's okay boy, I'm not going to steal anything. Just checking for where Daddy might be. Maybe in the shower?” A naughty flicker crossed Jack's eyes and a smile formed on his lips. Maybe in the shower.
“Ianto”, Jack whispered, as he headed towards the bathroom, only to leap in with surprise and a puppy at his heels to nothingness. Jack made a mental note to let Ianto know to get his puppy trained. Wait. Ianto had never mentioned a puppy before. Jack looked down and then knelt down, staring back at the brave little puppy who had taken an interest in him.
Jack cocked his head as the puppy began a fearful whimper. Even without its trademark blue, Jack's eyes were captivating. Jack lifted the puppy in his hands and then finished going through Ianto's pockets, only to find the paperwork for the reel machine. Ianto caught hold of himself in the vanity mirror and yowled. What in the devil was going on?
“It's okay, boy! It's okay. We'll figure this out. We'll find your daddy. And boy is he going to get it.” Jack checked the answering machine, briefly stopping as he listened to one of Caradine's messages and then, with the puppy in tow, heading to the storage room. Captain Harkness would not be responsible for losing a member of Ianto's family. And really, Ianto was never this irresponsible. There was something amiss.
In hindsight, it was only a wasted trip in that he had to return to the apartment to grab the reels once he found the detailed note about the contents of the “Dad” box. To his credit, Jack had not snooped, no matter how much the urge struck him. He did wonder, however, if Ianto's father's tape measure was still around. He briefly imagined that the puppy glared at him when he made a comment about it. Could puppies glare? Furthermore, why did this one not seem to possess the natural curiosity puppies in a new environment seem to have? And it didn't even want to look out the window during the car ride. It just stared with deep brown eyes, Jack only noticing when he stopped at a red light.
Jack thought it was odd the puppy had the same color eyes as Ianto. He named it Max, so he wouldn't have to keep calling him “the puppy”. At least, he hoped Max was a fit. The puppy wouldn't give him the opportunity to check. Max was too well-behaved, it was slightly off-putting to Jack.
“Jack, where have you been? Have you found Ianto?”
“Not yet Gwen. But I did find something at his apartment.” The bundle in Jack's arms leapt onto Gwen's desk.
Gwen looked at the puppy and then to Jack and then back at the puppy. “Jack, this is a dog.”
“I know that. I also found this at Ianto's apartment.” Gwen took the paper and a realization struck her. She gave Jack a wide-eyed look.
“He went after more reels himself?”
“Not only dangerous but irresponsible. If I ever find him, I'm going to ask him what he was bloody thinking.”
“Now, hold on. Let's not get too irrational. Ianto was probably just trying to save everyone else the hassle.”
“But where's Ianto?” The puppy yelped again and Gwen patted his head.
“Jack, have you fed the dog yet?”
“His name is Max, and he does look like he needs a bit of a meal, doesn't he? Think he'd eat a biscuit?”
“I can't see why not.” She offered “Max” a biscuit from her current tray and he sniffed it. Max rushed off the table and through the center of the hub, skidding a couple of times. Jack raced after him, hoping that he wasn't heading to make a mess in the archives. He called Gwen over wide-eyed when he saw the puppy stopped dead at the coffee machine.
“What is he doing?”
Jack whispered to Gwen. “Let's watch and find out. This is Ianto's puppy after all.”
At first, the scale of the machine was immense to Ianto. But he had become very “feng shui” about this whole dreaming experience and decided he would ride it out dutifully. And if it were not a dream, he would cross that bridge when it came. His tail drooped as he sat and then lifted expectantly. If a dog could roll up his sleeves, this “Max” surely just had.
The giant calliope of metal and tubes could even bend to Ianto's will as a puppy. He realized quite quickly the futility of using his tiny paws and set to work moving gears and bearing the taste of cotton as he brewed coffee with steam. He was light and capable, just like always. Only this time, there was more fur. And he was naked. Although, he and Jack had had that one time from the list for his birthday. Ianto had to steel himself. He would not, I repeat, would not think about number seven on the list right now!
He licked his nose with his tongue once as he nudged for his favorite snoopy mug with the sky blue background and Jack brought it under the machine. The foam tickled his nose and he sneezed just a bit, but was generally pleased with his work. Ianto Jones, fearsome, subtle, and adaptable. Those were his middle names. And so was Edith. But only three people knew that!
Gwen's eyes went wide and her her hands leapt into her pockets. “Oh no. I'm not trying coffee a dog made!”
“Would you rather have mine?”
“There's got to be a law somewhere about this...”
“Maybe he's just talented!” Jack picked up the cup and sniffed it, noticing the dog intently watching with curiosity and a bit of a shiver as he raised the cups to his lips.
His eyes matched the wideness of Gwen's pair.
Jack's voice cracked just briefly in bewilderment. “Is that you Ianto?”