Pin Stripe Détente
Title: Pin Stripe Détente
Fandom: Torchwood/Primeval
Characters: Ianto, Lester (brief appearance from Jack and TW team)
Words: 1,555
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Torchwood or Primeval.
Spoilers: For the end of Primeval season 2
AN: This is is a follow up to Battle of the Pin Stripes where Ianto and Lester meet. It was written for lsellersfic who requested certain things to happen in a follow up (which I won't say here to not ruin it!) as a thank you for some gorgeous artwork she did for me. I hope this is what you wanted.
AN2: Thanks to the fab lukadreaming for beta duty.
AN3: This follows canon, is not Denial friendly, but I have decided to keep Lester's title from season 1.
“Ianto!” Jack’s voice ran through the Hub and the team all looked up in response. Jack was leaning against the railing above them, one foot resting on a bar, looking down on his team.
“Sir?” Ianto managed, with a poise even he wondered how he maintained at times.
“I have a meeting in Westminster tomorrow which I’m going to find myself unable to attend at the last minute. Book yourself a first-class ticket and you can travel up in the morning.”
“As your last-minute replacement at the meeting? Tomorrow?” Ianto didn’t need to look at the rest of the team to know the grins they would be wearing at his expense.
“You catch on fast Ianto. As a thank you, feel free to pick yourself up a new suit at that tailors of yours on the Torchwood account.”
“You’re too kind, sir. And maybe it’s best that I attend; it will save on the usual round of apology presents.” Ianto flashed a purely-innocent-honestly smile and left to book himself a train.
The next morning Ianto found himself in London bright and early. He had spent the train journey reading the meeting agenda that Jack had claimed he didn’t have until Ianto was safely out of Wales. And Ianto quickly discovered why Jack had been so reluctant to let him see it. The meeting was six hours of budget talks. Torchwood’s budget was safe; it was protected by the Crown, positively indexed against inflation and couldn’t be touched by the government. But a representative had to attend the yearly meetings. And today the privilege was his.
As he was early Ianto filled his extra time with a walk along the river, trying not to turn his nose up too much at the takeaway coffee he had bought. Then, as the time approached for the meeting, he headed back towards the Home Office and prepared to be bored out of his mind for the next few hours.
Ianto took his seat. While a few people had seemed surprised that Jack had sent someone else in his place, no one appeared very disappointed. Ianto attempted not to feel too smug about this, but didn’t do terribly well.
He looked around the room as the heads of various agencies entered and also took their seats. Ianto recognised some faces from various intelligence reports, and many of the names by reputation. He did his best not to stare too pointedly at the woman to his far right who he knew wasn’t exactly a local. She smiled at him and gave him a little wink.
Five minutes after the meeting was due to start one of the seats was still obstinately empty so the chair started the meeting anyway. Ianto got the hang of how the meeting was run very quickly. Each department took it in turns to be told what their budget was being slashed too, made a perfunctory argument against it, had the argument ignored and the procedure was repeated with the next.
Except with him where his presence from the Wales Tourist Board was acknowledged and then brushed over.
Four hours into the meeting and three and a half hours after even Ianto’s ability to look like he was interested had faded, the door opened and a man swept into the room without, apparently, even a thought to apologise for his tardiness.
“How rude,” was Ianto’s first thought. “Oh, god, no, it can’t be,” was his second.
“Sir James, how very good of you to join us,” the chair said with badly-disguised contempt.
Sir James took his seat in an unhurried manner. “Colour me naturally devastated to have missed what I’m sure has so far been a riveting meeting so that I could do something so trivial as my job.”
Ianto seethed quietly in his seat. This man was as obnoxious as he had been that awful day in London when he had kept running into him. Ianto comforted himself with knowing that shortly he would get to watch the man squirm and beg fruitlessly for money like all the others around the table had. When it came to his turn Ianto would make a point of enjoying it.
But the man hadn’t even stopped talking yet.
“And with a view to ensuring that no more of my time is wasted I propose that we get to me next.”
“There is an order to this meeting, Sir James.”
“And what would the world be without flexibility? Let me hear your proposal and then we can start this charade.”
With a long-suffering sigh and eyeroll that Ianto idly thought to congratulate him on later, the chair shuffled through his papers and listed the proposal. Ianto kept his face professionally neutral as he watched Sir James’ face harden and work its way through various shades in the puce spectrum. The chair finished and the table as one turned to Sir James in anticipation of his reaction.
“No.”
“Excuse me, Sir James?”
“I said no. You are not cutting our budget by that amount.”
“Sir James, with respect, your project, unlike some of the others around this table, is not a matter of national security. In fact, as far as anyone can ascertain, you represent nothing more than a group of scientists conducting research so out-there, their results are never even published. Mr Cutter…”
“Professor Cutter,” Sir James interrupted.
“Professor Cutter and his team, one of whom is barely out of university and therefore clearly not worth this kind of investment, have made no recordable progress into anything it appears and we are also led to believe that you have recently experienced a high turnover in staff. Another research assistant left at short notice, no explanations given, and even your own assistant was so miserable he apparently left the country so quickly he neglected to leave a forwarding address.”
Ianto was enjoying this game of verbal tennis and turned his attention back to Sir James again. And his enjoyment was sapped from him immediately.
Although the other man’s features were still carefully schooled, Ianto was enough of a pro to see the subtle changes now there meant that the chair's words had got under his skin. Ianto suddenly had the feeling that he, and possibly everyone else around the table, was missing something very important.
“Now, you will listen to me as you do not begin to have the first indication of an idea what you are talking about,” Lester began. “Professor Cutter is the absolute leader in his field. In fact, there is no one else in his field. The reason that no papers are published about the findings of his team is that his research is so cutting edge the rest of the scientific world is not yet ready for it. But, rest assured, the work that is being done by that team today will have significant effects on the world of the future. And hope for your sake that it is the distant future.
“And while I am talking about the science team, let me assure you that straight from university or not, Connor Temple, while admittedly lacking a taste of any of the finer things in life, possesses quite a singular mind and the project would be many years further behind if we did not have him working with the Professor.
“And whilst the…emigration…of my assistant was indeed unfortunate I will not have his name mentioned in the same breath as Stephen Hart, or “another research assistant” as your faceless paperwork would have him known. Hart was a brave, selfless individual whose…decision to leave… was not taken lightly by anyone and he is still sorely missed by the team.
“So I say again; no, I will not accept your budgetary “offer”. In fact, unless I hear otherwise from the minister himself, I will be making no changes at all to how my operation is run.”
With that, Sir James pushed back his chair, picked up his briefcase and exited the room. Ianto watched him go before standing himself, giving a curt nod to the chair and following him out.
“Sir James! Sir James, wait!” Ianto called after the man.
Sir James paused and turned to see who was calling him. Confusion crossed his face for a moment before being replaced with a flash of recognition as Ianto neared him.
“You. I remember you.” His face turned quizzical for a moment. “Were you in there?”
“Ah, yes. You know, one of those necessary evils. I just wanted to say, the way you defended your team in there, it was, well, very impressive, sir.” Ianto held out his hand.
Sir James studied him for a moment and took his hand and shook it.
“I do seem to remember that you had a very good taste in suits as well as coffee.” Sir James looked at his watch. “I have some time before I have to get back to the office, maybe we could go and sample some of both.”
“That sounds like an excellent suggestion, sir.”
As Ianto followed Sir James out of the Home Office and accepted a lift in his car he fingered a small vial in his pocket. He had a feeling about Sir James and his mysterious project; there was a look about him he recognised. But there was always retcon if he was wrong.
Fandom: Torchwood/Primeval
Characters: Ianto, Lester (brief appearance from Jack and TW team)
Words: 1,555
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Torchwood or Primeval.
Spoilers: For the end of Primeval season 2
AN: This is is a follow up to Battle of the Pin Stripes where Ianto and Lester meet. It was written for lsellersfic who requested certain things to happen in a follow up (which I won't say here to not ruin it!) as a thank you for some gorgeous artwork she did for me. I hope this is what you wanted.
AN2: Thanks to the fab lukadreaming for beta duty.
AN3: This follows canon, is not Denial friendly, but I have decided to keep Lester's title from season 1.
“Ianto!” Jack’s voice ran through the Hub and the team all looked up in response. Jack was leaning against the railing above them, one foot resting on a bar, looking down on his team.
“Sir?” Ianto managed, with a poise even he wondered how he maintained at times.
“I have a meeting in Westminster tomorrow which I’m going to find myself unable to attend at the last minute. Book yourself a first-class ticket and you can travel up in the morning.”
“As your last-minute replacement at the meeting? Tomorrow?” Ianto didn’t need to look at the rest of the team to know the grins they would be wearing at his expense.
“You catch on fast Ianto. As a thank you, feel free to pick yourself up a new suit at that tailors of yours on the Torchwood account.”
“You’re too kind, sir. And maybe it’s best that I attend; it will save on the usual round of apology presents.” Ianto flashed a purely-innocent-honestly smile and left to book himself a train.
The next morning Ianto found himself in London bright and early. He had spent the train journey reading the meeting agenda that Jack had claimed he didn’t have until Ianto was safely out of Wales. And Ianto quickly discovered why Jack had been so reluctant to let him see it. The meeting was six hours of budget talks. Torchwood’s budget was safe; it was protected by the Crown, positively indexed against inflation and couldn’t be touched by the government. But a representative had to attend the yearly meetings. And today the privilege was his.
As he was early Ianto filled his extra time with a walk along the river, trying not to turn his nose up too much at the takeaway coffee he had bought. Then, as the time approached for the meeting, he headed back towards the Home Office and prepared to be bored out of his mind for the next few hours.
Ianto took his seat. While a few people had seemed surprised that Jack had sent someone else in his place, no one appeared very disappointed. Ianto attempted not to feel too smug about this, but didn’t do terribly well.
He looked around the room as the heads of various agencies entered and also took their seats. Ianto recognised some faces from various intelligence reports, and many of the names by reputation. He did his best not to stare too pointedly at the woman to his far right who he knew wasn’t exactly a local. She smiled at him and gave him a little wink.
Five minutes after the meeting was due to start one of the seats was still obstinately empty so the chair started the meeting anyway. Ianto got the hang of how the meeting was run very quickly. Each department took it in turns to be told what their budget was being slashed too, made a perfunctory argument against it, had the argument ignored and the procedure was repeated with the next.
Except with him where his presence from the Wales Tourist Board was acknowledged and then brushed over.
Four hours into the meeting and three and a half hours after even Ianto’s ability to look like he was interested had faded, the door opened and a man swept into the room without, apparently, even a thought to apologise for his tardiness.
“How rude,” was Ianto’s first thought. “Oh, god, no, it can’t be,” was his second.
“Sir James, how very good of you to join us,” the chair said with badly-disguised contempt.
Sir James took his seat in an unhurried manner. “Colour me naturally devastated to have missed what I’m sure has so far been a riveting meeting so that I could do something so trivial as my job.”
Ianto seethed quietly in his seat. This man was as obnoxious as he had been that awful day in London when he had kept running into him. Ianto comforted himself with knowing that shortly he would get to watch the man squirm and beg fruitlessly for money like all the others around the table had. When it came to his turn Ianto would make a point of enjoying it.
But the man hadn’t even stopped talking yet.
“And with a view to ensuring that no more of my time is wasted I propose that we get to me next.”
“There is an order to this meeting, Sir James.”
“And what would the world be without flexibility? Let me hear your proposal and then we can start this charade.”
With a long-suffering sigh and eyeroll that Ianto idly thought to congratulate him on later, the chair shuffled through his papers and listed the proposal. Ianto kept his face professionally neutral as he watched Sir James’ face harden and work its way through various shades in the puce spectrum. The chair finished and the table as one turned to Sir James in anticipation of his reaction.
“No.”
“Excuse me, Sir James?”
“I said no. You are not cutting our budget by that amount.”
“Sir James, with respect, your project, unlike some of the others around this table, is not a matter of national security. In fact, as far as anyone can ascertain, you represent nothing more than a group of scientists conducting research so out-there, their results are never even published. Mr Cutter…”
“Professor Cutter,” Sir James interrupted.
“Professor Cutter and his team, one of whom is barely out of university and therefore clearly not worth this kind of investment, have made no recordable progress into anything it appears and we are also led to believe that you have recently experienced a high turnover in staff. Another research assistant left at short notice, no explanations given, and even your own assistant was so miserable he apparently left the country so quickly he neglected to leave a forwarding address.”
Ianto was enjoying this game of verbal tennis and turned his attention back to Sir James again. And his enjoyment was sapped from him immediately.
Although the other man’s features were still carefully schooled, Ianto was enough of a pro to see the subtle changes now there meant that the chair's words had got under his skin. Ianto suddenly had the feeling that he, and possibly everyone else around the table, was missing something very important.
“Now, you will listen to me as you do not begin to have the first indication of an idea what you are talking about,” Lester began. “Professor Cutter is the absolute leader in his field. In fact, there is no one else in his field. The reason that no papers are published about the findings of his team is that his research is so cutting edge the rest of the scientific world is not yet ready for it. But, rest assured, the work that is being done by that team today will have significant effects on the world of the future. And hope for your sake that it is the distant future.
“And while I am talking about the science team, let me assure you that straight from university or not, Connor Temple, while admittedly lacking a taste of any of the finer things in life, possesses quite a singular mind and the project would be many years further behind if we did not have him working with the Professor.
“And whilst the…emigration…of my assistant was indeed unfortunate I will not have his name mentioned in the same breath as Stephen Hart, or “another research assistant” as your faceless paperwork would have him known. Hart was a brave, selfless individual whose…decision to leave… was not taken lightly by anyone and he is still sorely missed by the team.
“So I say again; no, I will not accept your budgetary “offer”. In fact, unless I hear otherwise from the minister himself, I will be making no changes at all to how my operation is run.”
With that, Sir James pushed back his chair, picked up his briefcase and exited the room. Ianto watched him go before standing himself, giving a curt nod to the chair and following him out.
“Sir James! Sir James, wait!” Ianto called after the man.
Sir James paused and turned to see who was calling him. Confusion crossed his face for a moment before being replaced with a flash of recognition as Ianto neared him.
“You. I remember you.” His face turned quizzical for a moment. “Were you in there?”
“Ah, yes. You know, one of those necessary evils. I just wanted to say, the way you defended your team in there, it was, well, very impressive, sir.” Ianto held out his hand.
Sir James studied him for a moment and took his hand and shook it.
“I do seem to remember that you had a very good taste in suits as well as coffee.” Sir James looked at his watch. “I have some time before I have to get back to the office, maybe we could go and sample some of both.”
“That sounds like an excellent suggestion, sir.”
As Ianto followed Sir James out of the Home Office and accepted a lift in his car he fingered a small vial in his pocket. He had a feeling about Sir James and his mysterious project; there was a look about him he recognised. But there was always retcon if he was wrong.