REC: Det[God]ails by amand-r (17+)
Jan. 18th, 2010 11:49 pmTitle: Det[god]ails
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Ianto, Jack (Ianto/Ianto, Ianto/Jack)
Author on LJ:
amand_r
Author Website: Fic Tag
Why this must be read:
Because Torchwood is a rare fandom where even the crack isn't all that cracky. This lovely little story is the perfect example of how something harmless can, in Torchwood, take on meanings that are darker and at the same time, funnier, than they otherwise would.
Excerpt: Ianto had been running on about three hours of sleep, and so when he had walked into himself in the Hub, he wasn't as surprised as, in retrospect, he should have been.
His other self was pretty much him, except that instead of the same rumpled suit that Ianto hadn't had a chance to change in forty-eight hours, he was wearing denims and a t shirt for a band that Ianto secretly liked but didn't dare mention to anyone. And his other self, while looking about his age, was a little thinner, a little grayer.
And he was decaling the Torchwood logo on one of the clear Plexiglas walls of the old conference room. His brow was drawn in concentration, and he ran the plastic comb over the vinyl of the decal with quick zwip sounds. A post carrier bag was slung across one shoulder, and Ianto could see decal sheets and rolls of larger labels sticking haphazardly from it.
He felt for his gun, and then realised that it was back at his desk. He had to remember to stay armed, even in the Hub (or Christ, especially in the Hub), no matter what Gwen said to Mickey about disarming when they were in house. He set the files he was carrying on the closest surface, and instead looked about for anything that could be used as a weapon.
The closest thing was an umbrella. It would have to do, because he'd just kicked a rubbish bin, and the metal clanged loudly.
"Oh hullo," the other Ianto, who Ianto had told himself to think of as Ianto II, said, spinning and making a cringing face. "This is inconvenient." He stared off into space as if trying to remember something before shaking his head. "Don't shoot…" He stared at Ianto's hands. "The umbrella?"
Det[god]ails
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Ianto, Jack (Ianto/Ianto, Ianto/Jack)
Author on LJ:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Author Website: Fic Tag
Why this must be read:
Because Torchwood is a rare fandom where even the crack isn't all that cracky. This lovely little story is the perfect example of how something harmless can, in Torchwood, take on meanings that are darker and at the same time, funnier, than they otherwise would.
Excerpt: Ianto had been running on about three hours of sleep, and so when he had walked into himself in the Hub, he wasn't as surprised as, in retrospect, he should have been.
His other self was pretty much him, except that instead of the same rumpled suit that Ianto hadn't had a chance to change in forty-eight hours, he was wearing denims and a t shirt for a band that Ianto secretly liked but didn't dare mention to anyone. And his other self, while looking about his age, was a little thinner, a little grayer.
And he was decaling the Torchwood logo on one of the clear Plexiglas walls of the old conference room. His brow was drawn in concentration, and he ran the plastic comb over the vinyl of the decal with quick zwip sounds. A post carrier bag was slung across one shoulder, and Ianto could see decal sheets and rolls of larger labels sticking haphazardly from it.
He felt for his gun, and then realised that it was back at his desk. He had to remember to stay armed, even in the Hub (or Christ, especially in the Hub), no matter what Gwen said to Mickey about disarming when they were in house. He set the files he was carrying on the closest surface, and instead looked about for anything that could be used as a weapon.
The closest thing was an umbrella. It would have to do, because he'd just kicked a rubbish bin, and the metal clanged loudly.
"Oh hullo," the other Ianto, who Ianto had told himself to think of as Ianto II, said, spinning and making a cringing face. "This is inconvenient." He stared off into space as if trying to remember something before shaking his head. "Don't shoot…" He stared at Ianto's hands. "The umbrella?"
Det[god]ails