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m_findlowTitle: Far from perfect
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: Minor spoilers for Big Finish audioplay “Serenity Plaza”
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: Minor spoilers for Big Finish audioplay “Serenity Plaza”
Author notes: Written for Challenge 244 - Picture-perfect at ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly
fandomweeklySummary: Ianto is having difficulty trying to figure out which parts of their lives are real and which parts are being made up.
‘Honey! I’m home!’ Jack yelled down the hallway.
Ianto dropped the tea towel, wishing Jack didn’t sound so much like he was enjoying saying that every single day when he came home. All for show, Ianto reminded himself as he went to greet him. All for bloody show.
‘You’re a sight for sore eyes!’ Ianto said, playing along, receiving the daily welcome back kiss for his troubles. Never got one of those at work, he thought. Had to be some perks.
Jack dropped his coat on the back of the sofa. ‘How was your day, honey? How are you getting on with the neighbours?’ He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Is the cover story holding up okay?’
Ianto toyed with the ring on his finger. It was proper gold, though where Jack had just magicked up two gold wedding bands he could only guess, and his imagination could run wild with the possibilities, but it felt rather strange seeing it there. Jack wasn’t the marrying type. He was barely the monogamous relationship type. It didn't pay to dwell on thoughts like that for too long. This was just a temporary assignment; a ruse, make believe, pretend happily married couple territory. All of it just for show, to paper over the things that their perception filter couldn't alter about them. Sometimes it felt like Ianto didn’t have to try at all. They could bicker as well as any couple.
Would the outside world really believe that they were a married couple? Of course they were a couple of sorts, in the real world, but the real world was messy and complicated, and their relationship wasn’t immune to any of that. There were times when Ianto wasn’t even sure what their current status was. Were they together-together? Were they just using each other as a convenient way to satisfy needs? Maybe they were both in it for different reasons.
Ianto couldn't help how he felt about Jack, but he was often left wondering just how much of those feelings were genuinely reciprocated. Jack seemed to fancy him and care about him, but he was just so aloof most of the time that it drove Ianto crazy. He almost wished that they could have a moment where they laid all their cards out on the table, just so he knew where he stood. Then again, he might be embarrassed to admit that he was in love with Jack, especially if Jack didn't admit the same. He’d feel foolish and probably try to break things off, not because he wanted to, but because it would be easier to look the man in the eye every day without having Jack see him as being hopelessly dependent. He pulled his fingers away from the ring, forcing it back into place as just a piece of costume jewellery that held no significance.
He cleared his throat and swallowed back all those thoughts swirling around in his head, realising he hadn’t yet answered Jack’s question. ‘Oh, you know. They're all sunshine and rainbows, bake sales and perfectly manicured lawns.’
If he was honest, he wasn’t sure they'd even notice if Jack and Ianto’s cover story held up under scrutiny. They didn’t seem to be the scrutinising type. He’d assumed that neighbours like these would be super nosy and into everybody’s business, gossiping endlessly about Diane’s new haircut or Bob’s car due for an upgrade, or what exactly did an executive manager at a department store do all day? That had been Jack's cover for his occupation, which kept him away from nine till five, five days a week. It was so vague an occupation that even Ianto was struggling to make up lies about what his fake-husband did all day. Or maybe that was all part of the ruse. House husbands didn’t need to know what their breadwinning other halves did all day. They were meant to be the less intelligent trophy spouses, content to stay home all day, cooking and cleaning and making the place picture-perfect for when their husbands came home after a long, hard day, there ready with a glass of wine and a foot massage whilst dinner finished cooking. God it was humiliating. Ianto did not like pretending to be a kept man.
‘I told them I'm an architect,’ he blurted out.
‘What?’
‘I know, I know. I went a bit off script,’ he apologised. ‘I just couldn't take any more of them thinking I was some bimbo that took joy in sitting home watching mindless television reruns in between dusting and mopping. I’m on a break though,’ he clarified. ‘The job was getting too stressful and we didn’t need the money. Maybe I'll work for myself one day, just taking on the odd project here and there, keeping sharp, so to speak.’
Jack raised a curious eyebrow at him. ‘You really have taken this whole cover story thing quite seriously, haven’t you?’
‘You’re not the one that has to face all their questions about our daily lives on the walk down to the shops and back,’ he replied. ‘You get a few comments at the Sunday barbecues and that’s it. I have to face them every day. I had to say something to explain why I wasn't working. They all think we're readying to have kids or something.’
‘Oh?’ Jack’s smile grew teasing. ‘Are we? Which of us is getting pregnant? You’d look pretty hot like that.’
Ianto slapped him. ‘It's not funny!’
Jack threw his hands up. ‘Okay! Okay!’ he said, resting his hands on Ianto’s hips. ‘You’re my gorgeous, amazingly smart, architect husband who’s on a mental health break.’
‘Mental breakdown if we have to be here very much longer,’ Ianto muttered.
Jack pulled him closer. ‘It’ll be fine. Us together as the perfect couple. What could be easier? Those nosy neighbours can pry all they want.’
‘Just so long as they don’t pry too hard,’ Ianto warned him. ‘We’d have a hell of a time explaining our real lives.’
‘Honey! I’m home!’ Jack yelled down the hallway.
Ianto dropped the tea towel, wishing Jack didn’t sound so much like he was enjoying saying that every single day when he came home. All for show, Ianto reminded himself as he went to greet him. All for bloody show.
‘You’re a sight for sore eyes!’ Ianto said, playing along, receiving the daily welcome back kiss for his troubles. Never got one of those at work, he thought. Had to be some perks.
Jack dropped his coat on the back of the sofa. ‘How was your day, honey? How are you getting on with the neighbours?’ He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Is the cover story holding up okay?’
Ianto toyed with the ring on his finger. It was proper gold, though where Jack had just magicked up two gold wedding bands he could only guess, and his imagination could run wild with the possibilities, but it felt rather strange seeing it there. Jack wasn’t the marrying type. He was barely the monogamous relationship type. It didn't pay to dwell on thoughts like that for too long. This was just a temporary assignment; a ruse, make believe, pretend happily married couple territory. All of it just for show, to paper over the things that their perception filter couldn't alter about them. Sometimes it felt like Ianto didn’t have to try at all. They could bicker as well as any couple.
Would the outside world really believe that they were a married couple? Of course they were a couple of sorts, in the real world, but the real world was messy and complicated, and their relationship wasn’t immune to any of that. There were times when Ianto wasn’t even sure what their current status was. Were they together-together? Were they just using each other as a convenient way to satisfy needs? Maybe they were both in it for different reasons.
Ianto couldn't help how he felt about Jack, but he was often left wondering just how much of those feelings were genuinely reciprocated. Jack seemed to fancy him and care about him, but he was just so aloof most of the time that it drove Ianto crazy. He almost wished that they could have a moment where they laid all their cards out on the table, just so he knew where he stood. Then again, he might be embarrassed to admit that he was in love with Jack, especially if Jack didn't admit the same. He’d feel foolish and probably try to break things off, not because he wanted to, but because it would be easier to look the man in the eye every day without having Jack see him as being hopelessly dependent. He pulled his fingers away from the ring, forcing it back into place as just a piece of costume jewellery that held no significance.
He cleared his throat and swallowed back all those thoughts swirling around in his head, realising he hadn’t yet answered Jack’s question. ‘Oh, you know. They're all sunshine and rainbows, bake sales and perfectly manicured lawns.’
If he was honest, he wasn’t sure they'd even notice if Jack and Ianto’s cover story held up under scrutiny. They didn’t seem to be the scrutinising type. He’d assumed that neighbours like these would be super nosy and into everybody’s business, gossiping endlessly about Diane’s new haircut or Bob’s car due for an upgrade, or what exactly did an executive manager at a department store do all day? That had been Jack's cover for his occupation, which kept him away from nine till five, five days a week. It was so vague an occupation that even Ianto was struggling to make up lies about what his fake-husband did all day. Or maybe that was all part of the ruse. House husbands didn’t need to know what their breadwinning other halves did all day. They were meant to be the less intelligent trophy spouses, content to stay home all day, cooking and cleaning and making the place picture-perfect for when their husbands came home after a long, hard day, there ready with a glass of wine and a foot massage whilst dinner finished cooking. God it was humiliating. Ianto did not like pretending to be a kept man.
‘I told them I'm an architect,’ he blurted out.
‘What?’
‘I know, I know. I went a bit off script,’ he apologised. ‘I just couldn't take any more of them thinking I was some bimbo that took joy in sitting home watching mindless television reruns in between dusting and mopping. I’m on a break though,’ he clarified. ‘The job was getting too stressful and we didn’t need the money. Maybe I'll work for myself one day, just taking on the odd project here and there, keeping sharp, so to speak.’
Jack raised a curious eyebrow at him. ‘You really have taken this whole cover story thing quite seriously, haven’t you?’
‘You’re not the one that has to face all their questions about our daily lives on the walk down to the shops and back,’ he replied. ‘You get a few comments at the Sunday barbecues and that’s it. I have to face them every day. I had to say something to explain why I wasn't working. They all think we're readying to have kids or something.’
‘Oh?’ Jack’s smile grew teasing. ‘Are we? Which of us is getting pregnant? You’d look pretty hot like that.’
Ianto slapped him. ‘It's not funny!’
Jack threw his hands up. ‘Okay! Okay!’ he said, resting his hands on Ianto’s hips. ‘You’re my gorgeous, amazingly smart, architect husband who’s on a mental health break.’
‘Mental breakdown if we have to be here very much longer,’ Ianto muttered.
Jack pulled him closer. ‘It’ll be fine. Us together as the perfect couple. What could be easier? Those nosy neighbours can pry all they want.’
‘Just so long as they don’t pry too hard,’ Ianto warned him. ‘We’d have a hell of a time explaining our real lives.’
