m_findlow

Title: Incommunicado
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Torchwood team, Rhys, Martha, Andy
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,570 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for wallwalker's prompt "any, any, Where do you go when the party ends? (Busy Being Fabulous)" at fic_promptly
Summary: It's not a proper stag do without a practical joke for the groom.

Tosh fumbled for the phone as it buzzed loudly on the side table, her head ringing, or was it her head that was buzzing and the phone that was ringing? She suddenly realised that she was slightly hungover from last night, and that it was much later in the morning than she'd expected. That also meant that she was very late for a coffee date with Ianto. Either way, she had to answer the phone. He'd be understanding, after all, it was his and Jack's stag do that had resulted in said hangover.

'Hello? Ianto, I'm so sorry. I know I'm totally late.'

'S'okay,' he replied, not sounding much more awake than her. 'I'm not going to be able to make it.'

'Hungover?' she asked.

'Well yes, but that's not exactly the worst of my problems.'

Tosh's heart sank into her stomach. What had happened? Had he and Jack had a falling out last night? She didn't remember seeing any warning signs last night, and the wedding was next weekend.

'Did something happen with Jack?' she asked worriedly.

'No, I don't think so,' Ianto replied, sounding concerned. 'He went home with you last night didn't he?'

Tosh tried to recall the details. It wasn't exactly your conventional stag do, especially since both grooms had the same circle of friends, so it was more of a gathering together than a celebration of their last nights as bachelors. At least it had been up to a point. Jack decided that he wanted to go somewhere where they could go dancing, and the girls being Tosh, Gwen and Martha had all agreed, giggly and bouncing from too much champagne and brightly coloured cocktails, which Jack had also indulged in several. The rest of their party, Owen, Rhys and Andy, had been rather less enthusiastic, Ianto included, and agreed to stay where they were and keep drinking. Thus their party had become divided and gone their separate ways.

The details of their clubbing afterwards were a little hazy, though she was fairly certain she remembered Jack and Martha sharing a cab back to Martha's hotel, Jack still wearing a bright pink tiara that said "princess" on it, which he'd inherited from some girls who were having their own hens night, whilst she and Gwen headed back to her place. Gwen was still fast asleep on the other side of her bed, not bothering to head all the way home, arguing that she'd only have to listen to Rhys's drunken snoring all night.

'I'm sure he's fine,' she said reassuringly. 'Why don't you give him a call if you're worried?'

'I can't.'

'Why not?'

'Because then he'll want to know where I am.'

Tosh felt immediately sobered. That didn't sound good. 'Ianto talk to me. You're not having second thoughts, are you? It's just pre wedding jitters.'

'No, of course not.' He didn't sound at all well.

'Where are you? I'll come over and we can talk.'

'You can't.'

'Why not?'

There was a slight hesitation on the other end of the line. 'I'm in Madrid.'

Tosh thought she must have misheard. 'I don't understand. How can you be in Madrid?'

'I-, Owen, take the phone, I think I'm going to be sick.'

Tosh heard a clamor on the other end of the line as she heard footsteps retreating as her best friend seemed to be running off towards a bathroom. She wasn't entirely sure he made it, judging by the retching sounds fading into the background. Even more bizarrely, Owen was there with him. In Madrid, she reminded herself.

'Hello sweetie,' Owen chimed, watching as his friend heaved into a nearby rubbish bin, much to the displeasure of the people walking past.

'Don't you hello sweetie me, Owen Harper,' Tosh scolded. 'What the hell is going on?'

At this point Gwen woke to the sound of Tosh's annoyed tone and began listening to her side of the conversation, her clothes rumpled and hair sticking out at all odd angles, all forgotten in the moment.

'It's fine. We're all fine.'

'We?'

'Yeah, well me and Ianto and Rhys and Andy. We're all here.'

'In Madrid,' she repeated, hoping Ianto had somehow gotten the location wrong, and that Owen was about to say, "No, don't be ridiculous. We're in Swansea.".

'The airport to be exact,' he confirmed.

Tosh pinched the bridge of her nose, sitting up properly and tucking her feet back under the warm duvet. 'And how did you come to be there?'

'I don't remember whose idea it was. We all just thought it would be fun to go and be spontaneous.'

'I can't believe you got Ianto drunk and the decided to ship him off to Spain, and thought that was a good idea!'

'He wasn't exactly innocent in all of this,' Owen bristled. 'If I recall correctly, he was the one booking the tickets whilst we were in the cab on the way to the airport.'

Tosh rubbed a hand over her face. When had she ever thought Owen was the clever one she wanted to be engaged to? Gwen caught the look of concern on her face, and the phrase "ship Ianto off to Spain".

'I still don't understand how you managed to get out of the country without passports. Four drunken men try to get on a jet to Spain and nobody asks questions?'

'I may have flashed them some Torchwood credentials,' he cringed, as the details of last night's adventures came back to him.

'And they were stupid enough to believe you?'

It's not Heathrow, it's Cardiff airport. Security is not their thing. Besides, they were probably glad to be rid of us. Look, it's fine. As soon as we landed with no passport, they took us in for questioning.'

Owen could hear Gwen's voice in the background, getting the rest of the story from Tosh in snippets, and asking if Rhys was there. Then he heard the very firm words, "Hand me the phone, Tosh," and he knew they were in for a bollocking.

Owen looked over at their motley group. Andy was still fast asleep, mouth hanging open as he lounged across four chairs, his long body oblivious to their rock hard features. Ianto was leaned over on another chair nearby, head between his legs, looking like death run over. Rhys was standing next to him, looking on disconsolately, hungover but fairing reasonably well, and trying to offer his companion a bottle of water. Ianto had taken it harder than the rest of them, less accustomed to the binge drinking night they'd had. He'd gone from passed out on the plane, to frantic at being arrested at the airport gates, and now was coming crashing down from the hangover and lack of adrenaline and sleep.

'Owen,' Gwen's sharp voice bit through the residual of his own hangover. 'Put Rhys on the phone now!'

'Oi,' he called over to their posse. 'Missus wants a word with you,' he said, stretching the phone out in Rhys's direction.

'Bloody hell,' he muttered, looking like a man condemned. 'Morning lovely,' he chirped, hoping for the same treatment Owen had been earlier. After a few minutes of painful looking exchange, Rhys gladly handed the phone back to Owen.

'So what happens now?' Tosh asked, Gwen apparently having finished venting her anger and disappointment at her husband.

'We're being officially deported. Just waiting for the flight back.'

Ianto had gotten up and was coming over to stand next to him, trying to take the phone back as Owen swatted his efforts away, and continued talking to Tosh. 'Bugger off,' he said to Ianto.

'Please don't tell Jack what happened,' Tosh heard Ianto moaning in the background. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to manage that. No doubt Jack would be wondering why Ianto hadn't come home, and start calling his phone. When that didn't work, she knew who he'd be calling next for an explanation. Even if she and Gwen could keep a lid on it, chances were good that Owen had no intention not capitalising on this. He'd happily share in the blame, knowing that Jack would be more amused than annoyed, and that he'd get good mileage reminding Ianto of this for years to come.

'I suppose you'll be wanting someone to come and pick you up from the airport as well?' she huffed.

'I love you,' Owen simpered, hoping it would be enough to win her over.

'Just be lucky the wedding isn't today. You would have ruined everything.' Owen could tell it was going to take more than chocolates and flowers to apologise for this one.

Owen finally ended the call and handed the phone back to a miserable looking Ianto. Unlike Andy and Rhys, he hadn't managed any sleep in the hard plastic chairs of the departure lounge. Andy's snoring was the only sound that punctuated the three of them sitting there, lost in their own thoughts.

'You sure you still want to do this, mate?' Rhys asked. 'Not too late to call the wedding off.'

'Why would I call it off?' Ianto replied miserably.

'You really want shares in what we just went through?'

'Don't worry,' said Owen, 'Nine times out of ten it'll be Teaboy dishing out on Jack. You're the lucky one mate.' he added, patting him on the shoulder.

Right now, lucky was not the overriding emotion he felt. Nausea definitely won that competition.