Torchwood Advent Challenge - 12th December

[m_findlow]

Title: Pushing for promotion
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Lisa, Yvonne Hartman
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,464 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for prompt "Let's get down to brass tacks, here..."
Summary: Ianto is caught between a rock and a hard place

Ianto felt ridiculously nervous, standing there outside the frosted glass walls of her office. There was no anteroom where he could sit and fidget, to wait out his own anxiety. Instead there was just a large open air office, filled with people working busily away, all connected and tapped into some higher order by their earpieces. They might have looked just like him, in their neat power suits and skirts, but he knew that he wasn't one of them.

Why had he let Lisa talk him into this? Was it just to stop her constant nagging across the kitchen bench over breakfast and tea?

'You've just had your annual appraisal. If you don't ask now, you'll have to wait another whole year,' she said.

'I'm happy doing to what I'm doing,' he argued, but staring down into his coffee mug as he said it. How happy could someone be doing spreadsheets and carting around files?

She sighed dramatically. 'Ianto, you're so much better than that. You're the smartest person I know.'

'That's not saying much.'

'Hey,' she said, slapping him playfully. 'It is. Now listen, I've put in a few favours and begged HR to get you a slot with Yvonne.'

He nearly spat out his coffee. 'You did what?'

'Chillax. It's only ten minutes. I couldn't get more. Just put your case forward. She's already heard it from me, but it'll be better coming from you. It's not as if she doesn't know who you are already.'

He didn't want to mention that it was something of a fluke she'd called him for assistance on a case. He was just the stupid one who was still at the office when the phone rang. It wasn't even his phone. He'd just answered it out of professionalism. If someone was calling at close to midnight, he'd just assumed they must really need to speak to someone. Even if that someone was only lowly little him.

'Just do it for me? Please?' she begged. 'What have you got to lose?'

He hated it when she gave him that look, knowing he'd cave into it immediately. Damn emotional blackmail. Of course he'd do it.

 

None of the other people in the office outside even seemed to notice him standing there, tugging at his cufflinks and brushing down the end of his jacket. They all had more important things to do than worry about why one lowly level seven clerk was standing around waiting. He checked his watch again. Ten twenty-nine. He'd arrived ten minutes early, but it felt like he'd been standing out here for an eternity. At ten thirty exactly, the door clicked open, a slender hand wrapped around its handle, and even more slender legs filled his view where he'd been staring at his own shoes. He slipped inside, unnoticed by anyone.

'Ah, Mr Jones. How very nice to see you. Sit, sit,' she said, indicating the uncomfortable looking chair opposite her desk. She slid into her own high-backed leather chair, brushing a stray blonde hair back into position.

'Thank you, ma'am,' he said, sitting down before his legs gave out underneath him.

'Oh, no need to thank me. And that little Welsh accent of yours is just adorable. I can see why Lisa fancies you. So much better than those horrible Cockneys.'

The small talk made him even more nervous. He'd never been good at it, and in this situation what was he supposed to say in return? You look lovely today? Have you had your hair done? Instead he chose to keep quiet.

'Now, I understand that you wanted to discuss your recent performance appraisal?'

He expected a slim file to be sat on her desk, with his name printed on it in very small print. Instead there was nothing on the clear glass surface, giving him a view of those legs again, crossed at the end of her skirt. Don't look there, he told himself. He swallowed hard. He'd never liked talking about himself, and liked blowing his own trumpet even less.

'Um, yes. As noted in my review I have put in a lot of additional hours and assisted with a number of projects that would be considered outside the scope of my duties.' It was a slight embellishment of the truth. Those particular projects were things that no one else had wanted to do, that had been lumped on him as the lowest ranked clerk. That he didn't find them nearly as mindless as everyone else was just attributed to his endless patience, and insistence that everything be done to his own exacting standards.

'I feel that I have contributed over and above what is expected, and would like to be challenged further.' That had been the line Lisa had given him. He'd practiced it until it sounded semi-genuine.

She tugged off her reading glasses and laid them on the desk before leaning forward and clasping her hands on the desk. Her smile was congenial. 'Ianto, darling, do you mind if I call you darling?'

He nodded imperceptibly though he was sure she wasn't waiting for his approval, nor particularly cared.

'Ianto, darling,' she began again, 'let's get down to brass tacks, here... I have over eighteen hundred people here. If I had to promote every person just because they put in a few extra hours here and there, well...'

'So... that's a no, then.' He said it as a statement rather than a question.

'Now, don't get me wrong. I'm very grateful for your help whilst I was in Cardiff.' She leaned further forward. 'And just in case anyone asks about that, it's all a bit hush hush, if you understand me. I'm not saying that you can't work towards a promotion. All I'm saying is that, well... some people are just made for Torchwood, and others are not so much. That's not to say they can't play a valuable role. We still need people to make the coffee and deliver files around the office,' she said, smiling and chortling, as if it were self evident that he fell into the latter category. She must have seen something in his countenance that made her change what she was going to say next.

'You're very sweet, Ianto, and I like you. Otherwise I wouldn't even entertain your request. I can tell there's a keen mind in there if you'd just put it to good use. Lisa always has lovely things to say about you. I like her. She's feisty and sharp, says what she means, and doesn't dilly dally about.' Yvonne smiled in an amused way. 'She reminds me of myself a little bit. She'll go places, you mark my words. She needs someone like you to balance out her personality. Someone who won't threaten her career development. She's what I'd call Torchwood material.'

It was hard not to take that personally. He loved Lisa with every fibre of his being; else why would he be here now? But if he read things correctly, the only career move he would be making was from a level seven employee to chief coffee maker for level six employees. Even that was a step backwards. Currently, his coffee making talents had only been uncovered by a handful of staff, and those were level threes who'd gotten fed up with their level four personal assistants forever having to go down the street to fetch them a decent coffee.

Yvonne reached forward across the desk. Where her hand was, he also caught another glimpse of her legs under the desk. The hemline on that skirt was very well made, he noticed. She wasn't shopping at Debenhams for something that fine in quality. Stop admiring the fabric! he told himself.

'I commend you on your initiative and enterprise,' Yvonne continued, oblivious to his assessment of her wardrobe. 'People like you are an asset to this great organisation, and I look forward to many more years of leal service to your country and your Monarch. There can be no greater honor than that. Now, I'm sure you have a lot of work to do, so I shan't hold you up a moment longer,' she said, standing up and indicating he should do the same, smiling all the while. 'But if you ever have any concerns, you know my door is always open.'

'Thank you, ma'am,' he replied, unsure what exactly it was he was thanking her for. Somehow he got the feeling he was leaving with less than what he'd started with.

'Oh, and Ianto darling?'

'Yes, ma'am?'

'Buy some flowers for that lovely girlfriend of yours. She works very hard and deserves a little something nice, don't you think?'

'Yes, ma'am,' he agreed. Hopefully the flowers would distract her from asking him how his meeting had gone.

Comments

[jo02]

Oooh this was a little bit scary. You captured shark-like Yvonne very well.