m_findlow

Title: Keep calm and put someone on decaf
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: M
Length: 500 words
Content notes: Some naughty words lie herein...
Author notes: Written for jujitsuelf's prompt "any, any, hey, watch your language" at fic_promptly
Summary: Ianto Jones can only put up with so much

Ianto had learnt to put up with a lot of things working for Torchwood.

Sometimes it was artefacts being dumped haphazardly in the archives, or worse, just left sitting around the main area of the hub. At least they could have the courtesy to dump them on his desk in the archives main antechamber. That way they had a hope of being returned to their proper place, so that if, God help them, they needed it in an emergency, there was a chance they could locate it in time to save the planet.

Other times it was coffee mugs left on the boardroom table without a coaster underneath them. Honestly, didn't they realise the damage it did to the table, not to mention the extra time spent scrubbing the offending ring marks off the otherwise pristine surface?

Then there was the paperwork. Ianto had lost track of the very long list of misdemeanors that accompanied Torchwood operatives completing the requisite documents and reports. From late submissions, to dog-eared corners that looked like they might have been chewed by a weevil. Not to mention bad spelling, which he couldn't fathom since they used computers. Wasn't that what spell check was for?

The general state of the hub and the SUV had come under constant scrutiny too. Pizza boxes, sweets wrappers, human blood, alien blood. It didn't seem to matter who the culprit was, it was always Ianto's job to tidy up the mess left in their wake.

And despite everything, Ianto put up with it. He'd accepted that it was just part of his job. He would simply take a deep breath, survey the situation and just get on with things. Sometimes when things were really bad, he might get annoyed or even angry about some particularly offensive matter. Even then he'd learned that getting angry about it rarely solved anything. He'd take another deep breath and count to four. Then someone might be put on decaf. Just as a gentle reminder that whatever they'd done was wrong.

This morning however he'd entered the hub to find it in complete disarray. Even in the first few weeks they'd been house training Myfanwy, things had never gotten this bad.

Every man had his limits, even one as patient and forgiving as Ianto Jones, but this was totally unacceptable, inexcusable and just downright, well, he couldn't even find the words.

Chastising his turbulent mind for the vengeful thoughts already forming, he did what he always did.

Take a deep breath Jones, and one, two, three...

Then he saw it, the shattered ceramics on the floor, the dented and twisted metal, and something, what was that, yes, that was the spout for the milk steamer.

'Jack, what the fuck have you done to my coffee machine! You're not getting and fucking sex for a week! No, scratch that, you're never getting any sex ever again! Ever! Do you hear me Harkness? You will be fucking, fuckless forever!'

'Hey! Watch your language! I can explain!'