Fffc Bingo Card - Loss of appetite

[m_findlow]

Title: Loss of appetite 
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: none 
Author notes: Written for Bingo Card Prompt 71 - Lunch at fffc
Summary: Jack would rather skip lunch on this occasion. 

'Do I have to?' Jack whined. He squirmed as Ianto wrapped his arms around Jack's neck to slide the tie into place, going about his business to finish off tying it with a dab hand, as if he couldn't trust Jack to do it himself. He probably wouldn't have either. Just having it around his neck felt like it was strangling him. There was a reason he didn't wear ties and he didn't see why he had to wear one now, either. 

'I hate these things,' he said, squirming again despite Ianto's deft movements, fighting against the inevitable. 

'I know you do,' Ianto replied, 'but it makes you look smart.' 

Jack gave him a look. 'Because I looked stupid before?' 

Ianto smirked. 'Now you're putting words in my mouth. I think you are the smartest person I know, except for maybe Tosh.' 

Jack swatted his hands away for a moment. 'So why do I have to wear this stupid monkey suit then, huh?' 

'You wear a dress shirt every day of the week. All I'm asking is for you to add a tie and a nice jacket over the top.' 

Jack groaned and let Ianto finish what he'd started. 'You're coming with me, aren't you?' 

Ianto raised a curious eyebrow at him. 'I wasn't planning on it.' 

'Please?' Jack put on his best begging voice. 'It'll be that much less painful with you there.' 

'I don't see how,' he replied. 'Anyway, it's just lunch.'

'With the First Minister! What are we supposed to talk about, anyway?' 

'Well, I expect he'll want to discuss Torchwood, since you're the only person he can speak to about Torchwood.' 

Jack groaned quietly. 'Great. The most secret organisation in the world and it's what we're going to talk about over dinner rolls and sparkling water?' 

Ianto ran a hand down the navy blue silk, preening it into place. 'I doubt you'll be getting into specifics. If it bothers you that much, ask him to replace the word Torchwood in the conversation with something like "The Department".' 

'I can do that?'

'You outrank him. Of course you can.' 

Jack grabbed his hand before he could step away. 'See, this is why I need you there. I hate all this schmoozing and politicking.' 

'But you hate it even more when people from the Sennedd appeal for money to fix things and go crawling to the First Minister, badmouthing us. This is your chance to set the record straight. Besides, you never seem to have a problem with telling people over the phone that they don't know what they're talking about and all the hard work we've done. This is just more of the same, only in person, and perhaps with a little less condescension.' 

Jack bristled at that last comment. 'I'm not condescending. Am I?' 

'And a tad arrogant,' Ianto added, 'but they do tend to push your buttons a bit,' he qualified. 

Jack felt his jaw clenched at the accusation. Yes, they did push his buttons, but that was because the people he dealt with were misinformed, self-interested twats. They ran their own departments and organisations and didn't care two figs about Torchwood and the fact that they got to wake up every morning and continue being lazy, ignorant public servants only because Jack and his team had prevented yet another cataclysm from occurring, often at their own personal cost. He rarely called them, except on the odd occasion when someone from one of their departments had done something so completely stupid that there was no option but to get on the phone and find out why the hell he hadn't been warned, consulted or even acknowledged. 

Most of the time however, it was other people calling him. Often people he didn't even deign to speak to - lowly council mayors, heads of departments that had absolutely nothing to do with homeland security, and worst of all, the nosy journalists from trashy tabloids that had been passed his number from a disgruntled government official who had an axe to grind. He usually only kept the last of those on the line just long enough to weed out exactly who had coughed up the private phone line of a top secret organisation so that he could make it his mission to make that person's life a living hell. 

'I can see those gears grinding away,' Ianto said, breaking him from his reverie. 

'Hmm?' 

'Still trying to figure out a way out of having lunch with the highest government official in the country.'

Jack sighed. 'Don't suppose we could fake the world ending?' 

'You'd only be postponing the inevitable. And your tie is perfect now. It'd be a shame to waste that effort.' He held out the crisply dry cleaned and pressed navy blazer for Jack to slip his arm into. 'Besides,' Ianto continued on, 'he's not that bad. I've listened to quite a few conferences and interviews he's done recently and found him to be quite articulate and well informed. He'll no doubt have done his research on you, which is why I made sure Tosh scrubbed some of those less endearing reports and replaced them with a few that put you in good standing.' 

'What? You didn't trust that I could just charm my way into his good graces?' 

'I like to hedge my bets. Not everyone is completely charmed by you.' 

Jack took the comment in the spirit it was intended. 'That's why you're coming. I've yet to meet anyone you can't win over with your polite manner.' 

Ianto smirked. 'Tell that to BBC reporter David Brigstocke. I think his arse still bears an imprint of my foot.'

'Well, let's hope he's not feeling hungry for oysters and fillet mignon today. It'd be a real shame if he decided to harass us at lunch with the First Minister just to get a cheap shot in for the sake of an exposé.'

Ianto frowned unhappily. 'If he did it would be the last one he ever does.'