“I’m under the opinion,” Ianto glanced at his new companion, fingers resting on the counter near his beloved coffee machine. “Anything can be solved with the right cup of coffee. Fights, stress, bad moods…”
Tony Murchison nodded, earnestly, taking in every word Ianto was saying like it was religion. “I agree completely. You know, Ianto, as unfortunate as it is, I’m quite glad the Secret Service happened to fall under alien invasion today of all days. I mean to say, it’s not everyday I get to meet someone as like minded about coffee as myself. Also, as it is Thursday, the distraction should do Control good. He does have an awful time on Thursdays.”
“So does Jack,” Ianto glanced at his boss, who was standing with a dark haired man with a kind expression, speaking quietly. Not to mention all other days of the week, too. “Besides, anyone could make a decent cup of coffee by pressing a button.”
“It’s terribly informal, though,” Tony said, gaze shifting to Control, softening. Ianto knew that look- he’d seen it in the mirror more often than not. “It adds something to be able to know what the receiver likes, and how they like it…”
“What days they need it a little sweeter,” Ianto’s eyes found Jack, who grinned broadly at Ianto, winking. “Sometimes bitter. Sometimes an extra jolt of espresso to get him through the day.”
“Control likes his coffee the same,” Tony commented. “A little bit of milk, not too much, though, and no sugar.”
(For a brief moment, Ianto wondered if they were even talking about coffee anymore)
“But you make it for him by hand,” Ianto pointed out. “The same thing, every day.”
“Eleven o’ clock,” Tony nodded, smiling warmly, eyes on Control. After awhile, the agent seemed to get a bit lost, the smile on his face growing gentler as the Head of the Secret Service caught his eye.
“Right,” Ianto murmured, coaxing his coffee machine into action, as Tony fixed a cup for Control, methodical, not even needing to look at what he was doing. It was impressive, really. Together, they brought their coffee to their respective bosses.
“Perfect as always, Ianto,” Jack beamed, taking a sip, and leaning in close to Ianto. Close enough that Ianto could tilt his head and taste his concoction on Jack’s lips.
“Thank you ever so much, Tony,” Control said to Tony, genuine. “If you don’t mind my saying, it’s terribly good of you to take the time to make me my coffee during an alien invasion. I do so appreciate it.”
“You’re very welcome, Control,” Tony handed Control his cup, fingers brushing Control’s. “Just as you like it, I hope.”
“It is, Tony,” Control nodded. “Just as I like it.”
“If I may be so bold, Control,” Tony’s face was flushed. “You haven’t yet tasted it.”
Jack glanced at Ianto with a knowing grin, sneaking a hand around Ianto’s waist. Ianto didn’t protest. Their guests didn’t seem to realize they existed anymore.
Later on, Jack was sprawled next to Ianto, sated.
“You know,” Jack said. “We’re pretty short staffed. We could do with another team member…or two.”
Ianto rolled his eyes, suppressing a sigh. As if Tony and Control had the qualifications for Torchwood.
“It was the coffee, wasn’t it?” Ianto rolled over, facing Jack, eyes narrowed warningly in the dark.
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timeasmymeasure
And since I love this sort of thing, I figure I can request another.
Date: 2010-09-09 06:45 pm (UTC)Tony Murchison nodded, earnestly, taking in every word Ianto was saying like it was religion. “I agree completely. You know, Ianto, as unfortunate as it is, I’m quite glad the Secret Service happened to fall under alien invasion today of all days. I mean to say, it’s not everyday I get to meet someone as like minded about coffee as myself. Also, as it is Thursday, the distraction should do Control good. He does have an awful time on Thursdays.”
“So does Jack,” Ianto glanced at his boss, who was standing with a dark haired man with a kind expression, speaking quietly. Not to mention all other days of the week, too. “Besides, anyone could make a decent cup of coffee by pressing a button.”
“It’s terribly informal, though,” Tony said, gaze shifting to Control, softening. Ianto knew that look- he’d seen it in the mirror more often than not. “It adds something to be able to know what the receiver likes, and how they like it…”
“What days they need it a little sweeter,” Ianto’s eyes found Jack, who grinned broadly at Ianto, winking. “Sometimes bitter. Sometimes an extra jolt of espresso to get him through the day.”
“Control likes his coffee the same,” Tony commented. “A little bit of milk, not too much, though, and no sugar.”
(For a brief moment, Ianto wondered if they were even talking about coffee anymore)
“But you make it for him by hand,” Ianto pointed out. “The same thing, every day.”
“Eleven o’ clock,” Tony nodded, smiling warmly, eyes on Control. After awhile, the agent seemed to get a bit lost, the smile on his face growing gentler as the Head of the Secret Service caught his eye.
“Right,” Ianto murmured, coaxing his coffee machine into action, as Tony fixed a cup for Control, methodical, not even needing to look at what he was doing. It was impressive, really. Together, they brought their coffee to their respective bosses.
“Perfect as always, Ianto,” Jack beamed, taking a sip, and leaning in close to Ianto. Close enough that Ianto could tilt his head and taste his concoction on Jack’s lips.
“Thank you ever so much, Tony,” Control said to Tony, genuine. “If you don’t mind my saying, it’s terribly good of you to take the time to make me my coffee during an alien invasion. I do so appreciate it.”
“You’re very welcome, Control,” Tony handed Control his cup, fingers brushing Control’s. “Just as you like it, I hope.”
“It is, Tony,” Control nodded. “Just as I like it.”
“If I may be so bold, Control,” Tony’s face was flushed. “You haven’t yet tasted it.”
Jack glanced at Ianto with a knowing grin, sneaking a hand around Ianto’s waist. Ianto didn’t protest. Their guests didn’t seem to realize they existed anymore.
Later on, Jack was sprawled next to Ianto, sated.
“You know,” Jack said. “We’re pretty short staffed. We could do with another team member…or two.”
Ianto rolled his eyes, suppressing a sigh. As if Tony and Control had the qualifications for Torchwood.
“It was the coffee, wasn’t it?” Ianto rolled over, facing Jack, eyes narrowed warningly in the dark.
It was always the coffee.