TW Fic: Four Hundred and Twenty Millilitres of Proof

[out_there]

Title: Four Hundred and Twenty Millilitres of Proof
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: G
Word count: 1000
Notes: Written for picfor1000. Prompt is below. Thanks to scribewraith for betaing.

Summary: "The ceiling's leaking," Ianto said.





Ianto was standing outside Jack's door. He'd been waiting patiently for the last two minutes while Jack was on the phone, but he was holding the red clipboard. He only used that when he was starting to get frustrated.

Thinking that he'd have to deal with it sooner or later, Jack waved him inside. "Go ahead, Ianto. I'm on hold."

Whatever caused the red clipboard had annoyed Ianto so much that he didn't even raise an eyebrow for waiting as Jack listened to Boys of Summer. "The ceiling's leaking," Ianto said.

Jack's first instinct was to lean back in his chair and look up. He probably shouldn't have done that while he had his ankles crossed over the edge of his desk. There was a precarious moment where he almost overbalanced. "Ceiling looks fine to me."

"Not here," Ianto said, voice clipped and irritated. "In the Tourist Office."

"Sure?" Jack shouldn't have asked, but he couldn't help it. The phone started to play Hotel California. "I remember what happened last time someone said the roof was leaking."

"Yes, Myfanwy was leaking. If you remember, I was the one who had to explain it to Owen." Ianto shifted the clipboard in his arms, resting it over his left forearm. "I was also the one who originally said that a creature that big needed to be toilet trained."

"So it's definitely not Myfanwy?"

"Not in the Tourist Office," Ianto replied testily. "It's water. I have proof."

"Proof?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Four hundred and twenty millilitres of proof."

Jack liked a challenge. Picking up his earpiece and hooking it on, Jack transferred the call to Gwen. "Gwen, if someone with a pulse answers this, can you come get me?"

Her reply sounded slightly frazzled. "Sure, Jack, as soon as it's answered," she said quickly, leaving Jack in no doubt that she was currently buying more linen on eBay.

"Thanks," he said, then stood up and nodded at Ianto. "Show me your proof."

A quick nod. Ianto led him upstairs, then into the small side office and pointed to four clear measuring flasks sitting along the window ledge. They were mostly full of a clear liquid, and the sunshine caught on the glass, reflecting brightly onto the smooth concrete.

"It's not raining," Jack said.

"Even in Wales, the weather occasionally does that."

"I meant that the roof can't be leaking if it's not raining outside," Jack said as Ianto started walking out of the office. He followed Ianto, stopping beside him at the counter. "Where was the supposed leak-- Yargh!"

It wasn't a dignified noise but having ice-cold water drip straight down the back of his collar wasn't a dignified experience, either.

"That would be the supposed leak," Ianto said. The smirk was only in his tone.

Jack took two big steps backwards and watched as the next drop landed on the concrete floor. He looked up but it was hard to tell which of the dark patches on the dingy ceiling were shadows, dirt or damp plaster.

"There are times I miss working for Torchwood One." Ianto sighed. "We had a maintenance department."

"We have a maintenance--" Jack stopped when he spotted Ianto's long-suffering expression. "--guy."

"We have a UNIT technician that you sweet-talk into coming over and fixing our plumbing. That's not the same thing."

Jack looked back to the ceiling. It was only dripping water. It couldn't be that hard to repair. "Maybe I could fix it."

Ianto laughed softly. It was the same sound he made when Jack brushed lightly behind his knees and found unexpected ticklish spots. Then the smile sharpened into a smirk. "Oh, were you being serious?"

"I'm a handy guy."

"When you're holding a gun. I don't think shooting the water pipe will help."

Jack pressed two hands flat on the counter and pushed himself up. Kneeling first, then standing, Jack turned towards the source of the leak.

"You're getting footprints on my brochures," Ianto said, but didn't make a move to clear the surface. Over the last week, Ianto had casually mentioned -- three separate times -- that the brochures were getting dog-eared and needed to be replaced, so the objection was on principle only.

Propping an arm on the ceiling, Jack leaned forward to get a closer look.

"Then we'll order new ones," he said, and Ianto stepped forward to steady him with a hand on each of Jack's legs. Jack appreciated it: if he fell and cracked his skull open, he wouldn't stay dead but the bruises would be painful. "How did you know it was water pipes?"

"I checked the blueprints in the archive."

Trusting Ianto to keep him balanced, Jack reached out to the big dark mark on the ceiling. It left a damp, dirty smudge on his palm. "Why do we have water pipes in the ceiling?"

"Because we have secret tunnels under the floor," Ianto replied evenly, craning his neck back to meet Jack's gaze. "Have you been hiding your secret ability to replaster ceilings?"

"Unfortunately, no." Jack sighed in defeat. "I'll have to call UNIT."

"Oh, sorry!" Gwen said loudly, clanging the door open. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Jack took a moment to picture the situation. He standing on the counter, a hand against the ceiling and leaning forward; Ianto bracing him with a hand solid on each of his thighs. Then he looked down and realised that from Gwen's perspective, Ianto would be half-hidden by Jack's open coat. "Actually, we haven't--"

A sharp pinch on Jack's leg silenced him.

"You weren't interrupting," Ianto said firmly, stepping away and letting Jack climb down without support. "Jack was checking the ceiling. It's leaking."

"Shouldn't we call a handyman?"

"Top secret headquarters," Jack explained, getting down.

"We have Retcon," Ianto offered.

"Apparently the local plumber's very good," Gwen said helpfully, and Jack suspected the teamwork was pre-planned.

"You already have his number, don't you?" Jack asked, and Ianto smiled. "Fine. Get it done."