Fic Request Meme!

[lullabelle]

Stoled from thepyromanical1! And pretty much everyone else....

I'm offering up fic (of >150 words) to the first 5 people who comment with a pairing or characters and a prompt or two, of which I'll chose one. But in return, you have to post this in your own journal. (It doesn't have to be fic offered though, it can be art or picspams or meta or vids or whatever, and you can chose the number).

My specialties are Torchwood and NuWho. I reserve the right to take for-freaking-ever to finish because I have the attention span of a red squirrel, and I might need to wait for ~*~inspiration~*~ (or vodka) to strike.

Comments

So, six years later... (be warned for non-con) 1/3

[http://users.livejournal.com/_lullabelle_/]

John Hart is, on the whole, incredibly misunderstood. For one, there seems to be the misconception that he lacks stealth. Absolutely untrue. If it were true he wouldn't be in the Torchwood hub right now, quiet as a cat, sneaking through the dim red light, and about to pull one over on Captain Jack Harkness right under his big, stupid nose.

Also, the idea that he is obsessed with Jack. Bollocks! Jack's not the primary reason he's here, now, in 2005 Cardiff. The primary reason is the absolutely astounding pile of money he stands to make should he succeed in this little heist. Screwing Jack is just a bonus -- and isn't it always?

Sneaking in is ridiculously easy. He just uses his rift manipulator to 'port right inside -- the only downside being that he's unable to use the abundant rift energy to boost his power, since such an action would no doubt trip an alarm. Oh, well. Still. Like taking candy from a baby. Or a Xaavarian matter converter from an embarrassingly inept super secret organization in the 21st century. Amateurs. A 51st century Dreaksian warlord is offering a king's ransom for one of the little buggers. They're rare, nearly impossible to find in their proper time, but John has it on good authority that there's one sitting in the bowels of the Torchwood hub, deposited by the rift, and due to explode in 2009 along with everything else in this unrepentant shithole. The thing is destined to be destroyed, so stealing it now is a victimless crime anyway.

What he isn't expecting is the maze of tunnels that make up the hub's lower levels. He knows from some unfortunate experience that the cells are to the left. So he goes right, and is greeted with a labyrinth of tunnels.

"Wonderful."

He tries door number one. Mechanical room. Door number two contains nothing but folding chairs and a few cardboard boxes. Not the archive, hopefully. From there, the hallway branches again, and John has a choice. Right or left.

But then there's a soft female voice calling, "Ianto? Ianto, is that you?" all soft and tear-choked. It's not the tech-head, because he's made sure she was out, and it's not the other one, the copper, because he's heard her nattering enough at this point to recognize her voice.

Every instinct he has screams at him to ignore her and continue his mission, but his curiosity speaks to him louder than instinct, and he has guns of both the stunning and bullet-dispensing variety at his disposal, as well as a pocketful of retcon. Just a peek.

He follows the voice to a pair of heavy iron doors and peers in the window. Inside is a woman on a table, plated in metal and lit in blue.

He recognizes the tech. What the fuck is Jack playing at?

"Ianto?" she calls again.

Behind him comes the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. "Turn around slowly."

Ah, this is a voice he recognizes. He does as he's told, slowly bringing his hands up to rest behind his head. "Hello, Eye Candy."

Ianto's eyes are steely, but confusion creeps in at the edges at the familiar form of address. "Who are you?" He looks haggard, worn, like he hasn't slept in days.

"I'm a friend of Jack's." Not a total lie, just a liberal stretching of the truth. "You have a partially converted Cyberman in your basement., but I'm guessing you knew that." He cocks his head. "And I'm guessing Jack doesn't."