[Thank you for the V-gift! =D I think this fill was accidentally also inspired by a couple of others commenters who requested BAMF!Ianto. So, um. Even though we don’t see Ianto actually fixing things, I hope this works for you!]
an instinct deeply ingrained
Say what you will about old-fashioned projectile weapons. The sound of a round being chambered is as terrifying as any sonic weapon charge-up.
John turns slowly, hands up in front of him, high enough to make him look harmless, low enough so that he can grab for his own gun (sonic, thank you) if the opportunity presents itself.
“What is it this time?” he asks casually. “The good Captain forget something else?”
“Kneel,” Eye Candy says.
“Kinky,” John says.
Eye Candy lashes out with his foot, a sharp kick to the back of John’s knees knocking him to the ground. John tries, but doesn’t manage to get to his gun before Eye Candy’s there, wrenching his arms behind his back and cuffing him. Okay, not a problem, they’re just your average handcuffs, he can get out of those easy. Just take him a few seconds, once Eye Candy looks away –
He’s not looking away. He looks angry, the kind of angry that goes cold and refines every act it drives. John frowns slightly. This could be a problem.
“Look, they’re not as valuable as you probably think they are,” he tries. “I just didn’t figure you’d need them, and I happen to need some for the next place I’m going. Things to buy, you know. The chips wouldn’t be useful to you.”
“I honestly don’t care about your thieving tendencies,” Eye Candy says, flatly. He produces a – oh god, is that a syringe, the medicine of this time is so barbaric – out of his suit pocket and moves around to John’s side. He still has a clear line of fire, he’s moved himself out of easy striking distance, and if John struggles, all he’ll accomplish is breaking the needle off in his flesh.
John grits his teeth against the sharp pain, wondering what Eye Candy’s up to. If the lot of them weren’t so bloody nice, he’d be honestly worried.
“It’s the collateral damage I don’t appreciate,” Eye Candy says, stepping out in front of him again. He holsters his gun and watches John casually. “Do you happen to recall that box of photos on Jack’s desk? The one you accidentally destroyed?”
John feels very cold. It takes him a moment to realise the sensation’s centred on the injection site, but radiating rapidly throughout the rest of his body. It comes and goes in waves. He doesn’t know what Eye Candy might have used, but it’s making it hard to think and he’s getting dizzy.
Eye Candy watches him with a little smile on his face. Suddenly, John’s not too sure about the whole “being nice” thing. That smile does not look nice. That smile looks like something he’d once seen on people who still gave him nightmares, decades later.
no subject
I think this fill was accidentally also inspired by a couple of others commenters who requested BAMF!Ianto. So, um. Even though we don’t see Ianto actually fixing things, I hope this works for you!]
an instinct deeply ingrained
Say what you will about old-fashioned projectile weapons. The sound of a round being chambered is as terrifying as any sonic weapon charge-up.
John turns slowly, hands up in front of him, high enough to make him look harmless, low enough so that he can grab for his own gun (sonic, thank you) if the opportunity presents itself.
“What is it this time?” he asks casually. “The good Captain forget something else?”
“Kneel,” Eye Candy says.
“Kinky,” John says.
Eye Candy lashes out with his foot, a sharp kick to the back of John’s knees knocking him to the ground. John tries, but doesn’t manage to get to his gun before Eye Candy’s there, wrenching his arms behind his back and cuffing him. Okay, not a problem, they’re just your average handcuffs, he can get out of those easy. Just take him a few seconds, once Eye Candy looks away –
He’s not looking away. He looks angry, the kind of angry that goes cold and refines every act it drives. John frowns slightly. This could be a problem.
“Look, they’re not as valuable as you probably think they are,” he tries. “I just didn’t figure you’d need them, and I happen to need some for the next place I’m going. Things to buy, you know. The chips wouldn’t be useful to you.”
“I honestly don’t care about your thieving tendencies,” Eye Candy says, flatly. He produces a – oh god, is that a syringe, the medicine of this time is so barbaric – out of his suit pocket and moves around to John’s side. He still has a clear line of fire, he’s moved himself out of easy striking distance, and if John struggles, all he’ll accomplish is breaking the needle off in his flesh.
John grits his teeth against the sharp pain, wondering what Eye Candy’s up to. If the lot of them weren’t so bloody nice, he’d be honestly worried.
“It’s the collateral damage I don’t appreciate,” Eye Candy says, stepping out in front of him again. He holsters his gun and watches John casually. “Do you happen to recall that box of photos on Jack’s desk? The one you accidentally destroyed?”
John feels very cold. It takes him a moment to realise the sensation’s centred on the injection site, but radiating rapidly throughout the rest of his body. It comes and goes in waves. He doesn’t know what Eye Candy might have used, but it’s making it hard to think and he’s getting dizzy.
Eye Candy watches him with a little smile on his face. Suddenly, John’s not too sure about the whole “being nice” thing. That smile does not look nice. That smile looks like something he’d once seen on people who still gave him nightmares, decades later.
“Let’s have a little talk, John.”