Torchwood IMs: Mike

[a_silver_story]

Title: Mike
Chapter: 15
Characters: Ianto Jones, OMC, Rhys Williams
Author: a_silver_story
Genre Humour
Rating: PG
Warnings: M.M, Homophobia
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know.
Summary: Requested by my non-LJer friend Thomas (never Tom), who experienced something similar.





15 |



01 | Ianto and Gwen's IM's
02 | Ianto and Southern Comfort
03 | Skiving with Captain Andy
04 | Ianto and Jack's IMs
05 | Tosh? Gossiping? Never!
06 | What Toshiko Saw ... (Prose)
07 | Captain Andy handles the Force
08 | Ianto and SOCO Strikes Back
09 | Into the Boardroom (Prose)
10 | Ianto's, Tosh's, Gwen and Jack's IMs
11 | Ianto and Rhys' IMs
12 | Obtained File: CPD/Torchwood Liaison Meeting #13
13 | What Toshiko Wants (Prose)
14 | The In-Laws








12:45 AM


MIKE has entered the conversation

MR JONES: Hey.
MR JONES: Who’s this?

MIKE: I’m Daf’s mate.

MR JONES: Oh okay.

MIKE: I weren’t there Satday. Wasn’t invited. Apparently you been drinkin wit the boys?

MR JONES: Is that a problem?

MIKE: Dont want em mixing with your sort.

MR JONES: My “sort”?

MIKE: Pink shirts.

MR JONES: Even if I accidentally put a red sock in the white wash?

MIKE: Smart arse. Everyone noes your a gayer.

MR JONES: Really? That’s news to me. When I last checked, I could have sworn I was bisexual – but I suppose the ignorant minority knows best.

MIKE: Your wrong.

MR JONES: No. I think I’m aware of my own sexuality.

MIKE: No. I mean your wrong. Your sick.

MR JONES: You’re bigoted, opinionated and invading the peripheral of my life. Nice to meet you, too.

MIKE: Go fuck a horse if you love dick that much.

MR JONES: Apparently there’s a place in Germany you can do that ... but you have to queue so I’ll give it a miss. Queues are for the English.

MIKE: I’m English.

MR JONES: North or South?

MIKE: South.

MR JONES: That explains away the bigotry. I forgive you.

MIKE: FUCK YOU

MR JONES: You’ll have to queue for that, too.

MIKE: Fucking puff

MR JONES: I don’t see what Puff the Magic Dragon has to do with the conversation. If you hate him enough to randomly shout out expletives, you should probably start a Facebook group.

MIKE: Is your boyfriend as gay as you? Is he gayer?

MR JONES: To be “gay” is a finite state, not a quantative. You can’t be any more of a finite state. That’s the general idea of something being finite.
MR JONES: ... and may I add: Duh.

MIKE: Finite? That some kind of gay word?

MR JONES: Check your dictionary.

MIKE: I’d look up “wrong” in my dictionary, but there’ll be a picture of you and your boyfriend fucking next to it.

MR JONES: I wouldn’t know. My dictionary doesn’t need pictures.

MIKE: You callin me thick?

MR JONES: Congratu-welldone.

MIKE: Thats not even a word.

MR JONES: No. It’s a contraction of three words ... you know what. Never mind. You see the expression “Congratu-welldone” and you just know it’s dripping with sarcasm and disapproval.

MIKE: Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.

MR JONES: So you’ll definitely understand it then?

MIKE: Fuck you.

MR JONES: I told you. Queue.

MIKE: My mam said sarcasm gets you nowhere.

MR JONES: It’s got me all kinds of wonderful places.

MIKE: Wanker.

MR JONES: Yeah ... I can hardly argue that.

MIKE: I bet your mam hates you.

MR JONES: Fuck off.

MIKE: Aww have I hit a nerve, Powerpuff Girl? Which one are you? Bubbles? Buttercup?

MR JONES: Go on. *points*. Off you fuck.
MR JONES: ... and if you’re so much of a man, why do you know the Powerpuff Girls’ names?

MIKE: Go screw yourself.

MR JONES: We’ll be here all day if I have to explain the laws of physics and biology that render that command void.

MIKE: You think you’re so clever.

MR JONES: I do, as a matter of fact.

MIKE: Go and fuckin die

MR JONES: It is inevitable that I will die. Telling me to do so won’t make that point any more or less true.

MIKE: I hope your daddys proud of his gayer little son with his sick twisted mind

MR JONES: My dad’s dead.

MIKE: Did he die of shame?

MR JONES: No. He saw the state of your life and died of embarrassment on your behalf.

MIKE: Your mum keeps calling me asking for sex.

MR JONES: Tut. I told her that those kinds of phone lines were expensive ... especially if you call them from Australia.

MIKE: Australia? You mum left because she hates you.

MR JONES: My mam left when the embarrassment of your life killed my daddy.

MIKE: What does it feel like? To know you’ve single-handedly ended your own family tree because of your sick fetish?

MR JONES: Not single-handedly. I think we managed a fist and three fingers once ...


MIKE has left the conversation



2:15 AM

RHYS has entered the conversation

RHYS: Heyyy Ianto! Did ya have fun on Saturday?? Glad you could make it!

MR JONES: Yeah. I really enjoyed myself, but I don’t think I want to go again.

RHYS: Why? The lads thought you were great. They told you so!

MR JONES: Do you know a Mike? Southern English?

RHYS: I know who you mean. Don’t like him much. A bit up himself.

MR JONES: He’s a homophobe, too.

RHYS: Oh. You’ve met him?

MR JONES: He chatted to me on IM. Said he was Daf’s mate.

RHYS: Oh. What did he say? Was he starting on you?

MR JONES: Words were said (some of mine had to be clarified), wit was exchanged and mothers were insulted.

RHYS: I’m sorry Ianto.

MR JONES: It’s okay. I just think it’d be better if I didn’t hang around with you lot anymore. Though it really was fun.

RHYS: ‘Scuse me? I’ve seen you have a gun aimed at the back of your head without so much as batting an eyelid ... but one bastard Englishman who couldn’t confront you to your face and you shy away?

MR JONES: I don’t want him talking and affecting his opinion of you or the others.

RHYS: Then we’ll find somewhere else to drink. The guys will understand. We need a change anyway.

MR JONES: It’s alright, really

RHYS: No it’s not. You’re a mate now, yeah?

MR JONES: Yeah?

RHYS: Yeah.

MR JONES: Are we mates enough to hug yet?

RHYS: A virtual hug maybe – but if you come at me with bear hug in the physical world I’ll nut ya :-P

MR JONES: Ha ha! I’ll bear that in mind *virtual hug. A definitely not gay virtual hug*

RHYS: *big bear hug back*

MR JONES: Oh Rhys, your virtual arms are so strong ....

RHYS: lmao. These virtual arms a Gwen’s, little damsel in distress :-P

MR JONES: hahaha. So Wednesday then?

RHYS: Yep. We’ll have a pub crawl with the lads. Find somewhere new we like.

MR JONES: You sure?

RHYS: YES and if you ask me one more time I’ll set Gwen on you.

MR JONES: Help me Jebus ....
MR JONES: Anyways, the Big I Am demands my attention.

RHYS: TMI.

MR JONES: “TMI”?

RHYS: Too Much Information.

MR JONES: u iz lyk so wiv it lolzers.

RHYS: ha!
RHYS: Piss off :-P

MR JONES: Haha. Night night.
MR JONES: Oh, and Rhys?

RHYS: Yeah, mate?

MR JONES: Thanks.

RHYS: Like I said. Mates.

MR JONES: *nods* mates.
MR JONES: *jumps out of nowhere* BEAR HUG!!

RHYS: haha. Night, Ianto.

MR JONES: Night.


MR JONES has left the conversation




FIN





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