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TW: Make No Melody (Ianto/Andy/Tosh)

zvi_likes_tv organized 3_ships 2008. I wrote a back-up story for Morgyn Leri, who requested a Torchwood fic with Ianto/Andy/Tosh and cuffs.

Title: Make No Melody
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Torchwood
Grouping: Ianto Jones/Andy Davidson/Toshiko Sato
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: I have a thousand tongues, and nine and ninety-nine lie.
Notes: Set in the first season



The door to Torchwood's office creaked as he pushed it open, and Andy frowned. From everything he had observed--the posh cars, the arrogance, the tech--Torchwood was supposed to be some special ops super-agency. Nobody knew much about them, aside from their clearances and their attitudes, but there was a reason Gwen had been so excited when she got the offer. As far as he had heard, anyway.

So when he decided to go down to their headquarters on his day off, just to see what's what, maybe make a good impression, he had expected glass doors with slots to swipe security clearance, Swedish furniture, and a receptionist that would threaten to kill him.

Instead, the door creaked when he pushed it open, and he stepped into a dusty tourist agency. Andy scratched his head, looking around at the posters, and he thought, What?

A man cleared his throat, and Andy managed not to startle at his sudden appearance. The man wasn't one of the bunch that usually showed up to steal crime scenes--his suit was too finely pressed, and he looked at Andy blankly, but without disdain.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yeah," Andy said. "I thought this was Torchwood. Is this Torchwood?" He put his hands in his pockets, then took them out again. "I'm a friend of Gwen's."

"Andy Davis," the man responded. "Constable Davis, if I'm remembering correctly."

Andy blinked. "How'd you know that?"

"I know everything," the man replied, and then his smile broke wide. "Gwen mentions you sometimes. And we do background checks, of course."

"Of course," Andy echoed. "Is she here?"

"She's out," the man said. "Would you like to leave a message?"

"Yeah, I suppose," Andy said. "Hey, why does this place look like a tourist agency?"

The man opened his mouth, but then there was the blare of an alarm, and the wall opened up. Andy turned, like anybody would, and that's when a giant fish leapt out and hit him.

*


Andy heard voices in his dreams. A woman, not Gwen, and the man from the tourist agency. And something else, a thrum underneath his skin, setting his teeth on edge.

He opened his eyes and found himself lying on a sofa in a science fiction film. Banks of computer monitors trisected the view, and the man from the tourist agency was heaving a fish-woman onto a gurney.

"What," Andy managed as he tried to sit up, and the handcuff on his left wrist yanked him back against the cushions. He looked down at it for a minute, then cleared his throat and tried again. "What's happening, then?" He thought he sounded calm enough, given the circumstances.

"Andy," the woman said, "are you all right?"

"I have a migraine and I'm handcuffed to a sofa," he replied. "How do you know my name?"

The woman took a step back, then sighed. "My name's Tosh. You've met Ianto," and she gestured at the man from the tourist agency.

"This is Torchwood," he said. He sat up slowly, this time, and peered around. "Is that woman a fish?"

"Not a fish," Tosh said.

"Not a woman," Ianto added.

"Oh. Right." Andy tugged at his binding. "And why am I cuffed to the sofa?"

"Sorry." Tosh blushed, then hurried forward, a set of keys in hand. "A safety precaution. We had to catch the," she glanced at the fish-woman, "suspect, and we didn't want to leave you out in the open while you were unconscious."

"Thoughtful," Andy said. Tosh's fingers traced against his wrist, and he felt a flash of something, something like memory. He looked up at her.

She smiled like she knew him, then she climbed into his lap. "You do remember," she murmured.

"I don't know," he said. "Are we--"

Then she kissed him, and he decided he would ask more questions in just a minute. Tosh tasted like coffee, burnt and too sweet. He opened his mouth and she moaned against him. The cushion dipped beside him, and he pulled back from Tosh, and he barely had time to blink before Ianto slanted their lips together.

Ianto tasted like tea and honey, and Andy thought maybe, just maybe, he remembered this, too. It was rather pleasant, and he wondered why he wasn't panicking more.

He yanked against the handcuff again, and Tosh made a sound against the side of his neck. Ianto had a firm hand holding his jaw, but Tosh fumbled with his wrist again, and there was a click and a release of pressure. He shifted on the sofa, slid both hands around Tosh's waist, sneaking under her blouse and up the smooth skin of her back.

Finally, he broke away gasping. "I don't understand," he said. "I mean, I'm not complaining, but I don't understand."

"The memory will come back," Tosh said. "Specific images can trigger a reversal. Sometimes tastes, or smells. Oh."

She wriggled against him, and he looked down, saw Ianto's other hand sneaking between them. He groaned.

"Memory?" he managed to say. "Have I forgotten something?"

"Just this," Ianto said, and then he did something else with his hand, and Andy forgot many more things for a while.

*


Andy heard voices in his dreams. He shook his head, blinked, and realized he had been daydreaming because Gwen was sitting on a stool next to him. There was a pint in front of him, half-full.

"Are you all right, Andy?" she asked. "You look a little out of it."

"Don't know." He shifted on his stool and coughed. Took a gulp from his drink, though he didn't remember ordering it. "Feel a bit off, I guess."

"Did you enjoy your day off, though?" Gwen sipped at her tonic, not looking at him. "Meet anyone special?"

Andy snorted, then clinked his glass against hers. "Fishing for compliments, are we?"

Gwen looked at him, and there was something like relief in her eyes, he thought. "Just a rough day, I guess. You?"

"Everything's kind of a blur." Andy shook his head again. "Weird, really."

Gwen laughed. "Maybe you should have done something productive. Gone jogging or something, instead of coming to a bar."

"I meant to, actually." Andy frowned. "I wanted to come visit your new office."

"Mm." Gwen shrugged. "Maybe next time, then?"

"Yeah." Andy took another drink from his pint. "Maybe next time."


###

A/N: Title and summary adapted from Stephen Crane's Yes, I Have a Thousand Tongues:
Yes, I have a thousand tongues,
And nine and ninety-nine lie.
Though I strive to use the one,
It will make no melody at my will,
But is dead in my mouth.


Originally archived here.

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