nysalogs | [ FINISHED/CLOSED ]

John can tell Ianto is uncomfortable, and he can tell he's the reason.

He tries to ease off as much as he can, let Ianto re-apply the bulk of his sunscreen and just touch up the bits he can't see or reach, but despite how casual he tries to keep it all the discomfort is there.

The one thing he can do, at least, is help make sure they're comfortable when they sleeep. He sets up a makeshift shelter, a mixture of thin branches he's hauled together from fallen limbs and ones he could snap free with his knife. There's enough to at least give them cover, and then enough wide-leaf foliage to keep off any rain.

No doubt Ianto would have preferred two shelters, but there's enough space for them to not be pressed together and John doesn't really mind staying awake first to keep watch while the other man curls up in some bedding and sleeps off the mild heat exhaustion he's no doubt starting to nurse. For now, John has left him with the combination of food and drink they have to sort out something. There's nothing really to cook, but there's some dried meat and dried fruit along with a little bread -- something plain and similar to crackers.

"You ever go camping as a kid?" he prompts, focus half on weaving a last few leaves between the branches of the shelter. Ianto had said he was more a city person before, but sometimes family trips are compulsory fun events. He might have gone before, or been sent on a kids adventure holiday thing.

Ianto picks at the food, not certain he's really that hungry but figuring it's probably the heat and his dehydration making that decision rather than his stomach itself. He takes a few more sips of water, before breaking off another piece of his bread to nibble on.

He glances up in the direction of John's voice at the question. It's a nice little construction that he's building, honestly. He hadn't honestly known what to expect when he'd started, but the bedding is comfortable and Ianto's added his cloak to the mix for added padding, and in truth it's not bad at all. Still camping, but it's not bad.

"A bit," he answers, honestly. "Growing up. When we went to visit my Nan, sometimes." He'd never really gotten the hang of it, though. Much to his father's chagrin.

"Oh yeah? Like you were camping on your way to visit her, or did your Nan camp too?"

Somehow John doesn't... easily envisage someone's grandmother camping, but maybe Welsh grandmothers are made of tougher stuff. He vaguely makes sure the leaf is as secure as it's going to be before finally giving up the shelter for as good as it's going to get, moves back around to the front of it and drops to sit near Ianto so he can rummage for something to eat himself. John's tired, his feet ache and his hands ache a little from hauling and winding everything together, but it's far from the worst he's ever felt. They made good progress, so it's all worth the effort.

Edited (English why) 2018-06-09 02:20 (UTC)

He glances up as the other man drops in to join him. Not really certain why John would want to know about any of this, other than to get him talking, but he'll answer anyway. John's done a lot for him today and he owes him as much.

"She did, actually," he replies, taking another bite of the bread before flicking a smile at the other man. "We would go up to visit her every weekend. All week, I would look forward to it. Maybe not always the camping, exactly, but. I don't know. The scenery, the countryside, the escape of it all, and her." He shrugs, keeping his eyes on the bread he's picking apart in his hands as he continues, "She was the one who made the whole thing worth it, really."

Which, in retrospect, sounds like a rather heavy thing to say, but he supposes it's true. He can leave it up to John to construe such a statement how he wants. But between his mum and his dad, and Rhiannon, who was a girl and older than him besides and always on about boys or whinging about friends or school or god even knows, everything else it felt like, his Nan was really the only one who ever paid him much attention. His mother tried, no doubt because Nan was her mum and she had to tell her some things he said. But it was never the same.

"Sounds nice."

He settles himself properly and grabs himself some bread, mulling it over.

"My Dad wasn't much for family vacations like that. He was more an all work no play sort, you know. His idea of teenage rebellion was going to Stanford instead of Harvard."

Which is... clearly not quite in line with John himself, who seems to struggle following basic orders and struggles under any kind of limits. Still, at the same time he did join the Air Force so... either that was rebellion or an accepted family occupation? John doesn't seem to be expanding much on his own, just pulling apart some bread and chewing.

It was nice, Ianto reflects. Until it wasn't, and his Nan died, and he had lost that escape and his parents had tried, he knows that now, but. He'd just never really gotten on with his father. He'd always wanted him to be something that Ianto never felt he could.

He casts a glance aside at John, raising an eyebrow at that. Both are Ivy League schools, that much he knows. He also knows John enough to understand he doesn't seem like the Harvard sort. "I take it that you didn't have much of an opinion about either," he hazards aloud, knowing everything he does about the other man. At least, he doesn't think it usually follows that one joins the Air Force after starting on a path like that, anyway.

John shrugs at that, not particularly agreeing or disagreeing.

"I didn't really fit the mould. I tried, but he..."

It had just been difficult. His face scrunches up as John turns over the memory, trying to think of ways to describe that don't seem... wrong.

"He had everything planned out for me, and I didn't want that. I didn't want boardrooms and stocks and shares and meetings all the time. It wasn't me. I guess he couldn't accept that."

He shrugs and unscrews a bottle of water, takes a long sip. It's not something he can change now, it is what it is.

Ianto breaks off another bite of his bread, nibbling at it for a few moments as he casts a glance aside at the other man, cocking his head to the side before he shakes it in turn. "Nope. I can't see it. You, in a desk job. You, in a suit?" He raises his eyebrows at that, holding the expression for another moment before reaching for a piece of the dried fruit.

"So you chose to join the Air Force instead," he says, putting the pieces of John's life together. "How did that go over?" He glances back up at the other man, studying his expression again as he does. Wondering whether he's pushing too much, to ask such a question. But he supposes John will always evade his question if he has. He's certainly done so before.

"About as well as you'd guess -- and I can wear a suit, Jones."

He drawls Ianto's surname deliberately, narrows his eyes at him before taking another sip of water and screwing the bottle closed.

"I've worn suits before. Just because you like them more doesn't mean I never wear them."

Admittedly, mostly for funerals and ceremonies but still. He's worn them. It's the principle of the thing, after all. He can be formal if he needs to be formal, he just prefers not to be if he can help it. He's had enough stiff formality in his life already.

Edited 2018-06-09 23:12 (UTC)

"Yes, alright, alright," he says, flicking a smile at the other man's protest. "Point taken. I would just assume that it isn't your choice, yeah? You know, if you were given the option of a tshirt or a button-down with a tie, I'm willing to bet I'd know which you would go for."

Ianto wonders what it says about himself that he doesn't know what he'd choose, off the top of his head. That it depends on what was appropriate for the situation. He picks at a few of the pieces of food and puts them together in a makeshift finger sandwich before popping it into his mouth to stop himself from going on about this.

"I wasn't exactly what my father expected of me, either," he offers, after a moment.

"Yeah, well, we both get membership to the VIP parental issues club I guess."

Distantly, he wonders what it was Ianto's father didn't like. Whatever drove him to learn lock picking, maybe? Or maybe he just didn't like soccer enough. Not interested in the tailoring business? Maybe something else? It's hard to judge without knowing what kind of people his family were, what they liked, what they didn't. If it was personal, or if it was just that they didn't like anything. Some families were like that, kids doomed never to meet impossible standards.

"Hurray, us," Ianto says, more than a bit sarcastically in return. "Makes it sound like there's a prize or something. Beyond living in the shadow of eternal disappointment." He finishes fussing with his food for a moment to take another sip of water. There's a part of him that will always feel guilty for how things turned out with his father. But neither of them had ever really known how to deal with one another, and Ianto had still been so young then. Well, he had felt it, anyway.

"Do you have any siblings?" he asks, after a second, glancing up at John curiously. He doesn't know whether it's worse to be the single child and have to live up to the mold that they want to fit you in when it's just not working, or to be the odd man out of a family that all seems to be able to get it but you. Rhiannon never really seemed to want for anything more, after all. Just look at Johnny, he thinks to himself, which is a little bit unfair because he is a good man, if a bit. Simple.

"Yeah, a brother."

Not that he really... stays in touch with Dave much. It had been better after the funeral, he'd tried, but there's still too much he can't properly talk about. Too much space and time between them. Too much resentment and misunderstand ingrained over the years

"What about you?"

Does Ianto have anyone? He comes across isolated and twitchy, but John supposes he does too. Having a sibling doesn't mean you had a good sibling relationship going on, or strong family links. John had actively done his best not to have them.

"A sister," he replies, because there's no point in asking questions he's not willing to answer in return. "Rhiannon. She's... Four years older than me. Married, two kids. David and Mica." He shrugs slightly. "I see them on holidays sometimes, but you know. Torchwood didn't really give us days off." He wasn't sure he would have wanted to take them if they did.

He doesn't need to say that they're all he has left, now. But they are. And he's a pretty shitty family member himself, when it comes down to it. It's not like he's off on some mission in the stars, he's just in Cardiff. But it's his job, yes, and everything he's seen, and everything he can't talk about. He's always found it easier to just stay away.

"Yeah," John allows, because he knows how that feels. He didn't exactly get much in the way of days off either. He pulls the gently glowing alien tablet from one of his pockets, checks it again to make sure no shamans are sneaking up on them. It resolutely shows him two dots, surrounded by darkness.

There aren't going to be any days off here, either. No holidays to see your family. Is Dave in the pods? John realises with a jolt he never asked for him to be saved, so he doesn't know if he is. Or how he feels about that. Did Ianto ask for Rhiannon and her children to be saved?

"I can take the first watch," he says finally, "if you want to get some sleep."

Ianto can tell when John has deemed a conversation to be over, and that is decidedly a sign. He hums softly, deciding that it'd be better to save the rest of the food he's been picking at for if and when they might actually need it, and setting it aside.

"Yeah, alright. But wake me up, yeah?" He glances up at the other man, frowning at him slightly as he does, trying to get a good idea of how he's doing and coming up short. "You're going to need to get some sleep too. I can take second shift." He pats the pocket of his bag. "Should anything go awry, you may rest well and remember I'm armed and dangerous."

"Sure," John says, in an airy sort of way that commits to nothing. He needs to teach Ianto some unarmed self-defence, really. He needs to get both of them proper guns.

The night passes quietly, and once Ianto has been asleep seven or so hours John finally nudges him awake so he can sleep a couple. It's not exactly an even split, but Ianto needs the sleep more than he does. He passes Ianto his scanner, tells him to try and keep it shielded so the glow doesn't draw any attention and to wake him if anything shows up on it.

Not that John is a heavy sleeper. He wraps himself up and drifts for a few hours, blinking awake at one point as a light shower of rain hits the leaves woven into the shelter, then again properly as the light begins to fade up. Not that the lack of sleep seems to have done him much harm, he's up quickly and stretching himself out -- checking through his pack and squinting at the sky to judge the weather. It's better if they get going before the midday sun really heats up everything, since they'll probably have to stop at that point so Ianto doesn't collapse.

It's not an even split, which Ianto does grumble about, but there's not much he can do about it after the fact. He huddles with his cloak tucked about his shoulders for the hours that John dozes, oscillating between staring at the pair of dots on the screen before him, staring out into the darkness ahead, and glancing back at John where he's curled himself up nearby.

He helps John deconstruct their little shelter with the uncomfortable knowledge that they're going to have to prepare for another day of walking in the sun. His feet and legs already protesting from the journey thus far as it is. Again, stripping to the waist he resigns himself to the help of being lathered in sunscreen for the start of the day.

And thus starts their journey once more. Ianto can't say that he's a terrible traveling companion. But he's hardly the best either, and he knows it. He really isn't good with this sort of weather, it's a lot of walking, he's the one who slept the most but he can feel himself dragging them down as John keeps politely accommodating for him. Stopping to make sure that he's drinking enough water, maybe have a piece of dried fruit, keeping up with the sunscreen when all Ianto wants to do is get out of this place as fast as they can.

It's about at the point when they see the forest approaching in the distance that Ianto realizes what this means. They've talked about it a little more on the walk -- they've had a lot of time to talk after all. But it isn't until he's standing nearly face to face with the forest itself, his head fuzzy already from the heat, his body aching all over from a day and a half's walk to get there, that he realizes this could go one of two ways. Maybe it really is just like a little bit of weed. Maybe there really is nothing to worry about. Or maybe he's about to walk into a nightmare forest hopped up on hallucinogenics. There's really only one way to find out...

He forces himself to take a breath as they get closer, letting it out slowly in the attempt to relax. He's feeling wound up, from the journey, from the uncertainty of what's ahead, from his own incompetence in this situation, and from his continued close proximity to the other man and John's own handling of the situation in turn. "Surrounded by swampland with an ominous jungle looming before us. Clearly the logical next step on this threshold is to stop and roll a spliff. Really helps a man appreciate the beauty of nature as he stumbles off the path to his doom." Okay, maybe his attempts to relax aren't going so well after all.

"Might do your nerves some good."

John slows his pace, shrugs his bag off his shoulder as they walk and begins to dig.

"So, Mr Jones, can I interest you in getting high with me and developing a deeper understanding of nature?"

Or, at the very least, walking through the mysterious fungi forest until they find Khalo village. He pulls out some supplies since, yes, this really is the next logical step Ianto and unfortunately he did pick up some fyrra for this purpose so there's no backing out. John drops his bag and pushes his sunglasses into his hair, alternating between shoving things vaguely under his tactical vest to free up a hand shooting the forest ahead a suspicious frown. There's a slight shimmery haze he can see around it, and it makes him just a little uneasy.

Ianto can hardly argue with that. He squints suspiciously at the forest in front of them, overall not feeling too keen on crossing that shimmering threshold himself, before glancing back at John. Watching him as he works on rolling out the fyrra and wondering if maybe he shouldn't offer to help. If that wouldn't shatter another conception of himself that the other man might have.

"I thought you'd never ask," Ianto quips in return, unable to help a witty reply even now. He hooks his fingers in the straps of his bag, rocking on his feet anxiously. Wondering if John had somehow procured them some matches as well or how he was expecting to be able to light this up. "We should only need the one. Unless you've got anything against sharing." He raises an eyebrow.

"Not especially, they didn't really say how much we needed to smoke."

Smoking to specifically dodge a sleep inducing haze isn't something John has a lot of experience with. He makes a vague attempt to pack the fyrra as evenly as he can, frowning in concentration.

"I would recommend we wait outside for a few minutes just to make sure this isn't secretly going to make either of us vomit or develop weird rashes.

You know, before they wander aimlessly into a mystery hazy forest right after smoking it and possibly become lost.

He glances aside at the other man in vague alarm at the suggestion of a bad reaction to the herb. Have there been reports of those sorts of things? Never mind, he isn't certain that he wants to know. Especially not just before he's gathered up the courage to experiment with alien substances.

"I expect we will find out one way or another," he replies. The sooner they get this over with the sooner they can get on their way. Speaking of which. Not that he doesn't appreciate the care in which John is taking with his work but he's taking way too much time doing something Ianto himself could have had done by now (though maybe that's just his nerves talking). He fidgets at the other man's side for a moment before holding his hand out toward the other man, unable to just stand by and watch any longer.

"Look, just. Give it here." Delicately plucking the work out of the other man's fingers before he has a chance to say otherwise, he makes sure there's enough of the herb in the paper before rolling it between his fingers. It's the nervous energy, he'll vibrate out of his skin before too much longer. At least he can do this -- even if it is only rolling a joint, he thinks a little bitterly to himself, as he hands it back to the other man. "Have you got a light or are we going to be sat here while you rub two sticks together for fire as well?"

His eyebrows shoot up as Ianto grabs it from him, then John pulls out a book of matches (branded from Shades Darker, these are work matches) and holds them out.

"Here you go," he says lightly, because clearly Ianto is in a hurry and John doesn't feel like picking apart why. "Knock yourself out."

John busies himself scanning the area for any signs of life while Ianto rolls for them, hauling his bag back onto his back and trying to think ahead. If it does give them some weird reaction, might there be another way? Should he be prepared to just wrap Ianto in a blanket and calm him down if he begins to go off the rails? For that matter, should he wait a little to see how he behaves before smoking any himself?

Ianto doesn't mean to just be grabbing things out of John's hands. It's just a culmination of things, he's crawling out of his skin, anxious, uncomfortable, and way too in his own head, and honestly if there is a chance that this will help him calm down then he's all for it.

He does at least mutter a word of thanks as he takes the book of matches from the other man, lighting one to light the little roller up. "Here goes nothing then," Ianto says, glancing to the other man a little anxiously, because he's well aware that this is uncharted waters and probably a terrible idea, before he puts it to his lips and inhales, letting the breath out in a slow cloud of smoke.

It tastes... Pretty much how one might expect, having seen what it was before it was rolled up. Ianto brings the little roller to his lips again, inhaling again because it's pretty much go big or go home at this point, and tries to get a handle on how he's feeling. If it's making him feel anything. He thinks there might be something there. Maybe he should just keep smoking it to find out.

Is... Ianto just going to smoke the whole thing? He's definitely going for it. John watches him with a bemused look, feeling as if he's waiting for something to happen.

"Feel like sharing your experience with the class?" he prompts. He's not instantly choking and falling over, which is a good sign. He's also more comfortable with this than John would have expected, but maybe this all comes under lock-picking territory.

Can he blow smoke rings, John wonders idly. Maybe he can teach him how if not.

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