Chapter Text
The arms of the angel
by Lilithangel
Owen didn’t care how he looked or the expressions on people’s faces. He knew he looked like shit and he didn’t care. Ever since Katie’s death… murder… loss… whatever it was that left him doubting his own sanity and the nagging sense of something missing. Ever since they’d doped him up to control his rage he’d stopped caring. He didn’t want to feel and he certainly didn’t want to care.
Katie was gone and his career was over all he had were the moments of blessed nothing that angel gave him. He had enough money to survive so long as he was careful. He’d sold their house and moved into a tatty old tenement building because it was closer to his dealer and nobody there gave a damn what he did. Unlike the fake expressions of sympathy he’d had to deal with their old neighbours and workmates.
He’d gotten into a few fights to begin with, the hoodlums mistaking his small frame for weakness. It hadn’t taken long for even the hardest gang members to give him a safe berth which was a shame, he’d really enjoyed kicking the shit out of them it had briefly been better than angel.
He paid very little attention to the other residence vaguely noting a young man he assumed was a hooker who sometimes frequented the same dealer but otherwise kept a low profile and was probably paying off the local gang to be left alone. He paid the man no more attention than the other hookers preferring the attention of his own hand if required, the memory of Katie’s body enough to quell any desire for sexual company.
Owen bought enough food to stay alive so long as it didn’t take any time to prepare and alcohol to fill the emptiness when the angel wore off. So his trips to the supermarket were sporadic and normally undertaken late at night when there were fewer people around to annoy him.
He tried to ignore the young prostitute walking up the stairs ahead of him after his latest run to the supermarket and off license.
“I’m Ianto,” the man said stopping in front of him, “you live a few doors down from me.”
“So?” Owen said annoyed at the intrusion. He could feel the edges of need tugging at him and he wanted to get drunk before it got worse. He wasn’t going to the dealer until the end of the week, his one control over angel was to only buy once a week and make it last, only using it when the memories got too intense.
“I’ve seen you around,” Ianto said hugging his arms around his chest against the cold, “down at Marty’s.”
“I haven’t got any on me and don’t think about trying to take it if I did,” Owen said his eyes narrowing, “I’d fucking tear you apart.”
“No,” Ianto shook his head, “I just thought I could pay you, you know, in kind…”
Owen looked at Ianto with surprise and some contempt. Even the junkie hookers steered clear of him after he beat the crap out of the last gang member who thought he was an easy mark, that and the fact he looked like a junkie himself. Ianto was attractive enough, too scrawny for his frame and with the typical junkie tremors and bad skin. Owen preferred boobs but had never been adverse to a bit of cock, but he wasn’t that stupid.
“Fuck off,” Owen said, “I’m not interested, especially not in a junkie.”
Ianto nodded jerkily and seemed to shrink into himself before he rallied. “You’d know all about being a junkie,” he said, “so don’t take the high road you’re no better than me.”
“At least I’m not whoring myself out to get my next fix,” Owen retaliated.
“Lucky you,” Ianto said. He turned and continued up the stairs.
Owen watched him leave and then continued up the stairs himself.
It was two more weeks before he saw Ianto again. He’d just visited Marty’s and was hurrying home to get into the arms of the angel when he nearly stumbled over a huddled form in the stairway. He was tempted to keep on walking but the residuals of the doctor in him rose up and made him stop.
Ianto didn’t appear to be hurt although Owen couldn’t be sure without a full physical, but he was unconscious and severely undernourished. The dirty tee shirt he was wearing concealed the worst of it but as soon as Owen felt the prominent ribs and hipbones when he checked for injury he guessed the other man had collapsed from hunger.
The tug of angel was strong but suddenly Owen saw Katie in his mind’s eye and it was the Katie he’d first fell in love with before the ‘thing’ had taken her away from him, and he knew she would have been the first to try and help. With a sigh Owen shook Ianto by the shoulder hoping to rouse him. Ianto moaned and looked up at Owen blearily.
“Get up,” Owen said roughly, “you can’t lie here all night.”
Ianto coughed and let Owen manhandle him to his feet. He swayed and didn’t resist when Owen hooked an arm around his waist and led him to the stairs. It took a while to negotiate the stairs and Owen was cursing his slip into compassion and his lack of condition by the end.
Owen dropped Ianto onto the pullout sofa that was his only furniture. He really wanted a fix but wouldn’t while the other man was there. Owen was in no way trusting enough for that so he turned his attention to making something to eat while drinking to take the edge off.
Ianto stirred as the smell of pot noodles filled the small room, propping himself up on his elbow to stare around blankly.
“Here,” Owen said thrusting a mug under his nose, “drink it slowly or you’ll make yourself sick.”
Ianto frowned but the smell of the noodles made his stomach growl so he took the mug with a blush and blew across the surface before sipping carefully.
“You passed out from hunger,” Owen continued, taking a mouthful of bourbon, “your blood sugar levels must be near zero you idiot.”
“What are you a doctor or something?” Ianto retaliated sarcastically.
“I am actually,” Owen replied.
“You’ve got a lousy bedside manner,” Ianto said swallowing the noodles.
“Yeah well it’s been a while,” Owen said. “How long since you had a hit?” he asked bluntly.
“Too long,” Ianto said. He looked at Owen with a calculating look. “My offer still stands you know, I’m very good at what I do as well and you don’t look like you’ve had any action in a long time.”
“I’m not interested,” Owen said, “especially not in a junkie. I’ve got my own problems and I’m sure as hell not going to share, not even for the best damn fuck in the world,” he finished with a growl.
“Fine,” Ianto said with a nod. He finished the mug of noodles and tried to stand only to fall back again.
“One mug of noodles isn’t going to fix you,” Owen said, “You need hydration and some decent sleep.”
“Well I’m not going to get either here am I?”
“Will you go home and get them or will you just go right back out onto the street to earn enough for another fix?”
Ianto flushed at Owen’s accurate assessment and tried to stand again. Owen closed his eyes briefly and then held out the bottle of bourbon. Ianto looked at him suspiciously and then grabbed it. They both knew it wasn’t enough but it would help for a while.
Slowly the alcohol worked its way through Ianto’s body and he began to relax. Owen had taken up residence on the other end of the sofa and they were passing the bottle between them. Owen could feel the small bag of angel burning a hole in his pocket but he had been telling the truth about not sharing. Whatever spark of the Hippocratic oath had spurred him to help Ianto in the stairwell was not strong enough to share the only thing that swept away the memories.
Ianto’s eyes kept closing. Owen knew the other man should eat more and not drink but the only thing he could do was allow Ianto to rest for a while before kicking him out. Ianto was at least easy company; they didn’t talk, just passed the bottle back and forth, each locked in their own misery.
Owen rescued the bottle from Ianto’s slack fingers and got up to fix himself some noodles knowing that when he embraced the angel he wouldn’t think about food for a while. The high was lasting less time with each hit and he knew his addiction was growing but so long as he had some control over it he could pretend it didn’t matter.
As he leaned against the bench waiting for his kettle to boil the water he noticed Ianto was moving restlessly as if in the throws of a nightmare. Ianto choked out someone’s name, a woman and then a moan that cut too close to comfort for Owen who knew similar sounds came out of his own throat on his bad days.
Ianto bolted upright with an anguished cry, “I’m sorry!” staring at something Owen couldn’t see before slumping back down and looking around in horror. He struggled to his feet and stumbled to the door and this time Owen let him go.
The next time he saw Ianto was almost a copy of the last but this time the younger man was clutching a duffel bag and was conscious.
“Couldn’t pay the rent,” Ianto said to Owen’s unspoken question.
“That all you have?” Owen gestured to the duffel.
“All that mattered,” Ianto said.
Owen nodded and then cursed the spectre of his fiancé who stood in the stairwell looking at him sorrowfully.
“You got somewhere to go?” he asked grudgingly.
Ianto shook his head. “Was going to try the night shelter in Greenwich.”
“How were you planning to get there?”
“Walk,” Ianto replied.
“I doubt you’d make it,” Owen said, “You can sleep on the couch for tonight, no strings and sort something out in the morning.”
Ianto nodded and followed Owen shakily up the stairs.
Without asking Owen put the kettle on and got out two pot noodles. They were his last he noticed with a frown. He would have gone to the 24 hour place later but didn’t trust Ianto alone in his place so he’d worry about it in the morning.
Ianto had put his duffel down by the door and was standing awkwardly next to the sofa.
“Sit down before you fall down,” Owen said irritably.
“Are you really a doctor?” Ianto asked as he sat down.
“I was,” Owen said shortly, “now I’m a junkie.”
“I was a junior Researcher,” Ianto said.
“And now you’re a junkie,” Owen snorted. “We’re not bonding alright, this is not some fucking made for TV movie where we find shit in common and skip off into the sunset to heal our deep emotional scars.”
“I was just making conversation,” Ianto said, “You know, that thing human beings do in company.”
“Well don’t,” Owen said pouring the water into the noodles. He grabbed a couple of forks and passed one to Ianto.
Ianto ate the noodles with the slow steady pace of someone who was used to hunger and wanted to make them last. Owen ate to stay alive so wolfed his down as soon as they were cool enough.
“Where should I sleep?” Ianto asked when he finally finished.
“The sofa’s the only bed,” Owen said, “so you’d better not snore and if you try and rip me off in my sleep I will break every important bone in your body.”
“You’re really distrusting aren’t you?” Ianto commented.
“How have you survived so long?” Owen snorted, “You can’t trust anyone or anything.”
It was late and Owen had hocked the television before he could break it so he sent Ianto into the small bathroom to clean up a bit and pulled out the bed. Ianto grabbed his duffel and took it into the bathroom with him demonstrating to Owen that he wasn’t a complete idiot.
Owen snorted with surprise when he returned to the living area himself to find Ianto washing out their mugs and putting them on the sideboard to drain.
They both stripped down to tee shirts and underwear and climbed into the creaking sofa bed.
“Just so you know I don’t have any drugs in the place but if you need to there’s booze in the kitchen cupboard,” Owen said. He had brought a bottle of rotgut whiskey to bed and he took a big swallow before passing it over to Ianto.
“Thank you,” Ianto said accepting the bottle, “for everything really.”
“Well don’t,” Owen said, “and don’t get used to it.”
Ianto looked at his curiously but simply took a drink and passed the bottle back.
“Last time you had a nightmare,” Owen said after another drink, “they happened often?”
“Often enough,” Ianto said, “enough alcohol or drugs and I can sleep. I’ll try not to wake you.”
Owen nodded and handed back the bottle. “Finish it then,” he said. “I’d like to sleep tonight.”
Ianto took two large swallows and grimaced at the burn. Owen shook his head when Ianto made to pass the bottle back so Ianto downed the last swallow. His eyes unfocused and he slumped down in the bed.
Owen rescued the bottle and watched as Ianto slipped into sleep. He’d lied about not having drugs in the house and he was desperate to take some but he had to wait for Ianto to go down.
Going to the bathroom Owen carefully measured out the minimum he knew his body needed and prepared the needle. He couldn’t trust Ianto but he needed the release to be able to sleep.
When the angel had done its job Owen returned to the sofa bed and slid under the sheet. Ianto was moving restlessly but didn’t appear to be suffering from a nightmare and Owen couldn’t quite remember why he cared so much about having a stranger around. It was always like that with angel and was why he loved and hated it in equal parts. It allowed him to forget but made him too damn nice for his own comfort.
Owen woke to find Ianto still asleep on his side of the sofa. The boy looked stupidly young, too young to be on the streets but Owen had seen much younger. Everyone had stories and everyone was pathetic and as far as Owen was concerned none of them would make it out.
Ianto’s eyes opened and he looked at Owen blearily before recognition set in. Owen nodded once and climbed off the sofa to wander into the bathroom. The time after taking angel left him more relaxed about things before life crashed back in and the claws of need tightened.
“Don’t have anything in the place to eat,” he said when he returned.
“I could buy you breakfast,” Ianto said, “nothing much,” he added at Owen’s incredulous look, “but something. I have a bit of money, just not enough for the rent or things…”
“Alright,” Owen said, “not going to turn down free food.”
They went to a small corner diner that didn’t mind how shabby the clientele looked so long as they paid and didn’t cause trouble. Neither of them was very hungry, Owen because the drugs were still in his system and Ianto because of the alcohol. But a plate of beans on toast was quickly demolished by both of them.
Ianto had brought his duffle bag and after they had finished big mugs of sweet tea he pulled out some money to pay and got to his feet.
“Thank you for last night,” he said to Owen.
“Where are you going?” Owen said.
“To earn some money,” Ianto replied, “somewhere closer to Greenwich.” His expression gave nothing away to Owen about how he felt.
Owen could almost feel Katie’s eyes on him and he inwardly cursed the effects of the drug even as his mouth opened and the words came out.
“You could stay with me,” Owen said. Ianto looked at him in surprise and a bit of suspicion. “You’d pay your own way,” he added, “could use some help toward the rent but you don’t bring work back with you.”
Ianto smirked a little at his description of what Ianto did but considered him carefully before nodding. “Why?” he asked curiously, “you don’t even like me.”
“You’re alright,” Owen said grudgingly, “and I could do with the money. There will be rules though okay?”
“Aside from no tricks in the flat?” Ianto said with a half smile.
Owen fought back a smile and scowled. “You don’t touch any of my stuff,” he said, “If I want to share anything I will offer it otherwise it’s off limits understood?”
“Understood,” Ianto said.
end part 1