Double Drabble: Summer Night
Title: Summer Night
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 503: Smell at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto enjoys the scent of flowers on a summer night.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
People who didn’t live there often seemed to be under the mistaken impression that Wales was always cold and generally wet, but that wasn’t the case at all. While they usually got plenty of rain to keep everywhere green and growing, the Welsh also enjoyed many days of good, sunny weather, especially in spring and summer.
Today had been a perfect example; it had been a scorcher, the kind of weather for basking on a beach and swimming in the sea rather than chasing aliens, but now the sun had set temperatures were dropping to a slightly more comfortable level. Cold drink in hand, Ianto stepped through the open French doors into his and Jack’s roof garden, where a cooling breeze off the sea made the flowers sway gently as if they were dancing.
He drew a deep breath, sniffing the air, rich with the heady scent of honeysuckle twining its way over the arches Jack had helped him build. Its smell brought back childhood memories of lying in bed on summer nights with the windows open, the sweet fragrance spreading over him like a comforting blanket, lulling him to sleep.
Next to Jack’s pheromones, it was Ianto’s favourite smell.
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 503: Smell at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto enjoys the scent of flowers on a summer night.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
People who didn’t live there often seemed to be under the mistaken impression that Wales was always cold and generally wet, but that wasn’t the case at all. While they usually got plenty of rain to keep everywhere green and growing, the Welsh also enjoyed many days of good, sunny weather, especially in spring and summer.
Today had been a perfect example; it had been a scorcher, the kind of weather for basking on a beach and swimming in the sea rather than chasing aliens, but now the sun had set temperatures were dropping to a slightly more comfortable level. Cold drink in hand, Ianto stepped through the open French doors into his and Jack’s roof garden, where a cooling breeze off the sea made the flowers sway gently as if they were dancing.
He drew a deep breath, sniffing the air, rich with the heady scent of honeysuckle twining its way over the arches Jack had helped him build. Its smell brought back childhood memories of lying in bed on summer nights with the windows open, the sweet fragrance spreading over him like a comforting blanket, lulling him to sleep.
Next to Jack’s pheromones, it was Ianto’s favourite smell.
The End