Double Drabble: Not Superstition
Title: Not Superstition
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 640: Thirteen at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Jack’s refusing to get up.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“Jack?” Ianto nudged the lump buried beneath the bedcovers; it wasn’t like his lover to stay in bed so late. “It’s morning; time to get up.”
“I don’t want to,” a muffled voice whined. “I’m staying here until tomorrow.”
That definitely wasn’t right. Jack was perfectly happy to stay in bed for hours if he had Ianto there with him, but voluntarily staying here by himself just never happened.
“What’s wrong, are you sick? Should I call Owen?”
A hand emerged, drawing the covers back just far enough for a pair of blue eyes to glare balefully up at Ianto.
“It’s Friday the thirteenth,” Jack said, as if that explained everything. Come to think of it, maybe it did.
“I thought you weren’t superstitious. That’s what you’ve always claimed.” Ianto didn’t believe in superstitions either; they were a load of nonsense.
“I’m not!”
“And yet…” Ianto folded his arms over his chest.
“Remember what happened last Friday the thirteenth? First that alien bit my nose off, then my hair caught on fire, and then I got run over by the SUV when the handbrake slipped! I’m not taking any chances this time; the safest place to be is in bed.”
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 640: Thirteen at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Jack’s refusing to get up.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“Jack?” Ianto nudged the lump buried beneath the bedcovers; it wasn’t like his lover to stay in bed so late. “It’s morning; time to get up.”
“I don’t want to,” a muffled voice whined. “I’m staying here until tomorrow.”
That definitely wasn’t right. Jack was perfectly happy to stay in bed for hours if he had Ianto there with him, but voluntarily staying here by himself just never happened.
“What’s wrong, are you sick? Should I call Owen?”
A hand emerged, drawing the covers back just far enough for a pair of blue eyes to glare balefully up at Ianto.
“It’s Friday the thirteenth,” Jack said, as if that explained everything. Come to think of it, maybe it did.
“I thought you weren’t superstitious. That’s what you’ve always claimed.” Ianto didn’t believe in superstitions either; they were a load of nonsense.
“I’m not!”
“And yet…” Ianto folded his arms over his chest.
“Remember what happened last Friday the thirteenth? First that alien bit my nose off, then my hair caught on fire, and then I got run over by the SUV when the handbrake slipped! I’m not taking any chances this time; the safest place to be is in bed.”
The End