Ficlet: Jack’s Umbrella Dilemma
Title: Jack’s Umbrella Dilemma
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Rating: G
Spoilers: Nada. Unless you don’t know it rains in Wales.
Summary: Jack doesn’t own an umbrella. Ianto wants to know why.
Word Count: 365
Written For: sincere’s prompt ‘Any, any, umbrella,’ at
fic_promptly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
It rains a lot in Wales; maybe that’s why everything is always so green. It’s always baffled Ianto that despite living in Cardiff for so long, Jack never seemed to be prepared to deal with the inevitable wet weather. There he stood in the tourist office, hair plastered to his head, rain leaving tracks down his face before soaking into his already sodden collar, and his coat dripping all over Ianto’s nice, clean floor.
“Jack, for pity’s sake, I just mopped the floor!”
“It’s raining.”
“Yes, I know, I was out in it this morning picking up your dry cleaning and the biscuits you insisted you had to have with your morning coffee. Haven’t you ever heard of umbrellas?”
“Of course I have. I just don’t happen to own one.”
“So I’ve noticed, and I don’t understand why. It’s only common sense in this climate.”
“Men don’t use umbrellas.”
“So not true! I do, and so do most of the men I know. In fact, you’re the sole exception. Even Rhys and Owen have umbrellas. You’ll have to do better than that.”
“I don’t like them.”
“They keep you dry when it’s raining. What’s not to like?” Ianto took Jack’s coat and hung it to dry, handing his lover a towel for his hair. “You wouldn’t come in looking like a drowned rat if you had one.”
“They don’t like me.”
“Excuse me?”
“They bite.”
Ianto tried desperately to keep a straight face as he looked at Jack’s forlorn expression.
“Bite?”
“Every time I try to put one up or down I get bitten. They’re savage!” Jack’s eyes were wide with sincerity.
“They’re not alive, Jack. You must be getting your fingers pinched in the mechanism.”
“Whatever. It still hurts.”
Ianto shook his head. Jack Harkness, immortal ex-Time Agent and leader of Torchwood Three had been shot, stabbed, incinerated, ripped apart by Weevils, thrown off rooftops, and must surely have broken every bone in his body at least once. Yet here he was, scared of umbrellas because they pinched his fingers.
“Come on, I’ll teach you how to work an umbrella without getting bitten.”
The smile Jack gave him was all the reward Ianto needed.
The End