Ficlet: Lonely Night, The Lonely Little Hotel Room Remix
Title: Lonely Night, The Lonely Little Hotel Room Remix
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Rating: G
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Jack’s in London for a UNIT conference, but his accommodations leave a lot to be desired.
Word Count: 521
Written For: The Remix Challenge at
fic_promptly, remixing my own fill ‘Lonely Night’, which was written for
falkner’s prompt ‘any, any, alone on a cold night’.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
The hotel room is pokey and dismal. As he throws off his clothes and climbs under the covers of the cold, too small, too hard bed, Jack wishes he’d asked Ianto to make his reservation instead of leaving it up to UNIT. At the time, he’d figured that if they wanted him in London for this conference they could damn well pay for his accommodations. He should’ve known they’d penny pinch as much as possible. Bad enough he had to trek to London in the first place for these deadly dull meetings that as far as he can tell, serve no useful purpose whatsoever, but now he has to spend the night alone in a cramped single bed. He’s slept on floors that were more comfortable.
He wishes Ianto was here with him now, or better yet, that he was home with Ianto, snuggled up in the big, soft, cosy bed they shared in Ianto’s homely little flat. The bedroom there isn’t all that much bigger than his hotel room, but it’s about a thousand times more comfortable.
Looking at his watch, he sees it’s almost one in the morning. The meeting went on very late, they didn’t get out of the conference room, where he’d spent the entire day being bored to tears, until after midnight. Then he’d been shoved into a taxi with three other people and driven back here. Was it too late to call Ianto? He was probably already asleep, snug and warm. Then again, one o’clock wasn’t that late for a Torchwood agent…
Reaching for his mobile, Jack presses speed dial and listens to the phone ringing on the other end. After a moment, a muffled voice answers.
“Hello?”
“Hey! Sorry for calling so late, I just wanted to hear your voice. Are you in bed? I miss you. UNIT’s idea of a hotel room is a shoebox with a single bed.”
“Hi, Jack. Yeah, miss you too, the bed’s cold and I can’t warm my feet on you.”
Ianto sounds slightly peevish as he complains and it makes Jack laugh.
“Sorry about that. If it’s any consolation, the bed here is cold too. Not to mention hard, lumpy, and even smaller than my old cot. I’m seriously considering bedding down on the floor. I think it’d probably be more comfortable.”
They talk for a while, and there’s a feeling of closeness despite the miles between them. Jack wishes he was home already, hearing Ianto’s peaceful breathing beside him, but it’s only for one night. The conference ends tomorrow evening and he can be back at Ianto’s flat by nine if the traffic isn’t too bad.
Ianto sounds sleepy and soon his voice trails off. Jack can just picture him, fast asleep, the phone still pressed to his ear, and it makes him smile in the darkness.
“Sweet dreams.” He whispers the words, not wanting to wake his lover, then hangs up, setting his phone on the bedside cabinet. Pulling the covers up around him, he shifts about trying to get comfortable and closes his eyes, at last drifting off to sleep to dream of home.
The End