Ficlet: Waterlogged
Title: Waterlogged
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Owen.
Rating: G
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: After taking an unplanned dip courtesy of Owen, Ianto’s not in a good mood, but Jack knows how to make everything better.
Word Count: 500
Written For: Prompt #415: Past Challenges Revisited - #26 to #50, using #030: Wet, at slashthedrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
A/N: A little sequel to my drabble ‘Soggy Situation’.
As Ianto stalked, or rather squelched, into the Hub, Jack stared, wide-eyed, he burst out laughing. “You look like a drowned rat!”
Ianto glared one of his patented glares. “You find this amusing?” he ground out.
Jack’s laughter trailed off into a cough. “Um, no, of course not. What happened?”
“Owen apparently decided to see if he could drive the SUV across a duck pond. Unsurprisingly, he failed; we sank.”
“Hey!” Owen followed Ianto into the Hub, also dripping. “I didn’t do it on purpose, I accidentally hit the accelerator! There was a wasp in the car, I hate wasps!”
“It wasn’t a wasp, Owen, it was a harmless hoverfly!”
“Whatever,” Owen muttered, stalking past on his way to the locker room for a change of clothes.
“Where’s the SUV now?” Jack asked, frowning.
“At the garage, having the engine compartment drained and the pond weed removed. They’re going to clean it inside and out while they’re at it. It’s coming out of Owen’s wages.”
“Oi! I heard that!”
“Good! Saves me having to explain it to you later!” Ianto yelled after the medic. “I called Rhys to pick us and the SUV’s contents up in one of Harwood’s lorries. He’s down in the garage, unloading. Owen was supposed to be helping him, but obviously he can’t even do that right.” Ianto’s shoulders slumped in defeat and the last of Jack’s amusement drained away.
“Are you okay?”
“No. I’m wet, cold, tired, my head aches, and I think there are still tadpoles inside my shirt.” Ianto squirmed uncomfortably.
“What you need is a nice shower.”
Ianto’s eyebrow went up. “Your solution to my being wet is to make me even wetter?”
“Ah, but it’ll be hot water! You’ll be warm and wet instead of cold and wet, then I’ll dry you with a big fluffy towel, get you into dry clothes, and make you a soothing cup of tea.”
A faint smile touched Ianto’s lips. “That does sound rather nice,” he admitted.
“I do know what I’m talking about sometimes.”
Ianto nodded agreement. “Sometimes.”
“Come on, the shower in my quarters has better water pressure, not to mention warmer water and fluffier towels.”
Ianto’s smile grew a bit wider as he allowed Jack to tug him towards his office and the bunker below.
Passing through the glass-walled office, he frowned as Jack paused, scanning his shelves. “Ah, this will do!” Jack picked up a jar, emptying the oddments it contained into a small cardboard box on another shelf, before continuing towards the manhole with Ianto in tow.
“What’s the jar for?” Ianto asked, puzzled.
“It’s just in case you’re right about the tadpoles,” Jack replied, grinning.
“Ah, I should’ve guessed.
An hour later, Ianto was settled on Jack’s bunk, warm and dry, sipping tea, munching cookies, and watching seven tadpoles, halfway through their metamorphosis into frogs, swimming about in the jar. Tomorrow he’d take them back to their pond, but this time he intended to stay firmly on dry land.
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Owen.
Rating: G
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: After taking an unplanned dip courtesy of Owen, Ianto’s not in a good mood, but Jack knows how to make everything better.
Word Count: 500
Written For: Prompt #415: Past Challenges Revisited - #26 to #50, using #030: Wet, at slashthedrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
A/N: A little sequel to my drabble ‘Soggy Situation’.
As Ianto stalked, or rather squelched, into the Hub, Jack stared, wide-eyed, he burst out laughing. “You look like a drowned rat!”
Ianto glared one of his patented glares. “You find this amusing?” he ground out.
Jack’s laughter trailed off into a cough. “Um, no, of course not. What happened?”
“Owen apparently decided to see if he could drive the SUV across a duck pond. Unsurprisingly, he failed; we sank.”
“Hey!” Owen followed Ianto into the Hub, also dripping. “I didn’t do it on purpose, I accidentally hit the accelerator! There was a wasp in the car, I hate wasps!”
“It wasn’t a wasp, Owen, it was a harmless hoverfly!”
“Whatever,” Owen muttered, stalking past on his way to the locker room for a change of clothes.
“Where’s the SUV now?” Jack asked, frowning.
“At the garage, having the engine compartment drained and the pond weed removed. They’re going to clean it inside and out while they’re at it. It’s coming out of Owen’s wages.”
“Oi! I heard that!”
“Good! Saves me having to explain it to you later!” Ianto yelled after the medic. “I called Rhys to pick us and the SUV’s contents up in one of Harwood’s lorries. He’s down in the garage, unloading. Owen was supposed to be helping him, but obviously he can’t even do that right.” Ianto’s shoulders slumped in defeat and the last of Jack’s amusement drained away.
“Are you okay?”
“No. I’m wet, cold, tired, my head aches, and I think there are still tadpoles inside my shirt.” Ianto squirmed uncomfortably.
“What you need is a nice shower.”
Ianto’s eyebrow went up. “Your solution to my being wet is to make me even wetter?”
“Ah, but it’ll be hot water! You’ll be warm and wet instead of cold and wet, then I’ll dry you with a big fluffy towel, get you into dry clothes, and make you a soothing cup of tea.”
A faint smile touched Ianto’s lips. “That does sound rather nice,” he admitted.
“I do know what I’m talking about sometimes.”
Ianto nodded agreement. “Sometimes.”
“Come on, the shower in my quarters has better water pressure, not to mention warmer water and fluffier towels.”
Ianto’s smile grew a bit wider as he allowed Jack to tug him towards his office and the bunker below.
Passing through the glass-walled office, he frowned as Jack paused, scanning his shelves. “Ah, this will do!” Jack picked up a jar, emptying the oddments it contained into a small cardboard box on another shelf, before continuing towards the manhole with Ianto in tow.
“What’s the jar for?” Ianto asked, puzzled.
“It’s just in case you’re right about the tadpoles,” Jack replied, grinning.
“Ah, I should’ve guessed.
An hour later, Ianto was settled on Jack’s bunk, warm and dry, sipping tea, munching cookies, and watching seven tadpoles, halfway through their metamorphosis into frogs, swimming about in the jar. Tomorrow he’d take them back to their pond, but this time he intended to stay firmly on dry land.
The End