Red Is My Colour Prompt for Day Five
Title: The Healing Properties of Beer
Author: blue_fjords
Pairings/Characters: Jack/Ianto, brief appearance by Gwen
Setting: post Exit Wounds
Word Count: roughly 1,600
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: PG
Summary: Jack is restless. Ianto brings beer. Cure!
Prompt:
WINTER WEATHER
Benny Goodman & Peggy Lee
I love the winter weather
Because the two of us can get together
There's nothing sweeter, finer
When it's nice and cold I can hold
My baby closer, to me
Collecting all the kisses that are due me
I love the winter weather
Because I've got my love to keep me warm
I love the winter weather
Because the two of us can get together
There's nothing sweeter, finer
When it's nice and cold I can hold
My baby closer, to me
Collecting little kisses that are due me
I love the winter weather
Because I've got my love to keep me warm
Jack was in a restless mood. The bone chilling cold that had gripped Cardiff for the past month had snapped the previous night, and the wet air carried a hint of humidity. It was too warm. Jack felt like he was suffocating.
Gwen slammed the back door of the SUV energetically and turned to him with a smile. “Well, Jack? Shall we stop and pick up a curry on the way back, surprise Ianto, yeah?”
Jack quickly fixed a smile on his face. “You go ahead, Gwen. This warm weather puts me in the mood to walk.”
Gwen looked startled. “Since when do you walk?”
“I’ll have you know that this coat swishes exceptionally well when I promenade.” He demonstrated, and then bowed with a flourish.
Gwen laughed. “You just don’t want to deal with the paperwork.”
That was true, too. Women’s knickers from the 44th century had come through the Rift two hours ago and set off the alarm. Usually, Jack had a fine appreciation for all kinds of undergarments, but the 44th century was an exception. Flannel spandex, seriously? He and Gwen had driven out towards Splott to look for them, finally finding them in an old man’s garden. Not even the look on the old guy’s face when he saw what his scarecrow was sporting could shake Jack out of his funk, though.
Gwen, however, looked convinced enough that nothing was bothering him. She climbed into the driver’s side of the SUV, and with a little wave, drove off and left him there. Good.
Jack sighed, shoved his hands in his pockets, and meandered aimlessly down the street, lost in thought for close to ten minutes. This part of Cardiff had still not quite recovered from the Gray Incident. Jack passed a school with boarded up windows, and hopped the fence to climb the fire escape up six floors to the roof. From this vantage point, he could make out picturesque cottages, a corner grocery, and a graveyard attached to a little church. Jack knew it.
Jack knew too many of the neighborhoods in Cardiff. He felt hemmed in, the dirt falling in his face yet again. Leadership was like a great lodestone hanging around his neck, pulling him to the earth. It tied him down, kept him chained in Cardiff. When he first started as a freelance agent with Torchwood, he traveled all around this planet. He smoked cigarettes in jazz dives in New York City, danced his way through Buenos Aires with partners who wore next to nothing, ate his way through Osaka seducing a geisha or three along the way. He didn’t neglect the little places, either. He spent a month as an honest-to-God cowboy in Missoula, Montana, and three months in a nameless village on the western coast of India trying (not very hard) to infiltrate an alien-run drug trafficking ring that didn’t actually exist.
Jack picked a pebble off the roof and rolled it between his hands before flinging it at a trash bin in the alley. It made a loud “Ping!” as it hit the metal lid and went skirting off into the road. Jack cursed at it in his native language, because he could. Because he was sick of Earth.
“Pebbles, Jack?” He hadn’t even heard Ianto pull up to the building, but there he was, standing in the doorway to the roof’s inner staircase, holding a couple of six packs of beer stamped with the Felinfoel Brewery seal.
“I’m feeling petty,” Jack replied.
“I see.”
Jack stepped closer to the edge of the building and leaned on a crenellation. Well, what an underfunded primary school in a working class neighborhood let pass as a crenellation, at any rate. “Felinfoel, Ianto?”
“I’m feeling Welsh.”
Jack grinned with little warmth. “You going to come here and give me one, or are those all for you?” he asked tauntingly. He knew Ianto was scared of heights, but he couldn’t stop himself from acting like a bastard. It was the weather. Definitely too warm for winter. It does strange things to a man.
“Might do.”
Ianto stood there for a minute or two more. Jack eyed him consideringly. He was wearing Jack’s favorite shirt, tie and waistcoat combination, with the sleeves rolled up on the shirt, the tie slightly loosened, and the waistcoat unbuttoned. Normally, Jack would have already jumped his bones. But tonight, Jack was dreaming of the stars and Ianto was decidedly of the earth.
Ianto seemed to gather himself. Pulling out a bottle opener, he popped the top on a beer, clutched the remaining tight and walked out to join Jack at a crenellation. Wordlessly, he handed the open bottle over, popped the top on another and took a long draw on the beer before settling back against the crenellation, sitting on the wall.
They drank in silence for the duration of their first beers. Ianto fished out two more. Jack was beginning to wonder if either of them would ever speak again when Ianto suddenly reached over and touched his knee, directing his attention to a small alley between some tiny cottages a couple of streets over.
“Found my one and only dog in that alley when I was four.”
Jack looked at him, startled.
“Her name was Beatrix.”
“She have a thing for rabbits?”
Ianto smiled slightly, not looking at him. “My mam used to read to me from The Tales of Peter Rabbit whenever I was sick.”
Jack took a long drink. Ianto didn’t often talk about his childhood. “What kind of dog was she?”
“Oh, some kind of terrier mix. She had a crooked little tail and a knack for stealing pies and getting me in trouble.”
Jack couldn’t help but picture a little Ianto with a scrappy little dog, covered in pie and devilish grins. The lodestone around his neck felt a tiny bit lighter.
Ianto took another draught of his beer and settled more fully into his crenellation.
”You see that tree down there? The big one with the knobby base? IJ + GD = <3 is carved on the far side.”
“Please tell me that GD is an underwear model in Paris now.”
“Barmaid at Huw’s Pub, on her third husband, and has five kids.”
“You dodged a bullet there, Ianto.”
Ianto grinned lazily as he finished his second beer. His eyes crinkled when he smiled like that. If he lived to reach fifty, people would be able to tell that someone had made him very happy from the wrinkles around his eyes.
“There used to be a hedge, next street over,” Ianto nodded over to his left. “She took my hand, led me behind that hedge and we played ‘Show Me Yours and I’ll Show You Mine.’” He paused, and leaned forward. “She cheated.”
Jack laughed out loud.
“I still carved the tree for her, though. I’m a sucker for blue eyes, I guess.”
“So’m I.”
The sun was starting to go down now. It gilded Ianto’s arms as he reached for another beer, and highlighted his eyelashes as he looked down for the bottle opener. Jack watched his throat as he tipped his head back to take a drink. Jack wanted to see him at fifty.
“You recognize the name of that corner grocery?” Ianto asked him, settling back again.
Jack frowned. It was vaguely familiar, but his memory hadn’t been up to its usual standards lately.
“That is home to my shoplifting offense. Well, the time I got caught, at any rate.”
“So you were the regular little Artful Dodger, then?” Jack asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Not really. I wasn’t very good at it. I was better at providing the distraction than lifting the goods.”
“Is this going to turn into a tale of Ianto Jones and his forty thieves?”
“Nope. Just Ianto Jones and Mark Jones, no relation, only boy I ever kissed.”
Jack looked at him thoughtfully. “Do you know what Mark Jones, boy kisser and thief extraordinaire, is doing now?”
Ianto lifted one shoulder in a sheepish shrug. “Prison. Money laundering.”
Jack almost fell off the roof, he laughed so hard. Ianto looked pleased, and downed the rest of his beer. When Jack managed to get a hold of himself again, he noticed that Ianto was starting to shiver. The unnatural warmth was seeping out with the sunlight, and a wind began to pick up.
“Hey, Ianto.”
Ianto looked across at him, smile playing on his lips and open affection in his eyes.
“I think we each need one more beer. I have a toast.”
Ianto nodded, popped them each a final bottle and handed one over.
Jack thought for a minute. “To the Jones family,” he said finally, tipping his bottle towards the graveyard. “Thanks for sharing.”
Ianto smiled, and drank his beer, watching Jack over the bottle. Jack just took a sip after the toast, and when Ianto finished his beer, he handed over his nearly full one.
“Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage?”
“I don’t need beer for that.” Jack stood up. “Nah, I just want to help warm you up. Come on, it’s getting colder. I’ll drive us home.”
“I don’t know Jack,” Ianto said as Jack pulled him to his feet. “I have beer. How are you going to stay warm?”
Jack leaned close and sang into his ear, “When it's nice and cold I can hold my baby closer, to me.”
Ianto snorted. “You’re a big sap, you know that, right?”
Jack just smiled, and tightened his hold as he maneuvered them down the staircase, through the empty school, and over to Ianto’s car. “I’ve got my love to keep me warm,” he sang softly.
As he buckled Ianto into the car and crossed over to the driver’s side, he rolled his shoulders. The lodestone was no longer a heavy magnet, keeping him pinned to the earth. Rather, the weight across his shoulders felt like an anchor, holding him.
Author: blue_fjords
Pairings/Characters: Jack/Ianto, brief appearance by Gwen
Setting: post Exit Wounds
Word Count: roughly 1,600
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: PG
Summary: Jack is restless. Ianto brings beer. Cure!
Prompt:
WINTER WEATHER
Benny Goodman & Peggy Lee
I love the winter weather
Because the two of us can get together
There's nothing sweeter, finer
When it's nice and cold I can hold
My baby closer, to me
Collecting all the kisses that are due me
I love the winter weather
Because I've got my love to keep me warm
I love the winter weather
Because the two of us can get together
There's nothing sweeter, finer
When it's nice and cold I can hold
My baby closer, to me
Collecting little kisses that are due me
I love the winter weather
Because I've got my love to keep me warm
Jack was in a restless mood. The bone chilling cold that had gripped Cardiff for the past month had snapped the previous night, and the wet air carried a hint of humidity. It was too warm. Jack felt like he was suffocating.
Gwen slammed the back door of the SUV energetically and turned to him with a smile. “Well, Jack? Shall we stop and pick up a curry on the way back, surprise Ianto, yeah?”
Jack quickly fixed a smile on his face. “You go ahead, Gwen. This warm weather puts me in the mood to walk.”
Gwen looked startled. “Since when do you walk?”
“I’ll have you know that this coat swishes exceptionally well when I promenade.” He demonstrated, and then bowed with a flourish.
Gwen laughed. “You just don’t want to deal with the paperwork.”
That was true, too. Women’s knickers from the 44th century had come through the Rift two hours ago and set off the alarm. Usually, Jack had a fine appreciation for all kinds of undergarments, but the 44th century was an exception. Flannel spandex, seriously? He and Gwen had driven out towards Splott to look for them, finally finding them in an old man’s garden. Not even the look on the old guy’s face when he saw what his scarecrow was sporting could shake Jack out of his funk, though.
Gwen, however, looked convinced enough that nothing was bothering him. She climbed into the driver’s side of the SUV, and with a little wave, drove off and left him there. Good.
Jack sighed, shoved his hands in his pockets, and meandered aimlessly down the street, lost in thought for close to ten minutes. This part of Cardiff had still not quite recovered from the Gray Incident. Jack passed a school with boarded up windows, and hopped the fence to climb the fire escape up six floors to the roof. From this vantage point, he could make out picturesque cottages, a corner grocery, and a graveyard attached to a little church. Jack knew it.
Jack knew too many of the neighborhoods in Cardiff. He felt hemmed in, the dirt falling in his face yet again. Leadership was like a great lodestone hanging around his neck, pulling him to the earth. It tied him down, kept him chained in Cardiff. When he first started as a freelance agent with Torchwood, he traveled all around this planet. He smoked cigarettes in jazz dives in New York City, danced his way through Buenos Aires with partners who wore next to nothing, ate his way through Osaka seducing a geisha or three along the way. He didn’t neglect the little places, either. He spent a month as an honest-to-God cowboy in Missoula, Montana, and three months in a nameless village on the western coast of India trying (not very hard) to infiltrate an alien-run drug trafficking ring that didn’t actually exist.
Jack picked a pebble off the roof and rolled it between his hands before flinging it at a trash bin in the alley. It made a loud “Ping!” as it hit the metal lid and went skirting off into the road. Jack cursed at it in his native language, because he could. Because he was sick of Earth.
“Pebbles, Jack?” He hadn’t even heard Ianto pull up to the building, but there he was, standing in the doorway to the roof’s inner staircase, holding a couple of six packs of beer stamped with the Felinfoel Brewery seal.
“I’m feeling petty,” Jack replied.
“I see.”
Jack stepped closer to the edge of the building and leaned on a crenellation. Well, what an underfunded primary school in a working class neighborhood let pass as a crenellation, at any rate. “Felinfoel, Ianto?”
“I’m feeling Welsh.”
Jack grinned with little warmth. “You going to come here and give me one, or are those all for you?” he asked tauntingly. He knew Ianto was scared of heights, but he couldn’t stop himself from acting like a bastard. It was the weather. Definitely too warm for winter. It does strange things to a man.
“Might do.”
Ianto stood there for a minute or two more. Jack eyed him consideringly. He was wearing Jack’s favorite shirt, tie and waistcoat combination, with the sleeves rolled up on the shirt, the tie slightly loosened, and the waistcoat unbuttoned. Normally, Jack would have already jumped his bones. But tonight, Jack was dreaming of the stars and Ianto was decidedly of the earth.
Ianto seemed to gather himself. Pulling out a bottle opener, he popped the top on a beer, clutched the remaining tight and walked out to join Jack at a crenellation. Wordlessly, he handed the open bottle over, popped the top on another and took a long draw on the beer before settling back against the crenellation, sitting on the wall.
They drank in silence for the duration of their first beers. Ianto fished out two more. Jack was beginning to wonder if either of them would ever speak again when Ianto suddenly reached over and touched his knee, directing his attention to a small alley between some tiny cottages a couple of streets over.
“Found my one and only dog in that alley when I was four.”
Jack looked at him, startled.
“Her name was Beatrix.”
“She have a thing for rabbits?”
Ianto smiled slightly, not looking at him. “My mam used to read to me from The Tales of Peter Rabbit whenever I was sick.”
Jack took a long drink. Ianto didn’t often talk about his childhood. “What kind of dog was she?”
“Oh, some kind of terrier mix. She had a crooked little tail and a knack for stealing pies and getting me in trouble.”
Jack couldn’t help but picture a little Ianto with a scrappy little dog, covered in pie and devilish grins. The lodestone around his neck felt a tiny bit lighter.
Ianto took another draught of his beer and settled more fully into his crenellation.
”You see that tree down there? The big one with the knobby base? IJ + GD = <3 is carved on the far side.”
“Please tell me that GD is an underwear model in Paris now.”
“Barmaid at Huw’s Pub, on her third husband, and has five kids.”
“You dodged a bullet there, Ianto.”
Ianto grinned lazily as he finished his second beer. His eyes crinkled when he smiled like that. If he lived to reach fifty, people would be able to tell that someone had made him very happy from the wrinkles around his eyes.
“There used to be a hedge, next street over,” Ianto nodded over to his left. “She took my hand, led me behind that hedge and we played ‘Show Me Yours and I’ll Show You Mine.’” He paused, and leaned forward. “She cheated.”
Jack laughed out loud.
“I still carved the tree for her, though. I’m a sucker for blue eyes, I guess.”
“So’m I.”
The sun was starting to go down now. It gilded Ianto’s arms as he reached for another beer, and highlighted his eyelashes as he looked down for the bottle opener. Jack watched his throat as he tipped his head back to take a drink. Jack wanted to see him at fifty.
“You recognize the name of that corner grocery?” Ianto asked him, settling back again.
Jack frowned. It was vaguely familiar, but his memory hadn’t been up to its usual standards lately.
“That is home to my shoplifting offense. Well, the time I got caught, at any rate.”
“So you were the regular little Artful Dodger, then?” Jack asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Not really. I wasn’t very good at it. I was better at providing the distraction than lifting the goods.”
“Is this going to turn into a tale of Ianto Jones and his forty thieves?”
“Nope. Just Ianto Jones and Mark Jones, no relation, only boy I ever kissed.”
Jack looked at him thoughtfully. “Do you know what Mark Jones, boy kisser and thief extraordinaire, is doing now?”
Ianto lifted one shoulder in a sheepish shrug. “Prison. Money laundering.”
Jack almost fell off the roof, he laughed so hard. Ianto looked pleased, and downed the rest of his beer. When Jack managed to get a hold of himself again, he noticed that Ianto was starting to shiver. The unnatural warmth was seeping out with the sunlight, and a wind began to pick up.
“Hey, Ianto.”
Ianto looked across at him, smile playing on his lips and open affection in his eyes.
“I think we each need one more beer. I have a toast.”
Ianto nodded, popped them each a final bottle and handed one over.
Jack thought for a minute. “To the Jones family,” he said finally, tipping his bottle towards the graveyard. “Thanks for sharing.”
Ianto smiled, and drank his beer, watching Jack over the bottle. Jack just took a sip after the toast, and when Ianto finished his beer, he handed over his nearly full one.
“Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage?”
“I don’t need beer for that.” Jack stood up. “Nah, I just want to help warm you up. Come on, it’s getting colder. I’ll drive us home.”
“I don’t know Jack,” Ianto said as Jack pulled him to his feet. “I have beer. How are you going to stay warm?”
Jack leaned close and sang into his ear, “When it's nice and cold I can hold my baby closer, to me.”
Ianto snorted. “You’re a big sap, you know that, right?”
Jack just smiled, and tightened his hold as he maneuvered them down the staircase, through the empty school, and over to Ianto’s car. “I’ve got my love to keep me warm,” he sang softly.
As he buckled Ianto into the car and crossed over to the driver’s side, he rolled his shoulders. The lodestone was no longer a heavy magnet, keeping him pinned to the earth. Rather, the weight across his shoulders felt like an anchor, holding him.