Red Is My Colour Prompt for Day Ten
Title: Torchwood Widow
Author: blue_fjords
Characters/Pairings: Gwen/Rhys, Jack/Ianto, Rhys POV
Setting: post series two
Rating: PG-13 (for swearing and temporary character death)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Words: 1600
Summary: Rhys gets abandoned, and then called in to help. Gwen laughs, Jack dies, Ianto gets kissed.
Prompt: mug of hot cocoa in the snow
Gwen’s mug of hot cocoa sat there, abandoned, in the snow. The whip cream was starting to melt and soon the whole thing would be a sticky mess. Fitting.
Rhys sighed, took another swallow of his own hot cocoa, and turned to his companion.
“You know, Burl, if I were the kind of man to wax philosophical, I would say that this mug represents my marriage. Gwen is the hot cocoa. I am the snow. Torchwood is the whip cream. Hot cocoa and snow go well together, but when you add whip cream, it overflows. The mug can’t contain it. Or it becomes too sweet. Fuck it, the analogy is bollocks. I’m a Torchwood widow, that’s the long and short of it.”
His companion didn’t reply, not that he expected him to. Would have been nice for someone to talk back to him, though.
His pocket suddenly started playing “Macho Man.”
“Captain Pretty Boy sure has a lot of nerve,” he muttered to Burl, flipping the phone up and barking a surly, “What now?”
An unexpected voice was on the other line.
“Sorry, Ianto, it’s just . . . you’re on Jack’s phone.”
Pause.
“Yeah by the ringtones. He’s . . . well, never mind. What’s up?”
Ianto gave directions on the other end of the line.
“Okay, okay. I can be there in ten minutes. How come Gwen didn’t call?”
If Burl could have picked up on body language, he would have called that a tense pause.
“Do you mean that literally, or figuratively?”
Rhys didn’t wait for an answer, but stood up, downed the dregs of his cocoa, and carried both mugs back into the flat.
“Yeah, I’ll bring a big one. See you in ten.”
He hung up without saying goodbye (he figured Ianto wouldn’t take affront at his disgruntled behavior), grabbed a large set of keys, and left the flat. He gave Burl a mock salute upon passing him by but Burl, being a snowman, gave him nothing in return.
Rhys drove his car over to Harwood’s and exchanged it for the largest lorry he was licensed to drive. It should do fine for Torchwood’s purposes, he decided. Torchwood, bastard Torchwood, fucking up his day off yet again!
Gwen had made the hot cocoa, giggling as she added extra chocolate, licking the whip cream from her fingers, adding an extra dollop to his nose before licking that off, as well. They had just made a snowman in the garden and christened him Burl. Rhys was still humming “Silver and Gold” when Gwen’s mobile rang. She had not programmed any descriptive song in for a call from Jack, but Rhys knew who it was. And, as per usual, Gwen had gone running off. They really needed to expand their team. Three people, with the occasional assist from yours truly, was not enough to be protecting the world from the scum of the universe, he thought.
The address Ianto had given him was for a large warehouse with brightly painted blue doors. It looked kind of cheery in comparison to all the other warehouses in that section of Cardiff. Ianto was standing outside, hands in his pockets. He looked pretty calm, actually, which just made Rhys grind his teeth louder. He had gone through a couple of red lights to get there, after all.
“Ianto!”
“Rhys.”
“Well? What’s going on? Where’s Gwen?”
“Gwen’s inside.”
“Uh huh. The mighty Captain Jack with her?”
“Of course.”
Ianto reached up and unlocked the back of the lorry. “Ahhhh,” he said, surveying the storage area. “This will be good; thank you, Rhys.”
Rhys nodded, pleased. A little gratitude went a long way with Rhys Williams.
“We’re going to have to load the contraption into the lorry from inside the warehouse. You’ll see why.” Ianto had a slight smirk on his face. “I’ll roll back these doors here if you’ll drive the lorry inside.”
Rhys got back in the lorry and promptly felt his jaw drop when Ianto rolled back the doors. Holy shit. “The contraption,” Ianto had called it. Perhaps a more accurate term would be “great big ball of glowing, pulsating weirdness, with tentacles.” Tentacles that were currently wrapped around his wife. Rhys sighed. And around Captain Jack bloody Harkness.
At least they weren’t wrapped together. Gwen was standing almost upright, and Jack was double his own height off the ground. Those tentacles must be stronger than they appeared. As Rhys pulled into the warehouse and Ianto rolled the doors closed behind him, he could also make out the sound of Gwen and Jack laughing their arses off.
“Right,” Ianto addressed him. “We’re going to have to do this together, as Jack and Gwen aren’t much help in their current condition.”
Gwen had finally spotted him, and held out her free hand to him, but she was laughing too hard to form his name. Rhys gave her a little wave, which only caused her to laugh harder.
“Okay. This is a Flastorian. It’s fairly harmless, but we still need to stun it to transport it back to the Hub. It is extremely resistant to most forms of sedatives, so I’ve loaded darts with four times the usual strength in these dart guns. We want to hit it somewhere near its glowing core. Try not to get pulled in by one of those tentacles; you’d have a good time, but I wouldn’t.”
Rhys nodded, eyes beginning to shine. “This is just like playing paintball with my mates! And against a real live alien. I know I complain a bit about Gwen’s job, but this is seriously cool.”
“It’s also dangerous; those tentacles are very strong and ticklish,” Ianto stressed to him.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Okay, I’m going to circle around and approach from the other side. Give me ten seconds before advancing and firing. Try not to hit Gwen; these things would knock her out for days.”
Rhys gave him the thumb’s up, and Ianto took off. The next ten seconds were the slowest of Rhys’ life. His head filled with the sound of Gwen and Jack laughing. His legs moved forward as slowly as if they were made of lead. Then Ianto yelled “Now!” from the other side of the alien, and time returned to normal. Rhys fired his dart and screamed his rage. Wow, he felt manly.
The Flastorian flailed for a moment, and then the tentacles began to droop and loosen their hold on Gwen and Jack. Jack fell with an oof and lay on the ground groaning. Gwen stumbled out of reach of the Flastorian and ran to Rhys.
“Great shot, Rhys!” she cried, throwing her arms around him.
Rhys preened at the attention, but Ianto’s voice cut through the happy reunion.
“Would you help me get the Flastorian into the lorry before it wakes up?”
Rhys and Gwen both moved to help, and Rhys could see Jack struggling to his feet with Ianto’s help. Suddenly, one of the lax tentacles shot out of the Flastorian. Literally, the bloody thing detached; it was a fucking spear and it was headed right at Ianto. Jack shoved him unceremoniously aside and stepped into its path. Rhys was close enough that he could see the life leave his eyes. Gwen grabbed the dart gun out of his suddenly nerveless fingers and fired three darts into the core of the Flastorian. The glowing died out completely.
Ianto crawled over to Jack’s side and wrenched the spear-like tentacle out of his body before pulling him into his lap.
“Rhys. Rhys!” Rhys pulled his eyes away and looked at his wife. “Help me get this thing into the back of the lorry. Look, Jack will be fine in a few minutes; you’ve seen him die before.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Right. Let’s move the alien.”
Gwen grabbed a handful of tentacles for a good grip, and Rhys pulled down a ramp on the lorry, then got behind and pushed the Flastorian while Gwen pulled. Gwen jumped up and tugged the door of the lorry back down, before turning to Rhys.
Rhys was staring at Jack and Ianto. Jack was starting to twitch, and Ianto held him still as he coughed up some blood. Ianto’s hand stroked Jack’s face, pushing his hair out of his eyes, wiping blood away with a kerchief he had produced from somewhere. Rhys watched transfixed as Jack took a deep breath, tightened his grip on Ianto, and reached up to pull him into a kiss. He had good technique; Rhys could tell even from a distance.
“Rhys.”
Ah, that was his wife, calling his name. He shook himself, trying to focus.
“Let’s roll the doors back, yeah? Then we can leave.” She smiled at him, gap-toothed and beautiful. “Ianto will make us some new hot cocoa when we get to the Hub; his is better than mine, you’ll see.”
Rhys smiled at her. “No one’s cocoa is better than yours,” he said gallantly, pushing at the door.
Jack and Ianto followed them back to the Hub in the SUV, and Ianto did indeed treat them to his own hot cocoa after they unloaded the Flastorian (Jack pronounced it in a coma from sedative overdose - Rhys couldn’t feel too bad about that, all things considered, and neither did the others). Jack clapped him on the back and thanked him for his help before sending him home with Gwen. They took the Invisible Lift, Rhys’ favorite part about any trip to Torchwood, and as he looked down into the Hub at the two men standing so closely together, he considered that there were other ways of being a Torchwood widow. He tightened his grip on Gwen. He’d take the “occasional interrupted cocoa” version, thanks.
Author: blue_fjords
Characters/Pairings: Gwen/Rhys, Jack/Ianto, Rhys POV
Setting: post series two
Rating: PG-13 (for swearing and temporary character death)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Words: 1600
Summary: Rhys gets abandoned, and then called in to help. Gwen laughs, Jack dies, Ianto gets kissed.
Prompt: mug of hot cocoa in the snow
Gwen’s mug of hot cocoa sat there, abandoned, in the snow. The whip cream was starting to melt and soon the whole thing would be a sticky mess. Fitting.
Rhys sighed, took another swallow of his own hot cocoa, and turned to his companion.
“You know, Burl, if I were the kind of man to wax philosophical, I would say that this mug represents my marriage. Gwen is the hot cocoa. I am the snow. Torchwood is the whip cream. Hot cocoa and snow go well together, but when you add whip cream, it overflows. The mug can’t contain it. Or it becomes too sweet. Fuck it, the analogy is bollocks. I’m a Torchwood widow, that’s the long and short of it.”
His companion didn’t reply, not that he expected him to. Would have been nice for someone to talk back to him, though.
His pocket suddenly started playing “Macho Man.”
“Captain Pretty Boy sure has a lot of nerve,” he muttered to Burl, flipping the phone up and barking a surly, “What now?”
An unexpected voice was on the other line.
“Sorry, Ianto, it’s just . . . you’re on Jack’s phone.”
Pause.
“Yeah by the ringtones. He’s . . . well, never mind. What’s up?”
Ianto gave directions on the other end of the line.
“Okay, okay. I can be there in ten minutes. How come Gwen didn’t call?”
If Burl could have picked up on body language, he would have called that a tense pause.
“Do you mean that literally, or figuratively?”
Rhys didn’t wait for an answer, but stood up, downed the dregs of his cocoa, and carried both mugs back into the flat.
“Yeah, I’ll bring a big one. See you in ten.”
He hung up without saying goodbye (he figured Ianto wouldn’t take affront at his disgruntled behavior), grabbed a large set of keys, and left the flat. He gave Burl a mock salute upon passing him by but Burl, being a snowman, gave him nothing in return.
Rhys drove his car over to Harwood’s and exchanged it for the largest lorry he was licensed to drive. It should do fine for Torchwood’s purposes, he decided. Torchwood, bastard Torchwood, fucking up his day off yet again!
Gwen had made the hot cocoa, giggling as she added extra chocolate, licking the whip cream from her fingers, adding an extra dollop to his nose before licking that off, as well. They had just made a snowman in the garden and christened him Burl. Rhys was still humming “Silver and Gold” when Gwen’s mobile rang. She had not programmed any descriptive song in for a call from Jack, but Rhys knew who it was. And, as per usual, Gwen had gone running off. They really needed to expand their team. Three people, with the occasional assist from yours truly, was not enough to be protecting the world from the scum of the universe, he thought.
The address Ianto had given him was for a large warehouse with brightly painted blue doors. It looked kind of cheery in comparison to all the other warehouses in that section of Cardiff. Ianto was standing outside, hands in his pockets. He looked pretty calm, actually, which just made Rhys grind his teeth louder. He had gone through a couple of red lights to get there, after all.
“Ianto!”
“Rhys.”
“Well? What’s going on? Where’s Gwen?”
“Gwen’s inside.”
“Uh huh. The mighty Captain Jack with her?”
“Of course.”
Ianto reached up and unlocked the back of the lorry. “Ahhhh,” he said, surveying the storage area. “This will be good; thank you, Rhys.”
Rhys nodded, pleased. A little gratitude went a long way with Rhys Williams.
“We’re going to have to load the contraption into the lorry from inside the warehouse. You’ll see why.” Ianto had a slight smirk on his face. “I’ll roll back these doors here if you’ll drive the lorry inside.”
Rhys got back in the lorry and promptly felt his jaw drop when Ianto rolled back the doors. Holy shit. “The contraption,” Ianto had called it. Perhaps a more accurate term would be “great big ball of glowing, pulsating weirdness, with tentacles.” Tentacles that were currently wrapped around his wife. Rhys sighed. And around Captain Jack bloody Harkness.
At least they weren’t wrapped together. Gwen was standing almost upright, and Jack was double his own height off the ground. Those tentacles must be stronger than they appeared. As Rhys pulled into the warehouse and Ianto rolled the doors closed behind him, he could also make out the sound of Gwen and Jack laughing their arses off.
“Right,” Ianto addressed him. “We’re going to have to do this together, as Jack and Gwen aren’t much help in their current condition.”
Gwen had finally spotted him, and held out her free hand to him, but she was laughing too hard to form his name. Rhys gave her a little wave, which only caused her to laugh harder.
“Okay. This is a Flastorian. It’s fairly harmless, but we still need to stun it to transport it back to the Hub. It is extremely resistant to most forms of sedatives, so I’ve loaded darts with four times the usual strength in these dart guns. We want to hit it somewhere near its glowing core. Try not to get pulled in by one of those tentacles; you’d have a good time, but I wouldn’t.”
Rhys nodded, eyes beginning to shine. “This is just like playing paintball with my mates! And against a real live alien. I know I complain a bit about Gwen’s job, but this is seriously cool.”
“It’s also dangerous; those tentacles are very strong and ticklish,” Ianto stressed to him.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Okay, I’m going to circle around and approach from the other side. Give me ten seconds before advancing and firing. Try not to hit Gwen; these things would knock her out for days.”
Rhys gave him the thumb’s up, and Ianto took off. The next ten seconds were the slowest of Rhys’ life. His head filled with the sound of Gwen and Jack laughing. His legs moved forward as slowly as if they were made of lead. Then Ianto yelled “Now!” from the other side of the alien, and time returned to normal. Rhys fired his dart and screamed his rage. Wow, he felt manly.
The Flastorian flailed for a moment, and then the tentacles began to droop and loosen their hold on Gwen and Jack. Jack fell with an oof and lay on the ground groaning. Gwen stumbled out of reach of the Flastorian and ran to Rhys.
“Great shot, Rhys!” she cried, throwing her arms around him.
Rhys preened at the attention, but Ianto’s voice cut through the happy reunion.
“Would you help me get the Flastorian into the lorry before it wakes up?”
Rhys and Gwen both moved to help, and Rhys could see Jack struggling to his feet with Ianto’s help. Suddenly, one of the lax tentacles shot out of the Flastorian. Literally, the bloody thing detached; it was a fucking spear and it was headed right at Ianto. Jack shoved him unceremoniously aside and stepped into its path. Rhys was close enough that he could see the life leave his eyes. Gwen grabbed the dart gun out of his suddenly nerveless fingers and fired three darts into the core of the Flastorian. The glowing died out completely.
Ianto crawled over to Jack’s side and wrenched the spear-like tentacle out of his body before pulling him into his lap.
“Rhys. Rhys!” Rhys pulled his eyes away and looked at his wife. “Help me get this thing into the back of the lorry. Look, Jack will be fine in a few minutes; you’ve seen him die before.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Right. Let’s move the alien.”
Gwen grabbed a handful of tentacles for a good grip, and Rhys pulled down a ramp on the lorry, then got behind and pushed the Flastorian while Gwen pulled. Gwen jumped up and tugged the door of the lorry back down, before turning to Rhys.
Rhys was staring at Jack and Ianto. Jack was starting to twitch, and Ianto held him still as he coughed up some blood. Ianto’s hand stroked Jack’s face, pushing his hair out of his eyes, wiping blood away with a kerchief he had produced from somewhere. Rhys watched transfixed as Jack took a deep breath, tightened his grip on Ianto, and reached up to pull him into a kiss. He had good technique; Rhys could tell even from a distance.
“Rhys.”
Ah, that was his wife, calling his name. He shook himself, trying to focus.
“Let’s roll the doors back, yeah? Then we can leave.” She smiled at him, gap-toothed and beautiful. “Ianto will make us some new hot cocoa when we get to the Hub; his is better than mine, you’ll see.”
Rhys smiled at her. “No one’s cocoa is better than yours,” he said gallantly, pushing at the door.
Jack and Ianto followed them back to the Hub in the SUV, and Ianto did indeed treat them to his own hot cocoa after they unloaded the Flastorian (Jack pronounced it in a coma from sedative overdose - Rhys couldn’t feel too bad about that, all things considered, and neither did the others). Jack clapped him on the back and thanked him for his help before sending him home with Gwen. They took the Invisible Lift, Rhys’ favorite part about any trip to Torchwood, and as he looked down into the Hub at the two men standing so closely together, he considered that there were other ways of being a Torchwood widow. He tightened his grip on Gwen. He’d take the “occasional interrupted cocoa” version, thanks.