[fic] - The pyjama game 1/1 - Torchwood
I was supposed to be working on chapter 2 of Identity Crisis, but got this idea instead.
Enjoy!
Title: The pyjama game
Author: Ceindreadh
Characters/Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Word Count: <700
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Fluff and humour
Warning: Unbeta'ed and written after midnight, zzzzz!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Torchwood characters, I'm only borrowing them, and I promise to return them in minty fresh condition when I'm finished.
Notes: Inspiration struck when I was digging out some winter clothes. Enjoy!
Has no connection with the movie of the same name
----------------
Jack lay sprawled across Ianto's double bed. He stretched himself lazily, the aches in his body testament to the sexual exertions of the previous hour. Jack glanced over at the clock on Ianto's bedside table. Not too late, he thought. Maybe he'd be able to persuade Ianto to go again once he finished in the bathroom.
Jack heard the sound of a toilet flushing, followed by running water. He quickly rolled over to his side, positioning himself in his most seductive pose as he watched the bathroom door. The sensual smile faded from his lips as Ianto appeared in the doorway and flicked the bathroom light off.
"Something the matter, Jack?" asked Ianto, giving Jack a perfunctory kiss on the forehead as he climbed onto the bed and pulled the duvet around them.
"You're wearing tartan pyjamas," said Jack, pouting. Pyjamas were not a good thing in his opinion. Anything that came between his eyes and Ianto's body was a very bad thing. He was willing to concede that clothing during working hours was pretty much a necessity - nudity not being a very practical dress code when catching aliens or serving coffee - and also that the 'cute suit' and various other items of Ianto's wardrobe only served to accentuate that body. Jack glared at the pyjamas wondering why there was never a defabricator around when he needed one. He'd tried to subtly hint to Tosh that maybe she should consider inventing one as a special project, but she'd turned him down. Maybe he should have been a little less graphic in his descriptions of the uses for such devices.
"Your powers of observation do you credit, Jack," said Ianto. He reached for the light switch, but Jack caught his hand in his and ran his tongue over the palm.
"You're wearing pyjamas," repeated Jack, "You never wear pyjamas in bed."
"I do when it's bloody freezing outside and the radiator's on the blink." Ianto took his hand back from Jack and patted him lightly on the cheek.
Jack reached out to pull Ianto closer, "I could keep you warm. You do know that skin to skin contact is the most efficient way to conserve body heat."
Ianto pushed away slightly, "And you know that we've got a UNIT video conference call set up for first thing in the morning. I don't want to have bags under my eyes because you've kept me up all night...again. And you know very well that's what'll happen if I take these off."
Jack plucked at the material on Ianto's shoulder. "You do know that it's probably illegal for you to be wearing a tartan pattern that you're not entitled to. Why I could have you arrested, thrown in the cells. Maybe you'd better take it off before anybody sees."
Ianto batted Jack's hand away. "One, we'll play out your bad cop fantasies another time, 'Captain'. Two, I'm not planning on letting anybody else see me in them." He leaned forward and kissed Jack on the tip of his nose. "And three, what makes you think I'm not entitled to a tartan?"
"You're part Scottish?" said Jack, a look of scepticism in his face. "Not according to your Torchwood files."
"Files don't have all the answers," said Ianto. "But I could prove that I'm eligible to wear a MacDonald tartan." He waited a few seconds, knowing that Jack's curiosity would beg to be satisfied, and he wasn't disappointed.
"How?"
"Easy," said Ianto. "Stick your hands down my pants and you'll feel a quarter pounder."
If laughter could be converted into heat, Ianto wouldn't have needed his radiator for a month, but since it couldn't, he decided to settle for a Jack shaped hot water bottle. "Sleep," he ordered. "And if you're very good, I'll let you check my eligibility in the morning."
And in the morning, Jack found it was much tastier than a quarter pounder.
----------------------
The End
Notes: Yes, okay, it was all just leading up to the 'joke', I do apologize.
Ceindreadh
Enjoy!
Title: The pyjama game
Author: Ceindreadh
Characters/Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Word Count: <700
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Fluff and humour
Warning: Unbeta'ed and written after midnight, zzzzz!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Torchwood characters, I'm only borrowing them, and I promise to return them in minty fresh condition when I'm finished.
Notes: Inspiration struck when I was digging out some winter clothes. Enjoy!
Has no connection with the movie of the same name
----------------
Jack lay sprawled across Ianto's double bed. He stretched himself lazily, the aches in his body testament to the sexual exertions of the previous hour. Jack glanced over at the clock on Ianto's bedside table. Not too late, he thought. Maybe he'd be able to persuade Ianto to go again once he finished in the bathroom.
Jack heard the sound of a toilet flushing, followed by running water. He quickly rolled over to his side, positioning himself in his most seductive pose as he watched the bathroom door. The sensual smile faded from his lips as Ianto appeared in the doorway and flicked the bathroom light off.
"Something the matter, Jack?" asked Ianto, giving Jack a perfunctory kiss on the forehead as he climbed onto the bed and pulled the duvet around them.
"You're wearing tartan pyjamas," said Jack, pouting. Pyjamas were not a good thing in his opinion. Anything that came between his eyes and Ianto's body was a very bad thing. He was willing to concede that clothing during working hours was pretty much a necessity - nudity not being a very practical dress code when catching aliens or serving coffee - and also that the 'cute suit' and various other items of Ianto's wardrobe only served to accentuate that body. Jack glared at the pyjamas wondering why there was never a defabricator around when he needed one. He'd tried to subtly hint to Tosh that maybe she should consider inventing one as a special project, but she'd turned him down. Maybe he should have been a little less graphic in his descriptions of the uses for such devices.
"Your powers of observation do you credit, Jack," said Ianto. He reached for the light switch, but Jack caught his hand in his and ran his tongue over the palm.
"You're wearing pyjamas," repeated Jack, "You never wear pyjamas in bed."
"I do when it's bloody freezing outside and the radiator's on the blink." Ianto took his hand back from Jack and patted him lightly on the cheek.
Jack reached out to pull Ianto closer, "I could keep you warm. You do know that skin to skin contact is the most efficient way to conserve body heat."
Ianto pushed away slightly, "And you know that we've got a UNIT video conference call set up for first thing in the morning. I don't want to have bags under my eyes because you've kept me up all night...again. And you know very well that's what'll happen if I take these off."
Jack plucked at the material on Ianto's shoulder. "You do know that it's probably illegal for you to be wearing a tartan pattern that you're not entitled to. Why I could have you arrested, thrown in the cells. Maybe you'd better take it off before anybody sees."
Ianto batted Jack's hand away. "One, we'll play out your bad cop fantasies another time, 'Captain'. Two, I'm not planning on letting anybody else see me in them." He leaned forward and kissed Jack on the tip of his nose. "And three, what makes you think I'm not entitled to a tartan?"
"You're part Scottish?" said Jack, a look of scepticism in his face. "Not according to your Torchwood files."
"Files don't have all the answers," said Ianto. "But I could prove that I'm eligible to wear a MacDonald tartan." He waited a few seconds, knowing that Jack's curiosity would beg to be satisfied, and he wasn't disappointed.
"How?"
"Easy," said Ianto. "Stick your hands down my pants and you'll feel a quarter pounder."
If laughter could be converted into heat, Ianto wouldn't have needed his radiator for a month, but since it couldn't, he decided to settle for a Jack shaped hot water bottle. "Sleep," he ordered. "And if you're very good, I'll let you check my eligibility in the morning."
And in the morning, Jack found it was much tastier than a quarter pounder.
----------------------
The End
Notes: Yes, okay, it was all just leading up to the 'joke', I do apologize.
Ceindreadh