Advent '10 Fic: Requisition #HO4646
Title: Requisition #HO4646
Author: heddychaa
Characters: Team
Rating: R
Genre: Humour
Wordcount: ~504
Warnings: Sexual language
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and Torchwood's characters, concepts, and events belong to their respective owners, including but not limited to Russell T Davies, Steven Moffat, and the BBC.
Summary: "Strings of Christmas lights?" "Tried that last year. Myfanwy finds them very disorientating."
A/N: Advent fic 20, this one for treacle_tartlet, who requested "Tosh and Gwen trying to decorate the Hub for Christmas, with Ianto following them and taking all the decorations down because they contravene the Torchwood work safety regulations." The first of the Christmas-specific fics leading up to Christmas eve! OMG CHRISTMAS TEAMFIC YOU GUYS OMG. Didn't quite follow the prompt to the letter (physical comedy isn't much my forte!) but I got the spirit of it, maybe? Once again, sorry for the late story! Should be caught up soon! Thank you to azn_jack_fiend, _lullabelle_, and count_to_seven for the support and beta for all of this month's stories!
Requisition #HO4646
They sit at the boardroom table, Ianto having usurped Jack’s usual place at the head.
Seated to his left, Tosh suggests “Tinsel?”
Without looking up from his mysterious clipboard, Ianto says, “Nope. A fire hazard, and if it’s bad for cats, I expect it’ll be the same for pterodactyls.”
“Strings of lights?” Gwen puts in hopefully from his other side.
“We tried that before you joined up,” Ianto says, the unspoken ‘no’ evident in the tone of his voice. “Myfanwy finds them very disorientating.”
“Mistletoe?” Tosh asks, and nobody misses the accompanying stolen glance in Owen’s direction.
“Full of nargles,” Ianto replies, completely dry, “and a violation of office sexual harassment protocols, besides.”
Owen barks out one of his cruel laughs. “That’s rich. Since when did you follow those, Ianto?”
Ianto clears his throat, unperturbed. “I don’t, obviously, but that doesn’t change the fact that Gwen did ask me to get Torchwood on the straight and narrow bureaucratically.”
“I didn’t think he’d take it this far,” Gwen protests to the table, shrinking under glowers.
“When the hell has Ianto ever done anything halfway, Gwen?” Owen chides her with a roll of his eyes, “And now you’ve gone and as good as given him a royal dispensation for having a stick up his arse.”
“Just because nobody gave you the official go-ahead and a pay rise for standing around with your mouth hanging open...” Ianto snaps back, and Gwen snorts into her hand.
“OI!”
There’s a moment’s pause, filled by the sound of Gwen drumming her fingernails on the table.
“Oh, I get it, because that’s how he is normally, right?” Tosh announces, and then dissolves into belated laughter.
“A tree. How about a tree?” Gwen mumbles through the hand over her face, exasperated now.
“We don’t even have to put ornaments on it!” Tosh offers. “Nothing shiny or distracting at all!”
“Bloody cheerful! That’s the spirit of the season right there,” Owen grumbles.
“I’m not sweeping up pine needles,” Ianto replies. They all groan and lean back in their chairs, which is when Jack finally shows up, a paper cup in his left hand and a tray of four more balanced in his right. The room fills with the smell of hot chocolate, rich and warm and homey.
They all turn to Jack expectantly for support. Except for Ianto, who has his head down in an attempt at hiding his smug smile.
Jack sets the hot chocolates down and leans forward, palms flat to the surface of the table like he does when he has a mad proposal. He flashes them all a lecherous grin: “How about... I just tie a big red bow around my dick?”
Four heads snap at once in Ianto’s direction in the schadenfreude-fueled hope of catching his response. He doesn’t lift his head, just taps his capped pen on his clipboard thoughtfully and, after a moment’s hesitation, replies,
“That can be arranged.”
Author: heddychaa
Characters: Team
Rating: R
Genre: Humour
Wordcount: ~504
Warnings: Sexual language
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and Torchwood's characters, concepts, and events belong to their respective owners, including but not limited to Russell T Davies, Steven Moffat, and the BBC.
Summary: "Strings of Christmas lights?" "Tried that last year. Myfanwy finds them very disorientating."
A/N: Advent fic 20, this one for treacle_tartlet, who requested "Tosh and Gwen trying to decorate the Hub for Christmas, with Ianto following them and taking all the decorations down because they contravene the Torchwood work safety regulations." The first of the Christmas-specific fics leading up to Christmas eve! OMG CHRISTMAS TEAMFIC YOU GUYS OMG. Didn't quite follow the prompt to the letter (physical comedy isn't much my forte!) but I got the spirit of it, maybe? Once again, sorry for the late story! Should be caught up soon! Thank you to azn_jack_fiend, _lullabelle_, and count_to_seven for the support and beta for all of this month's stories!
Requisition #HO4646
They sit at the boardroom table, Ianto having usurped Jack’s usual place at the head.
Seated to his left, Tosh suggests “Tinsel?”
Without looking up from his mysterious clipboard, Ianto says, “Nope. A fire hazard, and if it’s bad for cats, I expect it’ll be the same for pterodactyls.”
“Strings of lights?” Gwen puts in hopefully from his other side.
“We tried that before you joined up,” Ianto says, the unspoken ‘no’ evident in the tone of his voice. “Myfanwy finds them very disorientating.”
“Mistletoe?” Tosh asks, and nobody misses the accompanying stolen glance in Owen’s direction.
“Full of nargles,” Ianto replies, completely dry, “and a violation of office sexual harassment protocols, besides.”
Owen barks out one of his cruel laughs. “That’s rich. Since when did you follow those, Ianto?”
Ianto clears his throat, unperturbed. “I don’t, obviously, but that doesn’t change the fact that Gwen did ask me to get Torchwood on the straight and narrow bureaucratically.”
“I didn’t think he’d take it this far,” Gwen protests to the table, shrinking under glowers.
“When the hell has Ianto ever done anything halfway, Gwen?” Owen chides her with a roll of his eyes, “And now you’ve gone and as good as given him a royal dispensation for having a stick up his arse.”
“Just because nobody gave you the official go-ahead and a pay rise for standing around with your mouth hanging open...” Ianto snaps back, and Gwen snorts into her hand.
“OI!”
There’s a moment’s pause, filled by the sound of Gwen drumming her fingernails on the table.
“Oh, I get it, because that’s how he is normally, right?” Tosh announces, and then dissolves into belated laughter.
“A tree. How about a tree?” Gwen mumbles through the hand over her face, exasperated now.
“We don’t even have to put ornaments on it!” Tosh offers. “Nothing shiny or distracting at all!”
“Bloody cheerful! That’s the spirit of the season right there,” Owen grumbles.
“I’m not sweeping up pine needles,” Ianto replies. They all groan and lean back in their chairs, which is when Jack finally shows up, a paper cup in his left hand and a tray of four more balanced in his right. The room fills with the smell of hot chocolate, rich and warm and homey.
They all turn to Jack expectantly for support. Except for Ianto, who has his head down in an attempt at hiding his smug smile.
Jack sets the hot chocolates down and leans forward, palms flat to the surface of the table like he does when he has a mad proposal. He flashes them all a lecherous grin: “How about... I just tie a big red bow around my dick?”
Four heads snap at once in Ianto’s direction in the schadenfreude-fueled hope of catching his response. He doesn’t lift his head, just taps his capped pen on his clipboard thoughtfully and, after a moment’s hesitation, replies,
“That can be arranged.”