It's raining fic just now. Not complaining!
Ficlet.
Torchwood
Jack and Ianto. After Cyberwoman and Countrycide ie. Jack and Ianto are not 'an item' yet.
Summary: Jack hears singing...
Rating: safe for all I think
The lyrics are from 'St Louis Woman' by the late great William Christopher Handy.
It was 7.30 in the morning and all good men and true should be still in bed cuddling their lover or in the shower, and, as the only bed in the place was his, and he unfortunately wasn't being cuddled at the moment, the singing he could hear must be coming from the shower.
Jack crept along the corridor as quietly as he could - which was about a stealthy as a Labrador if the truth were told - but he reached the bathroom undetected. The voice was coming from in there, and, judging by the abandon with which he was giving it up, the singer thought himself completely alone in the place.
The voice was Ianto's, but any idea Jack had of catching the young archivist 'sans suit', or maybe a little more deshabille even than that (gasp) in a towel only? - went out the window at the realisation that this was a deeply private moment he had stumbled on. A performance that he was lucky enough to witness, but not to share.
The door wasn't fully closed and Jack could see the corner of the shower cubicle, and the heel and calf of someone standing in the spray. He pushed the door open a little more to get a better view of the showeree - but, dammit, the shower curtain had been pulled almost right across.
Trust Ianto. Jack smiled to himself. Even when he thinks he's got the place to himself he doesn't let his guard down. But Jack wasn't quite right there. Ianto was letting his guard down alright, just not in the way his exhibitionist boss expected.
Ianto Jones was singing the blues... slow, loud and from the heart.
I hate to see
that evenin' sun go down
makes me think I'm
on my last go round
feelin' tomorrow
like I feel today
gon' pack my grip and
make my get-away.....
Torchwood
Jack and Ianto. After Cyberwoman and Countrycide ie. Jack and Ianto are not 'an item' yet.
Summary: Jack hears singing...
Rating: safe for all I think
The lyrics are from 'St Louis Woman' by the late great William Christopher Handy.
It was 7.30 in the morning and all good men and true should be still in bed cuddling their lover or in the shower, and, as the only bed in the place was his, and he unfortunately wasn't being cuddled at the moment, the singing he could hear must be coming from the shower.
Jack crept along the corridor as quietly as he could - which was about a stealthy as a Labrador if the truth were told - but he reached the bathroom undetected. The voice was coming from in there, and, judging by the abandon with which he was giving it up, the singer thought himself completely alone in the place.
The voice was Ianto's, but any idea Jack had of catching the young archivist 'sans suit', or maybe a little more deshabille even than that (gasp) in a towel only? - went out the window at the realisation that this was a deeply private moment he had stumbled on. A performance that he was lucky enough to witness, but not to share.
The door wasn't fully closed and Jack could see the corner of the shower cubicle, and the heel and calf of someone standing in the spray. He pushed the door open a little more to get a better view of the showeree - but, dammit, the shower curtain had been pulled almost right across.
Trust Ianto. Jack smiled to himself. Even when he thinks he's got the place to himself he doesn't let his guard down. But Jack wasn't quite right there. Ianto was letting his guard down alright, just not in the way his exhibitionist boss expected.
Ianto Jones was singing the blues... slow, loud and from the heart.
I hate to see
that evenin' sun go down
makes me think I'm
on my last go round
feelin' tomorrow
like I feel today
gon' pack my grip and
make my get-away.....