Just Once
Title: "Just Once"
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Notes/Summary: Jack is a terrible influence. Written for the July 2 prompt at horizonssing. (And yes, I'm aware that the prompt image probably looks nothing like the area around Radyr Weir. Sorry.)
Jack surfaced a few hundred yards upstream from Radyr Weir. So often these days a gasp or a sharp intake of breath meant the horror and pain of resurrection. To dare a frivolous lungful was wonderful and a little terrifying. He wiped his wet hair away from his forehead and squinted at the shore where Ianto was still standing with his hands in his pockets, looking concerned.
“If you’re afraid I’m going to drown, Ianto, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to be arrested,” Ianto grumbled and glared down at where Jack’s kit was folded up at his feet.
“You worry too much,” Jack said and dived under again, luxuriating in the feel of water on his bare skin. He swam down until his hands touched the bottom of the river - just a couple of meters - and then pushed back up toward the light and a new breath.
Ianto was still standing on the shore, still looking uncomfortable, and still glowering.
“You didn’t bring a towel.”
“I’ll sun myself dry,” Jack told him without even a token effort to conceal the mischief in his voice.
Ianto sighed. “You’re impossible.”
“People keep telling me that,” Jack said blithely and paddled closer to shore. “You really do worry too much. Come on. At least put your feet in.”
Ianto rolled his eyes. “Right, because I’m just aching to take my shoes and socks off, and probably my jacket and trousers, just so I can get dirty sticking my feet in the Taff.”
Jack grinned. “Take more than that off and I’ll make it worth your while.”
Ianto sputtered. “I hardly think -“
“There isn’t anyone here, Ianto,” Jack told him. “Look around. Quiet summer morning, just you and me-”
“Getting arrested.”
“Like that’s ever been a problem before,” Jack reminded him. “Come on, Ianto. Just once?”
Ianto checked to make sure no one was watching before reaching up to loosen his tie. “Alright. Just once.”
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Notes/Summary: Jack is a terrible influence. Written for the July 2 prompt at horizonssing. (And yes, I'm aware that the prompt image probably looks nothing like the area around Radyr Weir. Sorry.)
Jack surfaced a few hundred yards upstream from Radyr Weir. So often these days a gasp or a sharp intake of breath meant the horror and pain of resurrection. To dare a frivolous lungful was wonderful and a little terrifying. He wiped his wet hair away from his forehead and squinted at the shore where Ianto was still standing with his hands in his pockets, looking concerned.
“If you’re afraid I’m going to drown, Ianto, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to be arrested,” Ianto grumbled and glared down at where Jack’s kit was folded up at his feet.
“You worry too much,” Jack said and dived under again, luxuriating in the feel of water on his bare skin. He swam down until his hands touched the bottom of the river - just a couple of meters - and then pushed back up toward the light and a new breath.
Ianto was still standing on the shore, still looking uncomfortable, and still glowering.
“You didn’t bring a towel.”
“I’ll sun myself dry,” Jack told him without even a token effort to conceal the mischief in his voice.
Ianto sighed. “You’re impossible.”
“People keep telling me that,” Jack said blithely and paddled closer to shore. “You really do worry too much. Come on. At least put your feet in.”
Ianto rolled his eyes. “Right, because I’m just aching to take my shoes and socks off, and probably my jacket and trousers, just so I can get dirty sticking my feet in the Taff.”
Jack grinned. “Take more than that off and I’ll make it worth your while.”
Ianto sputtered. “I hardly think -“
“There isn’t anyone here, Ianto,” Jack told him. “Look around. Quiet summer morning, just you and me-”
“Getting arrested.”
“Like that’s ever been a problem before,” Jack reminded him. “Come on, Ianto. Just once?”
Ianto checked to make sure no one was watching before reaching up to loosen his tie. “Alright. Just once.”