Cocktail Hour
Title: Cocktail Hour
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-13 for naughty talk and booze, I suppose.
Notes/Summary: In which there is drink, as well as innuendo. The cocktail Jack mentions is 1 shot each sloe gin, vodka, Southern Comfort, and Galliano, then topped up with orange juice. Written for the July 10 prompt at horizonssing.
Summer Rain
Ingredients:
2 Shots De Kuyper Cranberry Liqueur
Top up Apple Juice
Method:
Half fill a highball glass with cubed ice. Pour in the De Kuyper Cranberry Liqueur. Top up with apple juice. Add a squeeze of lime juice. Muddle the ingredients together in the glass. Garnish with a slice of lime.
The South of Wales was increasingly under water. The storms, which had battered the landscape one after another over the last two days, weren’t quite natural. While it wasn’t technically Torchwood’s fault, Jack was making damn sure that Torchwood was taking a bit of responsibility toward resolving the issue.
All of which was to say that the next time an alien offered to demonstrate a piece of equipment geared toward ‘mild atmospheric excitation,’ Jack would be tempted to shoot first and ask questions later.
He’d spent the better part of his evening trying to calibrate the Rift Manipulator to counter the pulse, and almost didn’t notice when Ianto placed a glass on his desk.
“What’s this?”
“Juice,” Ianto replied, taking a sip from a matching tumbler.
Jack eyed it suspiciously. “And?”
“Not juice.”
Jack lifted the glass to his lips. It was sweet, and the burn of alcohol was faint. Not that it mattered. Drink had long ceased to have much of an effect on him. When he drank, it was only ever for pleasure, or for remembrance.
“Cranberry extract, neutral spirit, apple juice, probably from concentrate,“ he said, listing the flavors he recognized. “Artificial color -“
Ianto rolled his eyes. “It’s called a Summer Rain. Which, since we seem to be having far too much of it at the moment, seemed appropriate.”
Jack grinned. “You know, next time we have cocktails, I’m asking for a Long Slow Comfortable Screw Against the Wall.”
“Play your cards right,” Ianto said as he leaned down to straighten Jack’s collar, “and maybe you’ll get that anyway.”
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-13 for naughty talk and booze, I suppose.
Notes/Summary: In which there is drink, as well as innuendo. The cocktail Jack mentions is 1 shot each sloe gin, vodka, Southern Comfort, and Galliano, then topped up with orange juice. Written for the July 10 prompt at horizonssing.
Summer Rain
Ingredients:
2 Shots De Kuyper Cranberry Liqueur
Top up Apple Juice
Method:
Half fill a highball glass with cubed ice. Pour in the De Kuyper Cranberry Liqueur. Top up with apple juice. Add a squeeze of lime juice. Muddle the ingredients together in the glass. Garnish with a slice of lime.
The South of Wales was increasingly under water. The storms, which had battered the landscape one after another over the last two days, weren’t quite natural. While it wasn’t technically Torchwood’s fault, Jack was making damn sure that Torchwood was taking a bit of responsibility toward resolving the issue.
All of which was to say that the next time an alien offered to demonstrate a piece of equipment geared toward ‘mild atmospheric excitation,’ Jack would be tempted to shoot first and ask questions later.
He’d spent the better part of his evening trying to calibrate the Rift Manipulator to counter the pulse, and almost didn’t notice when Ianto placed a glass on his desk.
“What’s this?”
“Juice,” Ianto replied, taking a sip from a matching tumbler.
Jack eyed it suspiciously. “And?”
“Not juice.”
Jack lifted the glass to his lips. It was sweet, and the burn of alcohol was faint. Not that it mattered. Drink had long ceased to have much of an effect on him. When he drank, it was only ever for pleasure, or for remembrance.
“Cranberry extract, neutral spirit, apple juice, probably from concentrate,“ he said, listing the flavors he recognized. “Artificial color -“
Ianto rolled his eyes. “It’s called a Summer Rain. Which, since we seem to be having far too much of it at the moment, seemed appropriate.”
Jack grinned. “You know, next time we have cocktails, I’m asking for a Long Slow Comfortable Screw Against the Wall.”
“Play your cards right,” Ianto said as he leaned down to straighten Jack’s collar, “and maybe you’ll get that anyway.”