TW fic: "Even Orange Juice Can Be an Occupational Hazard" (PG, 545 words, Jack/Ianto)
Title: Even Orange Juice Can Be an Occupational Hazard
Rating: G
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Word Count: 545
Summary: After a long night fighting aliens, Jack and Ianto just want to eat breakfast in a diner. Too bad the orange juice is suspect.
Teaser: "Those are not happy-fun-time instructions then," Ianto said. "Not that I imagine viruses or bacteria are capable of happy-fun-time."
Even Orange Juice Can Be an Occupational Hazard
Ianto peered carefully into the half-empty tumbler. "It's an occupational hazard," he said.
Jack sighed deeply and extended the control pad of his wrist-strap with a snap. Ianto had remarked the week before that Jack's strap was almost as advanced as the new iPhone, and been answered with a polite, but thin chuckle. "I know," Jack said. "I hate being so paranoid, but sometimes a rotten glass of orange juice isn't just bad service."
"Right," said Ianto. "It could be the vanguard of a pulp-based invasion force."
Jack did complicated things to his wrist-strap. "Nah," he said without looking up. "It's much more likely to be a directed viro-bacteria. They thrive on simple sugars."
"Viro-bacteria," Ianto repeated, helpfully tilting the tumbler for Jack to extract a drop of it with the handle of his spoon. "I assume that's a hybrid between a virus and a bacterium?"
"That's right," said Jack, depositing the drop of orange juice in a divot on his wrist-strap. "Mid-23rd century biological warfare. The growth capabilities of bacteria, and a virus's capacity to target and attack certain types of organisms. Directed viro-bacteria have even more specific instructions encoded into their RNA. More like assassins than a bomb."
"Those are not happy-fun-time instructions then," Ianto said. "Not that I imagine viruses or bacteria are capable of happy-fun-time."
Jack grinned, looking up from the discreet analysis hologram for a moment. "Right on both counts," he said.
"There's a reason you keep me around," Ianto drawled. He leaned his head on one hand and yawned.
Jack studied the numbers, chemical structures, and other inscrutable analysis-type-stuff his wrist-strap was producing. The holographic display flickered, faint from the morning light streaming in. Jack shifted uncertainly in the wide vinyl booth and looked up at Ianto again. "I like this," he said quietly.
Ianto pried his eyes open. "Analysing orange juice for biological weapons?" he mumbled.
"No, the breakfast," Jack said. "This little diner. The sun coming up over those roofs over there and the way it makes everything grey or gold. Us," he shrugged. "It's normal."
Ianto smiled, slow and sleepy. "We're here because we spent the whole night fighting a pack of demented koalas," he pointed out. "With glow-in-the-dark ears."
Jack shrugged again. "Ok, so it's not that normal," he grinned. "Still nice, though."
"It is," said Ianto. "I like it, too."
They fell into silence, letting the morning slip past them like silt in the Bay. The wrist-strap beeped.
"Aside from the normal pesticides, the orange juice is clean," Jack said with a relief. "I am definitely going to have a word with our waitress, though." He twisted around, looking very cross.
Ianto pushed the orange juice to the side, then peered around Jack's head at the booth beyond. "Before you do that," he said, "you should take a look at that woman's omelet."
Jack snapped his gaze to Ianto, who noticed (not for the first time) how ridiculously blue his eyes were. "Why?" Jack asked. "Does it look rotten, too?"
"No," said Ianto. "But it is trying to eat her baby."
Jack swore and reached for his gun. "So much for a quiet breakfast," he said.
Ianto just smiled and pulled out his phone to alert the others. "Just another occupational hazard," he replied.
.
Rating: G
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Word Count: 545
Summary: After a long night fighting aliens, Jack and Ianto just want to eat breakfast in a diner. Too bad the orange juice is suspect.
Teaser: "Those are not happy-fun-time instructions then," Ianto said. "Not that I imagine viruses or bacteria are capable of happy-fun-time."
Even Orange Juice Can Be an Occupational Hazard
Ianto peered carefully into the half-empty tumbler. "It's an occupational hazard," he said.
Jack sighed deeply and extended the control pad of his wrist-strap with a snap. Ianto had remarked the week before that Jack's strap was almost as advanced as the new iPhone, and been answered with a polite, but thin chuckle. "I know," Jack said. "I hate being so paranoid, but sometimes a rotten glass of orange juice isn't just bad service."
"Right," said Ianto. "It could be the vanguard of a pulp-based invasion force."
Jack did complicated things to his wrist-strap. "Nah," he said without looking up. "It's much more likely to be a directed viro-bacteria. They thrive on simple sugars."
"Viro-bacteria," Ianto repeated, helpfully tilting the tumbler for Jack to extract a drop of it with the handle of his spoon. "I assume that's a hybrid between a virus and a bacterium?"
"That's right," said Jack, depositing the drop of orange juice in a divot on his wrist-strap. "Mid-23rd century biological warfare. The growth capabilities of bacteria, and a virus's capacity to target and attack certain types of organisms. Directed viro-bacteria have even more specific instructions encoded into their RNA. More like assassins than a bomb."
"Those are not happy-fun-time instructions then," Ianto said. "Not that I imagine viruses or bacteria are capable of happy-fun-time."
Jack grinned, looking up from the discreet analysis hologram for a moment. "Right on both counts," he said.
"There's a reason you keep me around," Ianto drawled. He leaned his head on one hand and yawned.
Jack studied the numbers, chemical structures, and other inscrutable analysis-type-stuff his wrist-strap was producing. The holographic display flickered, faint from the morning light streaming in. Jack shifted uncertainly in the wide vinyl booth and looked up at Ianto again. "I like this," he said quietly.
Ianto pried his eyes open. "Analysing orange juice for biological weapons?" he mumbled.
"No, the breakfast," Jack said. "This little diner. The sun coming up over those roofs over there and the way it makes everything grey or gold. Us," he shrugged. "It's normal."
Ianto smiled, slow and sleepy. "We're here because we spent the whole night fighting a pack of demented koalas," he pointed out. "With glow-in-the-dark ears."
Jack shrugged again. "Ok, so it's not that normal," he grinned. "Still nice, though."
"It is," said Ianto. "I like it, too."
They fell into silence, letting the morning slip past them like silt in the Bay. The wrist-strap beeped.
"Aside from the normal pesticides, the orange juice is clean," Jack said with a relief. "I am definitely going to have a word with our waitress, though." He twisted around, looking very cross.
Ianto pushed the orange juice to the side, then peered around Jack's head at the booth beyond. "Before you do that," he said, "you should take a look at that woman's omelet."
Jack snapped his gaze to Ianto, who noticed (not for the first time) how ridiculously blue his eyes were. "Why?" Jack asked. "Does it look rotten, too?"
"No," said Ianto. "But it is trying to eat her baby."
Jack swore and reached for his gun. "So much for a quiet breakfast," he said.
Ianto just smiled and pulled out his phone to alert the others. "Just another occupational hazard," he replied.
.