Fic: Biology Lessons, Jack/Ianto, PG-13
Title: Biology Lessons
Author: Corona
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Warnings: Death, zombies, shouting, crack...
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: Ianto dies, only he doesn't, Jack's amused, Owen's confused.
"Ianto is technically dead, he fulfils all the requirements needed to be put in the category 'dead.' He has no heartbeat, no brain activity and he hasn't breathed for-" Owen checks his watch. "Four hours and sixteen minutes."
"I'm fairly sure there is some brain activity." Ianto feels compelled to say. Owen points a finger at him.
"You, you're dead, shut up!" Ianto pulls in a breath so he can sigh, and it's surprisingly hard work now his body is dead.
Jack gives him a look, which seems to be an admonition for flaunting his deadness in Owen's direction. And only Jack could ever make Ianto think the words 'flaunting his deadness.'
"This isn't medically possibly, I'm not sure it's even physically possible."
Owen is clearly having trouble with the concept. There's a note of petulance, almost as if Ianto is cheating and breaking the laws of physics just to annoy Owen.
Which might actually explain the-
"Did you have to put me in a shroud?" Ianto protests.
"It's procedure," Owen says testily, he's fiddling with something that looks, for all the world, like it requires lubrication, and there is no way in hell. "We have to follow procedure." Owen says in a voice that's verging on hysterical. He shakes the thing at him.
It is in no way going to used to investigate parts of his anatomy. Dead or not it's still his, and he's still in the sort of state when he can object to it, loudly and painfully if necessary. He might even bite.
Which, of course, immediately raises some very disturbing parallels with the 'Dawn Of The Dead' films which he isn't going to think about.
But Owen is apparently not about to risk life and limb, because he puts the disturbing implement down and starts doing something medical to Ianto's wrist, though it's already been established that he doesn't have a pulse...sixteen times.
"You may be a zombie but you're still hot," Jack tells him. "Better than hot. Now you have a cold sense of dignity about you, on you it kind of works." Ianto will not smile because it's in no way appropriate to smile when your boss tells you that dead suits you.
"I am not a zombie." Ianto says tartly instead, and Jack's laughing, which makes everything slightly less inappropriate though Ianto doesn't have a clue how exactly.
Owen clears his throat, dragging both Jack and Ianto's attention away from his possible Zombification.
"What?" Ianto is not exactly sure how medical experiments are going to be any help at the moment. They're all agreeing with the fact that he's dead but not much else.
But Owen isn't brandishing more medical results he's staring at Ianto's hand.
Which now has a scalpel in it.
There is a scalpel in his hand; no, not in, all the way through. Owen has put a scalpel all the way through Ianto's hand.
"Owen!" Jack sounds cross at least, which is reassuring, Owen looks vindicated. "Just because he's a zombie doesn't give you the right to stick things in him."
"It should, at the very least, dissuade you from sticking things in him." Owen snaps, then scowls at Ianto as if it might be his fault.
"I can't really feel it." Ianto admits, he wriggles his fingers, which makes the scalpel jiggle in inappropriately amusing ways.
"That's because you're dead, all your nerves are dead, you're not even bleeding."
"However I am noting that I have a hole in my hand," Ianto says calmly. Which has a scalpel through it, which probably isn't very hygienic. He grasps the handle and very carefully eases it free. It makes no noise, and he can't really feel it. He knows it's happening in an almost entirely observational way.
Being dead is...rather dull as new experiences go.
Owen watches the scalpel removal with a sort of horrified fascination. As if stabbing co-workers to see if they notice is not GOING TO GET HIM FIRED!
"Owen!" Jack's voice is a sharp flare of sound and anger.
"He's not bleeding, he didn't even notice!" Owen is practicing his unattractive high pitched shouty voice, but Jack is doing far better with a facial expression and a pose that conveys how very not amused he is.
"That's not the point, Owen."
"....a hole in my hand." Ianto finishes
A hole in his hand that remains. He shakes it just to make sure.
Jack picks it up and looks at it...no looks through it.
"Please don't do that," Ianto tells him because really there are some things that are still too disturbing even for him, and he's dead.
"A permanent hole in my hand, thank you very much Owen." Jack still looks upset that he hasn't developed any super regeneration powers to go with his deadness. Ianto rather thinks that sometimes Jack's enthusiasm overrides his common sense.
Jack has stopped trying to see through the hole in his hand though and is now, poking him.
"Jack please stop testing my skin." Jack obediently stops, though he looks like he's going to start doing it again the minute Ianto isn't looking.
Ianto thinks he should probably be panicking just a little bit, but for the life of him he can't drum up the enthusiasm.
"And can we please not use the word 'zombie' when referring to me?" Ianto asks them both, but they're too busy glaring at each other and having an argument about medical malpractice.
"It's not," Owen says fiercely. "Technically he's dead, I could use him for medical science if I wanted to."
"Technically I'm now allowed to eat your brain...watch me manfully resisting that urge." Ianto says flatly.
Owen briefly looks absolutely terrified.
"Do you really have an urge to eat his brain?" It takes Ianto a long second to realise that Jack is absolutely serious.
"What? No?! Christ Jack I'm not actually a zombie."
Jack's mouth shifts into something almost sympathetic, which is...infuriating.
"I hate you both," Ianto says loudly and clearly, and leaves medical.
"Dead people aren't allowed to leave storage..." Owen is whining plaintively behind him.
***
"I'm sorry I called you a zombie," Jack leans on the counter next to Ianto.
"Gwen won't let me make her coffee, and Tosh won't come out of the toilet." Ianto says simply.
The coffee machine is looking sad and forlorn.
"You can make me coffee if you like," he offers in a sort of show of solidarity that would be a lot more encouraging if he was dead too, if he was dead and stayed dead, not just temporarily dead, which was his usual theme.
"I don't think I'm in the mood now," Ianto says, and he's perfectly aware he sounds petulant.
Jack slides an arm round his waist, curls it and uses it to tug him closer.
There's a press of mouth against the edge of his jaw, soft and hot and it lingers. Jack lets his head rest against his cheekbone afterwards.
"Give them an hour, they'll be hungry and they'll want to know where all the paperwork is. My employees are fickle."
"You're taking this surprisingly well." Ianto says, and it's an accusation, one that can't help but hold just the slightest tinge of annoyance.
"So are you, but I have more excuses, I think you're just...mentally flexible."
"How do you make absolutely everything sound filthy?" He asks and Jack laughs.
There's another brush of skin, and Jack's mouth is far hotter than it should be.
"You're all...chilly." It's amazing that Jack manages to make that sound anything but disturbing.
"And you probably shouldn't be finding that half as interesting as you seem to be."
"I'm very flexible," Jack says with a grin.
"You're not flexible you're broken," Ianto manages before Jack kisses him again, and it should be at least a little strange, but Jack is like a furnace and he's having trouble protesting. He's having trouble doing much of anything but sliding cold hands up the sides of Jack's face and tilting him far enough that he can get inside, and he's so incredibly indecently warm inside.
Hot blasts of air curl over his own nose, and it occurs to him in an entirely distant way that he no longer needs to breathe.
Ianto pretends he won't use this pieces of information for anything remotely nefarious.
When Jack pulls away he's sufficiently dishevelled to make Ianto feel even more smug.
"Do you think you'll develop freakish undead strength?" Jack asks, he seems far too attached to the concept.
"I didn't develop freakish regenerative powers," Ianto reminds him.
"That's actually more of a vampire thing I think."
There's a short moment of companionable quiet, before Jack makes his second suggestion.
"Zombie sex?"
Ianto doesn't bother resisting the urge to punch him in the arm.
Jack winces. "That would be a 'yes' on freakish undead strength then."
Author: Corona
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Warnings: Death, zombies, shouting, crack...
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: Ianto dies, only he doesn't, Jack's amused, Owen's confused.
"Ianto is technically dead, he fulfils all the requirements needed to be put in the category 'dead.' He has no heartbeat, no brain activity and he hasn't breathed for-" Owen checks his watch. "Four hours and sixteen minutes."
"I'm fairly sure there is some brain activity." Ianto feels compelled to say. Owen points a finger at him.
"You, you're dead, shut up!" Ianto pulls in a breath so he can sigh, and it's surprisingly hard work now his body is dead.
Jack gives him a look, which seems to be an admonition for flaunting his deadness in Owen's direction. And only Jack could ever make Ianto think the words 'flaunting his deadness.'
"This isn't medically possibly, I'm not sure it's even physically possible."
Owen is clearly having trouble with the concept. There's a note of petulance, almost as if Ianto is cheating and breaking the laws of physics just to annoy Owen.
Which might actually explain the-
"Did you have to put me in a shroud?" Ianto protests.
"It's procedure," Owen says testily, he's fiddling with something that looks, for all the world, like it requires lubrication, and there is no way in hell. "We have to follow procedure." Owen says in a voice that's verging on hysterical. He shakes the thing at him.
It is in no way going to used to investigate parts of his anatomy. Dead or not it's still his, and he's still in the sort of state when he can object to it, loudly and painfully if necessary. He might even bite.
Which, of course, immediately raises some very disturbing parallels with the 'Dawn Of The Dead' films which he isn't going to think about.
But Owen is apparently not about to risk life and limb, because he puts the disturbing implement down and starts doing something medical to Ianto's wrist, though it's already been established that he doesn't have a pulse...sixteen times.
"You may be a zombie but you're still hot," Jack tells him. "Better than hot. Now you have a cold sense of dignity about you, on you it kind of works." Ianto will not smile because it's in no way appropriate to smile when your boss tells you that dead suits you.
"I am not a zombie." Ianto says tartly instead, and Jack's laughing, which makes everything slightly less inappropriate though Ianto doesn't have a clue how exactly.
Owen clears his throat, dragging both Jack and Ianto's attention away from his possible Zombification.
"What?" Ianto is not exactly sure how medical experiments are going to be any help at the moment. They're all agreeing with the fact that he's dead but not much else.
But Owen isn't brandishing more medical results he's staring at Ianto's hand.
Which now has a scalpel in it.
There is a scalpel in his hand; no, not in, all the way through. Owen has put a scalpel all the way through Ianto's hand.
"Owen!" Jack sounds cross at least, which is reassuring, Owen looks vindicated. "Just because he's a zombie doesn't give you the right to stick things in him."
"It should, at the very least, dissuade you from sticking things in him." Owen snaps, then scowls at Ianto as if it might be his fault.
"I can't really feel it." Ianto admits, he wriggles his fingers, which makes the scalpel jiggle in inappropriately amusing ways.
"That's because you're dead, all your nerves are dead, you're not even bleeding."
"However I am noting that I have a hole in my hand," Ianto says calmly. Which has a scalpel through it, which probably isn't very hygienic. He grasps the handle and very carefully eases it free. It makes no noise, and he can't really feel it. He knows it's happening in an almost entirely observational way.
Being dead is...rather dull as new experiences go.
Owen watches the scalpel removal with a sort of horrified fascination. As if stabbing co-workers to see if they notice is not GOING TO GET HIM FIRED!
"Owen!" Jack's voice is a sharp flare of sound and anger.
"He's not bleeding, he didn't even notice!" Owen is practicing his unattractive high pitched shouty voice, but Jack is doing far better with a facial expression and a pose that conveys how very not amused he is.
"That's not the point, Owen."
"....a hole in my hand." Ianto finishes
A hole in his hand that remains. He shakes it just to make sure.
Jack picks it up and looks at it...no looks through it.
"Please don't do that," Ianto tells him because really there are some things that are still too disturbing even for him, and he's dead.
"A permanent hole in my hand, thank you very much Owen." Jack still looks upset that he hasn't developed any super regeneration powers to go with his deadness. Ianto rather thinks that sometimes Jack's enthusiasm overrides his common sense.
Jack has stopped trying to see through the hole in his hand though and is now, poking him.
"Jack please stop testing my skin." Jack obediently stops, though he looks like he's going to start doing it again the minute Ianto isn't looking.
Ianto thinks he should probably be panicking just a little bit, but for the life of him he can't drum up the enthusiasm.
"And can we please not use the word 'zombie' when referring to me?" Ianto asks them both, but they're too busy glaring at each other and having an argument about medical malpractice.
"It's not," Owen says fiercely. "Technically he's dead, I could use him for medical science if I wanted to."
"Technically I'm now allowed to eat your brain...watch me manfully resisting that urge." Ianto says flatly.
Owen briefly looks absolutely terrified.
"Do you really have an urge to eat his brain?" It takes Ianto a long second to realise that Jack is absolutely serious.
"What? No?! Christ Jack I'm not actually a zombie."
Jack's mouth shifts into something almost sympathetic, which is...infuriating.
"I hate you both," Ianto says loudly and clearly, and leaves medical.
"Dead people aren't allowed to leave storage..." Owen is whining plaintively behind him.
***
"I'm sorry I called you a zombie," Jack leans on the counter next to Ianto.
"Gwen won't let me make her coffee, and Tosh won't come out of the toilet." Ianto says simply.
The coffee machine is looking sad and forlorn.
"You can make me coffee if you like," he offers in a sort of show of solidarity that would be a lot more encouraging if he was dead too, if he was dead and stayed dead, not just temporarily dead, which was his usual theme.
"I don't think I'm in the mood now," Ianto says, and he's perfectly aware he sounds petulant.
Jack slides an arm round his waist, curls it and uses it to tug him closer.
There's a press of mouth against the edge of his jaw, soft and hot and it lingers. Jack lets his head rest against his cheekbone afterwards.
"Give them an hour, they'll be hungry and they'll want to know where all the paperwork is. My employees are fickle."
"You're taking this surprisingly well." Ianto says, and it's an accusation, one that can't help but hold just the slightest tinge of annoyance.
"So are you, but I have more excuses, I think you're just...mentally flexible."
"How do you make absolutely everything sound filthy?" He asks and Jack laughs.
There's another brush of skin, and Jack's mouth is far hotter than it should be.
"You're all...chilly." It's amazing that Jack manages to make that sound anything but disturbing.
"And you probably shouldn't be finding that half as interesting as you seem to be."
"I'm very flexible," Jack says with a grin.
"You're not flexible you're broken," Ianto manages before Jack kisses him again, and it should be at least a little strange, but Jack is like a furnace and he's having trouble protesting. He's having trouble doing much of anything but sliding cold hands up the sides of Jack's face and tilting him far enough that he can get inside, and he's so incredibly indecently warm inside.
Hot blasts of air curl over his own nose, and it occurs to him in an entirely distant way that he no longer needs to breathe.
Ianto pretends he won't use this pieces of information for anything remotely nefarious.
When Jack pulls away he's sufficiently dishevelled to make Ianto feel even more smug.
"Do you think you'll develop freakish undead strength?" Jack asks, he seems far too attached to the concept.
"I didn't develop freakish regenerative powers," Ianto reminds him.
"That's actually more of a vampire thing I think."
There's a short moment of companionable quiet, before Jack makes his second suggestion.
"Zombie sex?"
Ianto doesn't bother resisting the urge to punch him in the arm.
Jack winces. "That would be a 'yes' on freakish undead strength then."