TW: Spag Bol [K+]
Fandom:
Torchwood
Title:
Spag Bol
In which Ianto muses over something.
Author:
lt_indigo
Pairing(s):
Janto if you squint a bit
Warning(s):
none.
Disclamer:
Never mine. Sigh.
Word count:
410
For some reason, everyone assumed Ianto could cook. He had thought long and hard about this, and the only thing that possibly explained it was that he fed the team and cleaned up after them, just like their mothers would have done, once upon a time. And, of course, mothers like that cooked. Ianto could pick up a phone and order takeaway. He kicked arse at that, but it wasn’t cooking.
Ianto liked the idea of cooking; he was just no good at it. His own mother had been the ‘Findus Crispy Pancakes and potato smiles’ type, so he had never learned. He had tried at uni, God knew he had tried, but spag bol was his limit. He was the guy who had famously burned potatoes and exploded a boiled egg. He had set the fire alarm off by putting a pizza directly on the bottom shelf of the oven during a party (Lisa had told him not to, but he hadn’t listened). Oh yes, he had been that guy in halls. He had ended up living off beans on toast or super noodles, and his flatmates had insisted on supervising him whenever he heated anything. He hadn’t taken it to heart - it was a sensible precaution.
Eventually, Lisa had painstakingly gotten him proficient at cooking pasta before branching out into the scary world of things to go with it. The first time he made it on his own, she wrote out the recipe and instructions, taped it to the wall beside the hob and left the flat to pop to the library for a book she needed for her dissertation. He had smiled when he reached instruction number three: “DO NOT WALK AWAY AND “JUST TAKE A QUICK LOOK” AT YOUR DIS’.
She had been pleased with the result when she returned to not only find the flat still standing, but an apparently-domesticated boyfriend dishing up two perfect plates of spaghetti bolognaise and the kitchen spotless.
Ianto still had Lisa’s recipe - it was one of the few things he had brought with him from their London flat. He knew it by heart, of course, but he still liked to get it out whenever he cooked for Jack. It had gotten a little splattered with tomato stains over the years, but he wasn’t going to let it go: it was a reminder of the good times he and Lisa had shared, and the third line always made him smile.