The Many and Varied Escapades of One Myfanwy, Pterodactyl
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto implied, and affection from a pterodactyl.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Sarcasm and deprecation the the extreme.
Summary: After all, pets were very entertaining.
Disclaimer: I am not responsible for the creation of these characters; only for my interpretation of them, which you can totally blame me for.
A/N: pulped_fiction's It's a Gift submission. For tierfal. Will be screened entry until 23rd.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single pterodactyl in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a pet.
Myfanwy was no exception to this time-honoured absolute, and so, ever since she had flown too far from her last pet - a rather charming Blowfish by name of Alistair Grump - and ended up, well, wherever here was, she had determined to find a new creature to take care of. Myfanwy had the mothering instinct, you see, and after all, pets were very entertaining.
And so Myfanwy began a great and epic quest to find a suitable candidate for petship. Her first idea was to adopt one of the delicious meaty clouds that trotted and munched grass, but they were very slow and stupid really - after all, hadn't they realised there was no point waddling away from her when she was so clearly athletic and so clearly superior? - and, anyway, they so very truly scrumptious Myfanwy wasn't sure she'd be able to keep herself from feasting upon it. If she did that, she'd have to find another one, and that would be very tiresome indeed. She was of an impatient type, and so rejected the idea of keeping one of the baa-things as a pet, preferring instead to gobble them all up.
Then, one day, a great crunching cacophony of glossy dark vehicles came bounding eagerly over the fields that used to have the yummy baa-things in them, and the glossy dark vehicles were stuffed full of shiny equipment and those creatures Myfanwy believed were called people. The things called people all exited very hurriedly from the vehicles, marching and trampling all over her fields and pasting up reams of yellow and black security tape and generally being rather a nuisance.
When she swooped down, they all scattered like a frightened huddle of squawking birds, edging away from her as she settled herself down comfortably in the middle of the field. There, Myfanwy thought, they'll leave now.
But they didn't leave, even though it was clear they very much wanted to. One of the things called people, a blue-eyed female one with a coiffured helmet of hair and darkly reddish lipstick, whispered something urgent-sounding to the man next to her, pushing him forward.
“Go on, Ianto,” the female person-thing muttered hoarsely, and then, as though this was some pre-arranged decision, all of the other person-things clambered into the glossy dark vehicles and skedaddled as fast as they could. Myfanwy metaphorically smelt a conspiracy.
The man called Ianto looked up at Myfanwy, who did her best to appear intimidating, and Myfanwy looked down at the man called Ianto, who was doing his best to look intimidated. Still, he set his shoulders and walked forward, watched by a very stunned Myfanwy.
“I'm not going to hurt you,” he said clearly, “We're - I'm with Torchwood.”
Myfanwy didn't know who Torchwood thought they were, disturbing her like this, but she decided to see what this put-upon young man had to say for himself. Step by step, until he was close enough to bite. She decided not to. She wanted to give a good first impression, after all.
“Hello,” he murmured, all inquiring eyes and a nervously friendly smile,“And what are you doing here, then?”
He was quite lovely-looking, if one was interested in noticing that kind of thing.
Oh, yes, Myfanwy decided, with a croon of approval. This person-thing called Ianto would do nicely. He would do very nicely indeed.
*
And so Ianto came often to visit her - the dear boy! - and talked to her, and brought lots of chocolate, and he did have rather a nice voice, quite soft and lilt-y, and really, it was all going splendidly to plan until the minute he arrived. Because Myfanwy knew, even if her Ianto didn't, knew from the moment they walked in her warehouse together, because Ianto was wearing the tailored suit that flattered his colouring so well, and he never wore that for her, and his eyes couldn't stop following the dashing stranger in the billowing coat. Which would have been fine - Myfanwy forgave the odd fling, and she knew he couldn't be very serious about that Lisa girl - but from the appreciative glances Ianto-in-a-suit was getting, it seemed like the interest was reciprocated.
Well. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all.
Myfanwy would later justify the action of giving Jack the scenic view of the warehouse by claiming to herself it was an act of defence. After all, the man had been about to shove a bloody great needle into her.
Really, had he no idea how to treat his elders and betters?
Of course, she wasn't jealous, thank you very much. Perish the thought! No, that was unbecoming behaviour, and totally irrational and - she wasn't jealous, all right? But, still, her message was clear as the interest Jack seemed to have regarding Ianto-in-a-suit and possibly out of it:
We can't both have the same pet.
Just before the world had fuzzed into darkness, she had conveyed this statement by hissing and narrowing her eyes at Jack, who looked up at her and grinned far too knowingly and did he just wink? The very impudence!
...She thought the coat was stupid anyway.
*
And here she was, in this new place, and Ianto was there so it wasn't quite so bad, but. Did that man really have to be here all the time?
Well, it appeared he thought so, anyway.
The great battle of wills began.
*
At first, it was petty little things; the screeching at all hours of the night, the swiping and the dropping of the coffee mugs from overhead - such a waste of fine china, but in war, one had to made noble sacrifices to the cause - and a sheep carcass left mouldering and rotting on the office desk for him to find, what did it matter to one Captain Harkness? Jack would laugh, and Myfanwy would hiss in frustration, and Ianto - well, Ianto was the one given the ever-so-lovely task of clearing up the woolly remains.
“Really, he can be quite nice sometimes once you get to know him,” Ianto had said to her and she had flapped away to sulk, languishing sourly like some black-clad teenager with Hormonal Issues.
Oh. I'll bet he is.
She was losing. To that man. How - how humiliating.
It was time for a final attempt, a last metaphorical charge of the brigade against the waiting cannons.
And so, this was the night Myfanwy tried - and almost-very-nearly succeeded - to dessicate a coat belonging to one Captain Jack Harkness.
Jack, clutching to his mostly-intact outerwear afterwards, immediately decided placating the pterodactyl and soothing her possessive tendencies towards one Ianto Jones was his Top Priority.
After all, they didn't make clothes like that any more. Not these days.
*
“I'll take good care of him, Myfanwy, I promise,” he said, and for once, she couldn't help but believe him.
A bar of fine dark cacao sealed the deal better than a human handshake could've done, and Myfanwy tearfully relinquished her pet to the man-thing called Jack.
Still. Not quite completely.
Ianto often wondered why Jack was so, well, nice whenever Myfanwy was in the vicinity, at least towards him.
He decided sometimes there was things - like why the diva of a coffee machine would spew out mocha when suitably rattled, like what the squelchy item in the evidence bag actually was, like how Jack had learnt to do that - that he was really better off not knowing.
Although he couldn't help but notice how protective of his coat one Captain Jack Harkness was when the female pterodactyl - sorry, pteranodon - was around.
Pairing: Jack/Ianto implied, and affection from a pterodactyl.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Sarcasm and deprecation the the extreme.
Summary: After all, pets were very entertaining.
Disclaimer: I am not responsible for the creation of these characters; only for my interpretation of them, which you can totally blame me for.
A/N: pulped_fiction's It's a Gift submission. For tierfal. Will be screened entry until 23rd.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single pterodactyl in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a pet.
Myfanwy was no exception to this time-honoured absolute, and so, ever since she had flown too far from her last pet - a rather charming Blowfish by name of Alistair Grump - and ended up, well, wherever here was, she had determined to find a new creature to take care of. Myfanwy had the mothering instinct, you see, and after all, pets were very entertaining.
And so Myfanwy began a great and epic quest to find a suitable candidate for petship. Her first idea was to adopt one of the delicious meaty clouds that trotted and munched grass, but they were very slow and stupid really - after all, hadn't they realised there was no point waddling away from her when she was so clearly athletic and so clearly superior? - and, anyway, they so very truly scrumptious Myfanwy wasn't sure she'd be able to keep herself from feasting upon it. If she did that, she'd have to find another one, and that would be very tiresome indeed. She was of an impatient type, and so rejected the idea of keeping one of the baa-things as a pet, preferring instead to gobble them all up.
Then, one day, a great crunching cacophony of glossy dark vehicles came bounding eagerly over the fields that used to have the yummy baa-things in them, and the glossy dark vehicles were stuffed full of shiny equipment and those creatures Myfanwy believed were called people. The things called people all exited very hurriedly from the vehicles, marching and trampling all over her fields and pasting up reams of yellow and black security tape and generally being rather a nuisance.
When she swooped down, they all scattered like a frightened huddle of squawking birds, edging away from her as she settled herself down comfortably in the middle of the field. There, Myfanwy thought, they'll leave now.
But they didn't leave, even though it was clear they very much wanted to. One of the things called people, a blue-eyed female one with a coiffured helmet of hair and darkly reddish lipstick, whispered something urgent-sounding to the man next to her, pushing him forward.
“Go on, Ianto,” the female person-thing muttered hoarsely, and then, as though this was some pre-arranged decision, all of the other person-things clambered into the glossy dark vehicles and skedaddled as fast as they could. Myfanwy metaphorically smelt a conspiracy.
The man called Ianto looked up at Myfanwy, who did her best to appear intimidating, and Myfanwy looked down at the man called Ianto, who was doing his best to look intimidated. Still, he set his shoulders and walked forward, watched by a very stunned Myfanwy.
“I'm not going to hurt you,” he said clearly, “We're - I'm with Torchwood.”
Myfanwy didn't know who Torchwood thought they were, disturbing her like this, but she decided to see what this put-upon young man had to say for himself. Step by step, until he was close enough to bite. She decided not to. She wanted to give a good first impression, after all.
“Hello,” he murmured, all inquiring eyes and a nervously friendly smile,“And what are you doing here, then?”
He was quite lovely-looking, if one was interested in noticing that kind of thing.
Oh, yes, Myfanwy decided, with a croon of approval. This person-thing called Ianto would do nicely. He would do very nicely indeed.
*
And so Ianto came often to visit her - the dear boy! - and talked to her, and brought lots of chocolate, and he did have rather a nice voice, quite soft and lilt-y, and really, it was all going splendidly to plan until the minute he arrived. Because Myfanwy knew, even if her Ianto didn't, knew from the moment they walked in her warehouse together, because Ianto was wearing the tailored suit that flattered his colouring so well, and he never wore that for her, and his eyes couldn't stop following the dashing stranger in the billowing coat. Which would have been fine - Myfanwy forgave the odd fling, and she knew he couldn't be very serious about that Lisa girl - but from the appreciative glances Ianto-in-a-suit was getting, it seemed like the interest was reciprocated.
Well. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all.
Myfanwy would later justify the action of giving Jack the scenic view of the warehouse by claiming to herself it was an act of defence. After all, the man had been about to shove a bloody great needle into her.
Really, had he no idea how to treat his elders and betters?
Of course, she wasn't jealous, thank you very much. Perish the thought! No, that was unbecoming behaviour, and totally irrational and - she wasn't jealous, all right? But, still, her message was clear as the interest Jack seemed to have regarding Ianto-in-a-suit and possibly out of it:
We can't both have the same pet.
Just before the world had fuzzed into darkness, she had conveyed this statement by hissing and narrowing her eyes at Jack, who looked up at her and grinned far too knowingly and did he just wink? The very impudence!
...She thought the coat was stupid anyway.
*
And here she was, in this new place, and Ianto was there so it wasn't quite so bad, but. Did that man really have to be here all the time?
Well, it appeared he thought so, anyway.
The great battle of wills began.
*
At first, it was petty little things; the screeching at all hours of the night, the swiping and the dropping of the coffee mugs from overhead - such a waste of fine china, but in war, one had to made noble sacrifices to the cause - and a sheep carcass left mouldering and rotting on the office desk for him to find, what did it matter to one Captain Harkness? Jack would laugh, and Myfanwy would hiss in frustration, and Ianto - well, Ianto was the one given the ever-so-lovely task of clearing up the woolly remains.
“Really, he can be quite nice sometimes once you get to know him,” Ianto had said to her and she had flapped away to sulk, languishing sourly like some black-clad teenager with Hormonal Issues.
Oh. I'll bet he is.
She was losing. To that man. How - how humiliating.
It was time for a final attempt, a last metaphorical charge of the brigade against the waiting cannons.
And so, this was the night Myfanwy tried - and almost-very-nearly succeeded - to dessicate a coat belonging to one Captain Jack Harkness.
Jack, clutching to his mostly-intact outerwear afterwards, immediately decided placating the pterodactyl and soothing her possessive tendencies towards one Ianto Jones was his Top Priority.
After all, they didn't make clothes like that any more. Not these days.
*
“I'll take good care of him, Myfanwy, I promise,” he said, and for once, she couldn't help but believe him.
A bar of fine dark cacao sealed the deal better than a human handshake could've done, and Myfanwy tearfully relinquished her pet to the man-thing called Jack.
Still. Not quite completely.
Ianto often wondered why Jack was so, well, nice whenever Myfanwy was in the vicinity, at least towards him.
He decided sometimes there was things - like why the diva of a coffee machine would spew out mocha when suitably rattled, like what the squelchy item in the evidence bag actually was, like how Jack had learnt to do that - that he was really better off not knowing.
Although he couldn't help but notice how protective of his coat one Captain Jack Harkness was when the female pterodactyl - sorry, pteranodon - was around.