6. Little old ladies beware projectiles on the Plass
This is Owen's List.
[
26. The Plass
7. Kissing
15. Discarded clothing (lower body)
]
6.
Ianto picks his way across the Plass, eyes intent on the ground before him, because broken glass ground into a heel? Definitely something to be avoided.
He has his sopping wet shoes in one hand, socks tucked under the tongue, and he’s holding them out to the side, he doesn’t need to destroy his jacket as well.
Somewhere off behind him, Jack is whooping, running this way and that, happily splashing through any puddles he encounters, and if he comes any closer, Ianto is going to kill him.
This is all Jack’s fault. Everything is always Jack’s fault. Even when he’s miles away, doing who knows what, it’s his fault.
One of these days, death is going to stick and Ianto will laugh, damnit.
He’s caught off guard when Jack grabs his hand, swinging him around, but not for long; liberating his hand, Ianto chucks a shoe at his boss, watching it thump into Jack’s back with a satisfying thunk.
It then proceeds to roll into the gutter, but Ianto doesn’t care; Jack suffering is worth the trouble of getting new shoes, and Torchwood will be paying for them in any case.
The leaping and singing stops abruptly, Ianto is happy to note, but Jack is in his face before he has time to appreciate it.
“Don’t pout,” Ianto says, “it’s your own fault.”
“That you can’t keep a hold of your shoes?”
“That your actions force me to resort to extraordinary measures.”
“So that’s what they’re calling assault these days,” Jack says, “you know I’m duty-bound to report any harassment to Torchwood One.”
Ianto stops dead, staring at him. “If you had any idea how ridiculous you sound right now,” he says, shaking his head.
“That hurt,” Jack says petulantly, “and it wasn’t very nice either.”
“No,” Ianto says, “you pushing me into the swamp wasn’t nice. This was necessary.”
“I fail to see how being cheerful is a punishable offense.”
“You,” Ianto says, “would be surprised.”
“Oh come on, lighten up,” Jack says, taking Ianto’s other shoe from him and flinging it over his shoulder. Ianto really hopes that muffled shriek was unrelated, because they have a bad enough reputation without launching dangerous projectiles at little old ladies.
Jack grabs Ianto’s hands and spreads them with his own, bringing them nose-to-nose.
“You had fun,” Jack says, “admit it.”
Ianto sniffs, “chasing peaceful aliens into a swamp is not my idea of a good time.”
“Hey, from a distance they look a lot like Chula, and they are definitely not cute and cuddly.”
“Hmph,” Ianto says, and turns his head away.
“Whine, whine, whine,” Jack says, “so predictable.”
“Ex-cuse m-” Ianto’s protests are cut short when Jack takes this opportunity to kiss him, coaxing his lips apart with a very persuasive tongue.
Ianto narrows his eyes, and bites down, hard.
“Agh,” Jack says, and Ianto smiles, sweetly.
See the Master List or return to jackxianto.
[
26. The Plass
7. Kissing
15. Discarded clothing (lower body)
]
6.
Ianto picks his way across the Plass, eyes intent on the ground before him, because broken glass ground into a heel? Definitely something to be avoided.
He has his sopping wet shoes in one hand, socks tucked under the tongue, and he’s holding them out to the side, he doesn’t need to destroy his jacket as well.
Somewhere off behind him, Jack is whooping, running this way and that, happily splashing through any puddles he encounters, and if he comes any closer, Ianto is going to kill him.
This is all Jack’s fault. Everything is always Jack’s fault. Even when he’s miles away, doing who knows what, it’s his fault.
One of these days, death is going to stick and Ianto will laugh, damnit.
He’s caught off guard when Jack grabs his hand, swinging him around, but not for long; liberating his hand, Ianto chucks a shoe at his boss, watching it thump into Jack’s back with a satisfying thunk.
It then proceeds to roll into the gutter, but Ianto doesn’t care; Jack suffering is worth the trouble of getting new shoes, and Torchwood will be paying for them in any case.
The leaping and singing stops abruptly, Ianto is happy to note, but Jack is in his face before he has time to appreciate it.
“Don’t pout,” Ianto says, “it’s your own fault.”
“That you can’t keep a hold of your shoes?”
“That your actions force me to resort to extraordinary measures.”
“So that’s what they’re calling assault these days,” Jack says, “you know I’m duty-bound to report any harassment to Torchwood One.”
Ianto stops dead, staring at him. “If you had any idea how ridiculous you sound right now,” he says, shaking his head.
“That hurt,” Jack says petulantly, “and it wasn’t very nice either.”
“No,” Ianto says, “you pushing me into the swamp wasn’t nice. This was necessary.”
“I fail to see how being cheerful is a punishable offense.”
“You,” Ianto says, “would be surprised.”
“Oh come on, lighten up,” Jack says, taking Ianto’s other shoe from him and flinging it over his shoulder. Ianto really hopes that muffled shriek was unrelated, because they have a bad enough reputation without launching dangerous projectiles at little old ladies.
Jack grabs Ianto’s hands and spreads them with his own, bringing them nose-to-nose.
“You had fun,” Jack says, “admit it.”
Ianto sniffs, “chasing peaceful aliens into a swamp is not my idea of a good time.”
“Hey, from a distance they look a lot like Chula, and they are definitely not cute and cuddly.”
“Hmph,” Ianto says, and turns his head away.
“Whine, whine, whine,” Jack says, “so predictable.”
“Ex-cuse m-” Ianto’s protests are cut short when Jack takes this opportunity to kiss him, coaxing his lips apart with a very persuasive tongue.
Ianto narrows his eyes, and bites down, hard.
“Agh,” Jack says, and Ianto smiles, sweetly.
See the Master List or return to jackxianto.