Double Drabble: Harebrained
Title: Harebrained
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 609: Ridiculous at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto has been in crazy situations before, but this is the limit.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
Working for Torchwood, dignity tended to be in short supply. Every member of the team had found themselves in a ridiculous situation more times than they cared to remember, whether from mishaps with alien tech, or trying to explain to the police that the reason they were naked in public on the coldest night off the year was because alien saliva had melted their clothes. Much of the time, they wouldn’t have been surprised to have the men in white coats show up to take them all to a nice, cosy padded room.
This, however, was the absolute limit as far as Ianto was concerned, and he vowed never to let Jack talk him into another of his harebrained schemes again.
Here he was, clinging halfway up a flagpole, with a loudly ticking clock tied to him and a butterfly net in one hand, trying to catch a sort of alien bat. The clock was supposed to attract it, and it was working after a fashion; he’d been dive-bombed by his quarry several times, but swinging the net to catch the scaly little blighter was proving difficult, to say the least.
If anyone saw him he’d never live it down.
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 609: Ridiculous at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto has been in crazy situations before, but this is the limit.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
Working for Torchwood, dignity tended to be in short supply. Every member of the team had found themselves in a ridiculous situation more times than they cared to remember, whether from mishaps with alien tech, or trying to explain to the police that the reason they were naked in public on the coldest night off the year was because alien saliva had melted their clothes. Much of the time, they wouldn’t have been surprised to have the men in white coats show up to take them all to a nice, cosy padded room.
This, however, was the absolute limit as far as Ianto was concerned, and he vowed never to let Jack talk him into another of his harebrained schemes again.
Here he was, clinging halfway up a flagpole, with a loudly ticking clock tied to him and a butterfly net in one hand, trying to catch a sort of alien bat. The clock was supposed to attract it, and it was working after a fashion; he’d been dive-bombed by his quarry several times, but swinging the net to catch the scaly little blighter was proving difficult, to say the least.
If anyone saw him he’d never live it down.
The End