Double Drabble: Unwise
Title: Unwise
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Team.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 644: Command at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto is off work, so who’s taking care of the Hub?
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“Jack?” Ianto blinked bleary eyes, wondering if he was imagining things. Jack couldn’t possibly be here. Torchwood was short-handed what with Owen being technically dead and therefore not in any condition to lead the team in the field, while Tosh was currently hampered by a sprained ankle.
Ianto himself had fully intended to keep working, despite Owen’s considered opinion that he had a bad case of the flu and should not be in the Hub where he could infect the rest of the team. The bad-tempered undead medic had driven him home and ordered him to bed, and despite his misgivings at leaving his teammates to fend for themselves until he recovered, Ianto had to admit that it was a relief not having to struggle through his daily tasks on wobbly legs while trying to make up his mind whether he was too hot or too cold.
“Hey. How’re you feeling?”
It was a stupid question so Ianto ignored it. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to look after you, of course.”
“But you can’t! Who’s going to take care of things at the Hub?”
“I left Gwen in command.”
“Oh God, just kill me now!” Torchwood was doomed.
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Team.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 644: Command at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto is off work, so who’s taking care of the Hub?
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“Jack?” Ianto blinked bleary eyes, wondering if he was imagining things. Jack couldn’t possibly be here. Torchwood was short-handed what with Owen being technically dead and therefore not in any condition to lead the team in the field, while Tosh was currently hampered by a sprained ankle.
Ianto himself had fully intended to keep working, despite Owen’s considered opinion that he had a bad case of the flu and should not be in the Hub where he could infect the rest of the team. The bad-tempered undead medic had driven him home and ordered him to bed, and despite his misgivings at leaving his teammates to fend for themselves until he recovered, Ianto had to admit that it was a relief not having to struggle through his daily tasks on wobbly legs while trying to make up his mind whether he was too hot or too cold.
“Hey. How’re you feeling?”
It was a stupid question so Ianto ignored it. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to look after you, of course.”
“But you can’t! Who’s going to take care of things at the Hub?”
“I left Gwen in command.”
“Oh God, just kill me now!” Torchwood was doomed.
The End