Double Drabble: Unfair Distraction
Title: Unfair Distraction
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Ianto.
Rating: PG
Written For: Challenge 651: Dangle at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Jack can’t concentrate on his paperwork, and it’s all Ianto’s fault.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
Jack was frustrated. He knew he was supposed to be getting on with his paperwork, but how in the world was he supposed to concentrate on the mundanity of requisitions and expenses with such temptation dangling in front of his nose? It was impossible!
On the other hand, Ianto had made it clear that there would be no fun of any kind until he’d cleared his desk of almost three weeks’ backlog. When he’d sat down at his desk an hour ago his inbox had resembled an avalanche waiting to happen, the untidy stack of file folders it contained already leaning precariously, but so far he’d only reduced the height by about an inch. Ianto wasn’t going to be pleased with him if he didn’t make some significant progress by lunchtime. And yet…
Surely if anyone was to blame for Jack’s lack of concentration it was Ianto himself. There he was, jacket off, shirtsleeves rolled above his elbows, standing on the tall ladder replacing the burned-out fluorescent strip lights right outside Jack’s office window.
Jack defied anyone to be able to focus on a boring task with that firm behind, clad in perfectly tailored trousers, on display mere feet away.
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Ianto.
Rating: PG
Written For: Challenge 651: Dangle at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Jack can’t concentrate on his paperwork, and it’s all Ianto’s fault.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
Jack was frustrated. He knew he was supposed to be getting on with his paperwork, but how in the world was he supposed to concentrate on the mundanity of requisitions and expenses with such temptation dangling in front of his nose? It was impossible!
On the other hand, Ianto had made it clear that there would be no fun of any kind until he’d cleared his desk of almost three weeks’ backlog. When he’d sat down at his desk an hour ago his inbox had resembled an avalanche waiting to happen, the untidy stack of file folders it contained already leaning precariously, but so far he’d only reduced the height by about an inch. Ianto wasn’t going to be pleased with him if he didn’t make some significant progress by lunchtime. And yet…
Surely if anyone was to blame for Jack’s lack of concentration it was Ianto himself. There he was, jacket off, shirtsleeves rolled above his elbows, standing on the tall ladder replacing the burned-out fluorescent strip lights right outside Jack’s office window.
Jack defied anyone to be able to focus on a boring task with that firm behind, clad in perfectly tailored trousers, on display mere feet away.
The End