Fic: Overattentive
Title: Overattentive
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto is injured, and Jack keeps trying to make him rest.
Word Count: 1147
Written For: Prompt 220: Coddle at anythingdrabble, but it got a bit too long for the challenge.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
“Cut it out, Jack!” Ianto grumbled as his lover fussed around him. “I don’t need you coddling me!”
“It’s not coddling; I don’t coddle. I’m looking after you. It’s not like you can look after yourself very well at the moment.”
Part of Ianto wanted to snap, “And whose fault is that?” but Jack wasn’t really to blame. Ianto was injured because working for Torchwood could be hazardous to anyone’s health. If anybody was to blame in this particular instance, it was the alien that had landed on him, or possibly Ianto himself for not getting out of the way fast enough, although even for an experienced Torchwood agent, it was a bit difficult to anticipate the unexpected. The human race had yet to develop reliable precognition.
Yes, Jack and the rest of the team, Ianto included, had been shooting at Cardiff’s latest uninvited guest, but that had been because it had shot at them first, making their retaliation totally justified. Killing it had absolutely been intentional, the alien had just been a bit uncooperative when it came to the part where it died.
According to Jack, it was a Vigorran, a member of an extremely warlike race that, having killed off every other species on their own planet, had developed spacefaring technology solely to find more things to kill. Taking it captive hadn’t been an option, but for most of the battle, shooting it didn’t seem to be having much effect, until a bullet must have made it through the thick hide and hit something important. The Vigorran had immediately tried to take flight, perhaps attempting to escape, flapped its wing membranes twice, got about three metres off the ground, and promptly dropped dead in mid-air. Ianto had unfortunately been standing right where it fell.
So, now he had four cracked ribs, a broken collarbone, a mild concussion, a black eye that was almost swollen shut, and severe bruising to various parts of his body. Vigorrans, it turned out, were heavier than they looked. Oh, and he’d broken two fingers because he’d still been holding his gun when he was flattened. The experience hadn’t been at all like the time Jack had fallen on him from a height. That had been entirely more pleasurable, and Jack had smelled considerably better than a dead alien whose personal hygiene hadn’t been particularly good when it had been alive.
Once Ianto had been extracted from beneath the alien and taken back to the Hub, Owen had patched him up, all the time joking about him being a one-armed bandit, something the medic found a great deal more amusing than Ianto did. Now, having been certified capable of light duties, Ianto was attempting to get back to work, except that Jack wouldn’t let him.
The painkillers were working, Ianto didn’t feel dizzy or sleepy, his vision, from the one eye that still worked properly, was in the singular, no blurring or other distortions, and no trace of double vision. He felt fine, if a bit stiff, and due to the bruising, he was more comfortable standing than he was sitting or lying down. He could still manage to carry out a lot of his regular tasks perfectly well, even if he had to do them left-handed because his right arm was out of action, but Jack kept trying to insist that he rest, and was constantly trying to wrap a fluffy blanket around him. It was annoying.
“I don’t need a blanket, Jack, and I don’t want one! I’m not cold, and it’ll just get in my way! You wouldn’t want me tripping over the end of it, would you?”
“Of course not, but you’re injured!”
“I’ve been injured before, and I’ll probably get injured again at some point; that’s the nature of this job. It’s not even serious, not by Torchwood standards, mostly just bruises and a few cracked bones. I can still make coffee and tea, order lunch, and do the filing and any other paperwork. I might be a bit slow, but I’ll get there.”
“You shouldn’t have to work when you’re hurt though! You should take a few days off at least, go home, put your feet up and relax!”
Ianto rolled his good eye and winced. Rolling one eye independently of the other, as it turned out, was not physically possible, and the swollen one registered a mild protest.
“And do what, be bored to tears watching rubbish daytime TV and with no one to talk to? Besides, why do I need to put my feet up when they’re about the only part of me that didn’t suffer any damage? I hate being at home alone, you know that. Or are you punishing me for not taking evasive action fast enough?”
“What? No, whyever would you think that? I just don’t want you to make your injuries any worse.”
“I’m a big boy, Jack…”
“Yes you are!” Jack cut in, leering appreciatively.
“Not what I was talking about. I meant I’m old enough that I can be trusted not to overdo things. Owen says I’m fine to work as long as I’m careful and listen to my body. If I get tired I’ll rest, but I’m not going to just sit around doing nothing when there are plenty of things I’m still able to do around here.”
“I just want to take care of you.” Jack pouted unhappily. “It’s my fault you got hurt! I shouldn’t have let the Vigorran get off the ground, should have shot holes in its wing membranes as soon as it spread them!” He looked sheepish. “I forgot they can fly.”
Ianto sighed. “Jack, you can’t remember everything about every alien race you’ve ever met or heard about in passing.”
“You would have.”
“Just because I have an eidetic memory doesn’t mean I can access whatever I want instantaneously. I still have to find where I filed the relevant information in my head. Now, if you want to help me, you can hand out the drinks after I make them, okay? And then I’ll sit in your office and do some work on my laptop. I can type well enough one-handed.”
Sighing, Jack gave in to the inevitable. “Fine, but…” He trailed off.
“But?” Ianto prompted.
“Can I coddle you tonight after we go home?”
“I thought you said you don’t coddle.”
“Um… Well, okay, maybe I do, but only because I care. I could help you take a bath to soothe your aches, then get you changed into something comfy. I’ll even make dinner and clean up afterwards.”
Ianto sighed. “Well, alright, I suppose that could be arranged.”
“Thank you!” Jack gave Ianto a very careful kiss. “I’ll take really good care of you tonight.”
“I’m sure you will.” Ianto resisted the temptation to try rolling his eyes again.
The things he had to do to keep Jack happy!
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto is injured, and Jack keeps trying to make him rest.
Word Count: 1147
Written For: Prompt 220: Coddle at anythingdrabble, but it got a bit too long for the challenge.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
“Cut it out, Jack!” Ianto grumbled as his lover fussed around him. “I don’t need you coddling me!”
“It’s not coddling; I don’t coddle. I’m looking after you. It’s not like you can look after yourself very well at the moment.”
Part of Ianto wanted to snap, “And whose fault is that?” but Jack wasn’t really to blame. Ianto was injured because working for Torchwood could be hazardous to anyone’s health. If anybody was to blame in this particular instance, it was the alien that had landed on him, or possibly Ianto himself for not getting out of the way fast enough, although even for an experienced Torchwood agent, it was a bit difficult to anticipate the unexpected. The human race had yet to develop reliable precognition.
Yes, Jack and the rest of the team, Ianto included, had been shooting at Cardiff’s latest uninvited guest, but that had been because it had shot at them first, making their retaliation totally justified. Killing it had absolutely been intentional, the alien had just been a bit uncooperative when it came to the part where it died.
According to Jack, it was a Vigorran, a member of an extremely warlike race that, having killed off every other species on their own planet, had developed spacefaring technology solely to find more things to kill. Taking it captive hadn’t been an option, but for most of the battle, shooting it didn’t seem to be having much effect, until a bullet must have made it through the thick hide and hit something important. The Vigorran had immediately tried to take flight, perhaps attempting to escape, flapped its wing membranes twice, got about three metres off the ground, and promptly dropped dead in mid-air. Ianto had unfortunately been standing right where it fell.
So, now he had four cracked ribs, a broken collarbone, a mild concussion, a black eye that was almost swollen shut, and severe bruising to various parts of his body. Vigorrans, it turned out, were heavier than they looked. Oh, and he’d broken two fingers because he’d still been holding his gun when he was flattened. The experience hadn’t been at all like the time Jack had fallen on him from a height. That had been entirely more pleasurable, and Jack had smelled considerably better than a dead alien whose personal hygiene hadn’t been particularly good when it had been alive.
Once Ianto had been extracted from beneath the alien and taken back to the Hub, Owen had patched him up, all the time joking about him being a one-armed bandit, something the medic found a great deal more amusing than Ianto did. Now, having been certified capable of light duties, Ianto was attempting to get back to work, except that Jack wouldn’t let him.
The painkillers were working, Ianto didn’t feel dizzy or sleepy, his vision, from the one eye that still worked properly, was in the singular, no blurring or other distortions, and no trace of double vision. He felt fine, if a bit stiff, and due to the bruising, he was more comfortable standing than he was sitting or lying down. He could still manage to carry out a lot of his regular tasks perfectly well, even if he had to do them left-handed because his right arm was out of action, but Jack kept trying to insist that he rest, and was constantly trying to wrap a fluffy blanket around him. It was annoying.
“I don’t need a blanket, Jack, and I don’t want one! I’m not cold, and it’ll just get in my way! You wouldn’t want me tripping over the end of it, would you?”
“Of course not, but you’re injured!”
“I’ve been injured before, and I’ll probably get injured again at some point; that’s the nature of this job. It’s not even serious, not by Torchwood standards, mostly just bruises and a few cracked bones. I can still make coffee and tea, order lunch, and do the filing and any other paperwork. I might be a bit slow, but I’ll get there.”
“You shouldn’t have to work when you’re hurt though! You should take a few days off at least, go home, put your feet up and relax!”
Ianto rolled his good eye and winced. Rolling one eye independently of the other, as it turned out, was not physically possible, and the swollen one registered a mild protest.
“And do what, be bored to tears watching rubbish daytime TV and with no one to talk to? Besides, why do I need to put my feet up when they’re about the only part of me that didn’t suffer any damage? I hate being at home alone, you know that. Or are you punishing me for not taking evasive action fast enough?”
“What? No, whyever would you think that? I just don’t want you to make your injuries any worse.”
“I’m a big boy, Jack…”
“Yes you are!” Jack cut in, leering appreciatively.
“Not what I was talking about. I meant I’m old enough that I can be trusted not to overdo things. Owen says I’m fine to work as long as I’m careful and listen to my body. If I get tired I’ll rest, but I’m not going to just sit around doing nothing when there are plenty of things I’m still able to do around here.”
“I just want to take care of you.” Jack pouted unhappily. “It’s my fault you got hurt! I shouldn’t have let the Vigorran get off the ground, should have shot holes in its wing membranes as soon as it spread them!” He looked sheepish. “I forgot they can fly.”
Ianto sighed. “Jack, you can’t remember everything about every alien race you’ve ever met or heard about in passing.”
“You would have.”
“Just because I have an eidetic memory doesn’t mean I can access whatever I want instantaneously. I still have to find where I filed the relevant information in my head. Now, if you want to help me, you can hand out the drinks after I make them, okay? And then I’ll sit in your office and do some work on my laptop. I can type well enough one-handed.”
Sighing, Jack gave in to the inevitable. “Fine, but…” He trailed off.
“But?” Ianto prompted.
“Can I coddle you tonight after we go home?”
“I thought you said you don’t coddle.”
“Um… Well, okay, maybe I do, but only because I care. I could help you take a bath to soothe your aches, then get you changed into something comfy. I’ll even make dinner and clean up afterwards.”
Ianto sighed. “Well, alright, I suppose that could be arranged.”
“Thank you!” Jack gave Ianto a very careful kiss. “I’ll take really good care of you tonight.”
“I’m sure you will.” Ianto resisted the temptation to try rolling his eyes again.
The things he had to do to keep Jack happy!
The End