Ficlet: Homeward Wending
Title: Homeward Wending
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Ianto.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 774
Summary: Gwen’s wedding is over, and after dealing with the cleanup, Jack and Ianto are at last heading back to Cardiff.
Spoilers: Something Borrowed.
Written For: creepy_shetan’s prompt ‘author's choice, any, the car ride home after [any canon social event],’ at comment_fic.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood or any of the characters.
“Well,” Jack said cheerfully as he steered the SUV along narrow, winding, unlit country lanes, following the twin beams from the headlights. “That went better than expected, don’t you think?”
Beside him, sprawled wearily in the passenger seat, Ianto cracked open one eye. “Then your expectations must have been remarkably low. We had to retcon the guests and delete all the photos they took. It’s a good thing Tosh can edit the professional photos, or Gwen and Rhys would be left with nothing to remember their wedding.”
“Ah, but they’re married, the Nostrovite is history, Rhys got to look like a hero, and no one died! As far as I’m concerned, that makes this the most successful Torchwood wedding in the last fifty years!”
“No one died?” Ianto snorted. “Aren’t you forgetting Rhys’s friend, the poor sod who was supposed to be the DJ? The one whose body is in the back?”
“Oh yeah.” Jack pulled a face. “Sorry. So much has happened, that slipped my mind.”
“Of course it did.” Ianto heaved a gusty sigh. “You weren’t the one who had to bag the body and clean up the mess. Nostrovites aren’t particularly tidy when they’re eating. Good thing I thought to bring overalls and cleaning supplies; they might not be traditional for most weddings, but when Torchwood’s involved, they tend to be essential requirements.”
“You did a great job tonight, and I’m not just talking about the cleanup and being the stand-in DJ.” Jack gave his lover’s leg a brief squeeze before returning his hand to the steering wheel. “How did Rhys take his friend’s death?”
“He doesn’t know yet, I thought it best not to spoil the day for him. I’ll break the news over a pint after he gets back from the honeymoon.”
“You’re a good man, going above and beyond the call of duty. The retcon in the champagne was a stroke of genius.”
“Yes, well, improvisation is par for the course for us wedding fairies.”
Jack laughed softly. “There you go, selling yourself short again. You’re not merely a wedding fairy, Mister Jones, you’re an all-around miracle worker. Did I thank you for rescuing me from Gwen’s clutches earlier?”
“Not in so many words.” Ianto sounded amused.
“An oversight on my part. I know it’s traditional to dance with the bride, but I was beginning to think she was never going to let me go.”
“If I’d known you wanted rescuing, I’d have cut in sooner. Looked like you were enjoying yourself.”
“Gotta keep up appearances, I’ve got a reputation to maintain. Plus, it was annoying Rhys, and you know how much I enjoy messing with his head.”
“On his wedding day, no less. You are a cruel man, Jack Harkness.”
“Just making sure he remembers to appreciate what he’s got. Although, after dancing with Gwen, I think Rhys was probably thankful he got a reprieve, however brief. She managed to tread on my toes eighteen times, I was counting, and the heels on those shoes were sharp! If I hadn’t been wearing my boots…” Jack trailed off, shaking his head. “It’ll be a miracle if Rhys can walk tomorrow.”
“Never mind Rhys; I’m not sure I’ll be walking tomorrow. It’s a good thing most of the guests had rooms booked at the hotel so all we had to do was make sure we put them in the right beds. Almost put my back out shifting Rhys’s Uncle Morton, he must’ve weighed three-hundred pounds. I swear, I thought the bed was going to collapse when I dumped him on it. Took his shoes and jacket off, but I left the rest. Let him think he passed out while getting undressed.”
“How did you get him up to his room by yourself?”
“Luggage trolley; they’re useful for more than transporting suitcases. Like I said, wedding fairies are good at improvising.”
“Take tomorrow off, get some rest. You’ve earned it.”
“What, and let you lot turn the Hub into a pigsty? Not on your life! I might take the morning off, come in after lunch, but only if you promise to feed Myfanwy and the other inmates.”
“Consider it done.”
“Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m tired and I’ve had rather too much champagne. Be at least another hour before we’re back in Cardiff, so I’m going to grab forty winks. Wake me when you reach my house.”
“Your wish is my command. Sweet dreams, sweet prince.”
“Twpsyn,” Ianto grumbled, but he was smiling.
Setling himself more comfortably in his seat, he fell asleep to the purr of the engine, and Jack quietly singing ‘Someone to Watch Over Me’.
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Ianto.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 774
Summary: Gwen’s wedding is over, and after dealing with the cleanup, Jack and Ianto are at last heading back to Cardiff.
Spoilers: Something Borrowed.
Written For: creepy_shetan’s prompt ‘author's choice, any, the car ride home after [any canon social event],’ at comment_fic.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood or any of the characters.
“Well,” Jack said cheerfully as he steered the SUV along narrow, winding, unlit country lanes, following the twin beams from the headlights. “That went better than expected, don’t you think?”
Beside him, sprawled wearily in the passenger seat, Ianto cracked open one eye. “Then your expectations must have been remarkably low. We had to retcon the guests and delete all the photos they took. It’s a good thing Tosh can edit the professional photos, or Gwen and Rhys would be left with nothing to remember their wedding.”
“Ah, but they’re married, the Nostrovite is history, Rhys got to look like a hero, and no one died! As far as I’m concerned, that makes this the most successful Torchwood wedding in the last fifty years!”
“No one died?” Ianto snorted. “Aren’t you forgetting Rhys’s friend, the poor sod who was supposed to be the DJ? The one whose body is in the back?”
“Oh yeah.” Jack pulled a face. “Sorry. So much has happened, that slipped my mind.”
“Of course it did.” Ianto heaved a gusty sigh. “You weren’t the one who had to bag the body and clean up the mess. Nostrovites aren’t particularly tidy when they’re eating. Good thing I thought to bring overalls and cleaning supplies; they might not be traditional for most weddings, but when Torchwood’s involved, they tend to be essential requirements.”
“You did a great job tonight, and I’m not just talking about the cleanup and being the stand-in DJ.” Jack gave his lover’s leg a brief squeeze before returning his hand to the steering wheel. “How did Rhys take his friend’s death?”
“He doesn’t know yet, I thought it best not to spoil the day for him. I’ll break the news over a pint after he gets back from the honeymoon.”
“You’re a good man, going above and beyond the call of duty. The retcon in the champagne was a stroke of genius.”
“Yes, well, improvisation is par for the course for us wedding fairies.”
Jack laughed softly. “There you go, selling yourself short again. You’re not merely a wedding fairy, Mister Jones, you’re an all-around miracle worker. Did I thank you for rescuing me from Gwen’s clutches earlier?”
“Not in so many words.” Ianto sounded amused.
“An oversight on my part. I know it’s traditional to dance with the bride, but I was beginning to think she was never going to let me go.”
“If I’d known you wanted rescuing, I’d have cut in sooner. Looked like you were enjoying yourself.”
“Gotta keep up appearances, I’ve got a reputation to maintain. Plus, it was annoying Rhys, and you know how much I enjoy messing with his head.”
“On his wedding day, no less. You are a cruel man, Jack Harkness.”
“Just making sure he remembers to appreciate what he’s got. Although, after dancing with Gwen, I think Rhys was probably thankful he got a reprieve, however brief. She managed to tread on my toes eighteen times, I was counting, and the heels on those shoes were sharp! If I hadn’t been wearing my boots…” Jack trailed off, shaking his head. “It’ll be a miracle if Rhys can walk tomorrow.”
“Never mind Rhys; I’m not sure I’ll be walking tomorrow. It’s a good thing most of the guests had rooms booked at the hotel so all we had to do was make sure we put them in the right beds. Almost put my back out shifting Rhys’s Uncle Morton, he must’ve weighed three-hundred pounds. I swear, I thought the bed was going to collapse when I dumped him on it. Took his shoes and jacket off, but I left the rest. Let him think he passed out while getting undressed.”
“How did you get him up to his room by yourself?”
“Luggage trolley; they’re useful for more than transporting suitcases. Like I said, wedding fairies are good at improvising.”
“Take tomorrow off, get some rest. You’ve earned it.”
“What, and let you lot turn the Hub into a pigsty? Not on your life! I might take the morning off, come in after lunch, but only if you promise to feed Myfanwy and the other inmates.”
“Consider it done.”
“Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m tired and I’ve had rather too much champagne. Be at least another hour before we’re back in Cardiff, so I’m going to grab forty winks. Wake me when you reach my house.”
“Your wish is my command. Sweet dreams, sweet prince.”
“Twpsyn,” Ianto grumbled, but he was smiling.
Setling himself more comfortably in his seat, he fell asleep to the purr of the engine, and Jack quietly singing ‘Someone to Watch Over Me’.
The End