Ficlet: Mood Swings
Title: Mood Swings
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Team.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Jack’s moods change faster than the Welsh weather.
Word Count: 500
Written For: Prompt # 438: Capricious, at slashthedrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
Some days, Jack was just infuriating, like a toddler with a non-existent attention span. His moods could change in the blink of an eye, from happy to depressed, or from angry to playful; sometimes it made Ianto’s head spin trying to keep up.
Take this morning, for instance. Ianto had woken to find Jack in a very… well, to be polite, let’s just say a very amorous mood, one that Ianto had been quite happy to indulge. It had been a good start to the day, and had left Ianto feeling energised and optimistic. Jack had seemed very cheerful too, but by the time Ianto had brought him his morning coffee, he’d found his lover sunk in a pit of gloom. Not a literal pit, although this being Torchwood, such a thing wasn’t unheard of, it was just that Jack’s good mood had evaporated and he’d gone all mopey.
A mopey Jack was never good news, he had an uncanny ability to bring everyone else down to his level of gloom, but being moderately considerate, he usually took his glum moods elsewhere, like the top of one of the city’s tallest buildings. Which was what he’d done immediately after downing his coffee, leaving Ianto to take care of everything around the Hub.
When he reappeared mid-morning, Jack’s demeanour had shifted again.
“What’re we all doing cooped up indoors on such a glorious day?” he’d cried, bounding into the Hub as if the warm, sunny spring day had infected him with springiness. “We should go somewhere, maybe the beach!”
“Jack, there’s work to be done,” Ianto protested.
Torchwood’s leader made a rude noise. “The Rift is quiet, and the paperwork can wait a few more days. Come on, kids! It could be raining tomorrow!”
Owen had cried off on account of being up to his elbows in dead alien, Tosh said she’d been waiting a week already to work on a new idea she’d had for increasing the sensitivity of their computer security systems, and Gwen asked if she could take the afternoon off as it was Rhys’ day off and she’d hardly seen him for a week.
“Sure! Why not? Live a little!” he urged. “So Ianto, how about it? Beach?
As infectious as Jack’s gloomy moods could be, when he was like this he was even more infectious. Apparently Jackness was contagious. Who knew?
So now here they were, at the beach, and Jack was complaining about sand in his boots and that the bottom of his coat had got wet from a bigger than expected wave.
“You’re the one who wanted to come to the beach,” Ianto pointed out, from where he was paddling. “You could’ve left your coat behind and changed into jeans like I did.”
Jack sighed heavily. “I know.” Then he brightened. “Hey! Why don’t we go to the boating lake?”
Ianto rolled his eyes. That was so like Jack, always changing his mind. One day, Ianto would explain why he’d started calling him ‘Grasshopper.’
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Team.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Jack’s moods change faster than the Welsh weather.
Word Count: 500
Written For: Prompt # 438: Capricious, at slashthedrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
Some days, Jack was just infuriating, like a toddler with a non-existent attention span. His moods could change in the blink of an eye, from happy to depressed, or from angry to playful; sometimes it made Ianto’s head spin trying to keep up.
Take this morning, for instance. Ianto had woken to find Jack in a very… well, to be polite, let’s just say a very amorous mood, one that Ianto had been quite happy to indulge. It had been a good start to the day, and had left Ianto feeling energised and optimistic. Jack had seemed very cheerful too, but by the time Ianto had brought him his morning coffee, he’d found his lover sunk in a pit of gloom. Not a literal pit, although this being Torchwood, such a thing wasn’t unheard of, it was just that Jack’s good mood had evaporated and he’d gone all mopey.
A mopey Jack was never good news, he had an uncanny ability to bring everyone else down to his level of gloom, but being moderately considerate, he usually took his glum moods elsewhere, like the top of one of the city’s tallest buildings. Which was what he’d done immediately after downing his coffee, leaving Ianto to take care of everything around the Hub.
When he reappeared mid-morning, Jack’s demeanour had shifted again.
“What’re we all doing cooped up indoors on such a glorious day?” he’d cried, bounding into the Hub as if the warm, sunny spring day had infected him with springiness. “We should go somewhere, maybe the beach!”
“Jack, there’s work to be done,” Ianto protested.
Torchwood’s leader made a rude noise. “The Rift is quiet, and the paperwork can wait a few more days. Come on, kids! It could be raining tomorrow!”
Owen had cried off on account of being up to his elbows in dead alien, Tosh said she’d been waiting a week already to work on a new idea she’d had for increasing the sensitivity of their computer security systems, and Gwen asked if she could take the afternoon off as it was Rhys’ day off and she’d hardly seen him for a week.
“Sure! Why not? Live a little!” he urged. “So Ianto, how about it? Beach?
As infectious as Jack’s gloomy moods could be, when he was like this he was even more infectious. Apparently Jackness was contagious. Who knew?
So now here they were, at the beach, and Jack was complaining about sand in his boots and that the bottom of his coat had got wet from a bigger than expected wave.
“You’re the one who wanted to come to the beach,” Ianto pointed out, from where he was paddling. “You could’ve left your coat behind and changed into jeans like I did.”
Jack sighed heavily. “I know.” Then he brightened. “Hey! Why don’t we go to the boating lake?”
Ianto rolled his eyes. That was so like Jack, always changing his mind. One day, Ianto would explain why he’d started calling him ‘Grasshopper.’
The End