[drabble] Bliss
Title: Bliss
Author: noscrubs12345
awdt Christmas Quickie #5: Writing out Christmas cards
Word Count: 100
Rating: G
Summary: He wouldn't give this up for anything.
Warnings: slash; fluff?
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Russell T Davies and the BBC. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made.
Notes: Unbeta'd. Please point out any mistakes you may find. Tentatively titling this holiday "arc" of vignettes as Tis the Season. Because I couldn't come up with an original title to save my life.
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It’s almost too domestic-Ianto cooking dinner and singing along to the radio, the pasta threatening to boil over in a mess of bubbles and starch as the smell garlic and fresh herbs permeate the warm kitchen air.
Jack wouldn’t give this up for anything.
He smiles as Ianto bends to check the garlic bread in the oven, only turning back to the task of writing out the Christmas cards as Ianto straightens again.
He opens the card, ignoring the elegant facade and succinct season’s greeting, butterflies fluttering delightfully in his stomach still as he signs Jack and Ianto Harkness-Jones.
Author: noscrubs12345
awdt Christmas Quickie #5: Writing out Christmas cards
Word Count: 100
Rating: G
Summary: He wouldn't give this up for anything.
Warnings: slash; fluff?
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Russell T Davies and the BBC. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made.
Notes: Unbeta'd. Please point out any mistakes you may find. Tentatively titling this holiday "arc" of vignettes as Tis the Season. Because I couldn't come up with an original title to save my life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s almost too domestic-Ianto cooking dinner and singing along to the radio, the pasta threatening to boil over in a mess of bubbles and starch as the smell garlic and fresh herbs permeate the warm kitchen air.
Jack wouldn’t give this up for anything.
He smiles as Ianto bends to check the garlic bread in the oven, only turning back to the task of writing out the Christmas cards as Ianto straightens again.
He opens the card, ignoring the elegant facade and succinct season’s greeting, butterflies fluttering delightfully in his stomach still as he signs Jack and Ianto Harkness-Jones.