Use It in a Sentence; Week Four
Title: Use It in A Sentence; Week 4
Author: sariagray
Characters: Jack/Ianto, Team
Word Count: Between 100-200 words for each drabble; 7 drabbles.
Rating: Strong R
Warnings: Language. Some hints at spoilers for the whole series. Implied sexual activity. Angsty fighting stuff. Unbeta'd so if you're feeling adventurous, go ahead and find the mistakes I've "hidden" throughout.
Disclaimer: This is solely for amusement. Torchwood and all it entails is owned by men and women far better than I. They make the money. I just get to play in their sandbox.
Author’s Note: I am seriously beginning to doubt the Merriam Webster Word of the Day choices. Except Number 6. Number 6 is one of my favorite words. And you're getting this a bit early because I couldn't sleep. The words can all be found here. Comment and let me know what you've learned! :)
Previous Weeks: Week One, Week Two, Week Three
Use It in a Sentence
Week Four
Misconstrue: To understand or explain wrongly : misinterpret. “According to the candidate, her comments about the city's schools were misconstrued by the media.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”
Gwen had been walking to Jack’s office when she heard Ianto’s voice carry above the incessant hum of the Hub. Curiosity getting the better of her, she paused and listened, hidden in the shadows.
“I am not!” Jack’s voice rose, indignant and strong.
“Jack,” Ianto chuckled bitterly. “Anything she wants, you give her.”
“I do not!”
“We all know it. We all see it. You’re whipped.”
“Ianto, I don’t -“
“You like her more than me.”
“That isn’t true!”
At that moment, Gwen had had enough. She was tired of all of this nonsense and she burst into the room.
“Ianto!” she shouted in frustration. “I am NOT after Jack. There’s nothing between us! I have Rhys and that’s enough for me, thank you very much.”
Both men stared at her for a moment, their eyes blinking rapidly in confusion. Finally, Ianto began to chuckle.
“I’m really glad to know that, Gwen. Really.” He paused for a moment and assessed her. “But…we were talking about Myfanwy.”
Hobgoblin: A mischievous goblin : a source of fear, perplexity, or harassment. “Max was convinced that hobgoblins had taken over his computer, which was why it was flashing garbled error messages.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Everyone looked up as Tosh slammed her hands on her workstation. Face red with frustration, she made a tiny exasperated noise in her throat.
"Tosh..." Jack cautiously began, a worried look gracing his features for a moment.
"It's the Rift! I keep getting these readings but nothing's there! Nothing!"
Gwen opened her mouth but was silenced by a harsh look.
“Nothing’s being taken, either!” Tosh snapped. “I know what to look for now.”
“All right,” Jack mediated as he glanced around the room. “Anyone got any ideas?”
They all stared blankly at him. Finally, Owen piped up.
“Teeny tiny alien invaders?”
“Right. Ianto, with me. We’re going to investigate.” He turned to Tosh. “We’ll let you know if we find anything out of the ordinary. It may be nothing.”
When they got to the SUV, Ianto paused warily before opening the door.
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the Rift, is there?” he asked.
“Nope!” Jack announced and flashed him a grin.
Contrite: Feeling or showing sorrow and remorse for a sin or shortcoming. “Mom finally let Jamie off the hook for the prank when she believed he understood why she was angry and was truly contrite.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"What did you do to the SUV?"
Ianto is using his "I'm-Not-Mad-But-I-Am-Disappointed" voice. His arms are folded across his chest as he leans in the doorway, hard eyes watching Jack's every move.
"I may have nicked the front end a bit," Jack admits, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
Ianto shakes his head impatiently.
"I expect that, the way you drive. I want to know why it's caked in mud and there are over three inches of water damage inside!"
Jack's eyes noticeably widen as the weight of the issue (and any subsequent punishment) becomes apparent.
"Wasn't me," he hastily denies. "Owen took it out after I brought it back! I swear!"
Ianto eyes Jack skeptically for a moment and then turns sharply on his heel, bellowing Owen's name, using his "Now-I'm-Bloody-Pissed" voice.
Jack breathes a sigh of relief and wonders if he has time to flee before Ianto figures out the truth. He knows he’ll need a backup plan, just in case.
Psephology: The scientific study of elections. “Erin is a political science major with a particular interest in psephology.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"I vote pizza."
They had had pizza the past three days. It had been the easiest option to both acquire and eat what with the hectic rift activity. And it kept well, which was an added bonus; leftover lunch had become dinner as the team worked into the dark hours before dawn. Entirely sick of the food and what it represented, everyone glared at Owen.
"Let's do Indian," Gwen suggested.
"Can't. Weevil attacked the owner." Ianto shrugged. "There's that Chinese place that just opened up."
"Got me sick," Owen groused.
"I think that was the beer that did it."
The trio looked at Tosh. "There's that cafe you all like."
"Takes too long," Gwen reminded her.
Jack cleared his throat and they all turned their attention to him.
"I'm making an executive decision...."
"That's a first," Owen muttered under his breath.
Jack raised an eyebrow but continued. "You all have an hour. Go wherever you want. See? Democracy in action."
"I don't think it counts as democracy when you decide for us," Ianto pointed out, not really certain why he bothered.
Pungle: To make a payment or contribution of money -- usually used with ‘up.’ “We all decided to pungle up for pizza.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
What he meant to say was “Are you staying?”
What came out, all teeth and claws, was “What the fuck is your problem? This isn’t a fucking hotel!”
A grimace of pain flashed on Jack’s face right before he shoved Ianto against the wall.
“What did you say?” he ground through clenched teeth, his voice thick with rage.
“I’m not your fucking maid, your whore, your personal bloody chef,” Ianto retorted, eyes almost black as he shoved back. “This isn’t work and I don’t -“
He was abruptly silenced by Jack’s mouth on his in something less like a kiss, more like a brawl. Ianto thrust his arms out and made abrupt contact with Jack’s chest in an attempt to push him away. Jack grabbed him in response, never breaking contact. The tension snapped thunderously and the kiss changed as though positive ions had been released into the atmosphere. Jack’s loosened his grip as their growls became desperate gasps.
“I didn’t mean -“ Ianto began as they pulled away for air.
“You’re so much more -“ Jack whispered simultaneously.
They paused, staring at each other, then laughed until tears ran down their cheeks.
Ululate: Howl, wail. “The puppy ululated in distress every time he was left alone.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
He focuses on the warm pressure of Jack's thumbs circling the prominent points of his hip bones. He has taught himself to do this to stave off his release. It usually only works once before even the most mundane or bizarre thoughts drive him over the edge. He's already done this tonight, but he still tries.
Jack elongates his tongue, stretching it as far along Ianto's hard length as he can manage before taking him full in his mouth.
Ianto notes that there are sounds coming from his throat that, although now expected, still surprise him. He has no control over the keening whimpers and glottal stops.
Encouraged, Jack's mouth works more fervently to its purpose and Ianto's hand clutches convulsively at some piece of cloth; sheet or duvet or pillow.
There is a cry, long and low, that resounds as his vision explodes into something white and starry. It is deeply primal, rudimentary in its supplication, powerful. By the way Jack's looking at him (with a little bit of astonishment and a lot of pride), Ianto begins to comprehend that it had been drawn from him.
Greasy Spoon: A dingy small cheap restaurant. “For dinner, Juan and his sister, who was visiting him at college, went to his favorite greasy spoon in the city.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“Charming,” Ianto muttered wryly as they walked through the glass door. “I hope you’re not thinking that this counts.”
“Counts as what?” Jack was fumbling with his wrist strap, attempting to calibrate something.
“As that date you’ve promised.”
Jack snorted. “Not with Owen here. Though, if you’re interested, we could always come back.”
Ianto glanced around the restaurant. It looked like one of the diners he’d seen in the classic movies, where one waitress worked and knew every patron’s life story. It might have been exactly that, its counter as faded and worn as the cloth on the seats, except that the waitress had ended up being an alien. Actually, knowing those classic movies, maybe it was exactly the same.
The light was dim and the atmosphere thick with dust and cooking smoke. He could smell it, too, the oil used to fry and the slight char of an overused grill. He looked at Jack and rolled his eyes.
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter to him where they went. Still, he wasn’t going to let Jack off the hook quite so easily.
Author: sariagray
Characters: Jack/Ianto, Team
Word Count: Between 100-200 words for each drabble; 7 drabbles.
Rating: Strong R
Warnings: Language. Some hints at spoilers for the whole series. Implied sexual activity. Angsty fighting stuff. Unbeta'd so if you're feeling adventurous, go ahead and find the mistakes I've "hidden" throughout.
Disclaimer: This is solely for amusement. Torchwood and all it entails is owned by men and women far better than I. They make the money. I just get to play in their sandbox.
Author’s Note: I am seriously beginning to doubt the Merriam Webster Word of the Day choices. Except Number 6. Number 6 is one of my favorite words. And you're getting this a bit early because I couldn't sleep. The words can all be found here. Comment and let me know what you've learned! :)
Previous Weeks: Week One, Week Two, Week Three
Use It in a Sentence
Week Four
Misconstrue: To understand or explain wrongly : misinterpret. “According to the candidate, her comments about the city's schools were misconstrued by the media.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”
Gwen had been walking to Jack’s office when she heard Ianto’s voice carry above the incessant hum of the Hub. Curiosity getting the better of her, she paused and listened, hidden in the shadows.
“I am not!” Jack’s voice rose, indignant and strong.
“Jack,” Ianto chuckled bitterly. “Anything she wants, you give her.”
“I do not!”
“We all know it. We all see it. You’re whipped.”
“Ianto, I don’t -“
“You like her more than me.”
“That isn’t true!”
At that moment, Gwen had had enough. She was tired of all of this nonsense and she burst into the room.
“Ianto!” she shouted in frustration. “I am NOT after Jack. There’s nothing between us! I have Rhys and that’s enough for me, thank you very much.”
Both men stared at her for a moment, their eyes blinking rapidly in confusion. Finally, Ianto began to chuckle.
“I’m really glad to know that, Gwen. Really.” He paused for a moment and assessed her. “But…we were talking about Myfanwy.”
Hobgoblin: A mischievous goblin : a source of fear, perplexity, or harassment. “Max was convinced that hobgoblins had taken over his computer, which was why it was flashing garbled error messages.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Everyone looked up as Tosh slammed her hands on her workstation. Face red with frustration, she made a tiny exasperated noise in her throat.
"Tosh..." Jack cautiously began, a worried look gracing his features for a moment.
"It's the Rift! I keep getting these readings but nothing's there! Nothing!"
Gwen opened her mouth but was silenced by a harsh look.
“Nothing’s being taken, either!” Tosh snapped. “I know what to look for now.”
“All right,” Jack mediated as he glanced around the room. “Anyone got any ideas?”
They all stared blankly at him. Finally, Owen piped up.
“Teeny tiny alien invaders?”
“Right. Ianto, with me. We’re going to investigate.” He turned to Tosh. “We’ll let you know if we find anything out of the ordinary. It may be nothing.”
When they got to the SUV, Ianto paused warily before opening the door.
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the Rift, is there?” he asked.
“Nope!” Jack announced and flashed him a grin.
Contrite: Feeling or showing sorrow and remorse for a sin or shortcoming. “Mom finally let Jamie off the hook for the prank when she believed he understood why she was angry and was truly contrite.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"What did you do to the SUV?"
Ianto is using his "I'm-Not-Mad-But-I-Am-Disappointed" voice. His arms are folded across his chest as he leans in the doorway, hard eyes watching Jack's every move.
"I may have nicked the front end a bit," Jack admits, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
Ianto shakes his head impatiently.
"I expect that, the way you drive. I want to know why it's caked in mud and there are over three inches of water damage inside!"
Jack's eyes noticeably widen as the weight of the issue (and any subsequent punishment) becomes apparent.
"Wasn't me," he hastily denies. "Owen took it out after I brought it back! I swear!"
Ianto eyes Jack skeptically for a moment and then turns sharply on his heel, bellowing Owen's name, using his "Now-I'm-Bloody-Pissed" voice.
Jack breathes a sigh of relief and wonders if he has time to flee before Ianto figures out the truth. He knows he’ll need a backup plan, just in case.
Psephology: The scientific study of elections. “Erin is a political science major with a particular interest in psephology.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"I vote pizza."
They had had pizza the past three days. It had been the easiest option to both acquire and eat what with the hectic rift activity. And it kept well, which was an added bonus; leftover lunch had become dinner as the team worked into the dark hours before dawn. Entirely sick of the food and what it represented, everyone glared at Owen.
"Let's do Indian," Gwen suggested.
"Can't. Weevil attacked the owner." Ianto shrugged. "There's that Chinese place that just opened up."
"Got me sick," Owen groused.
"I think that was the beer that did it."
The trio looked at Tosh. "There's that cafe you all like."
"Takes too long," Gwen reminded her.
Jack cleared his throat and they all turned their attention to him.
"I'm making an executive decision...."
"That's a first," Owen muttered under his breath.
Jack raised an eyebrow but continued. "You all have an hour. Go wherever you want. See? Democracy in action."
"I don't think it counts as democracy when you decide for us," Ianto pointed out, not really certain why he bothered.
Pungle: To make a payment or contribution of money -- usually used with ‘up.’ “We all decided to pungle up for pizza.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
What he meant to say was “Are you staying?”
What came out, all teeth and claws, was “What the fuck is your problem? This isn’t a fucking hotel!”
A grimace of pain flashed on Jack’s face right before he shoved Ianto against the wall.
“What did you say?” he ground through clenched teeth, his voice thick with rage.
“I’m not your fucking maid, your whore, your personal bloody chef,” Ianto retorted, eyes almost black as he shoved back. “This isn’t work and I don’t -“
He was abruptly silenced by Jack’s mouth on his in something less like a kiss, more like a brawl. Ianto thrust his arms out and made abrupt contact with Jack’s chest in an attempt to push him away. Jack grabbed him in response, never breaking contact. The tension snapped thunderously and the kiss changed as though positive ions had been released into the atmosphere. Jack’s loosened his grip as their growls became desperate gasps.
“I didn’t mean -“ Ianto began as they pulled away for air.
“You’re so much more -“ Jack whispered simultaneously.
They paused, staring at each other, then laughed until tears ran down their cheeks.
Ululate: Howl, wail. “The puppy ululated in distress every time he was left alone.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
He focuses on the warm pressure of Jack's thumbs circling the prominent points of his hip bones. He has taught himself to do this to stave off his release. It usually only works once before even the most mundane or bizarre thoughts drive him over the edge. He's already done this tonight, but he still tries.
Jack elongates his tongue, stretching it as far along Ianto's hard length as he can manage before taking him full in his mouth.
Ianto notes that there are sounds coming from his throat that, although now expected, still surprise him. He has no control over the keening whimpers and glottal stops.
Encouraged, Jack's mouth works more fervently to its purpose and Ianto's hand clutches convulsively at some piece of cloth; sheet or duvet or pillow.
There is a cry, long and low, that resounds as his vision explodes into something white and starry. It is deeply primal, rudimentary in its supplication, powerful. By the way Jack's looking at him (with a little bit of astonishment and a lot of pride), Ianto begins to comprehend that it had been drawn from him.
Greasy Spoon: A dingy small cheap restaurant. “For dinner, Juan and his sister, who was visiting him at college, went to his favorite greasy spoon in the city.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“Charming,” Ianto muttered wryly as they walked through the glass door. “I hope you’re not thinking that this counts.”
“Counts as what?” Jack was fumbling with his wrist strap, attempting to calibrate something.
“As that date you’ve promised.”
Jack snorted. “Not with Owen here. Though, if you’re interested, we could always come back.”
Ianto glanced around the restaurant. It looked like one of the diners he’d seen in the classic movies, where one waitress worked and knew every patron’s life story. It might have been exactly that, its counter as faded and worn as the cloth on the seats, except that the waitress had ended up being an alien. Actually, knowing those classic movies, maybe it was exactly the same.
The light was dim and the atmosphere thick with dust and cooking smoke. He could smell it, too, the oil used to fry and the slight char of an overused grill. He looked at Jack and rolled his eyes.
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter to him where they went. Still, he wasn’t going to let Jack off the hook quite so easily.