![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: "A Spoonful of Sugar"
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Hints of Jack/Ianto with a touch of Owen for flavor
Rating: PG
Notes/Summary: Just a fun, quick ficlet for the "Under the Influence" prompt over at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writerinadrawer.
Shameless Plug: Speaking ofwriterinadrawer, let me encourage everyone to read and vote. We love the feedback. Plus, there are only 18 or so of us left, so now's your chance to terrify some of your friends in the fandom with squee or brutal critique. Stories for this week's round will go up sometime after 2 PM CST (-6 GMT) and voting typically runs until 4 PM CST on Sunday.
Ianto examined the sugar bowl and smiled. It was lovely and strange, and the glass had luminous quality even under the Hub's harsh lighting. It looked like an antique, and he wondered who'd left it here for him. Toshiko seemed a safe bet – it was just the sort of thing she would buy – and he made a mental note to ask her about it when she, Gwen, and Jack got back from dealing with a weevil sighting in Penylan.
"You going to actually finish up with the coffee, Ianto, or do I have to watch you admire the glassware all morning?"
"Ah. Sorry. I was miles away." He set the sugar bowl down next to the tea tray and watched as Owen poured himself a cup from the freshly brewed pot. He was surprised when the doctor added a couple of spoons of sugar before skulking back to his workstation.
He gave the bowl one last curious look before he picked up his own coffee – black – and took the lift back up to reception. He had a full morning ahead of him. There was a new box of post cards and pamphlets advertising the traditional textile mill at St. Fagans to add to the displays, he needed to go over the night's police reports, and it probably wouldn't hurt to check Jack's messages for anything urgent. He'd only just settled in when the hidden door popped open.
"Sorry, did you need something?" Ianto glanced briefly at Owen before cutting away the plastic wrap on a stack of brochures.
"You know, I never really noticed how pretty your eyes are."
Ianto balked. "Excuse me?"
"Or your accent. Have I ever told you I love your accent?" Owen stepped in behind the counter.
"Not unless your endless commentary on how unintelligible the Welsh are constitutes some form of affection I'm unfamiliar with, no."
"That's a shame. Because it's gorgeous. Like your mouth."
Ianto took a half step back toward the beaded curtain. "Owen, are you feeling alright?"
"I feel incredible." Owen growled as he lunged in to pin Ianto against a filing cabinet. "God, I want you."
Ianto closed his eyes and scrambled desperately for the first useful sentence he could formulate.
"Owen? How do you feel about handcuffs?"
# # #
"And then I put him in a pair of weevil clamps and locked him in a cell."
Jack sat at his desk, trying desperately to maintain anything resembling a straight face. He held up the glass bowl. "And you gave this to him?"
"No, he took it himself. Two spoonfuls. I think he did it to spite me, actually. He doesn't even like sugar."
Jack shook his head and laughed. "No wonder he went berserk. Two spoonfuls borders on overdose for someone his size."
"If you ask me, the little weasel deserves it," Gwen said. "I can't count the number of times he's teased me about that whole Carys thing. Next time he brings it up, I'm going to put this on a loop in the boardroom." She smirked.
"What's he doing, anyway?" Tosh asked, squinting at the CCTV screen.
"I think," Ianto said, "that he's demonstrating his ardor."
The four of them winced in unison. Jack turned off the monitor.
"So what now?" Tosh asked, blushing. "I mean, is he ever going back to normal? And what is that stuff?"
Jack set the glass bowl on his desk. "Ishkut love dust. It's basically a marital aid. Couples take a pinch of it together with a glass of sweet wine on special occasions. Owen should be fine in a few hours. I'll check in on him periodically until I'm sure it's safe to let him out. In the meantime, Tosh, I want you and Gwen to go over the CCTV and Rift data and see if we can figure out how a bowl of it wound up next to the chocolate HobNobs."
"We'll get right on it," she said, and stepped out into the Hub. Gwen followed, still tittering a bit about Owen's performance.
"So what now?" Ianto asked.
Jack gave the bowl a critical look. "Well, I guess we'd better put this someplace safe. After all, we've got enough here to keep most of Cardiff in the mood for a week."
"I'll just go fetch a containment box, then."
"Good idea."
Ianto turned to go, but hesitated in the doorway. "Just out of interest, but 'special occasions' wouldn't happen to include upcoming bank holidays, would it sir?"
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Hints of Jack/Ianto with a touch of Owen for flavor
Rating: PG
Notes/Summary: Just a fun, quick ficlet for the "Under the Influence" prompt over at
writerinadrawer.Shameless Plug: Speaking of
writerinadrawer, let me encourage everyone to read and vote. We love the feedback. Plus, there are only 18 or so of us left, so now's your chance to terrify some of your friends in the fandom with squee or brutal critique. Stories for this week's round will go up sometime after 2 PM CST (-6 GMT) and voting typically runs until 4 PM CST on Sunday.Ianto examined the sugar bowl and smiled. It was lovely and strange, and the glass had luminous quality even under the Hub's harsh lighting. It looked like an antique, and he wondered who'd left it here for him. Toshiko seemed a safe bet – it was just the sort of thing she would buy – and he made a mental note to ask her about it when she, Gwen, and Jack got back from dealing with a weevil sighting in Penylan.
"You going to actually finish up with the coffee, Ianto, or do I have to watch you admire the glassware all morning?"
"Ah. Sorry. I was miles away." He set the sugar bowl down next to the tea tray and watched as Owen poured himself a cup from the freshly brewed pot. He was surprised when the doctor added a couple of spoons of sugar before skulking back to his workstation.
He gave the bowl one last curious look before he picked up his own coffee – black – and took the lift back up to reception. He had a full morning ahead of him. There was a new box of post cards and pamphlets advertising the traditional textile mill at St. Fagans to add to the displays, he needed to go over the night's police reports, and it probably wouldn't hurt to check Jack's messages for anything urgent. He'd only just settled in when the hidden door popped open.
"Sorry, did you need something?" Ianto glanced briefly at Owen before cutting away the plastic wrap on a stack of brochures.
"You know, I never really noticed how pretty your eyes are."
Ianto balked. "Excuse me?"
"Or your accent. Have I ever told you I love your accent?" Owen stepped in behind the counter.
"Not unless your endless commentary on how unintelligible the Welsh are constitutes some form of affection I'm unfamiliar with, no."
"That's a shame. Because it's gorgeous. Like your mouth."
Ianto took a half step back toward the beaded curtain. "Owen, are you feeling alright?"
"I feel incredible." Owen growled as he lunged in to pin Ianto against a filing cabinet. "God, I want you."
Ianto closed his eyes and scrambled desperately for the first useful sentence he could formulate.
"Owen? How do you feel about handcuffs?"
# # #
"And then I put him in a pair of weevil clamps and locked him in a cell."
Jack sat at his desk, trying desperately to maintain anything resembling a straight face. He held up the glass bowl. "And you gave this to him?"
"No, he took it himself. Two spoonfuls. I think he did it to spite me, actually. He doesn't even like sugar."
Jack shook his head and laughed. "No wonder he went berserk. Two spoonfuls borders on overdose for someone his size."
"If you ask me, the little weasel deserves it," Gwen said. "I can't count the number of times he's teased me about that whole Carys thing. Next time he brings it up, I'm going to put this on a loop in the boardroom." She smirked.
"What's he doing, anyway?" Tosh asked, squinting at the CCTV screen.
"I think," Ianto said, "that he's demonstrating his ardor."
The four of them winced in unison. Jack turned off the monitor.
"So what now?" Tosh asked, blushing. "I mean, is he ever going back to normal? And what is that stuff?"
Jack set the glass bowl on his desk. "Ishkut love dust. It's basically a marital aid. Couples take a pinch of it together with a glass of sweet wine on special occasions. Owen should be fine in a few hours. I'll check in on him periodically until I'm sure it's safe to let him out. In the meantime, Tosh, I want you and Gwen to go over the CCTV and Rift data and see if we can figure out how a bowl of it wound up next to the chocolate HobNobs."
"We'll get right on it," she said, and stepped out into the Hub. Gwen followed, still tittering a bit about Owen's performance.
"So what now?" Ianto asked.
Jack gave the bowl a critical look. "Well, I guess we'd better put this someplace safe. After all, we've got enough here to keep most of Cardiff in the mood for a week."
"I'll just go fetch a containment box, then."
"Good idea."
Ianto turned to go, but hesitated in the doorway. "Just out of interest, but 'special occasions' wouldn't happen to include upcoming bank holidays, would it sir?"
Tags: