[Torchwood] "No Hero to his Butler" (PG)
Jun. 23rd, 2013 02:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mtxref_ficAuthor's Note: Written for Any; any; the heroic thing is hell on the wardrobe. Mild Jack/Ianto.
If Ianto found another bullet hole, blood stain, or a burn caused by some nameless bit of alien technology on Jack's greatcoat, he would likely scream. At least once a week, he had to make minute repairs, either darning the wool or restitching the seams or replacing whole panels of the cloth. Normally, he didn't mind: the coat was Jack's signature garment, and except for the warmest days in summer when Jack shed the coat, he couldn't imagine the man wearing any other outer garment. But the effort Ianto put into repairing the coat often seemed one stitch ahead of the next round of damage.
He was seated at his workstation, busy putting the last stitches in the gusset of the coat, when a shadow fell over him.
"Clothing repairs falling under 'other duties as assigned'?" Jack asked, standing behind Ianto's chair. "I've got a few shirts to add to the list, after you snapped more than a few buttons off when you tore it off me."
"Those don't count: I only repair things damaged in the line of duty," Ianto replied, not looking up. "Could you kindly move aside? Your head is in my light."
Jack obliged, perching himself on the edge of Ianto's desk, just missing the pincushion on the desktop. "Remind me not to peel, the next time we have an alien with acid gunk oozing from its skin. It'd save you the trouble of making repairs. And the rest of you would have a nice view -- "
"Hush. You'd get your handsome arse arrested for indecent exposure," Ianto shot back. "PC Andy Davidson would likely be honored to take the collar."
Jack leaned over Ianto's work, putting a hand on his wrist. "Do I detect a hint of jealous concern?"
"No, that's exasperation because you're distracting me from finishing this seam," Ianto muttered. "At the least, you could wear things that are... easier to replace."
"One reason I buy my shirts in bulk from the same ready-made warehouse; that much makes replacements easier," Jack said. "But the coat stays. Been wearing it off and on since 1930 -- and off and on before that; got a tailor to make one up for me -- bit late to go for a different model."
"Couldn't see you in anything else, to be honest," Ianto said, tying off the last thread and snipping off the extra. He rose, holding the repaired garment out to Jack. "Good as new."
"Oh-ho, there you are, old friend," Jack said, taking the coat from Ianto, his eyes lighting up and his 500-watt grin returning. With his free arm, he hugged the younger man around the waist and kissed him on the mouth, gratefully. Reward enough, that and seeing Jack so pleased.
If Ianto found another bullet hole, blood stain, or a burn caused by some nameless bit of alien technology on Jack's greatcoat, he would likely scream. At least once a week, he had to make minute repairs, either darning the wool or restitching the seams or replacing whole panels of the cloth. Normally, he didn't mind: the coat was Jack's signature garment, and except for the warmest days in summer when Jack shed the coat, he couldn't imagine the man wearing any other outer garment. But the effort Ianto put into repairing the coat often seemed one stitch ahead of the next round of damage.
He was seated at his workstation, busy putting the last stitches in the gusset of the coat, when a shadow fell over him.
"Clothing repairs falling under 'other duties as assigned'?" Jack asked, standing behind Ianto's chair. "I've got a few shirts to add to the list, after you snapped more than a few buttons off when you tore it off me."
"Those don't count: I only repair things damaged in the line of duty," Ianto replied, not looking up. "Could you kindly move aside? Your head is in my light."
Jack obliged, perching himself on the edge of Ianto's desk, just missing the pincushion on the desktop. "Remind me not to peel, the next time we have an alien with acid gunk oozing from its skin. It'd save you the trouble of making repairs. And the rest of you would have a nice view -- "
"Hush. You'd get your handsome arse arrested for indecent exposure," Ianto shot back. "PC Andy Davidson would likely be honored to take the collar."
Jack leaned over Ianto's work, putting a hand on his wrist. "Do I detect a hint of jealous concern?"
"No, that's exasperation because you're distracting me from finishing this seam," Ianto muttered. "At the least, you could wear things that are... easier to replace."
"One reason I buy my shirts in bulk from the same ready-made warehouse; that much makes replacements easier," Jack said. "But the coat stays. Been wearing it off and on since 1930 -- and off and on before that; got a tailor to make one up for me -- bit late to go for a different model."
"Couldn't see you in anything else, to be honest," Ianto said, tying off the last thread and snipping off the extra. He rose, holding the repaired garment out to Jack. "Good as new."
"Oh-ho, there you are, old friend," Jack said, taking the coat from Ianto, his eyes lighting up and his 500-watt grin returning. With his free arm, he hugged the younger man around the waist and kissed him on the mouth, gratefully. Reward enough, that and seeing Jack so pleased.
