[Torchwood] "Sick as a Dog" (PG-13)
Dec. 17th, 2013 11:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mtxref_ficAuthor's Note: Written for ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fic_promptly's Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, comfort while sick. Also written for < lj user="adventchallenge">'s "flu".
A night of chasing around a boggy area outside the city, trying to recover alien tech which some thieves had tried to hide out there, and after getting soaked through and chilled to the bone, Ianto had a bad feeling this would do nothing for his health.
And as expected, he woke up with his throat burning like a volcano. He glanced to the alarm clock: late already, even though Jack had told him to have a lie-in that day. The blankets felt like sheets of lead and his forehead felt like it would melt iron if it touched him. He reached into the drawer of his nightstand for his cellphone, pulling it out and hitting the speed dial. He punched through his access code, then waited for it to pick up.
"Hallo, Ianto?" Tosh's voice asked over the connection.
"Can't come in to work," he whispered, coughing. "Got the flu."
"Oh, *no*," she said, tutting, concerned. "Do want me to send something over?"
"Think I'll be all right, thanks," Ianto replied.
"Don't let me keep you: I'll come around later to have a look in make and you tea," she said.
"Right," he mumbled, then keyed off the phone and dropped it back into the drawer before crawling back under the covers. He would slip out later to fetch himself a few aspirin and a cup of tea, but for now, he needed to get under the covers and back where he felt warm. Though he knew in five minutes, he would start to burn up again...
...He felt something heavy on the covers and he wondered if his delirium had worsened, when he felt someone turn down a corner of the covers. Jack grinned in at him. "Heard you needed a house call: the doctor's in now," he said.
"Go 'way, Jack, you'll catch this," Ianto groaned.
Jack leaned over him, holding him down gently. "Don't worry about that: they cured the flu ages ago, where I'm from. And the last time I was sick, I'd caught the Vitruvec pox when I was traveling with some friends."
"Don't want to take any chances," Ianto grunted.
"No chances to be had," Jack said, sitting up and looking toward the night stand. "Made up a pot of tea, and Tosh sent up a pot of some kind of soup: recipe her grandmother makes just for colds, she says. She spent the whole afternoon smelling up the lab with the stuff, told me to bring it up to you. It better do some good, with that smell."
"Can't hardly smell it," Ianto grunted, digging further under the covers, as he heard Jack set to work dishing up a bowl. "Don't try anything foolish."
"Not on the roster," Jack said, holding up the bowl. "Except maybe a massage with a cool, wet cloth as you need it: doctor's orders, per Doctor Harper."
"Good," Ianto sighed, settling down on his pillows, as Jack offered him a spoonful of the soup...
fic_promptly's Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, comfort while sick. Also written for < lj user="adventchallenge">'s "flu".A night of chasing around a boggy area outside the city, trying to recover alien tech which some thieves had tried to hide out there, and after getting soaked through and chilled to the bone, Ianto had a bad feeling this would do nothing for his health.
And as expected, he woke up with his throat burning like a volcano. He glanced to the alarm clock: late already, even though Jack had told him to have a lie-in that day. The blankets felt like sheets of lead and his forehead felt like it would melt iron if it touched him. He reached into the drawer of his nightstand for his cellphone, pulling it out and hitting the speed dial. He punched through his access code, then waited for it to pick up.
"Hallo, Ianto?" Tosh's voice asked over the connection.
"Can't come in to work," he whispered, coughing. "Got the flu."
"Oh, *no*," she said, tutting, concerned. "Do want me to send something over?"
"Think I'll be all right, thanks," Ianto replied.
"Don't let me keep you: I'll come around later to have a look in make and you tea," she said.
"Right," he mumbled, then keyed off the phone and dropped it back into the drawer before crawling back under the covers. He would slip out later to fetch himself a few aspirin and a cup of tea, but for now, he needed to get under the covers and back where he felt warm. Though he knew in five minutes, he would start to burn up again...
...He felt something heavy on the covers and he wondered if his delirium had worsened, when he felt someone turn down a corner of the covers. Jack grinned in at him. "Heard you needed a house call: the doctor's in now," he said.
"Go 'way, Jack, you'll catch this," Ianto groaned.
Jack leaned over him, holding him down gently. "Don't worry about that: they cured the flu ages ago, where I'm from. And the last time I was sick, I'd caught the Vitruvec pox when I was traveling with some friends."
"Don't want to take any chances," Ianto grunted.
"No chances to be had," Jack said, sitting up and looking toward the night stand. "Made up a pot of tea, and Tosh sent up a pot of some kind of soup: recipe her grandmother makes just for colds, she says. She spent the whole afternoon smelling up the lab with the stuff, told me to bring it up to you. It better do some good, with that smell."
"Can't hardly smell it," Ianto grunted, digging further under the covers, as he heard Jack set to work dishing up a bowl. "Don't try anything foolish."
"Not on the roster," Jack said, holding up the bowl. "Except maybe a massage with a cool, wet cloth as you need it: doctor's orders, per Doctor Harper."
"Good," Ianto sighed, settling down on his pillows, as Jack offered him a spoonful of the soup...
