[Torchwood] "Natty Dresser" (PG-13)
Jan. 31st, 2014 10:42 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, ties
An especially passionate morning encounter between him and Ianto had left Jack delightfully spent; he lay back on the pillows, eyelids slack as he hovered on the verge between waking and sleeping. Ianto must have thought his partner and superior had fallen back to sleep, the way he slid out from between the sheets with care not to rustle the covers.
From under his half-closed eyelids, Jack watched Ianto moving about the room, collecting his scattered clothes, slipping his underlinens into the hamper behind the bedroom door, setting aside his shirt trousers and waistcoat, likely to be sent to the dry cleaners. Last and certainly not the least, he took up his tie, running the length of it between his fingers before reaching for the closet door and open it, uncovering the tie rack hanging on the inside of the door then hanging up the tie in hand. He had a modest number, but what he had clearly looked like high quality stuff: no cheap stuff bought at a discount store: he had clearly scoured the better stores for his acquisitions. Jack watched as Ianto ran his fingers over the row of silk strips, gazing on them thoughtfully, clearly pondering this day's choice, what to wear with what garments. Did he match the tie to the clothes, or the clothes to the tie? So far, it looked like the latter, especially as he selected a matte navy blue tie
"You gonna pick some clothes to go with that tie?" Jack asked. "Not that *I'd* mind if you didn't, but everyone else around you might take issue with it. *I* might take issue if someone started checking you out or looking at you with those prissy looks the folk on Jansenia used to give me. S'pose I go for the same look so you won't be alone."
Ianto darted a glare over his shoulder at Jack, then rolled his eyes. "There's a mental image I'll be stuck with the rest of the day," he muttered.
"Mmm, but it's a mental image you wouldn't want to part with," Jack teased, sitting up in bed and swinging his legs over the side.
fic_promptly's Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, tiesAn especially passionate morning encounter between him and Ianto had left Jack delightfully spent; he lay back on the pillows, eyelids slack as he hovered on the verge between waking and sleeping. Ianto must have thought his partner and superior had fallen back to sleep, the way he slid out from between the sheets with care not to rustle the covers.
From under his half-closed eyelids, Jack watched Ianto moving about the room, collecting his scattered clothes, slipping his underlinens into the hamper behind the bedroom door, setting aside his shirt trousers and waistcoat, likely to be sent to the dry cleaners. Last and certainly not the least, he took up his tie, running the length of it between his fingers before reaching for the closet door and open it, uncovering the tie rack hanging on the inside of the door then hanging up the tie in hand. He had a modest number, but what he had clearly looked like high quality stuff: no cheap stuff bought at a discount store: he had clearly scoured the better stores for his acquisitions. Jack watched as Ianto ran his fingers over the row of silk strips, gazing on them thoughtfully, clearly pondering this day's choice, what to wear with what garments. Did he match the tie to the clothes, or the clothes to the tie? So far, it looked like the latter, especially as he selected a matte navy blue tie
"You gonna pick some clothes to go with that tie?" Jack asked. "Not that *I'd* mind if you didn't, but everyone else around you might take issue with it. *I* might take issue if someone started checking you out or looking at you with those prissy looks the folk on Jansenia used to give me. S'pose I go for the same look so you won't be alone."
Ianto darted a glare over his shoulder at Jack, then rolled his eyes. "There's a mental image I'll be stuck with the rest of the day," he muttered.
"Mmm, but it's a mental image you wouldn't want to part with," Jack teased, sitting up in bed and swinging his legs over the side.
