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fandomweekly2025-01-17 02:09 pm
badly_knitted) wrote in fandomweekly2025-01-17 02:09 pm
Entry tags:
[#246] Jack's Turn (Torchwood)
Theme Prompt: #246 – The Common Cold
Title: Jack's Turn
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: G
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Everyone else in the family has already suffered through the cold that’s doing the rounds. Now it’s Jack’s turn, and he’s not happy.
“I’m dyin’,” Jack groaned, sounding far more pitiful than an adult, and an immortal one at that, should be able to. “Why doesn’t anybody seem to care?”
Ianto rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, it’s just a cold, it’s not fatal. Even if it was, you wouldn’t stay dead for long, and you’d come back completely cured.”
Saying that was probably a mistake, because it gave Jack ideas. “Shoot me? It would be quick and easy, then I wouldn’t have to suffer through this hell. Or I could drown myself in the bath, then there wouldn’t be any mess…” He trailed off at Ianto’s unimpressed look.
“I’m not shooting you, or killing you any other way. And you’re not doing it yourself either, that’s final!”
“But I’m dyin’ anyway, I can’t breathe, my head aches, my nose is full of gunk, and if I have another sneezing fit, I’ll probably drop dead of asphyxiation anyway. It’s awful! How can you let me suffer like this? I thought you loved me!”
“I do love you. I married you, didn’t I?” Ianto sighed. “The rest of the family have already had it, and we survived. Are you saying the great Captain Jack Harkness, ex-Time Agent, head of Torchwood Three, former companion of the Doctor, voted Rear of the Year three years in a row, is such a wimp that he can’t deal with having a bit of a cold?”
Jack shrank back on the sofa, pouting, then sneezed and reached for the tissues. “You’re a hard, cruel man, Ianto Jones.”
“And you’re not usually this whiny, even when you’re coming back from actual death before you’re fully healed. What sort of example are you setting for our children? That if they whine and complain enough, they’ll get special attention? The twins didn’t even miss a day of school.”
Privately, Ianrto thought their teachers probably wished they had, instead of spreading their germs to everyone else, but to be fair, practically everyone at the school had already either got a cold, were recovering from one, or were likely already infected, so keeping the kids home when they wanted to be at school would have made little difference. They’d picked it up from their classmates in the first place, and had helpfully proceeded to spread it through the rest of the family, through their habit of sneezing without covering their noses and mouths, then wiping their noses on their sleeves instead of using tissues. At six years old, they were proving difficult to housetrain.
Jack sneezed again, and gazed at Ianto through watery eyes. “I don’t wanna go to work. Can’t I stay home?”
Ianto shrugged. “If you want; it’s not as if I can force you to do anything. But one of us needs to be at the Hub, so if you’re volunteering to stay home and look after the baby, I’ll get changed and go to work.”
Ianto could have pointed out that he hadn’t taken a day off the previous week while suffering from his own cold, nor had he complained on the days it was his turn to look after their one-year-old daughter. He was a parent and the deputy head of Torchwood Three, he understood that work and parenting duties didn’t stop just because he was feeling a bit under the weather. Yes, his sneezing had upset Myfanwy, who’d tried to mother him and wound up with the sniffles herself, but he’d done his job.
“But I need looking after!”
“You’re big enough and old enough to look after yourself, and anyway, Nosy will be here to help out. Look on the bright side; you won’t have to smell anything when you’re changing Rosie’s nappies.” From Ianto’s point of view, that had been the one positive aspect about having a cold.
Jack didn’t seem to agree, judging by the way his pout got even poutier.
“What’s the point of staying home if I still have to work?”
“No point at all, so you might as well go to work. It IS your turn. You can sit at your desk and not do your paperwork, which is more or less what you do even when you don’t have a cold.”
“I do paperwork!” Jack protested.
“Only when you can’t avoid it or leave it for me.”
“You’re better at it than I am.”
“Then you need more practice.” Ianto folded his arms over his chest.
“Meanie.”
“Sometimes I think our twins are more mature than their dad. You have two choices: stay home and look after Rosie, or go to work and mope in your office.”
“Fine, I’ll go to work.” Jack levered himself wearily off the sofa and trudged towards their entrance hall, where his boots sat on the shoe rack, and his coat hung on the antique coat rack. His fluffy bunny slippers made flappy noises as he went up the steps.
Ianto followed. “I made you a flask of coffee to take with you.”
“Not that I can taste it,” Jack grumped.
“Poor Jack.” Ianto helped his husband into his coat and patted his shoulder sympathetically.
“NOW you’re sympathetic?”
“Might I remind you of how much sympathy I got when I had the cold?” Ianto raised an enquiring eyebrow. “As I recall, you told me to stop fussing, it was just a cold, and I’d be fine in a few days. All I did was ask if you could pick up the dry cleaning and a couple of packets of throat lozenges for me on your way home because I didn’t want to take Rosie out in the cold while she was still snuffly.”
Jack winced, remembering how grumpy he’d been at being asked to run errands after work when it was usually the one who was home who did all the shopping and running around.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know this cold was so… icky.”
“Water under the bridge. Go to work. If it’s quiet enough, you might not even have to do anything.”
“I can hope.”
The End
Ianto rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, it’s just a cold, it’s not fatal. Even if it was, you wouldn’t stay dead for long, and you’d come back completely cured.”
Saying that was probably a mistake, because it gave Jack ideas. “Shoot me? It would be quick and easy, then I wouldn’t have to suffer through this hell. Or I could drown myself in the bath, then there wouldn’t be any mess…” He trailed off at Ianto’s unimpressed look.
“I’m not shooting you, or killing you any other way. And you’re not doing it yourself either, that’s final!”
“But I’m dyin’ anyway, I can’t breathe, my head aches, my nose is full of gunk, and if I have another sneezing fit, I’ll probably drop dead of asphyxiation anyway. It’s awful! How can you let me suffer like this? I thought you loved me!”
“I do love you. I married you, didn’t I?” Ianto sighed. “The rest of the family have already had it, and we survived. Are you saying the great Captain Jack Harkness, ex-Time Agent, head of Torchwood Three, former companion of the Doctor, voted Rear of the Year three years in a row, is such a wimp that he can’t deal with having a bit of a cold?”
Jack shrank back on the sofa, pouting, then sneezed and reached for the tissues. “You’re a hard, cruel man, Ianto Jones.”
“And you’re not usually this whiny, even when you’re coming back from actual death before you’re fully healed. What sort of example are you setting for our children? That if they whine and complain enough, they’ll get special attention? The twins didn’t even miss a day of school.”
Privately, Ianrto thought their teachers probably wished they had, instead of spreading their germs to everyone else, but to be fair, practically everyone at the school had already either got a cold, were recovering from one, or were likely already infected, so keeping the kids home when they wanted to be at school would have made little difference. They’d picked it up from their classmates in the first place, and had helpfully proceeded to spread it through the rest of the family, through their habit of sneezing without covering their noses and mouths, then wiping their noses on their sleeves instead of using tissues. At six years old, they were proving difficult to housetrain.
Jack sneezed again, and gazed at Ianto through watery eyes. “I don’t wanna go to work. Can’t I stay home?”
Ianto shrugged. “If you want; it’s not as if I can force you to do anything. But one of us needs to be at the Hub, so if you’re volunteering to stay home and look after the baby, I’ll get changed and go to work.”
Ianto could have pointed out that he hadn’t taken a day off the previous week while suffering from his own cold, nor had he complained on the days it was his turn to look after their one-year-old daughter. He was a parent and the deputy head of Torchwood Three, he understood that work and parenting duties didn’t stop just because he was feeling a bit under the weather. Yes, his sneezing had upset Myfanwy, who’d tried to mother him and wound up with the sniffles herself, but he’d done his job.
“But I need looking after!”
“You’re big enough and old enough to look after yourself, and anyway, Nosy will be here to help out. Look on the bright side; you won’t have to smell anything when you’re changing Rosie’s nappies.” From Ianto’s point of view, that had been the one positive aspect about having a cold.
Jack didn’t seem to agree, judging by the way his pout got even poutier.
“What’s the point of staying home if I still have to work?”
“No point at all, so you might as well go to work. It IS your turn. You can sit at your desk and not do your paperwork, which is more or less what you do even when you don’t have a cold.”
“I do paperwork!” Jack protested.
“Only when you can’t avoid it or leave it for me.”
“You’re better at it than I am.”
“Then you need more practice.” Ianto folded his arms over his chest.
“Meanie.”
“Sometimes I think our twins are more mature than their dad. You have two choices: stay home and look after Rosie, or go to work and mope in your office.”
“Fine, I’ll go to work.” Jack levered himself wearily off the sofa and trudged towards their entrance hall, where his boots sat on the shoe rack, and his coat hung on the antique coat rack. His fluffy bunny slippers made flappy noises as he went up the steps.
Ianto followed. “I made you a flask of coffee to take with you.”
“Not that I can taste it,” Jack grumped.
“Poor Jack.” Ianto helped his husband into his coat and patted his shoulder sympathetically.
“NOW you’re sympathetic?”
“Might I remind you of how much sympathy I got when I had the cold?” Ianto raised an enquiring eyebrow. “As I recall, you told me to stop fussing, it was just a cold, and I’d be fine in a few days. All I did was ask if you could pick up the dry cleaning and a couple of packets of throat lozenges for me on your way home because I didn’t want to take Rosie out in the cold while she was still snuffly.”
Jack winced, remembering how grumpy he’d been at being asked to run errands after work when it was usually the one who was home who did all the shopping and running around.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know this cold was so… icky.”
“Water under the bridge. Go to work. If it’s quiet enough, you might not even have to do anything.”
“I can hope.”
The End