Fandom: Torchwood

Title: Ghoul Days

Parts: 1/1

Ship(s):  Jack / Ianto.

Rating: Mmm…PG?

Warnings: None. Pretty tame stuff.

Spoilers: Free of same.

A/N: Completely unbeta’d. A little piece of silliness that originated with a comment I posted on someone else’s fic. It wouldn’t leave me alone. I sprayed, I bombed, I swore out a restraining order…but it stalked me for a whole three hours before I gave in and wrote it. Pardon the silliness. But – enjoy all the same!

Disclaimer: Barring an unforeseen but totally awesome kinship to or inheritance from RTD, he and the BBC still own Torchwood. If I owned it, a) I would not be writing fanfic for cheap entertainment; b) Torchwood would have to air after midnight on pay-per-view, and c) John Barrowman would be my gorgeous houseboy while Gareth David-Lloyd would be my love-slave.

Summary: Jack misbehaves. Ianto gets a treat…sort of.

Ghoul Days

“Ianto!”

Jack’s voice carried through the Hub like a bullhorn. Ianto rolled his eyes.

“In the kitchen, Jack.”

Jack’s head popped around the corner. “Hey – got any plans tonight?”

Ianto frowned slightly. “Well – it’s Hallowe’en. I’d planned on staying in and contributing to the delinquency of minors by overdosing as many of them as possible on highly-refined simple sugars.”

Jack matched his frown. “What?”

“Trick-or-treating, Jack. Or didn’t they have that on Uranus?”

Jack smirked. “Sarcastic much?”

Ianto rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. Tired. Long day. Rift acting up. Owen acting up. The usual.”

Jack chuckled softly and joined the younger man beside the counter. “C’mere.” He drew Ianto close and pressed a kiss into his neck. Ianto melted into the embrace.

“Got bad news, I’m afraid,” Jack whispered into Ianto’s ear.

“Hmm?”

“I need you to work late tonight.”

Ianto sighed, deep and long. “Jack…”

“Ianto.”

“Fine.”

*

Two hours later found Ianto in the Tourist Office, idly sorting brochures and straightening maps in their wire racks. He was bored to tears.

And he hadn’t seen Jack since Owen, Toshiko, and Gwen left for the night, just after Jack cornered him in the kitchen.

It was around eight o’clock and darkness had long since fallen outdoors. Ianto watched groups of costumed children crossing the Plass with harried parents and resigned older siblings, and wondered what he was going to do with the large bowl of chocolates sitting on the table beside his flat’s door.

Well, Myfanwy will have an early Christmas, I suppose…

At that moment, a knock sounded on the hidden door that led into the heart of the Hub.

Ianto frowned. The hell…?

The knock banged again, more insistent this time.

Ianto activated the electronic lock, and the door opened.

And there stood Jack Harkness in all his glory, holding a plastic sack with a silly-looking vampire printed on it in front of his very nude groin.

Ianto’s eyes widened. “Jack! What – what are you doing?” he cried, rushing to lower the blinds on the windows before someone spotted him and called the Cardiff Police. Again.

Jack grinned – the million-watt Harkness smile that showed all his white teeth and crinkled his eyes at the corners. “Isn’t it obvious, Ianto?”

“What’s obvious is that you’ve lost your bloody mind!”

“Ianto – it’s Hallowe’en,” Jack replied, nonplussed, speaking as if to a toddler.

“So?” Ianto glanced involuntarily at the plastic vampire bag.

Jack grinned again.

“Naked Trick-or-Treat!”

Jack ducked in time to avoid the stapler flying toward his head.