Ficlet: Dramatic Welcome

[badly_knitted]

 


Title: Dramatic Welcome
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Meriel, Nosy.
Rating: G
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto’s never sure what to expect when he arrives home from work.
Word Count: 500
Content Notes: None needed.
Written For: Prompt 167: Behold at anythingdrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
 


 
Ianto arrived home tired after a busy day at the Hub, looking forward to a hot meal and a relaxing evening with his family. Hanging his coat up and leaving his shoes on the rack, he padded down the steps into the sunken living room, seeking his husband, daughter, and their Fluff, only to find himself greeted in a less than usual fashion. 

 
Jack appeared from the kitchen, declaiming, “Behold yonder bright star that lights the heavens; methinks it is my own true love!” in a bizarre mix of nativity play and garbled Shakespeare.
 

“Behold my overly dramatic husband,” Ianto responded, feeling the stresses and frustrations of the day begin to melt away. “You’ve been helping Meriel rehearse, haven’t you?” Their six-year-old daughter was playing the lead angel in the school’s nativity play.

 
“Or course, ” Jack agreed, “that’s what good daddies do. She’s going to be the best angel there ever was, you just wait and see.”

 
“Speaking of which, where is our angelic daughter?”

 
“Just getting washed up; dinner’s almost ready.”
 

Ianto sniffed the air. “Mmm, smells wonderful. Just let me get out of my suit, then we can eat.”
 

“Naked dining? Now that would really be a sight to behold.” Jack waggled his eyebrows.

 
“Twpsyn. I fully intend to put something else on after I take this suit off. It’s raining out and I got a bit damp.”

 
“Shame.” Jack’s pout made it clear he was disappointed Ianto was choosing to dress for dinner, not that he was sorry his husband had got wet. Typical. Not that a bit of rain could harm an immortal, but still, being damp wasn’t pleasant.
 

“Taddy, you’re home!” Meriel burst through the archway that led to the bedrooms, running to throw her arms around Ianto’s legs. She had a circlet of silver tinsel on her head as a makeshift halo and was wearing one of Ianto’s white shirts in lieu of angel robes. Nosy slithered along behind her, also decorated with tinsel.

 
“Behold the angelic host!” Jack declaimed proudly.

 
Chuckling, Ianto bent to hug his daughter. “I’m hoping we can do a bit better than a borrowed shirt for the big night! Hello, sweetheart; did you have a good day?”

 
“Uh huh! We did painting at school, and then I came home and daddy and Nosy helped me practice being an angel.”
 

“You don’t need much practice, you’re almost always an angel.” Ianto kissed the top of his daughter’s head.
 

Meriel giggled. “I am, but I still have to practice to get all my lines right.”
 

“Ah, of course you do. Daddy’s good at learning lines. He was in a play once himself.”
 

“Really?”
 

“Oh yes, at the Community Theatre. He was quite a hit; you’ll have to ask him about it sometime.” 

 
“Those were the days,” Jack sighed wistfully. “I got rave reviews!”

 
“You deserved them, you were very good.” Smiling reminiscently Ianto headed upstairs to get changed. Maybe next year Jack could audition for the Community Theatre’s Christmas pantomime.
 

 
The End