Ficlet: Wet And Cold
Feb. 13th, 2026 05:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
badly_knittedTitle: Wet And Cold
Author:
badly_knittedCharacters: Ianto, Jack.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 783
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: As is so often the case for Ianto and Jack, once again everything seems to be going wrong for them.
Written For:
thatspacebird’s prompt ‘any, any, MAKE COZY’, at ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
threesentenceficathon.Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Some days, Ianto is convinced that everything is out to make his life as difficult as it possibly can. Of course, that could be the natural consequence of working for Torchwood, where anything that CAN go wrong frequently does, usually spectacularly, and at the most inopportune moment possible. As if the job isn’t already difficult enough. That’s partly because aliens, and their technology, are so unpredictable, at least from the human point of view, but Ianto does occasionally wonder if Torchwood is somehow jinxed. It would be just his luck if that were the case.
Whatever the truth of the matter might be, there are times when it seems that no matter what they do, or how hard they try, all they end up doing is blundering from one potential disaster to the next, often barely scraping through in one piece. Some might say that meant they were incredibly lucky, and maybe in some respects that’s true, but most of this stuff might not happen at all if they had anything resembling genuine good luck.
Now here he and Jack are, once again dealing with one of those ‘one thing after another’ days that are so demoralising. They do their best to save Cardiff, Wales, even the earth, day in and day out, and this is the kind of reward they get for their efforts. It doesn’t seem fair.
The power is out, but that shouldn’t be such a terrible thing; this is Wales, not the frozen north, not Alaska, or the Arctic in the middle of a blizzard. It isn’t even snowing, although it IS cold, just drizzling outside, but it’s the kind of relentless drizzle that soaks through everything until you’re so wet it feels like you’ll never be dry again. They’d been looking forward to getting back to Ianto’s flat, taking a hot shower to thaw out, drying off, having a hot coffee and a hot meal, then relaxing in front of the TV for an hour or two before going to bed, only…
Well, the power is out, right across the whole city, which means no hot water for a shower, no hot coffee, no hot dinner, and no TV. They don’t even have any light except for torches, a small battery lamp, and half a dozen tealights set on saucers around the room, where they won’t be a fire hazard. It’s almost as cold indoors as it is outside, but Jack and Ianto still have to strip out of their wet clothes, drape them over the airer, where they can drip onto some newspaper spread beneath them even though there’s no chance of them drying, and briskly towel each other off before they can catch their death. That might not bother Jack, what with his convenient immortality, but it would put a definite crimp in Ianto’s chances of continued survival.
Mostly dry, bundled up in thick pyjamas, thicker socks, sweaters, and woolly hats against the icy chill in what’s usually a snug little flat, they pile every blanket they can find on top of the duvet and crawl underneath. Ianto winces at the chill of the cotton sheets, which are usually plenty warm enough even in the depths of winter, and fervently wishes for a hot water bottle or two. Unfortunately, no matter how much he and Jack might wish, it’s not going to bring the power back.
If they’d known it was out across the city, they could have gone to the Hub instead, which, thanks to alien tech, isn’t on the national grid. They could have had heat and hot food there, but all they’d wanted was to get out of their wet things as fast as possible, and the flat was closer, so… It looked like they’d just have to snuggle together and make themselves as cosy as they could, because even if they could be warm and well fed if they went to the Hub, neither of them feels inclined to face the cold drizzle again to get there, especially since they’d have to walk.
Tomorrow, assuming they’re warm and dry, and the power is back, they’ll have to make the trek to retrieve the SUV, stuck rather inconveniently in a hole on a construction site, the result of rain-related subsidence. It will no doubt need towing, and possibly repairs; Ianto only hopes it doesn’t have a broken axle this time. Perhaps they should walk to the Hub first to collect Ianto’s own car and drive to the construction site…
Yes, Ianto is positive everything is out to get him. There’s no other explanation for the constant stream of unexpected disasters that pile up on him. Maybe it isn’t Torchwood that’s jinxed, just him.
The End
Whatever the truth of the matter might be, there are times when it seems that no matter what they do, or how hard they try, all they end up doing is blundering from one potential disaster to the next, often barely scraping through in one piece. Some might say that meant they were incredibly lucky, and maybe in some respects that’s true, but most of this stuff might not happen at all if they had anything resembling genuine good luck.
Now here he and Jack are, once again dealing with one of those ‘one thing after another’ days that are so demoralising. They do their best to save Cardiff, Wales, even the earth, day in and day out, and this is the kind of reward they get for their efforts. It doesn’t seem fair.
The power is out, but that shouldn’t be such a terrible thing; this is Wales, not the frozen north, not Alaska, or the Arctic in the middle of a blizzard. It isn’t even snowing, although it IS cold, just drizzling outside, but it’s the kind of relentless drizzle that soaks through everything until you’re so wet it feels like you’ll never be dry again. They’d been looking forward to getting back to Ianto’s flat, taking a hot shower to thaw out, drying off, having a hot coffee and a hot meal, then relaxing in front of the TV for an hour or two before going to bed, only…
Well, the power is out, right across the whole city, which means no hot water for a shower, no hot coffee, no hot dinner, and no TV. They don’t even have any light except for torches, a small battery lamp, and half a dozen tealights set on saucers around the room, where they won’t be a fire hazard. It’s almost as cold indoors as it is outside, but Jack and Ianto still have to strip out of their wet clothes, drape them over the airer, where they can drip onto some newspaper spread beneath them even though there’s no chance of them drying, and briskly towel each other off before they can catch their death. That might not bother Jack, what with his convenient immortality, but it would put a definite crimp in Ianto’s chances of continued survival.
Mostly dry, bundled up in thick pyjamas, thicker socks, sweaters, and woolly hats against the icy chill in what’s usually a snug little flat, they pile every blanket they can find on top of the duvet and crawl underneath. Ianto winces at the chill of the cotton sheets, which are usually plenty warm enough even in the depths of winter, and fervently wishes for a hot water bottle or two. Unfortunately, no matter how much he and Jack might wish, it’s not going to bring the power back.
If they’d known it was out across the city, they could have gone to the Hub instead, which, thanks to alien tech, isn’t on the national grid. They could have had heat and hot food there, but all they’d wanted was to get out of their wet things as fast as possible, and the flat was closer, so… It looked like they’d just have to snuggle together and make themselves as cosy as they could, because even if they could be warm and well fed if they went to the Hub, neither of them feels inclined to face the cold drizzle again to get there, especially since they’d have to walk.
Tomorrow, assuming they’re warm and dry, and the power is back, they’ll have to make the trek to retrieve the SUV, stuck rather inconveniently in a hole on a construction site, the result of rain-related subsidence. It will no doubt need towing, and possibly repairs; Ianto only hopes it doesn’t have a broken axle this time. Perhaps they should walk to the Hub first to collect Ianto’s own car and drive to the construction site…
Yes, Ianto is positive everything is out to get him. There’s no other explanation for the constant stream of unexpected disasters that pile up on him. Maybe it isn’t Torchwood that’s jinxed, just him.
The End
