Ficlet: NOT Kittens
Jun. 11th, 2026 06:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
badly_knittedTitle: NOT Kittens
Author:
badly_knittedCharacters: Ianto, Jack, aliens.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 712
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Poor Ianto is stuck playing host to aliens who are testing his self-control to the limits.
Written For:
scifirenegade’s prompt ‘Any science fiction fandom, any, alien who look exactly like kittens’, at ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
threesentenceficathon.Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Ianto is used to aliens, they’re a large part of the Torchwood experience, from Weevils, to Hoix, to Blowfish, and sundry other sentient and non-sentient species, but… some aliens are harder to deal with than others, and some are just too much for him to handle.
He isn’t even talking about Daleks and Cybermen, not on this occasion. Those are just terrifying, traumatising, nightmare-inducing, murderous mechanical monstrosities, while these aliens are… Painfully cute, and they’re driving him out of what’s left of his mind. Right now, he’d almost prefer a Dalek; at least he knows what to do when confronted with something like that. These, not so much.
They’re not kittens, he reminds himself, they just happen to look remarkably like kittens, aside from their astonishingly dextrous tiny forepaws, hands, whatever. They’re small, and fluffy, with big blue eyes, fuzzy little pointed ears, miniscule pink noses, and bottlebrush tails. They even move like kittens, although not so clumsily, scampering around on all fours to get from place to place quickly, and it’s not their fault that he keeps getting the almost overwhelming desire to bowl them over and tickle their furry little tummies. Which, as he’s already discovered, they most definitely do NOT appreciate; he has the scratches to prove it, and he’s pretty sure that was their version of a POLITE rebuff of his actions.
If they’d intended to be rude, he thinks they could quite easily have bitten halfway through his thumb with their small but razor-sharp teeth, and as he doesn’t want to give Owen the opportunity to try sewing a partially severed appendage back on, he needs to be more respectful to Torchwood’s current visitors. That is not going to be easy, because honestly, who can resist the charms of a kitten? Even if these particular adorably cute balls of fluff are actually members of a highly intelligent, technologically advanced race who developed interstellar travel when humans were still living in the stone age.
Ianto just really wishes Jack hadn’t put him in charge of seeing to their guests’ accommodations and welfare while he and Tosh are working on repairing the kitten crew’s damaged spacecraft. Jack still believes that Ianto knows everything and can do anything, which is flattering, but unfortunately not true, because he has no idea how to entertain beings who are way more intelligent and sophisticated than humans will probably ever be. Which is the whole problem.
What kinds of entertainment could possibly appeal to such beings? And that’s a serious question, because he’s at a loss. He’s fairly sure that dangling a piece of string for them to play with isn’t going to work, and might well result in a serious, not to mention most regrettable, diplomatic incident. He’d ask them their preferences, only he doesn’t speak their language, and Tosh’s translation programme is having difficulty with it too, so communication hasn’t been going particularly well. It had been fine while Jack was available to interpret, but now Torchwood’s captain is busy with the spaceship repairs, leaving Ianto up the proverbial creek.
“Look, I don’t understand you, and you don’t understand me, so…” Ianto sets his laptop down on the floor with the visitors and demonstrates how to use it. Unsurprisingly, they learn fast; they might be small, but they’re intellectually superior to humans, and they’re soon exploring the internet, learning about planet earth and its inhabitants. Ianto isn’t sure whether or not that will turn out to be a good idea, but it’s too late to worry about that now.
At least the Not Kittens, or Mrrrouew, as they call themselves, are being kept busy for the time being, and with them sitting tidily around the laptop, paying attention to whatever’s on the screen, the temptation to pick them up and cuddle them is less intense. Ianto can almost pretend they’re not actually there.
He hopes the repairs won’t take too much longer, and that the visitors will soon be on their way to wherever they were going before they wound up in Cardiff. The sooner his life can get back to what passes for normal, the happier he’ll be. As it is, he’s going to need a stiff drink after this. Their guests had better not expect him to serve refreshments though…
The End
He isn’t even talking about Daleks and Cybermen, not on this occasion. Those are just terrifying, traumatising, nightmare-inducing, murderous mechanical monstrosities, while these aliens are… Painfully cute, and they’re driving him out of what’s left of his mind. Right now, he’d almost prefer a Dalek; at least he knows what to do when confronted with something like that. These, not so much.
They’re not kittens, he reminds himself, they just happen to look remarkably like kittens, aside from their astonishingly dextrous tiny forepaws, hands, whatever. They’re small, and fluffy, with big blue eyes, fuzzy little pointed ears, miniscule pink noses, and bottlebrush tails. They even move like kittens, although not so clumsily, scampering around on all fours to get from place to place quickly, and it’s not their fault that he keeps getting the almost overwhelming desire to bowl them over and tickle their furry little tummies. Which, as he’s already discovered, they most definitely do NOT appreciate; he has the scratches to prove it, and he’s pretty sure that was their version of a POLITE rebuff of his actions.
If they’d intended to be rude, he thinks they could quite easily have bitten halfway through his thumb with their small but razor-sharp teeth, and as he doesn’t want to give Owen the opportunity to try sewing a partially severed appendage back on, he needs to be more respectful to Torchwood’s current visitors. That is not going to be easy, because honestly, who can resist the charms of a kitten? Even if these particular adorably cute balls of fluff are actually members of a highly intelligent, technologically advanced race who developed interstellar travel when humans were still living in the stone age.
Ianto just really wishes Jack hadn’t put him in charge of seeing to their guests’ accommodations and welfare while he and Tosh are working on repairing the kitten crew’s damaged spacecraft. Jack still believes that Ianto knows everything and can do anything, which is flattering, but unfortunately not true, because he has no idea how to entertain beings who are way more intelligent and sophisticated than humans will probably ever be. Which is the whole problem.
What kinds of entertainment could possibly appeal to such beings? And that’s a serious question, because he’s at a loss. He’s fairly sure that dangling a piece of string for them to play with isn’t going to work, and might well result in a serious, not to mention most regrettable, diplomatic incident. He’d ask them their preferences, only he doesn’t speak their language, and Tosh’s translation programme is having difficulty with it too, so communication hasn’t been going particularly well. It had been fine while Jack was available to interpret, but now Torchwood’s captain is busy with the spaceship repairs, leaving Ianto up the proverbial creek.
“Look, I don’t understand you, and you don’t understand me, so…” Ianto sets his laptop down on the floor with the visitors and demonstrates how to use it. Unsurprisingly, they learn fast; they might be small, but they’re intellectually superior to humans, and they’re soon exploring the internet, learning about planet earth and its inhabitants. Ianto isn’t sure whether or not that will turn out to be a good idea, but it’s too late to worry about that now.
At least the Not Kittens, or Mrrrouew, as they call themselves, are being kept busy for the time being, and with them sitting tidily around the laptop, paying attention to whatever’s on the screen, the temptation to pick them up and cuddle them is less intense. Ianto can almost pretend they’re not actually there.
He hopes the repairs won’t take too much longer, and that the visitors will soon be on their way to wherever they were going before they wound up in Cardiff. The sooner his life can get back to what passes for normal, the happier he’ll be. As it is, he’s going to need a stiff drink after this. Their guests had better not expect him to serve refreshments though…
The End
(no subject)
Date: 2026-06-13 08:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2026-06-13 09:35 pm (UTC)Thank you!