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m_findlowTitle: Lending a hand
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 300 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Challenge 358 - Hand at ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
drabble_zone
drabble_zoneSummary: The world finally makes sense to Ianto. A triple drabble.
'Come back here!' Ianto yelled, cursing after the comical sight of Jack's dismembered hand scurrying across the hub floor, using all of its digits to make as hasty a retreat as possible. But for the fact that their leader was currently short his right hand, it might have been hilarious.
Jack got up at the sound of the commotion, seeing his own hand making a beeline for him as fast as its fingertips could carry it. He knelt down and rescued it before Ianto's angry footfalls ran it down.
'Ah ha!' he declared, pointing a judicious finger at it. 'Your hand decided it was Steve McQueen and tried to make an escape.'
Jack frowned at his lover. After his initial fury, Ianto had attempted to take advantage of the situation, using Jack's hand to reach all the hard to clean spots in the hub. Jack couldn't see or feel what was happening, and neither did he have any control over his hand, yet it was one hundred percent Jack Harkness DNA. 'I don't know why you thought that was going to last,' Jack said, gently peeling the latex glove off his hand, covered in dirt and grime and binning the glove, freeing its prisoner.
'It should be making itself useful,' Ianto complained. 'Since it won't write reports, or help Tosh figure out how it became detached in the first place, the least it could do is help tidy the hub.'
Jack shook his head. 'Hasn't anyone ever told you that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result?'
Ianto sighed. 'You're right. You've never cleaned anything in your life. What was I thinking?'
'I'm sure it could do other things though,' Jack replied, grinning lasciviously.
Ianto's eyes rolled. 'I'll bet.'
'Come back here!' Ianto yelled, cursing after the comical sight of Jack's dismembered hand scurrying across the hub floor, using all of its digits to make as hasty a retreat as possible. But for the fact that their leader was currently short his right hand, it might have been hilarious.
Jack got up at the sound of the commotion, seeing his own hand making a beeline for him as fast as its fingertips could carry it. He knelt down and rescued it before Ianto's angry footfalls ran it down.
'Ah ha!' he declared, pointing a judicious finger at it. 'Your hand decided it was Steve McQueen and tried to make an escape.'
Jack frowned at his lover. After his initial fury, Ianto had attempted to take advantage of the situation, using Jack's hand to reach all the hard to clean spots in the hub. Jack couldn't see or feel what was happening, and neither did he have any control over his hand, yet it was one hundred percent Jack Harkness DNA. 'I don't know why you thought that was going to last,' Jack said, gently peeling the latex glove off his hand, covered in dirt and grime and binning the glove, freeing its prisoner.
'It should be making itself useful,' Ianto complained. 'Since it won't write reports, or help Tosh figure out how it became detached in the first place, the least it could do is help tidy the hub.'
Jack shook his head. 'Hasn't anyone ever told you that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result?'
Ianto sighed. 'You're right. You've never cleaned anything in your life. What was I thinking?'
'I'm sure it could do other things though,' Jack replied, grinning lasciviously.
Ianto's eyes rolled. 'I'll bet.'
