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Challenge 778 - Under the weather
Title: Under the weather
Character: Jack, Ianto, Gwen
Author: m_findlow
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 300 words
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Summary: Jack doesn't like to admit that even he gets sick. A triple drabble.
Gwen winced at the sound of Jack's pained heaving into the bucket. Even from this distance she could detect the slightly acidic tinged smell of it. It had to be ten times worse close up. For once she was perfectly happy for Ianto to be the one fussing over Jack. Most people were bad enough when they weren't feeling well. Jack was off the scales in terms of being difficult to deal with.
‘M’okay,’ he said, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow and then using that same salty sleeve to wipe his mouth, pushing the bucket away.
‘You’re very clearly not,’ Ianto said with the kind of patience you couldn't buy. ‘But let's continue vomiting into a bucket until you've filled it to the top before we admit it.’
Jack looked terrible, all waxy and pale. Gwen hoped whatever it was wasn't contagious. She pulled her face mask up a little bit higher over her nose just to be safe.
Jack folded his arms on the desk and rested his head in them. ‘I guess maybe I could be a little bit under the weather.’
Gwen snorted loudly. ‘Oh, stop being the bloody hero all the time! Just let Ianto tuck you into bed and feed you chicken soup.’
‘Chicken sooo…’ Jack grabbed for the bucket and upended his stomach into it once more. Ianto was behind him, rubbing his back and encouraging him to spit it up, whatever it was they both seemed to think Jack still had in his empty stomach.
Ianto sighed. ‘Good one. Perhaps don't mention food for now. Just thinking about it is making him nauseous.’
‘Well, he must be sick then,’ she replied.
Ianto nodded. ‘When we can mention donuts we'll know he's completely cured.’
‘Don't say do–’ More vomiting ensued.
‘Sorry.’
Gwen winced at the sound of Jack's pained heaving into the bucket. Even from this distance she could detect the slightly acidic tinged smell of it. It had to be ten times worse close up. For once she was perfectly happy for Ianto to be the one fussing over Jack. Most people were bad enough when they weren't feeling well. Jack was off the scales in terms of being difficult to deal with.
‘M’okay,’ he said, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow and then using that same salty sleeve to wipe his mouth, pushing the bucket away.
‘You’re very clearly not,’ Ianto said with the kind of patience you couldn't buy. ‘But let's continue vomiting into a bucket until you've filled it to the top before we admit it.’
Jack looked terrible, all waxy and pale. Gwen hoped whatever it was wasn't contagious. She pulled her face mask up a little bit higher over her nose just to be safe.
Jack folded his arms on the desk and rested his head in them. ‘I guess maybe I could be a little bit under the weather.’
Gwen snorted loudly. ‘Oh, stop being the bloody hero all the time! Just let Ianto tuck you into bed and feed you chicken soup.’
‘Chicken sooo…’ Jack grabbed for the bucket and upended his stomach into it once more. Ianto was behind him, rubbing his back and encouraging him to spit it up, whatever it was they both seemed to think Jack still had in his empty stomach.
Ianto sighed. ‘Good one. Perhaps don't mention food for now. Just thinking about it is making him nauseous.’
‘Well, he must be sick then,’ she replied.
Ianto nodded. ‘When we can mention donuts we'll know he's completely cured.’
‘Don't say do–’ More vomiting ensued.
‘Sorry.’