m_findlow

Title: Taste test
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 500 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for badly_knitted's prompt "Any, any, I don't care how you cook it, I'm not eating it!" at fic_promptly
Summary: Jack's cooking up something in the kitchen

'I don’t care how you cook it. I’m not eating it!' Ianto declared, watching as Jack was busying himself in their kitchen, preparing what he claimed was meat. It looked more like a nobbly, five armed lavender sponge, than dinner. The closest thing he could think of was tripe, and he hated tripe.

'Please?' Jack begged. 'I promise, once you taste this, you’ll wish one of these fell through the rift every week. I still can't believe our luck at finding it.'

'I highly doubt that,' he replied, referring to the taste. 'It doesn't even resemble something edible.' He scrunched his nose up, and Jack put down the knife, visibly disappointed in his young lover's refusal at the effort he was making.

'Oh, that’s rich coming from you. Let’s not make mention of that blackened, twice boiled seaweed muck you have on toast.'

'Lava bread is not even a suitable comparison to that,' he said, pointing at it.

'Okay, oysters then. Pulled out of the sea and eaten whilst they’re still alive, disgusting rubbery, salty things. Blech!'

'Need I remind you of when we had to throw out all our frozen meals because of that Romanian horse meat scare? And there was the time when they were butchering up space whale and putting that into all the pies and sausage rolls. I honestly considered going vegetarian, so what makes you think I'm going anywhere near that?'

'Stop being so narrow minded! This was considered an absolute treat when I was growing up. We only ever got to have it on name days because it was so rare. It had to be specially ordered, and could only brought in on a trade ship once every fourth moon cycle. Even then, Gray and I used to argue over who would get the tail, which was the best part. If we were really bad and got into a fight, mum would make sure we didn’t get any of it as punishment.'

Ianto put aside their argument for a moment, trying to imagine Jack as a troublesome little boy, getting into tangles with his even younger brother. It wasn’t hard to contemplate, since some days it seemed like Jack had never truly grown up. Sometimes he forgot that Jack had grown up on a completely alien world to him, where things had been very different, and the things that dominated his childhood memories were poles apart from Ianto's own.

'Now, it's best served with local herbs that grow along the beach on the Boeshane, but since we can't get those, rosemary and garlic is probably the next closest thing.'

Ianto sighed as Jack preserved in his culinary efforts. One way or another, Jack was determined for him to try it. As the spiced meat hit the sizzling hot pan, the aroma could only be described as heavenly. He could feel his mouth watering at the smell.

Damn Jack. Now was probably too late to admit he was intrigued. Perhaps he could try it blindfolded.