m_findlow

Title: The morning after
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 472 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for badly_knitted's prompt "Any, Any, (619): I called you last night? What did I say?? (707): That you love me forever and that I'm the greatest in the world now mohammed ali is dead..." at fic_promptly
Summary: Jack has a hangover and a bunch of hazy memories

Jack's head hurt like hell.

He knew he hadn't physically aged in nearly two hundred years, but he suddenly decided he felt far too old to be getting about partying the way they had done last night. He hadn't had that many hypervodkas since, well... he couldn't remember. He wasn't sure he even remembered how many he'd had last night. There was a faint smell under this nostrils of pixie dust as well. Oh dear. After that he would have been done for. He cracked open his eye, looking for Ianto lying next to him in their room, only he wasn't there. Jack wasn't in their room. In fact, he wasn't in a room at all.

There was water lapping near his head, and he looked around realising he was out by the pool. He'd fallen asleep on a banana lounge, though he was lying on it upside down, and for some reason had an inflatable arm cuff on his right bicep. The rest of him was naked, of course.

'Urgh, pool parties,' he groaned, some of the memories coming back to him now. Ianto had turned in early, already thoroughly drunk, and not looking forward to the prospect of joining Jack for the water polo competition.

'Winners get to have sex will all of the losers,' Jack implored.

'Shouldn't mix drinking and swimming,' Ianto slurred. He was probably right. Ianto could barely stand, let alone be coordinated enough to keep his head above water. 'Have sex for me,' he said, staggering back towards their hotel room.

Jack kicked on after Ianto left, but that was when his recollections became blurred. He pushed himself up off the banana lounge, deciding to make an exit. Something under his stomach had been poking into it, vibrating, until he realised it was his phone. Huh, he thought. His clothes were nowhere to be seen, but somehow he'd kept hold of his phone. That or it was sheer dumb luck.

"Text me when you're awake. Ianto xx,"it read.

Somehow he managed to stop his head swimming long enough to tap out a reply, trying to remember the number of their hotel room at the same time.

"Hey. How's the head? Sleep okay?"

"Fine. Til you called me in the middle of the night."

"I called you? What did I say?"

"That you love me forever and that I'm the greatest in the world now Mohammed Ali is dead."

'Oh God,' he groaned again. If there was one thing he hated, it was the drunken declaration of love. Ianto would never let him live this down. Another message followed.

"Are you coming in? The bath is big enough for three. Not often you get to bathe with the world's greatest. ;)"

"Think I'll go drown myself in the pool first and see if that helps matters."