Torchwood: Fanfic: Put it in a letter

[m_findlow]

Title: Put it in a letter
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 859 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for samuraiter's prompt "Any, any, "Did you get the mail?" "No, I got the mailman" " at fic_promptly
Summary: There's truly no such thing as a day off

A proper day off for once,Ianto thought, draining the remnants of his cup of coffee and easing back into the chair. Not just one day, but three whole days of nothing to do except whatever took their fancy. There were no timetables, no deadlines and no aliens; just him and Jack, mooching around the house. If the weather held up, it might be nice to go for a walk in the park later on, enjoying the last few shards of sunlight as they broke through the thinning trees, making the autumn leaves glow in shades of red and gold.

Jack was in the chair opposite him, lounging sideways with his legs hanging over the arm, idly reading the paper. Even that was nice, just reading the news like normal people, rather than the daily chore of scanning the papers for anything that struck them as a little bit off, adding it to the pile of things to look into for potential extraterrestrial influence. Today he'd be more concerned with the comics and the lifestyle section. There'd been a very interesting piece on the Seychelles, and he wouldn't mind suggesting it to Jack as their next holiday destination, assuming they could get holidays. Still, he supposed he shouldn't be fussy about where they spent their limited time off. It just wasn't quite the same looking at photos of sparkling water and lush green jungles, as it was being there.

Jack looked up from from the newspaper, giving his lover a brief smile.

'This is nice.'

'Isn't it?' Ianto agreed. They could do with more days like these.

'You wanna go check the letterbox? Mail should've arrived by now,' Jack suggested.

'I'm still in my pajamas,' he replied.

'So?'

True, he supposed. What did it matter if he wasn't dressed yet? Jack was probably only going to remove them shortly anyway. If you couldn't collect the post in your pajamas on your day off, when could you?

He got up and fetched his slippers, padding down the short series of steps from their front door and along the path, admiring the box hedges they'd planted a few months ago. They didn't have much time for gardening, but at least their front yard was beginning to look respectable. In the next yard, he could see old Mrs Wilkinson, pottering about amongst the lavender.

'Hello, dear,' she greeted. 'You're up late,' she said, spotting his attire.

'Day off,' he replied.

'That's nice. I always say you work too hard, coming home at all hours. Have you come to check the post? I haven't seen him yet today.'

Ianto smiled at her and kept walking to the letterbox anyway. Mrs Wilkinson was a lovely lady, but she had a bad memory, which was rather an advantage when you live next door to Torchwood agents. People in the street had long since stopped with the curtain twitching when it came to the people living at number fourteen. If there was an award for the most retconned street in Cardiff, theirs won hands down.

Stepping up to the letterbox, he cast a glance up and down the otherwise quiet street. Usually you could hear the postie coming, ringing his pushbike bell at each house as he slipped the letters through the opening, or trundling up the path with parcels under his arm. True to her word, there was no sign of him, and he was usually very consistent on his delivery route. Perhaps he too was having a day off, and a replacement postie was doing his route.

Undoing the latch on the box, he saw that there was definitely something in there.

'Help! What's happened to me?' came the tiny cry. Inside the mailbox was a miniature postman, complete with pushbike. Not just any postman, but their postman. Oh dear.

'Hey, I know you,' the postman said. 'Your the ones at number fourteen that get all the odd parcels, and mail postmarked from Buckingham Palace.'

'What happened?' Ianto asked, not even pausing to consider how weird this was.

'I dunno. I was doing my mail run, and the last thing I remember was shoving a letter in your letterbox.'

'Okay, we can fix this,' Ianto promised. 'Come with me,' he said, holding out his hand so that the tiny postie could climb on. In his other hand, he gently picked up the dollhouse sized bike.

'Who are you talking to, dear?' came Mrs Wilkinson's voice. 'Did you get any mail?'

'Oh,' he said, clasping one hand over the other to hide the tiny man. 'No mail, just a stick insect. Thought I'd take him inside and put him out in the back yard with the roses.'

'Oh, yes, he'll like that. Such a nice young man,' she muttered, going back to her gardening.

Ianto quickly hurried back up the path and inside. Jack was still lounging in the armchair.

'Did you get the mail?' he asked.

'No, I got the mailman,' he said, holding out his hand, showing Jack.

Jack let out a small groan. 'So much for a day off. Don't worry, we'll have you back to your normal size in no time.'

Comments

[bk_forever]

Oops! I think this is a job for Tosh!