Torchwood: FanFic - For the love of coat

[m_findlow]

Title: For the love of coat
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 374 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for badly_knitted's prompt "any, any, when you asked me to,... This wasn't what I was expecting" at fic_promptly
Summary: Ianto will do anything for Jack's coat

Ianto loved Jack's coat. He would have done almost anything to care for it and had lovingly done so for years. But even the most patient, calm and reserved person could be tested to their limits.

He hissed again as the tiny needle pricked the end of his finger, drawing a miniscule bead of blood. Instinctually, he put it in his mouth and sucked on it, knowing full well, thanks to numerous lectures from Owen, that he shouldn't. There were thousands more bacteria in his mouth than anywhere else, but old habits died hard, and he didn't have time for elaborate first aid right now. Even if he had, chances were that he'd only need it again very soon.

Once the tiny spot of blood was gone he resumed his task. He took up the tweezers once more and painstakingly began extracting the sharp needles from Jack's coat, collecting them into a small bowl. Reportedly they'd come from a run in with a very nasty plant but it still perplexed Ianto as to how so many could have become lodged in so many places. It was a small wonder that they hadn't impaled Jack to death with their razor sharp tips. Ianto had only been at it a half hour and had pricked himself nearly a dozen times.

He was sorely tempted to take it to the cleaners to sort out, but every cleaner in Cardiff knew him by name and he had enough trouble explaining some of the simpler traumas that the coat underwent on a regular basis. Besides which, none in their right mind would accept the task.

'Sodding hell!' he cursed loudly, as another thorn assaulted his already sore finger. He would have preferred to use a few other choice words but his restraint was holding out, if only just. If things didn't improve quickly, he was about to string together a whole list of colourful expletives that would cause even Owen to blush.

Jack chose that moment to waltz back into his office.

'How's it going?' he mused.

'Well, when you asked me to give your coat a bit of a brush down, this wasn't what I was expecting,' he replied, raising his hand which was now covered with bandaids.