m_findlow

Title: Under the weather
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 601 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for m_findlow's prompt "Any, any, whatever you do, don't throw up in the Queen's handbag" at fic_promptly
Summary: Ianto has picked a hell of a time to get sick.

'I really don't feel good,' Ianto said, standing there next to Jack.

Jack turned and looked at him for just a split second, diverting his attention away from where it needed to be. 'You do look a little pale,' he whispered.

Ianto was glad he whispered. Anything louder and his head might explode. He couldn't tell what it was. He'd been feeling fine this morning. If anything, getting out and about was just what he thought he needed after days stuck down in the archives trawling through a brand new section of mess. A change of scenery and a change of location was definitely in order.

Maybe this was one of those twenty four hour bugs. The kind that with a good night's sleep would make itself disappear by tomorrow. For all the good that did him now.

His tie, which he'd spent so long getting just right, felt like it was trying to strangle him now. He'd have given anything just to loosen it, or better yet, to tug it off completely. The whole suit combination felt ridiculously stuffy, though the rest of him felt clammy and cold. Now that he thought about it, his throat felt sore too, but his stomach was doing somersaults without the rest of him.

Then the bagpipes started up, a whole marching order of bagpipe players, leading up between the two rows of people. Ianto thought the sound might split his head open in two to match.

'Really not good,' he said to Jack underneath the din. He swayed just a little, leaning into Jack who was right next to him.

'We can sit down in a minute,' Jack said. 'Just hang in there a little longer. Should be wrapped up in an hour. You just have to get up there, accept the award and sit back down. It's just nerves.'

Ianto hated to tell him but this was definitely not nerves. As the bagpipes finished their assault in his head, he felt Jack sit down and he joined him, grateful for no longer having to remain upright. Beside him sat the remainder of their party, and some also took their seats just in front of them. Occasions like this at the royal palace were usually far more understated, but for some reason, a big fuss was being made about honoring Torchwood's efforts, in particular, the role Ianto had played in coordinating the inter agency operation which had saved millions of lives. With all eyes on the front row full of royals and military brass, he hoped no one would notice him. Then then strains of God Save the Queen started up and they were forced to stand again. Jack slipped an arm around him, feeling now how shaky he was. It was a relief just to sit down again, leaning forward on his knees.

'Nasueous?' Jack asked.

'Very.'

'Okay. Well, just take some deep breaths. If you can't get up there, I'll go for you.'

'Thanks.'

'One more thing, though.'

'What's that?'

'Whatever you do, don't throw up in the Queen's handbag.'

He looked down, spotting for the first time that the seat immediately in front of him did in fact house the reigning monarch, and that her neat little white bag was tucked under the seat. He really wished Jack hadn't mentioned it, as it now looked like the perfect receptacle for his violently protesting stomach.

Dear God, he thought. Please don't. It won't be the Queen that needs saving if that happens.

Jack placed a reassuring hand on his slumped shoulders. It was going to be a very long ceremony.