m_findlow

Title: Oldie but a goodie
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 692 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for m_findlow's prompt "Any, any, there are some things modern science just can't improve on" at fic_promptly
Summary: Jack has a penchant for dated items.

'I'll never understand your obsession with old fashioned things,' Ianto said.

He watched with morbid fascination as Jack shaved his face with that hideously sharp looking barber's blade. It looked terribly dangerous; one slip of the hand and he'd take off half his face with it. He'd bought Jack a whole pack of razors, especially picking out the ones that had the replaceable blades so that they would always be sharp, yet Jack insisted on doing it the old fashioned way, angling the blade against his skin by hand and judgement alone.

'You'll never get as good a shave from those things,' Jack argued, at which Ianto rolled his eyes. He preferred the electric sort personally. When you'd only had two hours sleep, anything that could help prevent you slicing yourself to death in your still half asleep mode was definitely a bonus.

'I like modern technology.'

'Says the man who can't stand sonic showers,' Jack quipped.

'That's totally different,' Ianto argued. 'A shower without water is not a proper shower.'

'It still gets you clean though, right?'

'That's debatable.' He didn't want to admit that there were places he didn't even want to think about sonic waves cleaning him. Good old hot water and soap would do him just fine, and he always felt better after the soothing warmth of the jets of hot water. A shower was a functional thing, but that didn't mean it couldn't be viscerally pleasing as well.

'You get a kick out of fountain pens and old guns that only hold six bullets,' Ianto replied. 'Given your propensity for getting into trouble, you always need more than six bullets.'

Jack set the razor blade down, rinsing it in the sink full of warm water. 'Hey, that webley has served me well for over a hundred years.'

It was a heavy, clunky thing. Every time Ianto had to pick it up to put it away he was continually astonished by the weight of it. It was all that iron and steel, he knew. His own handgun, made of aluminium and carbon fibre, was light as a feather by comparison. And it held a lot more bullets There were times when he could forget altogether that it was tucked into his belt or sitting properly in its holster beneath his jacket. There was no mistaking having a webley on your hip, though. No wonder Jack wore braces. He needed them just to hold his pants up against the gun trying to pull them down.

Jack had a penchant for old things, as if he was trying to purposely rebel against his futuristic lineage. He loved fiddling with typewriters and playing old twelve inch records and cassettes, kept a rotary telephone on his desk, and still insisted that Ianto occasionally print him acetate copies of documents so he could throw them up on an overhead projector at meetings. Ianto couldn't tell if he was being serious or just winding him up. How many times had some poor staffer at Staples looked at him like he was mad when he asked them which aisle they kept the overhead projectors sheets?

Jack slipped the razor up and under his chin and Ianto waited for the inevitable hiss that would signal Jack having cut himself. That thing was so sharp it was scary. One day Ianto was sure he was going to find Jack on the floor in their bathroom, bleeding to death from having sliced himself open from ear to ear.

'I really wish you wouldn't use that thing,' he said, frowning at Jack.

'There are some things modern science just can't improve on, Ianto. A good razor just happens to be one of them. I could shave you if you like. You'll never go back to that silly electric thing again once you feel how smooth it is afterwards.'

Ianto reached across and very carefully pulled the razor from Jack's hand, using his free hand to wipe away the rest of the shaving cream from Jack's face with a towel.

'I think I'd rather have you a little rough and rugged,' he replied. 'Like you said, there's some things that just can't be improved upon.'