Slashthedrabble Challenge 610 - Due for a cut

[m_findlow]

Title: Due for a cut
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 500 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Challenge 610 - Growth at slashthedrabble
Summary: Ianto never stopped to consider that a holiday might also mean more regular grooming.


Ianto woke from his doze to find Jack asleep against his shoulder. It turned out he wasn't the only one who couldn't resist a nap in the sun under a perfect tree by the lake. Only this lake was on another planet in a star system thousands of light years from home. There was no one else here except for them, which meant there was zero chance of getting pickpocketed if they let their guard down and decided to have a nap. He certainly couldn't have said the same if they'd been in Cardiff. Then again, Cardiff didn't have perfect, warm sunny afternoons like this either.

A holiday was just what they'd needed, and Jack had finally called in a favour from that Doctor of his. He'd picked them up on Saturday morning and would have them home again by Sunday night, even if two months might pass in between then. Jack hadn't even planned on telling the team they were doing anything more than having a weekend away, but Ianto knew better and worded them up. The Doctor didn't have a good track record of getting people back on time, which was ironic considering.

Ianto ran a hand through Jack's hair as he snuggled close. It was getting so long now, his fringe hanging in a long lick from right to left across his face. Jack stirred and nuzzled closer as Ianto continued to comb his fingers through it. You need a haircut, he said, glad that he'd gotten his own cut not long before they'd gone on vacation. It was only just getting a little thick now, but still far from needing a good shearing.

'Bald runs in the family, Ianto,' his grandfather had told him once. 'Hardly grows at all and then suddenly one day you've got nothing at all. That's what you've got to look forward to, my lad.'

'Thank God for that,' his mum had said. 'Won't have to worry about you coming home one day with dreadlocks and all sorts.' He'd found a rasta hat in an op shop about a week later and worn it home, singing Three Little Birds, just to wind her up. She'd just laughed at him and called him daft before serving up tea and welshcakes.

'What are you smiling about?' Jack asked, looking up and studying the little happy expression that must have been playing on his face.

'Nothing,' he replied. It was funny to think of it as a happy memory. It hadn't seemed like one at the time but he supposed it was all relative. Age had a way of changing your perspective on things. He ran his fingers through Jack's fringe one last time, brushing it out of his face.

'I guess it is getting a little long. Dying tends to keep it in check, normally.'

'Shame on you for living so long without dying,' Ianto teased. 'So, where does one get their hair cut when they're on an intergalactic holiday?'

'At a hairdresser, usually.'