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Entry tags:
Same old same old
Meh! Gah! And other expressions of disgust...
I am boooooooooored out of my (fairly) tiny mind. The backlog of cataloguing just keeps getting longer, not shorter, which is just wrong as I'm actually doing work here. I'm just not getting any credit for it, which is wrong.
I'm bored enough to contemplate tunnelling my way out and I work on the 1st/2nd* *delete as appropriate for your side of the Atlantic floor.
I'm bored enough that I'm thinking about sorting my work email inbox, which has nearly 600 messages in and to which I have to periodically sacrifice small furry animals in order to keep it appeased.
I'm bored enough to start contemplating inventing new numbers beyond infinity ("smidge" is my favourite so far, which is however much you're thinking of, plus a little bit; or possibly "yelp" which is for the sound you make when you realise quite how high the number is). This is for the purposes of being able to say that, on a scale of 1 to 10 of being bored, I'm at about insert invented number here. Then I can watch people's faces when I say it and no longer be bored, for at least three seconds.
*sigh*
Normally at this point, I demand drabble prompts but I'm almost too bored for that...
Nah, I'm not ;) Prompt away! Or you can demand an extract from one of my works in progress (list under the cut). Demand something from one of my non-regular fandoms (list under other cut). Demand anything that might stop my brain from dribbling out of my ears before the end of the day!
It may take me a while to get through requests, as I am determined to demolish at least one pile of books by the end of the day. As said pile is three feet high, I may be here a while.
I've written in House, Criminal Minds and Doctor Who/Torchwood. I could potentially write in:
Observant readers may also notice that I have recently mastered the 'list' coding and am taking the opportunity to use it as often as possible.
ETA: Article in newspaper saying that the interest rates on student loans are doubling. Yes, doubling. Seriously not good.
On the plus side, next week BBC7 are broadcasting the play "Only a matter of time", which I heard about 5 years ago and was just wondering about yesterday. It's one of the best pieces of radio comedy-drama I've ever heard and has stayed with me for all this time. Listen if you can!
Also, comment notifications? Not working *prods LJ* so further delays may occurr...
I am boooooooooored out of my (fairly) tiny mind. The backlog of cataloguing just keeps getting longer, not shorter, which is just wrong as I'm actually doing work here. I'm just not getting any credit for it, which is wrong.
I'm bored enough to contemplate tunnelling my way out and I work on the 1st/2nd* *delete as appropriate for your side of the Atlantic floor.
I'm bored enough that I'm thinking about sorting my work email inbox, which has nearly 600 messages in and to which I have to periodically sacrifice small furry animals in order to keep it appeased.
I'm bored enough to start contemplating inventing new numbers beyond infinity ("smidge" is my favourite so far, which is however much you're thinking of, plus a little bit; or possibly "yelp" which is for the sound you make when you realise quite how high the number is). This is for the purposes of being able to say that, on a scale of 1 to 10 of being bored, I'm at about insert invented number here. Then I can watch people's faces when I say it and no longer be bored, for at least three seconds.
*sigh*
Normally at this point, I demand drabble prompts but I'm almost too bored for that...
Nah, I'm not ;) Prompt away! Or you can demand an extract from one of my works in progress (list under the cut). Demand something from one of my non-regular fandoms (list under other cut). Demand anything that might stop my brain from dribbling out of my ears before the end of the day!
It may take me a while to get through requests, as I am determined to demolish at least one pile of books by the end of the day. As said pile is three feet high, I may be here a while.
I've written in House, Criminal Minds and Doctor Who/Torchwood. I could potentially write in:
Observant readers may also notice that I have recently mastered the 'list' coding and am taking the opportunity to use it as often as possible.
ETA: Article in newspaper saying that the interest rates on student loans are doubling. Yes, doubling. Seriously not good.
On the plus side, next week BBC7 are broadcasting the play "Only a matter of time", which I heard about 5 years ago and was just wondering about yesterday. It's one of the best pieces of radio comedy-drama I've ever heard and has stayed with me for all this time. Listen if you can!
Also, comment notifications? Not working *prods LJ* so further delays may occurr...
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Drabble - I'd like Ianto/OMC please. And yes, that is a slash there *evil grin* I don't know why, but I'm in a real Ianto-is-manwhore place at the moment. Which is making writing happy!Jack/Ianto incredibly difficult, cos Ianto keeps checking out other men/women while Jack sits there sulking and going 'but I'm pretty! Look at me!'
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OMC. Another OMC? You'll be wanting jealous!Jack in there as well next....
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You can re-use one of my OMCs if you want, or one of yours. Or an entirely new and shiny one...
And if you want to give me jealous!Jack on the sidelines, who am I to argue?
(and if you'd like to write a ficlet rather than a drabble, y'know, that would be nice...*feeds bunnies carrots* ;))
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This is also what happens when you and Chrys start talking about hot baths...
Scrubbing
Jack didn't make a habit of dropping in on his staff uninvited, but there were times when it couldn't be helped. Besides, it was a Wednesday night, not exactly big-date-night or hitting-the-bars-night or-
Ianto opened the door in a towel. Just a towel. Well, okay, so there were some droplets of water still clinging to his chest but basically, there was just a towel.
When he'd picked his jaw up off the floor, Jack grinned. "You expecting me?"
"Do you need something, sir?" There was definite impatience to Ianto's tone, as well as something that suggested he wasn't just annoyed about his bath water getting cold. This could be even more fun that Jack had thought.
"You brought the Bressil papers home with you and I need them for tomorrow's meeting with UNIT."
"That meeting's in London ." Ianto started to glance at his wrist, apparently only just realising that not only was he not wearing his watch, but that he wasn't wearing much of anything else either. And that the non-existent-watch checking was making the towel flap.
"I'm going to drive up overnight, but I need those papers."
With a sigh, Ianto stepped back. "You'd better come in."
Jack had only been over Ianto's threshold twice since he'd been at Torchwood Three, but the flat was as neat and tidy as he remembered. Through the archway to the kitchen, he could see plates and glasses draining on the rack next to the sink. Two sets of plates and glasses.
Two sets of plates and glasses and Ianto in nothing but a towel, with his hair all wet and mussed and a decidedly pink tinge to his ears. Really, there was only one question left
"Here you are, sir." Ianto had replaced the towel with a dressing gown, but the effect was, if anything, even better. Taking the proffered files with a smile, Jack said,
"Thanks. Well, I'll let you get on with your evening."
"Thank you, sir."
It took real effort to keep a straight face. The relief in Ianto's voice nearly tipped him over the edge, but Jack was having too much fun to let it stop now.
"Sorry to ask, but could I just use your bathroom before I go? I've got a long drive ahead of me." Was that panic or sheer mortification that passed through Ianto's eyes? Either way, Jack was almost sorry. Only almost. "It's this way, isn't it?" he asked, heading down the corridor.
cont...
Ianto was about three seconds too late. Jack pushed open the bathroom door, with his best 'hello' grin on his face. The man in the bath grinned back.
"Hi there."
"Hello." Jack did not look over his shoulder to see Ianto's face. It really wasn't necessary. "Do you mind if I..." He gestured across the room.
"Course not." Still grinning, the bather pulled the shower curtain across. "Give you a bit of privacy."
"Right." Turning, Jack closed the door, giving Ianto a final waggle of his eyebrows as he did so. "Privacy."
When Jack emerged from the bathroom, Ianto was sitting on his sofa, head in his hands. Feeling just a twinge of guilt, Jack clapped him on the shoulder.
"So that's why you've got such a big bath."
"Is there any chance that I'm ever going to live this down?" Ianto didn't look up, his voice muffled.
"Probably. Just be glad I'm not Owen. He'd have probably jumped in there too."
"You didn't." Finally lifting his head, Ianto frowned. "You didn't," he said again, this time with more surprise.
"I've got to get to London." Jack waved the folder again. "Remember?"
"Right."
Ianto trailed after Jack as he headed for the door, coming to a dead stop and leaning backwards as Jack suddenly turned, waving the folder under his nose.
"But next time you need someone to scrub your back, you know where I am."
"Yes, sir." There was a glimmer of hope in Ianto's eyes, as though he'd realised he might survive the next day without dying of embarrassment. "I'll bear that in mind."
Jack waited until he was half in the car, looking back at Ianto, who was still standing in the doorway. Then he called out,
"And I prefer showers!"
He turned on the engine, drowning out Ianto's reply. There was already more than enough to keep him entertained on the long drive to London.
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Glad you liked - this was a bright spot in the day from hell :)
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*grins*