Characters: Ianto, Jack, Owen, Others.
Summary: It’s the first nice day of the year and Ianto is gloomy because he’s unable to enjoy it.
Word Count: 500
Content Notes: None necessary.
Written For: Prompt 85: Bright at anythingdrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Usually, a bright, sunny morning like this would be welcome, but today it felt to Ianto like a particularly cruel joke. It had been grey, cold, and rainy for weeks; figured that the first truly pleasant day of the year Ianto would be confined to the Hub, unable to enjoy the good weather because of a stupid alien infection. He’d most likely caught it from the pet Ooblix belonging to the Gilvern he and Jack had assisted the previous week.
The creature had given Ianto what its owner had called a ‘playful nip’, resulting in nine stitches to his left hand. The injury had been inconvenient enough, but this morning Ianto had awoken to discover he was covered head to toe in greenish warts from which sprouted tufts of bright purple bristles. He was not a pretty sight.
Aside from the itchiness of the warts, a headache, and sore muscles Ianto felt fine, if a bit tired, but he didn’t dare go out in public. While the disease didn’t appear to be airborne or spread by touch, it would be irresponsible to risk infecting the whole of Cardiff, which meant that he was stuck indoors listening to his teammates going on about what a beautiful spring day it was, sunny and warm with bright blue skies.
Ianto was almost sure the rest of the team weren’t intentionally trying to make him feel worse, but the fact remained that they were. He wanted to be out there enjoying the sunshine, not stuck underground in the greyness of the Hub, dressed in loose track pants and an oversized t-shirt belonging to Jack, and limping about his duties because the warts on the soles of his feet hurt.
Having examined Ianto, taken swabs and samples from the warts, and run a full scan on him, Owen had ordered him to take a bath in salt water. Then he’d prescribed a seven-day course of an alien antibiotic that, to add insult to injury, had turned Ianto’s eyes, fingernails, and toenails bright pink. That did nothing to improve his appearance.
Moping his way to the sofa with a cup of coffee, Ianto sank down gingerly onto the cushions. Even loose clothing tended to rub uncomfortably against the warts, catching on their purple bristles and pulling painfully if he wasn’t careful.
“Are you alright?” Jack asked, coming to sit beside him, but careful not to so much as brush against him.
“Do I look alright?” Ianto snapped, feeling grumpy and ugly and hard done by.
“Owen thinks the antibiotics should have the infection cleared up in less than a week.”
“Fat lot of good that’ll do me,” Ianto grumped. “By then it’ll be raining again and I’ll have missed all the good weather cooped up where the sun don’t shine.”
“Is that why you’re so grouchy? That’s easily fixed.”
“How? I can’t go out looking like this!”
“We’ll go to the Torchwood Reservation; no one will see you there,” Jack said.
Ianto brightened. “Lead the way!”