Characters: Ianto, Jack, Nosy, Team.
Summary: Something occurs to Ianto that he’d never thought about before, leaving him puzzled.
Word Count: 500
Content Notes: None necessary.
Written For: Prompt 93: Wear at anythingdrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Arriving back at the Hub, carrying several bulky bags after running a few errands, Ianto was deeply thankful that Cardiff still boasted an excellent old-fashioned cobbler, well versed in re-soling and re-heeling everything from his own dress shoes to Jack’s heavy work boots. He had a pair of each in one of his bags that, without the services of a cobbler, would have needed to be replaced rather than simply repaired.
If Torchwood was hard on the legs and feet of its operatives, it was even harder on their footwear. It wasn’t just chasing Weevils through the city’s streets and alleys, or trekking through the countryside, that produced the wear and tear he’d just had remedied either. The Hub itself, with its metal gratings, catwalks, endless stairs, and uneven concrete floors was equally responsible. Humanity had yet to invent anything that could withstand such abuse for more than three months; Owen went through at least five pairs of trainers a year, and that was without including the ones that got ruined by leakages from his various autopsy subjects.
Dropping off part of his burden in Jack’s office, Ianto made his way towards the kitchenette with the groceries he’d picked up as Nosy slithered past him, humming a greeting.
Ianto paused, frowning, his gaze following the Fluff as it went on about its business, apparently carrying out some errands of its own, fetching and carrying things for other members of the team. It liked to make itself useful in any way it could, and was becoming almost as good as Ianto at knowing what its friends needed and providing it without them having to ask, carrying things in the plastic basket Ianto had gifted Nosy with soon after its arrival.
“Something up with Nosy?” Jack asked, coming to join his lover watching the Fluff deliver a fresh pack of manila folders and a pen to Tosh, and a bottle of water to Owen.
“No, it’s just… Nosy’s been here almost six months, right?”
“About that long, give or take,” Jack agreed. “Why?”
“And in that time, we’ve had to get our shoes repaired three times.”
“You’d know that better than me.” Jack had three almost identical pairs of boots and simply put on whichever pair was closest to hand when he got dressed.
“What I mean is, they get worn down walking on this every day.” Ianto tapped his foot on the concrete. “It’s abrasive.”
“So?” Jack still didn’t understand what Ianto was on about.
“Nosy has fur all over, underneath as well as on top.”
Jack nodded. “Fluffs are fluffy all over.”
“Then how come the fur on its underside doesn’t wear away from the friction of slithering across rough concrete all day, leaving it bald underneath?”
“Huh.” Now Jack was frowning too. “I never thought of that.”
“Neither did I until just now,” Ianto admitted.
Nosy slithered past in the opposite direction and the two men watched it go.
Jack sighed. “Another mystery that will probably never be solved.”