Title: The Eleventh Day…
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Owen, team, OCs
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 303 – Twelve Days at tw100
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Random insanity.
Summary: It’s Christmas, and the Rift is apparently in a giving mood…
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Part 11 of ‘The Twelve Days of Riftmas’.
There are two again today. The first one I wrote wouldn’t go right, but I’ve included it as an alternate Day Eleven. I like the new one better as it shows the cumulative effect the last ten days have had on poor Ianto…
This will also be my last drabble posted this year. I'd originally hoped to write and post 100 drabbles over the course of 2013, but I flew past that total and aimed for 200 instead. The final number of drabbles posted over the year is 204. However, some were double or even quadruple drabbles, which brings the total up to 217. In 2014, I'll be aiming to post 250. Note that I'm not saying write and post this time. I still have almost 30 drabbles written in the last month for prompts from my friends that I simply haven't had time to post, so they'll get posted next year. Happy New Year, everybody!
On the eleventh day of Christmas, Torchwood found themselves dealing with eleven very irate pipe-layers and half a mile of the pipeline they’d been building in Texas.
Ianto took one look, threw both hands in the air and announced, “That’s it, I’m going home, somebody else can sort this one out.”
Jack looked at the muscular men for a moment, clearly wrestling with temptation, then chased after Ianto, catching up just as he reached the SUV.
“Ianto? Wait, please! I’ll be your slave for a week if you just help me sort this out!”
Ianto hesitated.
“My slave? Well… alright.”
Alternate Eleventh Day
On the eleventh day of Christmas, eleven blonde girls materialised in the Millennium Centre, all talking excitedly at once. Naturally, Torchwood were called to investigate.
After speaking to them, Ianto rejoined the team.
“Apparently they’re contestants in a Billie Piper lookalike contest.”
Owen frowned.
“Who’s Billie Piper?”
Ianto shrugged.
“Search me. Jack? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. They seem vaguely familiar, I just can’t think why.”
“Maybe it’s because they look alike.”
“Maybe,” Jack agreed, then brightened. “Tosh thinks she can send them home.”
“Thank God,” Ianto muttered, wandering away, “Just one more day and this insanity will be over.”
TBC in ‘The Twelfth Day…’