Fic: Trampled
Title: Trampled
Author:
badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Owen.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1312
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Poor Ianto is suffering from another uniquely Torchwood injury.
Written For: Challenge 361: Foot at
fan_flashworks.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
“If anyone’s expecting us to foot the bill for this, they can think again,” Ianto snarled. “This was NOT our fault!”
“I agree.” Jack was trying his best to calm his irate boyfriend, but without noticeable success. He wasn’t sure Ianto was even listening to him.
“We did NOT invite that hulking brute into the council offices! We have zero control over where the Rift decides to dump things; our lives would be a whole lot simpler if we only did!”
“I know, and I’ve told the mayor that, on multiple occasions.”
“If you’ve told him, then why does he insist on laying the blame at our door every single time something like this happens?” Ianto turned his head so fast he almost headbutted Jack on the nose. Jack jerked back just in time, nearly throwing them both off balance in the process.
“Because Torchwood is a secret organisation. Every time I explain it to him, you tell me I have to Retcon him.”
“Oh. Right.” Some of the anger went out of Ianto as he took another hobbling step forwards, making for the sofa beneath the Torchwood sign, Jack’s arm around his waist steadying him.
“Almost there,” Jack assured him. “You’ll be sitting down before you know it.” He sensibly refrained from mentioning they’d both be sitting down by now if Ianto had just allowed himself to be carried. He didn’t want to be on the receiving end of another death glare; one a day was more than enough. “Once I’ve got you settled Owen can take a look at your foot.”
“I’m not sure I want him to,” Ianto admitted. “I’d have to take my shoe off, and I’m worried my toes might come off with it.”
“I don’t think that’s very likely.” Jack did his best to sound reassuring but wasn’t particularly successful.
“How would you know? Have you ever had a woolly mammoth step on your toes?”
“Well, no… But it was only a little one! Not much bigger than a cow, and I’ve been trampled by a few cows in my time.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Ianto muttered, rolling his eyes. “In case you didn’t notice, cows have much smaller feet than woolly mammoths do. My toes could be squashed flat! I might never walk normally again!”
“It won’t come to that, I promise, even if I have to ask the Doctor to take you to the future for treatment when he gets back from giving our visitor a ride home. Here we go.” Jack lowered Ianto carefully onto the sofa’s lumpy cushions and helped him lift his damaged foot onto the coffee table.
“Feet don’t belong on tables,” Ianto protested. “It’s unhygienic! We eat off that!”
“I’ll thoroughly disinfect it for you later, if you insist, but Owen’s going to need your foot where he can get at it, unless you want to have him crawling around on the floor. While I admit that might be entertaining, I doubt he’d be able to do his best work that way, and it would annoy him, which I don’t think would be good for your foot.”
Ianto huffed. “Well, alright, when you put it that way.”
“What kept you?” Owen came stomping up from the medical bay, carrying the Bekaran scanner and a few other bits and pieces of medical equipment.
“I can’t walk very fast with crushed toes; so sorry if you find that inconvenient!” Ianto glared balefully at the medic.
Owen shrugged, turning to Jack. “You should’ve just slung ‘im over your shoulder. Would’ve been quicker.”
“I was going to, but Ianto threatened dire consequences if I tried, and I didn’t want to be served cheap instant decaf for the next month.”
“I’m perfectly willing to serve it to you though, Owen,” Ianto added pointedly
Owen ignored the threat. “Right, let’s take a look at your foot.” Wielding a formidable looking laser scalpel, he leaned forward. Alarmed, Ianto tried to pull his injured foot back.
“It’s not that bad; you don’t need to amputate!”
As always, Owen’s bedside manner was somewhat lacking. “It’s to cut your bloody shoe off, not your foot, moron. Why would I amputate before I even examine you?”
If anything, rather than reassuring him that news just made Ianto even more irate. “You can’t be serious! Do you have any idea how much these shoes cost?”
“They’re already ruined,” Jack pointed out, trying to placate his lover. “The leather’s split.”
Ianto had been avoiding looking at his trampled foot, not wanting to see any evidence of serious damage, but now he leaned forward to peer at it.
“Oh.” On the plus side, there was no sign of blood seeping out of the mangled shoe, so maybe that meant his toes were still attached. That was some small consolation, but still… “Bugger. I really liked these shoes.”
Jack smiled encouragingly. “The other one’s okay.”
If that was supposed to make Ianto feel better, it didn’t.
“And exactly how much use is half a pair of shoes, Jack?”
“You’ll only need to wear one shoe while your other foot’s healing, won’t you?”
“Oh, thanks.”
Using the short laser blade, Owen deftly removed the sole of the ruined shoe, then sliced the upper away piece by piece. Ianto slumped back against the cushions and covered his eyes with one forearm, not wanting to watch the wanton destruction of Italian leather. He didn’t particularly want to see his mangled foot either; it was throbbing in time with his heartbeat.
Snipping Ianto’s sock away with a pair of scissors, Owen unveiled the damage. There was a fair amount of swelling, three of Ianto’s toenails were already turning black, and there were traces of blood where one had been partially torn from the nail bed, but all five toes were still where they should be.
“Don’t know what you’re making such a fuss about; that doesn’t look so bad.” Setting the scissors aside, Owen picked up the scanner and ran it over Ianto’s foot. “Try wiggling your toes.”
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Ianto did as he was told, and his abused toes twitched feebly.
“They moved!” Sitting beside his lover, Jack squeezed Ianto’s hand. “They’re okay!”
“They don’t feel okay.”
“Looks like you’ll live.” Owen didn’t sound particularly cheerful about that. “Probably lose a few toenails, but nothing’s broken. Ice your foot, take painkillers, and I’ll dig out a pair of crutches. You should try to avoid puttin’ weight on that foot for a few days, just until the swelling goes down.”
Lowering his arm, Ianto leaned forward again, cautiously inspecting the damage and counting his toes. The foot looked sore and puffy, bruises blossoming across the top, but it was miraculously in one piece.
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“I’m sure Woolly didn’t mean to tread on your foot. She was just scared.” Jack defended the displaced creature.
Ianto sighed. Trampled by a baby mammoth; such was life with Torchwood. “I suppose I’m lucky I didn’t get impaled on a tusk.”
Owen huffed as he gathered his equipment. “Wish you had. At least that would’ve been an injury worth my time.”
“You’re never happy unless there’s blood, are you?”
“I’d be happier if you lot would just stop getting hurt altogether.” Owen stalked off in search of the promised crutches.
“You stay there while I get you some ice.” Jack patted Ianto’s knee and headed after Owen.
“Right, because I was just about to go jogging,” Ianto replied sarcastically; not that Jack heard him. He reached forward and tentatively poked at his foot, wincing. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to put a sock on it, never mind a shoe. “Half a pair of shoes it is then.”
Maybe he’d keep the odd one, just in case he ever needed it again, although with his luck, it would probably be the other foot next time.
The End
Author:
badly_knittedCharacters: Ianto, Jack, Owen.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1312
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Poor Ianto is suffering from another uniquely Torchwood injury.
Written For: Challenge 361: Foot at
fan_flashworks.Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
“If anyone’s expecting us to foot the bill for this, they can think again,” Ianto snarled. “This was NOT our fault!”
“I agree.” Jack was trying his best to calm his irate boyfriend, but without noticeable success. He wasn’t sure Ianto was even listening to him.
“We did NOT invite that hulking brute into the council offices! We have zero control over where the Rift decides to dump things; our lives would be a whole lot simpler if we only did!”
“I know, and I’ve told the mayor that, on multiple occasions.”
“If you’ve told him, then why does he insist on laying the blame at our door every single time something like this happens?” Ianto turned his head so fast he almost headbutted Jack on the nose. Jack jerked back just in time, nearly throwing them both off balance in the process.
“Because Torchwood is a secret organisation. Every time I explain it to him, you tell me I have to Retcon him.”
“Oh. Right.” Some of the anger went out of Ianto as he took another hobbling step forwards, making for the sofa beneath the Torchwood sign, Jack’s arm around his waist steadying him.
“Almost there,” Jack assured him. “You’ll be sitting down before you know it.” He sensibly refrained from mentioning they’d both be sitting down by now if Ianto had just allowed himself to be carried. He didn’t want to be on the receiving end of another death glare; one a day was more than enough. “Once I’ve got you settled Owen can take a look at your foot.”
“I’m not sure I want him to,” Ianto admitted. “I’d have to take my shoe off, and I’m worried my toes might come off with it.”
“I don’t think that’s very likely.” Jack did his best to sound reassuring but wasn’t particularly successful.
“How would you know? Have you ever had a woolly mammoth step on your toes?”
“Well, no… But it was only a little one! Not much bigger than a cow, and I’ve been trampled by a few cows in my time.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Ianto muttered, rolling his eyes. “In case you didn’t notice, cows have much smaller feet than woolly mammoths do. My toes could be squashed flat! I might never walk normally again!”
“It won’t come to that, I promise, even if I have to ask the Doctor to take you to the future for treatment when he gets back from giving our visitor a ride home. Here we go.” Jack lowered Ianto carefully onto the sofa’s lumpy cushions and helped him lift his damaged foot onto the coffee table.
“Feet don’t belong on tables,” Ianto protested. “It’s unhygienic! We eat off that!”
“I’ll thoroughly disinfect it for you later, if you insist, but Owen’s going to need your foot where he can get at it, unless you want to have him crawling around on the floor. While I admit that might be entertaining, I doubt he’d be able to do his best work that way, and it would annoy him, which I don’t think would be good for your foot.”
Ianto huffed. “Well, alright, when you put it that way.”
“What kept you?” Owen came stomping up from the medical bay, carrying the Bekaran scanner and a few other bits and pieces of medical equipment.
“I can’t walk very fast with crushed toes; so sorry if you find that inconvenient!” Ianto glared balefully at the medic.
Owen shrugged, turning to Jack. “You should’ve just slung ‘im over your shoulder. Would’ve been quicker.”
“I was going to, but Ianto threatened dire consequences if I tried, and I didn’t want to be served cheap instant decaf for the next month.”
“I’m perfectly willing to serve it to you though, Owen,” Ianto added pointedly
Owen ignored the threat. “Right, let’s take a look at your foot.” Wielding a formidable looking laser scalpel, he leaned forward. Alarmed, Ianto tried to pull his injured foot back.
“It’s not that bad; you don’t need to amputate!”
As always, Owen’s bedside manner was somewhat lacking. “It’s to cut your bloody shoe off, not your foot, moron. Why would I amputate before I even examine you?”
If anything, rather than reassuring him that news just made Ianto even more irate. “You can’t be serious! Do you have any idea how much these shoes cost?”
“They’re already ruined,” Jack pointed out, trying to placate his lover. “The leather’s split.”
Ianto had been avoiding looking at his trampled foot, not wanting to see any evidence of serious damage, but now he leaned forward to peer at it.
“Oh.” On the plus side, there was no sign of blood seeping out of the mangled shoe, so maybe that meant his toes were still attached. That was some small consolation, but still… “Bugger. I really liked these shoes.”
Jack smiled encouragingly. “The other one’s okay.”
If that was supposed to make Ianto feel better, it didn’t.
“And exactly how much use is half a pair of shoes, Jack?”
“You’ll only need to wear one shoe while your other foot’s healing, won’t you?”
“Oh, thanks.”
Using the short laser blade, Owen deftly removed the sole of the ruined shoe, then sliced the upper away piece by piece. Ianto slumped back against the cushions and covered his eyes with one forearm, not wanting to watch the wanton destruction of Italian leather. He didn’t particularly want to see his mangled foot either; it was throbbing in time with his heartbeat.
Snipping Ianto’s sock away with a pair of scissors, Owen unveiled the damage. There was a fair amount of swelling, three of Ianto’s toenails were already turning black, and there were traces of blood where one had been partially torn from the nail bed, but all five toes were still where they should be.
“Don’t know what you’re making such a fuss about; that doesn’t look so bad.” Setting the scissors aside, Owen picked up the scanner and ran it over Ianto’s foot. “Try wiggling your toes.”
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Ianto did as he was told, and his abused toes twitched feebly.
“They moved!” Sitting beside his lover, Jack squeezed Ianto’s hand. “They’re okay!”
“They don’t feel okay.”
“Looks like you’ll live.” Owen didn’t sound particularly cheerful about that. “Probably lose a few toenails, but nothing’s broken. Ice your foot, take painkillers, and I’ll dig out a pair of crutches. You should try to avoid puttin’ weight on that foot for a few days, just until the swelling goes down.”
Lowering his arm, Ianto leaned forward again, cautiously inspecting the damage and counting his toes. The foot looked sore and puffy, bruises blossoming across the top, but it was miraculously in one piece.
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“I’m sure Woolly didn’t mean to tread on your foot. She was just scared.” Jack defended the displaced creature.
Ianto sighed. Trampled by a baby mammoth; such was life with Torchwood. “I suppose I’m lucky I didn’t get impaled on a tusk.”
Owen huffed as he gathered his equipment. “Wish you had. At least that would’ve been an injury worth my time.”
“You’re never happy unless there’s blood, are you?”
“I’d be happier if you lot would just stop getting hurt altogether.” Owen stalked off in search of the promised crutches.
“You stay there while I get you some ice.” Jack patted Ianto’s knee and headed after Owen.
“Right, because I was just about to go jogging,” Ianto replied sarcastically; not that Jack heard him. He reached forward and tentatively poked at his foot, wincing. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to put a sock on it, never mind a shoe. “Half a pair of shoes it is then.”
Maybe he’d keep the odd one, just in case he ever needed it again, although with his luck, it would probably be the other foot next time.
The End