Characters: Ianto, Jack.
Summary: Jack isn’t always as careful as he might be.
Word Count: 577
Content Notes: None necessary.
Written For: Challenge 36: Sharp at beattheblackdog.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
“Be careful with that, it’s…” Ianto trailed off as Jack started to swear in several languages, shaking his hand, bright blood splattering across everything. Ianto sighed, rolled his eyes, and finished his sentence. “Sharp. You know, if you actually tried listening to me for once, you could avoid a lot of unnecessary injuries,” he added conversationally.
“It’s fine, healing already, see?” Jack replied, holding out his hand to display a deep gash that grew shallower and smaller before Ianto’s eyes. “No big deal.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Ianto told his lover, voice heavy with sarcasm. “Now thanks to you waving your hand about, there’s blood everywhere, which I will no doubt be expected to clean up, as if I didn’t already have enough to do.” He folded his arms over his chest and treated Jack to an exasperated glare.
Looking around him, Jack noticed for the first time the drops and splashes of blood decorating the walls, floor, cupboards, and even the ceiling of Ianto’s new kitchen, and winced. “Sorry, I wasn’t exactly thinking, it was an automatic reaction to the pain.”
“That’s one of your worst faults, you know; you never think, you just bypass your brain and act.”
“I don’t mean to,” Jack defended himself. “It’s just that I’m used to having to react to threats immediately, there’s not always time to think things through first.”
“Well, obviously you’ve got it down to a fine art.” Ianto’s tone was dry as dust.
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“Can’t you tell?”
“Ouch! I think that hurts worse than the… whatever it was.” Jack turned to the cupboard beneath the sink. “Look, I made the mess, it’s my blood, so I’ll clean it up. You can just go on with whatever it was you were doing when I came in.” Jack got out the Dettol wipes, pulled a couple out of the packet, and set to work, Ianto watching him curiously.
“Now that’s something I never thought I’d see. Wonders will never cease! Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”
“Ha ha.” Jack’s voice came from under the kitchen table where he was mopping up blood splashes.
“Don’t forget the table legs.”
Ianto couldn’t quite make out Jack’s response to that, so he just shrugged and got on with his repairs. He’d only moved into the house a few weeks earlier and there was still a lot that needed to be done. Concentrating on what he was doing, he was only vaguely aware of Jack bustling about, cleaning up the blood, until after borrowing the stepladder to reach the ceiling, Jack came back down, catching something on the floor with his foot and sending it skittering across the tiles.
Jack went after it immediately, like a dog chasing a stick, practically pouncing on it before it could come to a stop, even as Ianto cried out once more, “Careful! It’s…”
“OW! Damnit!” Jack yelped.
“…still sharp,” Ianto finished with a resigned sigh. He rolled his eyes again. Cutting himself twice with the same thing in the space of an hour had to be a record, even for Jack. “You never learn, do you?” he asked, watching Jack sucking on the fingers he’d just sliced open.
“Mmph,” Jack replied, looking up at Ianto mournfully, fingers still jammed in his mouth.
“Well, at least this time you didn’t bleed over everything, so I suppose that could be considered progress.
Clearly, it was just going to be one of those days.