Characters: Jack, Ianto, OCs.
Summary: There’s still a lot about earth that’s a mystery to Jack, but Ianto’s trying to educate him.
Word Count: 475
Written For: My own prompt ‘Torchwood, Ianto Jones, Wishing Well,’ at fic_promptly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC
Despite the amount of time Jack had lived on earth, there were quite a few things he’d managed to avoid becoming acquainted with. Ianto supposed he’d been too busy working for Torchwood, and fighting in every war that came along, to experience the finer things of life. Or maybe it was because he’d spent his childhood somewhere else, so that many of the things Ianto associated with his own childhood had passed his lover by.
Things like Saturday morning cartoons, and building blanket forts, jumping in puddles, and scrunching through autumn leaves. Things like this.
“What is that quaint little house thing?”
Ianto rolled his eyes. “It’s a wishing well, Jack. Haven’t you ever seen one before?”
“Nope! What does it do? Or is it just supposed to look pretty?”
“You drop a coin down it and make a wish.”
“And the wish comes true?”
“Like all wishes, sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t.”
“If they don’t, do you get your money back?”
“Don’t be daft. You can’t expect wishes to come true just like that anyway.” Ianto snapped his fingers. “Sometimes they take a while.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
Ianto dug a coin out of his pocket, tossing it into the well, and after a moment there was a faint splash as it hit the water. He closed his eyes, making a wish.
“What did you wish for?” Jack asked when he opened them again.
“That’s not how it’s done, Jack. You must never tell anyone what you wished or it definitely won’t come true.”
“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t know that.”
Before he could say anything else, Ianto’s phone rang. He pulled it out, checked caller id and groaned. “It’s my sister. Sorry, got to take this.” He wandered away, phone pressed to his ear, as Jack turned back to the wishing well.
A few minutes later, as Ianto was arguing with Rhi, who wanted his guarantee that he’d go over to hers for Sunday dinner when he couldn’t even be sure of what he’d be doing in an hour, never mind in three days time, there was an almighty splash. Spinning around, Ianto looked for Jack, but there was no sign of him. His heart sank.
“Sorry, Rhi, gotta go, I think my boyfriend just fell in the wishing well…”
Even as he went to hang up, he heard Rhi’s distant, tinny voice shouting, “Your who did what?”
“Crap, I think I just outed myself,” he muttered as he hurried back to the well and peered in. “Jack, what the hell did you do?”
Far below, Jack was treading water. “I just wanted to see my coin hit the water, but I lost my balance,” he explained.
“Of course you did,” Ianto said with a resigned sigh. “Hang on, I’ll get a rope.”
A few minutes later, returning to the well with a coil of rope slung over his shoulder, he heard a small boy saying to his mother, “I made a wish, and the wishing well spoke to me!”
“What did it say?” the boy’s mother asked indulgently.
“Well, first it said ‘Ow’, then it asked what my wish was, and then it said it would see what it could do!” The little boy’s eyes were wide with wonder; Ianto couldn’t help grinning.
The mother must have noticed, because she smiled ruefully. “He has a very vivid imagination.”
“Imagination is a good thing,” Ianto replied, smiling back at her, then hurried on his way to rescue Jack and find out just what kind of wish his lover had all but promised to grant. He hoped it was something doable.