Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen.
Summary: Jack’s vanity takes a bit of a knock.
Word Count: 643
Written For: m_findlow’s prompt ‘Any, any, it takes a lot to look this good,’ at fic_promptly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
Ianto stuck his head into the bathroom. “Are you through staring at yourself yet?”
“Huh?” Jack didn't take his eyes off the mirror as he painstakingly styled his hair so that it flopped in exactly the right careless manner.
“You really are vain, aren't you?” Ianto said, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe and watching his lover with an amused smile.
“It’s not vanity! I’ll have you know it takes a lot of hard work to look this good!”
“I’ve noticed.” Leaving the doorway, Ianto ambled over, hands in pockets, and peered over Jack’s shoulder at the other man’s refection. “Is that a grey hair?”
“What? Where?” Jack leaned in closer to the mirror, frantically searching.
Ianto laughed. “Kidding!”
“Why you…” Spinning around, Jack grabbed for his boyfriend, but Ianto was already out the door.
“Hurry up or we’ll be late for work.”
“Coming,” Jack replied distractedly, checking the mirror again, just in case Ianto hadn’t been kidding about the grey hair. Maybe he should start dying it, just in case… No, that wouldn’t work; he’d just reset the next time he died. Sighing, he checked his teeth; wouldn’t do to flash his famous smile at someone with something stuck between them. They were as perfect as ever though and he smiled widely. “You handsome devil!” Satisfied, he strode out of the bathroom to where Ianto was waiting with his coat.
“Should I be jealous?” Ianto asked, teasing.
“Never. You’re the only one for me!” Jack leant in for a quick kiss.
“That’s reassuring to know. Come on, doesn’t do for the boss to get in late! Who knows what the others are getting up to?” Car keys in hand, Ianto led the way out the door.
The day ended up being a long and hard one, which wasn’t unusual for Torchwood. With the team kept busy, coming and going at random intervals, dealing with a mixture of Rift alerts, rogue Weevils, and an ongoing investigation into the source of a new drug on the streets that could be of alien origin, Ianto barely saw Jack all day. He finally trailed in with Gwen late in the afternoon, looking rather the worse for wear. Ianto did his best to keep a straight face, but judging by the hurt look Jack gave him, he wasn’t very successful.
“What happened to you?”
Jack pouted harder, leaving Gwen to answer. “The thing we were looking for was a bit unstable. When it started making a weird noise, Jack shoved me out of the way and it… sort of blew up in his face.”
“It won’t come off!” Jack whined plaintively.
“Got most of it off his clothes and face easily enough,” Gwen added, “but it’s sort of stuck to his hair. I tried water, but that just made it spread.”
“What am I going to do?” Jack wailed.
“It doesn’t look bad, except for it being so uneven. You should probably take a shower,” Ianto told him calmly.
Jack stared at Ianto as if he’d been told to cut off his head. “Didn’t you hear Gwen? Water makes it spread!”
“Precisely. Better to be all one colour instead of looking like a monochrome rainbow with random stripes in different shades. Think of it as poetic justice; bet you’re not worried about the possibility of a single grey hair now.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t. Come on; let’s see what we can do about evening things up a bit. Silver hair can be very sexy.”
“You really think so?” Jack asked uncertainly.
“Have you seen Mark Harmon? Total hottie.”
“But you were laughing when you saw me!”
“Your hair is stripy; of course I was laughing. Trust me, it’ll be fine, I’m sure it’ll wear off eventually.” Ianto steered Jack towards his quarters, smiling placidly. Perhaps this would teach Jack not to be quite so vain.