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gracie_musica) wrote2009-01-18 12:13 am
gracie_musica) wrote2009-01-18 12:13 am
Entry tags:
Torchwood -- Fortune Telling
Title: Fortune Telling
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redismycolour Challenge: Day Thirteen
Date Written: 1/17/09
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 646
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Gwen/Rhys, Myfanwy
Spoilers: Post Exit Wounds
Warnings: None
Author Notes: I didn't want to do normal "everyone goes on vacation" theme for this one. I was thinking of doing an Imbolc fic, but then I found this holiday.
Welsh Winter Holidays
Ianto loved Gwen. He did. She reminded him a lot of his sister, all heart and determination and enthusiasm and stubborn Welsh pride.
She just didn't fully think things through a whole hell of a lot.
"So. I've been thinking," she announced one morning when Ianto handed over her coffee.
"Words that instill fear into my heart," Ianto said.
He was only half joking.
She gave him a glare. "I was thinking about Mary's Festival of the Candles."
Ianto raised an eyebrow, motioning for her to continue.
"They used to have this tradition where they'd do a sort of fortune-telling, to see how long they'd live. I thought maybe we'd do that, give Jack a bit of Welsh culture, yeah?"
Jack had once admitted to Gwen and Ianto, after much prodding and poking and missed conversations in Welsh, that the reason why he didn't know the culture he'd lived in for over 100 years was because he hadn't expected to wait all that terribly long. It was fun to visit but he was waiting for his train. The two had decided right then and there that their Captain was going to be a veritable Welsh scholar by the time they were through.
"You mean the bit with the beer cups?" Ianto asked. Gwen beamed and nodded and Ianto nodded as well, pursing his lips. "Yeah... Let's point out our own mortality to Jack Harkness, shall we?"
Gwen gaped at him for a moment before saying, "Well... We'll rig it."
-----
"Say it again," Jack said, grinning. "Please, Ianto."
Ianto sighed. "Gwyl Fair y Canhwyllau."
"Again."
"Jack!" Gwen said, exasperated.
"Okay, okay." He sat back in his chair. "So we drink the beer out of these cups and then... throw them over our heads?"
"Yup!" Gwen intoned, holding up a pewter beer stein in a silent cheers before starting to chug down the alcohol.
"And I won't incur the wrath of a certain Welshman for doing so?" Jack asked slyly, looking over at Ianto.
"As long as you don't break anything when you throw it," Ianto replied, sipping at his own beer.
They were sitting in the Hub after hours, the computers powered down for the night. Rhys had been supposed to join them for a pint as well, but he'd been held up by a sudden transportation emergency and had rang them up to let them know.
As they drank, Ianto looked up to where Myfanwy was flapping around her aerie nest and squawk a bit. She was just as full of pent-up energy as her human caregivers were, unable to get out as much because of the cold weather.
Spring would come soon enough, though; then she could spread her wings and eat sheep to her heart's delight.
Gwen finished her pint first, tossing it over her head. It clattered against the tiled wall before wobbling to a stop right-side up. Ianto had made sure to pick cups that were bottom heavy, signaling that he and Gwen would have the rare long lives in Torchwood.
Jack positively beamed when Ianto's cup did the same, spinning to a halt underneath what had been Tosh's computer station.
"Y'know, I really don't have to do this," he said with a laugh. "Since we know how long I'll live."
"Oh, it's tradition!" Gwen childed, reaching over to smack him on the shoulder. "Go on, go on!"
Jack laughed and threw the mug straight up, high into the air. Gwen let out a bit of a shriek and covered her head while Ianto flinched away from Jack, all of them fully expecting the stein to come crashing down.
After five seconds, however, they both cautiously opened their eyes when Jack started laughing. "I guess there's our answer!" he said, pointing upwards.
Even from the distance, Gwen and Ianto could both see the glinting silver of Jack's cup in Myfanwy's mouth.
redismycolour Challenge: Day ThirteenDate Written: 1/17/09
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 646
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Gwen/Rhys, Myfanwy
Spoilers: Post Exit Wounds
Warnings: None
Author Notes: I didn't want to do normal "everyone goes on vacation" theme for this one. I was thinking of doing an Imbolc fic, but then I found this holiday.
Ianto loved Gwen. He did. She reminded him a lot of his sister, all heart and determination and enthusiasm and stubborn Welsh pride.
She just didn't fully think things through a whole hell of a lot.
"So. I've been thinking," she announced one morning when Ianto handed over her coffee.
"Words that instill fear into my heart," Ianto said.
He was only half joking.
She gave him a glare. "I was thinking about Mary's Festival of the Candles."
Ianto raised an eyebrow, motioning for her to continue.
"They used to have this tradition where they'd do a sort of fortune-telling, to see how long they'd live. I thought maybe we'd do that, give Jack a bit of Welsh culture, yeah?"
Jack had once admitted to Gwen and Ianto, after much prodding and poking and missed conversations in Welsh, that the reason why he didn't know the culture he'd lived in for over 100 years was because he hadn't expected to wait all that terribly long. It was fun to visit but he was waiting for his train. The two had decided right then and there that their Captain was going to be a veritable Welsh scholar by the time they were through.
"You mean the bit with the beer cups?" Ianto asked. Gwen beamed and nodded and Ianto nodded as well, pursing his lips. "Yeah... Let's point out our own mortality to Jack Harkness, shall we?"
Gwen gaped at him for a moment before saying, "Well... We'll rig it."
-----
"Say it again," Jack said, grinning. "Please, Ianto."
Ianto sighed. "Gwyl Fair y Canhwyllau."
"Again."
"Jack!" Gwen said, exasperated.
"Okay, okay." He sat back in his chair. "So we drink the beer out of these cups and then... throw them over our heads?"
"Yup!" Gwen intoned, holding up a pewter beer stein in a silent cheers before starting to chug down the alcohol.
"And I won't incur the wrath of a certain Welshman for doing so?" Jack asked slyly, looking over at Ianto.
"As long as you don't break anything when you throw it," Ianto replied, sipping at his own beer.
They were sitting in the Hub after hours, the computers powered down for the night. Rhys had been supposed to join them for a pint as well, but he'd been held up by a sudden transportation emergency and had rang them up to let them know.
As they drank, Ianto looked up to where Myfanwy was flapping around her aerie nest and squawk a bit. She was just as full of pent-up energy as her human caregivers were, unable to get out as much because of the cold weather.
Spring would come soon enough, though; then she could spread her wings and eat sheep to her heart's delight.
Gwen finished her pint first, tossing it over her head. It clattered against the tiled wall before wobbling to a stop right-side up. Ianto had made sure to pick cups that were bottom heavy, signaling that he and Gwen would have the rare long lives in Torchwood.
Jack positively beamed when Ianto's cup did the same, spinning to a halt underneath what had been Tosh's computer station.
"Y'know, I really don't have to do this," he said with a laugh. "Since we know how long I'll live."
"Oh, it's tradition!" Gwen childed, reaching over to smack him on the shoulder. "Go on, go on!"
Jack laughed and threw the mug straight up, high into the air. Gwen let out a bit of a shriek and covered her head while Ianto flinched away from Jack, all of them fully expecting the stein to come crashing down.
After five seconds, however, they both cautiously opened their eyes when Jack started laughing. "I guess there's our answer!" he said, pointing upwards.
Even from the distance, Gwen and Ianto could both see the glinting silver of Jack's cup in Myfanwy's mouth.