Fic: With Some Chocolate On The Side
Title: With Some Chocolate On The Side
Series: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Owen, Tosh, Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Season 1
Beta: luvinthe88and20
Disclaimer:
Summary: Jack goes to excess and pays the consequences... Poor Owen...
Author's Notes: Written for the tw_lucky_7 prompt of "Gluttony." Does it get me extra points that I am posting this in a Dunkin Donuts in the middle of the night?
How Sweet It Is
Jack hissed in pain every time he put the slightest bit of pressure on his right ankle. His head throbbed from the small puncture wound in his left temple and his whole body felt as if it was crumpled in Death’s doorway. If it wasn’t for Ianto supporting nearly all of his weight he wouldn’t be moving towards the sunlight at the end of this cavern.
Burying his head into Ianto’s neck, Jack’s eyes watered from the splashes of light around him. His fingers grasped at Ianto’s shoulder as he tried to drown out Gwen’s meddlesome harpiness. Tosh put a slim hand on Jack’s side, most likely trying to offer support, but it only made Jack mewl in pain. He was in so much pain, all he wanted to do was die.
“Here we bloody go again,” he could hear Owen mutter under his breath. “You are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you Captain?”
Jack slowly turned his head, feeling to need to tell Owen to ‘shut the hell up,’ that if it wasn’t him, it could have been one of them in that cavern and they might not have survived. The only thing that did come out of his mouth was a dribble of blood that he spit out, a small string of crimson red dribbling down his chin and staining Ianto’s shirt.
“Shit,” Owen said, coming up under Jack’s other shoulder, taking some of the weight off Ianto.
A cry of pain choked itself in Jack’s throat. Now that they had him out of the cavern, why wouldn’t they just let him die? Where Angels fear to tread is where Jack Harkness always seemed to go, as he had once again. Jack had decided he could check out this Rift alarm by himself, saying he would call for backup if things got too bad. It was a small spike and he didn’t go in as armed as he should have. He let himself be manhandled as Ianto and Owen tucked him into the back seat of the SUV, trying to find a quiet spot in his mind.
“Gwen, you and Ianto take the SUV back,” Owen said really loudly from next to the back door. “Tosh and I will head back in my car. He’s made it this far Gwen, don’t kill him with your driving,” Owen said as he slammed the door shut.
Jack winced as his eyes began to cloud over and tear. What those creatures had done to him was intense. If he hadn’t been so cocky, he would have had back-up and wouldn’t have taken the punishment so well until it had been too late. Jack barely registered Ianto sliding into the seat next to him, and cradling Jack against him. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep. A nice, deep sleep would be good. Just closing his eyes for a moment was a good idea as the world turned black around him.
* * * * *
Jack let out an audible groan as his eyes fluttered open. Even his eyelashes hurt. Owen seemed to think it served him right, but it felt unfair that he hadn’t been able to die. All Jack had been able to do was lie on the sofa in the Hub while everyone else, usually Ianto or Gwen or Tosh, brought him some food or papers that needed to be signed, etcetera. He didn’t want to wake up yet, but Jack swore he smelled chocolate.
He licked his lips as he thought of all the ways one could enjoy chocolate: in a cake, in coffee, dipped in by pretzels, as candy, as a dressing to a steak, drizzled across the ticklish spots of Ianto’s chest so Jack had to lick it up while making sure Ianto didn’t squirm under him. After cleaning Ianto with his tongue of any remnants of chocolate sauce, Ianto could feed Jack the chocolate cake, followed by a mocha chaser.
Jack’s stomach grumbled at all the delicious thoughts. The clear beef broth and ginger ale the team had fed him, on Owen’s orders until he stopped projectile vomiting, had not been enough and now Jack was starving. His stomach never felt so empty. He slowly craned his head and spotted the reason he could smell chocolate so close to the sofa.
Sitting on the little table in front of him was a platter of donuts: chocolate covered ones with sprinkles, bavarian cremes, and classic glazed ones. Jack’s mouth watered and he knew he had to have them. His stomach nearly jumped out of his body to devour the donuts itself. In the back of his mind, Jack found himself wondering why they were just sitting there. A silent moment later he seemed to remember the Rift alarm going off.
“Hello?” Jack softly said. No one responded.
Grinning like the cat who has found the pantry full of cream without anyone to guard it, Jack slid his legs down over the couch and forced himself to sit up. His head began to pound a rhythm he did not like. Taking a couple of deep breaths, Jack forced his head to stop spinning. After a bit, he looked around and hearing no one in the Hub, Jack pulled the platter towards him.
Right on top was a chocolate covered sprinkled donut. Jack plucked it up between his fingers, smelling the terrible sweetness as it assailed his senses. His mouth was literally watering. Jack wasted no time in shoving the entire donut into his mouth. He couldn’t even breathe his mouth was so crammed. Slowly chewing, Jack savoured every intoxicating bit of sugar.
Manoeuvring his bandaged right leg back up onto the sofa so it could remain elevated, Jack dragged the plate of donuts with him, resting it on his stomach. He picked up the bavarian creme, chomping down on it so half of it was in his mouth. Pulling the donut away so he could chew and breath at the same time, some of the vanilla creme dribbled down his chin. Swallowing the pastry after barely chewing it, Jack worked his tongue down his chin, lapping at the creamy goodness. He then ploughed the other half into his mouth, letting out a moan of delight.
Before he could stop himself, Jack was cramming donut after donut into his big gob. Barely able to breathe, he didn’t care. All he wanted was food! The sticky sweetness cloyed at his mouth. Jack glanced down at the now empty plate. He must have eaten at least a dozen donuts in less time than it took him to disrobe.
Jack found himself suddenly craving coffee as he smacked his lips together. Putting the plate down on the sofa cushions, Jack forced himself to stand up, watching the cascade of crumbs fall to the floor from his shirt. Grunting in abject pain, Jack hauled his aching body to the kitchenette really hating non-lethal injuries, wondering why Owen hadn’t just done him in.
Finding the coffee maker prepped for a new batch, Jack smirked to himself. Hitting the ‘on’ switch, he made a mental note to check on the team later to find out what called them away so quickly and if he could be of help. Jack tapped his fingers against the counter, hunching over in pain.
“Come on, come on,” he urged on the coffee maker.
Jack really, really wanted something to drink. The donuts were starting to make him feel sick, all that sweetness just sitting in his throat. He looked around the little kitchen looking for anything to drink. Rather than moving all the way to the sink, he tugged open the refrigerator and spied the jug of milk, yanking it off its shelf, and leaving the refirgerator door open.
He didn’t even bother grabbing a glass. Jack started chugging from the milk jug, swallowing it faster than he swallowed anything else in his life. The milk was so cold and caressed his throat as it washed down the donuts. Rivulets of milk cascaded down his face and soaked his shirt, but he barely noticed. Draining the last dregs of the milk, Jack slammed the container down on the counter.
His fingers curled around the counter edge as his stomach began to convulse. Jack doubled over in pain as the cramps and waves of nausea hit him at the same time. Letting out a burp, Jack moaned in pain as he re-tasted the chocolate donuts. His warm forehead leaned against the cool countertop. It felt as if a vise had scrunched up all his internal organs and replaced them with fire and pain.
Sliding down the counter, Jack’s back was against the tile, he clutched his stomach. If he could reach a knife, maybe as he was stabbing his gut he would hit a major vein and just bleed out and be done with it. He groaned in pain, tasting everything he had eaten all over again. Sweat dotted his forehead, his neck, even his back.
Hearing movement in the Hub, Jack tried to call out, but his own voice got choked by his throat closing, trying not to puke. Jack held out a hand, placing it firmly on the ground, trying to keep himself from slumping over completely. A shadow fell across him and Jack tried to smile weakly at Ianto.
“Owen!” Ianto called for the other man as he sunk to his knees next to Jack. Ianto put both hand on Jack’s shoulders, holding him up.
“Oh bloody hell,” Owen muttered, crouching down in front of Jack. “How much did he eat?”
Jack couldn’t hold it in any longer and exploded like Mt. Vesuvius, dousing Owen with the bile and chunks of food. Owen let out a cry, attempting to jump back, but he was too late. Jack felt himself succumbing to oblivion as he wanted to punch his stomach to try and diffuse the pain.
“About that much,” he heard Ianto quip as the darkness overtook him.
Series: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Owen, Tosh, Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Season 1
Beta: luvinthe88and20
Disclaimer:
Summary: Jack goes to excess and pays the consequences... Poor Owen...
Author's Notes: Written for the tw_lucky_7 prompt of "Gluttony." Does it get me extra points that I am posting this in a Dunkin Donuts in the middle of the night?
How Sweet It Is
Jack hissed in pain every time he put the slightest bit of pressure on his right ankle. His head throbbed from the small puncture wound in his left temple and his whole body felt as if it was crumpled in Death’s doorway. If it wasn’t for Ianto supporting nearly all of his weight he wouldn’t be moving towards the sunlight at the end of this cavern.
Burying his head into Ianto’s neck, Jack’s eyes watered from the splashes of light around him. His fingers grasped at Ianto’s shoulder as he tried to drown out Gwen’s meddlesome harpiness. Tosh put a slim hand on Jack’s side, most likely trying to offer support, but it only made Jack mewl in pain. He was in so much pain, all he wanted to do was die.
“Here we bloody go again,” he could hear Owen mutter under his breath. “You are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you Captain?”
Jack slowly turned his head, feeling to need to tell Owen to ‘shut the hell up,’ that if it wasn’t him, it could have been one of them in that cavern and they might not have survived. The only thing that did come out of his mouth was a dribble of blood that he spit out, a small string of crimson red dribbling down his chin and staining Ianto’s shirt.
“Shit,” Owen said, coming up under Jack’s other shoulder, taking some of the weight off Ianto.
A cry of pain choked itself in Jack’s throat. Now that they had him out of the cavern, why wouldn’t they just let him die? Where Angels fear to tread is where Jack Harkness always seemed to go, as he had once again. Jack had decided he could check out this Rift alarm by himself, saying he would call for backup if things got too bad. It was a small spike and he didn’t go in as armed as he should have. He let himself be manhandled as Ianto and Owen tucked him into the back seat of the SUV, trying to find a quiet spot in his mind.
“Gwen, you and Ianto take the SUV back,” Owen said really loudly from next to the back door. “Tosh and I will head back in my car. He’s made it this far Gwen, don’t kill him with your driving,” Owen said as he slammed the door shut.
Jack winced as his eyes began to cloud over and tear. What those creatures had done to him was intense. If he hadn’t been so cocky, he would have had back-up and wouldn’t have taken the punishment so well until it had been too late. Jack barely registered Ianto sliding into the seat next to him, and cradling Jack against him. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep. A nice, deep sleep would be good. Just closing his eyes for a moment was a good idea as the world turned black around him.
* * * * *
Jack let out an audible groan as his eyes fluttered open. Even his eyelashes hurt. Owen seemed to think it served him right, but it felt unfair that he hadn’t been able to die. All Jack had been able to do was lie on the sofa in the Hub while everyone else, usually Ianto or Gwen or Tosh, brought him some food or papers that needed to be signed, etcetera. He didn’t want to wake up yet, but Jack swore he smelled chocolate.
He licked his lips as he thought of all the ways one could enjoy chocolate: in a cake, in coffee, dipped in by pretzels, as candy, as a dressing to a steak, drizzled across the ticklish spots of Ianto’s chest so Jack had to lick it up while making sure Ianto didn’t squirm under him. After cleaning Ianto with his tongue of any remnants of chocolate sauce, Ianto could feed Jack the chocolate cake, followed by a mocha chaser.
Jack’s stomach grumbled at all the delicious thoughts. The clear beef broth and ginger ale the team had fed him, on Owen’s orders until he stopped projectile vomiting, had not been enough and now Jack was starving. His stomach never felt so empty. He slowly craned his head and spotted the reason he could smell chocolate so close to the sofa.
Sitting on the little table in front of him was a platter of donuts: chocolate covered ones with sprinkles, bavarian cremes, and classic glazed ones. Jack’s mouth watered and he knew he had to have them. His stomach nearly jumped out of his body to devour the donuts itself. In the back of his mind, Jack found himself wondering why they were just sitting there. A silent moment later he seemed to remember the Rift alarm going off.
“Hello?” Jack softly said. No one responded.
Grinning like the cat who has found the pantry full of cream without anyone to guard it, Jack slid his legs down over the couch and forced himself to sit up. His head began to pound a rhythm he did not like. Taking a couple of deep breaths, Jack forced his head to stop spinning. After a bit, he looked around and hearing no one in the Hub, Jack pulled the platter towards him.
Right on top was a chocolate covered sprinkled donut. Jack plucked it up between his fingers, smelling the terrible sweetness as it assailed his senses. His mouth was literally watering. Jack wasted no time in shoving the entire donut into his mouth. He couldn’t even breathe his mouth was so crammed. Slowly chewing, Jack savoured every intoxicating bit of sugar.
Manoeuvring his bandaged right leg back up onto the sofa so it could remain elevated, Jack dragged the plate of donuts with him, resting it on his stomach. He picked up the bavarian creme, chomping down on it so half of it was in his mouth. Pulling the donut away so he could chew and breath at the same time, some of the vanilla creme dribbled down his chin. Swallowing the pastry after barely chewing it, Jack worked his tongue down his chin, lapping at the creamy goodness. He then ploughed the other half into his mouth, letting out a moan of delight.
Before he could stop himself, Jack was cramming donut after donut into his big gob. Barely able to breathe, he didn’t care. All he wanted was food! The sticky sweetness cloyed at his mouth. Jack glanced down at the now empty plate. He must have eaten at least a dozen donuts in less time than it took him to disrobe.
Jack found himself suddenly craving coffee as he smacked his lips together. Putting the plate down on the sofa cushions, Jack forced himself to stand up, watching the cascade of crumbs fall to the floor from his shirt. Grunting in abject pain, Jack hauled his aching body to the kitchenette really hating non-lethal injuries, wondering why Owen hadn’t just done him in.
Finding the coffee maker prepped for a new batch, Jack smirked to himself. Hitting the ‘on’ switch, he made a mental note to check on the team later to find out what called them away so quickly and if he could be of help. Jack tapped his fingers against the counter, hunching over in pain.
“Come on, come on,” he urged on the coffee maker.
Jack really, really wanted something to drink. The donuts were starting to make him feel sick, all that sweetness just sitting in his throat. He looked around the little kitchen looking for anything to drink. Rather than moving all the way to the sink, he tugged open the refrigerator and spied the jug of milk, yanking it off its shelf, and leaving the refirgerator door open.
He didn’t even bother grabbing a glass. Jack started chugging from the milk jug, swallowing it faster than he swallowed anything else in his life. The milk was so cold and caressed his throat as it washed down the donuts. Rivulets of milk cascaded down his face and soaked his shirt, but he barely noticed. Draining the last dregs of the milk, Jack slammed the container down on the counter.
His fingers curled around the counter edge as his stomach began to convulse. Jack doubled over in pain as the cramps and waves of nausea hit him at the same time. Letting out a burp, Jack moaned in pain as he re-tasted the chocolate donuts. His warm forehead leaned against the cool countertop. It felt as if a vise had scrunched up all his internal organs and replaced them with fire and pain.
Sliding down the counter, Jack’s back was against the tile, he clutched his stomach. If he could reach a knife, maybe as he was stabbing his gut he would hit a major vein and just bleed out and be done with it. He groaned in pain, tasting everything he had eaten all over again. Sweat dotted his forehead, his neck, even his back.
Hearing movement in the Hub, Jack tried to call out, but his own voice got choked by his throat closing, trying not to puke. Jack held out a hand, placing it firmly on the ground, trying to keep himself from slumping over completely. A shadow fell across him and Jack tried to smile weakly at Ianto.
“Owen!” Ianto called for the other man as he sunk to his knees next to Jack. Ianto put both hand on Jack’s shoulders, holding him up.
“Oh bloody hell,” Owen muttered, crouching down in front of Jack. “How much did he eat?”
Jack couldn’t hold it in any longer and exploded like Mt. Vesuvius, dousing Owen with the bile and chunks of food. Owen let out a cry, attempting to jump back, but he was too late. Jack felt himself succumbing to oblivion as he wanted to punch his stomach to try and diffuse the pain.
“About that much,” he heard Ianto quip as the darkness overtook him.