Fic: Omelette For Your Health
Apr. 3rd, 2024 09:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jupiter2932Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: PG
Author:jupiter2932
Characters: Ianto & Tosh
Word Count: 200
Notes: Written for![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
torchwood100
Warnings: Something that could possibly be taken as a suggestion of past child abuse?
Summary: Ianto's not the best cook, but his nan taught him how (and when) to make a proper omelette.
"I didn't know you could cook," Tosh says when she trudges out of the bathroom.
She looks better than she did this morning, even with the black eye. Ianto's robe is way too big on her, sleeves dangling past her hands, covering the cut down her forearm that Owen stitched up. She stops by the kitchen on her way to the couch and sniffs at the two-egg omelette Ianto's sprinkling cheese on.
"My nan taught me."
He flips the omelette onto a plate and slides it to her across the counter.
His nan taught him to cook an omelette the night he crept into her kitchen at two in the morning with a black eye himself, and a split lip to go with it.
His wounds didn't come from a stint as a host for a formless alien from Ebzilon 3, but he's hoping breakfast for dinner hits the spot like it did for him, back then.
Nan always said you couldn't do any healing on an empty stomach; she probably hadn't been talking about alien possession, but Ianto's pretty sure the principle holds up.
"Feel better?" he asks.
Tosh nods, and gives a tired, half-hearted smile.
It's a start.
Rating: PG
Author:
jupiter2932Characters: Ianto & Tosh
Word Count: 200
Notes: Written for
torchwood100Warnings: Something that could possibly be taken as a suggestion of past child abuse?
Summary: Ianto's not the best cook, but his nan taught him how (and when) to make a proper omelette.
"I didn't know you could cook," Tosh says when she trudges out of the bathroom.
She looks better than she did this morning, even with the black eye. Ianto's robe is way too big on her, sleeves dangling past her hands, covering the cut down her forearm that Owen stitched up. She stops by the kitchen on her way to the couch and sniffs at the two-egg omelette Ianto's sprinkling cheese on.
"My nan taught me."
He flips the omelette onto a plate and slides it to her across the counter.
His nan taught him to cook an omelette the night he crept into her kitchen at two in the morning with a black eye himself, and a split lip to go with it.
His wounds didn't come from a stint as a host for a formless alien from Ebzilon 3, but he's hoping breakfast for dinner hits the spot like it did for him, back then.
Nan always said you couldn't do any healing on an empty stomach; she probably hadn't been talking about alien possession, but Ianto's pretty sure the principle holds up.
"Feel better?" he asks.
Tosh nods, and gives a tired, half-hearted smile.
It's a start.
