Breakfast at Ianto'sChapter:
Could be read as a sequel to In The MorningAuthor: a_silver_storyRating:
Same as TW. Swearing and sexual references.Warnings:
*cough* *choke* FLUFF ARGH!Disclaimer:
This belongs to RTD and the BBC. To some extent, Starz also, since funding had to be found elsewhere post-CoEwCoE (Children of Earth? What Children of Earth?).Summary:
When I thought about it, it seemed ridiculous to assume that Jack can't cook. So … yeah. This happened. *bats excess fluff off shoulder*| Breakfast at Ianto's |
Ianto had set his phone to vibrate, and then hidden it in his pyjama bottoms … well, where it would wake him up when set to vibrate.
His jump when it started up was only fractional, and miraculously managed not to wake Jack up. Hardly believing he was voluntarily giving up sleep, Ianto dragged himself (literally) out of bed, through the bedroom door, down the hallway and into the kitchen in a fashion very similar to the gait of a zombie. Yawning, he flicked the light on, put his phone on the counter top and opened the fridge, cursing the seemingly deafening noise of the seals becoming separated as he pulled the door. He cringed, hoping the noise wouldn't wake Jack.
Taking out all the things he needed, piled high in his arms, he turned quickly to put them on the work surface and cursing again when he pretty much dropped the topmost things and watched them skid a little way. He scowled at the cardboard, Styrofoam and film packaging before him – eggs, sausages, mushrooms, bacon and tomato – as if daring them to make more noise than they already had.
He gave them a slight nod of approval as he returned to the fridge freezer, opening the freezer section quickly, hoping that similarly to plaster-removal it would be less noisy and less painful if he just ripped the seals apart.
Of course, the drawers scraped noisily as he tried to remember where he'd shoved the hash browns, the ice squealing between drawer and plastic surround. He grimaced, tugging at the cardboard box of hash browns, willing it to come free. With a lot of scraping (and cursing in his head,) and box-flattening, Ianto managed to get it out. He put it with the stuff from the fridge and kicked the freezer shut.
As quietly as he could, Ianto crept back to the bedroom to check on Jack. He was exactly how Ianto had left him, spread out like a starfish across the bed, his own hand in his hair with a thumb rubbing slight circles. Jack probably thought the hand on his head was Ianto's, or that his hand was on Ianto's head. Or maybe he really did like himself enough to pet his own hair.
Rubbing more sleep from his eyes, Ianto returned to his task in the kitchen. He quietly and carefully opened all the packaging ready for when he needed it, took the oil from the pantry and then stooped to the cupboard under the sink to get the frying pan.
Of course, the frying pan was right at the back, under two other pans, a colander, the largest cake tin Tesco had to offer (that Ianto could no longer remember why he had), the spare grill pan and the pressure cooker. Neatly stacked. Neatly and noisily.
Ianto grunted as he had to lift the pile of metal out of the cupboard, place it gently on the floor, move everything off the frying pan and put the surplus kitchenware back. He stood with the frying pan, and the worn screws decided that that
was the exact moment they were going to give. The bowl of the pan clanged
loudly onto the laminated floor, and Ianto stared at the plastic handle in his grip, his lips pressed into a very thin, tight line.
There was movement in the bedroom, and quickly Ianto dropped the handle onto the work surface, filled a tumbler from the draining board with water and headed back to the bedroom. He bumped into a worried-looking Jack in the bedroom doorway.
“Sorry,” he winced. “I knocked the pan from the draining board when I …” He indicated the glass.
Jack sighed. “Just get back in bed,” he smiled. “I was getting cold.”
Ianto yawned (perfect timing
) and followed Jack into the room, sliding under the sheets into the warm bit that Jack had left. Jack frowned at the coldness of Ianto's side of the mattress, and raised a questioning eyebrow.
“You know what I'm like in the morning,” mumbled Ianto into his pillow. “I think I fell asleep standing up – hence pan-dropping. Now get back in.”
Jack laughed, but obeyed, wrapping himself around Ianto and resting his chin on his head. Oh, buggeration …
thought Ianto, having little choice else than to hold him back, trapped in his arms.
“As long as you weren't tryna cook,” Jack joked.
“I know, I know. The motto of my kitchen 'can you microwave it?'.”
“Especially before midday,” Jack pointed out.
“Especially before midday. Absolute catastrophe would be certain.”
Fifteen minutes later, Jack was asleep, but Ianto really couldn't pull himself free. Jack wasn't holding him too tightly, or even really making it too difficult to slip away. Ianto was just so warm
and so cosy
… and if he didn't concentrate he might just …
Ianto gritted his teeth and dragged himself away from bed for the second time that morning. On this attempt, he closed the bedroom door behind him in the hope it might muffle whatever Absolute Catastrophe was about to occur.
First of all, he needed to figure out the order he was supposed to cook all this crap.
He decided to put the hash browns in the oven, then start frying the sausages, then the eggs, then the bacon.
… but what about the mushrooms?
Maybe it was mushrooms, then sausages, then eggs, then bacon?
Could he actually do them all in the same pan?
What if he fried the sausages and bacon together, then put them to keep warm under a warm grill, washed out the pan and then
did the mushrooms?
… but what about the eggs?
Okay … sausages, bacon, grill, wash pan, mushrooms, grill, eggs.
Then again … he was sure he had a smaller frying pan somewhere that he could do the mushrooms in …
In the end, Ianto set the sausages to fry while he pulled the nearest small pan from the top of a pile out of the cupboard for the mushrooms. He filled his stove kettle with water and set it on the hob, getting his tea for two breakfast set from its presentation box and putting it in the sink.
He turned the sausages, washed out the pot and matching mugs and coasters, and then tried to remember where he'd last seen his tea strainer. It had
been in the cutlery drawer, but a quick rifle through the section it should have been in revealed it had grown legs and wandered as far away from anywhere it might be of use.
As a last resort, Ianto crouched back down to locate his sieve, press out the dents and hoping that it would do.
He turned the sausages again, wondering if it was too late to use Google to figure out how he should be doing this, and began cutting the stalks from the mushrooms and chopping them in half. He used the sieve to wash them, turned the sausages, put some bacon in the pan and then started frying the mushrooms on their own.
So far so good.
Of course, he then spotted the loose tomato, standing lonely on the work surface from where it had rolled. He glared at it, took a deep breath, and carefully began to chop it as fast as he could. It squelched and caved under his fingers, and eventually he was just left with a bit of a red, wet, mess with a few seeds.
He threw it in the bin.
Jack didn't need tomato. He could make do without.
Flip the bacon, turn the sausages, stir the mushrooms, check the water is getting to the boil …
Ianto was getting a good feeling, like this might actually work out. He cut open a sausage a little, checking the middle (and also learned why it was a bad idea to stand topless close to a hot frying pan spitting oil), and satisfied transferred the sausages and bacon onto a plate. He popped the plate into the grill oven, which was warmed by the large oven underneath that was cooking the … oh fuck
He'd forgotten to actually put the hash browns in.
Ianto took a deep breath to calm down.
He could work through this.
He'd been in crisis situations before.
He put the pan with the mushrooms in under the grill, too, and then put the hash browns in. He'd just have to wait until they were five minutes from done before starting on the eggs. He turned the heat down underneath the kettle so that it wouldn't start screaming, filled the teapot with the boiled water to warm it and tipped it down the sink. He filled the kettle again and added his Breakfast Tea leaves, nice and strong.
While the tea brewed, he checked the hash browns.
Ianto jumped in shock, seeing the shadow of man cast over part of the kitchen, and turned sharply to find Jack leaning casually in the doorway.
“I can't decide,” Jack smirked, “whether my favourite bit was forgetting the hash browns, or when you tried to chop that tomato … though when you realised that pans spitting oil tend to burn tummy skin was also rather good.”
Ianto put his hands on his hips and set his jaw. “Shut up,” was the best retort he could come up with. “I'm trying, aren't I?”
“I like this idea,” Jack continued, walking into the kitchen and indicating the food being kept warm by secondary heat from the oven. “Definitely makes things easier,” he smiled.
Ianto bristled. “It's supposed to be breakfast in bed. That doesn't work if you're not in bed.”
“I suppose not,” Jack admitted, then grinned.
“What?” Ianto demanded, eyebrow raising.
“Nothing,” shrugged Jack.
“Go back to bed,” ordered Ianto, pointing to the door.
“I'm going, I'm going,” Jack insisted, backing out of the room. He disappeared down the hall, and Ianto listened for the click of the bedroom door shutting before turning back to … oh, his hash browns were now … well … hash blacks.
Never mind. It was Jack's fault, so he could eat them. All of them. Even if Ianto had to stand over him and threaten him with Hollyoaks omnibus.
Hurriedly removing the hash blacks from the oven, he put them on Jack's plate and set the mushrooms to fry again. He washed out the sausage and bacon pan hurriedly and cracked two eggs into it.
Stir the mushrooms, check the bacon and sausage, poke the hash blacks, check the eggs …Oh, buggeration!
, though Ianto.
He'd forgotten to put oil in the frying pan before cracking the eggs into it. They were well and truly stuck to the bottom. He poured some oil in anyway, in the hope it might help, and got a butter knife to try and peel the edges up to let some of the oil underneath at least.
His nostrils twitched; he could smell burning – and lo and be-fucking-hold, he'd burned the fucking mushrooms. Buggeration
He whipped them from the hob, tipped them half-but-not-quite-half onto two plates, one already housing the hash blacks.
Distracted by the mushrooms, he'd forgotten about the eggs. In the end, he scraped what he could onto the plates and left the rest stuck in the pan. He got his bacon and sausage from the grill, and frowned when he realised they'd cooled to the point they were practically cold.
Stupid bloody Ianto. He'd switched the oven off when the hash browns had become hash blacks.
Defiantly, he shoved Jack's plate into the microwave, zapped it, then did his own. He shoved everything onto the tray; plates, teapot, teacups, sieve and napkins. He doubled back to get the cutlery.
Carefully, he used his back to negotiate the bedroom door, and proudly presented his tray to Jack, sat up in bed and waiting patiently. Jack grinned widely, holding his hands up for the tray and taking it from him so that he could sit down himself.
“Smells delicious,” Jack assured him.
“Liar,” Ianto sighed.
“Did you turn the hob off?” Jack asked, taking the teapot from the tray and setting it on the bedside table.
“Yes!” Ianto replied impatiently, then faltered. “Erm … I … need a glass of water,” he added hurriedly. He darted into the kitchen, flicked the hob off, checked the other appliances and realised he'd not made any toast.
He'd tried his best, goddamit, and Jack was going to live with it
- whether or not he wanted to.
“Ah,” Jack nodded when he returned. “You did
leave the hob on.”
“You forgot your water,” Jack pointed out. “But don't worry – you have some from earlier, remember? Now – I'm guessing mine is the one with the most on?”
Ianto nodded despondently, taking his knife and fork and mutely beginning to cut into his bacon. After a moment he realised he'd forgotten ketchup, but he wasn't going to go and fetch it unless Jack said anything.
“S'good,” Jack told him over a mouthful of burned mushroom, hash black and partially scrambled egg (which probably had bits of pan paint stuck in it somewhere, knowing Ianto's luck).
“Are you possessed? It's awful.”
Jack sighed, and lowered his cutlery. “You know what it tastes of?”
“No. It tastes of love and care and affection, because that's what really made it.”
Ianto sniggered, and Jack could barely keep his face straight. Ianto punched his shoulder playfully. “Girl.”
Jack stuck his tongue out, then resumed cutting out pieces of breakfast to eat while Ianto picked at his sausages. Before putting any more in, Jack hesitated. “It's what my Dad said to my Mom when she burned down the kitchen trying to make us all a proper breakfast. I think the meals were the only thing that vaguely survived.”
“... oh ...” Ianto replied, quiet.
Jack shrugged. “I still managed to get food poisoning. This
is cordon bleu,” he declared, indicating the plate before him.
“Your cooking is so much better than mine.”
“I was a bachelor, I was in the army, I was on the move. I had
to learn how to cook – they didn't have that many take-aways back then, and cafés aren't overly common in the middle of open fields. Luckily I'm more like my Dad, so … there were only a few 'Captain Jack's Cooking'-related fatalities, and mostly my own.”
Ianto set down his knife and fork. “Tea?” he asked, changing the subject. Jack joking about dying made him uncomfortable, even if it shouldn't, and even if it wasn't his business how Jack talked about death.
They sipped from their teacups in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Eventually Jack removed the teacup from Ianto's hands as he began to drift off where he was sat, and had to try and balance the tray on his lap without spilling anything while also making sure Ianto didn't lie too awkwardly. He stroked Ianto's hair as he finished off his breakfast, stacked Ianto's almost full plate on top of his own and cleaned that one, too.
He was still chewing his final forkful as he carefully put the tray on the floor, far enough away that he wouldn't stand on it when he inevitably forgot that it was there later on. He pulled himself down into the bed and tucked the duvet under his chin, wriggling closer to where Ianto was dozing.
Poor thing. He wasn't a morning person, really. He needed an adrenalin rush just to get him out of bed some days, but Jack did love waking him gently (or with a blow job).
“Ianto …” he murmured, in a sing-song voice. “Iantooooo.”
He poked him, and Ianto groaned and batted his hand away. “No,” he winged.
Jack sighed dramatically. “Have it your way then ...”
Groggily, Ianto turned onto his back, then rolled over onto his other side. “Aff done enough workfortoday,” he muttered.
“Of course you have,” Jack agreed, leaning over as far as he could and kissing Ianto's temple. He slid out of bed, doing is best not to disturb Ianto. As quietly as he could, he made his way to the en suite and brushed his teeth, then returned to take the tray and teapot back to the kitchen.
He stood in the doorway, watching the lump that was Ianto breathing steadily and dozing peacefully in the big, warm, comfortable bed.
Ianto raised his tousled head from his pillow, squinting to see him in the doorway. “What comes after breakfast?” he asked.
“Uh … lunch?” Jack frowned, going to sit on the foot of the bed. Ianto wriggled until he was lying on his back.
“Nope,” he shook his head, and smiled sleepily.
“Elevenses?” suggested Jack.
“Nope,” Ianto shook his head again.
Jack made a 'pffft' sound. “Morning lie in?”
Ianto pursed his lips playfully as he shook his head another time.
“Go on then,” Jack sighed, giving up and leaning until he was half lying, half propped up on the bed and able to put his hand on Ianto's thigh and rub small circles with his thumb. “What comes after breakfast?”
Ianto put his hand under Jack's chin. “Second Breakfast, Jack,” he informed him.
With a small laugh, Jack decided not to mention he'd never heard of Second Breakfast and simply nodded as if he'd forgotten about it. “So … what is for Second Breakfast today?” he asked, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.
Ianto tutted, pretending to be disappointed, and turned so that he could open his bedside drawer. He produced a large squeezie bottle of chocolate sauce and handed it to Jack.
“Well ... I suppose I am,” he grinned.THE END
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