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vocab_drabblesTitle: Weighty Matters
Fandom: Torchwood
Author: Cat Moon
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 379
Characters/Pairings: Ianto, Owen (Janto implied)
Warnings: Weight related/body image topics
Summary: Ianto gets a diagnosis but doesn't really care.
Notes: Takes place during the 1st season sometime.
Weighty Matters
Ianto sat morosely on the table, swinging his legs while waiting for Owen to finish his examination. He hated medical exams, but Jack had insisted. Said he was getting too thin. Hah! Little did he know that Ianto tended to be on the heavier side and had always had to watch his weight. It ran in the family. Most people complimented his trim figure and wanted to know his secret.
Grief and depression. But he didn’t tell them that. Sometimes he made stuff up. When he saw his old school chum Ron while picking up the dry cleaning, he told him he was doing a lettuce and vinegar diet. He told Brandy at the café that he maintained his weight by eating Haggis every Wednesday. It amused him to imagine them trying the outrageous things he suggested. It’s not like they were truly friends of his. They had never been, not really. And one had to take his entertainment where he could get it.
Ianto wondered if Jack would still find him desirable in bed if he did gain the weight back. Couldn’t decide if he’d be disappointed or relieved.
Owen came over and shoved a bottle of pills into his hand.
“What’s this?”
“For your ulcer, take one a day.”
“I don’t have an ulcer,” Ianto denied. “No pain, I’m not throwing up.”
“So it’s an indolent ulcer.”
“You’re saying my ulcer is slothful?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Owen told him. “Are you disagreeing with my professional diagnosis, Dr. Jones?”
Ianto decided not to dignify that with an answer.
“It’s always the quiet ones,” Harper continued. “Keep everything bottled inside, and it festers until wham. Nasty open wound in your gut.”
“Lovely.”
“Just take the medication, and you’ll be on the mend in no time.”
“I have a cousin who has a lazy eye. D’ya suppose it’s related?”
“Out!” The medic told him with a scowl, pointing toward the main Hub. “Get out of my autopsy bay.”
“With pleasure.” Ianto hopped down from the table and headed for the coffee machine. It was his job to keep the team liberally supplied with caffeine lest they become indolent, like his ulcer.
He waited until he was at his flat that night to toss the pills in the bin.
End
Fandom: Torchwood
Author: Cat Moon
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 379
Characters/Pairings: Ianto, Owen (Janto implied)
Warnings: Weight related/body image topics
Summary: Ianto gets a diagnosis but doesn't really care.
Notes: Takes place during the 1st season sometime.
Weighty Matters
Ianto sat morosely on the table, swinging his legs while waiting for Owen to finish his examination. He hated medical exams, but Jack had insisted. Said he was getting too thin. Hah! Little did he know that Ianto tended to be on the heavier side and had always had to watch his weight. It ran in the family. Most people complimented his trim figure and wanted to know his secret.
Grief and depression. But he didn’t tell them that. Sometimes he made stuff up. When he saw his old school chum Ron while picking up the dry cleaning, he told him he was doing a lettuce and vinegar diet. He told Brandy at the café that he maintained his weight by eating Haggis every Wednesday. It amused him to imagine them trying the outrageous things he suggested. It’s not like they were truly friends of his. They had never been, not really. And one had to take his entertainment where he could get it.
Ianto wondered if Jack would still find him desirable in bed if he did gain the weight back. Couldn’t decide if he’d be disappointed or relieved.
Owen came over and shoved a bottle of pills into his hand.
“What’s this?”
“For your ulcer, take one a day.”
“I don’t have an ulcer,” Ianto denied. “No pain, I’m not throwing up.”
“So it’s an indolent ulcer.”
“You’re saying my ulcer is slothful?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Owen told him. “Are you disagreeing with my professional diagnosis, Dr. Jones?”
Ianto decided not to dignify that with an answer.
“It’s always the quiet ones,” Harper continued. “Keep everything bottled inside, and it festers until wham. Nasty open wound in your gut.”
“Lovely.”
“Just take the medication, and you’ll be on the mend in no time.”
“I have a cousin who has a lazy eye. D’ya suppose it’s related?”
“Out!” The medic told him with a scowl, pointing toward the main Hub. “Get out of my autopsy bay.”
“With pleasure.” Ianto hopped down from the table and headed for the coffee machine. It was his job to keep the team liberally supplied with caffeine lest they become indolent, like his ulcer.
He waited until he was at his flat that night to toss the pills in the bin.
End
