Title: Self care
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 995 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 501 - Amnesty using Challenge 431 - Cream
Summary: Jack walks in on Ianto in the middle of an important, yet private regiment.


Jack lifted his arm up and gave it a sniff before pulling a face that would have been best described as utter revulsion. ‘Man, that stuff really stinks,’ he said to himself, holding his nose and breathing through his mouth. ‘Fifty first century pheromones or not, that is minging.’ From now on he was going to be way more careful before approaching any alien that looked like a model for the “world's most potent acne” commercial. So much for the shower he'd just had. He was going to need another go to see if he couldn't rid himself of rancid exploding teenage alien face gunk.

He lifted back the hatch that led to his under-office bunker and climbed down the ladder. Ianto must have been done and slipped out when he wasn't looking, but when he turned and headed for the bathroom Jack came just in time to see Ianto rubbing something onto his face. He caught Jack's reflection in the mirror and spun on his heel, whisking the small white bottle behind his back.

‘Sorry, I thought you were done with the shower already,’ Jack said. He tried to make out the thing in Ianto's hand reflected back at him – the thing Ianto very clearly thought he couldn't see hidden behind him, forgetting that the mirror gave Jack a perfect view. Then Jack grinned. ‘Is that…?’

‘Topical,’ Ianto replied.

Jack's grin widened. ‘Very topical. Prescription?’

He stiffened slightly at Jack's sudden amused interest. ‘Once daily or as often as needed,’ came the stiff reply. Ianto was blushing profusely now, which was no small thing given some of the things they got up to which would make a pole dancer blush.

‘Conceals any sudden redness, does it?’ Jack leaned closer and whispered in his ear, ‘Because it's not working so well,’ he added, before spotting the bottle's reflection close up in Ianto's hand and snatching it from him.

Jack twirled it round in his hand to study the label. ‘Oh, this isn't prescription at all,’ he said, knowing full well what it was without reading the label. ‘Expensive though,’ he added, showing off the bottle as if for the first time. ‘They don't stock this in Boots. I never pegged you as a department store cosmetics snob.’

Ianto snatched it back from him. ‘It's just a moisturiser, okay? I just happen to prefer the smell of this one over some of the others. Everybody moisturises, even men. Even Owen.’

‘Good luck getting him to admit that!’

Ianto moved to stand taller but it failed miserably as the only thing it did was cause the towel around his waist to loosen, making him clutch for it instinctively to prevent it falling to the floor. Not that Jack hadn't seen it all before. ‘And the hub has a terrible problem of a lack of humidity. Fine for keeping documents and artefacts well preserved but does nothing for your skin,’ Ianto argued, digging himself an even bigger hole as far as Jack was concerned.

Jack clapped his hands to his face in mock horror. ‘Those selfish dehumidified documents! Leaving your skin all dry and pH imbalanced! For shame!’ Jack teased.

Ianto frowned. ‘Now you're just mocking me.’ And Ianto hated being mocked.

‘No. Me? Never,’ Jack assured him in a syrupy voice. ‘I mean I knew about the lavender bubble bath and the moonflower bath salts…’

‘You've been through my bathroom drawers?’

Jack winked. ‘Not just the bathroom.’ Jack folded his arms and cocked his head sideways. ‘Tell me, was the pair of black stain boxers a gift from your sister that you've been hiding or does it just come out for special occasions, and if so, when do I get my turn?’

‘I can't believe you've been through all the drawers in my flat.’ Then he turned and looked at Jack, still gripping the towel firmly around his waist. ‘No, actually, I can believe you've been through my drawers. All of them.’

Jack carried on undeterred. ‘I'm also guessing that the box at the back of that wardrobe was Lisa's kinky girlie things unless of course you've got a Saturday night hobby that I did not know about, and frankly, I'll be a little disappointed if that's the best you can do. A really good time would be more Zsa Zsa Gabor and less Scary Spice, you know what I mean? Oh, and we do need to have a talk about the sock suspenders. Because those should actually be a crime.’

Ianto blushed even more furiously. ‘I only used them once… When my ankle holster was broken. And for the record they really don't chafe as much as they look like they might.’

‘Please stop talking,’ Jack begged, trying hard not to laugh at the same time. ‘I'm learning more about you than I think I ever wanted to know.’

‘I have a skincare routine, okay? It's just a bit of moisturiser.’

‘No jojoba bead scrub? No mud masks? Toner? Nose strips?’

Ianto scowled. ‘I have no idea what any of those things even are.’

‘Okay, okay, calm down. I was only teasing. At least now I know what the smell is when I kiss you. Speaking of,’ he leaned forward again and sniffed along Ianto's neck. ‘Hey, how come you're all nice smelling and I still reek from that alien pustule crap?’

‘Did you use the candy apple scented body wash and the deep sea loofah scrub?’

‘See, now I don't know if you're being serious or not.’ He had half a mind to smell Ianto again and see if he could detect the scent of candy apples.

Ianto managed a smile. ‘I’ll leave you to figure that out on your own. Or you could just use Owen's industrial strength disinfectant soap and scrub until you've removed about ten layers of skin.’

Jack cringed. ‘No wonder you have to moisturise.’

Ianto slapped his hand away. ‘Hands off, mister. You can buy your own expensive face lotions.’