Actions

Work Header

Time Lord in a Teapot

Work Text:

The teapot sat on the worktop, looking as innocent as a teapot could. It wasn’t its fault, Ianto knew, but Owen had disappeared, to visit Janet perhaps, so the teapot was the only available object to glare at, even if it was only peripherally involved.

Ianto’s polite request as to the whereabouts of his teapot, repeated at frequent intervals, had finally elicited an admission of guilt from Owen. Not that it was an admission of guilt, just “Oh, yeah, I dropped that.” Ianto wondered if he should try to survive without sleep, to be on hand to dispense tea or coffee twenty-four hours, anything to stop them from trying it do it themselves. He supposed he ought to be grateful he hadn’t been left to clear up bits of his beloved teapot himself, and that Owen had bothered to provide a replacement. He suspected Tosh had had something to do with one or both of those things.

Trying to ignore the part of him that felt using this new pot was a betrayal, Ianto began to prepare the tea. While it was brewing, he discovered the sugar was lumpy and stained, as if someone had stirred their tea then put the wet spoon in the sugar jar. He decided to blame Owen for that too. At least it was nearly finished. He turned and reached for the new sugar, checked the packet and the cupboard for damp, and turned back to the pot.

Large clouds of steam were issuing from the spout, thickening and coalescing into a humanoid shape.

“A genie in a teapot. Of course.” Leave it to Owen to provide a teapot that should have been in the Vaults. Actually, Ianto thought, he wouldn’t put it past Owen to have taken it from the Vaults.

“- superheated infusion of tannin and free radicals,” the man said, seemingly finishing a sentence.

“Morning, Ianto.” Jack strolled in, and froze, staring at the man.

That wasn’t like Jack. The man had just appeared from a teapot, but that was hardly the strangest thing Ianto had seen, let alone Jack. He was perfectly normal in appearance, handsome but not overly so, although the moustache was impressive.

“You’re a Time Lord.”

Ah.

“And you’re a fixed point,” Moustachioed Time Lord said, straightening his tie. “I don’t doubt that my brother had something to do with it. Now,” – he looked around speculatively – “Torchwood, Earth, early twenty-first century.”

Ianto wondered how he knew. As far as he was concerned, this was a perfectly ordinary kitchen. He kept it that way. The pterodactyl screeching outside was a bit unusual, but otherwise –

“My friends must be in your storage facility,” MTL concluded, and strode from the room, Jack hurrying after.

Ianto paused to pour the tea down the drain. It was a shame, but he wouldn’t risk serving Time Lord Tea.