Title: (Mostly)Human Guinea Pig
By: amuly
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Word Count: 868
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jack doesn't see the point in carefully testing each alien artifact – not when he's available. Written for jack_ianto_las week 5.
Warnings: gender-bend
A/N: Really thought I was gone this week, especially since I threw away the fic I wanted to write for the prompt because I was worried it'd be offensive. But still in it!! Also: Gwil late because Lent ended Sunday and I've been reading ALL OF THE FICS. It's about 25% written or so, I'm totally working on it.

***

Jack jogged over to Ianto, surveying the remnants of the old car park with a practiced eye. Their job here was done: witnesses retconned, alien remains in neat little containment boxes, ground scrubbed clean courtesy Mrs. Gwen Cooper and her heavy-handed use of a flamethrower. The only thing left seemed to be something that Ianto was peering at, sitting on the ground down by his feet.

“Come on, Ianto. Pack it up. If it's something good we can play with it later.” Jack nudged Ianto with an elbow, winking rakishly.

To Jack's infinite disappointment, Ianto continued to stare down at the device, face gone all frowny and serious. Jack sighed and followed his gaze, trying to see if he could sort the source of Ianto's seriousness. Ianto-seriousness, after all, was a situation that always required immediate rectification.

“I'm not sure what this is,” Ianto answered him. He pointed his PDA stylus at the shiny object on the ground. Now that Jack took a moment to look at it, it looked rather like a chrome hairdryer. “And see all the depression points? I don't want to touch one of those and have it go off in my hand.”

“No,” Jack leered. “Wouldn't want that.” Ianto shot him an exasperated look, mouth still turned down. Jack frowned. Okay, so innuendo was apparently a no-go until they got this taken care of. Jack clapped his hands loudly and rubbed them together. “I know what this is,” he declared.

Ianto raised an eyebrow at him, causing Jack's grin to falter just a second before he turned it up again. “Really?” Ianto pressed. “What is it?”

Jack gazed down at the chrome hairdryer. Well, it sort of looked like that hairstyler he saw advertised... and it had the same sort of contacts, so...

Jack nodded. “Yup. This is fifty-first century technology. 'Course I recognize it.” Ianto was still looking skeptical, so Jack kept going. “See the little depressions? Those are the type of contacts on everything in the fifty-first century. And this particular little beauty,” Jack continued, really warming to the topic now, “is a hairstyler! You just point it at your head-”

Before Ianto could stop him, Jack reached down and picked the object up, turning what seemed like its front toward his own head. In his peripheral vision, Jack saw Ianto's eyes go wide as he started forward. Don't be a particle accelerator. Please don't be a particle accelerator. I don't need to regrow my head this morning. Jack closed his eyes as he pulled the trigger.

Ianto's dismayed shout – and Jack's continued not-deadness – prompted him to open his eyes. Ianto was staring at him, eyes wide and mouth wide in a perfect imitation of a blowfish. Jack grinned. “What?”

Jack's grin fell from his face. That “what” had been in a voice decidedly higher than his. He dropped the gun, looking down at himself. Oh, okay: those were breasts. Well then. Jack pulled his – now overly-large – trousers out and glanced down. No penis. Okay.

He turned to Ianto, hands held out placatingly. “Okay,” he spoke calmly, as if to a skittish weevil. “So it changed a little more than my hair-”

“A little?!”

“So – and I'm just putting this out there – I have one immediate first idea.” With a significant glance down at his new body, Jack waggled his eyebrows at Ianto. Jack was so pleased when Ianto figured out what Jack was thinking with no further explanation. He was less pleased when Ianto shot him a warning look, panic barely kept at bay by his irritation with Jack.

“Okay, okay,” Jack held out his hand, noting curiously how much smaller it was than his own. “Second idea: the chrome hairdryer got me into this mess, so...” Jack glanced down at the gun sitting at his feet where he had dropped it. Ianto's gaze followed his, horror crossing his features when he figured out what Jack was going to do.

“Jack: no.”

“Ianto: yes,” Jack fired back even as he picked up the gun.

“Jack, we have no idea-”

“Ianto: relax.” Jack pointed the gun at himself a second time. “It's me.” With a last wink to Ianto, he pulled the trigger again.

Ianto breathing a huge sigh of relief was all the confirmation Jack needed to know it had worked. He allowed himself a quieter sigh of relief. No exploding heads, then. Good.

“See?” Jack held out his arms and twirled the sex-changing gun in one hand. “Now that we know what it does,” he leaned forward, waggling his eyebrows at Ianto, “what do you say we try it out?”

With a huff Ianto snatched the gun away from Jack and shoved it into the container he had with him, sealing it with a resounding snap. Jack's shoulder sagged as Ianto turned sharply on his heel and started to walk away. But then Ianto was calling out to Jack over his shoulder: “After proper testing.”

Jack's eyes widened. With a grin, he trotted after Ianto.