Title: The Real Thing
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Kids, Fluffs.
Summary: Ianto knows an artificial lawn was the right choice for the roof garden, but nothing beats the real thing.
Word Count: 500
Written For: Prompt 154: Artificial at anythingdrabble.
Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood, or the characters.
There were, Ianto decided, definite benefits to having a lawn of artificial grass rather than the living kind. It dried out quite quickly after rain which, this being Wales, was a regular occurrence. It was also mercifully free of muddy patches, didn't get grass stains on clothes, and didn't get worn away by the boisterous activities of their young children. It looked green and beautiful all year round, whatever the weather, never had weeds popping up in it, or moss choking it, and since it didn't grow there was no need to mow it. In short, it had all the benefits of grass in terms of providing a safe surface for play but with none of the downsides.
The kids loved it because it was soft and hardwearing, warm to lie on in the summer, and unlike their friends whose gardens had real lawns, they never got told to keep off the grass because it was too wet to play on. Even Nosy and the Flufflets like it, because the surface provided good traction for speedy slithering, and it was nice to roll and wriggle on.
It was practical; the garden was on the roof of what had once been a warehouse and while there were plenty of raised beds and planters growing flowers, fruit, and vegetables, it would have been problematic having such a massive lawn area using real grass. Putting in a decent depth of soil beneath the turf, and installing proper drainage, plus a watering system for dry weather, the weight alone would probably have been too much for even the reinforced roof to handle, especially in heavy rain.
No, the artificial turf had been the right choice when he and Jack constructed their roof garden, and was still the right choice now, but Ianto couldn't deny that he missed the genuine article.
Stretched out on a picnic blanket in the shade of one of Bute Park's big old oak trees, the children playing nearby, shouting and laughing as they threw Frisbees back and forth, Ianto breathed deeply, inhaling the delicious aroma of freshly mown grass. One hand trailed off the blanket, fingers combing through the short blades, feeling them cool and living beneath his fingertips. He almost felt he could sense them growing.
Scientists could do some amazing things these days. They could create artificial grass that looked so similar to the real thing that at least from a distance it could fool the eyes, but they had yet to make anything that really felt like natural grass, and the artificial stuff always smelled vaguely of plastic or rubber, there was none of the fresh, green smell that was filling the air here. As much of a time-saver as the fake kind might be, and as grateful as he was for its many benefits, he would always prefer proper grass, in all its infinite varieties.
So what if the kids got mud and grass stains all over their clothes? Getting dirty wouldn't do them any harm.