fic: Of Rose Petals and Conversation
Of Rose Petals and Conversation
Rating: PG at most
Word Count: 354
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Mentions of Tosh/Owen
Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with the series, blah blah.
Summary: Tosh reminisces about past Valentines Days'
Spoilers: Up through 2x06 Reset. If you haven't seen that episode and don't want to be spoiled, don't read this.
Author's Note: I've got nothing really to say in the notes about this one, except it's probably one of my favourites, out of everything I've ever written. Oh, also, I had to mess around with the timeline a little bit to make this work.
For once in her life, Tosh was the last to arrive at work at work. When she got to her desk, she was so intent on booting up her computer and throwing herself fully back into working on the latest alien translation program, that she almost didn’t notice the single red rose lying at her work station.
Pausing, she took off her glasses slowly and picked it up. “Who is this from?”
Gwen looked over from her own desk, where she had an identical rose. She’d placed it in a coffee mug with water to keep it fresh-it was the closest thing to a vase she could find. “It’s from Jack.”
“Oh.” Tosh rotated it slowly in her fingers, watching the light catch the deep red of the petals, making them shine. “You know, the first year I stared working here, Owen bought me a rose on Valentines Day.” A smile ghosted over her lips at the memory.
“Did he?” Gwen asked, sounding surprised.
Tosh nodded, “He gave it to me right as I was walking in to work, and kissed me on the cheek.” She shook her head in amusement at the memory, “Then he told me not to read anything into it, because he’d found it on the street. ‘Probably fallen from someone’s bouquet,’ he said. He thought I’d like it, since I probably wouldn’t be getting any others.”
Gwen quirked an eyebrow. “How very Owen,” she remarked dryly.
“Later that day, Ianto told me he’d found a receipt from a flower shop. It had fallen out of Owen’s pocket.” Tosh bit her lower lip, to keep from grinning at the memory. Her fingertips danced across the side of the silky rose petal. She’d kept Owen’s flower from that day, dried and pressed between the pages of a book. She still looked at it sometimes.
Gwen gave her a soft smile that could have been almost pitying and Tosh shrugged, setting the rose back on her desk.
“How very Owen, indeed,” she agreed quietly, before putting her glasses back on and returning to her work.
Owen had been dead six days.
Rating: PG at most
Word Count: 354
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Mentions of Tosh/Owen
Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with the series, blah blah.
Summary: Tosh reminisces about past Valentines Days'
Spoilers: Up through 2x06 Reset. If you haven't seen that episode and don't want to be spoiled, don't read this.
Author's Note: I've got nothing really to say in the notes about this one, except it's probably one of my favourites, out of everything I've ever written. Oh, also, I had to mess around with the timeline a little bit to make this work.
For once in her life, Tosh was the last to arrive at work at work. When she got to her desk, she was so intent on booting up her computer and throwing herself fully back into working on the latest alien translation program, that she almost didn’t notice the single red rose lying at her work station.
Pausing, she took off her glasses slowly and picked it up. “Who is this from?”
Gwen looked over from her own desk, where she had an identical rose. She’d placed it in a coffee mug with water to keep it fresh-it was the closest thing to a vase she could find. “It’s from Jack.”
“Oh.” Tosh rotated it slowly in her fingers, watching the light catch the deep red of the petals, making them shine. “You know, the first year I stared working here, Owen bought me a rose on Valentines Day.” A smile ghosted over her lips at the memory.
“Did he?” Gwen asked, sounding surprised.
Tosh nodded, “He gave it to me right as I was walking in to work, and kissed me on the cheek.” She shook her head in amusement at the memory, “Then he told me not to read anything into it, because he’d found it on the street. ‘Probably fallen from someone’s bouquet,’ he said. He thought I’d like it, since I probably wouldn’t be getting any others.”
Gwen quirked an eyebrow. “How very Owen,” she remarked dryly.
“Later that day, Ianto told me he’d found a receipt from a flower shop. It had fallen out of Owen’s pocket.” Tosh bit her lower lip, to keep from grinning at the memory. Her fingertips danced across the side of the silky rose petal. She’d kept Owen’s flower from that day, dried and pressed between the pages of a book. She still looked at it sometimes.
Gwen gave her a soft smile that could have been almost pitying and Tosh shrugged, setting the rose back on her desk.
“How very Owen, indeed,” she agreed quietly, before putting her glasses back on and returning to her work.
Owen had been dead six days.