Double Drabble: Worrying
Title: Worrying
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Rhys, Gwen.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 657: Distant / Distance at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Gwen is distant, and Rhys is worried.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
Gwen had seemed distant ever since her work took her to the Brecon Beacons. When Rhys asked her what was wrong she said she was fine, but she wouldn’t take her clothes off in front of him and she didn’t want to be touched. That was odd, because she usually loved his big bearhugs, said they made her feel safe and loved. Not anymore, apparently.
She wouldn’t talk to him, so he worried. Was there someone else? That bloke she worked for maybe, the American with the white teeth and fancy coat? Rhys found himself going through her clothes when he did the laundry, looking for tell-tale signs, traces of another man’s cologne or aftershave, but Gwen wore perfume and Rhys’ sense of smell had never been that good when it came to fragrances.
In all the time they’d been together, Rhys had never had reason to doubt Gwen’s fidelity until now, but she’d changed so much over the last couple of months. He had to know.
“What’s going on, Gwen? Why won’t you let me touch you?”
She dropped her gaze. “I didn’t want to worry you. I got shot, but I’m almost healed.”
Rhys wished he hadn’t asked.
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Rhys, Gwen.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 657: Distant / Distance at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Gwen is distant, and Rhys is worried.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
Gwen had seemed distant ever since her work took her to the Brecon Beacons. When Rhys asked her what was wrong she said she was fine, but she wouldn’t take her clothes off in front of him and she didn’t want to be touched. That was odd, because she usually loved his big bearhugs, said they made her feel safe and loved. Not anymore, apparently.
She wouldn’t talk to him, so he worried. Was there someone else? That bloke she worked for maybe, the American with the white teeth and fancy coat? Rhys found himself going through her clothes when he did the laundry, looking for tell-tale signs, traces of another man’s cologne or aftershave, but Gwen wore perfume and Rhys’ sense of smell had never been that good when it came to fragrances.
In all the time they’d been together, Rhys had never had reason to doubt Gwen’s fidelity until now, but she’d changed so much over the last couple of months. He had to know.
“What’s going on, Gwen? Why won’t you let me touch you?”
She dropped her gaze. “I didn’t want to worry you. I got shot, but I’m almost healed.”
Rhys wished he hadn’t asked.
The End