FIC: Sinz Of The Past
Title: Sinz Of The Past
Series: Torchwood and many others... (Torchwood/Twilight/Highlander/Transformers/Firefly/Star Trek/Lisa Frank)
Beta: Going Commando
Rating: R/NC-17 (even my mind has given up on this.)
Summary: I don't think it will help you at this point.
Disclaimer: Each of the characters belong to their respective companies and I apologize for putting them through this.
Author's Notes: I wrote this as a special kind of crack for rengeek's birthday, which is today. He keeps trying to break my brain, so I did this especially for him. I apologize for any damage I do to your brain matter in advance. (That apology is for the innocents, not rengeek.)
Sinz Of The Past
Owen Harper didn’t usually pick up dudes, but that didn’t mean he was against it, just God help anybody who told Harkness that he would swing that way - he would have their testicles removed and hanging from the SUV rearview mirror before they could see him coming. Owen didn’t know what it was about the young man, it could have been his dark hair, his deep, brooding eyes, the soft pallor of his skin or the seeming familiarity of his face.
“So, Edward, ready to head back to mine?”
“Sure thing,” Edward replied, turning to Owen, a blithe smile on his face.
Owen couldn’t shake that he should know this kid. “So, Edward, what’s your last name?”
“Cullen,” Edward said, a soft whisper to his voice.
“Good,” Owen muttered, thankfully remembering he had never slept with anyone named Cullen before. Owen put on his sunglasses as they headed outside. Working for Torchwood, the difference between nighttime and daytime seemed nonexistent anymore. Did it matter if he picked anyone up at 11:00 at night at the club or 11:00 in the morning at the pub? This time it was the pub.
Following Edward outside, Owen stopped in his tracks as the clouds parted and the sun rained down on them. He muttered a ‘fuck’ as Edward's skin started to sparkle. Ripping off the sunglasses, Owen stared as Edward turned towards him, his face all aglitter.
“What is it?” Edward asked, coming towards him.
Owen started backing away, trying to get a hand on his weapon. “Stay back. What planet are you from?”
“What planet… What are you talking about?”
“You? You’re… oh God, you’re- what the fuck are you?”
Edward looked down at his arm and saw the glow come over and turned on his heel, taking off running down an alley. Owen let out a grunt and pulled out his weapon, chasing after Edward.
“Come back here! I’m not done with you!”
“Yes you are,” said a voice from around the corner as a sword was suddenly at Owen’s throat.
Owen trained the gun on the newcomer. “I have to catch him.”
“No, you’re not. Go home and forget you ever saw him.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Someone who wishes they didn’t know what you were about to do-” Methos lowered his blade, sliding it inside his ankle length coat.
“What I was about to do was take him in.”
“Take him in where? Your flat? Do vile and torrid things to him? I know what you’re like Owen Harper.” Methos moved into Owen’s space, nose to nose with him. “I know the kind of things you would do, and have done.”
“And how would you know that?”
Methos started to walk away, but owen wasn’t done with him yet. Grabbing Methos by the shoulder, Owen spun the older man around and was rewarded with the point of the sword trying to make a permanent dent in the tender spot of his neck.
“Forget you ever saw me, saw him and go home.”
“Fine.” Owen stepped back and started walking down the alley. Without a second thought he spun on his heels and fired a shot into Methos’ shoulder. Methos fell to the ground like a crumpled heap of humanity.
Owen sprinted over to the man, his gun aiming at the other guy’s heart. “I’ve had a really bad day, and I don’t like have a sword pointed at me.”
“Great, you knock me on my bum for making a point? Very macho.” Methos breathed heavily as he struggled to get up. Owen dropped a foot into the other guy’s midsection, keeping him down. Pulling his jacket off, Owen leaned down to press it against the wound, but noticed that the blood had stopped flowing. Ripping open Methos’ shirt - noticing the tight, taut muscles - Owen’s eyes finally trailed to the healing wound as it closed up, a small sparkle of electricity flying across the now-gone gash.
“What the fucking hell is this?”
“I can explain.”
“Like fuck you are.” Owen stood up, his hand clasped around Methos’ bare shoulder. “Get up,” he said as he dragged the other man up. “You’re going with me.”
Methos let out a wounded sigh and shrugged his shoulders, gesturing that he would follow Owen. Owen held the man by the arms and led him along the streets towards Torchwood. He couldn’t help but notice how the breeze moved the man’s shirt and made his nipples stand at attention.
Ushering Methos into the tourist office and down the dark, hidden tunnel, Owen wondered if they would be alone so he could exam the man more thoroughly. Forcing man through the barely opened cog door, Owen let out a groan as a dark haired male head popped up from under his desk.
“Um, what are you-”
“Get your ass off my chair teaboy.”
“It’s not his ass that was on your chair,” Jack Harkness replied as he stood up without a stitch on, his mini-captain at full attention. Jack’s eyes narrowed as he spotted Methos. “Owen, who the hell is this and why is he here?”
“I thought I’d fuck him all over your desk for once,” Owen retorted, manhandling Methos and pushing him down into Gwen’s chair. Owen looked up a minute as Ianto struggled to get his clothes on. “And I demand you get me a new Troll doll for my desk, since I can see the hot pink hair sticking out of his ass.”
“You never complained about it before,” Jack said, as Ianto whipped Jack’s trousers over the Captain’s head. Jack slowly put his trousers on, and reluctantly put on the undershirt Ianto nearly pushed on over his head. “Who is he?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” Owen leaned against Tosh’s desk, far away from his and stared at Methos, who pretended to inspect his nails. “Why did you stop me?”
“I had to,” Methos replied.
“Stop him from doing what?” Jack waltzed over to the pair, hands on his hips.
Methos stared Owen in the eyes, the hazel turning stormy. “I stopped him from bedding his own son.”
Jack spit out the coffee he had been drinking from the hot cup Ianto had already brought him. “He tried to do who?”
“His son.”
“What would he be, seven?” Ianto glared at Owen in shock.
“I don’t have a son!”
“Yes, you do,” Methos stated.
“And how do you know this?” Jack leaned up against Methos, his hand hard against the man’s chest, nails scratching along Methos’ nipples.
Methos let out a soft hiss. “Because I was the midwife who delivered him.”
“And you would be?” Jack tweaked one of Methos’ hard nubs.
“Dr. Benjamin Adams, and if you’re going to continue this line of questioning, perhaps we should go someplace a little more comfortable.”
Before Jack could reply, Ianto walked by, shoving a creme-filled long john donut into Jack’s open mouth. Jack struggled to suck it down as Owen took the time to shrug off his leather coat. Owen ran down to Autopsy, grabbed some antiseptic and gauze and hurried back upstairs. He began to swipe away the dried blood.
“The boy was about 20, not seven, and I never had a kid. I would have had to be 12 when he was born.” Owen leaned back on his heels, kneeling in front of Methos. “Bollocks to hell, I don’t think he was from this planet.”
“Edward is, but his Mom wasn’t.”
“You knew her?” Ianto asked as he finished buttoning up his waistcoat.
“Barely. She had a unique pregnancy and was very unique herself so I got called in before anyone thought of slaughtering her, or taking more Opium.”
“Opium?”
“Edward was born in 1901. June 20th to be exact.”
“That’s not possible, he looked like he was-” Owen’s voice trailed off as he stared at Jack.
“How would you have been around in 1901?” Ianto asked Methos.
Before any of the men could respond, Myfanwy, their friendly neighbourhood pterandon came swooping down from her nest, something shiny in her beak. It squawked and snarled along with her, and looked like it was trying to get away. A laser beam shot out from the thing’s face and hit Myfanwy, making her drop the object. A dark grey metallic puma crashed to the metal grating around the fountain’s basin that took center stage in their hidden sci-fi office.
“What the hell is that thing?” Jack asked as he strode towards it.
“I don’t know, but it ravaged poor Myfanwy. My poor baby,” Ianto said, trying to search out the pterandon.
The cat made out of metal, which was as tall as Jack on all fours, ran out the still open cog door and could be heard clomping up the steps.
“It’s headed for the public! Hurry!” Jack took off after it, pulling out a weapon from his behind. Owen and Methos followed after him. They cornered it by the railings that separated the Plass from the Bay.
Before it could attack them, a shiny car with the number 38 emblazoned on it’s sides roared past them, knocking Jack down to the ground, killing him. Owen paid Jack no attention and watched in awe as the car unfolded itself, pointing a gun at the kitty cat.
“All right, you have caused enough trouble. Just because Optimus Prime is having some alone time with Alita One doesn’t mean you can run amuck.” The cat snarled at the talking car and took off. The race car quickly folded itself back into shape, leaving a cloud of smoke behind him as it took off after the metal creature.
Jack sat up with a rather loud gasp, eyes looking around. “What happened? Where did it go?”
“I think it’s sitter came and got it,” Methos retorted. Methos held a hand out and helped Jack to his feet, trying to ignore Jack stumbling into him and grinding up against him.
All three men headed back down towards the Hub, Owen and Methos plopping into Tosh and Gwen’s chairs respectively. Jack hopped up on the corner of Ianto’s desk, rubbing his chest, grimacing every couple of minutes. His eyes caught Methos’ and Jack’s memory began to jog in place.
“Do I know you from somewhere?”
“I just have that kind of face,” Methos said.
Jack shrugged his eyebrows. “All right, you never told us how you happened to be around in 1901 and how both you and Owen’s supposed son ended up here not looking over the age of 40.”
“40?”
“I’m giving you a couple of years for good genetics.”
“Fine.” Methos let out a deep sigh. “I guess you being Torchwood, what I am about to tell you is nothing out of the ordinary.”
“How do you know we’re Torchwood?” Ianto asked as he entered with a fresh cup of coffee for Jack.
“The Watchers have known about you for years.”
“Who the fuck are the Watchers?”
Methos smirked at the three men. “Well now, which question do you want me to answer first?”
“How is this Edward boy Owen’s son?”
Before Methos could answer there was a flash of blue and a man with blonde hair wearing green coveralls and a Hawaiian shirt started dancing across the room. “I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic! You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere…”
The four men watched with their mouths open as the singing man disappeared into the kitchenette, gyrating to each word of the song. Suddenly there was another flash of blue light and a tall, gorgeous woman with dark hair and a warrior’s demeanour appeared. She looked around the Hub with a scary intensity. All four men pointed towards the kitchen and she gave them a nod, heading straight there. A minute later she was pulling the man in the Hawaiian shirt out of the kitchen and smothering him with kisses.
“Thanks for keeping my husband out of trouble,” Zoe said breathlessly.
“Uh, sure,” Jack said. “You wouldn’t mind telling me how you did that? How you got here?”
“Oh, we found a whole case of these in some cargo we lifted off a transport ship,” the woman said, showing off a brown leather strap that both here and the Wash were wearing. The strap looked amazingly similar to Jack’s. The man began to growl and nibble at Zoe’s neck. “Sorry, I think I have to go,” Zoe replied, giggling. She pressed a button on the wrist strap and they were gone.
“SO NOT FAIR!” jack sounded like a whiny two year old, but Ianto quickly shut him up with a deep kiss. Ianto continued to keep Jack quiet as he tongue pushed into Jack’s mouth running along Jack’s teeth and sliding around Jack’s tongue.
Owen stood up and bumped into the two lovebirds, knocking them apart. Jack gave Owen a mischievous grin and grabbed his medic, smothering Owen with a penetrating kiss of his own. Jack pulled away and hopped back up on Ianto’s desk.
“So, where were we? Oh yes! How is Edward Owen’s son, why was he born in 1901, and why was his pregnancy special?”
“Edward was born in 1901 because as far as I can tell, when the mother was trying to get away from Earth, she instead got transported back in time. It seems since she was pregnant with an Earth child she was stuck here until the pregnancy was complete.”
“But I don’t remember sleeping with an alien!”
“She’s technically not an alien, she’s a unicorn.”
Ianto dropped the papers he had been carrying and looked from Owen to Methos. Methso bent down, helping Ianto pick up the papers, showing off how his jeans hugged his round, scrumptious arse. All Owen wanted to do was bite Methos’ arse.
“Now I remember you!” Jack seemed to crow with delight as Methos sat back down. “Did you use to hang around Picadilly Circus in the 1930’s”
“Yes,” Methos said, letting out a sigh. “I was wondering when you would remember.”
“You and Dr. Adams?” Ianto looked from Jack to Methos.
“Yeah…” Jack had a faraway look in his eyes and smile so big anything would fit in his mouth. “Those were some intense nights.”
“YOU WERE SAYING?” Owen threw a stapler from Gwen’s desk at Jack, hitting him in the head. Owen turned to Methos. “I think I would remember fucking a unicorn. I never did that.”
“The unicorn was a special one, from the planet Lisas Frankas. It glittered, pooped rainbows and spread cheer wherever it went. It showed me a picture of you in the glitter from its horn.”
“And when did this supposedly happen?”
“September 18, 2008.”
“You’ve got it fucked up. I wasn’t even at work that day.”
“Yes you were,” Jack muttered.
“No, I wasn’t. I don’t even remember what I did that day- Oh, you fucking arsemonkey.”
“I didn’t retcon you.”
“What happened?” Ianto interceded with the voice of reason.
“Owen and I went into the field that day and Owen might have gotten sprayed with alien skunk pheremones. Worse than the most evil of hangovers after a night out drinking with Churchill and Thatcher and then taking old Maggie to the heights of-”
“You couldn’t have drank with both Churchill and Thatcher at the same time,” Ianto stated.
“No, but they were both intense weekends. Anyway, you were out of your mind and wouldn’t remember anything. I took you home, but apparently you left after I tucked you in.”
“And I fucked a rainbow unicorn, and had a kid. Is that why he glows?”
“He glows?”
“Mostly,” Methos filled in. “He’s also a vampire.”
Jack spit out the coffee he had been trying to drink, dribbling some on his shirt. Peeling his undershirt off his once dead, now sweaty body, Jack tossed it aside as a gold beam materialised in front of them and three burly men with cranial ridges stood at attention, bat’tlehs at the ready. Methos quickly stood up, pulling his Ivanhoe from his coat and bowed before them.
“Qay ghoS bel.”
The Klingons looked at Methos, and then without a word, hit a communicator button and disappeared in a cloud of gold sparkle.
“Thank you for that, I think,” Jack said. “They aren;t coming back later for tea are they?”
“No, maybe tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Jack and Methos looked over at Owen, who kept mumbling to himself.
“This is what going mad feels like. This is what it feels like,” Owen said.
“I think the boy needs cheering up,” Methos said.
“I think you may be right.”
Before Owen knew it, he had been divested of all his clothes and felt three pairs of hands sliding all over his body. The hands moved through his hair and along all his cheeks, gripped his cock-
Owen awoke with a start, his heart pounding. It was just a dream, it was all a dream. Served him right for drinking some of Jack’s private reserve. Owen got his breathing under control and laid his sweaty, naked body back down on the purple satin sheets. Turning his head he saw a tuft of dark hair sticking out above a well pronounced nose. The man he had been sleeping with opened his eyes, a sleepy hazel greeted him.
“You okay?”
“He will be,” Jack said, leaning over Methos, kissing Owen on the lips. “Almost time for breakfast anyway. If you thought Ianto was good in bed, you should taste his eggs benedict. His sauce is like an orgasm in your mouth.”
Owen curled up under the covers, his eyes shut tight.
Series: Torchwood and many others... (Torchwood/Twilight/Highlander/Transformers/Firefly/Star Trek/Lisa Frank)
Beta: Going Commando
Rating: R/NC-17 (even my mind has given up on this.)
Summary: I don't think it will help you at this point.
Disclaimer: Each of the characters belong to their respective companies and I apologize for putting them through this.
Author's Notes: I wrote this as a special kind of crack for rengeek's birthday, which is today. He keeps trying to break my brain, so I did this especially for him. I apologize for any damage I do to your brain matter in advance. (That apology is for the innocents, not rengeek.)
Sinz Of The Past
Owen Harper didn’t usually pick up dudes, but that didn’t mean he was against it, just God help anybody who told Harkness that he would swing that way - he would have their testicles removed and hanging from the SUV rearview mirror before they could see him coming. Owen didn’t know what it was about the young man, it could have been his dark hair, his deep, brooding eyes, the soft pallor of his skin or the seeming familiarity of his face.
“So, Edward, ready to head back to mine?”
“Sure thing,” Edward replied, turning to Owen, a blithe smile on his face.
Owen couldn’t shake that he should know this kid. “So, Edward, what’s your last name?”
“Cullen,” Edward said, a soft whisper to his voice.
“Good,” Owen muttered, thankfully remembering he had never slept with anyone named Cullen before. Owen put on his sunglasses as they headed outside. Working for Torchwood, the difference between nighttime and daytime seemed nonexistent anymore. Did it matter if he picked anyone up at 11:00 at night at the club or 11:00 in the morning at the pub? This time it was the pub.
Following Edward outside, Owen stopped in his tracks as the clouds parted and the sun rained down on them. He muttered a ‘fuck’ as Edward's skin started to sparkle. Ripping off the sunglasses, Owen stared as Edward turned towards him, his face all aglitter.
“What is it?” Edward asked, coming towards him.
Owen started backing away, trying to get a hand on his weapon. “Stay back. What planet are you from?”
“What planet… What are you talking about?”
“You? You’re… oh God, you’re- what the fuck are you?”
Edward looked down at his arm and saw the glow come over and turned on his heel, taking off running down an alley. Owen let out a grunt and pulled out his weapon, chasing after Edward.
“Come back here! I’m not done with you!”
“Yes you are,” said a voice from around the corner as a sword was suddenly at Owen’s throat.
Owen trained the gun on the newcomer. “I have to catch him.”
“No, you’re not. Go home and forget you ever saw him.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Someone who wishes they didn’t know what you were about to do-” Methos lowered his blade, sliding it inside his ankle length coat.
“What I was about to do was take him in.”
“Take him in where? Your flat? Do vile and torrid things to him? I know what you’re like Owen Harper.” Methos moved into Owen’s space, nose to nose with him. “I know the kind of things you would do, and have done.”
“And how would you know that?”
Methos started to walk away, but owen wasn’t done with him yet. Grabbing Methos by the shoulder, Owen spun the older man around and was rewarded with the point of the sword trying to make a permanent dent in the tender spot of his neck.
“Forget you ever saw me, saw him and go home.”
“Fine.” Owen stepped back and started walking down the alley. Without a second thought he spun on his heels and fired a shot into Methos’ shoulder. Methos fell to the ground like a crumpled heap of humanity.
Owen sprinted over to the man, his gun aiming at the other guy’s heart. “I’ve had a really bad day, and I don’t like have a sword pointed at me.”
“Great, you knock me on my bum for making a point? Very macho.” Methos breathed heavily as he struggled to get up. Owen dropped a foot into the other guy’s midsection, keeping him down. Pulling his jacket off, Owen leaned down to press it against the wound, but noticed that the blood had stopped flowing. Ripping open Methos’ shirt - noticing the tight, taut muscles - Owen’s eyes finally trailed to the healing wound as it closed up, a small sparkle of electricity flying across the now-gone gash.
“What the fucking hell is this?”
“I can explain.”
“Like fuck you are.” Owen stood up, his hand clasped around Methos’ bare shoulder. “Get up,” he said as he dragged the other man up. “You’re going with me.”
Methos let out a wounded sigh and shrugged his shoulders, gesturing that he would follow Owen. Owen held the man by the arms and led him along the streets towards Torchwood. He couldn’t help but notice how the breeze moved the man’s shirt and made his nipples stand at attention.
Ushering Methos into the tourist office and down the dark, hidden tunnel, Owen wondered if they would be alone so he could exam the man more thoroughly. Forcing man through the barely opened cog door, Owen let out a groan as a dark haired male head popped up from under his desk.
“Um, what are you-”
“Get your ass off my chair teaboy.”
“It’s not his ass that was on your chair,” Jack Harkness replied as he stood up without a stitch on, his mini-captain at full attention. Jack’s eyes narrowed as he spotted Methos. “Owen, who the hell is this and why is he here?”
“I thought I’d fuck him all over your desk for once,” Owen retorted, manhandling Methos and pushing him down into Gwen’s chair. Owen looked up a minute as Ianto struggled to get his clothes on. “And I demand you get me a new Troll doll for my desk, since I can see the hot pink hair sticking out of his ass.”
“You never complained about it before,” Jack said, as Ianto whipped Jack’s trousers over the Captain’s head. Jack slowly put his trousers on, and reluctantly put on the undershirt Ianto nearly pushed on over his head. “Who is he?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” Owen leaned against Tosh’s desk, far away from his and stared at Methos, who pretended to inspect his nails. “Why did you stop me?”
“I had to,” Methos replied.
“Stop him from doing what?” Jack waltzed over to the pair, hands on his hips.
Methos stared Owen in the eyes, the hazel turning stormy. “I stopped him from bedding his own son.”
Jack spit out the coffee he had been drinking from the hot cup Ianto had already brought him. “He tried to do who?”
“His son.”
“What would he be, seven?” Ianto glared at Owen in shock.
“I don’t have a son!”
“Yes, you do,” Methos stated.
“And how do you know this?” Jack leaned up against Methos, his hand hard against the man’s chest, nails scratching along Methos’ nipples.
Methos let out a soft hiss. “Because I was the midwife who delivered him.”
“And you would be?” Jack tweaked one of Methos’ hard nubs.
“Dr. Benjamin Adams, and if you’re going to continue this line of questioning, perhaps we should go someplace a little more comfortable.”
Before Jack could reply, Ianto walked by, shoving a creme-filled long john donut into Jack’s open mouth. Jack struggled to suck it down as Owen took the time to shrug off his leather coat. Owen ran down to Autopsy, grabbed some antiseptic and gauze and hurried back upstairs. He began to swipe away the dried blood.
“The boy was about 20, not seven, and I never had a kid. I would have had to be 12 when he was born.” Owen leaned back on his heels, kneeling in front of Methos. “Bollocks to hell, I don’t think he was from this planet.”
“Edward is, but his Mom wasn’t.”
“You knew her?” Ianto asked as he finished buttoning up his waistcoat.
“Barely. She had a unique pregnancy and was very unique herself so I got called in before anyone thought of slaughtering her, or taking more Opium.”
“Opium?”
“Edward was born in 1901. June 20th to be exact.”
“That’s not possible, he looked like he was-” Owen’s voice trailed off as he stared at Jack.
“How would you have been around in 1901?” Ianto asked Methos.
Before any of the men could respond, Myfanwy, their friendly neighbourhood pterandon came swooping down from her nest, something shiny in her beak. It squawked and snarled along with her, and looked like it was trying to get away. A laser beam shot out from the thing’s face and hit Myfanwy, making her drop the object. A dark grey metallic puma crashed to the metal grating around the fountain’s basin that took center stage in their hidden sci-fi office.
“What the hell is that thing?” Jack asked as he strode towards it.
“I don’t know, but it ravaged poor Myfanwy. My poor baby,” Ianto said, trying to search out the pterandon.
The cat made out of metal, which was as tall as Jack on all fours, ran out the still open cog door and could be heard clomping up the steps.
“It’s headed for the public! Hurry!” Jack took off after it, pulling out a weapon from his behind. Owen and Methos followed after him. They cornered it by the railings that separated the Plass from the Bay.
Before it could attack them, a shiny car with the number 38 emblazoned on it’s sides roared past them, knocking Jack down to the ground, killing him. Owen paid Jack no attention and watched in awe as the car unfolded itself, pointing a gun at the kitty cat.
“All right, you have caused enough trouble. Just because Optimus Prime is having some alone time with Alita One doesn’t mean you can run amuck.” The cat snarled at the talking car and took off. The race car quickly folded itself back into shape, leaving a cloud of smoke behind him as it took off after the metal creature.
Jack sat up with a rather loud gasp, eyes looking around. “What happened? Where did it go?”
“I think it’s sitter came and got it,” Methos retorted. Methos held a hand out and helped Jack to his feet, trying to ignore Jack stumbling into him and grinding up against him.
All three men headed back down towards the Hub, Owen and Methos plopping into Tosh and Gwen’s chairs respectively. Jack hopped up on the corner of Ianto’s desk, rubbing his chest, grimacing every couple of minutes. His eyes caught Methos’ and Jack’s memory began to jog in place.
“Do I know you from somewhere?”
“I just have that kind of face,” Methos said.
Jack shrugged his eyebrows. “All right, you never told us how you happened to be around in 1901 and how both you and Owen’s supposed son ended up here not looking over the age of 40.”
“40?”
“I’m giving you a couple of years for good genetics.”
“Fine.” Methos let out a deep sigh. “I guess you being Torchwood, what I am about to tell you is nothing out of the ordinary.”
“How do you know we’re Torchwood?” Ianto asked as he entered with a fresh cup of coffee for Jack.
“The Watchers have known about you for years.”
“Who the fuck are the Watchers?”
Methos smirked at the three men. “Well now, which question do you want me to answer first?”
“How is this Edward boy Owen’s son?”
Before Methos could answer there was a flash of blue and a man with blonde hair wearing green coveralls and a Hawaiian shirt started dancing across the room. “I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic! You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere…”
The four men watched with their mouths open as the singing man disappeared into the kitchenette, gyrating to each word of the song. Suddenly there was another flash of blue light and a tall, gorgeous woman with dark hair and a warrior’s demeanour appeared. She looked around the Hub with a scary intensity. All four men pointed towards the kitchen and she gave them a nod, heading straight there. A minute later she was pulling the man in the Hawaiian shirt out of the kitchen and smothering him with kisses.
“Thanks for keeping my husband out of trouble,” Zoe said breathlessly.
“Uh, sure,” Jack said. “You wouldn’t mind telling me how you did that? How you got here?”
“Oh, we found a whole case of these in some cargo we lifted off a transport ship,” the woman said, showing off a brown leather strap that both here and the Wash were wearing. The strap looked amazingly similar to Jack’s. The man began to growl and nibble at Zoe’s neck. “Sorry, I think I have to go,” Zoe replied, giggling. She pressed a button on the wrist strap and they were gone.
“SO NOT FAIR!” jack sounded like a whiny two year old, but Ianto quickly shut him up with a deep kiss. Ianto continued to keep Jack quiet as he tongue pushed into Jack’s mouth running along Jack’s teeth and sliding around Jack’s tongue.
Owen stood up and bumped into the two lovebirds, knocking them apart. Jack gave Owen a mischievous grin and grabbed his medic, smothering Owen with a penetrating kiss of his own. Jack pulled away and hopped back up on Ianto’s desk.
“So, where were we? Oh yes! How is Edward Owen’s son, why was he born in 1901, and why was his pregnancy special?”
“Edward was born in 1901 because as far as I can tell, when the mother was trying to get away from Earth, she instead got transported back in time. It seems since she was pregnant with an Earth child she was stuck here until the pregnancy was complete.”
“But I don’t remember sleeping with an alien!”
“She’s technically not an alien, she’s a unicorn.”
Ianto dropped the papers he had been carrying and looked from Owen to Methos. Methso bent down, helping Ianto pick up the papers, showing off how his jeans hugged his round, scrumptious arse. All Owen wanted to do was bite Methos’ arse.
“Now I remember you!” Jack seemed to crow with delight as Methos sat back down. “Did you use to hang around Picadilly Circus in the 1930’s”
“Yes,” Methos said, letting out a sigh. “I was wondering when you would remember.”
“You and Dr. Adams?” Ianto looked from Jack to Methos.
“Yeah…” Jack had a faraway look in his eyes and smile so big anything would fit in his mouth. “Those were some intense nights.”
“YOU WERE SAYING?” Owen threw a stapler from Gwen’s desk at Jack, hitting him in the head. Owen turned to Methos. “I think I would remember fucking a unicorn. I never did that.”
“The unicorn was a special one, from the planet Lisas Frankas. It glittered, pooped rainbows and spread cheer wherever it went. It showed me a picture of you in the glitter from its horn.”
“And when did this supposedly happen?”
“September 18, 2008.”
“You’ve got it fucked up. I wasn’t even at work that day.”
“Yes you were,” Jack muttered.
“No, I wasn’t. I don’t even remember what I did that day- Oh, you fucking arsemonkey.”
“I didn’t retcon you.”
“What happened?” Ianto interceded with the voice of reason.
“Owen and I went into the field that day and Owen might have gotten sprayed with alien skunk pheremones. Worse than the most evil of hangovers after a night out drinking with Churchill and Thatcher and then taking old Maggie to the heights of-”
“You couldn’t have drank with both Churchill and Thatcher at the same time,” Ianto stated.
“No, but they were both intense weekends. Anyway, you were out of your mind and wouldn’t remember anything. I took you home, but apparently you left after I tucked you in.”
“And I fucked a rainbow unicorn, and had a kid. Is that why he glows?”
“He glows?”
“Mostly,” Methos filled in. “He’s also a vampire.”
Jack spit out the coffee he had been trying to drink, dribbling some on his shirt. Peeling his undershirt off his once dead, now sweaty body, Jack tossed it aside as a gold beam materialised in front of them and three burly men with cranial ridges stood at attention, bat’tlehs at the ready. Methos quickly stood up, pulling his Ivanhoe from his coat and bowed before them.
“Qay ghoS bel.”
The Klingons looked at Methos, and then without a word, hit a communicator button and disappeared in a cloud of gold sparkle.
“Thank you for that, I think,” Jack said. “They aren;t coming back later for tea are they?”
“No, maybe tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Jack and Methos looked over at Owen, who kept mumbling to himself.
“This is what going mad feels like. This is what it feels like,” Owen said.
“I think the boy needs cheering up,” Methos said.
“I think you may be right.”
Before Owen knew it, he had been divested of all his clothes and felt three pairs of hands sliding all over his body. The hands moved through his hair and along all his cheeks, gripped his cock-
Owen awoke with a start, his heart pounding. It was just a dream, it was all a dream. Served him right for drinking some of Jack’s private reserve. Owen got his breathing under control and laid his sweaty, naked body back down on the purple satin sheets. Turning his head he saw a tuft of dark hair sticking out above a well pronounced nose. The man he had been sleeping with opened his eyes, a sleepy hazel greeted him.
“You okay?”
“He will be,” Jack said, leaning over Methos, kissing Owen on the lips. “Almost time for breakfast anyway. If you thought Ianto was good in bed, you should taste his eggs benedict. His sauce is like an orgasm in your mouth.”
Owen curled up under the covers, his eyes shut tight.