TW fic: "Bitter Drunk" (R, 608 words, between S1 and S2, Team minus Jack, The Alcohol Annals)
Title: Bitter Drunk
Rating: R for language
Word Count: 608
Characters: Team minus Jack
Setting: Between S1 and S2
Summary: Owen's a bitter, ranting drunk. That doesn't mean he's wrong, though.
Series: The Alcohol Annals
Teaser: Owen wavered unsteadily on the edge of the medical table, gripping the lip with both hands. "Being drunk is supposed to be fun," he said. "And there should be sex."
Bitter Drunk
"This," Owen said carefully, "is a violation of my drunkard's rights."
"And why would that be," Gwen said flatly, crossing her arms across her chest.
Owen wavered unsteadily on the edge of the medical table, gripping the lip with both hands. "Being drunk is supposed to be fun," he said. "And there should be sex."
"Some people become horribly depressed when they're drunk," Ianto pointed out, leaning casually against the railing above the autopsy pit.
"It makes me sleepy," Tosh put in, standing next to him.
Owen looked up at Gwen imploringly.
"I don't know what you expect me to do, Owen!" she cried. "You needed an antidote for the alien poison and this is what we had. The side effects are mild but I can't just let you run out to a club or something. What if you start puking up that yellow stuff again?"
"You need to stay in the Hub for medical observation," Tosh said sternly. "If it were any one of us in this situation, that's exactly what you'd say."
"And then you'd stick us with very large needles," Ianto added.
"Only if it was you," Owen sneered.
"Can't get a poke at him the normal way?" Tosh asked, then bit her lip, eyes sparking.
Ianto smiled and leaned over to her. "He's too cheap to buy me dinner first," he said.
"Still looking for someone to replace Jack in your sad little fantasies, then?" Owen spat. "Thanks, but no thanks." He tilted his head to the side and tapped a finger against his lips. "Maybe you and Tosh should give it a go," he said, widening his bloodshot eyes. "If she's not still pining for her serial killer girlfriend, that is."
Tosh's mouth hardened. "Give it a rest," she hissed, and stalked away.
Ianto wavered at the railing, looking after her as if he might follow.
"That's enough," said Gwen, hands on hips. "We're a team, alright? That means we care about each other and treat each other with respect." She made her big brown eyes look as authoritative as possible, mouth firm.
"No we don't," said Owen. "The only reason we think we like each other is because no-one else knows what we do. Not that we'd have great social lives without the secrecy, because let's face it, we're a bunch of sad wankers. The longest relationship Tosh has ever had is with a motherboard, and were you actually dating Lisa, Ianto, or did you pull her out of the wreckage to be a fucktoy?"
"Don't," Ianto said dangerously, eyes slitting.
"I'll say what I want!" Owen yelled. "The only people who make it in Torchwood are the people who don't have anything to lose. That's how they recruit us. Dunno how we got you, Sweetcheeks," he growled at Gwen, "unless playing house with Chubby isn't much to live for."
Gwen went very still, cheeks flushing. "Fine," she said tightly. "Fine then! Go to the clubs. Puke alien shit all over yourself for all I care. Just go ahead and die, Owen, it's what you've been looking forward to all this time!" Her voice echoed sharply against the white tile and she ran off, hand pressed against her mouth.
Owen slid off the autopsy table, wobbled, slid half-glances at Ianto straight-back and silent at the railing. "God bless you, Jack," he muttered. "Wherever you went off to can't be more shit than this. Don't blame him, really!" he called out, grabbing his jacket and staggering toward the Hub door. "I'd fuck off, too, if I ever got the chance!"
No-one called back, and Owen's shoulders dropped as the cog door rolled shut.
.
Rating: R for language
Word Count: 608
Characters: Team minus Jack
Setting: Between S1 and S2
Summary: Owen's a bitter, ranting drunk. That doesn't mean he's wrong, though.
Series: The Alcohol Annals
Teaser: Owen wavered unsteadily on the edge of the medical table, gripping the lip with both hands. "Being drunk is supposed to be fun," he said. "And there should be sex."
Bitter Drunk
"This," Owen said carefully, "is a violation of my drunkard's rights."
"And why would that be," Gwen said flatly, crossing her arms across her chest.
Owen wavered unsteadily on the edge of the medical table, gripping the lip with both hands. "Being drunk is supposed to be fun," he said. "And there should be sex."
"Some people become horribly depressed when they're drunk," Ianto pointed out, leaning casually against the railing above the autopsy pit.
"It makes me sleepy," Tosh put in, standing next to him.
Owen looked up at Gwen imploringly.
"I don't know what you expect me to do, Owen!" she cried. "You needed an antidote for the alien poison and this is what we had. The side effects are mild but I can't just let you run out to a club or something. What if you start puking up that yellow stuff again?"
"You need to stay in the Hub for medical observation," Tosh said sternly. "If it were any one of us in this situation, that's exactly what you'd say."
"And then you'd stick us with very large needles," Ianto added.
"Only if it was you," Owen sneered.
"Can't get a poke at him the normal way?" Tosh asked, then bit her lip, eyes sparking.
Ianto smiled and leaned over to her. "He's too cheap to buy me dinner first," he said.
"Still looking for someone to replace Jack in your sad little fantasies, then?" Owen spat. "Thanks, but no thanks." He tilted his head to the side and tapped a finger against his lips. "Maybe you and Tosh should give it a go," he said, widening his bloodshot eyes. "If she's not still pining for her serial killer girlfriend, that is."
Tosh's mouth hardened. "Give it a rest," she hissed, and stalked away.
Ianto wavered at the railing, looking after her as if he might follow.
"That's enough," said Gwen, hands on hips. "We're a team, alright? That means we care about each other and treat each other with respect." She made her big brown eyes look as authoritative as possible, mouth firm.
"No we don't," said Owen. "The only reason we think we like each other is because no-one else knows what we do. Not that we'd have great social lives without the secrecy, because let's face it, we're a bunch of sad wankers. The longest relationship Tosh has ever had is with a motherboard, and were you actually dating Lisa, Ianto, or did you pull her out of the wreckage to be a fucktoy?"
"Don't," Ianto said dangerously, eyes slitting.
"I'll say what I want!" Owen yelled. "The only people who make it in Torchwood are the people who don't have anything to lose. That's how they recruit us. Dunno how we got you, Sweetcheeks," he growled at Gwen, "unless playing house with Chubby isn't much to live for."
Gwen went very still, cheeks flushing. "Fine," she said tightly. "Fine then! Go to the clubs. Puke alien shit all over yourself for all I care. Just go ahead and die, Owen, it's what you've been looking forward to all this time!" Her voice echoed sharply against the white tile and she ran off, hand pressed against her mouth.
Owen slid off the autopsy table, wobbled, slid half-glances at Ianto straight-back and silent at the railing. "God bless you, Jack," he muttered. "Wherever you went off to can't be more shit than this. Don't blame him, really!" he called out, grabbing his jacket and staggering toward the Hub door. "I'd fuck off, too, if I ever got the chance!"
No-one called back, and Owen's shoulders dropped as the cog door rolled shut.
.