A drabble, my first attempt at a fan fic...TW: Of all the things...
The cog door rolled back, revealing the long RAF coat and the man whom was wearing it.
“Ah, it’s good to be back. Nothing more fun than chasing a Weevil around Cardiff and ending up rolling around in the mud.”
“Jack you could at least give us a hand,” Gwen Cooper’s voice rang down the stairs to the Captain, “This one’s bloody heavy.”
The Captain turned and sprang back up the stairs to help Gwen and Toshiko to carry down the heavy bundle that was a very sedated, very weighty Weevil. As they deposited it in the vaults in the cell next to Janet, Gwen moved back upstairs to find Owen and Ianto, she knew that they had returned before they had. Jack had called ahead to warn Owen that they had a new guest for him.
“Owen! Owen the Weevil’s downstairs! Ianto! Ianto, Jack wants some quote coffee magic unquote. Reckon you could get some?” She called out as she made her way to the autopsy room where she guessed that Owen would be hiding out. Hearing no answer from either men Gwen called out again. “Owen? Ianto?”
Finally a voice rang out, “Just a minute Gwen I’ll be down to check it in a minute. Dammit stay still Ianto and let me finish up.”
“Well, if you’d be a bit more careful with that needle instead of just jabbing it at me.” The welsh voice rang out in an angered yet somewhat hushed tone and Gwen quickly moved into the autopsy room to see what the fuss was between the two men to see Ianto with his shirt open, blooded patches evident on the pale pink fabric, jacket, waistcoat and tie slung haphazardly over the back of a nearby chair and Owen bent down, seemingly doing something down by Ianto’s waist. Gwen moved around the room and looked down upon the pair. Owen was stitching up what looked like a very nasty gash along Ianto’s side.
“So what happened?” she asked casually. Well, that’ what it was now, Weevil hunting, getting injured, all that stuff…it was casual, it happened everyday, often more than once.
“Ianto here found himself pinned to a wall by an overly vicious dog.” Owen spoke with a smirk as he placed the dressing over the stitched-up wound.
“A dog? Seriously? We go Weevil hunting and the worst injury is caused by a dog?” Gwen stifled a half-laugh. It seemed an almost impossible fact that everyday they dealt with dangerous circumstances. Often had near-death experiences, but today, today the worst injury was caused by a dog.
At that point Jack and Tosh made their way back up from the vaults to the main area of the Hub. Jack’s clear American accent could be heard calling out, “Hey Ianto! I thought I sent up a message for some coffee magic?”
“Yep just getting on it sir,” came the welsh-mans reply as he jumped down from the metal table and made his way up the stairs and through the hub to the coffee machine, pulling his tattered shirt around his body as he did so.
“Ianto, hey Ianto!” receiving no reply, the exuberant Captain moved to where the others were stood in the autopsy bay. He noticed the blood and the equipment that Owen was now throwing away and dumping in the sink to be washed and sterilised. “What happened?”
“Dog!” Was the reply from both Gwen and Owen, the laughter behind somewhat stifled as though they fought not to find the situation funny.
“Ah, it’s good to be back. Nothing more fun than chasing a Weevil around Cardiff and ending up rolling around in the mud.”
“Jack you could at least give us a hand,” Gwen Cooper’s voice rang down the stairs to the Captain, “This one’s bloody heavy.”
The Captain turned and sprang back up the stairs to help Gwen and Toshiko to carry down the heavy bundle that was a very sedated, very weighty Weevil. As they deposited it in the vaults in the cell next to Janet, Gwen moved back upstairs to find Owen and Ianto, she knew that they had returned before they had. Jack had called ahead to warn Owen that they had a new guest for him.
“Owen! Owen the Weevil’s downstairs! Ianto! Ianto, Jack wants some quote coffee magic unquote. Reckon you could get some?” She called out as she made her way to the autopsy room where she guessed that Owen would be hiding out. Hearing no answer from either men Gwen called out again. “Owen? Ianto?”
Finally a voice rang out, “Just a minute Gwen I’ll be down to check it in a minute. Dammit stay still Ianto and let me finish up.”
“Well, if you’d be a bit more careful with that needle instead of just jabbing it at me.” The welsh voice rang out in an angered yet somewhat hushed tone and Gwen quickly moved into the autopsy room to see what the fuss was between the two men to see Ianto with his shirt open, blooded patches evident on the pale pink fabric, jacket, waistcoat and tie slung haphazardly over the back of a nearby chair and Owen bent down, seemingly doing something down by Ianto’s waist. Gwen moved around the room and looked down upon the pair. Owen was stitching up what looked like a very nasty gash along Ianto’s side.
“So what happened?” she asked casually. Well, that’ what it was now, Weevil hunting, getting injured, all that stuff…it was casual, it happened everyday, often more than once.
“Ianto here found himself pinned to a wall by an overly vicious dog.” Owen spoke with a smirk as he placed the dressing over the stitched-up wound.
“A dog? Seriously? We go Weevil hunting and the worst injury is caused by a dog?” Gwen stifled a half-laugh. It seemed an almost impossible fact that everyday they dealt with dangerous circumstances. Often had near-death experiences, but today, today the worst injury was caused by a dog.
At that point Jack and Tosh made their way back up from the vaults to the main area of the Hub. Jack’s clear American accent could be heard calling out, “Hey Ianto! I thought I sent up a message for some coffee magic?”
“Yep just getting on it sir,” came the welsh-mans reply as he jumped down from the metal table and made his way up the stairs and through the hub to the coffee machine, pulling his tattered shirt around his body as he did so.
“Ianto, hey Ianto!” receiving no reply, the exuberant Captain moved to where the others were stood in the autopsy bay. He noticed the blood and the equipment that Owen was now throwing away and dumping in the sink to be washed and sterilised. “What happened?”
“Dog!” Was the reply from both Gwen and Owen, the laughter behind somewhat stifled as though they fought not to find the situation funny.