Shippin'
Ohh I'll come up with a title tomorrow, I'm tired. Have a fanfic.
Edit: Oh hey I thought of one! Now this can be in communities.
Title: All We've Got Left
Author: mirrankei
Characters: Owen and Ianto
Warnings: Language I guess?
Spoilers: Through season 1 of TW and end of season 3 of DW.
The air was positively frigid, and it smacked Owen in the face the moment he got the door cracked open. He scowled, squinting against the wind, and wrestled it all the way open with his shoulder. His arms were otherwise occupied with dirty linens, dishes, and the meager medical equipment.
Cursing to himself, he stumbled out into the snow and dumped everything onto the ground next to the trough. The top of the water had a thin layer of ice over the top again, weak enough for Owen to break through by bashing it in with his elbow.
"Doesn't your arm get wet doing that?"
Owen suppressed a flinch, determined not to look as startled as he'd felt at the sudden sound of Ianto's voice. We're safe here, he reminded himself, deliberately skipping the addendum of 'for now.' The Toclafane aren't interested in hospitals.
"Practice," he muttered back without looking. "What're you doing out here?"
Ianto sighed, staring out at the mountains from his perch on the low wall that served as meagre protection from the elements. "Just needed some air."
"I could do with a bit less air, myself," Owen said, stumbling over his pile of washables to get to the pump - frozen, of course. "I swear I'll never complain about rain again."
Ianto snorted, obviously not believing it. Owen was just relieved Ianto wasn't in one of his moods again where he'd point out that they would probably never get home to the rain again anyway. Owen didn't need that sort of shit right then.
"I don't mind the cold so much," Ianto continued. "I just needed to get away from everything in there for a while."
This was fully understandable; everybody was forced into close quarters in the converted tourist lodge. Not just the four of them, but also the dozens of patients - the guides that had worked on the mountain, other 'tourists' like themselves, and a smattering of Himalayan citizens - all forced to seek shelter wherever they could. Owen wasn't the only one with medical experience, but every person inside was working themself ragged.
"Gwen's going to have your balls for slacking off," Owen said.
Ianto laughed again, a little more honestly, though still distant. "Doesn't she already?"
This made Owen pause. It wasn't that he didn't know, but it wasn't like Ianto to bring that sort of thing up. It never had been before, anyway. He gave the pump one last violent shove and knelt down to dump everything into the biting cold water. "So do you have some sort of authority kink, then? Seems like you're always fucking the boss."
"I suppose I must," Ianto said, still sounding rather detached and amused. He graced Owen with a sideways glance. "Which means you don't have a chance with me."
Owen reciprocated a snort of laughter and didn't push it. He focused instead on the cleaning of his instruments. In an ideal world, or even just the imperfect world from a month ago, everything from the surgery tools to the bedpans would be disinfected and sterile. Now, of course, there wasn't even hot water, and they couldn't waste their tiny bit of fuel and firewood on non-essentials. Owen had already had a number of patients die of infected wounds, alongside all those suffering from plain old hypothermia and malnutrition.
"How is everything going, Owen?"
Ianto's voice brought Owen back to the present. He took his time answering, taking deep breaths despite the painful cold forcing its way into his lungs. He deliberately clenched and unclenched his numb fists a couple of times in the water.
"I'm just dandy, Ianto."
"Owen…"
"All things considered, aside from the fact that I am stranded in the fucking Himalays with you lot, keeping people from the brink of death while everyone I've ever known is dead or a slave to a madman, and the fact that I'm living in constant fear of being killed by metal tennis balls with knives built in, yeah, I'm fine."
Owen wasn't looking, but he could sense Ianto's eyes rolling. "All right, how's Tosh then?"
This made Owen pause in his washing again. "You'd be better off asking her," he said. "But I suppose you mean to ask how it's going between us."
"I was trying to be tactful."
"Well it's not any of your business, but I'd say the answer is about the same. Fine, under the circumstances. Doing the best we can."
Ianto was quiet again, thankfully, but it didn't last. "I'm just... worried."
"The fucking world is ending, and you're 'worried.' About the relationship status of your coworkers, no less. Frankly Ianto, I have to wonder about your choice of people's shit to stick your nose into."
"I don't want to see her hurt, Owen."
"You think I do? Goddammit Ianto, just what kind of monster do you think I am?"
"I didn't mean that," Ianto protested. "But Tosh has had this crush for as long as I've known her, and I don't want this to mean you're together because she's almost literally the last option on Earth."
Owen didn't respond. He grit his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, trying to resist the urge to whirl about and smack the freezing, sopping wet sheet he was clutching into Ianto's stupid face.
"Do you think you would have gotten together if this had never happened?" Ianto went on.
"How the bloody hell should I know?" Owen snapped. He managed to let go of the sheet before turning on him. "How the fuck am I to know what might have happened? It didn't happen. The 'Master' happened. This happened. We got stuck here, we got lonely, and horny, and yeah, desperate, but I do care about Tosh, all right, whatever you may think of me."
"You care about her, but do you care more than you care about me or Gwen? Do you actually love her, or are you just doing this because you think you might be killed any day now and would rather go out fucking someone?"
"Look who's fucking talking," Owen snarled. "At least I'm actually thinking about her when we fuck. Does Gwen let you call her 'Jack', or do you have to close your eyes and visualize it without telling her? Or 'Lisa' maybe? Or is it all an exchange, and she screams Rhys' name when she comes?"
Ianto's mouth snapped shut. He glared back, and for a moment he had the same look he'd had those few weeks ago when he'd fired a shot into Owen's shoulder. Then he looked away.
"It's not like that."
"Isn't it?" Owen scoffed. "I think I got at least part of that right; I've done Gwen before, remember, I know the baggage she takes with her. And you're hardly empty handed."
Ianto still kept his eyes averted, breathing heavily and watching the clouds of steam fade away into the frigid air.
"My point is, who the hell knows. The world's ending, and we're all we've got left. You've got no right to judge us."
"I suppose not," Ianto said. His voice was distant again.
"Don't give me this crap, Ianto." Owen sighed and put his hand to his head, instantly regretting it as icy, dirty laundry water trickled down onto his nose. He turned away again, kneeling down by the trough so they wouldn't have to look at each other.
For a while, the only sounds were Owen's splashing as he did his best to focus on the task in front of him and the wind blowing through the scarce trees.
"We're happy," Owen said finally.
Ianto just looked at him.
"As happy as we could be, given… what this is."
"Do you love her?" Ianto asked. He just wouldn't drop it.
"Sure," Owen said vaguely. Honestly. "You?"
Ianto stayed inscrutable. "Sure," he echoed.
"It's the end of the world, Ianto, we may as well take what joy we can get," Owen said. "Do you think the girls would be up for a foursome?"
Ianto didn't seem to think this was worth dignifying with an answer.
Owen smirked at at the victory; conversation successfully derailed. He finished washing the last of his things, distorting his smirking reflection by plunging his hands back into the freezing water to splash it over his face. Ianto didn't move from his seat on the wall, just waiting in silence for Owen to finish, still lost in thought.
Owen wiped his dripping face with the towel, and tossed it vaguely at Ianto on his way to the door.
"Well," Ianto said, making Owen pause two steps into the only slightly warmer building. "We could always ask."
Owen let that sink in, lingering in the doorway. He smirked and let the door fall shut behind him.
Edit: Oh hey I thought of one! Now this can be in communities.
Title: All We've Got Left
Author: mirrankei
Characters: Owen and Ianto
Warnings: Language I guess?
Spoilers: Through season 1 of TW and end of season 3 of DW.
The air was positively frigid, and it smacked Owen in the face the moment he got the door cracked open. He scowled, squinting against the wind, and wrestled it all the way open with his shoulder. His arms were otherwise occupied with dirty linens, dishes, and the meager medical equipment.
Cursing to himself, he stumbled out into the snow and dumped everything onto the ground next to the trough. The top of the water had a thin layer of ice over the top again, weak enough for Owen to break through by bashing it in with his elbow.
"Doesn't your arm get wet doing that?"
Owen suppressed a flinch, determined not to look as startled as he'd felt at the sudden sound of Ianto's voice. We're safe here, he reminded himself, deliberately skipping the addendum of 'for now.' The Toclafane aren't interested in hospitals.
"Practice," he muttered back without looking. "What're you doing out here?"
Ianto sighed, staring out at the mountains from his perch on the low wall that served as meagre protection from the elements. "Just needed some air."
"I could do with a bit less air, myself," Owen said, stumbling over his pile of washables to get to the pump - frozen, of course. "I swear I'll never complain about rain again."
Ianto snorted, obviously not believing it. Owen was just relieved Ianto wasn't in one of his moods again where he'd point out that they would probably never get home to the rain again anyway. Owen didn't need that sort of shit right then.
"I don't mind the cold so much," Ianto continued. "I just needed to get away from everything in there for a while."
This was fully understandable; everybody was forced into close quarters in the converted tourist lodge. Not just the four of them, but also the dozens of patients - the guides that had worked on the mountain, other 'tourists' like themselves, and a smattering of Himalayan citizens - all forced to seek shelter wherever they could. Owen wasn't the only one with medical experience, but every person inside was working themself ragged.
"Gwen's going to have your balls for slacking off," Owen said.
Ianto laughed again, a little more honestly, though still distant. "Doesn't she already?"
This made Owen pause. It wasn't that he didn't know, but it wasn't like Ianto to bring that sort of thing up. It never had been before, anyway. He gave the pump one last violent shove and knelt down to dump everything into the biting cold water. "So do you have some sort of authority kink, then? Seems like you're always fucking the boss."
"I suppose I must," Ianto said, still sounding rather detached and amused. He graced Owen with a sideways glance. "Which means you don't have a chance with me."
Owen reciprocated a snort of laughter and didn't push it. He focused instead on the cleaning of his instruments. In an ideal world, or even just the imperfect world from a month ago, everything from the surgery tools to the bedpans would be disinfected and sterile. Now, of course, there wasn't even hot water, and they couldn't waste their tiny bit of fuel and firewood on non-essentials. Owen had already had a number of patients die of infected wounds, alongside all those suffering from plain old hypothermia and malnutrition.
"How is everything going, Owen?"
Ianto's voice brought Owen back to the present. He took his time answering, taking deep breaths despite the painful cold forcing its way into his lungs. He deliberately clenched and unclenched his numb fists a couple of times in the water.
"I'm just dandy, Ianto."
"Owen…"
"All things considered, aside from the fact that I am stranded in the fucking Himalays with you lot, keeping people from the brink of death while everyone I've ever known is dead or a slave to a madman, and the fact that I'm living in constant fear of being killed by metal tennis balls with knives built in, yeah, I'm fine."
Owen wasn't looking, but he could sense Ianto's eyes rolling. "All right, how's Tosh then?"
This made Owen pause in his washing again. "You'd be better off asking her," he said. "But I suppose you mean to ask how it's going between us."
"I was trying to be tactful."
"Well it's not any of your business, but I'd say the answer is about the same. Fine, under the circumstances. Doing the best we can."
Ianto was quiet again, thankfully, but it didn't last. "I'm just... worried."
"The fucking world is ending, and you're 'worried.' About the relationship status of your coworkers, no less. Frankly Ianto, I have to wonder about your choice of people's shit to stick your nose into."
"I don't want to see her hurt, Owen."
"You think I do? Goddammit Ianto, just what kind of monster do you think I am?"
"I didn't mean that," Ianto protested. "But Tosh has had this crush for as long as I've known her, and I don't want this to mean you're together because she's almost literally the last option on Earth."
Owen didn't respond. He grit his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, trying to resist the urge to whirl about and smack the freezing, sopping wet sheet he was clutching into Ianto's stupid face.
"Do you think you would have gotten together if this had never happened?" Ianto went on.
"How the bloody hell should I know?" Owen snapped. He managed to let go of the sheet before turning on him. "How the fuck am I to know what might have happened? It didn't happen. The 'Master' happened. This happened. We got stuck here, we got lonely, and horny, and yeah, desperate, but I do care about Tosh, all right, whatever you may think of me."
"You care about her, but do you care more than you care about me or Gwen? Do you actually love her, or are you just doing this because you think you might be killed any day now and would rather go out fucking someone?"
"Look who's fucking talking," Owen snarled. "At least I'm actually thinking about her when we fuck. Does Gwen let you call her 'Jack', or do you have to close your eyes and visualize it without telling her? Or 'Lisa' maybe? Or is it all an exchange, and she screams Rhys' name when she comes?"
Ianto's mouth snapped shut. He glared back, and for a moment he had the same look he'd had those few weeks ago when he'd fired a shot into Owen's shoulder. Then he looked away.
"It's not like that."
"Isn't it?" Owen scoffed. "I think I got at least part of that right; I've done Gwen before, remember, I know the baggage she takes with her. And you're hardly empty handed."
Ianto still kept his eyes averted, breathing heavily and watching the clouds of steam fade away into the frigid air.
"My point is, who the hell knows. The world's ending, and we're all we've got left. You've got no right to judge us."
"I suppose not," Ianto said. His voice was distant again.
"Don't give me this crap, Ianto." Owen sighed and put his hand to his head, instantly regretting it as icy, dirty laundry water trickled down onto his nose. He turned away again, kneeling down by the trough so they wouldn't have to look at each other.
For a while, the only sounds were Owen's splashing as he did his best to focus on the task in front of him and the wind blowing through the scarce trees.
"We're happy," Owen said finally.
Ianto just looked at him.
"As happy as we could be, given… what this is."
"Do you love her?" Ianto asked. He just wouldn't drop it.
"Sure," Owen said vaguely. Honestly. "You?"
Ianto stayed inscrutable. "Sure," he echoed.
"It's the end of the world, Ianto, we may as well take what joy we can get," Owen said. "Do you think the girls would be up for a foursome?"
Ianto didn't seem to think this was worth dignifying with an answer.
Owen smirked at at the victory; conversation successfully derailed. He finished washing the last of his things, distorting his smirking reflection by plunging his hands back into the freezing water to splash it over his face. Ianto didn't move from his seat on the wall, just waiting in silence for Owen to finish, still lost in thought.
Owen wiped his dripping face with the towel, and tossed it vaguely at Ianto on his way to the door.
"Well," Ianto said, making Owen pause two steps into the only slightly warmer building. "We could always ask."
Owen let that sink in, lingering in the doorway. He smirked and let the door fall shut behind him.