A Poor Substitute For Caffeine
Title: A Poor Substitute For Caffeine
Words: 842
Fandom: Torchwood
A/N: I’ve only seen the first couple episodes of series two, so my canon only goes up to eleven Meat, I think. 0204? Something like that. This was written for fiction_stadium, an Iron-Chef style challenge com. This was for Battle: Confusion. :D
Owen realized just how stupid an idea this had been seconds after he knocked on the door. It was the kind of plan that wouldn't have worked if he weren't already three drinks past drunk. It was the kind of plan that he would most definitely regret in the morning. It was-
Ianto opened the door, wearing a thin t-shirt and old-looking pajama pants, and Owen was pretty sure he couldn't have been more shocked if Ianto had been wearing women's underwear. The image of Ianto in high heels, with stockings and a belt and matching bra and everything suddenly (and rather forcefully) invaded his mind. Owen shook his head, immediately regretting his last six beers.
"God's sake, man, can't you put on a suit?" he grumbled, pushing past Ianto into the apartment. “Distracting, Jesus…”
"If I had only known you would be calling so late," Ianto muttered, shutting the door behind him. "I wouldn't have inconvenienced you by trying to sleep."
"Doesn't look like you were doing much sleeping," Owen said, gazing over at the rumpled pile of sheets that might have been Ianto's bed. "For being so mental about everything at work, you sure are a slob."
"I don't usually entertain..." he trailed off as Owen wandered over to the bed, flopping backwards onto it. "What exactly is it that you want?"
"Didn't have you pegged as a gamer," Owen grinned; he flipped over the Gameboy that was lying on the pillow. "Bet you like Mario. Saving the princess and whatnot."
"I'd really like to know what you think you're doing here."
Owen ignored the question, staring at the tiny screen. "Your game's messed up."
Ianto frowned, momentarily distracted as he walked over. "It's not."
"Yeah it is, all the writing's gone wonky-" Owen paused. "Oh you wanker..."
"Give me that-"
"This all is in Japanese." He waved the game around with one hand. Ianto snatched at it, but Owen rolled over, stretching on his stomach diagonally across the bed.
"Yes, it is," Ianto muttered. "Your point?"
"Ooh, you get cranky when you're interrupted trying to save the eight bit universe?" He shut the game with a snap, tossing it aside and folding his arms under his chin. "How fast can you beat Mario?"
"Pardon?"
"Don't tell me you haven't tried," Owen grinned. "I saw this guy on the internet, he can beat Super Mario Three in eleven minutes, it's mental-I mean, obviously he's mental-"
"Owen-"
"And then some other idiot beat the original in five minutes. Five. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't think we should be investigating these people, Ianto, seriously. There's obviously something supernatur-"
"Again, what are you doing here?"
He sighed. "I can't sleep, alright? Happy?"
"You can't…sleep?"
"Two weeks Jack's been gone now, and I'm down to sleeping maybe three hours a night. Sometimes less," Owen shrugged. "Think I'm becoming immortal too? Just one of the perks of being tops at Torchwood? Do immortal people need to sleep, or is it just habit, d'you think?"
"Jack sleeps."
"You'd know," Owen answered, not bothering to put any real antagonism behind the comment. "Look. Ianto. I’m not tired. I'm bored."
"You're drunk," Ianto clarified. Owen rolled his eyes before rolling onto his back.
"I'm drunk and bored, and you're not helping with either," Owen paused. "I'm horny too, don't suppose you fancy a fuck?"
Ianto, to his credit, didn't react.
"Didn't think so," Owen's head lolled to the side. "Thought I'd ask, just in case. I'm being polite, see. Didn't want you feeling obligated to go wank off in the bath when we could-"
"Stop."
"Start, actually," Owen grinned up at him.
"Owen…" Ianto muttered, in the tone he usually reserved for small children and tourists seeking directions. "What exactly do you expect to accomplish here?"
"Visiting you? No idea, honestly," Owen yawned. "Seemed like a good idea at the time?"
Ianto stared at him. "You're weird, you realize that?"
"You're weird," Owen said.
"Who exactly barged in and invaded whose home for the night?"
“For the night?” Owen sat up quickly. “So I can stay the night?”
Ianto sighed. “You can stay.”
“Amazing,” Owen smiled up at the ceiling, spreading his arms and legs across the mattress. “By the way, I don’t have the slightest where my car is, so you can give me a ride to work too, yeah?”
“Only if you promise to stop talking,” Ianto muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed and shoving Owen half-heartedly. “Couch is right over there, I’ll get you some blankets.”
“Okay,” he agreed. Ianto stared at him. Owen didn’t move.
“Right now.”
“Thanks.”
“Blankets.”
“Of course.”
“For the…” Ianto glanced at the couch, then back at his alarm clock. The bright red numbers announced it was 3:24. When he looked back at Owen, his eyes were shut, his breath already slowing.
With a sigh, Ianto laid down, carefully arranging himself as far on the other side of the bed as possible. At least it was finally quiet again.
Owen started to snore.
Words: 842
Fandom: Torchwood
A/N: I’ve only seen the first couple episodes of series two, so my canon only goes up to eleven Meat, I think. 0204? Something like that. This was written for fiction_stadium, an Iron-Chef style challenge com. This was for Battle: Confusion. :D
Owen realized just how stupid an idea this had been seconds after he knocked on the door. It was the kind of plan that wouldn't have worked if he weren't already three drinks past drunk. It was the kind of plan that he would most definitely regret in the morning. It was-
Ianto opened the door, wearing a thin t-shirt and old-looking pajama pants, and Owen was pretty sure he couldn't have been more shocked if Ianto had been wearing women's underwear. The image of Ianto in high heels, with stockings and a belt and matching bra and everything suddenly (and rather forcefully) invaded his mind. Owen shook his head, immediately regretting his last six beers.
"God's sake, man, can't you put on a suit?" he grumbled, pushing past Ianto into the apartment. “Distracting, Jesus…”
"If I had only known you would be calling so late," Ianto muttered, shutting the door behind him. "I wouldn't have inconvenienced you by trying to sleep."
"Doesn't look like you were doing much sleeping," Owen said, gazing over at the rumpled pile of sheets that might have been Ianto's bed. "For being so mental about everything at work, you sure are a slob."
"I don't usually entertain..." he trailed off as Owen wandered over to the bed, flopping backwards onto it. "What exactly is it that you want?"
"Didn't have you pegged as a gamer," Owen grinned; he flipped over the Gameboy that was lying on the pillow. "Bet you like Mario. Saving the princess and whatnot."
"I'd really like to know what you think you're doing here."
Owen ignored the question, staring at the tiny screen. "Your game's messed up."
Ianto frowned, momentarily distracted as he walked over. "It's not."
"Yeah it is, all the writing's gone wonky-" Owen paused. "Oh you wanker..."
"Give me that-"
"This all is in Japanese." He waved the game around with one hand. Ianto snatched at it, but Owen rolled over, stretching on his stomach diagonally across the bed.
"Yes, it is," Ianto muttered. "Your point?"
"Ooh, you get cranky when you're interrupted trying to save the eight bit universe?" He shut the game with a snap, tossing it aside and folding his arms under his chin. "How fast can you beat Mario?"
"Pardon?"
"Don't tell me you haven't tried," Owen grinned. "I saw this guy on the internet, he can beat Super Mario Three in eleven minutes, it's mental-I mean, obviously he's mental-"
"Owen-"
"And then some other idiot beat the original in five minutes. Five. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't think we should be investigating these people, Ianto, seriously. There's obviously something supernatur-"
"Again, what are you doing here?"
He sighed. "I can't sleep, alright? Happy?"
"You can't…sleep?"
"Two weeks Jack's been gone now, and I'm down to sleeping maybe three hours a night. Sometimes less," Owen shrugged. "Think I'm becoming immortal too? Just one of the perks of being tops at Torchwood? Do immortal people need to sleep, or is it just habit, d'you think?"
"Jack sleeps."
"You'd know," Owen answered, not bothering to put any real antagonism behind the comment. "Look. Ianto. I’m not tired. I'm bored."
"You're drunk," Ianto clarified. Owen rolled his eyes before rolling onto his back.
"I'm drunk and bored, and you're not helping with either," Owen paused. "I'm horny too, don't suppose you fancy a fuck?"
Ianto, to his credit, didn't react.
"Didn't think so," Owen's head lolled to the side. "Thought I'd ask, just in case. I'm being polite, see. Didn't want you feeling obligated to go wank off in the bath when we could-"
"Stop."
"Start, actually," Owen grinned up at him.
"Owen…" Ianto muttered, in the tone he usually reserved for small children and tourists seeking directions. "What exactly do you expect to accomplish here?"
"Visiting you? No idea, honestly," Owen yawned. "Seemed like a good idea at the time?"
Ianto stared at him. "You're weird, you realize that?"
"You're weird," Owen said.
"Who exactly barged in and invaded whose home for the night?"
“For the night?” Owen sat up quickly. “So I can stay the night?”
Ianto sighed. “You can stay.”
“Amazing,” Owen smiled up at the ceiling, spreading his arms and legs across the mattress. “By the way, I don’t have the slightest where my car is, so you can give me a ride to work too, yeah?”
“Only if you promise to stop talking,” Ianto muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed and shoving Owen half-heartedly. “Couch is right over there, I’ll get you some blankets.”
“Okay,” he agreed. Ianto stared at him. Owen didn’t move.
“Right now.”
“Thanks.”
“Blankets.”
“Of course.”
“For the…” Ianto glanced at the couch, then back at his alarm clock. The bright red numbers announced it was 3:24. When he looked back at Owen, his eyes were shut, his breath already slowing.
With a sigh, Ianto laid down, carefully arranging himself as far on the other side of the bed as possible. At least it was finally quiet again.
Owen started to snore.