[Fic] Overtime
Title: Overtime
Rating: PG
Character: Jack, Owen, Tosh
Summary: There are a lot of problems with Owen being undead, but Jack never thought airport security would be one of them.
A/N: Written for the second week of writerinadrawer. The prompt was something involving a favor and foreign city. (I only made one tiny change from the original post, and that was because I had good input from two people who know NYC way better than me. Thanks, guys!)
Disclaimer: Do not own Torchwood or respective characters. :)
***
For Jack, some things make working for Torchwood a pleasure. But phone calls at two in the morning aren’t one of them.
Jack seizes his phone and squints at the caller ID. “Tosh?” he says, blinking sleep from his eyes. “Please tell me this is about what kind of bagels you’re bringing back.”
“We need a favor.” Tosh’s voice has a crisp, awake quality that Jack lacks. Of course, it’s only nine at night in New York City. “We're at JFK airport. Um, how much power do you have over Homeland Security?”
Jack sits up, swinging his legs over the side of his bed. “Who did Owen piss off now?”
Tosh’s sigh crackles over the phone line. “For once, nobody. But we’re having some… issues.”
There is a rattling noise, as if her mobile changes hands. Owen’s irritated voice replaces Tosh’s hesitant one. “They won’t let me through security because apparently I’m holding metal,” he says furiously. “And they won’t stop waving those wand things over me.”
“Really.” Smiling, Jack stretches the word out to twice its normal length. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. Smuggling alien artifacts through foreign airports-”
Owen answers in an incensed whisper. “It’s the bullet! In case you’ve forgotten, someone recently shot me. Nobody removed the bullet! And I can’t let them search me too closely, because they’re going to notice that I’m not right.”
Jack's reply dies on his lips. There are a lot of problems with Owen being undead, but he never thought airport security would be one of them. There’s that familiar flash of guilt, that burning in his gut when he thinks about Owen’s new life. He inhales deeply and reminds himself he can’t fix Owen. But he can fix this. “I’ll make some calls,” he says.
A pause. Then, “Thanks.” There is grudging gratitude in Owen’s voice. “What are you going to tell them?”
Jack thinks about it. “That we’re outside the government, beyond the police, and that you’ve got piercings in some very private places.” He hangs up, not waiting for a response. This is what he enjoys about Torchwood-looking after his team.
Teasing Owen is just a perk.