Ficlet: To Do
Title: To Do
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Owen, Tosh.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada
Summary: Ianto is already swamped with work; he doesn’t have time to assist Owen.
Word Count: 500
Content Notes: None necessary.
Written For: Prompt 63: Probe at anythingdrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
“Hand me that probe,” Owen ordered, bent over his latest autopsy subject. He’d heard footsteps approaching, so whoever it was might as well make themselves useful.
Ianto had only come down to the autopsy bay to collect Owen’s coffee mug for washing. He had a list of tasks a mile long, all of them with varying degrees of urgency; what he didn’t need was Owen giving him more to do. Jack was in London meeting with Her Majesty, so Ianto had even more on his plate than usual. People might think Jack didn’t do much, but they were wrong. While Ianto did handle a fair few of the regular administrative duties, as boss Jack was the one to deal with other agencies, which meant UNIT, as well as various government departments. He also oversaw everything to do with Torchwood, not just the Cardiff branch but also Torchwood Two in Glasgow, and Torchwood One’s remaining holdings in London. Most of the staff had been killed during the battle, but after Lisa he’d started taking responsibility for the few survivors.
“Get your own probe, Owen, it’s right there. I’m busy.”
“Right, sure you are, Teaboy.” There was a definite sneer in Owen’s voice. “It’s so hard making coffee and tidying up.”
“Which just goes to show how little you actually know about what I do around here,” Ianto shot back. “I have maintenance to do on the cryogenics system, there’s a glitch in the power supply. The residents need to be cleaned out. I have to be available to take a call from General Montague at UNIT at precisely two this afternoon; he’s unbearable if anything upsets his schedule. There’s a two-foot tall stack of filing to do, most of it your backlog of reports that I’ve only just finished checking and cross reverencing. I had to stay up until one this morning to get that done, then get up again at five to make sure Jack had everything he was going to need for his meeting with the Queen.”
Ianto paused to draw breath before continuing. “Then I have the monthly expenses to collate, office and medical supply orders to put in, the photocopier to repair because Jack got it jammed again last night, lunch to fetch, coffee to make, the SUV to clean out thanks to you not putting the tarp down in the boot before you loaded whatever that thing is… And now you’re delaying me! Next time you order me to hand you a probe, you’ll get it alright, I’ll shove it right up your arse!”
With that, Ianto strode out of the autopsy bay with four empty coffee mugs and a stack of folders from Owen’s outbox, leaving the medic staring after him, mouth agape.
“What’s got into him?” he asked.
Tosh, drawn by Ianto’s raised voice, leant on the railing looking down into Owen’s domain. “At a guess, I’d say he’s had enough of you treating him like he’s your personal servant.”
Owen wisely said nothing.
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Owen, Tosh.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada
Summary: Ianto is already swamped with work; he doesn’t have time to assist Owen.
Word Count: 500
Content Notes: None necessary.
Written For: Prompt 63: Probe at anythingdrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
“Hand me that probe,” Owen ordered, bent over his latest autopsy subject. He’d heard footsteps approaching, so whoever it was might as well make themselves useful.
Ianto had only come down to the autopsy bay to collect Owen’s coffee mug for washing. He had a list of tasks a mile long, all of them with varying degrees of urgency; what he didn’t need was Owen giving him more to do. Jack was in London meeting with Her Majesty, so Ianto had even more on his plate than usual. People might think Jack didn’t do much, but they were wrong. While Ianto did handle a fair few of the regular administrative duties, as boss Jack was the one to deal with other agencies, which meant UNIT, as well as various government departments. He also oversaw everything to do with Torchwood, not just the Cardiff branch but also Torchwood Two in Glasgow, and Torchwood One’s remaining holdings in London. Most of the staff had been killed during the battle, but after Lisa he’d started taking responsibility for the few survivors.
“Get your own probe, Owen, it’s right there. I’m busy.”
“Right, sure you are, Teaboy.” There was a definite sneer in Owen’s voice. “It’s so hard making coffee and tidying up.”
“Which just goes to show how little you actually know about what I do around here,” Ianto shot back. “I have maintenance to do on the cryogenics system, there’s a glitch in the power supply. The residents need to be cleaned out. I have to be available to take a call from General Montague at UNIT at precisely two this afternoon; he’s unbearable if anything upsets his schedule. There’s a two-foot tall stack of filing to do, most of it your backlog of reports that I’ve only just finished checking and cross reverencing. I had to stay up until one this morning to get that done, then get up again at five to make sure Jack had everything he was going to need for his meeting with the Queen.”
Ianto paused to draw breath before continuing. “Then I have the monthly expenses to collate, office and medical supply orders to put in, the photocopier to repair because Jack got it jammed again last night, lunch to fetch, coffee to make, the SUV to clean out thanks to you not putting the tarp down in the boot before you loaded whatever that thing is… And now you’re delaying me! Next time you order me to hand you a probe, you’ll get it alright, I’ll shove it right up your arse!”
With that, Ianto strode out of the autopsy bay with four empty coffee mugs and a stack of folders from Owen’s outbox, leaving the medic staring after him, mouth agape.
“What’s got into him?” he asked.
Tosh, drawn by Ianto’s raised voice, leant on the railing looking down into Owen’s domain. “At a guess, I’d say he’s had enough of you treating him like he’s your personal servant.”
Owen wisely said nothing.
The End