Double Drabble: Fright
Title: Fright
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Owen, Ianto, Jack.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 590: Holy at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Owen sees something that gives him a fright.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“Holy crap!” Owen yelped, jumping nearly a foot in the air and spilling his coffee. He looked again, but the eyes he thought he’d seen were no longer there. Probably they’d just been an optical illusion, or an exhaustion induced hallucination.
“Problems, Owen?” Ianto asked, coming to lean on the railing above the autopsy bay, looking down at the flustered medic.
“No, it’s fine, just… hot coffee. Slopped some on my hand.”
“You want to be more careful, you could give yourself a nasty burn. Stick your hand under the cold tap.”
“Yeah, thanks, I’d never ‘ave known what to do if you ‘adn’t said,” Owen retorted sarcastically. “Who’s the doctor around ‘ere, me or you?”
“No need to get snippy; just thought I’d remind you. Suppose I’d better mop that spill up before someone slips in it.” Ianto headed off to get the mop and Owen glanced around nervously before sitting down at his desk and drying his hand off. The coffee wasn’t as hot as he’d made out.
“That was a bit mean you know,” Ianto muttered as Jack appeared beside him. “Owen could have been hurt.”
“It was funny though.”
“Perhaps I should confiscate that camouflage field.”
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Owen, Ianto, Jack.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 590: Holy at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Owen sees something that gives him a fright.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“Holy crap!” Owen yelped, jumping nearly a foot in the air and spilling his coffee. He looked again, but the eyes he thought he’d seen were no longer there. Probably they’d just been an optical illusion, or an exhaustion induced hallucination.
“Problems, Owen?” Ianto asked, coming to lean on the railing above the autopsy bay, looking down at the flustered medic.
“No, it’s fine, just… hot coffee. Slopped some on my hand.”
“You want to be more careful, you could give yourself a nasty burn. Stick your hand under the cold tap.”
“Yeah, thanks, I’d never ‘ave known what to do if you ‘adn’t said,” Owen retorted sarcastically. “Who’s the doctor around ‘ere, me or you?”
“No need to get snippy; just thought I’d remind you. Suppose I’d better mop that spill up before someone slips in it.” Ianto headed off to get the mop and Owen glanced around nervously before sitting down at his desk and drying his hand off. The coffee wasn’t as hot as he’d made out.
“That was a bit mean you know,” Ianto muttered as Jack appeared beside him. “Owen could have been hurt.”
“It was funny though.”
“Perhaps I should confiscate that camouflage field.”
The End