Double Drabble: The Leak
Title: The Leak
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto.
Rating: PG
Written For: Challenge 638: Leak at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: There’s a small leak in the Hub, but it should be easy enough to fix…
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“Shit!” Ianto wasn’t usually one for swearing at work, or at home come to that; it set a bad example, and anyway, he preferred not to stoop to Owen’s level. Sometimes, however, swearing was the only possible response.
There’d been a bit of a leak in one of the Hub’s water pipes for a while now; not a bad one, but still something that required fixing. Today, Ianto had decided that as the Rift was quiet he’d get on with some routine maintenance, starting with the leak. He’d changed into work clothes, fetched his toolbox, and gone to shut off the water, but for some reason whoever had put the pipes in had got everything back to front. Instead of turning the water off, he’d turned it on full; the weakened pipe joint had started squirting water like a bizarre fountain, and then the stopcock had jammed so he couldn’t turn it off.
He needed another pair of hands, but no one was about and he’d left his Bluetooth in his suit jacket.
“Stupid bloody pipes!” Wrestling with a slippery wrench in the indoor downpour, he finally got the water turned off. “Something tells me this is not my day.”
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto.
Rating: PG
Written For: Challenge 638: Leak at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: There’s a small leak in the Hub, but it should be easy enough to fix…
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“Shit!” Ianto wasn’t usually one for swearing at work, or at home come to that; it set a bad example, and anyway, he preferred not to stoop to Owen’s level. Sometimes, however, swearing was the only possible response.
There’d been a bit of a leak in one of the Hub’s water pipes for a while now; not a bad one, but still something that required fixing. Today, Ianto had decided that as the Rift was quiet he’d get on with some routine maintenance, starting with the leak. He’d changed into work clothes, fetched his toolbox, and gone to shut off the water, but for some reason whoever had put the pipes in had got everything back to front. Instead of turning the water off, he’d turned it on full; the weakened pipe joint had started squirting water like a bizarre fountain, and then the stopcock had jammed so he couldn’t turn it off.
He needed another pair of hands, but no one was about and he’d left his Bluetooth in his suit jacket.
“Stupid bloody pipes!” Wrestling with a slippery wrench in the indoor downpour, he finally got the water turned off. “Something tells me this is not my day.”
The End