Double Drabble: For Medicinal Purposes
Title: For Medicinal Purposes
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Owen, Jack, Ianto.
Rating: PG
Written For: Challenge 752: Drive at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: There are reasons Owen drinks so much.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
Working for Torchwood would be enough to drive anyone to drink. Even without losing Katie the way he had, Owen was sure a month working for Captain Casanova would’ve been more than enough to have him hitting the bottle, and the longer he works there, the less inclined he feels to give up the booze. It’s the only thing that keeps him marginally sane.
The things he sees… Weevils are ugly bastards that can shred a human in minutes, and they’re far from the worst creatures he’s had to deal with. Tending their victims is no picnic, and there’s not always a whole lot he can do to help. Most of them die anyway, it’s hard to survive having your throat ripped out.
Then there are the aliens who want to invade earth, enslave humans, or whatever, and who knew there were cannibals lurking in the Welsh countryside? Not that he was so surprised by that. Living out in the middle of nowhere, far from civilisation, is bound to drive people bonkers. It’s not natural.
All of that pales by comparison to walking in and catching the teaboy shagging the boss over his desk.
“And they wonder why I drink.”
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Owen, Jack, Ianto.
Rating: PG
Written For: Challenge 752: Drive at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: There are reasons Owen drinks so much.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
Working for Torchwood would be enough to drive anyone to drink. Even without losing Katie the way he had, Owen was sure a month working for Captain Casanova would’ve been more than enough to have him hitting the bottle, and the longer he works there, the less inclined he feels to give up the booze. It’s the only thing that keeps him marginally sane.
The things he sees… Weevils are ugly bastards that can shred a human in minutes, and they’re far from the worst creatures he’s had to deal with. Tending their victims is no picnic, and there’s not always a whole lot he can do to help. Most of them die anyway, it’s hard to survive having your throat ripped out.
Then there are the aliens who want to invade earth, enslave humans, or whatever, and who knew there were cannibals lurking in the Welsh countryside? Not that he was so surprised by that. Living out in the middle of nowhere, far from civilisation, is bound to drive people bonkers. It’s not natural.
All of that pales by comparison to walking in and catching the teaboy shagging the boss over his desk.
“And they wonder why I drink.”
The End