(no subject)

[catslash]

So I was going to, like, sleep and stuff. Kind of overexerted myself today. But then I watched a bunch of Doctor Who, and then I remembered that joanne_c was running a Doctor Who/Torchwood porn battle, and then I accidentally wrote this. It is not porn, but I had fun.



The problem. The actual problem. Was not Owen. No. Owen was often the problem. He knew that. Sometimes he'd even admit it. There were lots of problems that could be named Owen. But this. This was not one of them.

This problem was named - something that Owen couldn't manage even when he was sober, all those many, many . . . five minutes ago. It was in a glittering bottle, courtesy of some alien, they all sort of blended together sometimes, no difference with half of them except in how they tried to kill you, and the glitter of the bottle had transferred to Jack's eyes when he'd seen it. Jack knew the name, that bastard, that absolute bastard (Absolut bastard, hahaha), and Owen would bet, he would just bet, that Jack could still say it, too. They'd taken their shots at the same time, and in Owen's expert opinion on all things alcohol, bloody impossible alien names or no, Jack didn't have any special defense against a drink like he did against death. His smile was a bit blurred around the edges, and that wasn't just Owen's vision going hazy. Not that Owen was going to ask. Oh no. Not and. Not and.

"Give you th' bloody satisfaction." Then he laughed, because Jack was looking like he had no idea what Owen was talking about, and that was rare enough, wasn't it, that it was always good for a laugh. Even if it wasn't quite fair. Especially if it wasn't quite fair.

"What kind of satisfaction?" That was a different smile, not usually aimed at Owen. In a case where of course "usually" meant "ever." That was a Ianto smile, that was, occasionally a Gwen smile, but never an Owen smile. And Owen was trying this new thing, this thing where he wasn't a complete arsehole one hundred percent of all the time, and there was no rule said he could only do it sober. So he helped, gesturing at the bottle, or at where the bottle should be, except it was over there now, but too late, gesture made.

"Fucking." Bottle. Fucking bottle, not where it was supposed to be. Owen started to look for it, but got stopped by the smile, also and still not where it was supposed to be.

"Aren't you the sweet talker." The smile was much closer now. Owen blinked at it as he gave up the search for the bottle in favor of calculating the smile's trajectory. Oh. Oh. He. Should maybe have finished that sentence out loud. That was a Ianto smile, not an Owen smile, how stupid of it to be so very close.

"This," he told it quite clearly, "is too stupid to actually happen."

The smile laughed, and then stopped being a smile and was just lips on his. And that turned out not to be stupid at all.

Comments

[echo-fangirl.livejournal.com]

Bwha! You write intoxicated so well!

"This," he told it quite clearly, "is too stupid to actually happen."

That was just gold!

[catslash.livejournal.com]

Thanks! I can't take credit for that line, though; that was the prompt I used for the fic.

Funny coincidence - both this bit and "Passing the Time" got written when I was tired and more than ready for BED. I guess that's when Owen figures I'm vulnerable and makes his move. XD

[echo-fangirl.livejournal.com]

Well if fic like these two are the result, I may need to come up with some way to keep you perpetually exhausted! :D