Torchwood: Ficlet
Nov. 29th, 2006 05:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fangrrl_squeesTitle: Workplace Conversation
Pairing: Jack/Owen
Rating: PG - mild cursing m/m implied.
Summary: Jack and Owen share a few words over Jack's desk...
This is an immediate sequel to the as-yet-untitled Jack/Owen PWP of the other day, which is in turn a sort-of sequel to User Friendly and Torn. Yes, I think I'll be making a web page/archive for them, at this rate.
***
Owen drummed his fingers on his desk and realized that, despite staring at it for half an hour, he hadn’t read a single word of the xenobiology paper displayed on his monitor. Granted, the authors of said paper were those maniacs at Bureau 13 who often didn’t make sense at the best of times, but this was worse than usual.
Nothing new awaited his attention in the morgue. The mass spectrometer had been out of order all week – bringing a repairman to The Hub was always such a pain – and Ianto had just countered Owen’s workaround the porn-blocking filters on the office network. Owen was, in a word, frustrated by life in general - and a few things in particular.
He glanced over at Jack’s desk. Captain Harkness had his feet up, reading through a memo from HMG and occasionally laughing, as was his wont with official government papers. For some reason, the sight of an amused boss only served to increase Owen’s irritation, which was surprising as the team usually breathed easier when Jack was so visibly relaxed.
Owen stretched and glanced around the rest of the Hub. As usual, Tosh was elbow deep in three tasks simultaneously: muttering about the translation of alien languages, the likely metallurgy of a newly-found object and what on Earth were the characters of Lost thinking?
Gwen, meanwhile, studiously worked her way through a startlingly large pile of photocopies, requisitioned police records and newspaper clippings, looking for a connection between all reported incidents of cannibalism and ritual human sacrifice over the past decade.
Ianto was nowhere to be seen – probably fending off mundanes in the travel agency, upstairs. No-one could match his skills at making a luxury cruise sound so unattractive. “It comes with a two percent discount and they assure me they’re past that nasty little norovirus incident of last summer...”
Everyone was a busy little bee. Except Owen. He tried focusing on the paper again, but his gaze slid off the monitor, down to the keyboard, rolled around the floor for a bit and, inextricably, towards Jack.
If you’re going to ogle co-workers, look at Gwen, you stupid bastard. With the aid of two ballpoint pens and several rubber bands, Gwen had twisted her hair into a singularly unattractive tangle, and now stared, apparently aghast, at some new finding in the files. “You call that police reporting?” She hissed at the paper in her hand. “What the fuck were you thinking?” Owen watched her eyes race over a few more lines. “You what? Jesus! I’m calling this in, I am.” Gwen reached for the phone and jabbed angrily at the keypad. “Hello? I want to speak to DC Kramer, right now.”
Uh oh, she’s in one of her power-mad moods. Owen realized that his chances of luring her away for a friendly stress-relieving grope in an underlit corridor as approximately nil. As appealing as she could be when in a blinding fury, Owen had some shreds of survival instinct left. Which meant…
Bloody hell, Owen shook his head angrily, hoping that it looked like he was merely vexed at his computer. Bad idea, remember? Fantastic fucking moment, mind you, but come on, exert some professionalism.
Owen jumped up to go refill his mug from the carafe left on a shared table. He wanted more coffee. Really. He wasn’t sneaking another look at Jack, all smiles and oh God, he’s got a pen… Jack didn’t chew his pens so much as use them as surrogate sex-aids. What’s worse was that he gave every appearance of having no idea that he did so – an appearance that Owen began to suspect was entirely false.
That did it. Owen marched over to Jack’s desk and threw himself down in a vacant chair across from the boss. His coffee mug hit the desk with perhaps a little more force than necessary.
“Got a minute?” he asked, teeth not-quite grinding.
Jack took his time in tearing his attention away from the memo, even longer to put the pen down. Owen tried not to stare at it.
“Sure thing. What can I do for you?” Jack asked, his dutiful boss mien firmly in place.
Owen leaned his elbows on Jack’s desk and leaned forward. He didn’t want the entire Hub to overhear him – not without some effort, at least.
“About yesterday…”
Jack tried to look serious, but couldn’t prevent a hint of amusement from peeking through. “Oh boy, here it comes.” He predicted, matching Owen’s low tone.
“What?”
“You’re about to trot out either the it was a terrible aberration, let’s never speak of it again, talk, or you’re going to ask for a repeat – eventually, in that roundabout way you repressed 21st century types have.” Jack said, the mask of seriousness slipping slightly.
Owen’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like being considered predictable. “It wasn’t terrible-” he insisted.
“And how!” Jack deadpanned.
Owen tried again. “It wasn’t terrible. But it wasn’t smart either.”
“You’re right.”
“And I know that – what?” Owen did not just hear that correctly.
Jack nodded, emphasizing his point. “I said that you’re right. I usually have a rule against fooling around with co-workers-“ Owen almost choked at that, causing Jack to smile momentarily. “Yeah, I know, but it’s true. However, yesterday…” Jack’s gaze drifted into the middle distance for a second. “I just can’t resist half-addled hotties. Which probably explains some of my dating decisions,” Jack mused. “But, you’re right.” He said firmly, returning to the matter at hand. “Just because I blew it once doesn’t mean we should do it again.”
“Of course not.” If that’s how he wants to play it.
“It was unprofessional.”
Owen nodded.
“It was foolish.”
Owen nodded again, cursing at himself for feeling disappointed.
“Not to mention a probable abuse of my position as your supervisor.”
“Yeah.” Jack was right. They both knew it. “So, meet you in the file room in five minutes, then?”
Jack’s serious expression didn’t waver in the slightest. “Absolutely.”
Owen grabbed his coffee mug and practically ran downstairs.
***
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
moviegrrl? Jack says he probably isn't quite done with the parcel yet, so if plot-bunnies start chewing on your brain, feel free to make bunny stew.
Pairing: Jack/Owen
Rating: PG - mild cursing m/m implied.
Summary: Jack and Owen share a few words over Jack's desk...
This is an immediate sequel to the as-yet-untitled Jack/Owen PWP of the other day, which is in turn a sort-of sequel to User Friendly and Torn. Yes, I think I'll be making a web page/archive for them, at this rate.
***
Owen drummed his fingers on his desk and realized that, despite staring at it for half an hour, he hadn’t read a single word of the xenobiology paper displayed on his monitor. Granted, the authors of said paper were those maniacs at Bureau 13 who often didn’t make sense at the best of times, but this was worse than usual.
Nothing new awaited his attention in the morgue. The mass spectrometer had been out of order all week – bringing a repairman to The Hub was always such a pain – and Ianto had just countered Owen’s workaround the porn-blocking filters on the office network. Owen was, in a word, frustrated by life in general - and a few things in particular.
He glanced over at Jack’s desk. Captain Harkness had his feet up, reading through a memo from HMG and occasionally laughing, as was his wont with official government papers. For some reason, the sight of an amused boss only served to increase Owen’s irritation, which was surprising as the team usually breathed easier when Jack was so visibly relaxed.
Owen stretched and glanced around the rest of the Hub. As usual, Tosh was elbow deep in three tasks simultaneously: muttering about the translation of alien languages, the likely metallurgy of a newly-found object and what on Earth were the characters of Lost thinking?
Gwen, meanwhile, studiously worked her way through a startlingly large pile of photocopies, requisitioned police records and newspaper clippings, looking for a connection between all reported incidents of cannibalism and ritual human sacrifice over the past decade.
Ianto was nowhere to be seen – probably fending off mundanes in the travel agency, upstairs. No-one could match his skills at making a luxury cruise sound so unattractive. “It comes with a two percent discount and they assure me they’re past that nasty little norovirus incident of last summer...”
Everyone was a busy little bee. Except Owen. He tried focusing on the paper again, but his gaze slid off the monitor, down to the keyboard, rolled around the floor for a bit and, inextricably, towards Jack.
If you’re going to ogle co-workers, look at Gwen, you stupid bastard. With the aid of two ballpoint pens and several rubber bands, Gwen had twisted her hair into a singularly unattractive tangle, and now stared, apparently aghast, at some new finding in the files. “You call that police reporting?” She hissed at the paper in her hand. “What the fuck were you thinking?” Owen watched her eyes race over a few more lines. “You what? Jesus! I’m calling this in, I am.” Gwen reached for the phone and jabbed angrily at the keypad. “Hello? I want to speak to DC Kramer, right now.”
Uh oh, she’s in one of her power-mad moods. Owen realized that his chances of luring her away for a friendly stress-relieving grope in an underlit corridor as approximately nil. As appealing as she could be when in a blinding fury, Owen had some shreds of survival instinct left. Which meant…
Bloody hell, Owen shook his head angrily, hoping that it looked like he was merely vexed at his computer. Bad idea, remember? Fantastic fucking moment, mind you, but come on, exert some professionalism.
Owen jumped up to go refill his mug from the carafe left on a shared table. He wanted more coffee. Really. He wasn’t sneaking another look at Jack, all smiles and oh God, he’s got a pen… Jack didn’t chew his pens so much as use them as surrogate sex-aids. What’s worse was that he gave every appearance of having no idea that he did so – an appearance that Owen began to suspect was entirely false.
That did it. Owen marched over to Jack’s desk and threw himself down in a vacant chair across from the boss. His coffee mug hit the desk with perhaps a little more force than necessary.
“Got a minute?” he asked, teeth not-quite grinding.
Jack took his time in tearing his attention away from the memo, even longer to put the pen down. Owen tried not to stare at it.
“Sure thing. What can I do for you?” Jack asked, his dutiful boss mien firmly in place.
Owen leaned his elbows on Jack’s desk and leaned forward. He didn’t want the entire Hub to overhear him – not without some effort, at least.
“About yesterday…”
Jack tried to look serious, but couldn’t prevent a hint of amusement from peeking through. “Oh boy, here it comes.” He predicted, matching Owen’s low tone.
“What?”
“You’re about to trot out either the it was a terrible aberration, let’s never speak of it again, talk, or you’re going to ask for a repeat – eventually, in that roundabout way you repressed 21st century types have.” Jack said, the mask of seriousness slipping slightly.
Owen’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like being considered predictable. “It wasn’t terrible-” he insisted.
“And how!” Jack deadpanned.
Owen tried again. “It wasn’t terrible. But it wasn’t smart either.”
“You’re right.”
“And I know that – what?” Owen did not just hear that correctly.
Jack nodded, emphasizing his point. “I said that you’re right. I usually have a rule against fooling around with co-workers-“ Owen almost choked at that, causing Jack to smile momentarily. “Yeah, I know, but it’s true. However, yesterday…” Jack’s gaze drifted into the middle distance for a second. “I just can’t resist half-addled hotties. Which probably explains some of my dating decisions,” Jack mused. “But, you’re right.” He said firmly, returning to the matter at hand. “Just because I blew it once doesn’t mean we should do it again.”
“Of course not.” If that’s how he wants to play it.
“It was unprofessional.”
Owen nodded.
“It was foolish.”
Owen nodded again, cursing at himself for feeling disappointed.
“Not to mention a probable abuse of my position as your supervisor.”
“Yeah.” Jack was right. They both knew it. “So, meet you in the file room in five minutes, then?”
Jack’s serious expression didn’t waver in the slightest. “Absolutely.”
Owen grabbed his coffee mug and practically ran downstairs.
***
moviegrrl? Jack says he probably isn't quite done with the parcel yet, so if plot-bunnies start chewing on your brain, feel free to make bunny stew.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 03:28 am (UTC)Very nice.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 04:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 04:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 04:47 am (UTC)Now
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 04:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 05:13 am (UTC)Yeah, right.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 05:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 05:21 am (UTC)As a friend of mine said, when baffled by someone's concept. "This is a fantasy? Why play someone ugly, unpopular and asocial?"
It's even worse when it's a LARP...
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 05:26 am (UTC)LOL. Wolverine springs to mind - one of the best heroes ever invented.
The interesting people aren't always the prettiest.
Captain Jack, of course manages, in his own extraordinary way, to be both fascinating and gorgeous.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 05:41 am (UTC)But don't get me started on that. I have farr to much to say about playing and managing LARPs (http://www.skaro.com/larpdex.html) and gaming characters in general (http://www.skaro.com/write/char.html) (well, mine, at least)
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 01:11 pm (UTC)Interesting pages!
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 01:58 pm (UTC)God help me, my husband brought home a comic book last night that had me eyeballing the cover and going... 'oh yeah, I can make that', which is nothing new, but this is going to require either access to a vacu-form table, or a serious amount of Wonderflex and Bondo. Dammit!
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 02:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-26 08:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-27 01:47 am (UTC)I've since forgotten the character's name, but it doesn't really matter. All that matter is "Imperial Jedi" - how cool is that? :)
no subject
Date: 2007-11-27 01:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 03:47 am (UTC)I'm curious as to what you and
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 04:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 06:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 01:10 pm (UTC)dammit I knew it was a risk reading that and I did it anyway
Tell Jack to have fun. I'm off for my third cold shower of the day...
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 01:56 pm (UTC)I don't know if I'm going to write the clinch in the file room, primarily because my internal jury is very much undecided on having Gwen walk in on 'em. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 06:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 07:21 pm (UTC)Fortunately, it's going to be a while before I write the next bit - *if* I write it, as I'm utterly torn on whether or not to have Gwen walk in on them (and if she was tipped off by Jack, beforehand...) I probably won't do it but, damn, my libido's been overriding my common sense all week. Why change a trend?
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 08:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 08:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 09:01 pm (UTC)