Double Drabble: Useful Item
Title: Useful Item
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Owen, Gwen, Jack.
Rating: PG
Written For: Challenge 835: Crook at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto is good at improvising with whatever tools are available.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“Oi, Teaboy, where’s your flock?” Owen sniggered as Ianto strode through the Hub, carrying what looked a lot like a shepherd’s crook.
Ianto rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for your juvenile sense of humour, Owen.”
“Why? Are you hoping to snare yourself a pretty young lamb? Everyone knows how much you Welsh love your sheep!”
“Hey! Stereotyping!” Gwen protested, somehow missing the point of the jibe. Not that it mattered, because in a deft move, Ianto reversed his grip on the crook and hooked it around Owen’s neck, dragging him and his chair across the concrete.
“What was that, Owen?”
“Erk!”
Ianto unhooked the crook and Owen rubbed his neck. “Jeez, can’t you take a joke?”
There was no reply, Ianto was already through the cog door. Ignoring the lift, he headed up the narrow staircase leading to the tourist office’s backroom and hurried out the door to where Jack was waiting anxiously on the boardwalk, practically wringing his hands.
“Of all the stupid thigs to do!” Ianto exclaimed, wielding his crook.
“I didn’t mean to!” Jack protested.
Sighing, Ianto fished in the water, hooking out a sodden bundle. “Next time pass me your coat, don’t throw it.”
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Owen, Gwen, Jack.
Rating: PG
Written For: Challenge 835: Crook at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto is good at improvising with whatever tools are available.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“Oi, Teaboy, where’s your flock?” Owen sniggered as Ianto strode through the Hub, carrying what looked a lot like a shepherd’s crook.
Ianto rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for your juvenile sense of humour, Owen.”
“Why? Are you hoping to snare yourself a pretty young lamb? Everyone knows how much you Welsh love your sheep!”
“Hey! Stereotyping!” Gwen protested, somehow missing the point of the jibe. Not that it mattered, because in a deft move, Ianto reversed his grip on the crook and hooked it around Owen’s neck, dragging him and his chair across the concrete.
“What was that, Owen?”
“Erk!”
Ianto unhooked the crook and Owen rubbed his neck. “Jeez, can’t you take a joke?”
There was no reply, Ianto was already through the cog door. Ignoring the lift, he headed up the narrow staircase leading to the tourist office’s backroom and hurried out the door to where Jack was waiting anxiously on the boardwalk, practically wringing his hands.
“Of all the stupid thigs to do!” Ianto exclaimed, wielding his crook.
“I didn’t mean to!” Jack protested.
Sighing, Ianto fished in the water, hooking out a sodden bundle. “Next time pass me your coat, don’t throw it.”
The End