Fic: Little Miss Polarity
Title: Little Miss Polarity (1/1)
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Tosh, Owen, Jack, Gwen
Pairing: Tosh/Owen (sort of - could be friend or ship)
Word Count: 562
Summary: Challenge response. clomoo gave me this picture and asked me to write a one-shot exploring an aspect of Tosh and Owen's history.
Note: Written in first-person from Toshiko's POV.
Little Miss Polarity
“Tosh? You coming?”
“I don’t know... I’ve got to--”
“Right.”
There it is: the look. Better apologise.
“Sorry.”
“Nah.” Shaking his head at me. “Jack? Oi - Jack!”
“What, Owen?”
“How d’you fancy it?” asks Owen, grinning from ear to ear. “Night on the pull. You could pick up a nice bit of... hm.” Still smiling. “What do you like to pick up, eh?”
It’s Jack’s turn to send an impatient glance, and really, who can blame him? Owen never stops making suggestions about sexuality in a conversation like this. Drives me mad.
“Why, Owen?” That’s Gwen, just back from firearms practice, pink rings around her eyes from the pressure of the goggles. “Hoping you’re in for a chance?”
We all laugh - except Owen, who frowns.
“Just a question.”
“Don’t sulk, Owen,” I advise, but his frown doesn’t lift as his eyes flick towards me.
“I thought you were busy,” he snaps.
“I am.”
“Easy, you two,” says Jack, still chuckling at Gwen’s last comment. Now I’m the one that feels like sulking. But I won’t. I won’t sink to that level, unlike some.
To Owen, Jack adds: “Why don’t you ask Ianto? He could do with letting his hair down.”
“Ianto?” repeats Owen, then drops into sarcasm mode. It’s his default setting. “Yeah - right. Great idea, Jack.”
Jack shrugs, careless and amused, and Owen knows there’s no point hanging around to whine for much longer. To reinforce the point, Jack announces: “I want my doors closed before midnight for once. Owen, go get laid. Tosh, you can have until nine-thirty to work on that transducer, but then I want you outta here. Gwen can get lost too.”
He says all this with a cheeky grin. Gwen laughs. “Getting lost!” she replies, already pulling on her jacket and heading for the exit. “Come on, Owen.”
He follows her, and I watch him go.
We were close once, Owen and I. I have photos to prove it. I have the memories to prove it. It’s as though he’s forgotten, though; even if he hasn’t, he’ll claim he hasn’t got any responsibility in the matter of it going down the drain. Which, in some ways, is true. In others, though... well. I’m not the one trying to find meaningless sex in bars, am I?
Not that his primal urges are his fault. I just blame him for his reaction to them and his utter lack of self-control. For the rest, I’m fully accountable.
‘The rest.’ As though I have any idea of what really happened to push us apart.
I feel like a magnet. A magnet that once found another magnet, whose polarity was quite the reverse. Then, one day, the other magnet - for no reason - turned around in the other direction and suddenly... suddenly the magnetic fields repelled and the two leapt apart.
“Toshiko?”
Oh.
“Yes, Jack?”
I was thinking again.
“Maybe you should go home now,” he suggests.
“Oh, but - you said I could stay until half past nine.”
“That I did,” Jack concedes; “however, I live by a certain policy: When your employees’ eyes start to glaze over, it’s time to send them to bed.”
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.” He says it kindly, and he’s right. “Go home. Get some sleep. Worry about it in the morning.”
“Don’t worry,” I reply vaguely as he walks back towards his office. “I will.”
End.
[mood|
nervous]
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Tosh, Owen, Jack, Gwen
Pairing: Tosh/Owen (sort of - could be friend or ship)
Word Count: 562
Summary: Challenge response. clomoo gave me this picture and asked me to write a one-shot exploring an aspect of Tosh and Owen's history.
Note: Written in first-person from Toshiko's POV.
Little Miss Polarity
“Tosh? You coming?”
“I don’t know... I’ve got to--”
“Right.”
There it is: the look. Better apologise.
“Sorry.”
“Nah.” Shaking his head at me. “Jack? Oi - Jack!”
“What, Owen?”
“How d’you fancy it?” asks Owen, grinning from ear to ear. “Night on the pull. You could pick up a nice bit of... hm.” Still smiling. “What do you like to pick up, eh?”
It’s Jack’s turn to send an impatient glance, and really, who can blame him? Owen never stops making suggestions about sexuality in a conversation like this. Drives me mad.
“Why, Owen?” That’s Gwen, just back from firearms practice, pink rings around her eyes from the pressure of the goggles. “Hoping you’re in for a chance?”
We all laugh - except Owen, who frowns.
“Just a question.”
“Don’t sulk, Owen,” I advise, but his frown doesn’t lift as his eyes flick towards me.
“I thought you were busy,” he snaps.
“I am.”
“Easy, you two,” says Jack, still chuckling at Gwen’s last comment. Now I’m the one that feels like sulking. But I won’t. I won’t sink to that level, unlike some.
To Owen, Jack adds: “Why don’t you ask Ianto? He could do with letting his hair down.”
“Ianto?” repeats Owen, then drops into sarcasm mode. It’s his default setting. “Yeah - right. Great idea, Jack.”
Jack shrugs, careless and amused, and Owen knows there’s no point hanging around to whine for much longer. To reinforce the point, Jack announces: “I want my doors closed before midnight for once. Owen, go get laid. Tosh, you can have until nine-thirty to work on that transducer, but then I want you outta here. Gwen can get lost too.”
He says all this with a cheeky grin. Gwen laughs. “Getting lost!” she replies, already pulling on her jacket and heading for the exit. “Come on, Owen.”
He follows her, and I watch him go.
We were close once, Owen and I. I have photos to prove it. I have the memories to prove it. It’s as though he’s forgotten, though; even if he hasn’t, he’ll claim he hasn’t got any responsibility in the matter of it going down the drain. Which, in some ways, is true. In others, though... well. I’m not the one trying to find meaningless sex in bars, am I?
Not that his primal urges are his fault. I just blame him for his reaction to them and his utter lack of self-control. For the rest, I’m fully accountable.
‘The rest.’ As though I have any idea of what really happened to push us apart.
I feel like a magnet. A magnet that once found another magnet, whose polarity was quite the reverse. Then, one day, the other magnet - for no reason - turned around in the other direction and suddenly... suddenly the magnetic fields repelled and the two leapt apart.
“Toshiko?”
Oh.
“Yes, Jack?”
I was thinking again.
“Maybe you should go home now,” he suggests.
“Oh, but - you said I could stay until half past nine.”
“That I did,” Jack concedes; “however, I live by a certain policy: When your employees’ eyes start to glaze over, it’s time to send them to bed.”
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.” He says it kindly, and he’s right. “Go home. Get some sleep. Worry about it in the morning.”
“Don’t worry,” I reply vaguely as he walks back towards his office. “I will.”
End.
[mood|
nervous]