Double Drabble: Overconfidence
Jan. 17th, 2018 06:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bk_forever
Title: Overconfidence
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
badly_knitted
Characters: Owen, Jack, Team.
Rating: PG
Written For: Challenge 483: Hard at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Owen’s not as clever as he thinks he is.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: This one’s a double drabble.
Owen wanted a coffee, but Ianto was in London at some meeting or other, and wouldn’t be back until late evening. He could nip across the Plas to one of Cardiff’s better coffee shops, but it was pissing down rain outside and he’d be soaked to the skin before he got halfway. Not even the thought of hot coffee was enough of an incentive to endure that.
The rest of the team were off somewhere, dealing with a Weevil sighting, but Owen had stayed behind, saying he had to finish the autopsy of the dead alien from three days ago. He’d actually finished it the day before, but they weren’t to know since he hadn’t handed in his report on it yet. Any excuse to avoid having to get wet.
Pushing back his seat, Owen wandered into the small kitchenette and stared at the coffee machine. He’d seen Teaboy work it dozens of times; how hard could it be? He’d surprise the others by having coffee waiting for them when they got back.
He surprised them, alright!
“Owen! What have you done?” Jack yelled.
Standing there splattered with a thick, lukewarm, brown tarry substance, Owen groaned. “I wish I knew!”
The End
Author:
badly_knittedCharacters: Owen, Jack, Team.
Rating: PG
Written For: Challenge 483: Hard at
tw100.Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Owen’s not as clever as he thinks he is.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: This one’s a double drabble.
Owen wanted a coffee, but Ianto was in London at some meeting or other, and wouldn’t be back until late evening. He could nip across the Plas to one of Cardiff’s better coffee shops, but it was pissing down rain outside and he’d be soaked to the skin before he got halfway. Not even the thought of hot coffee was enough of an incentive to endure that.
The rest of the team were off somewhere, dealing with a Weevil sighting, but Owen had stayed behind, saying he had to finish the autopsy of the dead alien from three days ago. He’d actually finished it the day before, but they weren’t to know since he hadn’t handed in his report on it yet. Any excuse to avoid having to get wet.
Pushing back his seat, Owen wandered into the small kitchenette and stared at the coffee machine. He’d seen Teaboy work it dozens of times; how hard could it be? He’d surprise the others by having coffee waiting for them when they got back.
He surprised them, alright!
“Owen! What have you done?” Jack yelled.
Standing there splattered with a thick, lukewarm, brown tarry substance, Owen groaned. “I wish I knew!”
The End
