Double Drabble: Unfit
Oct. 10th, 2020 05:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bk_forever
Title: Unfit
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Owen, Ianto.
Rating: PG
Written For: Challenge 625: Dash / Dashed at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Owen is letting the team down and Jack has had enough.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“You’re out of shape,” Jack criticised as Owen caught up with the rest of the team, puffing and panting like a bellows. “What’re you gonna do if a Weevil challenges you to the hundred yard dash? You wouldn’t stands a chance if you were the one getting chased.”
“Screw you!” Owen ground out between ragged gasps.
“I doubt you’d have the stamina for that either. Face it, Owen, for a medic you’re lousy at following your own advice. You need to cut back on the booze and start exercising more.”
“I’m getting plenty of exercise. I’m just a bit winded.”
“The rest of us aren’t, and we had to bag the murfrit without your assistance.” Jack gestured to where Ianto stood holding a carrying case containing a weasel-like creature the size of a large cat. “What if it had bitten someone and our medic was still half-a-mile away?”
Murfrits were venomous; a bite from one could kill a human if the antivenin wasn’t administered quickly enough.
“No one got bitten.”
“That’s not the point; someone might have. Starting tomorrow, you’ll be doing a one-mile run every morning, hangover or not.”
“How’re you gonna enforce that?”
“I’ll be running with you.”
The End
Author:
badly_knittedCharacters: Jack, Owen, Ianto.
Rating: PG
Written For: Challenge 625: Dash / Dashed at
tw100.Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Owen is letting the team down and Jack has had enough.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“You’re out of shape,” Jack criticised as Owen caught up with the rest of the team, puffing and panting like a bellows. “What’re you gonna do if a Weevil challenges you to the hundred yard dash? You wouldn’t stands a chance if you were the one getting chased.”
“Screw you!” Owen ground out between ragged gasps.
“I doubt you’d have the stamina for that either. Face it, Owen, for a medic you’re lousy at following your own advice. You need to cut back on the booze and start exercising more.”
“I’m getting plenty of exercise. I’m just a bit winded.”
“The rest of us aren’t, and we had to bag the murfrit without your assistance.” Jack gestured to where Ianto stood holding a carrying case containing a weasel-like creature the size of a large cat. “What if it had bitten someone and our medic was still half-a-mile away?”
Murfrits were venomous; a bite from one could kill a human if the antivenin wasn’t administered quickly enough.
“No one got bitten.”
“That’s not the point; someone might have. Starting tomorrow, you’ll be doing a one-mile run every morning, hangover or not.”
“How’re you gonna enforce that?”
“I’ll be running with you.”
The End
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