Jack's Solution
Feb. 11th, 2007 07:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
laliginFandom: Torchwood (what else?)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: A few swearwords
Word Count: 1405
Summary: Owen's causing problems in the Hub. Mostly for Jack. (Comedy fic! Yay!)
Prompt: 072. Fixed.
Jack's Solution
Day One
The machine beeped irregularly, a few quick pulses followed by a sudden, gaping pause, and then one, two-three-four more beeps. Owen’s expression faded back into concentration, losing the brief panic it had assumed in that overlong silence. He twisted a little, biting his lip, gaze fixed on the screen. A matter of life and death – everything depended on his next actions.
At a flurry of six rapid beeps in a row, he leaned in a little closer to the screen, his entire being focused on this moment.
“Owen, if you don’t stop playing Space Invaders and get back to work I swear I’m going to shoot you.”
There was a loud beep, followed by a few bars of synthesised music that managed to be mocking and apologetic at the same time, and Owen swore. Looking up at Jack, who was glaring at him from his office, he said, “I nearly had a new high score! Christ, I was two shots away!”
“I’m glad to see you have your priorities sorted,” Jack told him dryly. “Now get back to work. And turn that machine off. The sound effects are driving me insane.”
“Doesn’t take much,” Owen muttered, obeying sulkily and trailing back to his desk.
Jack watched him until he sat down, then glanced at the Space Invaders machine, wishing he’d never had it installed.
Day Two
Tosh eyed Jack nervously, noting his gritted teeth and the gradual clenching of his hands in his hair, elbows on his desk. She could hear the Space Invaders machine from her workstation too – even Gwen was looking a little irritated by it, and she was on the other side of the Hub. But then the beeps were loud and penetrating, and she couldn’t help thinking that Owen was skating on seriously thin ice by playing the game again.
“Owen.”
Jack got nothing more than a vague, “Huh?” in reply.
“Owen, turn the damn thing off. Or at least the sound.”
“Nuh-uh. No volume control,” Owen muttered, blasting a few more alien ships into so many pixels.
Jack covered his face with his hands and groaned, then – and Tosh could barely believe it – tried again, his voice pained and pleading as he said, “Turn it off. I’ll pay you.”
“Shh,” Owen hissed, ignoring him. “I’m trying to concentrate here… ah, shit.”
He threw up his hands and stepped away from the machine, swearing again, complaining that he hadn’t even got as high a score as yesterday, while Jack raised his eyes to the ceiling and mouthed, hands pressed together, “Thank you.”
Day Three
Trying to ignore the incessant beeping and occasional hisses of satisfaction from Owen and the machine, Jack went to ask Gwen and Tosh how their research was going. Gwen didn’t even look up as he said her name, and he took a closer look at her, sitting on the couch by the entrance to the autopsy room. She had headphones in, and, in the gap between Space Invader beeps, he could hear the tinny sound of a bass line, turned up to painful volume. Sighing, he turned to Tosh, and found her sitting with a pair of pink earmuffs clamped over her ears, working away blissfully.
He hesitated for a few moments, wincing, then strode over and plucked them from her head, covering her startled, “Hey!” with a quick, and heartfelt, “My need is greater than yours.”
When Ianto brought them coffee a few minutes later, he didn’t comment on Jack’s new fashion accessory, just gave him a sympathetic look, hiding his smirk, and went over to Tosh, offering her some cotton wool to plug her ears instead.
Jack noticed that he hadn’t brought Owen a cup of coffee.
Day Four
Straightening up, Jack dusted down his knees and moved the Space Invaders machine back into place. With a satisfied smile, he poured himself a tiny splash of whiskey and raised his glass to the machine, knocking back the alcohol and grinning to himself.
At lunchtime, he sat in his office, pretending to work and keeping half an eye and an ear out as Owen went over to the game machine. There was a pause, and he heard Owen hitting the “on” button repeatedly, then swearing, kicking the machine.
Jack was smiling to himself as he went back to his work.
But then he heard the horrifying scrape of a heavy object being pulled ever so slightly out of position, and then Owen saying, “Aha!”
He plugged the thing back in and started it up. The beeps began.
Jack’s head hit the desk, then again, and he wrapped his arms round his head, moaning, “Why? Why?”
A few minutes later, Ianto put a cup of his best coffee on Jack’s desk, patted his head, and then put a new pair of black, non-fluffy earmuffs beside the mug, saying over Jack’s pained mewls, “Never mind, sir. It was a good try.”
Day Five
Jack stood up and put the machine back in place again, folding up the Swiss army knife and pocketing it. This time he didn’t break out the whiskey in celebration. He’d see if it worked first.
This time, Owen checked that the machine was plugged in even before he tried to turn it on. When that didn’t work, a certain amount of muttered cursing ensued, and Jack was all prepared to breathe a sigh of relief when he heard Owen say, “What the…?” in confusion. When he dared to look, he saw Owen holding the severed power cable in his hand, turning it off at the plug and frowning at it. Then he got to his feet, and Jack turned swiftly back to his work, all innocence.
“Tosh,” Owen said, heading over to her workstation. “A little help here’d be good.”
She followed him back to the machine, and investigated the cable, peering round to see that it had been cut high up, almost right where it entered the machine.
“Can you fix it?” Owen asked, and she hesitated, looking up at him. He smiled winningly at her, saying, “I’ll owe you one…”
Later, with the beeps echoing round the Hub again, Jack took a pile of research over to Tosh’s desk, slammed them down with perhaps a little more force than usual, and muttered, “Traitor,” before he went back to his office.
Day Six
The trouble with phoning people up to ask about soundproofing a room, Jack reflected, was that one had to remove one’s earmuffs to speak to them. They were most unhelpful anyway, and as he slammed the phone down, cursing, and reached for his earmuffs again, he glared daggers at Owen, who was halfway through yet another game on the bloody thing. He kept shouting updates to them whenever he passed another thousand points or so. None of them were particularly interested.
When Ianto came downstairs and told them, raising his voice to be heard, that there had been a spate of Weevil attacks in Splott, and it was likely that there were three alpha males on the loose and angry, Jack practically sprinted out of the Hub, grabbing his coat on the way and barely waiting for Tosh and Gwen to catch up with him.
He’d take three angry Weevils over another hour of Space Invaders any day.
Day Seven
This was it. This was the one – Owen could feel it. This time he was going to win. He still had two lives left and less than five hundred points to go before he’d beaten the top score. He was so close.
Concentrating fiercely, he whittled away at the little pixel-based buggers, and got it down to ten more shots. Then five. Four. Three. Two. One.
There was an almighty bang, and he leaped backwards from the machine, yelling, “Jesus!” as the screen exploded and smoke billowed out. Wide-eyed and staring in shock at the thing, he checked his face and chest nervously, relieved to find that there were no cuts, nor pieces of glass or metal sticking out of his skin.
He turned around, and met Jack’s beaming smile as the man – the psychotic fool! – put his gun back in its holster, nodded cheerfully to Owen, then walked past without saying a word, a spring in his step as he wandered through to his office and fell into his chair.
Jack leant back and put his feet up on his desk, smiling broadly, and sighing happily.
Problem solved.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: A few swearwords
Word Count: 1405
Summary: Owen's causing problems in the Hub. Mostly for Jack. (Comedy fic! Yay!)
Prompt: 072. Fixed.
Jack's Solution
Day One
The machine beeped irregularly, a few quick pulses followed by a sudden, gaping pause, and then one, two-three-four more beeps. Owen’s expression faded back into concentration, losing the brief panic it had assumed in that overlong silence. He twisted a little, biting his lip, gaze fixed on the screen. A matter of life and death – everything depended on his next actions.
At a flurry of six rapid beeps in a row, he leaned in a little closer to the screen, his entire being focused on this moment.
“Owen, if you don’t stop playing Space Invaders and get back to work I swear I’m going to shoot you.”
There was a loud beep, followed by a few bars of synthesised music that managed to be mocking and apologetic at the same time, and Owen swore. Looking up at Jack, who was glaring at him from his office, he said, “I nearly had a new high score! Christ, I was two shots away!”
“I’m glad to see you have your priorities sorted,” Jack told him dryly. “Now get back to work. And turn that machine off. The sound effects are driving me insane.”
“Doesn’t take much,” Owen muttered, obeying sulkily and trailing back to his desk.
Jack watched him until he sat down, then glanced at the Space Invaders machine, wishing he’d never had it installed.
Day Two
Tosh eyed Jack nervously, noting his gritted teeth and the gradual clenching of his hands in his hair, elbows on his desk. She could hear the Space Invaders machine from her workstation too – even Gwen was looking a little irritated by it, and she was on the other side of the Hub. But then the beeps were loud and penetrating, and she couldn’t help thinking that Owen was skating on seriously thin ice by playing the game again.
“Owen.”
Jack got nothing more than a vague, “Huh?” in reply.
“Owen, turn the damn thing off. Or at least the sound.”
“Nuh-uh. No volume control,” Owen muttered, blasting a few more alien ships into so many pixels.
Jack covered his face with his hands and groaned, then – and Tosh could barely believe it – tried again, his voice pained and pleading as he said, “Turn it off. I’ll pay you.”
“Shh,” Owen hissed, ignoring him. “I’m trying to concentrate here… ah, shit.”
He threw up his hands and stepped away from the machine, swearing again, complaining that he hadn’t even got as high a score as yesterday, while Jack raised his eyes to the ceiling and mouthed, hands pressed together, “Thank you.”
Day Three
Trying to ignore the incessant beeping and occasional hisses of satisfaction from Owen and the machine, Jack went to ask Gwen and Tosh how their research was going. Gwen didn’t even look up as he said her name, and he took a closer look at her, sitting on the couch by the entrance to the autopsy room. She had headphones in, and, in the gap between Space Invader beeps, he could hear the tinny sound of a bass line, turned up to painful volume. Sighing, he turned to Tosh, and found her sitting with a pair of pink earmuffs clamped over her ears, working away blissfully.
He hesitated for a few moments, wincing, then strode over and plucked them from her head, covering her startled, “Hey!” with a quick, and heartfelt, “My need is greater than yours.”
When Ianto brought them coffee a few minutes later, he didn’t comment on Jack’s new fashion accessory, just gave him a sympathetic look, hiding his smirk, and went over to Tosh, offering her some cotton wool to plug her ears instead.
Jack noticed that he hadn’t brought Owen a cup of coffee.
Day Four
Straightening up, Jack dusted down his knees and moved the Space Invaders machine back into place. With a satisfied smile, he poured himself a tiny splash of whiskey and raised his glass to the machine, knocking back the alcohol and grinning to himself.
At lunchtime, he sat in his office, pretending to work and keeping half an eye and an ear out as Owen went over to the game machine. There was a pause, and he heard Owen hitting the “on” button repeatedly, then swearing, kicking the machine.
Jack was smiling to himself as he went back to his work.
But then he heard the horrifying scrape of a heavy object being pulled ever so slightly out of position, and then Owen saying, “Aha!”
He plugged the thing back in and started it up. The beeps began.
Jack’s head hit the desk, then again, and he wrapped his arms round his head, moaning, “Why? Why?”
A few minutes later, Ianto put a cup of his best coffee on Jack’s desk, patted his head, and then put a new pair of black, non-fluffy earmuffs beside the mug, saying over Jack’s pained mewls, “Never mind, sir. It was a good try.”
Day Five
Jack stood up and put the machine back in place again, folding up the Swiss army knife and pocketing it. This time he didn’t break out the whiskey in celebration. He’d see if it worked first.
This time, Owen checked that the machine was plugged in even before he tried to turn it on. When that didn’t work, a certain amount of muttered cursing ensued, and Jack was all prepared to breathe a sigh of relief when he heard Owen say, “What the…?” in confusion. When he dared to look, he saw Owen holding the severed power cable in his hand, turning it off at the plug and frowning at it. Then he got to his feet, and Jack turned swiftly back to his work, all innocence.
“Tosh,” Owen said, heading over to her workstation. “A little help here’d be good.”
She followed him back to the machine, and investigated the cable, peering round to see that it had been cut high up, almost right where it entered the machine.
“Can you fix it?” Owen asked, and she hesitated, looking up at him. He smiled winningly at her, saying, “I’ll owe you one…”
Later, with the beeps echoing round the Hub again, Jack took a pile of research over to Tosh’s desk, slammed them down with perhaps a little more force than usual, and muttered, “Traitor,” before he went back to his office.
Day Six
The trouble with phoning people up to ask about soundproofing a room, Jack reflected, was that one had to remove one’s earmuffs to speak to them. They were most unhelpful anyway, and as he slammed the phone down, cursing, and reached for his earmuffs again, he glared daggers at Owen, who was halfway through yet another game on the bloody thing. He kept shouting updates to them whenever he passed another thousand points or so. None of them were particularly interested.
When Ianto came downstairs and told them, raising his voice to be heard, that there had been a spate of Weevil attacks in Splott, and it was likely that there were three alpha males on the loose and angry, Jack practically sprinted out of the Hub, grabbing his coat on the way and barely waiting for Tosh and Gwen to catch up with him.
He’d take three angry Weevils over another hour of Space Invaders any day.
Day Seven
This was it. This was the one – Owen could feel it. This time he was going to win. He still had two lives left and less than five hundred points to go before he’d beaten the top score. He was so close.
Concentrating fiercely, he whittled away at the little pixel-based buggers, and got it down to ten more shots. Then five. Four. Three. Two. One.
There was an almighty bang, and he leaped backwards from the machine, yelling, “Jesus!” as the screen exploded and smoke billowed out. Wide-eyed and staring in shock at the thing, he checked his face and chest nervously, relieved to find that there were no cuts, nor pieces of glass or metal sticking out of his skin.
He turned around, and met Jack’s beaming smile as the man – the psychotic fool! – put his gun back in its holster, nodded cheerfully to Owen, then walked past without saying a word, a spring in his step as he wandered through to his office and fell into his chair.
Jack leant back and put his feet up on his desk, smiling broadly, and sighing happily.
Problem solved.