Characters: Jack, Ianto, Owen.
Written For: Challenge 520: Call at tw100.
Summary: Maybe Jack isn’t overreacting this time…
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“Ianto!” Jack bellowed, charging into the main Hub, panting for breath. “Call Owen! Now!”
Ianto studied his lover’s panicked expression; whatever was going on, it didn’t look good. Still, Jack was a drama queen, known to overreact, so it probably wasn’t as serious as it seemed. “What’s up?” he asked mildly, pulling out his phone and turning it on, scrolling through his contacts list.
“You know the chubby Weevil we brought in last night?”
Ianto refused to be affected by Jack’s wild-eyed look. “I do vaguely recall it,” he drawled. Nobody did dry sarcasm better than Ianto Jones.
“Well it’s not chubby, it’s pregnant, and I think it’s about to have little Weevils!”
“It’s in labour?” Ianto stabbed the button to dial Owen’s number. The medic would no doubt be annoyed but this was an emergency.
“Uh huh!” Jack was almost nodding his head off. “Pretty sure. It’s panting and groaning, and… and… you do NOT want to see a Weevil without its boiler suit on! It’s grey and wrinkly and undulating…” Jack trailed off, his panic replaced by horrified disgust.
“What?” Owen’s voice snapping in Ianto’s ear dragged his attention back. “Owen, you’re needed. Weevil in labour!”