Characters: Owen, Ianto.
Written For: Challenge 527: Watch at tw100.
Summary: Sometimes Owen gets what he deserves.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“Can’t you watch where you’re going?” Owen snapped as he almost collided with Ianto.
“I thought I was,” Torchwood’s archivist replied mildly. “You might find it easier to get around without bumping into things if you weren’t wearing sunglasses. It’s not exactly brilliant daylight in here.”
“I’ve got a headache.”
“You’ve got a hangover. Again.”
That wasn’t an unusual state of affairs. When the workday ended, Owen usually headed to one of Cardiff’s many pubs to drown his sorrows and hopefully pick up a bed partner for the night. For a man of medicine, he wasn’t big on healthy living.
“So what if I have?” Owen was cranky at the best of times, but hung over he was a hundred times worse.
“So nothing. I don’t care if you choose to drink yourself to death, but I object to being blamed for your inability to look where you’re going.”
“Whatever,” Owen muttered, roughly shoving his way past Ianto. “Are you going to make coffee sometime in the next century?” he added, looking back over his shoulder and promptly walking smack into the wall.
Ianto didn’t reply, just walked away smiling as he listened to Owen swearing.
Karma 1, Owen 0!