Characters: Ianto, Owen, Jack.
Summary: Ianto has been subjected to some disgusting smalls, but this is by far the worst!
Word Count: 500
Written For: Prompt 138: Foul at anythingdrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Part of Ianto’s job was caring for the Hub’s alien residents. At any given time there were usually several Weevils and a handful of other alien creatures in the cells, some of them permanent, others temporary guests awaiting transport to somewhere more suitable, or a Rift opening that would take them back where they’d come from.
Ianto didn’t mind looking after them; most required little more than regular feeding, fresh water, and having their cells sluiced down in the interests of hygiene. Ianto would often chat with his charges, sharing Hub gossip and asking them about themselves. Not that they answered, but that wasn’t the point; showing interest in them was polite, and his mam had always told him good manners cost nothing. Besides, the various creatures seemed to welcome the attention.
Most often when he visited the cells to carry out his duties Ianto would be the only human present. Sometimes Jack would be there, checking on a new arrival, or chatting to Janet. Occasionally Owen might also stop by; while Ianto was responsible for the residents’ basic care and feeding, it was Owen’s job to make sure they remained healthy, and that meant studying the different species, learning about their anatomy and physiology, doing blood tests, taking skin, hair and other samples, running scans…
This time, as Ianto arrived with the residents’ evening meals, Owen was hurriedly gathering his equipment, intent on getting out of the cells’ observation area as quickly as possible. Ianto only needed to breathe in once to understand why the medic was in such a hurry.
“Good God, what is that stench?” he gasped, eyes watering. Working for Torchwood Three he’d been assailed by any number of unpleasant odours, most of the residents could be a bit whiffy and one or two might even be described as pungent, but never in all his time there had he been subjected to anything so foul, not even during one of Owen’s autopsies of particularly ripe decaying corpses. The vile smell was so overpowering he could scarcely draw breath. If he’d had a hand to spare from the buckets he was carrying he would have been holding his nose like Owen was. “Jack didn’t say anything about a new arrival.”
“That’s ‘cause there isn’t one,” Owen declared nasally, trying to pick all his gear up in one hand but only succeeding in dropping half of it.
“Then where’s the stink coming from? Please don’t tell me the drainage system is backed up!” According to Jack, that shouldn’t even be possible thanks to the judicious use of alien tech.
“It’s not the drains.” Letting go of his nose, Owen snatched up all his gear and pushed past Ianto towards the exit just as a sound like a loud raspberry came from one of the cells. “On the plus side I’ve learned something new about Weevils; baked beans give them really bad gas!”
Following Owen out and firmly closing the door, Ianto decided feeding time could wait a while.