Characters: Owen, Ianto.
Written For: Challenge 640: Thirteen at tw100.
Summary: Owen should know better than to test things on himself.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
The aliens had called it a rejuvenating tonic when they’d given it to Torchwood, along with a number of other gifts, as a thankyou for rescuing them from near certain death when their spaceship had malfunctioned. They were traders in luxury goods, and earth hadn’t even been on their list of planets to visit, but the Rift never let little things like that get in its way.
Anyway, because it was medicinal in nature Owen had taken charge of the vial of silver liquid, saying it needed to be tested in order to evaluate its usefulness. He’d analysed it in various ways, but that didn’t tell him much beyond its chemical composition, so…
“This stuff is amazing! One drop and I feel like I’m thirteen again!”
Ianto looked down at the medic from where he was leaning on the railings above the autopsy bay. “That sounds about right.”
“What?” Owen frowned, confused.
“Did you look in a mirror lately? On the bright side, you won’t need to shave for a few years.”
Pulling out his phone, Owen snapped a selfie. “Fucking hell, I AM thirteen!” he squeaked. “How…?”
“It’s a rejuvenating tonic, Owen. What did you think it would do?”