Title: I'm a Doctor, Not An Alien Zoologist.
Characters/Pairings: Owen (pov) JackxIanto Tosh, Gwen, and you could say there's a little SpockxKirk in there.
Rating: R for language (Owen pov) and one sexual situation, a bit of angst
Summery: Not another Star Trek/Torchwood crossover! Um, yeah, sorry but it is. Not a crossover, really, more of an assumption that they're all nerds. In which Owen regrets something he says.
The autopsy bay is stinking from some … thing the rift has decided to drop on us. It's purple, and has about fifteen tentacles, and a weird sort of beak thing on the part I'm assuming is the head. Jack rather cheerful deposited this nasty thing on my autopsy table, informing me that it was dead, and he needed me to do an autopsy. The rest of the team showed up then, to stare at me like this is a bloody sporting event, while I'm supposed to be cutting the thing up.
When Jack and teaboy traipsed off about an hour ago on a rift alert, I had assumed that they were just going off to shag in the SUV somewhere. I never suspected that there had been an actual fucking rift spike!
Now they're all standing around, while I'm the only one doing any work, and Gwen is looking really concerned. I mean I understand why, people have been disappearing from street corners lately, and this might be the thing doing it, but this is Torchwood. People are always disappearing.
Of course, all these disappearances are happening during mysterious CCTV blackouts, about which Tosh can tell us nothing- thank you very fucking much!- which means we've got nothing. We only know about it because of the rift spikes that have been happing during the blackouts.
“Do you even know if this thing is dangerous,” I ask, prodding one of the tentacles with the scalpel. It's not that I'm staling, it's just that I've got no idea where to start.
“Not a clue,” Jack says, “I don't know the species, but we can't be too careful.”
“Right,” I mutter.
“But Jack, if this thing is dead, and it just came through the rift, how could it be the thing that attacking people?” Gwen asks.
“Because we've no idea if this is the only one,” teaboy answers.
Just because he's fucking the boss, doesn't mean he should answer for him.
Jack grins at him like he's his favourite student and he's just got the answer right. All he's done is parrot something anyone with half a brain could figure out. Trouble is, I like Gwen, but there are times she acts as though doesn't even have half a brain cell.
I decide to go for it, and make a cut in the area where the thing's stomach should be, if it makes any kind of biological sense. Figure it's the best place to start, see if it's digesting that drunken student who disappeared last night.
Its insides look like milk and spaghetti, and the smell makes me nearly vomit.
“Found anything?” Jack asks.
Jack, I' don't even know where to start with this thing,” I mutter, “I'm looking for it's digestive tract, to see if I can find any partially digested teenagers, but so far, I can't even find that. Didn't teach us the anatomy of alien squids at medical school. I'm a Doctor, I'm not a fucking alien zoologist or something.”
And of course, teaboy decides to break out with a huge smirk then.
“You find this funny, teaboy?” I ask, gritting my teeth. He would find it funny.
Teaboy's grin only gets wider as he gives me a look with that particular twinkle in his eye that tells me he's fucking cracking up inside, and says, “Of course not, Dr McCoy.”
I stare at him a moment, wondering if he's finally cracked under the pressure, gone completely insane. It wouldn't be unexpected, hell, it had taken longer than I'd thought it would. I mean fuck, murderous cyborg girlfriends, cannibal, sex with Jack- I wouldn't have lasted nearly as long as he has. Then it hits me, and the worst part is that I completely set myself up for it. That and the fact that Tosh is now giggling uncontrollably.
“Well, excuse me if I don't have all of Star Trek on DVD like you probably do. I'm not a complete nerd.”
“And is Jack Captain Kirk?” Tosh asks, with an odd glint in her eye. Great, they aren't even fucking listening to me.
“It would make sense.”
“Why Tosh, ,” teaboy replies, “I'm sure I have no idea what your implying.”
I wish they'd bloody well speak English.
“I'm who?” Jack asks, brow furrowed.
Good to know I'm not the only one who's confused. Well, except Gwen who looks completely lost, but she usually looks completely lost so that's no change.
“Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise,” Ianto smirks at Jack, and the looks he's giving him is utterly disgusting. “Dashing, hansom Captain, sleeps with anything. Actually, the comparison is rather adept, sir. From Star Trek.”
Like we all don't know what the real reason is behind Ianto's 'sirs'. It's completely obnoxious how the two of them are all over each other, but they think it's some big secret they're shagging.
“Oh, I think Rhys and Banana went to see that film,” Gwen say.
Tosh answers in some near gibberish about science-fiction films and the merits of the new Star Trek versus old.
That's enough of that, I mean, the squid thing is is smelling worse with every second, and I think that if I don't get it cut up and stored some, then I'll never get the smell out of my cloths.
“Thank you, now if everyone can get out, I have actual work to be doing,” unlike some people, who just make coffee and shag the boss. Or whatever the hell it is Gwen and Tosh do all day. I think it's play solitaire and Warcraft respectively.
You know, it occurs to me that except for the shagging Jack part, Ianto has a pretty nice set up.
I can't believe I'm doing an autopsy on an alien squid. Sometimes, I really hate this job.
“Oi, teaboy!” I shout, “Coffee!”
They're taking the bloody Star Trek thing way too far. I suspect that teaboy may have the DVD like I said, since
Jack, who'd never heard of it before a week ago, is now walking around quoting Shatner. At least I think he is, I don't know if they're really lines from that damned show, I'm just guessing.
I think I heard him say 'sabatage' once.
I'm now permanently Bones, too. It's fucking fantastic.
I also haven't had any coffee for half an hour, and damn it, I'm not going to keep my eyes open today if I don't get some soon. Nothings been through the rift at all since the stupid squid. Which by the way, had nothing inside of it that remotely resembled a stomach, let alone a person. It did have a sack filled with some nasty purple goo that spurted all over me. I may end up burning my cloths from that day.
Right, well, it's either sit here all day and wait for teaboy to get off his arse, or get someone else off his arse, and bring me coffee or find him myself. Finding him myself sounds a little more interesting right about now, so I close my solitaire window and pick up my coffee cup.
“Oi, teaboy! Plan on ever doing your job?” I shout, as I head for the coffee machine.
I pass Tosh, and sure enough, it's Warcraft. She's playing some elf chick, and she seems to know what she's doing.
Oh, god! Why the hell is it always fucking me? Why, why, why, why?
I found teaboy, if you haven't guessed, and Harkness too. He's got teaboy pinned against the kitchen counter, and currently has his hand down the front of his trousers. They aren't facing me, and neither one seems to have heard me come up behind them- I wonder why- and teaboy is moaning.
“You were saying, Spock” Jack mumbles, and I can just hear his grin.
“There,” teaboy gasps, “there are rumours amongst the crew about us, Captain.”
“Just rumours?” Jack says.
I shake myself out of my shock, since I need to say something quick or I'm going to have to watch them having kinky Star Trek sex over the counter. Ugh! That is so fucking unsanitary.
And disturbing. It's also disturbing.
“Hey! Stop harassing the teraboy, Harkness, so he can make me my bloody coffee,” I don't think I've ever seen two people jump like that.
Jack grins widely, like he's proud of what he was doing, very proud. Teaboy at least has the dignity to blush a lot, and try and refasten his trousers. Too late, of course, I've already seen much more than I'd ever want to.
“Was there something you wanted, Owen,” teaboy says, and it is amazing how quickly he has regained something like dignity. He also looks almost normal except that he's breathing too fast and he's flushed.
“You to wash your hands before you touch that coffee machine. And to have the dignity to go hide in the Archives if you want to shag Jack.”
“Because dignity is something you know all about, Owen,” teaboy scowls. Jack is still loitering about, grinning, but he's keeping his hands to himself now, thank fucking god.
“Oi, thought I was Bones now?”
The teaboy smirks, and it looks downright triumphant. “And here I was thinking you didn't like your nickname.”
Before I can come up with some snide retort to put that one to shame, Jack decides to interrupt.
“Play nice, kids,” he says, and then leers at teaboy, “I'd like you to report to the bridge when you finish here, Mr Spock.”
He turns on his heel, leaving the kitchen.
“You know what?” I say loudly, “Fuck the coffee, I'm going to Starbucks. You and Jack have fun doing disturbing things to each other while role-playing shit television shows from the sixties.”
As I pull on my coat, and check to make sure I've got the price of on of those damned expensive cups of sludge that Starbucks tries to pass off as coffee, I sigh. So I sacrificed my coffee, so what? It was all in the name of saving my eyes from witnessing … that.
If two guys want to shag, good for them, I've got no problem with it. It's Jack and Ianto I have a problem with.
Its the middle of the fucking night, and I'm woken up by my mobile. I keep it by my bed, only because of the job, and I'm sure this phone call must be job related, as no one else would call at … three am! Dear god, someone had better be dead, or the world had better be about to be invaded by weevils or something.
Well, I called it. Jharkness is on my caller id. I press the talk button.
“What is it?” I say, blearily “Did someone die? Other than you.”
“I need help,” Jack sounds almost frantic. OK, maybe this call might have a point.
“What, what happened?”
“Ianto, he … he's in trouble.”
“What do you mean?” I say, and I'm out of bed in seconds, pulling on pants.
“We were out weevil hunting, and I think we found the thing that has been eating people. It attacked Ianto ..."
The teaboy's been passed out four hours now, and Jack's been hovering the entire time. I keep telling him that I'll never get anything figured out with him hovering like this, but I don't think he heard me. Oh, and I have another ... thing to autopsy. The one that was eating people, great big fangs full of venom, the stuff that knocked out Ianto when he was bitten. Jack shot the thing dead shortly after. As far as we can guess, it has some kind of natural e.m.p. field, that was what was knocking out the cctv. All in all, anticlimactic.
“Jack,” I sight, not wanting to upset someone so clearly on edge. It's actually rather astounding how upset he seems. I knew that the whole 'you're just his part-time shag' thing was an exaggeration, but I never did think he cared for Ianto this much. Now, good, I'm afraid that if I can't get teaboy out of this coma, Jack's going to kill me.
Which would just be the fucking cherry on top of this night. With my luck, it'll actually happen.
Jack looks exhausted, which makes sense since he's emotional stressed, and it's four in the mourning. He's got a chair pulled up next to the autopsy table, and he won't let go of teaboy's hand, which is sweet and all but puts him
directly in my way if something were to happen. And he needs to rest, or he's going to push himself till he crashes. But he's never going to leave of his own volition.
“Jack, I didn't want to have to do this,” and I really mean that, “but as your doctor, I'm ordering you to go to bed.”
“But,” Jack glances at me, and I can see how worried he is.
“You are of absolutely no good to Ianto exhausted and stressed.”
“I don't need sleep,” Jack mutters.
I can't help but snort. “No, you need sleep, you just never do. Which is completely unhealthy for you.”
He makes no move to go.
“Look, at the very least go pretend to sleep so Ianto doesn't murder me when he wakes up,” I say.
Jack looks at me, and I know he's picked up on my very deliberate wording of that sentence. “Inato gets mad at me when I don't sleep enough,” he sounds fucking miserable.
“So save him the trouble of having to get angry at you,” I can't believe I'm using this tactic, but I think Jack's tired enough that it will work.
He apparently is, since he finally moves from the folding chair, pausing to stroke Ianto's check in the sort of intimate, couple-y gesture that always makes situations wonderfully awkward for third parties, and begins to climb the stairs.
“I'll wake you if anything happens,” I say.
I watch as he leaves, and once he's gone, I slump down in the chair he's just vacated. I have no bloody idea what to do. What if Ianto doesn't wake up? I don't know what it was that alien did to him, injected him with something, and while I think I've stopped the poison, he's still asleep!
“Dammit!” I curse, “You are too fucking much trouble, teaboy. You had better wake up, because if you don't, not only will Jack kill me, but I think he may have a nervous breakdown. So get the hell up, cause you aren't worth this aggravation.”
I realise how stupid I sound, talking to an unconscious co-worker, but once I started the words just kept coming. It's not nerves, I'm not worried about the teaboy … not waking up. I'm not sure what it is, but it's not me being worried or anything.
“He cares about you. I think he might be in love with you, which is disturbing to think about. I mean, Jack treats us all like his kids, and you're practically my little brother. It's like, would you want to think of your little brother having sex with your dad? God, I'm sure you two have role-played that. Ugh.”
I don't voice the rest of it, even to an unconscious Ianto. The fact that I only ever said what I did about Jack not c because I was worried he'd hurt Ianto. I mean, he doesn't have the best fucking track record! I didn't want Ianto to get attached, again, and then have Jack run off first chance he got. Again.
“And your coffee is the best coffee on the face of the planet. So if you die, I'm going to be pissed. I almost hate you for your coffee, you just can't go back to Starbucks after having Ianto Jones.”
“I never knew you cared so much, Owen,” a voice croaks, and it's ragged, and raw and very alive. I lift my head from where I've rested it on my hands, Ianto is very conscious. Fuck.
I get up, going into full doctor mode. “How do you feel?”
“Thirsty,” teaboy informs me, “And sore.”
“Yeah, well an alien did try to eat you, and injected you with some nasty toxin, so I expected that,” I say, fetching a glass of water and helping Ianto to sit up and take a sip. “Not very sure what it was, but I combated the symptoms and you're alive, which means you'll probably be fine. I hope.”
“Where's Jack,” he asks. I'd been waiting for that one.
“I sent him to bed,” I inform teaboy, who looks quietly pleased. “I did promise to get him when you woke up.”
We're quiet a few moments, then when it gets really awkward I turn to go. I wish I were able to ask Ianto how much he heard, but that would be sort of an admission of guilt in and of it's self, so you know …
“If you're going to play Star Trek, teaboy, I'd wear red a little less often,” I say on my way out, “Seems kind of dangerous.