![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
This Means War
Jan. 5th, 2011 12:36 amFandom: Torchwood
Characters: Owen, Tosh, Ianto
Words: 200
Rating: PG with bad words
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Torchwood
Spoilers: None
AN: Written for
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
shamazipan , who gave me 15 minutes and the prompt "weasel" and demanded I wrote her fic. As she has nursed me for two days who was I to say no?“You little weasel!” yelled Owen across the Hub.
Tosh looked up from her monitor. “What’s wrong Owen?”
The doctor stormed up from his med bay, his face like thunder, and glanced around the Hub.
“Where is he? Where’s Ianto?”
“Said he had to go out on an urgent restock.”
“I’ll fucking urgent restock him!”
Tosh giggled. “What’s he done now?”
By way of an answer Owen threw his scalpel at her. Tosh squealed and scooted to the side as the knife hit the floor. She glared at him, ready to start shouting herself, when she registered that the piece hadn’t made the right sort of noise as it hit the ground. She stooped and picked it up, testing it with her fingers.
“It’s rubber.”
“I bloody well know. As is every other one of my instruments.”
Tosh giggled again. “He did warn you that he’d get you back.”
“Yeah well, if it’s war he wants, it’s war he’s gonna get.” And with that Owen stomped back down to his med bay. Tosh opened the drawer next to her desk which was full of gleaming surgical instruments. She grinned to herself. “I’ve got a pretty good idea who will win though."
