quitehomoerotic | for alien_catcher An average day at Torchwood 3

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for alien_catcher An average day at Torchwood 3

There's no such thing as an average day for Torchwood.

A day might be spent cleaning up after a Weevil that broke free of the sewers and decided to go on a killing rampage across Grangetown, or hunting down a shopkeeper in Llandaff who discovered a device that made everyone do as he said (and that one was a particularly long day, especially when he started hooking in the team themselves).

Or it could be worse than that. Something almost unbearable. A day where they sit in the Hub and nothing goes wrong.

A day where they had to get caught up with the dreaded paperwork.

A day like this one.

Jack sat at the desk in his office with a pile of paperwork he ought to have sifted through at least a month ago. It isn't even that he was bad at it or missed things out, it was just that he'd just rather be out there being the action man than the man behind the desk dotting his Is and crossing his Ts.

It was 6:30pm, time enough for any regular (whatever that meant) working office to be packing up and going home. But Jack barely thought about it. He lived here after all; Torchwood was his life and sometimes he could forget that might not be the same for everyone else.

His eyes flickered from the paperwork on his desk to the open programme on his computer screen. A rift monitor, registering... just about nothing.

He sighed. He'd almost prefer the world falling apart.

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Beneath Jack's office, Gwen was equally as bored.

Now, she certainly had paperwork. Quite a backlog, actually, but she was still staring at the screen of her monitor blankly, spending more time spinning in her swivel chair than actually typing. She'd made it as far as the time and date for her latest report, but she had a feeling Jack expected something slightly more in-depth.

Gwen wasn't sure if it was the spinning or the glow of her workstation that made her feel dizzy, but either way, she needed something to pull her head out of the clouds. A cuppa should do the trick.

She distracted herself by making tea, taking it a step further to deliver a cup to Jack as well. The Hub was ghostly quiet, and she wandered into his office, setting the steaming up on the corner of his desk and offering him a smile.

"Pretty pathetic, isn't it? I'd give anything for a Nostrovite rampage right about now."

Jack didn't glance up from his papers when Gwen arrived. He didn't thank her or even acknowledge the drink she'd placed down. In fact the only way it was obvious he was aware of it at all was the fact he picked up the mug and took a drink from it.

He waited a pause after she finished speaking and then, still looking at his papers, spoke up. "Yeah. At this rate I'm thinking maybe it's a good idea to let Janet loose on Queen street just to see what happens."

He looked up from his papers and took another sip from his mug. "That's a joke by the way."

Gently, he placed the mug back down and leaned his arms forward against his desk. "Got anything for me?"

Gwen blinked rapidly, taking a sip of her own tea to try to hide that incredibly obvious look of guilt on her face. She wasn't sure if it was for part of her hoping Jack had been serious, or for the fact that she hadn't finished half tonne of paperwork on her desk that seemed drastically more daunting than a million weevils could ever be.

"Um, no, but I'm sure I'll finish up that report soon," she lied. Rhys was out of town on business, and the idea of heading home to an even more empty and pathetic evening wasn't particularly appealing anyway. Gwen would rather spend her night spinning in a swivel chair.

"You know, Jack," Gwen continued, deciding a change in subject would be the safest route if she didn't want him to just dismiss her back to the monotonous boredom of typing and staring into space. "Maybe you should consider gettin' a place of your own. Somewhere to go after work and all. Maybe even find a few hobbies?"

Jack just stared.

"I'm going to hope that was your idea of humour," he said almost sternly. A quick dismissing of the matter before twisting the conversation yet again. He didn't want to talk about him. Why on earth would he want to do that? Well, unless the topic was to do with just how handsome and dashing he was; that he could cope with.

"Nothing? Seriously? Not anything. Not even any weird police reports? Not a thing?" He let out a long overly-dramatic breath.

And because of course he knew her well enough to know that if she had decided she wanted to press a matter she wouldn't simply let him evade it, he added, "You can go home if you like. All of you. Get an early night or go play housewife for the evening."

"Nothing, not even a peep from the police. Looks as if the whole universe is takin' the day off." Gwen pulled a face, crossing her arms. "And there's no point in goin' home. Rhys is in Ipswich for some... lorry convention thingie. I might as well stay and get some work done then, yeah?"

Of course, she didn't move from her spot, as she wasn't particularly in a hurry to do much of anything besides simply talking about getting work done. As a matter of fact, she was far more interested in pressing Jack about things he didn't want to talk about.

"I wasn't jokin'. A flat wouldn't kill you, you know. It's not as if you don't make enough to have your own little place."

Jack pulled a slight face. A slight displeased and almost confused face. "But don't you think that's kinda weird in itself. I mean nothing. There's always something we can chase up. Even if it's kids making hoax calls. Maybe we should look at that."

A beat.

"Grasping at straws? Yeah maybe. And lorry convention? Really? They have those? What, so they can stand around and compare the size of their axles?" He laughed, evidently finding his little joke more funny than it was.

But of course his laugh then quickly faded away to nothing and was replaced by a stern look. "Gwen," he said with firm tones. Enough.

Gwen huffed. Typical Jack, it was, always locking her out before she even scratched the surface of what could constitute as Jack's personal life. Not saying he had one, which Gwen suspected was part of the problem. But she still didn't understand his constant need to be so guarded around her.

"Yes, a lorry convention. First one he's been too. Actually," she came into the room, leaning against his desk and setting her tea down as she spoke, making it clear she wasn't planning on going anywhere anytime soon. "It's probably somethin' you could learn from, Jack. You know, communication within an organization. Might do some good, to know what's goin' on at the other Torchwood branches, I mean. The ones we haven't lost, anyway."

Jack leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms together over his chest.

"Well someone didn't have their weetabix this morning." He sighed and gestured his hands up, defensively.

"Look if you want to give Archie a call in Glasgow then feel free, but you remember what happened last time Tosh did. She was on that call for three hours. Three, Gwen. That's not a prospect I really relish. So if that's what you want to do, please, knock yourself out, but don't try and drag me into it."

He reached forward for his mug and took a long sip from it, looking over at Gwen over the top of the rim. Much as he didn't want to talk about himself, he didn't mind talking about her. Even if he wasn't very good at it.

"So," he said, "everything all right at home?"

Gwen couldn't exactly argue on that point. Communication was all fine and well and good if someone else was doing it when it came to the Glasgow office.

Well, she thought, you win some, you lose some.

"Things are brilliant," Gwen said. "I'd go on about wedding woes but I'm sure you don't want to hear it. Honestly, I don't know if Rhys' mum or mine is the worst. When I got home yesterday, I had six messages about flowers on the answerphone. I don't even like flowers all that much." She sighed, shaking her head. "I'm startin' to think we should have just eloped. All this wedding mess ends up bein' more for the friends and family than anythin' else. I'm sure you've been to enough weddings in your time to understand." She looked down, and when she spoke again, her tone darkened in a way she didn't really understand. "I think it's better to make it really official, though. I'd just like to get it over with."

Were Gwen talking about alien skin samples or a crashed craft fallen off track from its journey to Fultax Four then Jack would understand perfectly. But when the topic fell to weddings then she may as well have been talking in gibberish (it was as good as that).

Still, he tried to look like he understood, even if it didn't really work. The thought was there.

"I don't get weddings," he said finally, leaning forward a little and gesticulating his hands out in front of them. "People pay all this money just for one day that they stress about for months on end, and the day itself is just as stressful, usually with family you don't even want to see, and people that aren't even friends. You want to get married then great, go for it, but why its got to be this big occasion I don't get. Go to a registry office, do it there, get it done with. Sign the piece of paper and move on."

It was hardly a romantic way to look at things.

Gwen gawped at Jack for a long moment, before huffing a breath.

"God, Jack, you're rubbish at this supportive thing, aren't you."

It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact.

"It's not just about all that, though. There's symbolism involved. You're pledging to spend the rest of your life with one other person, of course it's a big occasion. Plus, you know, that little girl dream of the big fluffy dress and the walk down the isle. It's a pain in the arse, yeah, but it's still important." She leaned closer to him, looking at him carefully. "You are plannin' on comin' though, aren't you?"

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