A shower, clean clothes, a soft bed, a straight shot of whiskey – was it really too much to ask for someone who had saved the world four times this week? It wasn't that big of a request, or at least Owen hadn't thought that it was. Jack hadn't seen the harm in it, having sent him home as soon as the world stopped going to hell, Owen having been working the longest other than Jack himself, with only a few hours sleep whenever he could grab them on the sofa in the hub if his autopsy table was occupied.
He had only been home about ten minutes before the banging had began, a loud thudding that reverberated through his front door. Owen groaned, he didn't want to deal with whoever that was, it wasn't going to be a pleasant experience from the sound of it. He got out of his shower grudgingly, turning it off before wrapping a towel around his waist and then heading for the front door. Knowing that whoever was making such a racket was unlikely to go away and that it would no doubt be even more hassle if one of his neighbours called the police he opened the door. On his doorstep, much to his confusion, was John Hart, or whatever he was calling himself these days.
"Good, you are finally home." He stated in greeting as he pushed his way past Owen and into the flat. "I'd been wondering when you would arrive, I've been here three times this week looking for you so I could collect on our deal."
Owen groaned, he had forgotten about that. He really should stop drinking it only got him into trouble. He had been drinking in a pub the previous week and had ended up drinking with Hart and then playing darts, where the other man had learnt to play Owen had no idea, but he was a shark. The other man seemed to win every round they played and Owen hadn't been willing to accept defeat and had continually upped his bets against the other man, despite his obvious lack of skill in the game. In the end he had accepted one last game in which John had chosen the stakes, and quite predictably he had lost.
He didn't think that the other man would have chased him down to collect though, to be honest he hadn't really thought Hart was serious. The man was like Jack an intergalactic flirt, he could get whoever he wanted into his bed with just a little bit of work, Owen didn't see why the other man was chasing him.
He picked up the glass of whiskey he had poured himself before his shower, drinking it quickly before John thought of taking it for himself. He thought about the situation; from the fact that John had tracked him down and been at his flat a few times looking for him it was obvious that the other man wasn't going to give up.
The fact of the matter though, was that even if Owen had bet his ass he was just too knackered after the last week to follow through. He considered the issue for a moment more before walking towards his bedroom.
"I'm going to bed. You can stay on the couch or you can leave and come back tomorrow. Whatever you decide, be quiet and lock the door." Owen told John as he reached his bedroom door. He could feel the other man's eyes on his back but didn't say anything else; he just removed his towel throwing it in the direction of the kitchen and the washing basket before entering his room and shutting the door behind him.
He smirked to himself as he climbed into his bed, he wouldn't be surprised if John was still there when he woke in the morning. If the other man wanted Owen to make good on his bet then he would have to work for it, a night on Owen's uncomfortable couch seemed like a reasonable payment for a night in Owen's bed. He wondered if John would ever figure out that he'd been played, that Owen had lured him in.