Gwen opens her eyes to a dark room and Owen's back to hers.
It's an unusual way to sleep, she thinks to herself. Since the shirt she had 'borrowed' had been left stranded on the other side of the bedroom, the only things she can feel are the bedcovers and the length of his spine lined up with hers.
She sits up, holding a sheet over her chest. She looks around until her eyes find a clock.
She briefly entertains the idea of staying, but her rational brain has other plans. She rises, taking her makeshift cover with her and switching on a lamp beside the bed.
She doesn't bother trying to sneak out—she hadn't had to in so long that she'd probably lost her touch. And Owen wouldn't care either way.
Owen stirs. "What's up?" he whispers.
"Gonna go home," she tells him, bending over to grab her jeans.
Owen groans and stretches and groans again, "What's the time?"
"Almost three." She locates her shirt, her bra. "Have you seen my pants?"
"What?" he mutters, rubbing his eyes and sitting up in bed.
"My pants!" she huffs, "I can't find my bloody pants!"
Owen rolls his eyes, and throws a hand toward the other side of the room. "Over by the wardrobe."
She looks at him as he rubs at one of his eyes, the quickly turns away and heads in the direction he'd indicated.
As she sees them, she decides it'd be quicker to just lose the sheet and get dressed there.
She doesn't ignore Owen's eyes on her as she does, but she also doesn't acknowledge him.
She finishes pulling on her clothes and straightens up, finding Owen still watching her. She can't read his expression. She walks back to the bed, stopping next to him.
"See you later?" she asks.
"I suppose," Owen says, pauses, then continues, "Are we gonna do this again?"
She hadn't really thought about it, not really. She had actually been trying not to think about it. Too many things to consider.
So she says, "I don't know." Because she doesn't.
He nods, "Okay."
She leans in closer, locks eyes and whispers, "Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?"
He doesn't answer, instead pulling her in with a hand around the back of her neck.
The kiss is a flash of fury, with almost no tenderness. Almost.
His hand loosens as her lips soften, and she lets them.
And then they're apart and she's heading for the door.
A/N: TORCHWOOD FEELS. Basically just Doctor Who with a lot more kissing (and sex, definitely sex).
This takes places immediately following the end of 'Countrycide.' Owen/Gwen started out as a good ship, but as the season progresses I'm getting more and more irritated with the both of them—but especially Owen. He's a total manwhore. And yes, I realize that was established from the beginning, but still. Urgh. Stahp. And then I found out what happens at the end of season two…so this ship is turning out to be very short-lived. Oh, well. I like this, before it all goes wrong. I'll still have Jack/Ianto (and yes, I know, let me enjoy it while I can).
Can I just repeat—TORCHWOOD FEELS.