Owen paused at the door that lead to the Torchwood garage and patted his pockets.
'Mobile, wallet, keys-brilliant. I'm good to go,' he thought.
It was Thursday evening, the unofficial start of the weekend for the University set. Not that he was one of them anymore, but he could still party like he was. A night of drinking and socializing stretched before him, and after the week he'd had, he deserved it.
'Weevils crawling out of the bloody woodwork. Suzie getting her knickers in a knot over something I didn't even say (well, I did say it but I didn't mean it). The boss spending more time "training" the new bloke than he did the rest of us put together and leaving us to deal with the day-to-day shit. And to top it off, us pretending to believe that rubbish line that Jack hired the kid for his Torchwood London experience when we know Jack doesn't give a flying fuck about London and it's a whole different "experience" he's after. Fuck 'em. Fuck 'em all."
Yeah, Owen really needed this evening. He'd just swing by his flat, grab a quick shower, and be at his favorite club in time for the first drink special of the night.
He pushed open the steel door and nearly hit his boss with it.
"What the fuck, Jack-"
"Shh!" Jack grabbed Owen by the arm, yanked him out, and pushed him against the wall. The door fell closed beside them, silent on well-oiled hinges.
Adrenaline kicked in, sending all of Owen's senses on high alert. He reached for his weapon while his eyes scanned the area in front of him. "Where-" he whispered, then trailed off when he realized that there was no immediate danger. Jack was merely watching something. So Owen watched too.
The new bloke, Jones (his first name was Iolo or Ianto, some Welsh nonsense that Owen could never remember) was crouched in the middle of the garage, tugging at an industrial hose that was caught on something.
Suddenly, the hose came loose and the young man fell back. Water sprang from half a dozen tiny holes, sending spray arcing in all directions, including a generous amount on the young man's face. He muttered something under his breath, righted himself, and wiped water out of his eyes. Then he stood and gamely wrestled the leaky hose over to where the Team's Range Rover waited.
Their latest adventure had been a messy one and vehicle was coated end-to-end with an array of grisly substances. There was noxious black mud the consistency of wet cement, and bits of gooey gray tentacle from the giant squid-like creature that had exploded when they tried to remove it from the Bay. An alarming amount of Jack's own blood, shed when the creature bit him, completed the grisly palate.
To the young man's credit, he didn't flinch from the state of the SUV; he merely hoisted the hose and directed the spray at the worst of it. And not for the first time, Owen observed, if the copious amounts of water dripping off both vehicle and man were any indication. The squelch of his trainers was audible from where Owen stood.
When he deemed the car was sufficiently soaked, Jones exchanged the hose for a bucket that contained some sudsy liquid, dipped a brush into it, and began scrubbing away.
"He's diligent, I'll give him that," Owen observed, turning to Jack. "But why are you hiding back-"
"Shh!" Jack ordered again, and pointed. Owen looked again, and his eyes went wide.
Jones had bent over and stretched to his full length in order to reach every inch of the windshield. As he did so, his white t-shirt rode up, revealing about two inches of creamy skin, and his sodden cargo shorts stretched across his behind, outlining one of the finest arses Owen had ever seen. Like the rest of the young man, it was fit, but just rounded enough to fill out the shorts nicely.
"Ohh," Owen breathed, realizing that the reason their Captain was skulking about like a proverbial pervert in the bushes was because he wasa pervert in the bushes. Well, the shadows. And now Owen was one too.
Jones went up his tiptoes, legs spread for balance, and Jack made a little noise of want deep in his throat.
"Jack," Owen said, not taking his eyes off the view, "Please tell me that you're not thinking of bending that kid over the bonnet and having your way with him."
"O.K. I am not thinking of bending that kid over the bonnet and having my way with him."
Jones came back down, rinsed the sponge in the bucket, and then started scrubbing said bonnet, his strong hands making firm, determined circles that the mess on the chrome would not stand against for long.
Owen took a deep, shaky breath. "Yeah. Me neither."
Twenty-five minutes later, after Jones had to adjust his clothing three times, the SUV was a thing of shining beauty and Owen had added "a furious wank" to his mental list of things to do before his night out on the town.
Jones turned off the water and coiled the hose neatly, then scooped up the bucket and headed for a utility cabinet around the corner, affording his audience a good look at how well his clingy, translucent t-shirt outlined the muscles of his back.
Owen opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say died on his lips when Jones reappeared and headed right for them.
"She's all set, Sir," he reported as he drew near. "Clean inside and out and fit for duty."
When no response was forthcoming, he paused, a look of consternation flickering over his face as his eyes went from Jack to Owen and back again.
"Christ, he's eager to please," Owen realized. "What a noob."
The young man's gaze followed theirs and moved down to his clothes. He flushed. "I apologize for my waterlogged state. I must look a sight."
"Got that right," Owen thought, realizing only now that his mouth was hanging open. He shut it with a snap.
"Not to worry, Ianto," Jack said, finding his own voice. "You still look much better than Owen here on his best day." He smiled in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring, but had too many teeth in it.
Ianto didn't seem to notice. His pained expression eased a little. "Thank you, Sir. You're very kind, but if it's all the same to you, I think I'll get changed before I start my inventory of the contents of the kitchen."
Jack managed a short, professional nod.
'Probably taking all he's got not to offer to rip those wet things right off the kid,' Owen noted. Not that he was feeling any such impulses himself. Not at all.
Ianto started past them to the door, then paused again. ""By the way, that hose, if you'll excuse my saying so, Sir, is well past its prime. I'd be happy to look into replacing it for you."
"Fine, Ianto. You do that," Jack said.
"Consider it done," Ianto said, with a small smile, before opening the door. "Owen," he acknowledged as he passed the medic, and went inside.
The door snapped shut, breaking Owen out of his trance. He blinked, then turned to look at Jack.
"So. Jack. When were you planning to tell him that we have a long-standing account with a 24-hour car wash? That will come pick up the vehicle if need be?
"Huh? Oh, that. Soon. Very soon."
"Mischievous blue eyes met Owen's brown ones, and they burst out laughing.
"Like hell you were."