This one has a high Owen content but don't worry some janto at he end : D I'm not sure about this one either so please tell me what's wrong with it
Disclaimer: don't own them blah blah.
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Owen turned, pulling his bedclothes over him and staring out the large plate glass window into the storm. Desperately trying to sleep he watched the large black raindrops smash against the glass and run down into rivers that wound there way towards his floor, disappearing past the floor.
Suddenly there was a loud crash that illuminated the room momentarily. Owen screamed and jumped up, pulling his bed clothes around him, he had sworn he had seen Ianto reflected in the glass holding a knife and smiling manically, slicing a pale slender finger across his throat. Owen span around but found he was alone in the flat, not wanting to investigate he lay back down and pulled the covers over his head, sleep long forgotten.
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The next day Owen opened the door to the tourist office reluctantly, although he had dismissed what he had seen as a dream it still freak him out.
Entering the office he froze as Ianto looked up and smiled, "Good morning Owen"
"What's up with you Tea boy?" Owen said trying to sound un-fussed but failing as he observed the glint in the young mans eyes.
"Me? Oh nothing" Ianto smiled wide which just added to the creepy atmosphere "Good night?" with this Ianto gave a slight chuckle which caused the doctor to make a sharp exit to the hub.
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It's just your mind playing tricks on you, how could he have gotten into my flat? Its probably just guilt (heaven forbid) you just feel bad and now you have some stupid idea that tea boy wants to kill you, he's far too wimpy to kill you just for a prank (although he did shoot you once…) shut up Owen!
"Coffee?" Owen nearly jumped out of his skin as Iantos voice breathed behind him, the warm air from his breath hitting the back of Owens neck causing the hairs to stick up.
"What?! Oh ok"
"Ok and Owen have you finished that report?" Amusement playing in the Welshman's eyes "I'm dying to read it" With this he turned on his heel leaving the doctor looking stricken with worry.
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Owen took off the headphones and walked over to the target, he had decided to come down to the gun range to escape the hub, he felt as though it was crushing him (nothing to do with Ianto of course)
"Woo five headshots" Owen spun around and the laugh that had frozen in his throat came out as a squeak. "Ianto?" he said cautiously
The Welshman stood next to the table slightly stroking one of the pistols that lay there; he looked up, innocence on his face when he spotted the other man.
"Yes Owen?"
"What are you doing down here?"
"Me? Oh nothing"
"Oh ok" Owen turned back away and picked up the paper target, when he turned back around Ianto was standing just behind him, smiling yet again and the gun from the table in his hand. Seeing Owens glance dart towards the weapon he pulled out a cloth and began to polish it.
Owen ducked around the Welshman and ran towards the door
"Owen where are you going?" Ianto began to follow him smiling as he went.
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Jack wrapped his arms around the Welshman's waist,
"Has he had enough yet?"
Ianto snorted "Not yet, not till he apologizes"
"Cant you let it go, I'm beginning to worry about his err… mental health"
The two men looked down at he doctor who sat in the autopsy bay chewing his nails nervously, his eyes darting around the room in search for the tea boy, his back firmly pressed against the wall as though Ianto might spring out and kill him from behind. Suddenly he rose and began to scurry across the hub.
"I suppose, maybe a bit longer" Ianto gave Jack an evil smile.
"Ianto" Jack put on his best stern voice
Ianto sighed and leant over the railings "Owen! I need a little chat with you" The young medic looked up and blanched, practically sprinting towards the cog door.
"Oh that was mean" Jack shook his head at Ianto who flashed him is best white smile
"And that's why you want me" Ianto walked away and rose one eyebrow over his shoulder.
"Everyone go home early!" Jack shouted as he dashed after him, already in the process of removing his shirt.