![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mxcatmoon posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
vocab_drabblesTitle: Contemplating Rocks
Fandom: Torchwood
Author: Cat Moon
Rating: PG-13 (mention of sex)
Words: 336
Characters: Owen, Jack
Summary: Owen contemplates his existence as the unalive
Notes: Do they say 'lose your shirt' in the UK? Hopefully, because it was too perfect a line to not use it.
It was three a.m. on a weekday, and the city was silent and empty. Owen Harper stood staring out over the bay. He'd walked the streets for hours and unsurprisingly ended back on the Quay. He considered going inside the Hub and tinkering with something, but the prospect of possibly walking in on Jack and Ianto was enough to keep him outside.
Owen didn't sleep anymore. Jack supposedly didn't need much sleep, but at least he could still fuck.
Could you have an existential crisis when you weren't alive? True, he did exist, but so do rocks, and you don't see them contemplating their reality.
I think, therefore, I am?
He'd never paid attention in philosophy class at university; didn't care much for all that contemplation of intangible concepts. Instead, he preferred doing something.
Ironic; now, all those things Owen loved to do were lost to him. Drinking, eating, making love. The things that mean the most to humans were lost to him.
He couldn't feel physically, but he still had feelings. Yeah, he never liked them much, either. So now he was stuck with only them for company.
He could love, but who could love him, a man who wasn't a man? A walking corpse?
It seemed like all he had left was philosophy.
The swish of a familiar coat announced Jack before he appeared at Owen's side. "Saw you on the CCTV."
"Yeah, got bored, took a walk."
"It can get boring in the middle of the night," Jack agreed. "Thought you might be interested in a few hands of poker?"
"What, you and Teaboy not busy doing the nasty?" he asked suspiciously.
"He's sleeping."
"As long as we're playing for money," Owen told him. "None of that 'just for fun' bollocks."
"As long as you don't mind losing your shirt!" Jack challenged as they walked back to the Hub together.
"As long as it's not strip poker!"
It was an odd new existence, and it wasn't exactly living, but it was a life.
The end
Fandom: Torchwood
Author: Cat Moon
Rating: PG-13 (mention of sex)
Words: 336
Characters: Owen, Jack
Summary: Owen contemplates his existence as the unalive
Notes: Do they say 'lose your shirt' in the UK? Hopefully, because it was too perfect a line to not use it.
It was three a.m. on a weekday, and the city was silent and empty. Owen Harper stood staring out over the bay. He'd walked the streets for hours and unsurprisingly ended back on the Quay. He considered going inside the Hub and tinkering with something, but the prospect of possibly walking in on Jack and Ianto was enough to keep him outside.
Owen didn't sleep anymore. Jack supposedly didn't need much sleep, but at least he could still fuck.
Could you have an existential crisis when you weren't alive? True, he did exist, but so do rocks, and you don't see them contemplating their reality.
I think, therefore, I am?
He'd never paid attention in philosophy class at university; didn't care much for all that contemplation of intangible concepts. Instead, he preferred doing something.
Ironic; now, all those things Owen loved to do were lost to him. Drinking, eating, making love. The things that mean the most to humans were lost to him.
He couldn't feel physically, but he still had feelings. Yeah, he never liked them much, either. So now he was stuck with only them for company.
He could love, but who could love him, a man who wasn't a man? A walking corpse?
It seemed like all he had left was philosophy.
The swish of a familiar coat announced Jack before he appeared at Owen's side. "Saw you on the CCTV."
"Yeah, got bored, took a walk."
"It can get boring in the middle of the night," Jack agreed. "Thought you might be interested in a few hands of poker?"
"What, you and Teaboy not busy doing the nasty?" he asked suspiciously.
"He's sleeping."
"As long as we're playing for money," Owen told him. "None of that 'just for fun' bollocks."
"As long as you don't mind losing your shirt!" Jack challenged as they walked back to the Hub together.
"As long as it's not strip poker!"
It was an odd new existence, and it wasn't exactly living, but it was a life.
The end
