Title: Blow What?
Author:![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
giorgiakerr
Fandom: AWZ/Torchwood crossover
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Celine/Blowfish, Marc Häagen-Dazs/Captain Jack Harkness
Rating: Er… PG? *looks at title* It’s not as dirty as it sounds…
Warnings: Shameless, cracky fanwank.
Length/Word Count: 500. Spot on 500. With no editing. Well that’s oddly convenient.
Summary: Essen had experienced some odd things, but this? This was totally incomprehensible.
Notes: IDEK. For those of you who don’t know Torchwood: Captain Jack, Blowfish. …I can’t believe I actually wrote this. *facepalm of shame*
Disclaimer: I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS. I’M NOT EVEN CLAIMING RESPONSIBILITY FOR THIS STORY.
--
Marc looked up from his computer screen as he heard the door to the Hub swinging open, hands leaving the keyboard and hovering over the gun on the desk next to him. Essen may be small, but it had had an unnatural amount of violence and strange occurrences – literally.
He’d been more than amused when everyone congratulated Oliver for curing the Virus. A convenient trial-drug? He snorted at the memory. Yeah, right. No one had even bothered checking the sewer tunnels where he and Jack had released the gaseous cure. Unfortunately, there had been one casualty – no one was supposed to be in the sewers, but someone had been. Overexposure to the gas could cause serious damage to the frontal lobe, inhibiting self-control and altering normal emotive responses. They’d narrowed it down to the Steinkamp residence since then, but they were having a hard time isolating the individual.
But this wasn’t the news that was bellowed excitedly at him from the entry-way, the voice getting louder as Jack bounced down the ramp that lead to the main area, coat billowing in his wake. Marc stood up when he saw Jack, gun totally forgotten.
“We’ve got ourselves a Blowfish!” Jack announced as he approached Marc. Marc just raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, mildly amused. Jack’s eyebrow rose in challenge and he adopted the same stance. “At the bar,” he said after a long pause, uncrossing his arms and spinning back towards the door that would let them out through the halfpipe entrance. Marc grinned, quickly grabbing the gun and fixing it expertly to his hip. He took a few fast steps forward, catching up with Jack and shoving him against the doorway, hard. Jack had been gone all night, leaving Marc alone with the security footage from the locker-rooms at the Centre, and he’d now been waiting for this for hours.
He leaned forward and Jack smirked, pulling his head back at the last second. Marc almost growled when Jack chuckled at him. “We have to hurry. It seems the Blowfish has made a friend,” he said amusedly, and Marc’s curiosity won out. He shifted his weight off Jack just a little.
“At the bar?” he asked skeptically.
“Eh, some blonde cook,” Jack replied absentmindedly as if he couldn’t care less. Marc was shocked.
“Celine?” He was incredulous, now. What would Celine want with a Blowfish? Or, more importantly, what would a Blowfish want with Celine? Might it, he wondered suddenly, have something to do with the strange, unidentifiable energy that Maximilian seemed to imbue his lovers with? Might that attract aliens? Or was it Fish-specific? He felt himself frown in consideration, his curiosity only broken when Jack reached between them and fingered Marc’s gun deliberately, fingers brushing across the front of his slacks just as deliberately as he pulled away and made for the door with a smirk. Marc could only follow, grinning, shaking his head, ignoring many bad “blowfish” puns.
He was in for an interesting night.
Author:
giorgiakerr Fandom: AWZ/Torchwood crossover
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Celine/Blowfish, Marc Häagen-Dazs/Captain Jack Harkness
Rating: Er… PG? *looks at title* It’s not as dirty as it sounds…
Length/Word Count: 500. Spot on 500. With no editing. Well that’s oddly convenient.
Summary: Essen had experienced some odd things, but this? This was totally incomprehensible.
Notes: IDEK. For those of you who don’t know Torchwood: Captain Jack, Blowfish. …I can’t believe I actually wrote this. *facepalm of shame*
Disclaimer: I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS. I’M NOT EVEN CLAIMING RESPONSIBILITY FOR THIS STORY.
--
Marc looked up from his computer screen as he heard the door to the Hub swinging open, hands leaving the keyboard and hovering over the gun on the desk next to him. Essen may be small, but it had had an unnatural amount of violence and strange occurrences – literally.
He’d been more than amused when everyone congratulated Oliver for curing the Virus. A convenient trial-drug? He snorted at the memory. Yeah, right. No one had even bothered checking the sewer tunnels where he and Jack had released the gaseous cure. Unfortunately, there had been one casualty – no one was supposed to be in the sewers, but someone had been. Overexposure to the gas could cause serious damage to the frontal lobe, inhibiting self-control and altering normal emotive responses. They’d narrowed it down to the Steinkamp residence since then, but they were having a hard time isolating the individual.
But this wasn’t the news that was bellowed excitedly at him from the entry-way, the voice getting louder as Jack bounced down the ramp that lead to the main area, coat billowing in his wake. Marc stood up when he saw Jack, gun totally forgotten.
“We’ve got ourselves a Blowfish!” Jack announced as he approached Marc. Marc just raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, mildly amused. Jack’s eyebrow rose in challenge and he adopted the same stance. “At the bar,” he said after a long pause, uncrossing his arms and spinning back towards the door that would let them out through the halfpipe entrance. Marc grinned, quickly grabbing the gun and fixing it expertly to his hip. He took a few fast steps forward, catching up with Jack and shoving him against the doorway, hard. Jack had been gone all night, leaving Marc alone with the security footage from the locker-rooms at the Centre, and he’d now been waiting for this for hours.
He leaned forward and Jack smirked, pulling his head back at the last second. Marc almost growled when Jack chuckled at him. “We have to hurry. It seems the Blowfish has made a friend,” he said amusedly, and Marc’s curiosity won out. He shifted his weight off Jack just a little.
“At the bar?” he asked skeptically.
“Eh, some blonde cook,” Jack replied absentmindedly as if he couldn’t care less. Marc was shocked.
“Celine?” He was incredulous, now. What would Celine want with a Blowfish? Or, more importantly, what would a Blowfish want with Celine? Might it, he wondered suddenly, have something to do with the strange, unidentifiable energy that Maximilian seemed to imbue his lovers with? Might that attract aliens? Or was it Fish-specific? He felt himself frown in consideration, his curiosity only broken when Jack reached between them and fingered Marc’s gun deliberately, fingers brushing across the front of his slacks just as deliberately as he pulled away and made for the door with a smirk. Marc could only follow, grinning, shaking his head, ignoring many bad “blowfish” puns.
He was in for an interesting night.
Current Mood: embarrassed
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