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Title: "Anger Management"
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Notes/Summary: I ended up writing two stories for the "Deadly Sin" prompt over at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writerinadrawer. This is the one I submitted.
Shameless Plug: As always, I encourage everyone to check outwriterinadrawer. Please read and vote! As of the last elimination only nine of us remained. Stories usually go up Friday afternoon, and voting typically runs until 4 PM Central Time (-6 GMT) on Sunday. Check the community for details. This week's prompt is "Two Points of View" with the added feature that each story must include soap. Lots of things you can do with soap, and lots of things you shouldn't...
The angry bark of gunshots rang out, one after another, until nothing remained but the click of an empty chamber and a fine red mist in the air.
“Jesus Christ, Harkness! What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Taking out my aggression on an appropriate target. What does it look like, Owen?”
“It looks like Ianto’s going to fucking murder you is what it looks like. Have you seen yourself?”
Jack picked up a second pistol up from the pile. He pumped round after round into a new victim without regard for the way the first shot alone created an angry, splattered ruin. When he ran out of bullets, Jack hurled the handgun at the remains of the watermelon.
“Feel better?” Owen asked, crossing his arms and surveying the destruction.
“Not really.” Jack spat.
“Well, no wonder. You’re doing it wrong.”
Jack’s head jerked up. “Excuse me?”
“Watermelons. Yeah, sure, they explode. They make a nice sound when you shoot them. That’s fine. But it’s not really satisfying, is it?” Owen asked in his best I-know-something-you-don’t-know voice.
“So what do you suggest?”
Owen turned and walked over to the tool closet. He knew they had one. He was positive, in fact. He remembered bringing it in himself.
“Aha! Here we go.” He picked it up, carried it over, and presented it to Jack. He watched the captain take it, a look of utter mystification on his face.
“A sledgehammer?”
“Yeah. Go on. Try it.”
Jack approached one of the remaining watermelons, his uncertainty plain. He gave the melon a doubtful look before bringing the hammer down hard. The rind splintered under the blow with a satisfying thunk, and red, pulpy juice flew out in every direction. Jack scrabbled back on the slick floor and then landed hard on his ass with a yelp before lighting up in peals of laughter.
“Now do you feel better?” Owen asked, a look of smug bemusement in his eyes.
“How did you even come up with this?” Jack asked, wiping tears and watermelon mush from his eyes.
“Unlike some people, I dimly remember the eighties. Now come on. Let’s get this hosed down before the teaboy notices, eh?”
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Notes/Summary: I ended up writing two stories for the "Deadly Sin" prompt over at
writerinadrawer. This is the one I submitted.Shameless Plug: As always, I encourage everyone to check out
writerinadrawer. Please read and vote! As of the last elimination only nine of us remained. Stories usually go up Friday afternoon, and voting typically runs until 4 PM Central Time (-6 GMT) on Sunday. Check the community for details. This week's prompt is "Two Points of View" with the added feature that each story must include soap. Lots of things you can do with soap, and lots of things you shouldn't...The angry bark of gunshots rang out, one after another, until nothing remained but the click of an empty chamber and a fine red mist in the air.
“Jesus Christ, Harkness! What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Taking out my aggression on an appropriate target. What does it look like, Owen?”
“It looks like Ianto’s going to fucking murder you is what it looks like. Have you seen yourself?”
Jack picked up a second pistol up from the pile. He pumped round after round into a new victim without regard for the way the first shot alone created an angry, splattered ruin. When he ran out of bullets, Jack hurled the handgun at the remains of the watermelon.
“Feel better?” Owen asked, crossing his arms and surveying the destruction.
“Not really.” Jack spat.
“Well, no wonder. You’re doing it wrong.”
Jack’s head jerked up. “Excuse me?”
“Watermelons. Yeah, sure, they explode. They make a nice sound when you shoot them. That’s fine. But it’s not really satisfying, is it?” Owen asked in his best I-know-something-you-don’t-know voice.
“So what do you suggest?”
Owen turned and walked over to the tool closet. He knew they had one. He was positive, in fact. He remembered bringing it in himself.
“Aha! Here we go.” He picked it up, carried it over, and presented it to Jack. He watched the captain take it, a look of utter mystification on his face.
“A sledgehammer?”
“Yeah. Go on. Try it.”
Jack approached one of the remaining watermelons, his uncertainty plain. He gave the melon a doubtful look before bringing the hammer down hard. The rind splintered under the blow with a satisfying thunk, and red, pulpy juice flew out in every direction. Jack scrabbled back on the slick floor and then landed hard on his ass with a yelp before lighting up in peals of laughter.
“Now do you feel better?” Owen asked, a look of smug bemusement in his eyes.
“How did you even come up with this?” Jack asked, wiping tears and watermelon mush from his eyes.
“Unlike some people, I dimly remember the eighties. Now come on. Let’s get this hosed down before the teaboy notices, eh?”
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