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fandomweekly2024-05-03 07:26 pm
badly_knitted) wrote in fandomweekly2024-05-03 07:26 pm
Entry tags:
[#219] Stress Overload (Torchwood)
Theme Prompt: #219 – Stress
Title: Stress Overload
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Working for Torchwood is a stressful business, but right now the team’s stress levels are through the roof.
Having to save the world, or at least Cardiff, from invading aliens, dangerous tech, the resident Weevil population, and other Rift-related threats on a semi-regular basis was a stressful occupation. In the past, the Torchwood Three team had each dealt with the stress of their jobs in their own fashion: Owen by drinking too much and sleeping around, Tosh by burying herself in the logical and predictable world of computer code, Gwen by going home to cry on Rhys’ shoulder and watch trashy TV shows, and Jack and Ianto by Weevil hunting and shagging each other’s brains out. Different strokes for different folks, as the saying went.
Stress didn’t only come from their jobs, however. Sometimes, their usual source of comfort became a source of stress. Right now, Gwen was dealing with bickering between her parents and in-laws, not helped by Rhys taking his mother’s side, which was causing further friction at home.
Tosh’s translation program had developed a peculiar glitch that was translating everything into German, except for a certain dialect of Galactic Standard, which was getting faithfully rendered into Swahili, a language which none of the team could understand. Despite going through the program’s code line-by-line five times, she still hadn’t found what was causing the problem, and she was about ready to tear her hair out.
Owen had decided to cut down on drinking, which was making him even more bad-tempered than usual, and Ianto, having agreed to let his sister and her family live at his house while repairs were carried out on their own, had run away from home when his houseguests became too much to deal with. He was living in Jack’s bunker now, and fully intended to stay there until Rhiannon and Johnny moved out. He’d developed a haunted look, and he flinched every time his phone rang, knowing it would probably be Rhi, wanting to know where he was, or what to do about the latest disaster her husband had caused.
Jack seemed to be the only member of the team who wasn’t stressed. He had a warm Ianto to snuggle with every night, even if Ianto was unusually twitchy and restless, and coffee whenever he wanted it.
What everyone really needed was some downtime and the space to sort out their current issues. What they were getting instead was an overactive Rift, spitting random items out at all hours of the day and night, meaning that on top of everything else, nobody was getting enough sleep, except for Jack, who didn’t need much anyway.
Things couldn’t carry on the way they were, but how could any of them deal with the stress they were under when just finding the time to grab a bite to eat was proving difficult enough? People could only exist for so long on hastily re-heated slices of pizza. Owen had even suggested starting his teammates on anti-anxiety meds. Another week or two, and Jack thought he might be tempted to take the medic up on the idea, if only so that Ianto’s nightmares might go away. He’d lost count of how many times he’d been shoved out of bed over the last three weeks due to his lover’s flailing.
The two women were better at disguising their bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes than Owen and Ianto, but they were all suffering, and Jack, although not overly stressed himself, was at a loss over how to help them. He was already doing as many of the Rift retrievals as he could, especially at night, but he couldn’t be everywhere at once. He considered bringing in a couple of new field agents, but that might add to the problem instead of solving is, because new recruits would require training and supervision, and he doubted any of his team had the patience for that, never mind the time.
“What are we gonna do?” Ianto mumbled into Jack’s bare shoulder somewhere around midnight, when they’d finally fallen into bed after rounding up a couple of rambunctious adolescent Weevils. “The team’s falling apart. It wasn’t even this bad when you were gone with the Doctor. I caught Tosh sobbing into her keyboard earlier. Owen’s broken so much equipment in the last week we might have to take the cost of replacing it all out of his wages, and Gwen practically lost her voice screaming at Rhys over the phone. I feel sorry for him. All he did was ask if she’d be home for dinner. Never seen her face turn that colour before. I thought she was going to burst a blood vessel.”
Jack knew what Ianto meant; he’d seen Gwen blush before, her cheeks flushing red with embarrassment, but puce really wasn’t her colour.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I wish I did. If the Rift would calm down, everyone might be able to deal with their other issues, but we’re barely getting a chance to catch our breath between alerts.”
As if in response to his words, the alarms started going off, and Ianto gave a pitiful groan. “Not again! We only just got to bed!”
“You stay put, get some sleep. Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it.” Jack slid out of bed, and Ianto was so worn out he didn’t protest.
Twenty minutes later, Jack manhandled a packing crate into the back of the SUV and drove back to base. Ianto appeared as he was dragging it into the main Hub.
“What is it this time?” he asked wearily. “Not something else I need to take care of, I hope.”
Jack smiled, prising the crate open. “Just the opposite, Maybe the Rift heard us and decided to help out.”
Peering into the crate at the pile of furry things, Ianto frowned. “Are they alive?”
“Not exactly.” Jack plucked one out and passed it to Ianto. It immediately turned bright red. “They’re the alien equivalent of stress balls, except they absorb stress. Just cuddle it until it turns white again.”
Ianto squeezed it against him. He felt more relaxed already.
The End
Stress didn’t only come from their jobs, however. Sometimes, their usual source of comfort became a source of stress. Right now, Gwen was dealing with bickering between her parents and in-laws, not helped by Rhys taking his mother’s side, which was causing further friction at home.
Tosh’s translation program had developed a peculiar glitch that was translating everything into German, except for a certain dialect of Galactic Standard, which was getting faithfully rendered into Swahili, a language which none of the team could understand. Despite going through the program’s code line-by-line five times, she still hadn’t found what was causing the problem, and she was about ready to tear her hair out.
Owen had decided to cut down on drinking, which was making him even more bad-tempered than usual, and Ianto, having agreed to let his sister and her family live at his house while repairs were carried out on their own, had run away from home when his houseguests became too much to deal with. He was living in Jack’s bunker now, and fully intended to stay there until Rhiannon and Johnny moved out. He’d developed a haunted look, and he flinched every time his phone rang, knowing it would probably be Rhi, wanting to know where he was, or what to do about the latest disaster her husband had caused.
Jack seemed to be the only member of the team who wasn’t stressed. He had a warm Ianto to snuggle with every night, even if Ianto was unusually twitchy and restless, and coffee whenever he wanted it.
What everyone really needed was some downtime and the space to sort out their current issues. What they were getting instead was an overactive Rift, spitting random items out at all hours of the day and night, meaning that on top of everything else, nobody was getting enough sleep, except for Jack, who didn’t need much anyway.
Things couldn’t carry on the way they were, but how could any of them deal with the stress they were under when just finding the time to grab a bite to eat was proving difficult enough? People could only exist for so long on hastily re-heated slices of pizza. Owen had even suggested starting his teammates on anti-anxiety meds. Another week or two, and Jack thought he might be tempted to take the medic up on the idea, if only so that Ianto’s nightmares might go away. He’d lost count of how many times he’d been shoved out of bed over the last three weeks due to his lover’s flailing.
The two women were better at disguising their bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes than Owen and Ianto, but they were all suffering, and Jack, although not overly stressed himself, was at a loss over how to help them. He was already doing as many of the Rift retrievals as he could, especially at night, but he couldn’t be everywhere at once. He considered bringing in a couple of new field agents, but that might add to the problem instead of solving is, because new recruits would require training and supervision, and he doubted any of his team had the patience for that, never mind the time.
“What are we gonna do?” Ianto mumbled into Jack’s bare shoulder somewhere around midnight, when they’d finally fallen into bed after rounding up a couple of rambunctious adolescent Weevils. “The team’s falling apart. It wasn’t even this bad when you were gone with the Doctor. I caught Tosh sobbing into her keyboard earlier. Owen’s broken so much equipment in the last week we might have to take the cost of replacing it all out of his wages, and Gwen practically lost her voice screaming at Rhys over the phone. I feel sorry for him. All he did was ask if she’d be home for dinner. Never seen her face turn that colour before. I thought she was going to burst a blood vessel.”
Jack knew what Ianto meant; he’d seen Gwen blush before, her cheeks flushing red with embarrassment, but puce really wasn’t her colour.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I wish I did. If the Rift would calm down, everyone might be able to deal with their other issues, but we’re barely getting a chance to catch our breath between alerts.”
As if in response to his words, the alarms started going off, and Ianto gave a pitiful groan. “Not again! We only just got to bed!”
“You stay put, get some sleep. Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it.” Jack slid out of bed, and Ianto was so worn out he didn’t protest.
Twenty minutes later, Jack manhandled a packing crate into the back of the SUV and drove back to base. Ianto appeared as he was dragging it into the main Hub.
“What is it this time?” he asked wearily. “Not something else I need to take care of, I hope.”
Jack smiled, prising the crate open. “Just the opposite, Maybe the Rift heard us and decided to help out.”
Peering into the crate at the pile of furry things, Ianto frowned. “Are they alive?”
“Not exactly.” Jack plucked one out and passed it to Ianto. It immediately turned bright red. “They’re the alien equivalent of stress balls, except they absorb stress. Just cuddle it until it turns white again.”
Ianto squeezed it against him. He felt more relaxed already.
The End
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