Title: Reasons To Run
Fandom: Torchwood
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Owen, Ianto, Tosh, Jack, Gwen.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 860
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Chasing aliens around Cardiff for several hours has given Tosh a brilliant idea.
Content Notes: None needed.
Written For: Challenge 416: Marathon.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.



“How long were we out there chasing those stupid things?” Owen asked, collapsing into the chair at his workstation because that was closer than the tattered but marginally more comfortable sofa under the Torchwood sign.

Ianto glanced at his wristwatch as he made his way towards the kitchenette to brew a restorative round of coffees. “Four and a half hours, give or take. Not bad, considering all the sudden changes of direction and how many aliens we had to round up.”

“Not bad? I feel like I’ve run a bloody marathon!”

Tosh, who’d sensibly exchanged her heels for sneakers before the team left the Hub, settled onto one end of the sofa, taking her phone out of her pocket and pulling up a programme.

“No, we only did around eight miles, I have a programme that measures distance travelled. A full marathon is a little over twenty-six miles, and we didn’t even run half that.”

Owen scowled. “Nitpicker! My feet are killing me. That was worse than chasing a bunch of Weevils!”

Jack wandered in from the garage, grinning. “I thought it was fun.”

“You would.” Owen shot Jack a disgusted look. “You’re a bloody sadist.”

“Me? I was running just as much as the rest of you. It’s not my fault you’re so unfit.”

“I’m a doctor, not a bloody animal catcher!”

“You’re a Torchwood agent,” Jack corrected. “That means you do whatever I tell you to do. We needed all hands out there today.”

“Yeah? So how come Gwen got sit it out following us in the SUV?”

“We needed somewhere to put the aliens as we caught them, and you’re the one who said Gwen should keep off her feet until her ankle heals.” Ironically, she’d twisted it the day before when she’d slipped on a wet floor in the supermarket while doing her weekly shop.

“So where is she now?”

Jack shrugged. “On the phone to Rhys. So…” He looked around at his team expectantly. “Who’s going to help me carry five boxes of scuttling red and black fuzzy things down to the cells?”

“Not me,” Owen said firmly. “If I stand up, my legs might fall off.”

“That happened to me once, but there was a laser involved. Sliced both legs off just above the knee. Luckily the laser cauterised the wounds so I didn’t bleed out while I was sticking them back where they belong.”

Ianto came out of the kitchenette, his tray laden with five coffees and a large plate of assorted biscuits. “I’ll help you in a bit, but I want my coffee first.”

“Fair enough.” Jack went to join Tosh on the sofa. “They’re not going anywhere; they can wait another ten minutes.”

Carrying the tray over to the sofa, Ianto set it down on the coffee table before taking Owen his coffee.

“Don’t I get any biscuits?”

Rolling his eyes, Ianto fetched the plate, which was already half empty, courtesy of Jack who had three biscuits in each hand and another already in his mouth.

“Here.” He thrust the plate at Owen. “What did your last servant die of?”

Owen just smirked. “Ta,” he said, taking four biscuits and plonking them on top of the pile of unfinished reports on his desk.

“You’d better clean up the crumbs.”

“Whatever.”

Ianto returned to the sofa just as Gwen came limping in from the garage.

“Oooh, coffee! Thanks, Ianto.”

“I live to serve, apparently,” Ianto told her dryly, settling between Jack and Tosh on the sofa and picking up his mug.

Tosh was still studying something on her phone as she reached blindly for the biscuit plate, taking one and biting into it. “We should do it. I mean, we could, I think. Except maybe Owen. We three could anyway.” Tosh turned to Jack and Ianto. “We’d have to do some training, of course.”

“Of course,” Jack agreed. “Training for what?”

Somehow, Ianto seemed to get what Tosh was talking about, proving once again that he knew everything. “The Cardiff half-marathon. It’s at the beginning of October, so we wouldn’t have much time for training, but it’s for a good cause.”

“The NSPCC,” Tosh agreed.

“I’m in.” Jack beamed at Ianto and Tosh. “We could run as a team.”

“What about me?” Gwen looked at her colleagues.

“Up to you,” Jack told her. “But you won’t be able to train until your ankle’s healed.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Gwen sighed. “Oh well, maybe next year. I can be your cheerleader this time out. What about you, Owen?”

“Count me out. It’s one thing chasing aliens, I get paid to do that, but it’s not my idea of fun.”

“Wimp,” Gwen accused, sipping her coffee.

“So, do I sign us up?” Tosh looked at Ianto, then Jack.

“Why not? I’ve done the 10k a few times now, reckon I can double that with a bit of training. Jack?”

“Already said I’m in.” Jack winked at his lover. “I’ll run right behind you and enjoy the view.”

Ianto snorted. “Typical.”

“This is going to be brilliant!” Grabbing her coffee cup and another biscuit, Tosh headed for her computer to sign the three of them up.


The End