Torchwood: real!Jack/John Hart
Rating: R to NC-17 hopefully
Genre: I'll leave that to you
Prompt: "“I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me.” - Hunter S. Thompson
"What's this called again?" he asked after the waitress left. He supposed he'd call a four-armed antennae-bearing being who served crazy cocktails a waitress.
Maybe he'd hallucinated the past month but it beat the alternative.
"Blue Coma", said his companion as he clutched his own and tipped a toast. Now that was growing familiar, along with the possessive fingers kneading his thigh.
"Damn," Jack said. "Nice."
"So are you," John Hart whispered, breath hot at his ear. "I didn't bail your ass from a plummeting plane just to buy you drinks."
"Guess that makes it my round," Jack answered.
Torchwood, Toshiko/Owen. :D Any rating, any prompt.
Owen sensed Tosh fluttering behind him in the med bay again. Interrupting him again.
"What?" he asked.
"Owen, what are you wearing?"
"Aren't you supposed to save that as an opener for phone sex, Tosh?" Owen deadpanned, and Tosh whacked his shoulder with a balled fist.
"No, I mean, your cologne."
Owen rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Not a thing. Well, just a random aftershave."
"Oh," she replied, looking away.
"What now?" Owen asked. "Something wrong?"
"No," she said sweetly. "Just imagining you saying 'not a thing' after I'd asked you what you were wearing... over the phone."
Owen nodded absently, then turned as she walked away. "Wait. What?"
Characters/Pairings you want: either Tosh/Castiel or Tosh/Dean.
Rating - up to you
Prompt - it made more sense than some might think.
Genre - romance(ish) A/N: I kind of failed at the romance!
She didn't wake to what she'd expected -- Owen digging out a bullet if she was lucky and nothingness if not. Instead she saw a standup brochure thanking her for hanging up used towels to save the planet.
"Where am I?" Tosh warily asked the stunner with his boots on the hotel bedspread.
"Dropped outta the sky." He took the toothpick out of his mouth, grinned and called out, "Cas, your soulmate's up!"
When he appeared and their eyes met, she remembered the fall. "Grace," she whispered.
"Soon," Castiel nodded. "We have work to do first."
Rating: anything is fine. Prompt: lack of sleep. Genre: Any.
Gwen caught movement at the edge of her sightline; Ianto shifting on the sofa, tucking his arms under him. When he turned again, mumbling, and one arm grazed the floor, she crossed the room.
"What'll we do, Ianto?" She pulled at her beltloops, sighing. Since Jack had fucked off, none of the team slept properly and with the added stress, they left food untouched as well.
She perched by his side and ran cool fingertips over his forehead before pressing her lips to the soft skin there, glad he wasn't awake to see the uncertainty in her eyes.
tish jones/toshiko sato
prompt: an alien artefact that does something beautiful and amazing, shows them the universe can be wonderful
genre: fluffy romance-ish?
"We're not certain what to call this," Toshiko said as she carefully passed the brittle, bowl-shaped object.
"What is it? Tish asked, and Tosh indicated she should hold it to her ear.
"It sounds like voices. Alien music; it's amazing," Tish breathed as she listened and the sounds of seagulls in Cardiff Bay faded.
She'd been treated worse somewhere, sometime, than you back in 1941, Jack had said. Toshiko pressed her ear against the side of the bowl. "A recording device, maybe?" she ventured.
"Strange to wonder about whomever made this and what they'd think of us here on Earth with it, isn't it?" Tish said.
"Maybe it's meant to be here right now, just like we are." Toshiko answered, taking Tish's free hand in hers as they leaned in together to listen.