#oftorchwood

[the-captains-table]

@oftorchwood

“So, you got me out of Cardiff for the week. How can I help?”

[thegrumpymechanic]

Continued from here x. || @oftorchwood

It’s been about a week or so since that conference and Dr. Lukas Engstrom hasn’t called yet. Not that Harrison was sitting up waiting all the time – he wasn’t ever particularly dedicated to one partner at a time. Not here, on this Earth, where he’s basically the ghost of someone else’s fucked up past. It is a little disappointing, though. He would have liked to explore a few more inches of the foreigner’s body without worrying about getting caught. And perhaps his mind, too, without being pressed for time. 

As it is, he sits at the bar in Saints & Sinners, near the corner furthest from the door. The name of the place always amused him since he has yet to see anyone who would classify as a “Saint” walk in for more than a few seconds. Normally, Lisa, Mick, Len, or occasionally Mark  would come join him, but they were out of town on another job. (The tools for which he had surreptitiously crafted two nights prior.)  His dark beer only gets warmer as he continues to mull over other pointless things, eyes vacant and distant. It’s sometime past eleven last he’d checked, so it was just starting to get busy.

[ifitsalienitsours]

@oftorchwood

lukas @ yvonne: PLZ PUT ON A FUCKING PARKA 

I would, dear, but then my ice cold heart might melt.

[askgwencooper-blog]

ZIP ME

Even More Drabbles - (meme) - @oftorchwood

“ZIP ME” - Your character dressing mine (or the other way around).

Gwen’s thinking she’d rather ask this question with Lukas out of earshot or at least out of her sight but as she leans casually against Camille’s desk and puts on her friendliest smile, he’s lingering near the coffee pot with what she’s been told is his first cup of the day (or, at least, his first since arriving; and, really what’s the difference if he’s still not yet functional enough to lead a team meeting?) It’ll have to be good enough. 

The approach she takes is casual but hesitant so it comes out sounding awkward rather than simply indirect: “So you know I was originally only going to stay for about a week? And, I mean, I’m having the time of my life- that’s not, I just, I mean I’d only packed for a-” 

“You need a tampon?” 

Gwen sees immediately where she went wrong but she can’t say anything in time to stop the younger woman opening a desk drawer that looks like it also contains a homemade explosive. Her eyes are wide in momentary shock- although she really should know better. She’s been with this team long enough to make her deductions and a few assumptions around the things that aren’t already obvious -but she shakes her head as Camille explains how to repurpose a plastic applicator into something far more interesting. 

Gwen’s not really listening but she’s not embarassed anymore either. “I just meant I’d like to go shopping. Washing’s fine but I get tired wearing the same things over and-” 

“And you’ve asked Camille?” 

Not such a quiet, private conversation, then. Although she should have known it from the accent, Greer isn’t who Gwen’s expecting to see when she turns her head and spits out the lame excuse she has ready, “She’s the only other woman here.” 

The ‘Ooh’ that follows comes with a drawn-out emphasis that she’s only heard twice before but her best guess says it translates in this base as ‘Don’t let Seoras hear you.’ Insisting that she’s used everyone’s correct pronouns so far earns her a hushed reminder that avoiding gender stereotypes is, apparently, also a big deal for them. 

This is getting too complicated. There’s no reason she couldn’t have just asked Lukas to drive her to the shops. They haven’t rowed, they’re working together just fine, and, if it came to it, they could survive another night in that miserable hotel room together- no problem. It’s just that there’s something weird between them lately, a kind of tension that makes her hesitant each time they’re alone in a room and she’s loathe to ask him for any favours even though, technically, her well-being is his responsibility for the duration of Torchwood’s silly employee swap. 

“She’s only the first person I asked,” Gwen says finally. That’s not the whole truth but, apparently, it’s good enough as, immediately after work, Greer is ushering her into what appears to be a posh boutique. Camille is along for the ride. Her company, Gwen appreciates. The fact that she predicts this will be ‘hilarious’, not so much. In fact, that’s got Gwen nearly as annoyed as the venue. 

She’s griping that she only needs a pair of jeans, a few tops, and maybe some new trainers. Any department store would have done and been far more affordable. Of course, Torchwood’s agents are paid by the Crown so that protest doesn’t hold much weight but maybe she just needs something to complain about so she can feel normal again. 

“Dress size?” Greer asks. 

“What would I need a dress for?” 

He doesn’t answer but gives her a once-over and walks away without another word. Gwen turns to Camille for help to find her busy texting. “Who’s that?” 

“Ashley.” 

“Ashley?” They only met for a few minutes. Gwen hesitates for no good reason, thinking in a rush about how Ashley and Owen are collaborating on something and that’s why she gets to- or has to, as she told Rhys -stay with the Glasgow team for the rest of the month. 

The fact that Ashley is Lukas’ best friend the way that Gwen is Jack’s crosses her mind as well and, irrationally, she suddenly doesn’t want the other woman to know about this. And why not? It’s a silly little shopping trip with two misguided new friends because she needs a new top and… 

Camille waves away a saleswoman- salesperson; she shouldn’t assume -who seems to have noticed Gwen looking flushed, again, for no reason. There’s a ping from Cami’s phone, different from the tone Ashley’s text had and Gwen can’t help demanding, “Who’s that?” 

“Ricky.” 

“Why!?” How insanely close are these people? Gwen doesn’t ask for Ianto’s opinion each time she runs errands. Then again, she doesn’t fancy Ianto and there just might be something between- 

The dress Greer returns to her side with is mercifully casual enough to tolerate and, impressively, in Gwen’s correct size. When the hanger is pressed into her hand and she’s given a gentle shove towards a fitting room, she doesn’t fight, just contributes a quiet aside, “If I did need a dress, I think red’s more my colour.” 

“Everyone thinks red is their colour.” That nonanswer doesn’t make the cobalt blue fabric in her hands any more practical but she tries it on without a fuss and makes the near-fatal mistake of muttering “Oh, that is well lush,” to her reflection. 

It’s purely a coincidence that Lukas insists she should have a proper tour of the city she’s helping protect and that, given the hour, they’ll have dinner together at some point during their walk. It’s not threatening, it’s not awkward, it’s certainly not a date and it really doesn’t explain Gwen putting on the only pair of high heels she owns, her earrings with the real diamonds, or that bloodly dress. 

She’s busy fixing her hair when the door to her hotel room opens- they gave her two keys upon check-in. As Lukas is paying, it seemed reasonable enough for him to hold on to the other. They learnt from their first night together she’s hardly got anything to hide but that isn’t the problem, is it? 

“If you knocked, I didn’t hear,” she explains, half-shouting as she still facing the bathroom mirror and sorting out a hair-pin. “I’ll just be a mo- bollocks.” 

Well, if she was trying to impress him, it’s gone now but she directs a smile to his reflection as it appears in the glass beside hers. The zip of her dress is still open, one of its thin straps dangling off her shoulder as she leans heavily to one side then finally secures the hairpin holding her fringe back and lets her arms relax. 

Lukas has his glasses on and slacks that suggest he’s made some effort but by no means say that this should be a formal occasion. It isn’t, of course. It’s not- it’s not -a date. 

He looks like he wants to say something clever. 

“Button it,” she warns just in time to avoid hearing whatever it might have been. 

“Actually, that’s a…” He sorts out the zip for her even though it’s not what she asked for and she’d actually forgotten all about it. 

Her breath hitches but she manages to whisper, “Thank you,” with no particular emphasis and then moves to collect her jacket and handbag, starting for the door as she’s going to need just a moment of fresh air before she’ll be able to look Lukas in the eye again. 

[torchwoodbuilt-archive]

&& @oftorchwood​ ( starter call. )

biting her lip, isobel took a deep breath as she waited for the man to wake up. they had found the oddly dressed man a few hours ago and one of her most zealous employees knocked him out as a precaution. 

bad things happened when odd people showed up. 

when she saw him stir she leaned forwards, resting a hand on his chest. “shh. don’t move, you are tied up, you will only get hurt if you thrash around.” sure, her job is to interrogate him to make sure he isn’t going to harm the empire, but she is not going to be inhumane about it.

[fiercerebekah]

Lukas Engström ( @oftorchwood ) as Coeus —  Titan of Intellect, Knowledge, & North Axis of Heaven

[tuppencetrinkets-a]

@oftorchwood liked [X] for a starter from annie sawyer, being human bbc.

           “No, no, no!” Annie keened, her fingers rubbing anxious lines against her palms as she flitted back and forth between the handful of ....she didn’t know who they were, what they were.  They had gadgets, gizmos -- scientists, maybe, but scientists here without permission and ones that she didn’t trust, not in the least.”You can’t be here, you’ve no right!” She nearly shouted at one of the women that passed literally through her, unfazed.  A stomp of her foot followed, causing a pantry door to slam in the kitchen and the front window to rattle, but not nearly enough of a fuss for them to notice ... or at least not enough to leave.  Where was George?  at work today? no... a conference, some ...porter’s conference? oh, she was daft. No such thing as a porter’s conference, he just wanted to go away with Nina.  Mitchell, then!  No, that didn’t work either, he was being even broodier than usual, there was no telling where she’d find him, if she could.  “Get out of my house!” She demanded,again, standing at the foot of the stairs and glaring at the people coming and going through the flat.

[silverhairedmarine-blog]

Old Dog, New Bone

@oftorchwood

“Gear up, Dead Naval Officer on a British Navy ship.” 

The famous words, called out in many similar ways every day. Today was a day that Gibbs needed to get there first. It was a US Naval officer, his jurisdiction. But, of course, there would be a dog fight over it, and Gibbs wasn’t about to give up this new bone. 

Gibbs kept up his bulldog persona, long enough to distract higher ups and bulldoze his way into the crime scene. At least for his team. Sec Nav was giving him a little bit of a problem, as usual, but it wasn’t anything Gibbs wasn’t faced with before.