BTBD Challenge 62 - Hanging about

[m_findlow]

Title: Hanging about
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Owen, Gwen, Tosh
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,408 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Challenge 62 - Bright at beattheblackdog
Summary: Hanging out takes on a whole new meaning

'I think I'm going to be sick,' Ianto said. 'That or pass out. It's about a fifty fifty right now.'

Jack didn't disagree. He wasn't feeling so flash right now either. At first he'd felt fine, a little giddy, kind of like being high, but now the high was gone, leaving him with just the hungover nausea. He never knew you could feel so sick being upside down.

'Remind me again which bright spark thought pressing the button was a good idea?' Ianto said, trying to stop the bile from rising in his throat. Was it still considering rising if you were upside down? He pushed his tie out of his face, but it flopped back as soon as he let it go. He  grabbed it again and tucked it through the gap in his shirt, deciding tomorrow he was going to invest in some tie bars.

Jack tried to get his bearings, but it was challenging. One second they'd all been standing around, examining Tosh's latest gizmo, whilst Tosh wasn't there, of course, and then Owen had to go and touch it. Being upended, suspended in the air by their feet, was the resultant outcome. Owen was somehow still unaffected, not dangling by his ankles in an invisible stockade.

'Owen, push the button again,' Jack said, sure that if pressing it once had gotten them in this mess, pressing it again would get them out.

'Yeah, yeah, alright,' Owen said, grabbing the small metal box and pressing the button again. He pressed it once, twice, a third time, but nothing happened.

'Er, next suggestion?' he asked.

Jack tried to get a  better look at it, but it was difficult, being ten foot up in the air. His shoulders were beginning to ache from the heavy weight of his coat which was hanging down around him. He jiggled his arms until it slipped free, landing on top of Owen.

'Oi!'

'Sorry.'

'Hey Jack, are you seeing all the bright twinkly lights?' Ianto asked, sounding a bit vague and distant, waving at something in front of his face.

Yeah, he really was, but he didn't think that had anything to do with then device. More like the huge volume of blood pooling in his brain.

'Do something, Owen!' Jack yelled, watching as Owen disappeared down into the autopsy bay. Jack tried swinging himself upwards, trying to get the blood out of his head, but only served to swing himself uselessly around, making himself even dizzier.

'Hockey!' he heard Ianto sing out. He thought he'd gone mad until he saw Owen return, armed with their ever faithful hockey stick. He didn't remember leaving it down there. Oh, wait, yes he did. Those were some good times. He giggled in spite of himself, before realising his thinking was being impairment by his suspension. It wasn't really that funny.

Owen swung it upwards, trying to reach them. Jack flailed his arms towards it, trying to grab hold of the curled end, fingertips finally gripping it. Owen pulled, but it was like a tug of war, Jack seemingly stuck in place.

'Owen, are our heads going to explode or something?' Jack asked.

'Brain hemorrhage is possible,' Owen admitted, 'but you're more likely to suffocate from the pressure of your organs on your lungs.'

He did feel a little breathless, but he'd assumed that he was just from being annoyed at Owen. That was bound to get anyone's blood pressure up. Right now, being up wasn't the problem.  

Owen tried umpteen different permutations on the device to try and get them down, but nothing he tried seemed to have any effect. In the meantime, the pair of them were getting more and more incoherent. They'd finally stopped giggling at things in front of them that didn't exist, and that was when Owen began to worry.

'Ianto,' he called up, having to say his name three times to get his attention. 'How're you feeling, mate?'

'Little puffed. The elephants are sitting on me.'

'Big elephants,' Jack agreed, sounding wheezy.

Great, Owen thought, delusional and short of breath. He propped up a ladder, trying to get close enough to reach them. He managed to get a hold of Ianto and force his shoulders up a little bit, trying to relieve some of the pressure, but he couldn't hold him there for long, his body still contorted awkwardly, too heavy to suspend in mid air.  

'Head hurts,' Ianto moaned.

'I know, mate. Just try and take a few long breaths. It'll make you feel better.'

Ianto did as he was told as best he could, feeling the fog be clear from his head a little. 'Owen please get us down. It feels like my head it going to burst.'

Owen reluctantly left him to check on Jack, repositioning the ladder closer to him.

Jack's breathing was shallow and Owen couldn't get him to wake up.

'Owen, why isn't he talking?' he heard Ianto mumble, arms trying to reach for his lover, but falling well short.

How had his morning descended into chaos so quickly? Owen thought. He needed to fix this now. He picked up the device again, turning it over, trying to figure out what the hell Tosh had been doing with it, and how to get it to reverse the effect. He was on the verge of calling her. She was always the brightest one around here when it came to gadgets. The rest of them got by on sheer luck most days.

He looked up, seeing Ianto now hanging equally uselessly, eyes closed, and arms limp over his head.

Bollocks. He looked around frantically for a solution, before spying the hockey stick again. He grabbed it, holding it aloft over the device, pausing and considering what would happen.

'Oh, screw it,' he said, slamming the stick down hard, smashing then device. It split apart into about ten different fragments, but it was the thud of the two bodies hitting the ground that caught his attention.

'Thank Christ for that,' he said dropping the stick and rushing over to check on them.

Ianto groaned first, waking up as everything in his body started moving back into its rightful place.

'I think I'm going to be sick,' he moaned. Owen helped him slowly sit up and put his head between his legs. At least he wasn't complaining about the bruises he'd have later from his less than graceful landing. Jack was in worse shape, still unconscious, but eventually he too came around.

'I feel like I've just woken up after a night of fifteen hypervodkas,' he said, holding his arm over his eyes, shading them from the bright lights overhead.

'Oh, I hate pins and needles,' Ianto moped, as blood rushed back into his legs, distracting him from his nausea for a moment.

'What did you do, Owen?' Jack asked.

'Er, nothing that Tosh will be happy about,' he confessed seeing the results of his handiwork all over the floor.

'Looks like you took the Jack Harkness approach to fixing things,' Ianto quipped.

'Just be grateful it worked.'

Ianto slumped his head in his hands. 'Believe me, I am. I've never loved that hockey stick so much. I feel like a piece of laundry been hung out to dry then chucked through the tumble dryer.'

Just at that moment, Gwen and Tosh returned, strolling in through the door, seeing them all sprawled on the floor, the place in a mess.

'See, Tosh,' she said, 'leave for a few hours and here they are, lying about on the job. I swear sometimes I think nothing would get done around here if it wasn't for us.'

She walked over to where Jack was, standing right next to his head, and cocking her own at him.

'Well? Are you getting up or not, Jack Harkness?'

Jack let his head flop back onto the concrete. 'Nope. Think I'll stay here for a bit. That's the best idea I've heard all day.'

'Yep,' Ianto agreed. 'Floors are definitely good.'

Gwen sighed at the pair of them, and an equally sheepish looking Owen, who was getting daggers from Tosh as she saw the remains of her latest project now broken and shattered.

'Come on, Tosh. Let's leave them to it. Some of us don't have the luxury of just hanging around all day.'

'Trust me when I say you don't know just how hard that is,' Jack replied at her retreating form.

Comments

[bk_forever]

Typical Gwen, not an ounce of concern for her colleagues. Couldn't she see how bad they looked? I bet Ianto's clothes were in disarray, which isn't like him at all.

Poor guys, they deserve the rest of the day off to relax and recover from their ordeal. Owen owes them big time for putting them through that just because he couldn't resist fiddling. *carefully moves the boys to a comfy bed so they can relax horizontally*