m_findlow

Title: Spoilt for choice
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Owen, Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: M for language
Length: 701 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for darkhaven's prompt "Any, any, too many to choose from" at fic_promptly
Summary: Owen needed a hand to get through his workload. He just didn't mean this

Jack watched as Owen prowled across the hub, the device tucked under his arm, half hidden under his leather jacket, but not so much so that Jack couldn't make out what it was.

'You'd better not break that,' he warned. 'Tosh will crucify you if anything happens to her precious replicator.'

'Piss off. I know what I'm doing,' Owen snapped, wondering why everyone always felt the need to treat him like he was a simpleton. 'I've got more bloody qualifications that the rest of you lot put together,' he muttered, setting the device down on his autopsy table.

Jack stood above him, leaning over the railing, deciding he'd better come and supervise, just in case.

'What exactly are you planning on using that for, anyway? I seem to recall mentioning that its use was to be limited to essential items only.'

That had been of course, after Owen had attempted replicating hundred pound bank notes. Even Jack had learnt his lesson after the device had gone haywire, trying to duplicate a box full of red velvet cupcakes. Every now and then, he'd still find a petrified or mouldy cake tucked away in odd spots around the hub, much to Ianto's displeasure. It had certainly put him off red velvet cake for the time being, having eaten more of it than he ever thought possible in one lifetime.

'The mass spectrometer,' Owen replied. 'It's been working overtime trying to analyse results from that whole ship full of medical samples. At this rate I'll be old and grey before we get halfway through them.'

Jack shrugged. 'So get another one. They're not that expensive. I'm sure our budget can stretch that far.'

Owen thrust his hands on his hips and looked at Jack with annoyance.

'Sorry, but have you seen the size of the requisition form Teaboy makes you fill out? Sixteen pages of bollocks as to why something should be considered for purchase. Waste of fucking time. I swear he's only done it so none of us will bother filling one out.'

'I never have a problem,' Jack replied. 'If I want something, I just say so, and Ianto buys it.'

'Yeah, well, the rest of aren't shagging him, are we? And before you say it, no I'm not considering fucking the Teaboy to get out of doing his stupid paperwork. Officious little bastard.'

'Hey, watch your language,' Jack warned. 'Nobody gets to rag on Ianto's obscene anal retentiveness but me.'

'I heard that!' came through faint Welsh tones from across the other side of the hub.

Owen ignored the pair of them and hit the button on the side of the device, pointing it at the mass spectrometer. What was the point of having cool alien tech if they couldn't use it?

He twisted the dial on the side, judging by feel just how far he'd set it. Five brand new mass spec machines would be plenty, but a dozen would be better, he decided, twisting it further.

The bright white beam erupted from the centre of the device, but bounced off the shiny surface of the mass spectrometer and and hit Owen in the face, sending him onto the floor in a flash of light.

Jack rushed down the steps of the autopsy bay, yelling for Ianto to come help him.

'Owen! Are you okay?' he asked, leaning down next to the body sprawled on the floor.

'Yeah, I'm fine,' he groaned.

'Me too,' said a second Owen, sitting up from his spot on the floor near Tosh's desk.

'Same here,' replied a third, walking across from Jack's office.

There was a banging coming from one of the morgue doors near Jack's head. 'Does someone want to let me out of here? Sometime this week would be nice.' The voice was distinctively Owen's.

Jack and Owen looked at one another with a look of panicked guilt. Uh oh.

'Tosh is going to kill you,' Jack said, staring down at a stunned Owen.

'Yes, but which one?' Ianto added.

'Tis a burden to have so many choices,' Jack sighed.

'Look on the bright side,' Ianto said, 'it'll be one way to get rid of the clones.'

'Har, fucking har,' Owen muttered.