m_findlow

Title: Payback
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Owen
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,950 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for prompt "All the wrong reasons"
Summary: Owen has his own views on justice

'Oi, pretty boy! The club for queers is round the corner!'

Owen picked up his beer and sipped it slowly, ignoring the comment he knew was directed at him.

'Think they got a dress code around here and you're not meeting it.' All his mates laughed at that.

The petite blonde behind the bar with a punk rock hairstyle gave a tired sigh. 'Leave off the punters, Gary.'

'You could join him, sweetheart. They take all kinds down there. Isle of Lesbos and all that. Is it still het if a gay bloke makes off with a lesbian?'

'Bite me,' she replied.

'No chance, darling. Might catch something.' The boys all hooted with laughter at that one.

He should just leave, Owen thought. A beer wasn't worth this much hassle. There were dozens of pubs and clubs in the city where he could go and have a quiet one without all the bullshit. It was the shirt, he knew. It wasn't a going out drinking shirt, but it was the only clean one he'd had in his locker after the last one went to God in an explosion of alien entrails. He'd be damned if he'd go all the way home to change again just to go out for a few drinks. If he went home, he'd just stay and veg out there. What he really wanted after today was a few beers, chased down by a few spirits, and then maybe a halfway decent looking bird to come home with him.

'You having a few pints before your big drag show?' the man asked him again. Owen ignored it, but Gary, determined not to be ignored, got up from the table and sauntered over to the bar.

'Derek over there's up for a bit of experimentation, if you know what I mean. Asked me to get your number.'

Finish this beer and he was out of here, he promised himself. Leave these dickheads to hassle some other poor sod.

'D'you not hear me mate?'

Owen turned to him. 'I heard you just fine. I was wondering when you were going to piss off.'

Gary looked taken aback, clearly unaccustomed to having his victims fight back, and not with clever words either. 'What d'you say?'

Owen took a pull on his beer. 'You heard me.'

Gary, stood over him, large and threatening. Owen knew the type. Thick, meathead rugby player. All muscle, no brains.

'Leave off, Gary,' the blonde said, sensing the impending barfight.

'S'alright,' Owen said, standing up, still a good foot shorter than Gary. 'I'm done,' he said, walking towards the door.

'We're not done til I say we're fucking done!' Gary yelled at his back, not wanting to be embarrassed in front of his mates. Owen kept walking. He knew an empty threat when he heard one. Fuck you, Gary, he thought, stepping out into the cool night air.

Three hours later, Owen was stumbling back down the street. He'd done what he'd set out to do, getting slaughtered. The hangover tomorrow would be brutal, but it'd be worth it. As he was walking back past the bar he'd started his crawl at, he heard a ruckus coming from the alley down its far side. He stopped, unable to keep from walking past without having a sticky beak.

Bar brawl, he thought, seeing the small crowd huddled at the top of the alley, blocking his view. He was about to walk away when he heard the voice raise up over the din of the crowd.

'Come on you fucking freak show!' It was obnoxious Gary. Then Owen heard a snarl which was distinctly not human.

He shoved his way awkwardly through the throng until he was right at the edge of the audience, coming face to face with the scene. There was Gary, and there was the weevil. It was small, probably not much more in height than Owen. Juvenile, he thought. Female most likely, judging by the facial structure. Either way, despite teeth and claws, Gary towered over it.

Owen could tell it was scared. Scared and threatened weevils were all bark and no bite. A weevil that knew it had your number didn't bother with conversation, simply attacking with as much force as possible. Even scared, that didn't stop it taking a few swings at Gary with its claws, though mainly in defense, as the mountain of a man came surging forward to tackle it once more. He watched on as the tall man beat into the weevil, which was trying and failing to win this fight, the crowd getting wild as they sensed blood, egging on Gary to end it. It was anything but a fair fight.

Without thinking, Owen threw himself forward, attempting to rugby tackle Gary and stop him from taking another violent blow at the weevil. The pair of them staggered sideways and smacked into the brick wall, dazing Owen with the impact. It didn't stop him throwing a handful of wild punches, landing one or two before Gary finally pushed him off.

'What the fu-' Gary mumbled before getting a look at him. 'Ger off you puncy princess!' Owen threw another punch, glancing off the barrel of a beer gut, and feeling better for it. He'd been stewing over the comments from the bar all night, long after he'd finally left the bar.

'I'll fucking clock you!' Gary yelled at him. 'Who d'you think you are?'

'Torchwood,' came a second voice, heaving Gary back against the wall. 'Party's over people,' Jack announced and the crowd suddenly fell silent. 'You heard me!' Jack yelled. 'Police will be here in three minutes, so do yourselves a favour.' That got them moving.

Owen was still a bit confused, though that may have been the alcohol, he decided. 'How'd you find me?'

'We were in the neighborhood,' Jack replied.

'Some idiot was posting video of the fight on their Facebook page,' Ianto replied, appearing from nowhere and following Jack over to check on the weevil. She was still snarling and lashing wildly, afraid of a second assault.

'She's injured,' Ianto said, keeping a careful distance.

'Yeah, help me get her down and sedated,' Jack said, loosening his grip on Gary and turning to face the weevil. He stepped forward, hands raised. 'It's okay. We're the good guys.'

Erring on the side of caution, the weevil made to try and get away, throwing itself bodily at Jack. He stumbled back a few steps before getting a purchase on the weevil, pushing it backwards until he was straddled over the top of it.

Owen watched Jack's motions before something suddenly grabbed him from behind, hands gripping around his neck, tightly squeezing.

'Stupid shit,' Gary growled drunkenly in his ear. 'I'll have you.'

Owen jabbed an elbow right into his ribcage and Gary howled, releasing him. Owen quickly spun around and threw a punch at his jaw, then kicked him until he doubled over, adding a few more kicks for good measure. He'd been waiting all night to get one back on this piece of dirt. Staggering back to his feet whist Gary was knelt over, spitting out blood, Owen felt the warm metal at his back. He pulled his gun, remembering it was still tucked into the back of his jeans from earlier in the day, sliding back the safety and pointing it directly at Gary's head.

'You've got a gun!' Gary wailed.

'Yeah, that's right,' Owen growled. 'I've got a gun, so that I can blow the brains out of useless cocksuckers like you.'

'Owen!' Jack screamed, still holding down the flailing weevil.

'Put it down, Owen,' Ianto gently asked him, sensing his fury.

'Scumbags like you should be locked up for life,' Owen growled, hand still firmly gripped around the gun, feeling how right it felt in his hand, watching this pathetic piece of crap wet himself on the other end of the barrel.

Jack growled out a pained scream and the shadow of Ianto's figure behind Owen faded to assist Jack before the weevil took a chunk out of him. In the background he could hear the weevil's snarls slowly dying down, sedative administered and taking full effect.

'Don't shoot me,' Gary begged. 'Please.'

'Kinda wish it'd been a proper sized weevil,' Owen remarked. 'Big guy would have torn you limb from fucking limb, and I'd have stood back and watched it all happen, because people like you deserve what they get.'

'Owen.' Ianto's voice was back again, warning him against doing anything rash or stupid. Right now, nothing felt rash or stupid.

'Owen.' This time there was a hand on his shoulder, and it was Jack's voice, urging him to stop. 'It's over.'

Owen let out a ragged breath and pulled his gun hand away, feeling someone take it off him.

'Oh, thank bleeding Christ,' Gary whimpered.

As soon as it was out of his hand, Owen swung hard, fist targeting temple with the kind of accuracy only a medical professional could have managed, knocking him out cold.

'Probably overkill,' he heard Ianto mutter.

'Still better than a kill,' Jack replied.

'True,' he agreed.

'You okay?' Jack asked.

'What do you think?' Owen snarled, shaking Jack's hand off his shoulder.

'Defending the honour of a fair maiden weevil. Who'd have thunk?' Jack grinned.

'Getting to punch this dickhead's lights out was more my primary objective,' Owen said, still feeling a little tipsy.

Jack laughed. 'I've heard of people doing the wrong thing for the right reasons, but doing the right thing for the wrong reasons? That's a new one.'

'Whatevs,' he muttered. He glanced across at the young weevil, lying sprawled on the ground. She didn't look too badly injured. Nothing a few days rest wouldn't fix, and probably nothing that a weevil wouldn't be used to, dealing with territorial battles down in Cardiff's sewers. 'Can I go home now?'

Jack gave him a quizzical look. 'You don't want to check her over?'

He gave another cursory glance. 'Looks fine. Nothing you two can't handle. Some of us were planning on having tonight off.'

Jack took one look at him and saw the lack of tension in his body, a clear sign that he'd knocked back a few drinks after work. Probably not to great idea for him to be making any medical assessments, even if he was an accomplished drunk. Jack looked across at Ianto and then back at Owen. 'Were you planning on driving or walking?'

'I'm not fucking stupid,' Owen replied. 'I'm walking.'

'It's eight miles.'

'So?'

'Ianto would be delighted to drive you home,' Jack said, unable to suppress a smirk in his lover's direction.

'Oh, yes. Delighted,' Ianto replied deadpan. 'Moonlighting as an Uber driver for extra cash. My day job sucks and the boss is a real tight arse.'

'Hey! Never was there a finer, tighter arse,' Jack argued. 'You love it.'

Ianto rolled his eyes. 'Come on, Mr Chivalry. Time to take your drunken arse home.'

'What about him?' Owen asked, pointing to Gary, unconscious on the ground. Not that he really cared.

'Special place for him,' Jack replied. 'An all expenses paid room at L'Hotel dux Torchwood. The executive suite comes with complimentary neighbouring weevil, and Janet loves to entertain the punters. Ought to put him off taking another shot at a weevil any time soon.'

'Good,' Owen grumbled.

'Oh, and judging by the head knock he's taken, he might need a medical check up in the morning. I mean, we shouldn't risk an undiagnosed concussion, should we?'

'He might require a proper physical exam,' Ianto added.

Owen smirked. 'I know a good doctor.'

Jack smiled back. 'I thought you would.'