m_findlow

Title: Noisy bedfellows
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Tosh, Owen
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 655 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for m_findlow's prompt "Any, any, If you breathe any louder, I'm going to think I'm sharing a room with Darth Vader" at fic_promptly
Summary: Tosh is having a hard time getting to sleep.

Tosh kicked Owen again, for all the good it did. He was just a lump in their bed, and an annoying one at that.

She turned over and pulled the covers up over her ears, trying to settle back into sleep but it was impossible. After so many years of having no one to share her bed, she should have been delighted that anyone, let alone Owen, wanted to share it with her. It was fine whilst they’d been cuddled up together, talking about everything and nothing until they fell asleep, but now that Owen was asleep, there was simply no way Tosh could fall asleep. It wasn’t so much that he was snoring, as it was just really loud breathing. She didn’t mind lying there in the dark, listening to her lover’s chest rising and falling, still giddy with excitement that he was actually right there next to her. But then Owen would descend deeper into sleep and then the real Owen came out. She could see even in the darkened room that his head was lolled to one side, mouth hanging open as he inhaled and exhaled great lungfuls of air, oblivious to the sound. She'd assumed that if she just gave him a gentle nudge, it might be enough to get him to close his mouth, or at least readjust his head to stop the sound, but it hadn’t worked. She’d shoved a little harder, trying to get him to turn over on his side, but he just lay there.

Fine, she though. Clearly there was no budging him. She’d just have to make the best of it and turn over herself, tucking her head beneath the duvet. After twenty minutes of lying there wide awake, she was fed up. She kicked, gently at first, and when that did nothing, she kicked harder again. Still Owen didn’t stir. It was all that Torchwood training, she realised. You learned to get sleep wherever and whenever you could, and when you did, there was precious little going to wake you when you subconsciously knew you didn’t have to wake.

Damn it, she thought. She laughed when Gwen and Ianto came in grumpy in the mornings, complaining about their other halves and their snoring that had kept them up half the night. Now the shoe was on the other foot.

Maybe it would stop after a little while, she hoped. She snuggled down again and tried to ignore it, but like a ticking clock, the more she tried to pretend it wasn’t there, the more she noticed it, and the more it aggravated her. There was nothing for it. She was just going to have to wake him up.

She turned back over and shook him gently. ‘Owen?’. She shook a bit harder but all he did was struggle against it, pulling at the duvet as if someone was trying to steal it off him, but all the while continuing to make noise. Annoyed, Tosh grabbed his nose and pinched it hard.

‘Oi!’ Owen grumbled, finally waking up. ‘What are you doing? I was asleep!’

‘Lucky you,’ she said. ‘If you breathe any louder, I’m going to think I’m sharing a room with Darth Vader.’

‘What are you on about?’

‘You, Owen!’ she cried. 'Your snoring, or breathing, or whatever it is. It’s enough to wake the dead. I’ve heard weevils that make less noise than you.’

‘I was asleep. How was I supposed to know?’

Tosh rolled her eyes in the dark. It was a fair point, she supposed, not that it helped her any. She slumped back down into the bed and tried to wrap herself around Owen. ‘Can you at least wait until I’m asleep, then?’ After that, she was pretty sure she’d be too tired to notice.

‘Anything for you, Tosh,’ he said, planting a light kiss on her forehead, pulling the covers back over her.

‘Can I get that in writing?’