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Title: At the races
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Torchwood team
Word Count: 500 words
Rating: PG.
Notes: Written for Challenge 177 - Flutter at [livejournal.com profile] anythingdrabble
Summary: Jack is happy to ket the team have a reward for a job well done.

Owen smiled as he worked his way through the crowds of smart suited men and fancy frocked women. He was more Interested in the ladies than anything else. He had thought that today was going to be a rubbish day, but seeing the ladies decked out in their short dresses and pump heels, things were starting to look up.

'Some nice looking fillies out here today,' Jack observed.

'You got that right,' Owen said, eyeing off a blonde with a ridiculously tiny waist.

'I was talking about the horses,' Jack clarified, scowling at Owen's obvious ogling.

'Suit yourself.' Owen shook his head again. 'I can't believe they couldn't tell the difference between a horse and an alien.' It was pretty bloody oblivious from where he was standing. how the jockey hadn't noticed that his steed had a third eye sticking out of the front of its face was mind boggling. It had been lucky they'd spotted it before the strappers lead it from the stalls and out onto the track. It was always easier to sort these things out when there weren't twenty thousand spectators watching, mostly because retconning that many people was a pain.

'Spose I'll have to check it over when we get back to the hub,' Owen grumbled.

'Well, you are the closest thing we have to a vet,' Jack replied.

'As a doctor I'll try not to be offended. Can we at least hang around for a free glass of champagne before we go?'

'I don't see why not.'

Gwen frowned and looked down at herself. 'We're not exactly dressed for the occasion. Especially after trawling through horse stables. Pretty sure I stepped in something.'

Owen smirked. 'Oh, I was wondering what the smell was.' Gwen threw him a death glare but it was worth it.

'You're all gorgeous on the inside,' Jack said, cutting through the tension. 'How's that?'

Ianto cleared his throat. 'Should we really be mixing work and pleasure?'

Jack clapped him on the shoulder. 'Come on. It's the Grand National. We can't just go. It's only right to stay and enjoy it a little bit. What's the point in going to the races if you're not going to have a bit of a flutter on the horses? I fancy that one,' he added, pointing at a dappled grey mare.

Owen raised an eyebrow. 'Why? You know someone who knows someone who has the inside rail or something?' Jack always knew someone somewhere, but the idea of a bookie who might tip them a wink sounded appealing.

'No, I just like the colour and pattern of the jockey's silks.'

'I'm surprised you didn't say you liked the look of the jockey.'

'Well, I didn't, but if we're having to compare notes, he does have a really cute butt. Ianto? Fancy putting down a fiver with the rest of us?'

'I'm going to need to find the track guide and study their form.'

Owen groaned. Talk about taking all the fun out of it.

July 2025

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