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m_findlowTitle: Just relax
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Owen, Tosh, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Word Count: 500 words
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for Challenge 208 - Armchair at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
anythingdrabble
Summary: Owen gets up close and personal with the latest thing to have fallen through the rift.
'Oh, great,' Owen grumbled as he stumbled over the woodland bracken, finding it catching on his clothes and asking a nuisance of itself.
'What is it?' Tosh called out, following a few yards behind him, with Ianto bringing up the rear of their trio.
'It's a bloody armchair,' Owen yelled back as they caught up to meet him in the narrow clearing. 'The rift bloody hates us,' he declared, having confirmed it was what they were looking for. His PDA pinged loudly from the residual rift radiation emanating from it.
'Grumbles when it's an alien hell bent on killing everyone, grumbles when it's an innocent piece of furniture,' Ianto remarked, to which Tosh simply smiled.
'Yeah, well I bet you'll be grumbling in an hour too when we've had to lug this thing all the way back to the car,' Owen snipped. He flopped down on it and bounced up and down, testing it out. 'Comfy, if you like this sort of ugly thing,' he said. A few moments later, fabric arms burst forth, locking Owen's arms and ankles in place. 'What the hell?' Owen muttered, struggling against his new binds. 'Get me out of this thing!'
Tosh and Ianto weren't sure how. 'If we try and cut you out, it might make things worse,' Tosh said. 'It's obviously semi-sentient.'
'Who ever heard of a sentient armchair!' Owen cried.
'Let's just get you back to the hub and figure it out there,' she promised.
It took a lot of grunting and swearing to lug it back, especially with Owen's added weight, finally dumping it opposite the sofa.
'It actually matches in quite nicely,' Ianto said, noting the way the two sets of tweed complimented one another.
'Oh, well so long as it matches, that's brilliant,' Owen grizzled.
'Never mind that it's taken me captive and probably planning on digesting me.'
'I think if it wanted to eat you it would have already done so,' Tosh said, fed up with Owen's attitude.
'Just imagine the indigestion,' Ianto added.
'Shut up the pair of you and get working on how to get me out of here!'
Their progress was slow and ineffective. No one had ever dealt with living furniture before and nothing they tried would make it let go of Owen.
'Go home and get a few hours sleep,' Owen insisted, mood having softened at their efforts.
'We'll stay,' Tosh said, slumping on the sofa opposite.
'Keep you company,' Ianto added, plonking down next to her. They stayed awake as long as they could, but eventually sleep crept up on them.
Tosh was the first to wake, leaning on Ianto's shoulder. She prodded him. 'Ianto, look,' she said, pointing at the sofa having now released Owen. He was fast asleep, but no longer tied down. If anything, the sofa seemed to curl around his body.
'Maybe it just wanted him to be nice and comfy. All that struggling only upset it.'
'Friendly furniture?'
'Maybe.' He gave it a stroke. 'Good chair.'
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Owen, Tosh, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Word Count: 500 words
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for Challenge 208 - Armchair at
anythingdrabbleSummary: Owen gets up close and personal with the latest thing to have fallen through the rift.
'Oh, great,' Owen grumbled as he stumbled over the woodland bracken, finding it catching on his clothes and asking a nuisance of itself.
'What is it?' Tosh called out, following a few yards behind him, with Ianto bringing up the rear of their trio.
'It's a bloody armchair,' Owen yelled back as they caught up to meet him in the narrow clearing. 'The rift bloody hates us,' he declared, having confirmed it was what they were looking for. His PDA pinged loudly from the residual rift radiation emanating from it.
'Grumbles when it's an alien hell bent on killing everyone, grumbles when it's an innocent piece of furniture,' Ianto remarked, to which Tosh simply smiled.
'Yeah, well I bet you'll be grumbling in an hour too when we've had to lug this thing all the way back to the car,' Owen snipped. He flopped down on it and bounced up and down, testing it out. 'Comfy, if you like this sort of ugly thing,' he said. A few moments later, fabric arms burst forth, locking Owen's arms and ankles in place. 'What the hell?' Owen muttered, struggling against his new binds. 'Get me out of this thing!'
Tosh and Ianto weren't sure how. 'If we try and cut you out, it might make things worse,' Tosh said. 'It's obviously semi-sentient.'
'Who ever heard of a sentient armchair!' Owen cried.
'Let's just get you back to the hub and figure it out there,' she promised.
It took a lot of grunting and swearing to lug it back, especially with Owen's added weight, finally dumping it opposite the sofa.
'It actually matches in quite nicely,' Ianto said, noting the way the two sets of tweed complimented one another.
'Oh, well so long as it matches, that's brilliant,' Owen grizzled.
'Never mind that it's taken me captive and probably planning on digesting me.'
'I think if it wanted to eat you it would have already done so,' Tosh said, fed up with Owen's attitude.
'Just imagine the indigestion,' Ianto added.
'Shut up the pair of you and get working on how to get me out of here!'
Their progress was slow and ineffective. No one had ever dealt with living furniture before and nothing they tried would make it let go of Owen.
'Go home and get a few hours sleep,' Owen insisted, mood having softened at their efforts.
'We'll stay,' Tosh said, slumping on the sofa opposite.
'Keep you company,' Ianto added, plonking down next to her. They stayed awake as long as they could, but eventually sleep crept up on them.
Tosh was the first to wake, leaning on Ianto's shoulder. She prodded him. 'Ianto, look,' she said, pointing at the sofa having now released Owen. He was fast asleep, but no longer tied down. If anything, the sofa seemed to curl around his body.
'Maybe it just wanted him to be nice and comfy. All that struggling only upset it.'
'Friendly furniture?'
'Maybe.' He gave it a stroke. 'Good chair.'
