Ficlet: Costume Cheat

[badly_knitted]

 


Title: Costume Cheat
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Owen, Tosh, Gwen, Ianto.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Everyone’s dressed up in costume for a Halloween party, except for Owen.
Word Count: 646
Written For: My own prompt ‘Any, Any, “Wearing your work clothes as your Halloween costume is cheating”,’ at fic_promptly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.




Halloween was one of Jack’s favourite holidays; it had everything you could possibly wish for. All that delicious candy, bobbing for apples, which had a way of showing off everyone’s butts to great effect, and the opportunity to dress up as anyone or anything you wanted; what could be better? Add in a few parties and he was in heaven.


Coming out of his office, resplendent in his pirate costume, complete with eye patch and a knitted parrot on his shoulder, lovingly made with his own two hands, Jack looked over to Owen’s workstation where the team’s medic, wearing his familiar white coat, was lounging, chewing on a pencil and staring off into space.


“Owen, why aren’t you changed yet? You’d better get a move on; I’m not having you make us late for the UNIT Halloween party. It you’re not ready in fifteen minutes, the rest of us are leaving without you. You’ll have to get a taxi or something, and don’t think I’ll reimburse your fare either. You’ve had all afternoon; that should have been plenty of time. Everyone else is getting into costume.”


“Keep your pants on, Harkness! I’m ready, see?” Owen plucked at his lab coat. “This is my costume.”


“That’s not a costume; it’s the same thing you’ve been wearing all day, complete with blood spatters from that alien autopsy this morning.”


“Yep!” Owen grinned smugly. “I’m going as a mad scientist, and unlike the rest of you, my costume didn’t cost me a penny.”


Hands on hips, Jack glared at the smaller man. “Wearing your work clothes as your Halloween costume is cheating, not to mention it shows a complete lack of imagination. This is the first time we’ve ever been invited to one of UNIT’s parties and if you show up looking like that you’ll be letting the whole team down!”


“Oh, like you’re being so imaginative! Pirates are old hat,” Owen sneered.


“I prefer to think of it as a classic,” Jack said with a sniff, adjusting his parrot as Tosh and Gwen appeared from the locker rooms, where they’d been changing. Tosh was class personified as Cleopatra, while Gwen was the kind of nurse you’d never see in an NHS hospital, all short skirt and high heels, and a generous amount of cleavage on display.


“Why isn’t Owen changed?” Gwen asked.


“Apparently he’s cheating by going as himself,” Ianto said, emerging from Jack’s office, done up as a Roman centurion. “This costume’s a bit draughty; I don’t know how women can stand wearing a skirt at this time of year. The wind whips right up it!”


“Oh, but it looks so good on you,” Jack leered. “Shivers me timbers, it does!”


“Oi! I’m not going as myself; I’m a mad scientist!” Owen scowled at Ianto.


“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?” Ianto raised an eyebrow in Owen’s direction.


“Sod off, Teaboy.” Getting to his feet, Owen picked up a pair of black-rimmed glasses from his desk and put them on.


“That doesn’t help you know,” Ianto smirked. “People can still tell it’s you.”


“Are we going to this party or not?” Owen snapped.


“We are.” Jack drew his rapier, brandishing it dramatically. “To the Torchwood mobile, me hearties, or you’ll be walkin’ the plank!”


“And he’s criticising my costume,” Owen muttered. “He sounds nothing like a pirate with that accent, and he’s prancing about like a right ponce.”


Jack ignored him and started herding the team towards the underground garage, threatening to set his parrot on them if they didn’t get moving.


Shaking his head in resignation, Ianto followed the girls, wishing he’d put a pair of shorts on under his tunic to keep the draught out. This was a disaster in the making; the UNIT bigwigs weren’t going to know what hit them. It was a safe bet Torchwood wouldn’t be invited to next year’s party.



The End