Short fic for the taking!

[eldabe]

Meme from nancybrown!

The first five people to comment in this post get to request that I write a drabble of any pairing/character of their choosing (that I know). In return, they have to may choose to post this in their journal, regardless of their ability level.

And by drabble, I mean something around 100 words. I'm imprecise like that.

BECAUSE I'M NICE AND BAD AT MATH - this is on livejournal and dreamwidth. If for some reason more than five of you want fic (ha!) the first five people on both sites can request. I'll do 10.

Comments

Posting for Roommate

[eldabe]

Roommate requests: "Ianto and Andy being Welsh together."

Added hilarity for the face that she doesn't even watch/like Torchwood. BUT IT IS A REQUEST.

Roommate reports that she like it, and here it is for posterity.

[eldabe]

(Note: Apologies for potential inaccuracies and American-ness. I wikipedia-ed a lot. This takes place during Six Nations 2007, and everything is as accurate as I could get it.)

Bloody Torchwood. England versus Wales in the last week of the Six Nations, in the Millennium Stadium, and some sort of spooky-doo just had to show up in a bloody pub on the other side of Cathays. His mates were all in the city center, watching the match, and here he was trying to contain a riot with Gwen's new "special ops" team.

Andy held down one of the flailing people, noting the fact that her skin was turning disturbingly purple. It was just Gwen and the Japanese woman and the bloke in the suit. The other man and Captain Coat weren't there.

"Oi!" Andy yelled, as another one of the purple crowd knocked his hat off. "Wales hasn't won a single match this year, and I'm here to help you!"

"Don't need another bloody Wooden Spoon," the bloke in the suit said, as he kicked the man attacking Andy's foot.

"They were leading 18-15 at half-time," Andy said, remembering the score from when he ran out of the pub to respond to the call.

The television was still blaring in the background, but it was hard to hear over the fighting. Then the suit was using little plastic things to tie up two of them, and Andy stood for a minute, panting.

Gwen was tying up the last one, and there was a whole groups of people scattered across the floor, mostly unconscious. The Japanese woman was holding up a scanner to one of them and frowning.

There was a cheer suddenly from the television, and Andy spun around with the other man in time to catch the replay of a drop goal from Hook.

Andy thrust his fist in the air and whooped, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Five minutes later, they were settled at the bar, each holding a cold bottle of lager.

"Ianto Jones," the man said, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"Andy Davidson," Andy said, his eyes flickering quickly back to the screen. They both drank.

They stayed until Wales kicked England's arse. And then they finished helping with the clean-up.