Jupiter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jupiter2932) wrote2024-01-15 01:20 pm
jupiter2932) wrote2024-01-15 01:20 pm
Double Drabble: Mess
Title: Clutter
Author:jupiter2932
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: G
Word Count: 200
Characters: Owen Harper, Owen Harper's Mom
Warnings: Canonical child abuse (emotional/verbal)
Notes: Written for![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
torchwood100 challenge 796, Mess.
His mother kept the house in order, with some clutter as a show of coziness: magazines on the coffee table, mail on the counter, his stepdad’s rugby bag by the door.
His bedroom, though, she didn’t care much about as long as he kept the door shut. As she seemed happier when he kept himself out of sight as well, by then, this suited them both.
Just one time she said something about it. He’d had a couple mates over for his thirteenth birthday; they’d holed up in his room with snacks and United v. Crystal Palace on the portable TV he’d saved his money for the year before.
“Sorry for the mess,” his mother said when Hazza’s aunt popped her head in to say hello when she came to pick him up. “Teenage boys, you know? I couldn’t get Owen to clean up after himself if the Queen Mother herself dropped by.”
He gaped, which made Hazza’s aunt laugh, but the next three weeks, he tried. Made his bed, cleared his clutter, did his laundry on time.
“What d’you want, a gold star?” she asked when he pointed it out.
He didn’t bother trying again until he moved out.
Author:
jupiter2932Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: G
Word Count: 200
Characters: Owen Harper, Owen Harper's Mom
Warnings: Canonical child abuse (emotional/verbal)
Notes: Written for
torchwood100 challenge 796, Mess.His mother kept the house in order, with some clutter as a show of coziness: magazines on the coffee table, mail on the counter, his stepdad’s rugby bag by the door.
His bedroom, though, she didn’t care much about as long as he kept the door shut. As she seemed happier when he kept himself out of sight as well, by then, this suited them both.
Just one time she said something about it. He’d had a couple mates over for his thirteenth birthday; they’d holed up in his room with snacks and United v. Crystal Palace on the portable TV he’d saved his money for the year before.
“Sorry for the mess,” his mother said when Hazza’s aunt popped her head in to say hello when she came to pick him up. “Teenage boys, you know? I couldn’t get Owen to clean up after himself if the Queen Mother herself dropped by.”
He gaped, which made Hazza’s aunt laugh, but the next three weeks, he tried. Made his bed, cleared his clutter, did his laundry on time.
“What d’you want, a gold star?” she asked when he pointed it out.
He didn’t bother trying again until he moved out.