#owandy

It had been hours. Stakeouts weren't that common, even less left to only one officer. But the rest of the force had been called out to a robbery and Andy had stayed behind to hold the fort - or well, to watch the door. The anonymous hint of an escapee hiding in the building had been vague enough and by now, at 3am, Andy wondered if anyone else was even awake. The only reason he wasn't yet was his thermos full of coffee but even that had run dry half an hour ago. It was a quiet night in an empty street, so the knock on his window startled him.

Behind the glass, a familiar face waved at him. "Owen?"

The doctor opened the door and sat on the passenger seat with a smile.1 "Hey, Andy."

"What are you doing here?"

"Bringing you," - he pulled up the plastic bag he'd been holding and placed it on Andy's lap - "dinner."

"Is this-"

"Fish and chips from Benny's2 , yup." He opened the bag3 and pulled out a couple of sachets. "I got you extra salt, pepper, chilli flakes, vinegar. You know the deal."

Andy opened the box and with the ease of familiarity took the batter off the haddock with the small wooden spoon. "It's a texture thing," he explained when Owen raised an eyebrow at him.

In the meanwhile, Owen had opened up the chilli sachet and covered the chips with them.

When Andy finally got a bite, they were an assault on the tongue. Yet Owen watched him grimace through it, his mouth twitching into a small smile.

"Is this a thing for you?" Andy asked before his brain had caught up to his words.

"What?"

"The watching thing." He gestured at the bag with the fork. "Looking at me eat. Does it do anything for you?"

Owen paused, licked his lips - rough as it was without saliva- and sighed. "Sort of. It's easier to imagine what it'd taste like when I see you react. I can remember the taste, so it triggers a similar response. Like phantom pains but with taste." He took a chip and bit into it. Nothing. Despite all the spices on it, his tongue didn't send a single signal. "Tell me how it tastes."

"Well, it's got a lot of vinegar." Andy grimaced while taking yet another chip. "A lot, a lot, actually, and salt and it's," - Andy fanned himself with his hands like that would cool down his tongue before taking a long swig from his water bottle - "ooh!, spicier than I thought."

"God, it sounds terrible," Owen scoffed. "And I bloody miss it." His head against the headrest, he closed his eyes and ended up spitting the half-chewed chip onto a napkin. "Miss being watched, too, though."  

"Being watched?" Andy frowned. "Eating, you mean? I didn't know that was a thing. Is that why you're asking me to-"

"Not eating. Well, not eating chips," He replied with a short, derisive laugh. "No, I mean sex," Owen answered flatly.

Andy choked on the chip he'd just set in his mouth, answering with just a cough.

"Used to get such a thrill from it, you know, eyes on me, the threat of getting caught. I found a flat with massive windows and the things we did there…" He stretched with a low grumble, moving uncomfortably on the seat, spreading his legs for a hard-on that wasn't there. "God, I miss wanking."

Andy still struggled to breathe through the piece lodged in his throat, his face red from more than the lack of oxygen. "What?"

"Sex, Andy. Ever had it?" He turned to look at his companion, leaning towards the cop to continue in a terrible stage whisper. "You know, the pressure of the blood rushing down, the heat of the bodies." - Their faces were so close; if Owen breathed, Andy would feel it on his cheeks. - "Fuck, I even miss the bloody sweat and stickiness of it all." He let out another groan. "Do I need to spell it out more?"

"No!" Finally, the last cough dislodged the piece in his throat but Andy was left staring at Owen, mouth agape. "So you can't…?" He gestured at Owen's lap, hoping he didn't need to specify further.

"No blood, no boner, Andy," Owen answered like it was obvious.

"Right, well, good to know." Andy avoided Owen's eyes. His fists were tight around the plastic bag that was (lucky for him) covering the way Owen's unexpected monologue had stirred him.

"Owen Harper: no longer allowed to shag," Owen continued, a hand through his hair, unaware of his companion. "Sometimes, I think this deal wasn't bloody worth it, mate."

"What deal?" Andy's voice was almost a whimper.

"Not being bloody dead, that's what." Owen sighed then patted Andy's knee. "But then I wouldn't have met you otherwise, eh?"

Andy stared at the hand like it was burning - quite the opposite to reality - and he found Owen's eyes had trailed down to his lips, glowing from all the spices they had dumped on the poor chips.

"No, I guess not." Andy gave an awkward chuckle. He almost bit his tongue but there was a question pressing insistently against his mind - and trousers. "So, if I can do the eating thing to help you remember taste and all that, couldn't we do something similar?"

It took a moment for Andy's words to soak into Owen's brain and when he finally caught onto the implication, he laughed with an impressed smirk. "PC Andy Davidson, you're still full of surprises!"

"Is that a no?" he asked, full of worry.

"No," Owen chuckled. God, when Andy looked at him like that, with open lips and wide puppy eyes, it was impossible to resist. "But not here." He looked at the empty street. Usually, he wouldn't mind. He'd had more than his fair share of car sex back when he could. But Andy deserved better than a quick wank in a car filled with the scent of fried batter and vinegar. "How long does this shift run?"

1 Really, Owen shouldn't be here; they weren't allowed to bring friends to stakeouts - or generally in the car. But when Owen turned up that first time with a pack of crisps and an energy drink, well, so long as no one saw, Andy supposed they would be fine. And if they ever asked (which no one had yet, despite this being a common occurrence by now), Andy was ready to pull the Torchwood card. He so rarely got to use it. [ ▲ ]

2 Benny's was Andy's favourite chippy. If it weren't because he used to live in that same building during his time at the academy, he might have never found it. If you asked anyone else, they'd chalk his preference up to nostalgia - the food isn't good enough to understand his love for it otherwise. [ ▲ ]