Author's Notes:
This one is entirely the fault of missthingsplace, who happened to mention that the word Snickered made her think that someone was attacked by a Snickers bar… Of course, my brain just had to take that thought and run with it. So, here it is – a quadruple drabble.

Warnings: Eating or drinking while reading is not advised.

Summary: Jack has to head to the rescue when the rest of the team find themselves in a sticky situation.

The team had headed to the shops, investigating a Rift alert. Jack had followed soon after, listening on comms. as he drove. The sounds he heard were disturbing.

“What the Hell’s happening?”

Ianto’s voice came through clearly.

“The chocolate is revolting!”

“Why? What's wrong with it?”

“It's revolting! Gwen's under attack by a horde of Snickers Bars, Owen is trying to fend off the Curly Wurlies, Tosh is in a pitched battle with some Twix... They’re twice the trouble!”

“What about you?”

“Aero is not as light and fluffy as you might think!”

“I’m on my way!”

“You’d better hurry!”


When Jack arrived, joining the fray, he found himself pelted by a hail of Maltesers, so ducked to safety behind a nearby shelf. He had a feeling his trusty Webley would be useless in this situation. Ianto crawled over to join him. He had chocolate smeared all over his face. Jack resisted the temptation to lick it off. Now was not the time.

“Any idea what’s causing this?” he asked as Ianto swung a French stick like a baseball bat, sending a small army of chocolate bars flying across the shop to collide with the wall.

“Alien tech, what else?”


It had been a stupid question, Jack reflected. When it came down to it, alien tech was behind most of Torchwood’s more unusual problems. Whatever fell through the Rift had apparently animated everything containing chocolate, and the sweet treats clearly weren’t too happy with humans.

Jack couldn’t remember ever being bitten by a Yorkie before. Not the chocolate kind anyway. He stamped on the chocolate bar in retaliation then wished he hadn’t. It was like stamping on a rock.

“How do we fight confectionary?”

“With fire!” snarled Owen, lighter in one hand, aerosol can in the other. “Melt
the suckers!”


The rest of the team armed themselves and went to work, spraying everything that moved with flaming liquid. Soon, floor and shelves were littered with pools of melted chocolate and toffee; nuts and biscuit pieces crunched underfoot as the sought the cause of the mayhem.

Finding it was almost anticlimactic; it looked like nothing more than a gaily-painted Easter egg, but Tosh’s scanner confirmed it as the radiation source.

It exploded in a very satisfying manner when Jack shot it.

“I never want to see another chocolate,” said Gwen, picking peanuts out of her hair.

The others had to agree.

The End