Jack was halfway through his shower when he was aware of movement in the room behind him.  It may have been very early in the day, but not too early for Ianto, he knew.  His anticipation, along with a certain body part, rose.

“You have the most magnificent arse known to mankind,” came a good-humoured Welsh voice seconds later as a towel was set where Jack could more easily reach it.

“Want to get in here in and enjoy the magnificence in close-up?” Jack offered, disappointed yet not surprised when Ianto vanished as magically as he’d appeared.

Hence his amazement when a slim, naked body joined him and pressed against his back, lips trailing a meandering line of kisses over his shoulders and up his neck as hands cupped and squeezed his buttocks.

“Magnificent.”  Ianto’s tone was husky with desire, a slow grind against Jack’s hot, wet body bringing both their cocks to full hardness in seconds.  “Enjoy, you say?”

“Uh-huh,” Jack confirmed, all smart comebacks lost in the light of this astonishing development.

Ianto’s hands slid up and over Jack’s hips, around his waist, fingertips brushing over Jack’s stomach to make the muscles twitch beneath his touch; Jack squirmed against him.

“It’s so extraordinarily sexy when you do that.”

“Seven syllables,” Jack breathlessly joked.

Ianto ran his hands higher, the touches becoming a hold as he clutched Jack to him.

“Are we stupid to do this?” Ianto asked.  “Whenever we get closer it makes our next fight harder to deal with.”

“Maybe we won’t fight again.”

“Come off it, this is us.  And we’re unresolved.”

With a groan Jack grabbed Ianto’s hands and pushed them down, wrapping them around his erection.

“Can we just do this and worry about our stupidity later?  I’ve waited so long for you.”

“You feel nice,” Ianto murmured against Jack’s shoulder, eyes closed as he concentrated on reacquainting himself with Jack’s cock.

“You feel better.”

“There’s a challenge.”

Leaving one hand gently pumping, Ianto brought the other around to stroke Jack’s backside, one finger easing between the cheeks and teasing the sensitive flesh of Jack’s opening.

“I’ve missed you,” Jack moaned.  “Can’t wait.  Fuck me.”

“Didn’t exactly think this through, did I?”

“Huh?”

“No slick.”

“Don’t care, just…”

“Not a chance.”

“Use the shower gel.”

“And have you farting soap bubbles all day?”

“Ianto.”

“Forget it.  You’re not going to spend the day frothing at the arse.”

Jack twisted around and, hands cupping the back of Ianto’s skull, brought him into a passionate kiss as he backed him up against the wall of the shower, just beyond the reach of the spray.  Ianto comically whimpered into the kiss as his pleasantly warm back hit the unpleasantly cold tiles; he tried to get away from them, but Jack had him pinned just where he wanted him and Ianto wasn’t going anywhere.

Having thoroughly re-explored Ianto’s mouth his lips dropped to the prime erogenous zone that was Ianto’s neck; Ianto’s knees almost buckled as Jack nuzzled the firm flesh, and he suspected he’d be marked this time but didn’t really care, not when it felt this good.  His hand moved to the back of Jack’s head and held him in place.  Jack took the hint and stopped pretending to be careful, sucking and licking, teeth scraping gently as Ianto shivered in pleasure.

Ianto slid his hands over Jack’s shoulders, onto his biceps, loving the familiarity.

“This is right,” he murmured.  “Perfectly right.”

Jack lifted his head to meet Ianto eye-to-eye.

“Perfectly right?” he repeated softly.

Ianto was already shaking his head.

“Not now.  Don’t analyse everything I…”

“Are you going to find a way to dismiss this?”

“No,” Ianto promised, “that isn’t what I want,” and leant in to kiss Jack again.

His hands slipped down to manoeuvre Jack, to bring their cocks into direct contact, and they groaned lustily in unison as the grind resumed.

“Swear you’ll fuck me later,” Jack panted.

“Yes.”

“’Cause…need you.”

“I can’t last,” Ianto abruptly announced, breath hitching.  “Jack…”  Jack’s hand started to wriggle between them but Ianto knocked it away.  “Don’t need that.”

Purposefully undulating his hips, Jack dragged his erection over every inch of Ianto’s, marvelling at the too-rare expression of blissful abandon his actions evoked.

“I never forgot for a moment,” Jack whispered as he playfully teased Ianto’s swollen glans with his own.  “Not you.  Not how devoted I am to your body.  You have such a beautiful cock.  Look at us.”

Despite knowing it was lethal to his plans for lasting more than seconds longer, Ianto risked a peek down their bodies, at where they were now joined by glistening threads of pre-come.  He quickly looked away.

“Fuck.”

“Soon.  Can’t wait.  I’ve missed you, Ianto.  Didn’t matter where I was in the Universe you were there too, in my thoughts.  I’d touch myself and it was you, I’d work my fingers inside…”

Ianto tugged Jack closer, rutting against him as his hands returned to Jack’s backside and his fingertips indelicately probed; Jack made what was unquestionably the most sexual noise Ianto had ever heard and that was it, the last strands of his self-control unravelled and he was coming, powerfully and noisily, then they were both coming, Jack’s yell of triumph echoing around the tiled walls as their semen streaked and spattered their chests and bellies.

There followed a long moment of recovery, Jack leaning on Ianto, lips against his cheek.  Frightened to open his eyes.

“If I wake up now…  I’d rather be dead than wake up now.”

“Jack,” emerged on a breath, real Ianto, not a dream, and Jack very nearly wept with relief.

A few more languid minutes and Jack made himself stand upright, lazily peeling Ianto off the tiles and hugging him, conscious of Ianto more than holding him back, he was clinging to him in a very unlike-post-sex-Ianto way.

“You okay?” Jack asked quietly.

“Mmm.”

“Sure?”

Ianto nodded, but he didn’t ease his grip for a second.  Jack kidded him about being stuck together for the rest of the day if they didn’t wash, and gently coaxed Ianto to release him so they could, at least, get back under the water.  Ianto kept his head down, apparently watching as Jack’s hands rinsed away all trace of their encounter.

“How were you?  Last night?” Jack enquired, working hard at superficiality.

Ianto hesitated; when he spoke his voice was flat and empty.

“I managed.”

“You managed,” Jack repeated, unimpressed.  “Hear that sound?  That’s the sound of my heart breaking.”

“Don’t, Jack.  It wasn’t…” Ianto chose his words carefully, “…as bad as I’d feared.”

Jack brought Ianto’s face up, ostensibly to kiss him, but he got what he really wanted: he caught a glimpse of Ianto’s eyes, of what Ianto was trying his best to hide.  The dreams had been horrific and the young man was haunted.  In an awful instant Jack understood perfectly the reason for Ianto sharing his shower.  Sharing more.

“Did you whore yourself out to me for the sake of a little comfort?”

Ianto gave a slow shake of the head.

“You know I always want you.  Even when – especially when – I know I shouldn’t have you.”

“I don’t expect you to make this kind of sacrifice, not for…”

“No, Jack.  This wasn’t about what I talked myself into.  It’s more about what I couldn’t talk myself out of.”  Jack looked doubtful.  “You know,” Ianto smiled, “you really do have the most magnificent arse known to mankind.”

Unconvinced, Jack pulled him into a hard hug.

“In future I’m going to stay with you,” Jack grumbled.

“Maybe.”

Jack kissed him, and Ianto…clung.

“Consoling you and respecting you shouldn’t be mutually exclusive.”

“I missed you, Jack.”

After the amount of times Jack had said that to Ianto it was deeply moving to hear it reciprocated.

“Want to know something else?” Jack said.  Ianto shrugged.  “You don’t have to have sex with me to be held like this.  If you want it, you take it.”

Ianto was still and silent, hopefully processing that fact; Jack let himself believe that Ianto’s actions were borne out of desire rather than fear, and concentrated on enjoying this unforeseen intimacy.

…

Dry and semi-clad, Jack went to Ianto and ran a thumb over the lovebite on his neck.

“I think I just pissed up your leg and marked you as my territory.”

“Will my collar cover it?”

“Uh…maybe,” Jack said unconvincingly.

Ianto finished dressing, bullied his hair into its work style, and went on his way with a smile.  He looked like an absolute innocent, Jack thought.  That much hadn’t changed.  It didn’t seem to matter what you did with Ianto, afterwards he disappeared behind that butter wouldn’t melt guise and all that remained was the challenge of involving the young man in yet more debauchery, simply to see the façade crack.

…

The field team had an active morning, in and out, time and again.  Ianto surprised Jack by not asking to accompany them, even once, and welcoming them back each on each and every occasion with good humour and a magically self-perpetuating selection of refreshments.

Ianto’s relaxed mood did and didn’t cause Jack concern.  Ianto’s dreams must have been terrifying, but their closeness in the shower, his reassurances, appeared to have made up for some of that.  The lovebite was only just visible if an observer knew where to look, but Ianto was very aware of it, and Jack noticed him surreptitiously touch the area on several occasions.  Jack initially thought the touches were about Ianto feeling self-conscious over the mark, but he caught the young man staring at him several times, and Jack had the distinct impression that Ianto wasn’t looking for affection so much as looking for…strength?  Of course, Jack had no idea that to Ianto he represented survival, and he certainly had no idea how crucially important that made him after the kind of night Ianto had experienced.  Whatever was happening here, Jack didn’t have a clue how to offer Ianto anything he appeared to need.  All he could do was make himself as available as possible and trust that Ianto would take advantage of that.  Which, naturally, Ianto didn’t.

Under the circumstances it didn’t take much to turn Ianto’s mood around, and Jack was left wondering why he hadn’t seen it coming.

Gwen had decided that there had to be some kind of send-off party if Ianto was determined to leave them, and even if the idea was pursued with the finest of intentions, she was unwittingly pressing Ianto too hard about what was bound to be a traumatic upheaval.  Gwen, however, he was fond of and could tolerate.  The straw/camel’s back moment came courtesy of the usual suspect.

“Will your bloke come along if we have this farewell do?” Owen asked as Ianto handed him a cup of coffee mid afternoon.

“No.  We’ve broken up.”

“Oh, you’ve broken up.  That’s convenient,” Owen smiled knowingly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Now I can’t prove that he was a figment of your imagination, created to give Jack a run for his money.”

“Hardly,” Ianto snapped, fighting to restrain his temper.

“Or maybe…maybe he’s actually a special friend, courtesy of some online porn store.”

Ianto started to walk away.

“You’d know more about that than me.”

“It’d make a nice change for you.  Having someone you have to blow up rather than plug in.”

There was a crash as the empty tray was tossed aside, and a startled Toshiko and Gwen leapt to their feet at their respective work stations.

Ianto had Owen by the throat, his height advantage and the strength of the insanely angry ensuring that Owen practically left the ground as Ianto crashed him past desks and machinery and eventually thudded him into the Hub wall, knocking the air from his lungs and making him whoop for breath.

“I am due your respect,” Ianto growled.  “I have tolerated you, I have overlooked your gross ignorance, I have earned my place, I have saved your life, and I have saved your fucking job.  What does it take?  Do I have to squeeze the life out of you to shut you up?”

“Iant—” Owen croaked as his hands scrabbled at Ianto’s fists.

“Would you like to test run a few of my qualifications?  How about you give me an hour to make you disappear without a trace?”

Toshiko and Gwen were hovering helplessly on the outskirts of the fracas: they’d seen it all before and knew the pointlessness of trying to intervene.  Jack also took his time arriving, having come to the conclusion that this might be the only way Owen would learn not to goad people he didn’t understand.  It wasn’t exactly effortless to break Ianto away but, when he finally did, Jack dragged him into his office while Owen slid down the wall into a gasping heap to be tended by the less than sympathetic women.

Jack pushed Ianto into the chair and sat on his desk, effectively masking Ianto from the view of their colleagues.  Ianto’s hands were in fists on his knees, and he stared at their whitened knuckles.

“What happened?” Jack demanded to know.

“He’s an arse.”

“Okay, he’s an ass.  What happened?”

“I couldn’t take another of his comments about…well…  After last night—”

Ianto shook his head.

“You told me it wasn’t as bad as you’d expected.”

There was a difficult pause before Ianto responded, finally confirming Jack’s fears.

“I lied.  You know I lied.”

Jack considered the situation and hated feeling so torn.  But he was the boss right now and he knew that Ianto would resent him if he behaved like a doting boyfriend.

“How the hell do I discipline you?”

“Suspend me until the end of the week.  Then my transfer comes into effect and I’m London’s responsibility.”

“You want that?”

“No,” Ianto replied quietly.

“Okay.  If you want to stop this going any further you’ll have to apologise to Owen and mean it.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“And I need your word that you can get this under control.  We can’t be in the middle of an investigation and have Owen go missing, and the first thing I’m wondering is if you’re responsible.”

“I wouldn’t…”

“And I’m not convinced you’d tell me the truth if I asked.”

“Jack.”

“It’s not enough to looked stunned when I say that, Ianto, I need your absolute assurance.”

“You have it.”

“I’d better,” Jack said grimly.  “Or you’re out of here, London or no London.”

Ianto waited to see if that was all Jack had to say.  Apparently yes.  He rose.

“Can I go, Sir?”

“I feel wrong asking you to be civil to Owen because it seems genetically impossible for him to reciprocate, but no more violence.  And please, please apologise before I have to do something.”

Ianto paused at the door.

“I leave work on Friday, Cardiff on the sixteenth.  I’ll do my best not to…overreact beforehand.”

“Ianto…  What did you mean?”

“By…?”

“You said…  ‘I’ve saved your life, I’ve saved your job.’  Something like that.  The life I get, I’ve read most of the last year’s reports.  But his job?”

“A leftover from your absence.  Every time I did him a favour beyond the call of duty I’d tell him that.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Ianto shrugged.

“That’s up to you, Sir.  May I go?”

Jack waved him out, watching apprehensively as he went straight to Owen and moved in close for a private word.  Owen nodded, and they went up to the boardroom to talk in private.

Jack returned to his desk, settled at his computer, and started to call up all the cases from the time when he was absent with the Doctor.

…

In the boardroom, Ianto and Owen faced one another across the table.  The animosity was gone.  It was something they’d grown used to over the past ten months, these flashes of rage that exploded in a second and were exhausted within minutes.  Better out than in, Owen would say, in that rather disturbing, leering delivery of his.

“Jack is labouring under the misapprehension that I will apologise to you,” Ianto eventually said.

“Bit thick sometimes, isn’t he.”

Ianto threw a sharp look but Owen just questioningly raised his eyebrows.

“Yes,” Ianto agreed quietly.

Owen sat forward, gesturing for Ianto to do the same; he spoke softly.

“I want you to listen very carefully to what I have to say because it will never be repeated.”  Ianto looked at him in wary expectation.  “I am sorry if I went too far.”

“Fuck,” Ianto muttered, “now the world will end.”

Owen smiled.  This was the closest Owen could get to sympathetic and Ianto found it quite disconcerting.

“So…  You want to tell your doctor if his diagnosis was right?”

“What diagnosis?”

“PTSD.”  Ianto drew breath to launch a rebuttal, but the words wouldn’t come.  He felt utterly defeated.  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Owen continued, disturbingly the consummate professional, “and I can get you help, a counsellor you don’t have to pussy-foot around, someone who won’t repeat anything you tell them even if you’re planning to take over the world.”

“I only…  I can only seem to talk to Jack.”

“That’s not very healthy.  For either of you.”

“No,” Ianto admitted.

“Let me set something up for you, eh?  Get this sorted and then you can concentrate on killing me for the right reasons.”

Ianto gave a shallow nod.

“Is this your therapist?”

“Fuck off!  Like I need help.”  Meeting Ianto’s faintly lost gaze Owen gave him a rueful grin and nodded.  “You’ll love her.  She’s about hundred-and-ten, questionably human, and she’s madder than both of us put together.  Plus she’s unshockable, and believe me, I’ve tried.”

“You think this’ll help?”

“Yeah.  Go bloody berserk, but do it away from here and in private.  Then bring some sanity to this tip.”

They sat back in their chairs, sharing a look that raked through their troubled history.  Before long, Ianto sighed miserably and left.  Two minutes later Jack joined Owen.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.  He’s practised that hold so often he can do it now without leaving a mark.  Plus he waited until my neck wasn’t so sore.  He’s the perfect psychopathic gentleman.”

“Did you manage to come to any sort of compromise?” Jack asked.

“What, like he’s only going to attempt to throttle me on alternate Tuesdays?”

“Did he apologise?”

Owen stood and, hands buried in pockets, he rocked on his heels, so smug that Jack wanted to take a swing himself.

“That entire conversation is protected by doctor/patient confidentiality.”

Jack looked completely pissed off by that, much to Owen’s apparent satisfaction.

“Then let’s try a little something beyond that conversation.  How and why did he save your job?”

Owen gave a brief laugh.

“It was a long nine months, Jack.  You’d be hard pressed to find a single week when at least one of ‘em didn’t save my job.”

Owen wandered away and Jack was left to consider that too amiable, too well-rehearsed reply.

…

Ianto was down in the archives.  R to T.  No sign of the ghost today and that was probably just as well: Ianto wasn’t convinced it knew the English alphabet and if it was around he was forever having to rearrange files, folders and artefacts that had mysteriously appeared in the wrong places.

Jack had been glad to get him out of Owen’s way, which delighted Ianto no end.  He could have done without the thinking time though.  Thinking.  He kept thinking.  He didn’t want therapy and he didn’t want Owen to help him.  He wanted to be over the past in one fell swoop, a magical transition that failed to incorporate any soul-baring or honesty.

He wanted to remember the people he cared about with joy rather than pain, but he didn’t want to go through any agonising processes to get there.  He didn’t want to talk to a stranger.  He could talk to Jack.  Although he didn’t really want to talk to Jack either, Owen’s reaction to that had simply confirmed what Ianto thought about it being damaging to them.  But very soon there wouldn’t be a them to damage.  Vienna would be a sexual free-for-all, the conclusion to a bawdy fantasy, and then life would drag on, Jack would forget he’d ever had stupid ideas about lo—  About lo—  Nope, Ianto still couldn’t go there.

Who in their right mind would want the responsibility of being loved?

“Ianto?”

Bugger, bugger, bugger.

“Here,” he called to Jack, despite the inner monologue.  “Raa to Rad.”

Jack appeared out of the stacks.

“CCTV is down in this area.”

“It’s the ghost.”  Jack stood and watched Ianto work in silence.  “Was there something you wanted, Sir?”

“No, I was just worried when I couldn’t find you.”

“Why worried?”

Jack shrugged and began to study the contents of the shelves with the air of a man biding his time.  Ianto smirked at the thought of Jack having to mentally fish around for the right words.

“Something happened, didn’t it?” he eventually asked, too casually.  “While I was gone.”

“You were gone for nine months, Jack, something was bound to happen.”

“And it’s being covered up.”

“No.”

“Where should I be looking?”

“You must’ve read the year’s caseload by now.  That’s it, that’s all there is.”

“Okay, you won’t tell me what to look at, so…  What would you prefer me not to look for?”

“Conspiracy?” Ianto offered.  “Before both of us need a shrink.”

Jack turned to him wearing a deep frown.

“A psychiatrist?  You don’t need a psychiatrist.  Do you?”

“Owen’s making an appointment for me with a therapist.”

The frown turned to surprise.

“Is that what you want?”

“No.  But it might be what I need.  That doesn’t make the prospect any more palatable though.”

“You know you can always talk to me.”

“Yes.  In principle.  But I can’t talk to you about you.”

“You can.”

Ianto shook his head and moved along, locating Rie to Ros and starting work there.  Jack followed.

“I hate the thought of it,” Ianto continued, “but I think I have to try.  It works for a lot of people, doesn’t it.”

“Is this what you talked about with Owen?”  Ianto nodded, and that gave Jack pause for thought: maybe he had mistaken Owen’s respect for Ianto’s privacy for something more sinister.  And while he was thinking of Owen…  “You really went for him today.”

“That was nothing, I’m ashamed to say.”

“He said as much, or rather he alluded.”

Ianto slowed in his work as he thought.

“I think that time I shot him caused more of a problem than it solved.  It sort of…erased a line that shouldn’t be overstepped.”

“I can see how that could happen.  It’s pretty dangerous territory.”

“I know.  And Owen knows.  But he doesn’t seem to care.  He’ll deny it but I think he still has a death wish.  I also think he dislikes me enough to want me to destroy my life by fulfilling it for him.”

“I hope you’re wrong.”

“The therapist I’m to see is his.  I have no scruples whatsoever about dropping this subject into the conversation and naming names.  Let her deal with it.”

“It might help you both.”

“He’s never got over Diane, you realise.  I think she broke more than his heart.”

“Perhaps you could mention that to his therapist too.”

“Perhaps.  Meanwhile, you have my word I’ll show some restraint.  If for no other reason than I hate to put you in the position of—  Y’know, I can read your mind.  The moment I said about putting you in a position…”

Jack laughed.

“Guilty as charged.”

“My mental health being in no way as important as you meeting your shagging quota.”

“Not true,” Jack insisted, suddenly serious.

“It’s all right, I know, I’m just kidding.”

“Have you any idea how much I care about you?”

“I don’t want to know.”

That stung, Ianto could see it in Jack’s eyes, but what was he supposed to say?  Uncomfortable now under Jack’s scrutiny, he worked, wishing Jack would go.

“Tonight…” Jack began cautiously.

“What about it?”

“You promised.”

It took Ianto a few seconds for the ‘fuck me later’ reference to drop into place.

“I didn’t exactly promise.”

“That isn’t how I remember it.”

“I don’t even know how we got here!” Ianto exclaimed in sheer exasperation.

“You made the move.  Not a move, not like one of mine.  But the move.  Just like the first time around.”

Ianto took a moment out to mentally curse both his stupidity and his sense of honour.

“All right then,” he finally agreed.  “If I promised.  Tonight.  Will you be coming home with me or just turning up when you feel like it?”

“What do you want?”

“I’d rather we made a night of it than be treated like a convenience.”

“Ow, Ianto, ow, ow, ow!”

Ianto threw down his files and turned to Jack with an unfocused apologetic gesture.

“Sorry.”

“I may have deserved that once but…”

“Sorry.”  Quickly to Jack, Ianto cupped his face and gave him a rapid kiss.  “Sorry.”

Jack’s hands found their way into Ianto’s jacket and around his waist.

“I didn’t realise you were so unhappy.”

“I’m not, I’m…  I don’t know.”

“Do you regret what happened in the shower?”

“I…  No.”  Ianto irritably shook his head.  “I just…”

“I loved every second of that.  I want more.”

“Yes, but…  Shit,” Ianto finished under his breath.

“Shall I take pity on you?” Jack asked unhappily.  “Suggest we leave it tonight?”

“I do want you.”

“You want bits of me.”

“I want too much of you,” Ianto corrected, “and I can’t – we can’t…”  Ianto forced himself to a halt and searched for what he wanted to say.  “Jack…  Any more and…we’d have to talk.”

“Then let’s talk.”

“What’s the point if I’m going?”

“Don’t go.”

“I’m going.”

They kissed, soundly and sadly.  Jack finally went away, and Ianto knew he wouldn’t be seeing him that night.

…

At a quarter to two in the morning, Ianto was jerked out of his thankfully dreamless sleep by his phone ringing.  He immediately answered, finding himself not listening to Jack, but to the sound of pounding music.

“Ianto…” Jack caroused over the top of the noise.  “Iaaaaanto…”

He sounded drunk again, and Ianto didn’t like that one little bit.

“What?  Have you seen the time?”

“Damn, kinda lost track.”

“Where are you?  Do you need me to…”

“No, hey, listen.  This is the extent to which I value your opinion.  I have a choice.  There’s a burly, blond rugby player who I think will probably drill me through the wall.  Or a sweet little redhead, inexperienced, but I imagine with a bit of persuasion he’d take it like a dream.  Who do I choose?”

Feeling positively sick, Ianto broke the connection and switched off the phone before Jack could call back.

Five minutes later he was dressed and putting on his headset, turning the phone back on and calling Jack.

“Jack.  Where are you?”

“Exit.”

“I’ll come and pick you up.”

“You’re going to come for me?”  Jack groaned at his more personal interpretation.  “I love it when you come for me, have I told you that?”

“Not recently.”

“I could tell you tonight.  Make you.”

The background noise lessened.

“Where are you going?” Ianto asked as he climbed into his car.

“I’m in the street.”

“Keep walking in my direction.  I’ll find you.”

“You actually want to?”

“Surprisingly, yes.”

Ianto drove to Charles Street and found Jack propped against a lamppost and in conversation with a brawny blond man, presumably the rugby player, who was very much in Jack’s personal space.  The car screeched to a halt beside them and the blond retreated as Ianto emerged, his expression evidently intimidating enough to send the guy packing.

“Bye,” Jack called amiably after him before turning to Ianto.  “That’s not a happy face, my beautiful Ianto.”

“Get in the car.”

“In the back?  I’d like to christen the back.”

“Get in the car.”

Ianto pointedly held the door open for him.

“Mmm, feisty,” Jack grinned, and collapsed into the passenger seat.

Back behind the wheel, Ianto took a moment to calm himself before starting the short drive home.  Jack chatted away about nothing in particular while Ianto silently fumed.  Once inside his front door, Ianto ran upstairs, and Jack stumbled after him.

“Ianto…  Sweetie…”

“Don’t call me that.”

Ianto was halfway back to bed, jacket and jumper already off, and Jack headed straight for the tempting flesh on show.  Ianto shoved him away and Jack blinked in semi-inebriated surprise.

“Yan?”

“And never call me that.”

“It’s affectionate,” Jack explained.

“I know.  But it reminds me of who I gave up for this.”  The sentence ended on a distinct sneer, and Jack flinched.  “What you did was cruel, Jack.  If you’re going to fuck someone else just do it, eh?  Don’t taunt me with it.”

“I wasn’t going to fuck anyone but you tonight.”

“You said…”

“Whatever I could think of to make you come and fetch me.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“What does it matter?  You know me, Ianto.  I have this reputation, but nowadays that’s all it is.  The stories are old, the rep is old, there are no new stories.  You know me.  You know that.”

“Why?” Ianto asked, curiosity overcoming his irritation.

“Can I answer that when I’m sober?”

“You’re sounding sober already.”

“I’m not.  Quite.”

“Doesn’t take long though.  Is it worth the effort of drinking?”

Jack smiled glumly.

“Not really.  But…  I wish there was something better to take the edge off.”

It felt like an impasse; Ianto gave up.

“Drink plenty of water.  And brush your teeth.”  He herded Jack from the room.  “If I’ve fallen asleep by the time you get to bed, don’t wake me up.”

“Don’t—  Y’mean…  No sex?”

“No.”

“Ianto.”

“You should have thought of that before you pissed me off.”

“I’ll go back out.”

“Fucking go then!” Ianto shouted as the last of his composure finally unravelled.  “Make this the end, make this the bloody end, and leave me alone!”

“You mean that?” Jack asked, suddenly unsure.

“You’re driving me insane, do you not see?  All the time you were gone, I was desperate for you to come back, but you’ve cost me everything.  You don’t care enough to think twice before you do or say the things that affect me, you don’t care that I gave up someone I could actually trust, you don’t care that I have to leave Cardiff and go back to somewhere that terrifies me…”

“I do care.  But they’re your decisions.”

Ianto gave a bitter laugh.

“How perfectly, elegantly simple for you.”

Ianto watched as Jack methodically removed every stitch he was wearing, leaving his clothes in heaps on the landing.

“I want the hangover,” Jack told Ianto as he went into the bathroom.  “But I’ll brush my teeth.”

Wondering why he bothered, Ianto changed into an old t-shirt and well-worn pair of pyjama bottoms and, hoping his neck to ankle attire would deliver Jack an unsubtle hint, fell into bed, weary, miserable and emotionally frustrated.  When Jack joined him, Ianto turned his back, but Jack cuddled up regardless.

“Sorry,” Jack whispered.

Ianto let himself be held, but Jack could feel how difficult it was for him to relax.

“My decisions,” Ianto agreed, his tone now deliberately impassive.  Not for the first time, Jack wished he could read Ianto’s extraordinarily complicated mind.  His own head was slowly clearing, but he still couldn’t find anything more intelligent to say than the obvious.

“Don’t go.  No-one wants you to leave, not even you.”

“Can you sleep?”

“I don’t know.”

“Try.”

Jack nuzzled Ianto’s neck.

“I won’t do it again.  What I did tonight.  I’m sorry, I don’t always think.  I’m used to manipulating people to get what I want.”

“Try to sleep.  We’ll talk later.”

“If we wait much longer, later will be too late.”

“Go to sleep.”

It took Ianto a long time to follow his own advice, and sleep didn’t seem achievable until he semi-consciously pushed Jack away from him.  Jack rolled onto his back and stared in the direction of the ceiling, eventually sober (if heavy-headed), thinking about what he’d done to Ianto since his return and barely able to acknowledge his stupid behaviour.  What the fuck had he hoped to achieve tonight?  His only consolation was that Ianto must love him to some degree if he was prepared to put up with all this nonsense.

In the midst of his bewildering self-analysis, Jack heard the slightest whimper from Ianto, and it was the perfect excuse to stop rehashing and condemning his recent actions.  Before any bad dreams could take hold, he gave Ianto’s shoulder a gentle shake, enough to bring the young man around and firmly into Jack’s waiting arms.  No more than half-awake, Ianto clung to Jack as desperately as he had in the shower, his grip hard and biting, albeit only fractionally as painful physically as it was emotionally.

“Wet shoes,” he groaned.  “Red shoes.”

“It’s over, you’re safe,” Jack promised amidst the shushing and cuddling, whispering again and again, “You’re safe,” and vowing to keep Ianto that way, whatever it took.

Attrition 23       Attrition Index       Attrition Notes

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