Ianto was up bright and early, ready for work before Jack sighed and stretched and tipped himself out of bed.

“Stay here,” Ianto told him, many times, in many voices, from orders to pleas.  Nothing succeeded, naturally.  The bed was full of shed Dermabond fragments, and Jack considered himself healed, fit and ready for the Hub.

They were at work well before anyone else and, as Jack checked what they’d missed the previous day, Ianto got to work tidying the place, surprised that there’d obviously been some effort made in his absence to wash mugs and leave rubbish in proximity to the bins.

When their colleagues arrived Jack was fussed over by the women, and given a wary nod by Owen.  Jack tracked Ianto down to the kitchen and, over a shared breakfast, confirmed that Owen had been told that Jack knew about Talygdowen.  Jack then decided that he would personally hand out the first round of coffees.

“You’re evil,” Ianto told him, knowing exactly what Jack was up to, but it didn’t wipe the smile off either face.

“Owen.  For you,” Jack placed Owen’s preferred mug, filled with Owen’s preferred brew, slap bang in the middle of the paperwork the doctor was pretending to concentrate on.

Owen peered at his drink, then looked to Jack, to his drink, and back to Jack.

“Where’s Ianto?”

“Busy.”

“Did he make this?”

“Yes.  It’s your favourite.”

Owen stared at his coffee accusingly.

“Let’s just get this over with, eh?”

“Over with?” Jack asked innocently.

“I’m not touching that until we’ve talked.”

“’Kay,” Jack shrugged, selecting the boardroom as their venue and briskly ascending the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” Toshiko stage-whispered from her work station.

“Talygdowen,” Owen told her with a suitably grim expression.

“Oh.”

“Yes.  Oh.”

Toshiko gestured vaguely to Owen’s coffee.

“He hasn’t…?”

“D’know.”

Sitting back in her seat, Toshiko carefully pushed her own drink aside.

“Good luck.”

“He’ll understand.”

“He unconsciously guards Ianto.  Let’s hope that, consciously…”

“Thank you very much.  Just what I needed.”

“Owen,” Jack’s voice bellowed out from above, all trace of congeniality gone.  “Now.”

…

Toshiko found Ianto in the Tourist Office.  He was on the phone, and she couldn’t help overhearing his conversation with his estate agent, taking his house off the market.

“Does this mean you’re staying?” she asked the moment Ianto hung up, unable to hide her delight.

“No, it means that Jack will take the house on.  He hasn’t absolutely agreed, but it’s obvious, isn’t it?  He needs somewhere away from here.”

“I thought…  Never mind.”

Ianto gave her a kind smile which she couldn’t quite return.

“Jack and Owen?” he asked.

“Talking.  Owen thinks Jack tried to RetCon him.”

“No, he’s just playing with him.”

“Does that mean all the coffee’s safe?”

“He wouldn’t do that, Tosh.”  She looked doubtful.  “Unless his coat is anything less than perfect again,” Ianto joked.  “I’ll go and get it.  Do you have the ticket?”

Toshiko indicated to where a gonk was sitting on the dry cleaner’s voucher.

“But it might not be ready.”

“I’ll see.”

It was an excuse for Ianto to get out.  Despite the glaring winter sunshine he felt the cold sink deep into his flesh as he took a slow stroll to the cleaners, long way around, using the time to think about Jack, and his house, and Cardiff.  London.  Canary Wharf.  Not that Torchwood One was back at Canary Wharf, this time they’d set up shop beneath Battersea Power Station.  Canary Wharf would be a pilgrimage, a singular event.

He was leaving the past behind, he could feel it.  Time and Jack had each played a part and he was healing, and it was…partly an ache, partly numb.  His guilt over Lisa was the most difficult thing to deal with.  Jack had noticed her photographs were all packed away and had mentioned it in passing; it was obvious he’d thought it a temporary measure due to the move, but he’d still commended Ianto on his bravery.  If anyone understood how gut-wrenching it was to finally let the past go it was Jack.

Jack.

Loving Lisa, being loved, had been a wonderful experience: why was loving Jack more so painful?  Why was the thought of Jack genuinely loving him back enough to tie his guts in knots?

Ianto found himself at the row of shops he needed and made a quick call in at the cleaners.  They knew him as a very regular customer but he wasn’t in the mood to make small talk; he hoped he didn’t appear too rude in a bid to get away.

Back outside he made a call.

“Jack, it’s me.”

“Where are you?”

“Dry cleaners.”

“You okay?” Jack asked, an automatic response to the flatness of Ianto’s tone.

“Yes, but I don’t want to come back yet.  I’m cold.  D’you mind if I wear your coat?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

Ianto could hear the smile in Jack’s voice and all at once he felt like crying.

“I won’t be long.”

“Would you like some company?”

“Not yet.  But, when I get back…I think we need to talk.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“I—  I’ll be back soon, don’t RetCon anyone, and stop intimidating the staff.”

Jack laughed.

“I was nice to Owen.”

“Scary nice?”

“Maybe.”

Now Ianto was smiling too: Jack’s scary nice was scarier than most people’s scary scary.

“If there are any emergencies, let the others handle them.”

“You gotta be kidding.  After what I just told Owen?”

“I thought you were nice.”

“I didn’t garrotte him, what else do you want?”

“I want our un-garrotted doctor to check you over.”

“But I’m well.”

“Humour me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want company?”

“Stop changing the subject.”

“But…”

“I’ll see you soon.”

Ianto switched his phone off and put it in his pocket.  Then he stared at the greatcoat for a moment before tearing off the polythene and removing the metal hanger, carefully disposing of both in a nearby litter bin.  It was a big deal, Jack’s coat, and donning it was almost a rite of passage.  Under the circumstances – their circumstances – if he wore it back to the Hub it would be as good as sending out engraved invitations.

But, when all was said and done, it was just a coat, and it was warm and Ianto was cold.  He slid it on and, while semi-consciously regretting that the scent of Jack had been dry-cleaned away, examined it closely.  The invisible mending was, once again, invisible, masterfully done, which was why Ianto used this cleaners rather than any other.  One day, he suspected, the coat would be found to be nothing more than invisible mending, but he wouldn’t be there to see it.  He’d be long gone and Jack would be…exactly as Jack was.  An obvious, should-be-throwaway thought gave Ianto the first flash of real understanding, to be catalogued under the heading of, What It’s Like To Be Jack Harkness.  Empathy struck, full force, and all Ianto could do was let his heart bleed for Jack’s countless, unnamed losses.

He walked to the bay, to the seat where he and Jack had sat and talked about…  What had they talked about?  All Ianto could really remember was the feel of his hand in Jack’s, keeping warm in the pocket of this coat.

Ianto retrieved his phone from his pocket and turned it on.  He texted Jack:

‘xxx’

‘Come back,’ came the response.

Ianto wondered if he was needed because of work, or if Jack wanted him where he could be protected.  The animosity that thought usually engendered was consumed by his unbidden insight into What It’s Like To Be Jack Harkness, and all that was left was sitting and freezing as he stared into the horizon, or making coffee and answering mail and finding the right moment to talk to Jack.  Or avoiding the wrong moment, which was equally as crucial.

The phone rang and he answered without checking the caller ID.

“Yes, Jack?”

“Are you coming in yet?  If we get called out I’d like my coat.”

“Is that the best excuse you can come up with?”

“No.  Yes.  Sorry.”

Ianto smiled.

“I’m on my way.”

Outside the Tourist Office, Ianto removed Jack’s coat and draped it innocuously over his arm.

…

There were no calls, not much of anything really.  Quiet days were rare, and good, and ultimately very, very boring.  Early afternoon, Jack offered his employees the afternoon off for Christmas shopping then, with questionable magnanimity, virtually threw them out of the Hub whether they wanted to leave or not.  Except for Ianto, naturally.  Who felt they needed to talk.

Jack waited in the boardroom, knowing Ianto would show up when he was ready and probably when Jack wasn’t, because Jack suspected the very worst, and he’d never be quite ready enough for that.

When Ianto arrived he was bearing a tray: two mugs, a plate of chocolate biscuits, and a large, sealed envelope.

“What’s that?” Jack asked suspiciously.  “You enjoyed resigning so much you’re making it a monthly event?”

Ianto handed over the envelope and placed Jack’s coffee and the biscuits alongside him.

“It’s only a card,” Ianto assured him.  “And you were warned about the mood I was in, so you might want to brace yourself.”

Jack ripped into the envelope with childlike verve, studying the card with an expression of gloomy smugness.  Hearts, glitter, sentimentalised cartoon bunnies walking hand-in-hand through the snow, precisely as Ianto had threatened, but Jack was afraid to look inside at the message.

“Thanks and so long?” he enquired, unable to force any kind of lightness into his voice.

“Thanks, certainly,” Ianto corrected.  “What did Owen say?  Is he pleased with how you’ve healed?”

“Talk, or small talk?”

“I’m genuinely interested.”

“Okay.  I’m fine.  I don’t need Owen to tell me that.”

“Jack…”

“Talk to me, Ianto.”

Ianto wasn’t about to be rushed.  He sipped his tea and gestured for Jack to drink his coffee.

“Where are the Harkness heroics now?  Don’t look so worried.”

“Aren’t you?” Jack challenged, wondering if that was a good sign or a bad one.

Ianto thought about it.

“A bit.”

“Great.”

Jack drank his coffee, and alternated between breaking biscuits into crumbs, and fiddling with the card that he still couldn’t open.

Tea finished, Ianto stood and went to stare out over the body of the Hub.

“Do you remember the day we first met?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jack grinned despite his anxiety.

“I shocked myself that day.  Took one look at you, saw the interest in your eyes, and…  I’d been feeling so intensely alone, it was all the encouragement I needed to start thinking about you in all the wrong ways.”

“Not wrong.”

“How could it not have been wrong?  There was Lisa.  I wanted Lisa, I wanted her to be the way she was.  I wanted our life back.”

“That didn’t make your interest in me wrong.”

“It was a betrayal of the woman I loved.”  Ianto took a long, deep breath and jaggedly exhaled as his past misery rushed in to greet him.  “I was desperate for help, and I wanted to tell you about her.”  Ianto turned around and met Jack’s eyes.  “There were times when I was…rational, I suppose you’d call it, when I could see what I’d done.  How stupid I’d been.  How pitiless.  I wanted to tell you, Jack, I needed help to stop the insanity I’d started by bringing her here.  But this little voice inside me, this demon, kept insisting that if I told you it would be so you’d…deal with it, you’d make it go away, her go away, and that…  I was scared that if I told you, it would be because I knew the truth, that my Lisa was gone forever.  I loved her with all my heart, but I was lonely and kept thinking of you, and…if I told you the truth it might have been because I wanted Lisa – what used to be Lisa – gone so I could have you with a clear conscience.”

“That’s not you.  That’s fear.”

Ianto shook his head and turned back to the window.

“I adored her.  But in the end I was terrified of her.  More so of myself.  God help me, the cruelty I inflicted upon her.  By the time Doctor Tanizaki arrived I didn’t know myself any more.  What I was capable of.”

“Ianto…”

“Capable of betraying you both, I soon learnt that much.  Hated it.  Hated me.  Hated you, Lisa, hated this whole damnable existence.  I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve wished you’d pulled the trigger.”

Jack slowly rose and went to Ianto, waiting for a moment to see if he’d be rejected.  Apparently not.  With slow, careful actions, he gathered Ianto to him, and Ianto resentfully gave himself over.

“I remember the day we first met,” Jack whispered as he rocked.  “I remember…  A very handsome young man, who I straightaway had to remind myself was here to work, not to be fantasised about.  He was quiet.  Able.  Dignified.  Seriously over-qualified.  So obviously out-of-bounds, and…  I wanted him.”  Jack nuzzled into Ianto’s hair, pressing a kiss to his scalp.  “I never stopped wanting him.  Whatever the circumstances, I will never accept that you were wrong to want me back.”

For a while Ianto let himself be consoled, but eventually he disentangled himself and, gently but firmly, pushed Jack away, needing to break all contact so he could think straight.  He wandered around the table.

“When I considered drugging Bryn, what made up my mind…”  Ianto paused, catching an uneasy breath.  “He told me he…  He said he was in love with me and I didn’t doubt for a moment that he meant it.  It was a shock.  It was…a thrill.  I never imagined anyone would ever say that to me again.”

“You deserve it.”

“I didn’t want it to be him saying it,” Ianto hoarsely confessed.  Jack was with Ianto in a second, but as he drew breath to speak, slim fingers touched his lips to silence him.  “Please don’t.  I’m afraid that this time I might believe you.”

With a flick of his head, Jack shook off Ianto’s fingers.

“Ianto…believe it,” Jack said, voice thick with sincerity.  “I…”

This time Ianto stopped the words with a kiss, desperate and clumsy and sweet.  It lasted just long enough to quieten Jack.  Ianto took a deep breath and continued with what needed to be said.

“I’ve arrived at a very troubling point in my life.  I feel that the only person I can be loyal to is you, and I don’t like it.”

“Nothing’s that simple.”

“But it isn’t simple, not at all, and it feels…  I feel wrong.  But I’m not wrong.”

Ianto hugged Jack hard; Jack held him back, feeling the tension beneath his hands and suspecting that nothing he could say would make matters any worse.  So, he finally asked what he was desperate to know.

“Do you love me?”

Ianto nodded against him, but immediately contradicted himself with a spoken,

“No.”

“Which?”

“I mean…yes, but…  It’s more than love.  I’ve known love and what I feel for you is more.  Ever since Lisa…”  Ianto pulled back to see Jack’s face.  “It wasn’t Lisa.”  Jack shook his head and Ianto looked thankful and relieved.  “Ever since she…it…  It killed me, didn’t it?  It killed me and you brought me back, and ever since then there’s been…I can’t describe it.  I don’t know what you did to me.  I don’t even know if it was right or wrong for you to do it.”

Jack remembered kissing the life into Ianto, touching his face, his throat, sliding his hand onto Ianto’s chest in order to feel his heart pound.

“I had to bring you back.”

“I do understand that, and I’m not reading any great romantic significance into it.  There were certain things you had to know and you weren’t going to get them from a corpse, not even with that bloody glove.”

“I’m not sure my motives were quite that clinical.”

“Anyhow you brought me back and from that moment on I felt something for you, something special.  I’d’ve had to, wouldn’t I?  To leave Lisa behind so fast.”

“Ianto…  If we care for one another, what’s the problem?”

For a moment it looked as if Ianto was going to leave: he crossed as far as the door, even had his fingers on the handle before he stopped dead.  As fast as he’d moved to go, he came back to Jack, hands cupping the back of Jack’s head as he pulled him into a fraught kiss.

“Say it, Jack.”

“I love you.  I can, at last, love you.”

“Shit.”

“Thanks,” Jack couldn’t help laughing.  He slid his hands around Ianto’s waist and brought their bodies fully together, reminding Ianto of just how nicely they fit.  “I love you,” he promised, kissing Ianto until the man once again pulled away.  Ianto backed off, gazing longingly at him.

“What did you do to me, Jack?  That first kiss.”

“Nothing more than…wake you up.”

“But…the way I’ve been feeling…”

“Any possibility that the way you’ve been feeling is simply about the way you feel?”

“Fucking hell, I scare myself,” Ianto admitted in a whisper.  “I’d die for you, Jack, without a second thought.”

“Don’t…”

“I accept that.  What I find harder to accept – impossible – is that…I’d kill for you.  I’m not talking about aliens or genuine threats, just…for you.  Because of you.  Twice now I could’ve killed Owen.  It wasn’t that he wouldn’t listen to me about opening the Rift, about the danger, it was because he was defying you.  And after you’d gone, he was so callous about you, so coarse…  If Tosh had slower reflexes, if she hadn’t hit my arm when she did, he’d be dead.”

“All joking aside, that may just be Owen.  God knows I’ve been tempted to kill him myself before now.  Today’s a prime example.”

“What if it were Tosh?  Or Gwen?  If they were critical enough of you, or disparaging, or…I don’t know what it would take.  I do know that if Bilis Manger hadn’t sent Lisa to me, if I hadn’t been a part of that betrayal, they’d be dead now, and you wouldn’t have needed to give me so much as a nod, let alone an order.  I don’t know how much of a danger to them I am, Jack, and I’m scared that one day I’ll find out.  Really scared.  I have to get away from you.”

“Okay, I understand your concerns, and I completely understand the fear, I’m certainly not dismissing any of that.  I also know that it’s going to sound as if I’m twisting everything to suit myself, but I think it will be easier for you to deal with that if we’re together.  If it is something I instilled in you when I brought you back, I doubt that it’s going to go away, even if we’re two-hundred miles apart.”

“One-hundred-and-fifty,” Ianto automatically corrected.

“If we’re together I can keep you calm, reassured.  Apart, and what’s to say you won’t hear a bit of gossip and come back, guns blazing, too irrational to stop and think before you fire?”

Ianto was already shaking his head.

“I’m too afraid.  I am personally responsible for the death of two people and I’ve never come to terms with that, I never will, I have to live with that on my conscience.  No more.”

“We can work this out.”

“Or so you think.  Until the morning you roll off a one night stand and I’m there putting a bullet between their eyes.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“I had to tell you before I left.  I didn’t want you to think I don’t care.  If anything I care too much.”

“You can’t seriously believe I’m going to let you walk away.  I don’t care how grudgingly it is, you love me, it’s what I came back for.”

“Shame you didn’t come back to watch me go insane and kill Owen, because that’s where we’re going.”

“Your reactions are a kickback against feeling threatened, whether it’s you, me, us.  We need to be together.  You’ll regain a sense of control if we’re together.”

“I did mean what I said about that.  If I get away from here, if I feel calmer in six months, or a year’s time…”

“No.”

“Without that proviso there’s nothing.”

“You think?”

“I’m not throwing down a challenge.”

“And I’m not—”  Jack caught a glimpse of his angry reflection in the glass of the boardroom windows.  Ianto was only ever going to respond negatively to aggressive pressure, Jack knew, and he fought to bring his reactions under control.  “Okay,” he said more reasonably, “I’ve listened.  Now, it’s your go.  Any chance you want to hear what I’ve got to say?  What I’ve been trying to tell you since I got back?”  Ianto looked petrified.  “What?  You can’t take it when the tables are turned?”

“I’m sort of…frightened…of being dissuaded.”

“Then you must want to be, very badly.”  Jack pulled out one of the chairs from the table and gestured for Ianto to sit, smiling at his reluctance.  “C’mon, Mr Jones, I’m not that big a monster.”

“Denial does not make you a monster.”

Ianto ignored Jack’s offer and opted to sit in his usual chair, shoulders hunched and peering up at Jack like an eight-year-old in a school lesson he hated.  Jack leaned on the table and stared back.  Three weeks ago he’d had it memorised, all he wanted to say, now he couldn’t think of anything much beyond the fact that he was loved.

“Can you say it?” he asked, surprising Ianto with the apparent reprieve.  “Just once?”

Glancing along the table, Ianto retrieved the Christmas card and, opening it flat, slid it over to Jack.  There it was, irrefutably, in black and white.

Jack,
Thank you for being everything I need.
I love you.
Ianto
xxx

The card played Silent Night.  All at once the moment seemed positively surreal.  Jack sank into his chair at the end of the table, hands framing Ianto’s message.

“Jack?”

“Thank you too.”

“I mean it.”

Jack nodded, and wiped at suddenly brimming eyes.

“I thought I had nothing for you,” he admitted.  “Before I left.  I couldn’t die, but I felt dead inside.  You value love, and I thought I was incapable, that I would hurt you and somehow drag you down to my level.  I could feel but I couldn’t love, and everything I felt seemed increasingly negative.  I thought…”  Jack’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat before pressing on.  “I thought that I had no soul.  That’s what my immortality was about.  The worst kind of monster.  Soulless and indestructible.”

“You should have asked me,” Ianto said quietly, laying a hand over Jack’s nearest wrist and squeezing.  “I’d’ve told you.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to believe you.  I’d’ve wanted to but…”  Ianto nodded his understanding.  “So, there I was, seemingly incapable of love and being seduced by a wonderful young man who could love to the exclusion of all else.”

“I never asked for love.  I was never disappointed or deprived.”

“I know.  And that only made you more deserving.”

“You were only approachable because you wouldn’t love me.  Not being loved was exactly what I needed, because I wasn’t in any state to cope with or reciprocate that kind of affection.  Maybe we worked because I understood you, because I was dead inside too.”

“You deserved better.”

“Love is important, yes, you have to get it right, and I couldn’t have, not back then.  You didn’t let me down in any way, Jack, please don’t feel bad about me.”  Once again Ianto’s hand tightened on Jack’s wrist.  “Why would I lie?”

“I didn’t hurt you?  What about the real Captain Jack?”

“That only mattered until you died.  You can always trust death to put things into perspective.  I imagine it’s hurt you more, especially now…well, what Owen said…”

Jack gave a flat, self-deprecating laugh.

“For a moment there I was able to fool myself.  But…”  He shook his head.  “If it wasn’t real I upset us both for nothing.  I’m sorry.”

“Once you came back after Abaddon, I’d have forgiven you anything.  Of course, you didn’t stay to find that out.”

“That’s when I hurt you.”

“When you left, yes.  How you left.”

“I had to leave.  I thought he had the answers.”

“You thought he was the answer.”

Jack frowned.

“I tell you that?”

“A less than sober moment.”

Jack gave an embarrassed smile.

“No more of those.”

“No,” Ianto agreed.  “At least, not at two in the morning when you’re out picking up rugby players.”

Taking a deep breath, Jack returned to what he wanted to say.

“The Doctor wasn’t happy with the fact that I was alive.  I’d imagined some kind of jubilant reunion but his first consideration was that I should be dead.”

“I was right to hate him then,” Ianto said sourly.  “Good.”

“No, it wasn’t—  I should have been dead.  It made things a little easier for me because I finally knew why I’d been deserted all that time ago.  As far as he knew he’d left a corpse behind.”

“Did he have the answers?”

“Theories, but no answers.  And when we’d finished thrashing out the possibilities, he accepted the best conclusion, and…  Then, he welcomed me back.  He apologised, and he gave me a hug, and…  I kinda…hit him.”  Ianto laughed.  “Yeah, I thought you’d like that.”  Jack’s free hand rested over Ianto’s and he stroked as he talked.  “I’d started to think my immortality was about some great universal plan, but it looks like it was the gift of a friend.  Rose was terrific, you’d have loved her, and she…  Somehow she took the power of the TARDIS, and used it to give me this amount of life.”

“The TARDIS is…?”

“The Doctor’s ship, but it’s more than that, it’s a living creature, it’s…magnificent.”

“And its power is in you.”  Jack nodded.  “Is it permanent?”

“I don’t know.  But on the TARDIS, close to the source of that power, I felt acutely alive but also filled with peace.  Maybe if the TARDIS dies, that’s when I go, but until then…”  Jack shrugged.  “I haven’t lost the peace, not all of it.  It’s why I sleep a little better now, it’s why I believe in myself enough to think I won’t disappoint you.”

“Despite there being nothing behind the smokescreen?” Ianto teased.

“Oh, that,” Jack dismissed.  “I was just feeling sorry for myself.  The trouble with getting hurt is that…it hurts.”

“Most perceptive.”

“I was in such a mess when I went to the Doctor, and he did try to help, he did help.  He even found me an alien who reads souls, and that was when I started to…recover?  Recover.  I can’t explain why it matters so much, it’s not a religious thing, it’s not about convincing myself I’m still human, it’s…it’s…”

Jack looked to Ianto to see if he had any kind of answer.

“You’re not a monster,” came the simple reply, and that was pretty much it.

“Sometimes, simply to live is hard enough.  To live, thinking that about myself…”

“We know it’s not true.”

Jack gave a teary laugh.

“You really do love me.”

“I really do,” Ianto confirmed with great sincerity.

Another deep breath and Jack pressed on.

“I had a soul.  My broken spirit was mending.  I didn’t feel so empty anymore.  We saved a few civilisations, stopped a few global disasters on distant planets – usual run-of-the-mill existence when you’re with the Doctor, you understand – and then I started to get, I thought, homesick.  Which I naturally tried my best to deny, but the Doctor called me on it, he told me I was missing a who, not a home.  And he pointed out the obvious, in more ways than one: that I was alive, but I’d stopped living.”

Jack fell silent for a while, deep in introspective thought.

“Can I get you anything?” Ianto asked quietly, respecting how difficult this had to be for Jack and trying not to be intrusive, offering him an excuse to be alone for a while.  “More coffee?”

Jack smiled and shook his head, renewing his grip on Ianto’s hand to ensure he didn’t escape.

“Once I decided to start living again I was overwhelmed.  Living…  It hurt like hell when I stopped hiding behind all the defences that had turned me into what I was.  But that was when I seriously let myself think about you, about the who I was missing, and…that was it for me.  I knew what I wanted.  I’d thought myself incapable of love, but I’d been wrong, you proved me wrong.  I came back needing you and terrified of losing the person who’d made me want to live again.”

“It explains a lot.”

“Does it explain enough?  I appreciate that what are massive changes for me are about things you take for granted, so they…”

“No,” Ianto squashed Jack’s backpedalling before it could really start.  “I don’t take much for granted.  Plus, I like that Jack the obsessed stalker makes a bit more sense.  Lots of things make sense.”

“I doubt you’ll like them any better for that.”  Ianto shrugged; Jack picked his hand up and kissed the knuckles.  “Where have we got to?”

“The apparent realisation that I can’t risk us being together, and you can’t bear us to be apart.”

“It took eighteen months for me to understand that I can be in love, that I don’t have to be miserable and alone.  I haven’t experienced that for decades, you can’t blame me for not wanting to waste any more time.”

“I don’t always like or trust the person I am when you’re around.  I’m a danger to anyone who maligns you.  You can’t blame me for not wanting to live with that.”

Impasse.

When there was a noise downstairs some time later, Ianto went off to find out who was back and if they needed any assistance.  It turned out to be Toshiko, who led him to the reception and two Christmas trees.

“The van was here when I got back, I just signed for them.”

“I was wondering how you’d got that big one in your shopping bag,” Ianto grinned, and then called for Jack to give him a hand.

It was decided that the generous eight-footer should go by way of the invisible lift; as usual, passers-by noticed nothing odd about two men heaving a tree along one minute and disappearing from the sight the next.  Toshiko hurried into the Hub to watch them descend, welcoming them to floor level with a round of applause.

“Where’s it going?” she asked, turning circles on the spot while she tried to guess.

“Ianto knows.  I hope,” Jack answered, and within minutes Ianto had disappeared and magically reappeared with all the necessary paraphernalia to erect and decorate the tree; he chose to move some redundant equipment and place it to the left of the sofa and coffee station, nestled against the stairs.

Ianto sent Jack to bring some water, and hack-sawed a few inches from the tree’s trunk before clamping it in its base.  Jack appeared with a large crate of bottled Ty Nant from the kitchen.

“Haven’t you heard of a tap water?” Ianto asked, but Jack just smirked at Toshiko and they set about filling the tree base’s reservoir with the pure spring variety.  “I’ll leave you to decorate it,” Ianto told them and beat a hasty retreat, knowing that he would be so pernickety over the tree’s appearance he wouldn’t be home before midnight.

He’d forgotten about the smaller version waiting for him in the Tourist Office but the moment he saw it he u-turned and headed for the kitchen instead.  Coffee today, lots of buzz.  He texted Gwen and Owen to ascertain whether they were coming back to work and, yes, they were on their way, so he brewed enough for everyone and quickly nipped out for some cakes.

The entire team sat around the half-dressed tree and had their afternoon snack, studying the addition to their workspace and recounting stories of past Christmases, good, bad and disastrous.  Ianto looked through a carrier bag of decorations that Jack had produced from his office: no stars and angels for him, there were puffy little ghosts and sparkly, big-eyed aliens and…ties.  Sweet little seasonal bow ties, holly patterned with lamé trim.

“These,” he told Jack with a smile, “are absolutely pinstripe.”

“Are they?” Jack beamed back at Ianto, their focus excluding everyone else in the vicinity, and for a while it was easy to forget that theirs was a match apparently doomed to fail.

…

Ianto persuaded Gwen into decorating the tree for the reception, and she did so happily as Ianto stood back and handed her whatever piece of frippery she gestured to next from the heap on the counter.

“You two are together, aren’t you?” Gwen semi-asked when she stopped for a breather.

“Not really.”

“Jack wants to be?”

“Yes.”

“So the problem is still you.”

“If that’s the way you want to look at it.”

“You can tell me to mind my own business, but…actually, I consider the two of you my business so maybe you can’t.”

“Mind your own business,” Ianto cheerfully told her, and she met his deliberate impertinence with a smile.

“You’re happy, Ianto.  You and Jack are as good as together and you’re happy.  Doesn’t that tell you anything?”

“It’s superficial,” Ianto admitted with a resigned sigh.  “Inside…I’m afraid.”

“Show me someone who isn’t!”

“Not for me.  Not even for Jack.  It’s…  I can’t explain.  Cold light of day and it sounds stupid.”

“Take some advice on stupidity from one who knows.  There’s stupid and wrong, and there’s stupid and right.  Stupid and right is bloody scary but it’s worth every second of fear.”

“Am I allowed time to make that decision?”

Gwen frowned at him.

“Is that it?  He’s pushing you?”

Ianto thought for a moment before choosing to share.

“Right…  You and I are in love, idiotically so.  Somewhat incredibly, we get along well, can put any past differences behind us, and…”

“Is the sex great?  I mean, if we’re going to make this work…?”

“Yes,” Ianto chuckled, “the sex is great.”  His face gradually straightened.  “But there are still…issues…and I want to move away for six months to give me some time and space to decide if these issues can be dealt with.”

“Do I know about these issues?”

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t appear to be very sympathetic to them.”

“You believe they’ll be better dealt with if we’re together.”

“Do I have a point?”

“I don’t like what I become when I’m with you.  Over-zealous and potentially trigger-happy in my, usually unnecessary, defence of you.”

Gwen knew how hard that had been for Ianto to admit, and she gave him a reassuring smile.

“It sounds like…you love me very much.”

“I could kill someone for criticising you.”

“Ah, sod Jack, will you marry me, Ianto?”

“It’s not a joke.”

“If you feel that passionately about him, how can you let it go?”

“Will you be as supportive when I kill Owen?”

Gwen thought about it.

“Perhaps…  You knowing that it can happen is most likely to ensure that it won’t.”

“You think?”

“Feeling secure with Jack might be just the thing to stop you lashing out.  But you’re right not to let him pressure you, it has to be your decision.  I know we’ve talked about it in the past, we’ve even joked about it, but you like to feel in control of a situation, whether it’s in the field, or in your own life.  And what’s wrong with that?”

“Performance review?  Can make me inflexible, reticent…”

“Take control.”

“Even if it means leaving for six months?”

“Yes.  I suppose.  Bugger, I wasn’t going there.”  Ianto smiled and wound some tinsel onto her head like a crown.  “You and I are idiotically in love,” Gwen began again, far more flippantly, “and perhaps you feel out of sorts because we need to make a huge and flowery commitment.  We’ll get married and have babies and you’ll be fine.”

Ianto began to giggle.

“Could you imagine his face if I asked him to marry me?”

“He’d say yes in a minute,” Gwen giggled along.  “Plus, you owe it to your kids, your two wonderful girls and that unfortunate oik of a boy.”

Ianto wedged a star into the pile of tinsel.

“You’ll make a beautiful bride.”

Gwen draped lametta in Ianto’s hair.

“So will you.”

They were still laughing when Jack came to investigate.  His curious expression only made them worse and he waited patiently until they were supposedly a little more composed.

“Jack.  Will you marry me?” Ianto caught his breath to ask.

Jack thought, seriously.

“I think I have the paperwork to make it legal, so…yeah.”

The last of the laughter shrivelled to nothing; Ianto stared at Jack in awestruck panic.

“You’re joking, right?”

“No.”

“No?”  The panic slid into confusion.  “But…  It was a joke,” Ianto feebly explained.  “It was…y’know…a joke?”

Jack gave a nonchalant shrug.

“You got your answer.”  He gestured to the tree.  “Want some help with that?”  He admired Ianto’s latest fashion statement before removing the lametta.  “You’re gorgeous.  Even when you’re catching flies.”

Ianto’s jaw snapped shut.  He exchanged a gobsmacked look with Gwen, who was biting her lips in a bid to keep quiet.

“Umm…Gwen,” Ianto stuttered, “would you mind, downstairs, seeing to…the thing.”

“The thing?  Oh, the thing, yes.  I’ll, just…go and…see to the thing.”

Gwen bolted for the Hub and Ianto turned to Jack, who was contentedly dressing the tree.

“You need me to sign off on the thing?” Jack asked Ianto with good humour.

“Jack…  You’re scaring the sodding life out of me.”

Jack stalked over and pinned Ianto against the counter.

“We never had sex back there,” Jack said as nodded in the direction of the ante-room.  “You fancy…?”

“With everyone here?  How bloody idiotic do you think I—  Yeah, all right.”

Seizing Jack by the braces, Ianto dragged him around the counter and, after negotiating some minor difficulties with the bead curtain, launched into a passionate embrace the moment a degree of privacy was obtained.

“You don’t feel scared,” Jack said between kisses.

“Sex is easy.  Coping with all your…”

“Sit on the chair, I’ll ride you.”

Ianto groaned in anticipation and their fingers grappled for purchase on buttons and belts, but everything froze when they heard Toshiko’s voice.

“Guys, I’ve figured it out!”

Ianto grabbed the first prop that came to hand, jammed a pile of folders into Jack’s arms, and practically threw him back into the Tourist Office.

“Hi, Tosh.  Did you see Gwen?”  ‘Cause if she sent you here to snoop I’m gonna kill her, was left unspoken.

“No.”  Toshiko was all genuine wide-eyed innocence.  “Should I have?”

“No,” Jack responded blithely.

Ianto appeared, looking as pristine and innocent as ever.

“What did you figure out?” he asked as he balanced several box files on his hip.

“How to get the giraffe out of the autopsy room,” Toshiko gleefully announced.

Ianto frowned.

“How did you know about the giraffe?”

“The memo,” she explained, as if receiving a memo based on a dream of a giraffe trapped in the autopsy room was par for the course.  And, at Torchwood, perhaps it was.

“And you’ve worked out how to remove it?  Without killing it?”

“Specifically without killing it.  Owen wanted a chain saw and dozen wheelie bins, but I reminded him about the requirements in the memo and…”

“You’ve got it figured,” Jack confirmed.

“Yes.”  She took a deep breath and looked very pleased with herself.  “We use the teleporter.”

Jack and Ianto exchanged a somewhat stunned look.

“We don’t have a teleporter,” Jack reminded Toshiko.

“We don’t have a giraffe,” she countered, her smile widening.  “It’s the lateral solution.”

Jack’s grin met hers.

“You’re having lots and lots of really good sex, ain’t ya, Tosh.”

“Oh, yes,” she now beamed, and went back to her real work.

As Jack began to laugh, Ianto dumped his box files and leaned on the counter, shaking his head.

“Now…”  Jack threw his folders aside and appreciatively groped Ianto’s backside.  “Where were we?”

“About to get caught.”  Ianto vainly tried to dislodge Jack’s roving hands.  “Forget it.  You make me a bit mad, you know that?  A lot mad.”

“I’m supposed to believe you never made use of the stationary cupboards at Torchwood One?”

“Yes, believe it.”

Jack’s hands slid around Ianto’s hips and tinkered with his zip until they were slapped away.  Ianto collected up the folders and box files and restored them to their usual places.  Having followed Ianto into the ante-room, Jack waited until he was finished tidying and then drew him across to the chair, sitting and pulling Ianto onto his lap, demanding nothing more physical than a long hug.

“What are we going to do about London?” Jack asked, subdued now.  Thoughtful, and not liking what he was thinking.

“Six months isn’t forever.”

“You might decide you like your new life better without me in it.”

“I want you.  That isn’t going to stop.  And I don’t let go easily, you’ve seen for yourself.”

“Isn’t there anything I can say or do?”

“Be patient.”

“Fine.  Ask for the impossible.”

Ianto rose for as long as it took to swing a leg over Jack’s lap and straddle him, cupping the captain’s unhappy face in his hands and tenderly kissing him.  Jack’s hands were hot on his thighs, stroking and squeezing, and it wasn’t long before Ianto’s thoughts turned in the obvious direction.  He draped his arms loosely around Jack’s neck and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Will you fuck me tonight?”

Jack groaned and ground his burgeoning erection up against Ianto’s equally stimulated groin.

“Is that what you’d like?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it, remembering how good it was.  First time you fucked me I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.  Every time.”

“How did it go?” Jack laughed.  “‘Teach me…’”

“Umm…  ‘Teach me, oh master, the ways of tartdom, so that I may deliver my arse unto you,’” Ianto quoted.  “Or something like that.”

“In my fantasies you’d always been very serious, a little shy, maybe.  I ever tell you that?”

“Happy you were wrong?”

“Delirious.”  Jack kissed Ianto fervently.  “I have to have you, where can we go?”

“We can’t,” Ianto told him, kissing him back as passionately.

“Let’s go to yours.”

Ianto broke the kiss and weighed desire against his ingrained work ethic.

“Now?”

“Now.”

“We—  No, we can’t.”

“And I guess you won’t let me throw you over the table and—”

Abruptly, Jack found himself with an empty lap and nothing beneath his hands.  Ianto was already halfway out of the door as Jack was finding his feet.

“Ianto?”

“R to T,” came the breathless reply.  “Never-ending job.”

“Ianto.”

Ianto reappeared in the doorway.

“Don’t you dare follow me down, you know what they’re like with the CCTV.”

“Does that mean if I disable it…?”

Ianto wavered, but only momentarily.  He huffed a disapproving breath at his own sordid thoughts.

“Later.  In the privacy of my home.”  His eyes trailed down Jack’s body to the persistent bulge distorting the fabric of his trousers.  “Damn, I want that.”

Jack’s hands dawdled toward his fly and, with a frustrated whimper, Ianto was gone.

With a little sexual self-pity of his own, Jack tried to think of what he could do to take his mind off his predicament.  Then again…Ianto’s cosy little room had no CCTV worries.

…

Wary of being caught up in any kind of formal goodbye on the eve of his departure, Ianto was out of the Hub the moment there were indications of work being set aside for the day.  If this was anyone else the accusation would be that they’d surreptitiously gathered their possessions and sneaked out while no-one was looking, but, of course, Ianto felt himself above sneaking.  It was purely coincidental that he hadn’t seen a single one of his colleagues as he’d exploited the archive’s escape rat-runs, previously unused since nineteen-forty-six.  After some intense dusting off of cobwebs and other detritus he’d managed to gather during his bid for freedom, he climbed into his car and phoned Jack.

“Where are you?” Jack asked.

“Hiding in the Rover.  I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything you urgently needed before I went home.”

“This is mean.  I’m assuming that you guessed they planned on taking you out tonight.”

“I suspected as much.  Which is why…”

“…you’re hiding in the car.”

“Precisely.”

“I’ll break it to them gently.  They were looking forward to this.  Really looking forward to it.”

“Maybe…”  Ianto released a defeated groan.  “How about tomorrow night?”

Jack laughed.

“Such enthusiasm.”

“I was planning on seeing them at Christmas, I thought…  Never mind.  Tomorrow night,” Ianto gloomily confirmed.

“Did it ever occur to you that you might actually enjoy it?”

“No,” Ianto said firmly, making it plain that was the end of that particularly ridiculous concept.  “I’ll see you…when?”

“Soon as I’m finished here.”

“I’ll make dinner for seven-thirty.  Unless the planet is invaded you have no excuses for being late.”

“And you didn’t want me to bring any friends along?”

Ianto rolled his eyes at the unmistakeable grin in Jack’s voice, and broke the connection.

…

At twenty-past-seven Jack arrived at Ianto’s to find the door left on the latch for him.  He fought to quell his overreaction at this potentially fatal act and determinedly made up his mind not to infuriate Ianto by lecturing him about security breaches as if they were still at work.  He simply flipped the catch and closed the door very firmly behind him and thought about buying a few new locks and bolts and maybe the teeniest alarm system that could be linked into the Hub’s computers and bring the wrath of Captain Jack plus the focus of a vast array of lethal weaponry upon anyone who dared to set an unwelcome foot upon his SO’s home ground.  And, in Jack’s head, that sounded perfectly reasonable.

After casually throwing his coat over the stairs’ newel post, Jack followed his nose and strolled into Ianto’s kitchen, feeling for all the world like he’d come home.  Ianto was at the stove, prodding the contents of the pans laid out before him, glass of wine from a half-empty bottle in his utensil-free hand.  Jack leaned against Ianto’s back and ran his arms around the narrow waist, snuggling close and pressing kisses into hair that was still fragrant and damp from a recent shower.

“Risotto, salmon, salad and garlic bread,” Ianto spelt out the menu.  “Tell me you’re not hungry and I’ll pistol-whip you with your own revolver.”

“Sounds great.  May I,” Jack didn’t exactly ask as he took the glass from Ianto’s hand.  Ianto allowed his drink to be set aside and himself to be twisted about-face and kissed.  Jack broke the kiss prematurely and smacked his lips.  “Damn.  I promised you I wouldn’t touch the stuff but you make it taste exceptionally good.”

“Celebrating early,” Ianto explained.  “It’s a big day tomorrow, albeit in a small way.”

Jack sighed heavily at the thought and consoled himself by nuzzling Ianto’s cheek.

“Can we forget about tomorrow?”

Ianto nodded.

“Let’s.”

“Anything I can do now?  Find music, light candles, lay the table?”  Ianto snorted in amusement.  “Non-carnally,” Jack clarified with a grin.

“Table’s done.  You can choose some music, if you like.  My CD’s are all packed, but the box isn’t sealed.”

“Radio will do.”  Ianto turned back to the food while Jack went into the next room and played around with the stereo controls.  “Hey,” Jack called when he found something he liked.

Ianto poked his head around the doorframe.

“What?”

“This could be our song, it’s perfect.”

Ianto listened for a moment before starting to giggle.

“No.”

“But that’s you, you’re amazing.”

“There are certain…connotations.”

“Why?”

Ianto gestured to his laptop.

“Go online and look up George Michael’s latest exploits,” he told Jack, and started giggling again as he disappeared back into the kitchen.

Jack waved the instruction away, taking Ianto’s word for…whatever, and scanning the available stations until he found a classical channel playing music with hopefully no connotations at all.

“Okay?” he asked Ianto.

“Nice.”

Ianto brought the meal to the table and they sat opposite one another, Jack watching and grinning when Ianto poured them both wine: obviously a reprieve had been granted as this wasn’t two in the morning and there were no rugby players in the immediate vicinity.  Jack held his glass up.

“How’s it go?  Yacky…”

“Iechyd da,” Ianto wished him good health.

“Maybe I should stick with…  Bottoms up,” Jack finished with a flirtatious twitch of the eyebrows, and Ianto suspected that this would be another half-finished meal.

They talked about their work as they ate, veered into more personal subjects, then via Vienna and back to the ensuing day.

“How angry will you be if I ask you again not to quit?” Jack asked quietly.

“Don’t spoil this evening by asking.  Please?  You said you wanted to forget about tomorrow.”

“I can’t understand how this is so easy for you.”

Ianto almost choked on his risotto.

“Easy?  None of this is easy.  Necessary, but not easy.”

“So it really isn’t payback?”  Ianto flashed him a sharp look.  Jack took it on board.  “Guess not.”

“We can survive me being away for a while.”

“I hope so,” Jack smiled, but to Ianto the tone of his voice seemed to ring with how little faith he had in that possibility.

“Well,” Ianto concluded, caustically, “if that’s your attitude…”  He emptied the wine bottle into his glass and raised it in a sarcastic salute to Jack…  “Absent friends.”  …before downing the lot in one long draught.

“Ianto…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get another bottle.  Drink up.”

Trying to figure out how the atmosphere had turned on a pinhead, Jack put down his fork and counted to ten as Ianto returned to the kitchen for more wine.  He didn’t want to get into any arguments, not tonight.

“Shall I go?” he called out.

“Why?” was snapped back.

“Because…”

“I don’t want you to go,” Ianto cut in before Jack could begin to explain.

“That sounds familiar.  Although it’s usually me saying it and being ignored.”

“You think we can’t survive six months apart,” Ianto accused from the doorway.  “You were away for nine, Jack, and if you’d told me to wait for you I could have done that.  In fact, I’d’ve wanted to.”

“You think that would have been fair?”

“I—  Is that it?” Ianto demanded angrily.  “You think I’m being unfair, asking for some time apart?”

“No, I…”

“It’s not some fucking whim, I’m frightened for the people I work with.”

“We shouldn’t discuss this if you’ve been drinking.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“I know.  But you’re not sober either.”

Jack got to his feet and crossed to Ianto, but before he could touch him Ianto twisted away, pacing and full of semi-focused resentment.

“I leave work tomorrow and Cardiff on Tuesday.  What then?  What else will you start thinking I’m being unfair over?  How long before you decide I’m too unreasonable to wait for, and that we’re not working?  How long before you'll feel justified in fucking around?  Think you’ll make it to the weekend?”

“Oh, at least,” Jack replied with heavy sarcasm.  “But if you’re lucky I’ll have something left for you by the time we get to Vienna.”  Ianto flinched and Jack immediately regretted the points he’d scored; he raised his hands in a gesture of apology.  “I want you, I hate the thought of being without you.  You know all this, how can my being honest get you so worked up?”

“Have you forgotten the things you used to say to me?  Before you went away?  The way you’d mock the values I hold dear?  I don’t have – never will have – the right mentality for indiscriminate coupling.  I’ve grown up believing in monogamy and fidelity and I’ve reaped the benefits so I don’t question for a moment that it’s the right way.  I’m not wrong to want someone who shares those values.  Those one-night stands I told you about?  Fucking awful, absolutely demeaning.  They just confirmed it for me.”

“Ianto…”

“And I’m not wrong to want someone who’ll trust my judgement and not think I’m being unfair when I try to do what’s right!”

Jack tried to catch hold of Ianto, just to have his hands knocked away.

“Ianto…”

“I’m sure that, despite my feelings being great fun to manipulate right now for some perverse reason, and despite you imagining that you care for me, ultimately I’ll prove to be one more expendable shag, and bearing in mind your thoughts on monogamy, I’m not likely to have much confidence in your desire or ability to remain faithful to someone so unreasonable once I’ve set foot over the Severn Bridge.”

“We were different before.  When I said those things.”

“How?  You had me then, you have me…”

“I had you?” Jack repeated with heavy disbelief.  “I didn’t have you, Ianto.  I might’ve had your body but, emotionally, you weren’t on the planet.  What you allowed me was skin deep and back then that was understandable, you were too fragile to expect anything more of.”

Ianto bristled.

“I am not fragile.”

“You were and you are.  If not…then why are we in the middle of this particular conversation, especially after everything I told you?  I came back for you, just for you.  Instead of panicking, why aren’t you simply making me swear to be faithful and warning me of dire consequences if I so much as look at another person in that way?”

Ianto drew breath to fire back an equally heated retort but he caught himself, disliking the over-possessive, insulting rubbish he’d almost blurted out, and determinedly forcing it aside in favour of a response that he believed was correct and appropriately respectful.

“I don’t have that right.”

“Yes, you fucking-well do!” Jack hollered, startling Ianto into immobility.  “Or are we no closer than—  What was I?  Last year.  A curiosity?  A refuge?  Every time you fucked me with your eyes closed, were you thinking of her?”

Ianto struggled to keep to the point.

“If you want to be faithful to me, you will be.  If you care enough.”

“But you think I don’t.”

“I shouldn’t have to make demands or threats.”

“Even if it’s what I want?”

“It’s—”  Jack virtually saw the Does Not Compute scroll through Ianto’s brain.  “Why?”

“I…  Don’t really know.”

“You…  Oh.”

They stared at one another, a further long, lost moment of confusion while they tried to deal with their own angst.  When the focus shifted one-hundred-and-eighty-degrees, it was easier.

“You lost me, and lost me, and lost me,” Jack told Ianto, counting deaths and departure in his head.  “And you don’t want to lose me again, to anything or anyone.  But love and loss have become synonymous to you.”

“You don’t think anyone ever cares enough to tell you to behave.”

There was a pause as they analysed each other’s rather obvious conclusions.

“You tell me,” Jack urged.

Ianto shook his head and reiterated, apologetically,

“I really don’t have that right.  I wish I could convince myself I did.”

The troubled expression on Ianto’s face was irresistible: with a forlorn sigh, Jack took advantage of Ianto’s stillness, finally able to draw close and hug him.

“I don’t want anyone else, Ianto, and I’m not going anywhere without you.  You’re not about to lose me.”

Ianto nodded his cautious acceptance, trying not to think about how big an idiot he was being: temper tantrums did not make for a desirable lover.  He didn’t feel drunk but was pretty sure that his insecurities wouldn’t have been blurted out if he’d been completely sober.  He returned Jack’s hug, vigorously, and then kissed him.  That made everything feel much better, so he did it again and again.

“You weren’t serious, were you?” he asked between kisses.  “About…what I’m thinking.”

“I doubt it.”

Not the most reassuring of answers from Jack.  Ianto kissed him once more and whispered against his lips.

“I’d never…  If I close my eyes…it’s to concentrate on how we feel together.  There’s only ever the two of us in the bed, I promise you.”

“I believe you.  I trust you.”  Jack cupped Ianto’s face in his hands and made Ianto meet his eyes.  “I love you.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“Been honest about how I make you feel?  Made you feel.  No more of that, Ianto, I promise.  No more mocking what I took this long to understand.  Now…”  Jack’s hands dropped and he tangled his fingers with Ianto’s.  “Will you come to bed?  You’re doubting me, and the best way I can think of to show you how much I want you, is to show you how much I want you.”

Ianto hesitated before admitting,

“I do know.”

“You still think it’s temporary.”

“That isn’t what I want to think.  You were right, what you said about love and loss.  I suppose I’ve learnt the hard way that nothing is forever.”

“Mind if I try proving otherwise?”

“Wish you would.  Wish you could.”

“Aw,” Jack crooned faux-sympathetically, “my beautiful, miserable drunk.”

“I’m not…”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Ianto did just that, grabbing Jack by the collar and hauling him toward the door, kissing him hard and passionately as they went; Jack responded with his usual enthusiasm, tongue duelling with Ianto’s as his hands roamed to Ianto’s backside and squeezed.  Food forgotten, Ianto manoeuvred Jack up the stairs to the bedroom in record time, tearing at his clothes the moment they were inside the door.  Jack laughed and caught Ianto’s wrists.

“What’s the hurry?”

“This is what you do to me,” Ianto panted, lustful gleam to his eyes.  “This is all I hide now.  This is how I want to be with you all the time but I can’t, I have to keep holding back, and…”

Jack let Ianto’s wrists go and gestured ‘have me’.  With a groan of relief that seemed to rumble up from deep within his chest, Ianto relaunched his assault and didn’t rest until they were both completely naked and Jack was pushed onto the edge of the bed.  Ianto dropped to his knees and ran his lips up the length of Jack’s erect shaft, inhaling and becoming further aroused by the unique musky scent; he momentarily teased the swollen tip before the journey was reversed, and Ianto took Jack’s balls into his mouth one after the other, sucking until Jack was past twitching and all but squirming with the attention.

Struggling up onto his elbows to watch, Jack was enraptured by the concentration on Ianto’s face as he once again explored the rigid flesh that was the focus of so much of his pleasure, using lips and tongue to rediscover and savour every inch.  When Ianto’s mouth slid over the glans and sucked, an appreciative creak escaped Jack’s throat and he slumped down onto the bed, opening his legs further as fingers gently massaged his perineum, occasionally trailing further back to tease the puckered ring.

It felt far, far too good.  Jack reached down and caught Ianto by the biceps, tugging him onto the bed and rolling them both until they were comfortable and entwined.  Ianto blindly groped out for the container of lubricant he’d left on the bedside cabinet, eventually finding it and flicking the cap open, breaking the latest kiss to gesture for Jack’s hand.  Ianto squeezed a healthy dollop of gel onto Jack’s fingers and set aside the bottle, spreading his thighs and attempting to direct Jack’s touches, frowning at the resistance.

“I want this to last,” Jack explained, trying not to break into a grin at the sound of Ianto’s frustrated growl.

“Fuck me now and later we can go again.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Bastard.”

Now the grin appeared and Ianto smothered it with kisses full of sincere passion, encouraging Jack to give in to his demands with long, erotic strokes to his lover’s cock.  Jack had other ideas.  He played with Ianto’s body, enjoying himself as he drew glistening patterns with his slippery fingers, sensual designs that traced bone structure and musculature, looped around nipples and navel and prick.  He decorated Ianto’s balls and let a fingertip wind lower, brushing wetly over the tight muscles that guarded the entrance to Ianto’s body.  A string of Welsh expletives accompanied the ferocious buck of Ianto’s hips as he tried to impale himself on the elusive fingers.

“Want me?” Jack asked sweetly, almost earning himself a backhander for his teasing tone.

Ianto turned the hottest of gazes on Jack, irises nearly black with desire and lips parted to accommodate the amount of breath his heaving chest required.

“Yes,” he said quite simply.  “I want you.”

Ianto fought to retain eye contact as Jack breached him with a single, careful finger, trembling spasmodically with the sheer effort of waiting for more.  Jack touched that most sensitive of spots inside him and his eyes snapped shut as he was overwhelmed by the combined intensity of emotion and sensation, and he knew he was whispering loving nonsense to Jack but he didn’t have a clue what he was actually saying.  He was deaf to Jack’s predictably affectionate response, but too acutely aware of a flat tongue swiping over his belly, lapping up the pre-come that dripped from his cock.  A second finger probed his body, then a third, all as delicately as the first as muscles were persuaded to relax, Jack paying keen attention to his reactions before drawing a slow circle around the slit of Ianto’s glans with the very tip of his tongue.  Ianto unceremoniously pushed Jack’s head away and grabbed his wrist to remove the tormenting fingers.

“Fuck, no, stop, I’llcomeI’llcomeI’llcome,” he warned urgently.

Jack looked to Ianto’s face, laughing at the scrunched up features as Ianto fought to control himself.

“Ah, the power,” Jack gloated.

“Jaaaack,” Ianto comically moaned, and they both laughed now, Ianto breathy and flushed and so beautiful that Jack couldn’t resist any longer, he had to have him.  Offering up the retrieved container to Ianto, Jack watched as the young man’s elegant hands deftly slicked his cock before slowing momentarily to bestow a few, more intimate touches on his lover; then Ianto looked at him, adoring and aroused, demanding and offering, and Jack found himself between Ianto’s thighs before he was aware he’d moved, ready to take back what he’d lost, no qualms about possessiveness on his part.  Another daub of lube to Ianto’s body and Jack lined himself up, back to staring into Ianto’s eyes as he steadily pressed his way inside the man he’d been craving.  He gave a brief laugh of sheer exuberance, finding it impossible not to be smug that this was his and his alone.  Ianto could only maintain that piercing gaze for mere seconds before his eyes involuntarily flickered shut and all his attention arrowed in on the sensations Jack was causing.

“Thinking of us,” he swore, “thinking of us.”

“If you weren’t, this time I really would shoot you.”

Ianto giggled, then the giggles dissolved into gasps and he reached out to bring Jack to him, close enough to kiss, close enough to let Ianto fuck himself on Jack’s cock, unaffected by Jack’s caution.  Jack had never hurt him, not like this; Jack had never let Ianto hurt himself, not like this; all Jack needed was a little reassurance to get him going.  Jack froze as Ianto’s hips thrust upwards, once, twice, again and again until, with a throaty sigh, Jack took the hint and threw restraint to the wind, falling into Ianto’s rhythm and working his prick inside the hot, slippery channel, shifting his angle to drag the head of his cock across Ianto’s prostate on every stroke.

“I want this always,” emerged from Ianto’s lips, a ragged and unexpected moan that shattered Jack’s self-control, and as he shuddered into his climax he felt Ianto’s fingers dig into his sides, his body rear, a murmured tumble of words, Jack and want and love and fuck and yesssss.

Jack watched his lover come, a kink he’d never deny himself, and one that seemed to drag his own orgasm out to an extraordinary length.

“You are so fucking hot,” he told Ianto vehemently, jerking his cock deeper in his enthusiasm and feeling a final spurt of semen against his ribcage, a last graze from Ianto’s nails.

Jack collapsed onto Ianto, making a vain attempt to keep some of the weight on his arms.  Ianto didn’t seem to care about that, he simply brought Jack’s grinning face around and kissed him, short breathless kisses now.

“I thought I might never have this again,” Ianto admitted as he hugged Jack’s sweaty body more tightly.

“Really?”  Ianto nodded.  “’Cause…” Jack rubbed his nose over Ianto’s, “…I kinda get that feeling that…I chased you, until you caught me.”

“I…?”  Ianto thought that over and chuckled to himself.  “No.  If I’d known from the start we could get to this, I’d’ve just had you and bollocks to the hard work.  But…we had to get here.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s been worth it.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed with a tender smile before giving Ianto a final kiss and rolling off him.

Ianto had left tissues by the bed and he grabbed a handful, lethargically yet efficiently cleaning himself and Jack, very obviously relishing the intimacy of his actions.  He’d barely finished and sprawled comfortably over Jack before he was muttering to himself and rising.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m hungry.  And I need some water or I’ll be thick-headed in the morning,” Ianto explained with a prolonged yawn and stretch.  “Can I get you anything?”

“Food sounds good.”

Ianto heaved himself out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown, turning back at the door to ask Jack if he wanted a drink but coming to a silent halt.  Jack was relaxed, motionless, appearing completely at peace.  Such was the rarity that Ianto gazed at him, loved him intensely, and felt rather intoxicated.

Downstairs Ianto drank glass after glass of water, obsessively tidied, prepared hot chocolate and cut doorsteps from the fresh loaf he’d bought on the way home, cramming the leftover salmon between the slices to make hefty sandwiches.  Tray in hand he wandered along the hall, pausing at the foot of the stairs to gaze at the spare keys that had been sitting on the hall table since Jack had thrown them back at him.  It only took a second to decide their fate and – as it was so conveniently placed – he dropped them into the pocket of Jack’s coat.

“If you wake up later, you can wake me up too,” Ianto rashly told Jack as they began to doze after supper.

Jack naturally took him at his word.

All.  Night.  Long.

Attrition 26       Attrition Index       Attrition Notes

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