Three days, two bog-standard life or death moments, one brittle atmosphere, and no sex later, in the midst of hunting a berserk robot through Roath docks, Ianto’s mobile rang.  He’d set a different ring tone for Catherine’s calls so instantly knew it was her, and if Jack hadn’t been about to be ripped limb from limb Ianto absolutely would have taken the call.  It was peculiarly easy to grab at that excuse, and he just had time to switch the phone to silent before taking a flying leap at the crazed intruder, knocking it off it’s tripod feet and clear of Jack long enough for the captain to regain his equilibrium and attach a device to the machine’s battered casing that, at the push of a button, scrambled every command code.  The robot’s tinny face somehow managed to look surprised, just for a second, as it quivered and twitched prior to keeling onto its left side and frantically cycling its spindly legs until its eyes let out flares of golden sparks; with an ear-splitting whine it slumped and, effectively, died.

Panting to catch their breath, the two men stood over the smoking metal carcass and re-holstered their guns.

“Okay?” they asked each other at the same time, receiving half-smiles and nods in return.

“Tosh would’ve loved this,” Jack smiled sadly as he poked the robot with a booted toe.  “Probably could’ve fixed it too.”

“We could try,” Ianto offered.  “Could be an interesting project.”  But the enthusiasm waned as Ianto remembered.  “Might be a bit long-term for me though.”

“I thought I heard your phone,” Jack said bluntly, staring at Ianto as if daring him to lie.

“Yes, you did.”

“Catherine?”

“I couldn’t take the call, could I, not with that thing about to fillet you.”

“Phone her back, right now.”

“Jack, I…”

“Do it.”

Ianto glared.

“Don’t try giving me orders, not about this.”

“We need to know.”

Ianto turned on his heel and started back in the direction of the SUV.

“It can wait until we’re back at the Hub.  I’ll get the car, if you’ll start…”

“Ianto!”

Two more steps and Jack caught up, dipping into Ianto’s pocket and taking his phone.  Ianto didn’t even look back as Jack called Catherine, already convinced he knew what the blood test would have revealed and, if not resigned to his fate, having reached a state of acceptance that allowed him to deal with each day as it came, with a minimum of internal hysteria.

Jack was still talking – or rather listening – to Catherine when Ianto brought the SUV to pick up the remains of the robot.  Ianto gestured a request for assistance, but Jack gave him a ‘leave it’ wave before strolling over, ending the call, and dropping the phone back into Ianto’s pocket.

“What do you want?  The good news or the bad news?”

“What I want?” Ianto mused.  “How about…  We get these remains back to the Hub, then I consume every drop of alcohol on the premises.  Going by your expression, I think I might need it.”

“You have what I have,” Jack told him, and rather brusquely, as if it was the only way he could say the words without dissolving into an emotional heap.

Ianto empathised with that, and reached out for Jack’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Yes, well, we expected as much,” Ianto said quietly.  Without blame.  Jack gave a rough tug, pulling Ianto into his arms.  “Is there really any good news?” Ianto asked as he let Jack smother him in a bear hug.

“It’s different in you.  Potentially slower.”

“So I may have longer than I thought?”

“Potentially,” Jack stressed.

“Which means…that Catherine doesn’t have a clue.”

“She has a small clue.  Your test subjects…”

“Bearing in mind I’m not a rat, is there a best guess?”

“Best guess?  She thinks it will take twice, maybe three times as long to get to a state of—”  Jack’s voice broke; he took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry.”

“You saved my life, Jack.”

“But, for this?”

Ianto ignored that and manoeuvred Jack into helping with the robot; once the contraption was in the boot of the SUV, they drove back to base.  Ianto spent the drive mentally picking over his situation in much the same way as he couldn’t help physically picking at the scab on his thumb.

“I’ve been thinking,” Ianto said as they jostled the remains of Cardiff’s latest extraterrestrial visitor inside.

“So have I.”

“About the future.”

“Me too.”

They dumped the robot on the floor of the autopsy room and regarded one another curiously.

“You first,” Ianto told Jack.

“You.”

“You,” Ianto insisted.

Jack paused, disappearing into his own thoughts for several seconds before giving up on what appeared to be a very troubling internal debate.

“Move in.  Move in with me.  Or not with me, just move into the Hub.  I know you need your own space, but being here doesn’t necessarily mean you’re trapped, you’re simply…simply…”

“Simply…?” Ianto prompted as Jack flailed.

“With me,” Jack admitted.  “I could pretend it’s all about keeping you safe, but I just want you here for the time we have left.”

Ianto nodded pensively as he thought that over.

“Did Catherine say she was any closer to a cure?”

“Fractionally.  The catalyst’s reaction to your blood has helped, but we could be looking at years.”  Ianto nodded again.  Jack waited.  “Ianto?”

“I’ll consider your proposal…if you’ll agree to mine.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, making Ianto chuckle.

“Try me,” Jack invited.

“I want you to freeze me before my condition gets too bad.  While I still know who I am, and who you are, and what’s happening.  Put me in cryo and wait for the cure.  Of course, you’ll have to shoot yourself regularly so you don’t forget I’m there, but we can put that on your calendar.”

Ianto had been fairly sure that Jack would agree without too much fuss, but he was relieved when a grim nod from Jack made further discussion on the subject unnecessary, at least for the present.

“You get what you want.  Do I get what I want?” Jack asked.  “Will you move into the Hub?”

“If I move in will you stop punishing yourself for what’s happened and actually have sex with me?”

“I haven’t deliberately been avoiding…”

“Don’t lie to me,” Ianto warned, stabbing a finger in Jack’s direction.  “You’re bloody transparent over this.”

Jack fidgeted and grumbled before holding up his hands in surrender.

“I’ve had problems coping, yes, okay, I admit that.”

“I know how quickly you lost interest last time; if it happens to me that fast we should be making the most of every minute we have.”

“I’ll be fine now we know,” Jack said firmly before wavering.  “Almost fine.  Getting there.  You move in and I’ll make sure…”

“I don’t understand why you even want me living here.  I appreciate that it may be necessary when I start to lose the plot, but you first mentioned it before I was infected.  To be honest, it seems out of character, and that bothers me.”

“Which character is that?  The Jack Harkness who went into the ground two-thousand years ago and, as that first spade-full of dirt hit his face, realised what he was losing?  The Jack Harkness that came out of cryo knowing not to hesitate, not to waste a single minute, because too many minutes had already been wasted on being guarded and alone?”

“Jack…”

“And as we’re being honest?  I think what really bothers you isn’t how I’m behaving, but how you’re feeling.  Somewhere along the way, you realised that you’re in love with me, and you can’t stand it.”

Ianto visibly flinched and could’ve kicked himself for allowing his reaction to show.  It certainly made any argument to the contrary pointless.

“So what if I love you?” Ianto challenged with more confidence than he felt.  “Why should that bother me, I’m not the emotionally stunted one.”

Jack’s turn to flinch, but he pressed on regardless.

“Because you don’t want to be in love with me.”

Ianto began to protest before wondering why the hell he was.  If Jack had figured it out he should be grateful for the break.  Still, he was rather at a loss for words.

“What do you want me to say?”

“You could tell me what’s making you so unhappy about it.”

“Or you could show some consideration and not ask.”

“You’re appealing to my better nature?  Seriously?”

“Why, Jack?  Why do you have to drag this up now?”

“Because it’s stopping us getting what we want.”

“Less of the us.”

“Okay, it’s stopping me getting what I want.  Tell me why it makes you unhappy.”

Ianto could see he wasn’t going to be able to avoid this conversation; irritably admitting a degree of defeat, he gave a petulant shrug.

“It wasn’t my choice.”

“Is it ever a choice?”

“Perhaps not.  But…”

“Do you think living here gives you even fewer choices, is that it?  You don’t want us getting closer?”

“I don’t know.”  He honestly didn’t.

“Ianto…  Am I that difficult to be with?”

“It’s not—  Why are we even having this conversation?  It doesn’t matter anymore, does it.  In a couple of months time I’ll be in cryo and…”

“When the cure is available, when you’re resuscitated and well again, you think we won’t have this conversation?  No time at all will have passed for you so you’ll feel the same, and I…”

“Will have moved on,” Ianto insisted.  “You’ll move on, Jack, and that’s exactly as it should be.”

“You think I’ll wake you up and introduce you to the new boyfriend?  Well then, how’s this?  I postpone waking you until I have a convenient window in the stream of lovers I don’t have.”  Ianto responded with a sullen shrug and Jack groaned.  “Am I really that cruel?”

“It’s not about thinking you’re cruel, it’s more about being realistic.  I don’t expect you to do any more than wake me up when I can be cured, or, if you leave Torchwood, make sure there are instructions so someone else can do it.  I certainly don’t expect you to wait to be with me, for God’s sake!  That’s absurd, I could be in cryo for decades, for centuries.”

“I have centuries!  I can wait endlessly if it’s for the right reason, that’s the kind of man I am.  It’s not some huge romantic gesture, if that’s what you’re frightened of, it’s loyalty.  Don’t try to bullshit me that you can’t understand loyalty, you of all people.”

“Next you’ll be telling me it’s because you got me into this mess.”

“Works for me!”

“But that’s—”  Ianto stopped himself, trying not to row over this.  Instead of the insipient slanging match, he opted for slightly calmer, if more uncomfortable, honesty.  “C’mon, Jack, there is no happy ever after.  Love means being at the mercy of too many unwanted and irrational emotions and I don’t want that.  I’ve been there, I’ve done it; in retrospect it led to nothing but misery.”

“I won’t argue the case for happy ever after, how can I in my position.  But happy in the moment is a precious thing, it shouldn’t be tossed aside as if it’s irrelevant.”

“I agree.  Happy in the moment: excellent.  But why is a doomed love affair more desirable than after hours sex, re-heated pizza, and no unreasonable expectations?”

“What’s with the doomed and unreasonable?”

“Don’t take the piss.”

“I’m not, I’m…”

“You were poisoned, and if I’d loved you less I’d’ve helped you sooner, d’you realise that?  I was distracted by my feelings and you were reduced to a shambling wreck.”

“Ianto…”

“And what about John Hart?  He uses my feelings for you against me and it works too bloody well, and at everyone’s expense!”

“Ianto…”

“It’s the same for all of us, none of us have any sense.  Did you see how much Tosh suffered over Tommy?  And Owen came even closer to ending the world for Diane than I did for the thing that wasn’t Lisa.  Understand?  I was so in love that I couldn’t see sense.  Lisa – the Lisa – was fucking fantastic and I was so terrified of being parted from her I ignored the fact that she’d died in London.  Look what it cost us all.”

“Ianto…”

“I don’t want to feel like this, I can’t be both happy with my circumstances, and in love, not anymore.  The kind of blind idiot I turn into…”  Ianto ran his fingers through his hair, an anxious, twitchy gesture that spoke volumes about his unhappiness.  “Now I have you.  God help me, Jack, what wouldn’t I do for you.”

“Ianto,” Jack all but shouted, determined to be listened to.

“I can’t…”

“No.  Shut up, my turn.”  Ianto fell obligingly silent.  “Listen to me: I’ve been through this, precisely what you’re experiencing.  But all you’re doing is making excuses to stop yourself getting hurt, and it doesn’t work.  Really.  It doesn’t work.  You lose more than you gain, you just exchange one kind of pain for another, I promise you that.”  Jack braced himself for a response but Ianto remained mute.  “You can talk.  Please.”

Instead of recommencing his tirade, Ianto tilted his head to gaze sadly at Jack.

“I don’t want to make any more mistakes,” he said, quietly now.  “No mistakes, and…  It’s terrible to feel so vulnerable.  The past has proved it: that kind of vulnerability can only lead to despair.”

Jack caught a breath and exhaled it slowly.

“Y’know…  Whether it’s with me or without me, I want you to find some peace of mind.  But if you’re pushing me away because you think I’ll somehow exploit that vulnerability…”

“It’s not you.  I didn’t want to go there, Jack.  I want to be happy and I was happy, exactly as we were, I didn’t need more.”

“Yes, but now there is more I’m not going to let you down, and I won’t allow you to let yourself down.  If I make promises, I keep them.  And I promise…”

“Don’t.”

“I’m facing eternity, that’s something you don’t have to deal with, even if you’re stuck in a drawer for a millennium.  If I want to spend your lifetime with you…”

“This is ridiculous.”

“I don’t – I won’t – get many chances like this.  With you I can be myself, completely and honestly, and you think I’m going to give that up without a fight?  It’s perfectly selfish, I know, but I’m tired of pretending to be normal for people who can never know the truth.  Perfectly selfish, but do I care about that?  Like hell, do I!  Want to know how many partners I’ve had to abandon before they found out I was never going to grow old with them?  Tough if you do, because I’ve lost count.”

“Are you saying that, for you, this is more about convenience than affection?”

“That isn’t…”

“Because in a way it makes it easier.”

“No.  It.  Doesn’t,” Jack stressed.  “Ianto, I know—  Are you really telling me you were genuinely happier when our relationship revolved around the sex?”

“Yes.”  Jack stared accusingly at Ianto.  “No,” Ianto grudgingly conceded, wishing he’d never let Jack find his diary even once.  “It isn’t that…or rather, it is…  I just…”

“Look, I know what it’s like to be in love when you don’t want to be in love.  I know the frustration, the resentment, the sense of being betrayed by your own illogical feelings, the fear it will make you less able, less reliable – I’ve been there, I’ve experienced it all.  You want to hate me for being loveable, that’s fine.  But we’re a good team and I will not allow your insecurity to drive a wedge between us.  All these fears you have?  I respect you but I don’t respect them.  However much I’d like to I can’t brainwash you, but I will prove you wrong, every step of the way.  We’re due happiness in this moment; I have no intention of giving it up.”

With a discontented groan Ianto leant back against the wall, arms defensively crossed, and wearing an air of unmitigated fuck off.

“I don’t hate you.  I have a few issues with me, but…  Ah, shit, I d’know.”

Jack came and ran his hands up Ianto’s tense biceps, gliding over hunched shoulders and stopping when his fingertips could caress Ianto’s neck.  He waited until Ianto met his eyes before continuing.

“Too many years in the future I’ll look back at now, and there’ll be a speck of time that passed so fast, too fast.  All that will be left is the feeling of having something good for the briefest moment.  I could be with you for a century and it would still, in retrospect, be that brief a moment.”

Ianto regarded Jack analytically, trying to judge how much goading it would take to make him back off.

“Tell me then, Captain, in the midst of all this selfishness…  Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Jack answered without hesitation.

“How much?”

Jack’s initial, admittedly rather panicked and wobbly, soul-baring response was quickly swallowed, and Ianto’s analytical look was mirrored as Jack figured out the safest answer possible under the circumstances.  Then he remembered what he’d seen on the CCTV footage of when his mind was AWOL.

“Not quite as much as pepperoni pizza, but far more than a vegetarian special?” he cautiously offered.  The corner of Ianto’s mouth twitched.  “Maybe, one day, you might even mean as much as a Four Seasons,” Jack announced, confidently now.

“Smartarse.”

Jack found himself smiling at the level of affection within the insult.

“My feelings for you are as selfish as the rest of it, but I don’t care, and I honestly doubt that you’ll care too much when you get used to the idea.”

“Or when I lose my mind.”  The snarkiness in Ianto’s voice was entirely wasted on Jack, who chose to believe he’d won this round and looked as pleased as punch for it.

“We’ll move you in tonight?”

Weary of being tense and apprehensive, Ianto mentally filed his misgivings under ‘Hopefully unjustified trepidation’ and half-heartedly let himself be wooed by Jack’s rather endearing happiness at having his blatant self-interest rewarded.  He gave Jack a quick kiss and then brushed him off, turning his attention to the robot that was cluttering up the floor and leaking ghastly-looking fluids onto the previously spotless tiles.

“I’ll clean this up, you write the report?” he suggested to Jack.

“You didn’t answer my question.  How about tonight?”

“I need the camera, I really should take some pictures of this thing.”

“Ianto…”

“Don’t push me,” warned Ianto.  “There’s a lot to come to terms with, and…  I don’t believe it will ever feel right.”

Jack determinedly left love out of it, despite knowing that was exactly what Ianto was referring to.  He was on a roll and certainly not about to sink to the level of his misery-guts of a boyfriend.

“C’mon, we won’t really be living together, we’ll coincidentally be living in the same place,” Jack said with an implausibly straight face.  “And, out of necessity, sharing a bed.  Necessarily sharing a bed a lot.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Then move in for the worst reason you can think of.”

“Such as?”

“You consider me depraved and don’t trust me with Janet?”

“That won’t work, it’s something I came to terms with a long time ago.”

“I can’t be trusted to stay sane without you standing over me, making sure I shoot myself.”

“Not funny.”

“It’s not entirely a joke.  We have to look out for one another.”

“We always—  Oh.  Yes.  That.  How can it keep slipping my mind that one day soon I won’t have a mind for anything to slip?”

“Hart will show his hand soon, then we’ll have both him and the cure.”

Ianto grumbled incomprehensibly to himself as he stomped moodily off to find the camera.  Halfway back to his office Jack’s attention was caught by a report coming in from the local police station: a gut-churning murder in the area where he and Ianto had been chasing the robot.  Victim of their mechanical visitor, regular Welsh psychopath, or a ex-space-hopping madman with a fairly huge axe to grind?  Jack decided to ask for the details and keep this to himself until anything indicated the necessity of Torchwood’s involvement.  He knew that he couldn’t protect Ianto for long, but he’d meant what he’d said about peace of mind.  Once Ianto was living in the Hub and out of Hart’s immediate line of fire, he needed some stress-free time to cope with what he was facing, and if it was in any way possible, Jack would make sure that he had it.

…

By midnight Ianto’s possessions were either sharing Jack’s space in the Hub, or carefully packaged and stored in one of the building’s empty vaults.  Ianto was actually shocked at how little he owned; when Jack commented on it the concept of materialism was derisively brushed aside, but it made Ianto realise how seldom he bothered with life beyond Torchwood.  He made up his mind to do something about that.  Then he remembered that the future might only be a couple of months in length.  The present future, he told himself, the present future.  The future future was another matter entirely.

The present present was standing right in front of him, looking as lost as Ianto felt, just when a little mindless bravado would have gone down a treat.

“What?” Ianto asked.

“Change,” Jack replied, with worrying vagueness.  “What we lose, what we gain.”

“In particular?”

“I was thinking about Owen up here with his plants.  And now…”  Jack snapped back to normal.  “No.  Doesn’t matter.  Not that he doesn’t matter, just…”

“I know.”

“And I know you know.”

“You all right?  Not too tired or anything?”

“No, why do you—  You think it’s starting?  How can it be starting, I died yesterday when I fell off that building.”

“Yes, I know.  Or…I don’t know.  Just for a minute there you got that look.”

“I’m here,” Jack promised.  “Might’ve been distracted for a moment, but…  Hey, I’ve got something for you.  Well, for us.”  Ianto cocked a saucily inquisitive brow and Jack chuckled.  “Not that kind of us.  Although, who knows.  Is there anything we can’t make work?”

Ianto waited with growing curiosity as Jack nipped downstairs to his office, watching his progress through the plate window and fighting to ignore the mental niggle that demanded he accept the fact that he was home, not spending the night with Jack, but home.  He wished Jack would hurry so there wouldn’t be time to think about his situation.  It was ridiculous to be peeved about having to relocate – escaping his haunted bedroom should’ve been a good enough reason alone after all the sleepless nights – but as it wasn’t to a new location of his own choosing, and it hadn’t been exactly on his own terms, he wasn’t likely to be entirely comfortable with it.  He knew Jack wanted him out of harm’s way, and he appreciated him caring, but…  Ianto sighed.  He’d now broken every promise he’d made to himself about the level of involvement he was allowed to have with Jack Harkness.  Grumpy because he didn’t feel bad about that, and he didn’t feel good about that, he wanted Jack to get back so they could move on to some mind-blowing sex that would render him incapable of feeling anything beyond the physical.  The prospect of bodily sensations being elevated to completely new heights was far more desirable than any further futile soul-searching.

“Sorry,” Jack apologised the moment he got back, “there were a couple of reports in from the locals that I needed to check over.”

“Anything for us?”

“No,” Jack semi-lied, before producing a dark grey plastic sack from behind his back and waving it at Ianto.  “I hope this doesn’t make anything worse.”

Ianto reached for the bag, trying to read and recognise the name of the courier service printed on it.  Jack snatched it away.

“Uh-uh-uh.”

“What…”

“You remember when Eleth was here, and she and I were looking for clothes on the internet?”

“Yes.  But I’m surprised you remember.”

“I don’t.  CCTV.”

“Ah.”

“I found a folder in the computer that had a few things saved.  Jack things, and Ianto things.”

“Me things?” Ianto said in surprise.  “You and Eleth…”

“I think it was Eleth, because…”  Jack chuckled.  “Not quite what I’d choose for you.  I picked us one each of what Eleth wanted and got them.  You okay with that?”

The emotional knee-jerk reaction Ianto experienced passed quickly, and yes, he felt very okay with it.

“I like the thought of her – of both of you – choosing something for me.”

“You think?  Brace yourself.”

Jack dipped into the bag and brought out the brightest orange shirt Ianto had ever seen.  Once it was unwrapped and shaken out, it was scarily retro new romantic, frilled down the front and at the cuffs.  Ianto held it up against himself and studied his reflection in the window.

“I’m the dandy highwayman,” he deadpanned, and Jack laughed as he drew his own garment out of the bag to show Ianto.

“You thought yours was garish?  Prepare to have your retinas scorched.”

Jack’s equally orange shirt was actually rather gorgeous once the shock of the colour’s vibrancy had passed: collarless, shiny and slinky, it was almost liquid in quality and slithered sexily through the fingers that assessed and admired it.

“That’s actually…”

Ianto’s mind raced ahead and he fixed a meaningful look on Jack.

“Oh, you like this one?” Jack grinned.

“Put it on,” Ianto said firmly.

“Yeah.”  Jack began to tug off his existing shirt.  “And you put that on.”

Ianto’s tie was being yanked, loosened but still knotted, over his head when he paused, having taken another look at his new shirt.

“Seriously?  You’d fancy me in this?”

“I’d fancy you in that.  Or anything.  Or nothing at all.  Put it on.”

Shaking his head, Ianto finished changing into the orange monstrosity Eleth had chosen for him.  He pirouetted to show it off, only to immediately lose interest in his own apparel in favour of both Jack’s new shirt, and its contents.

“You’re gorgeous,” he groaned.  “Fucking hell, you are gorgeous.”  And he launched himself at Jack.

The frenzied, lustful kisses gradually slowed to a speed where appreciation was more possible and affection more evident.  Ianto ran his hands over Jack’s slinkily-clad torso and moaned appreciatively.

“I’m sorry I’ve wasted the last few days,” Jack whispered against Ianto’s lips.  “It’s all been a bit much.  What I’ve done to you…”

“Stop it.”

“What I let happen to Tosh and Owen…”

“Jack, stop it,” Ianto insisted.  “I know you’re hurting, both of us are, but we move on.”

“Too soon.”

“For you, yes.  So do it for me.  I no longer have time to dwell on what I’ve lost; I want to make the most of what I still have.”

“I wont let Hart win, Ianto, I’ll get that cure for you, and when I do…”

“If you insist on thinking about that bastard right now, imagine him on a mortuary slab, and how hard we’ll celebrate.  Better still, think about him being mortally wounded, and us fucking in front of him as he dies.  What did he like best?  What would he hate missing out on, more than anything?”

Jack tried to turn away, cringing at the subject.

“Ianto…”

“No, c’mon, I’m serious.  Picture it.”  Ianto eased Jack back to him, offering up a wicked smile.  “We’ve got him shackled to the wall, at our mercy.  What would he hate to see more than anything else?”

A few seconds thought and Jack kissed Ianto, gently and lovingly.

“This,” Jack said softly, repeating the kiss.  “He’d hate this.  Hate that what we have isn’t just sex.”

“Oh,” was all Ianto could manage.

“He’d hate to see this because he couldn’t have it.  Not from me.  Never from me.”

Ianto was nodding his understanding as he once again sought Jack’s mouth, and Jack responded with a multitude of kisses, making each and every one deep and sensual and felt, hoping that Ianto would understand that this – being together – was about far more than physical passion.

Of course, Ianto, having a whole other range of issues, was hoping that Jack would stop the lovey-doveyness and make a welcome return to his old self, including the oddly engaging trait of entirely disregarding Ianto’s emotional welfare in the face of hot sex.  Ianto liked that Jack and he wanted him back, there was no need for Jack to metaphorically sweep him off his feet.

“Ianto, I know I don’t always…”

“Shut up, Jack.”

“Uh…why?”

“Because you’re ruining everything.”

“I am?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I…  Wait, I don’t even know what I’m ruining, let alone how I’m ruining it by simply being affectionate.”

“Tell you what: you have a think about that, and meantime I’ll bend you over and fuck you until further thought – and especially speech – becomes an impossibility.”

“So, you don’t want…”

“Jack,” Ianto interrupted him crossly.  “Nothing, and I mean nothing, makes me feel more doomed than you turning sentimental on me.”

“You could be nicer, y’know.  Do you realise the only times you say you love me are when you’re making it into some kind of accusation, or being defensive because you perceive me as…”

“Yes, right, all right.  I’ll say it now, and nicely, and that’s it done, sorted, never again.  I…”

“Never again?”

“Best offer.”

“Okay,” Jack agreed, gesturing for Ianto to say the words.

Ianto took a deep breath and tried so, so hard to be nice.

“I love you, Jack.”

“That was a little…clenched.”

“Tough, it’s all you’re getting.”

“That’s really it?”

“Yup.”

“Never again?”

“Nope.”

“When you say…never again…”

“I mean never again.”

“Even if I’m on my deathbed?”

“You’re always on your bloody deathbed!”

“How about when you’re on your death bed?”

“There’s every chance I’ll be too busy dying.”

Jack’s too serious expression dissolved into giggles.

“You hate this, but I get credit for my efforts, right?”

“Only if, from this point on, you’re very, very good.”

Ianto’s voice was low and gruff, and it inspired a definite twinge in Jack’s groin.

“I can be whatever you want, you know that.  Very, very good, or…”  In a brisk movement, Jack ripped open Ianto’s new shirt, sending buttons flying around the room.  “Whoops.”  The mock contrition was laughable.  “Guess that was very, very bad.”

Jack leant in for a kiss but, instead of warm lips, he met thin air; he barely had time to register that, or his trousers and briefs being unceremoniously yanked down and dragged off, before he found himself being turned and bustled onto the bed, hands and knees.  The sound of Ianto rapidly shedding clothes followed, and soon the mattress was dipping as Ianto crawled onto it, onto Jack, his hands sliding over the slippery shirt, learning anew every muscular curve, every trim plane of his lover’s body, before wrapping a handful of cool material around Jack’s hard cock and gently tugging.

“Fuck me while you do that,” Jack groaned, and Ianto was happy to oblige.

“Lube,” he requested, waving a hand in the direction of the bedside cabinet, waiting for Jack to retrieve the bottle and quickly employing the contents when it was passed over.

Slick fingers pressed into Jack’s body, causing more groans and moans as Jack rocked back and forth, into Ianto’s fist, onto his fingers, until both men were eager for more.  Ianto’s hands disappeared as he retrieved the lube to prepare himself.

“Wait,” Jack told him, reaching into the cabinet drawer and fishing around for a pack of condoms.  The first box he found was offered to Ianto, who simply glared at it.  “C’mon, Ianto.”

“Why bother?  It’s too late, we both have it.”

“We don’t know the consequences of you being re-infected.”

Snatching the box from Jack, Ianto tossed it over his shoulder.

“I don’t care.”

“You must care.”

“It won’t make any difference.”

“We can’t be sure.  What if you’re re-infected and it costs you a month?”

Ianto hesitated.

“Can that happen?”

“I don’t know,” Jack stressed, “that’s why we shouldn’t be taking chances.”

Ianto’s fingers slid back into Jack’s body, distracting him from the debate.

“Is there anything I else I should be concerned about?  Anything else I may have got from your blood?”

“I…  Don’t know about concerned, don’t think so.  I, er…  It’s highly prob…able you’ll never…never get another cold, or flu, or…or…  Fucking hell, Ianto, just—”

“Want me?”

“Yes!”

“Sometimes…  Sometimes, I wish I could split you in two.  Fuck you as you fuck me.”  Ianto grinned as Jack’s body clamped around his fingers.  “You like that idea,” he observed.

“I’m sure…there’s a piece of…alien tech in the archives…”

“Don’t you dare!”

In a brisk, well-practised move, Ianto’s hand flicked away to make room for his cock, and any argument for safer sex was forgotten as, skin on skin, the rigid member breached Jack’s opening and slowly, thoroughly filled him, forcing a long rumbling moan from his throat.

“Oh, that’s good,” Ianto said hoarsely, “you feel good.”

Before Jack could agree, Ianto was rearranging him, awkwardly shuffling them both up the bed toward the headboard so Jack could hold on and lean up, giving Ianto easier access to his torso.  Ianto’s hands slid up to his shoulders, squeezing affectionately before withdrawing, and Jack shuddered furiously as Ianto lightly scratched him through the lamé, creating meandering trails that brought a rush of goose bumps to his skin.  The trails led to Jack abs, his nipples, his ribs, his navel, until, once again, a hand surrounded Jack’s draped erection and Ianto paused to enjoy the sensation of heat seeping through the cool material.

“You’re killing me,” Jack laughed and groaned simultaneously.  “Fuck me.”

With a smug smile, Ianto rolled his hips, infuriatingly slow and measured, treating Jack to one tantalising move after another; the cloth was wet under his fingers when he finally, leisurely, began to slide back and forth, exploring every inch of Jack’s exquisitely silky channel.  Jack wriggled his legs further apart and leant back on Ianto’s cock, forcing it deeper with every insubstantial thrust, and, when Ianto felt Jack’s balls brushing his thighs, the hand that had been resting on Jack’s hip dropped down to gently play with them.

“Stop teasing,” Jack gruffly implored.  “Ianto…”  Jack’s voice was swallowed by a sharp intake of breath as Ianto picked up his pace and his strokes became firmer and far more satisfying.  More pleas and Ianto tugged Jack fully upright, wrapping his arms around Jack’s chest and waist and giving Jack precisely what he wanted, a hard, fast coupling, hot enough to curl his toes.  Expletives merged with demands of don’t stop, don’t stop, and Ianto had no intention of stopping, winding the orange lamé around Jack’s cock for a last time and bringing him to a noisy orgasm with a flurry of slithery strokes.  It was torture to stop himself from coming at the same time, but Ianto managed it.  Just.

He slid out of Jack’s body and turned his partner around, guiding him onto his back and encouraging him to stretch out on the bed.  Kneeling over Jack, Ianto waited for the moment when Jack inevitably seized him by the front of the shirt and pulled him down for a kiss.

“I bet you’ve never been grabbed by the ruffles before,” Jack laughed.

“Yes, that is a fair bet.”

As they kissed, Ianto insinuated himself between Jack’s legs, easing his cock back inside Jack and creaking in his throat with the strain of taking it slowly.  Wary expectation flickered over Jack’s features, but that rapidly passed to leave nothing more than intense desire.

“Oh, God, yes,” he hissed, and Ianto began to move.

It was extraordinary to see Jack squirm as the fine line between pleasure and discomfort was toyed with, his post-climax, overly sensitised body trembling under Ianto’s careful ministrations.  A minor shift in position, and Ianto used his cock to massage Jack’s tender prostate, a precise and deliberate, well-taught and well-practised act, and all the time he watched Jack’s reactions to ensure that discomfort never became pain before a very significant corner was turned.  But there it was, the first tremor that ensured him he was getting this perfectly right.  Jack’s hands clutched at Ianto’s biceps, fingertips leaving bruises that Ianto was quite familiar with, bruises he wore proudly because of what they declared he could do to Jack.  For Jack.  Trembling a little himself with the strain of holding back, Ianto continued to move in that precise fashion as Jack became a gasping, quivering mass of pure need, and just when he knew that he was beyond restraint, that one more hugely erotic groan from his lover would be his undoing, Jack’s eyes rolled back in his head in sheer ecstasy and his body positively quaked as a powerfully intense orgasm was dragged from the very core of his being.  This extraordinary moment was what Ianto had been waited for, what turned him on like nothing else; his own climax tore through him and, triumphantly, he buried himself deep in Jack’s body, almost delirious with the strength of the pleasurable sensations that possessed him.

Ianto collapsed onto Jack, bones turned to jelly and, however much of a daze his mind was temporarily in, knowing he wanted to press a button and stop their lives here, forever remain in this moment of perfect togetherness.  For a long, serene while it seemed as if that button had been pressed.  Then he felt Jack’s arms move to hold him, kisses pressed to his face.

“Conscious?” Jack asked in a jokey whisper.

“Mmm.”

The arms squeezed.

“God, Ianto…  Sometimes I wish I’d never taught you that.”

“Hmm?”

“Sometimes, but…not often.”

Exploiting the last of his energy, Ianto propped himself up on his elbows, admiring and appreciating Jack’s relaxed and smiling face.

“You’re fabulous,” Jack told him, affection heaped upon sincerity.

And Jack was irresistible; Ianto leant down and kissed him with all the feeling that he presently had no inclination or wish to deny.

“I love you, Jack.”

The words were warm, and honest, and entirely free of resentment.  Jack’s eyes squeezed shut as he fought to keep his emotions in check, only to have Ianto coax them open with more sweet and undemanding kisses.

“Thank you,” Jack eventually replied, and then, in an inspired moment of getting something absolutely right, chose not to return the sentiment.  Instead there were more kisses before Jack stripped them of their remaining clothes and repositioned them, making Ianto as comfortable as possible, determined that the emotionally bruised and battered young man should get a good night’s sleep.

“I was thinking,” Ianto yawned, “tomorrow we should…”

“Stop that, stop thinking.  Get some rest.”

Feeling secure in his lover’s embrace and his fortified, ghost-free new home, Ianto tried his best to take Jack’s advice.  But instead of thinking about work, his last few minutes of consciousness focused on the future, and whether he could be re-infected and lose a month of his now exceedingly short life, and how Jack would cope without him when he was frozen, or if he’d fall into the habit of talking to Ianto the way Ianto now talked to Toshiko.

The last thing he saw as his weary eyes drifted shut was the hourglass he’d given to Jack.  However fervent a wish it had been to have time stand still, however much he told himself to believe in the possibilities of somewhat magical cures, that empty vessel with its poignant message was far more convincing.  Not only were precious seconds wasting away, they were very possibly running out.