immediately following "unknown."
Takes place immediately after this.
***
The first thing Ianto notices when he wakes up a second time is that his trousers are missing.
"Did you take off my trousers while I was sleeping?" he tries to ask, but his face is mashed into the pillow, and he's rather sure Jack can't hear him. He rolls onto his back, wincing at the lingering ache in his muscles, and trapping Jack's arm beneath him.
"Trousers," he repeats. Jack cracks an eye open. "You took them off."
"You looked uncomfortable," Jack says. "I couldn't help myself."
"One of those two things is true," Ianto says. Jack just smirks and leans into kiss him, frowning when Ianto thwarts him with a raised hand. "I've been vomiting all morning. We're not going to kiss."
Jack tugs his arm back and leans over Ianto, over the side of the bed, to rescue his own trousers from the floor. He pulls a box of mints out of the pocket.
"Don't say I never gave you anything," Jack says, shaking one out and handing it to Ianto.
"Thank you," Ianto says, because any other response to that off-hand comment would reveal far too much, and Ianto is too tired to keep it hidden away right now.
"How about you suck on that," Jack says, raising a lewd eyebrow, "and I suck on something else?"
Ianto rolls his eyes. "Do those lines even work on people?"
"They worked on you," Jack points out.
"Did not." It comes out sounding slurred and slightly petulant as he sucks the mint against his teeth, willing the foul taste in his mouth to dissipate. "I made the first move."
"That's right," Jack says, his hand sliding down Ianto's chest, pushing aside the tails of his shirt to rest on his stomach. "Why don't you remind me what you did?"
Ianto squeezes Jack's wrist sharply.
"You know the rules," he murmurs, "no sex in Owen's flat."
"Rules are made to be broken," Jack says.
"Not this one." Jack's hand tries to slip further south and Ianto squeezes his wrist again. "I mean it, he's probably right outside."
Jack sighs dramatically and returns his hand to its former position, the palm covering Ianto's navel, his fingers spread across his stomach.
"Fine," he says, burying his nose in Ianto's hair. The single bed Ianto has at Owen's flat is bigger than the one in Jack's quarters at the Hub, but much smaller than the one at Ianto's flat. It's definitely not designed to hold two grown men, but Ianto likes the excuse for closeness. His muscles still ache and his lungs are burning. He knows he should be kicking Jack out and probably following him as well, but for the moment he's going to luxuriate in being warm and relaxed and safe.
"Do you remember my friend Martha?" Jack asks. "I introduced you at that UNIT conference last month?"
"Yes," Ianto says, opening his eyes and giving Jack a Look. "We're not having a threesome, Jack. We're not having a threesome with Gwen. We're not having a threesome with Kathy Swanson. We're not having a threesome with your friend Martha."
Jack laughs, well and truly laughs. Not a condescending chuckle or some kind of flirty giggle, but an actual laugh.
"Oh, I do love the way you think, Ianto Jones," he says. Ianto would flush in embarrassment if he wasn't so bloody tired. "No, not a threesome," he says. "She's a doctor."
"Yes," Ianto says. "I remember. With UNIT. You... travelled together." He doesn't know why they still use euphemisms when talking about the Doctor. Well, rather, he doesn't know why Jack uses them. He knows why he uses them; the Doctor is bloody hard to compete with. Ianto likes to remind Jack of him as little as possible.
"Yep," Jack says. Jack's fingers gently stroke his stomach. Not exciting, not arousing, just gently petting. "I've asked her to come stay with us for a few months. Temporary secondment. I want her to be our new doctor."
Ianto sucks a breath in through his teeth so fast he almost swallows his mint.
"Owen is--" he starts to say immediately, but stops. He doesn't know how to end that sentence. Owen is lucid sometimes, but not often enough to be on call 24/7. Owen mostly still knows what's happening around him, but he's already admitted to the start of hallucinations. Owen still has all of that medical knowledge stored in his brain, but when he misses his meds he gets so paranoid that he doesn't know how to use it.
Owen is of no use to them. Everyone else accepted it a long time ago. Ianto can't bring himself to embrace it.
"Owen," Ianto says again, plaintively, and Jack kisses his forehead.
"I know," he says. "I know you're... I know you...." He frowns. "Well, okay, I'm not entirely sure what you two are to each other, but I know it's important to you. But... Ianto, if we had been a few minutes later getting you that antidote last night... I'm not ready... I wont, I can't bury you yet. Any of you."
Ianto swallows past the lump in his throat. Most of the night is a blur. He doesn't remember it being that close.
"We need a doctor," Jack continues. "We're damn lucky nothing has happened that's too much for A&E. We're not going to be this lucky forever."
"He's still... lucid," Ianto says. It's not entirely a lie. He's lucid right now, or at least he was the last time Ianto saw him. It's not enough, though. He knows better than anyone. No one sees him unless he's together enough to leave the flat, no one else has to live through the screaming and the babbling and the misery when he's not well enough for company. No one else has to hold him while he cries and hold him back while he rages and he should understand better than any of them why Owen isn't a viable team member at the moment, but he's shocked to realize everyone else has long since figured it out.
"Ianto," Jack says softly, indulgently. "Ianto, Ianto, Ianto. I know you care."
"It's not just that," Ianto protests feebly. "I just... you trusted him to watch me last night."
Jack shakes his head slowly and reaches over, cupping Ianto's cheek, running his thumb over the arch of Ianto's cheekbone. He leans Ianto's face towards his and kisses him chastely.
"I know you understand," Jack says when he pulls away. Ianto closes his eyes and nods.
"Doesn't mean I have to like it," he says. "Owen--"
"If Owen gets better," Jack says, "he can have his old job back. I wouldn't want anyone else. But in the mean time, Martha's very good. And I'm vetting a couple of other people, but I'd like your input. You're much better at this sort of thing than I am."
Ianto bites his lip and nods numbly. He knows that Jack is humoring him. He knows that the odds of Owen getting better are slim, and even if they find the right combination of medications to keep him lucid and functioning and alert, it might be years until he's stable enough to come back to Torchwood. If it ever happens at all.
"Good," Jack says. He slides the hand on Ianto's stomach over to his hip and squeezes it. "How are you feeling? Still sore?" Ianto nods again. "Want to get back to sleep? The girls are covering until dinner time, since I was out all night. They said they'll call if anything catastrophic happens. Not exactly the way I planned on us spending our next day off together, but you should go back to sleep."
"Sure," Ianto says. He's exhausted and every muscle in his body feels like it was wrung out and twisted into knots, but he's having trouble turning his brain off. He rolls onto his side and covers Jack's hand with his own, closing his eyes.
He knows what Jack says is true. He knows that they need a doctor, that they're limping along without one. He knows that next time it might not be a venom they have an antidote for, or a twisted ankle that can be taken care of in A&E.
He knows, but as he slips back into a troubled sleep, he still feels like he's betraying Owen.
***
On the other side of the door, Owen quietly places the plate of toast and glass of water on the table next to Ianto's bedroom door. He curls his hands into fists and tries to steady his breathing.
This isn't right. Jack fucking Harkness is poisoning Ianto against him. After everything he's done for Ianto. After everything he's done for Jack.
He swallows the scream that's lodged in his throat and retreats, hastily, to his bedroom.
The sound of the door slamming reverberates through the apartment.
***
The first thing Ianto notices when he wakes up a second time is that his trousers are missing.
"Did you take off my trousers while I was sleeping?" he tries to ask, but his face is mashed into the pillow, and he's rather sure Jack can't hear him. He rolls onto his back, wincing at the lingering ache in his muscles, and trapping Jack's arm beneath him.
"Trousers," he repeats. Jack cracks an eye open. "You took them off."
"You looked uncomfortable," Jack says. "I couldn't help myself."
"One of those two things is true," Ianto says. Jack just smirks and leans into kiss him, frowning when Ianto thwarts him with a raised hand. "I've been vomiting all morning. We're not going to kiss."
Jack tugs his arm back and leans over Ianto, over the side of the bed, to rescue his own trousers from the floor. He pulls a box of mints out of the pocket.
"Don't say I never gave you anything," Jack says, shaking one out and handing it to Ianto.
"Thank you," Ianto says, because any other response to that off-hand comment would reveal far too much, and Ianto is too tired to keep it hidden away right now.
"How about you suck on that," Jack says, raising a lewd eyebrow, "and I suck on something else?"
Ianto rolls his eyes. "Do those lines even work on people?"
"They worked on you," Jack points out.
"Did not." It comes out sounding slurred and slightly petulant as he sucks the mint against his teeth, willing the foul taste in his mouth to dissipate. "I made the first move."
"That's right," Jack says, his hand sliding down Ianto's chest, pushing aside the tails of his shirt to rest on his stomach. "Why don't you remind me what you did?"
Ianto squeezes Jack's wrist sharply.
"You know the rules," he murmurs, "no sex in Owen's flat."
"Rules are made to be broken," Jack says.
"Not this one." Jack's hand tries to slip further south and Ianto squeezes his wrist again. "I mean it, he's probably right outside."
Jack sighs dramatically and returns his hand to its former position, the palm covering Ianto's navel, his fingers spread across his stomach.
"Fine," he says, burying his nose in Ianto's hair. The single bed Ianto has at Owen's flat is bigger than the one in Jack's quarters at the Hub, but much smaller than the one at Ianto's flat. It's definitely not designed to hold two grown men, but Ianto likes the excuse for closeness. His muscles still ache and his lungs are burning. He knows he should be kicking Jack out and probably following him as well, but for the moment he's going to luxuriate in being warm and relaxed and safe.
"Do you remember my friend Martha?" Jack asks. "I introduced you at that UNIT conference last month?"
"Yes," Ianto says, opening his eyes and giving Jack a Look. "We're not having a threesome, Jack. We're not having a threesome with Gwen. We're not having a threesome with Kathy Swanson. We're not having a threesome with your friend Martha."
Jack laughs, well and truly laughs. Not a condescending chuckle or some kind of flirty giggle, but an actual laugh.
"Oh, I do love the way you think, Ianto Jones," he says. Ianto would flush in embarrassment if he wasn't so bloody tired. "No, not a threesome," he says. "She's a doctor."
"Yes," Ianto says. "I remember. With UNIT. You... travelled together." He doesn't know why they still use euphemisms when talking about the Doctor. Well, rather, he doesn't know why Jack uses them. He knows why he uses them; the Doctor is bloody hard to compete with. Ianto likes to remind Jack of him as little as possible.
"Yep," Jack says. Jack's fingers gently stroke his stomach. Not exciting, not arousing, just gently petting. "I've asked her to come stay with us for a few months. Temporary secondment. I want her to be our new doctor."
Ianto sucks a breath in through his teeth so fast he almost swallows his mint.
"Owen is--" he starts to say immediately, but stops. He doesn't know how to end that sentence. Owen is lucid sometimes, but not often enough to be on call 24/7. Owen mostly still knows what's happening around him, but he's already admitted to the start of hallucinations. Owen still has all of that medical knowledge stored in his brain, but when he misses his meds he gets so paranoid that he doesn't know how to use it.
Owen is of no use to them. Everyone else accepted it a long time ago. Ianto can't bring himself to embrace it.
"Owen," Ianto says again, plaintively, and Jack kisses his forehead.
"I know," he says. "I know you're... I know you...." He frowns. "Well, okay, I'm not entirely sure what you two are to each other, but I know it's important to you. But... Ianto, if we had been a few minutes later getting you that antidote last night... I'm not ready... I wont, I can't bury you yet. Any of you."
Ianto swallows past the lump in his throat. Most of the night is a blur. He doesn't remember it being that close.
"We need a doctor," Jack continues. "We're damn lucky nothing has happened that's too much for A&E. We're not going to be this lucky forever."
"He's still... lucid," Ianto says. It's not entirely a lie. He's lucid right now, or at least he was the last time Ianto saw him. It's not enough, though. He knows better than anyone. No one sees him unless he's together enough to leave the flat, no one else has to live through the screaming and the babbling and the misery when he's not well enough for company. No one else has to hold him while he cries and hold him back while he rages and he should understand better than any of them why Owen isn't a viable team member at the moment, but he's shocked to realize everyone else has long since figured it out.
"Ianto," Jack says softly, indulgently. "Ianto, Ianto, Ianto. I know you care."
"It's not just that," Ianto protests feebly. "I just... you trusted him to watch me last night."
Jack shakes his head slowly and reaches over, cupping Ianto's cheek, running his thumb over the arch of Ianto's cheekbone. He leans Ianto's face towards his and kisses him chastely.
"I know you understand," Jack says when he pulls away. Ianto closes his eyes and nods.
"Doesn't mean I have to like it," he says. "Owen--"
"If Owen gets better," Jack says, "he can have his old job back. I wouldn't want anyone else. But in the mean time, Martha's very good. And I'm vetting a couple of other people, but I'd like your input. You're much better at this sort of thing than I am."
Ianto bites his lip and nods numbly. He knows that Jack is humoring him. He knows that the odds of Owen getting better are slim, and even if they find the right combination of medications to keep him lucid and functioning and alert, it might be years until he's stable enough to come back to Torchwood. If it ever happens at all.
"Good," Jack says. He slides the hand on Ianto's stomach over to his hip and squeezes it. "How are you feeling? Still sore?" Ianto nods again. "Want to get back to sleep? The girls are covering until dinner time, since I was out all night. They said they'll call if anything catastrophic happens. Not exactly the way I planned on us spending our next day off together, but you should go back to sleep."
"Sure," Ianto says. He's exhausted and every muscle in his body feels like it was wrung out and twisted into knots, but he's having trouble turning his brain off. He rolls onto his side and covers Jack's hand with his own, closing his eyes.
He knows what Jack says is true. He knows that they need a doctor, that they're limping along without one. He knows that next time it might not be a venom they have an antidote for, or a twisted ankle that can be taken care of in A&E.
He knows, but as he slips back into a troubled sleep, he still feels like he's betraying Owen.
***
On the other side of the door, Owen quietly places the plate of toast and glass of water on the table next to Ianto's bedroom door. He curls his hands into fists and tries to steady his breathing.
This isn't right. Jack fucking Harkness is poisoning Ianto against him. After everything he's done for Ianto. After everything he's done for Jack.
He swallows the scream that's lodged in his throat and retreats, hastily, to his bedroom.
The sound of the door slamming reverberates through the apartment.