I.

Owen had been expecting some files from Martha Jones, so when he found the large official-looking envelope on his desk, he grabbed it and headed down to the medical bay. He thought he saw a UNIT logo somewhere, but didn't stop to wonder why it was a rather squishy, odd-shaped package. He wanted to know more about the alien corpse they'd found three days ago, so he tore it open and stuck his hand inside.

And pulled out a pair of trousers.

Red trousers.

Red, lace trousers.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, dropping the offensive item as if it might burn his fingers. He poked it with his foot. Yes, definitely red lace trousers. Flowers and vines and very, very sheer. For the love of god…

"Harkness!" he shouted. "Get your arse over here!"

He grabbed a pair of forceps and picked up the undergarment. When Jack leaned over the railing, grinned, and opened his mouth to speak, Owen held up his other hand to stop the man.

"Shut up. Down here. Now."

Jack's eyes widened at Owen's tone, but he hurried down the stairs and stopped in front of the doctor with his hands tucked into his pockets, the grin less blinding but threatening to burst at any moment.

"What's the problem, Owen? Can't decide what to wear tomorrow? Or doesn't it fit?"

"Sod off," Owen snapped. He shook the red lace trousers at Jack. "What the hell is this?"

Jack bit his lip and shrugged. "Looks like a rather breezy pair of trousers."

"Breezy?" Owen repeated. "Jack, this is ridiculous. These are red lace lounge pants. And they were on my desk, in my mail!"

Jack raised an eyebrow, and his chin quivered. "Secret admirer?" he asked.

"Yeah, apparently Martha Jones," Owen snapped. "I was expecting files. Why the hell is Martha sending us red underwear?"

Jack frowned. "I don't know. I asked for a red hat last time she was here." At Owen's look of confusion, he continued. "You know, those sexy UNIT caps? The red berets? I wanted one for—"

"Stop," Owen cut him off. "I really don't want to know. So you're saying this should be a hat? The problem is that it was addressed to me, not you."

"Maybe she thought you'd like it?" Jack suggested. He took a step back when Owen glared at him. "Honestly, I have no idea. They are kind of sexy, though. You know who'd look good in them?"

"I don't care," Owen replied. "I'm burning them."

"What?" Jack exclaimed. He reached for the trousers, but Owen dangled them out of his reach. "No, don't do that! I'll take them if you don't want them."

"I'm sure you would," Owen said. "And then parade around the Hub in them, which is why I'm burning them. Save us all the trauma."

"What trauma?" asked Ianto, appearing over the railing. "Oh. I see." He cleared his throat. "Nice choice of undergarments, Owen."

Owen and Jack turned toward him. "Martha sent them," Owen said. "I was expecting files and instead I got filth."

"They're not that bad," Jack protested.

"Jack, it's like something from a seventies porn flick. Can't you at least ask her for something normal, like a UNIT keychain or something?"

"Not as much fun," said Jack. "Those look much more entertaining. Hand them over."

"No way," said Owen. "Jones, I'm doing this for you."

"I appreciate your concern, Doctor," Ianto replied dryly. Jack started reaching for them again.

"Come on, Owen. Just give 'em up. You don't want them, so why can't I have them? Martha sent them all this way, someone should enjoy them."

"Yeah, you or the teaboy?"

Ianto cleared his throat. "Not interested."

Jack whirled on him. "What? But they're hot! Look at them! They're the perfect size for—"

"For what, Jack?" asked Ianto, leaning on the railing. "For you? Did you plan to wear them for us tomorrow?"

"Well, no," said Jack. "I was sort of thinking…er, hoping…well…"

Ianto stood straight. "Not a chance." He pulled a red UNIT cap from inside his jacket pocket. "Uniforms only. Burn it, Owen." With that he turned and left, leaving both men speechless.

"I really didn't need to see that," Owen muttered. Jack, however, was wide-eyed, his mouth half open.

"I did," he said. He darted up the stairs. "Go ahead and get rid of it. I don't need it after all."

"Too much information!" Owen called after him. He sighed and dropped the lacy trousers into the rubbish bin. He couldn't be arsed going downstairs to the incinerator. Glancing back at the envelope that had started the whole nightmarish exchange, Owen looked inside, but it was empty. He frowned, wondering where the files were. Heading upstairs to look for them, he almost ran into Ianto, thankfully sans UNIT beret, holding out a large sheaf of papers.

"Looking for this?" he asked. His face was straight, but Owen could hear the smirk in the Welshman's voice.

"You planted that envelope, didn't you?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "If you say so."

"I do. That was low," Owen said. "I might have to bleach my brain."

"Just taking advantage when opportunity presents itself," Ianto replied. He was still smirking behind the dry demeanor.

"Of course," Owen muttered. "So did you buy it for him, or did he get it for you? You're both so depraved now I have no idea."

Ianto smiled at him, a snarky grin that made Owen want to rip the man's lips off sometimes. "Gwen ordered it for Rhys," he said. "I merely borrowed it." He tipped his head. "Enjoy the files Martha sent."

He left Owen groaning behind him. Glancing down at the rubbish bin in the medical bay, he decided he'd burn them after he finished going through the new files. And if burning the red lace trousers meant he could forget everything that had happened in the last ten minutes, he'd stand in front of the fire all day.

Author's Notes
Some lighthearted fun in honor of Valentine's Day. Two more parts - enjoy!