When a person really desires something, all the universe conspires to help that person to realize his dream. ~Paulo Coelho

i. He's in your kitchen?

Tosh sensed that something was different the moment she stepped out of the lift—before she passed through the cog door, before she took off her coat, before she logged on for the day. Not only was it dark and quiet, but the air itself felt different. Her instinct screamed at her that something was wrong, though another part of her racing mind tried to calm down that instinct and tell it to stop overreacting.

She didn't smell any coffee.

It was early, but Ianto always had coffee brewing by the time she arrived in the morning. Sometimes he'd even start a second pot for Gwen and Owen, depending on how his latest sparring match with Owen was playing out. If Owen was winning, Ianto served them reheated coffee when they came in later. If Ianto was winning the unspoken score count, he reminded Owen by brewing a fresh pot and adding a biscuit. He was devious like that sometimes.

Yet rare had been the instances when Tosh had arrived to work and not been welcomed by the heavenly scent of roasted coffee beans wafting through the Hub, especially on a weekday. It made getting up and dragging herself down to the bay in the middle of a cold rainstorm at seven in the morning slightly easier to accept. Yet today, with a biting wind blowing leaves everywhere and making it worse, she had no hot coffee to quell her deep irritation and even deeper desire to go back to bed.

Usually if Ianto were late, he'd at least let her (and the others, but mostly her and Jack) know about it, and usually that was only if he was sick or injured. And as she hadn't received a text or email detailing any overnight injuries or illnesses, she couldn't help but be concerned.

Still, she tried to quiet her inner fears and logged in, checking the system to see if perhaps Ianto had gone out with Jack on an early morning call. Nothing. She frowned at her computer screen, glanced at the coffee maker and Ianto's empty station, then walked into Jack's office, which was when she realized something else: Jack wasn't around either. That would explain the darkness and the silence.

Now her heart started racing, and she thought about calling the others in a panic until she realized she should just call Jack or Ianto directly. There was probably a perfectly rational explanation, after all. She decided to start with Ianto; Jack still kept his own hours much of the time, and it was more unusual for Ianto to be missing than for Jack.

Sad but true.

She waited half an hour to make sure she didn't come off as an over-anxious mother hen, then couldn't stand it anymore when neither man arrived at work. Ianto's mobile rang and rang. She was about to hang up when a deep voice grunted into the speaker.

"Whasgoinon?"

"Ianto?" Tosh asked, slightly surprised at the sleepy, slurred sound to Ianto's voice. Was he still in bed? Was he injured? Was he sick? Was he…no, not Ianto, not in the middle of the week…hungover? "Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine, Tosh," said Ianto, yawning into the phone. "Is everything all right with you?"

"Well, yes," Tosh replied. Ianto didn't seem phased at all by the fact that he wasn't at work. "Only I'm here alone. Where is everyone?" He did claim to know everything.

There was a very inelegant snort on the other end of the line. "I suspect they're all still in bed. Which is probably where you should be as well, Tosh. It's pissing down rain outside."

"But it's well after eight, Ianto," Tosh replied, wondering when the weather started bothering Ianto enough that he would stay home and inside. He was Welsh; he should be used to it. "You're never this late, and Jack's out. Was there a late night call?"

"Just a tech retrieval." Ianto yawned again. "Boring."

"Were you injured?"

"Nope."

Tosh frowned. One word answers from Ianto were not that uncommon, but they were usually the product of his dry wit. Or his unflagging ability to keep a secret. Yet Ianto was clearly not going for drollness, nor did he sound like he was hiding anything. For some reason Tosh only sensed…laziness, as if Ianto couldn't be arsed to talk. He must be tired, or distracted. Oh. Maybe he had company (in bed) and didn't want to talk in front of them.

"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked, lowering her voice.

"Positive," he said. "Doing exactly what I should be doing right now: laying in bed."

"Er, are you coming in to work?"

"I'll be in later this morning, I suppose."

"Good." She was silent for a moment. "Do you know where Jack is? I didn't want to bother him if he was chasing a Weevil or…you know…"

There was that snort again. Where did that come from? "On the pull?" Ianto finished. "He's in the kitchen. I think he's making muffins."

"The kitchen?" Tosh repeated. "Here at the Hub?"

"'Course not," Ianto laughed. "He's in my kitchen. I smell banana nut and cinnamon apple, I think."

"He's in your kitchen? Baking?" Tosh wasn't quite sure which was harder to wrap her brain around: Jack at Ianto's flat, or Jack baking muffins. But Jack baking muffins at Ianto's flat first thing in the morning had to be Rift-related for sure.

She stopped. Or maybe not. She didn't know much, but she knew they'd had some sort of affair before Jack had left. Had they hooked up again in the three months since Jack had been back? Had Jack gone on the pull…and pulled Ianto? Or was it the other way around? Tosh wasn't all that surprised and hoped it worked out for them this time, but Gwen would be stunned. And Owen, he would take the piss for sure…

Tosh shook herself again, her initial thoughts distracted by too many other thoughts. Ianto was saying something about them coming in when the muffins were done and after they had cleaned up. She could almost hear the leer in his voice and the obvious insinuation of a quick shag in the shower, and stared at her phone as he ended the call.

Something was definitely wrong.

Ianto kept his secrets close, his personal life private. Torchwood One, his family, Lisa, his previous relationship with Jack. He'd only shared the minimum of information with Tosh, and it was completely unlike him to not only admit that Jack had spent the night, but that they were going to be late for personal reasons.

Then Owen breezed in, and the world got even stranger. He was wearing a new pair of fitted jeans (yes, she did notice these things) with a button down shirt and nice shoes. He'd lost the leather jacket and was wearing a wool pea coat that looked like it belonged to Ianto instead. And he was carrying a bag of pastries from the local bakery that kept them on a sugar high most mornings. Only Owen never brought in pastries, which was how she knew something was going on, aside from the lack of baggy jeans, tee shirt, and leather.

"Good morning, Owen!" she called, telling her inner voice to shut up again since he had pastries and looked good. He greeted her with a smile—also unusual, since Owen was not a morning person. Tosh considered writing everything down, all these strange symptoms she was noticing in her coworkers. Maybe it would help her make sense of what was going on, because something was definitely going on. She pulled out a pad of paper and began to make notes as Owen hung up his coat in the medical bay, then bounded back upstairs and handed her the bag of pastries.

"Good morning, Tosh!" he replied, and he sounded reasonably cheerful. It was so unnatural that Tosh casually reached out and started a scan on one of her computers for alien possession.

"Strawberry Welsh cake?" he asked. "I know they're your favorite."

"Thanks, Owen," she replied, completely gobsmacked. How the hell had he known that? He never paid attention to those sorts of things, even after working together for years. She knew his favorite pub, his favorite Chinese dish, his favorite movie, and even his favorite porn site (it was hard not to, given how often he surfed it at work.) She wondered if he even knew her full name some days. After a few bites, she got her voice back. "Trying a new look?"

Owen glanced down at himself and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess," he replied. "I used to dress like this, before I started chasing aliens around Wales." Tosh nodded, reached for her pad of paper, and added the symptom to the list.

"It suits you," she said, nodding shyly, then turned away when Owen gave her another unnatural smile. She talked over her shoulder. "Hey, do you know anything about the tech retrieval last night? Ianto mentioned it on the phone."

Owen frowned as he glanced around. "He's not here."

"He's at home," Tosh told him. "I called him to make sure he was all right."

"There's no coffee," Owen said, staring at the coffeemaker. "I bought pastries, and teaboy isn't even here to make coffee."

"He's still in bed. Maybe he's not feeling well? He said there was a retrieval, although he said it was boring."

Owen snorted. It sounded a lot like Ianto's snort, and she wondered who had picked it up from whom. "Boring is a compliment. Just a little black box with a bunch of buttons. Looked like some kind of wireless speaker or something, but hell if I know what it was. Probably space junk."

"Where is it?" she asked, and he shrugged.

"Jack's probably stashed it away already."

"Jack's not here either," Tosh said, and Owen crossed his arms over his chest.

"Where's Jack?" he asked suspiciously.

"Er…"

"Tosh. Where is Jack?" Tosh bit her tongue. "Breakfast?" She shook her head. " Roof?" She shook it again. "Time machine?"

"No! Of course not."

"Tosh."

"HesatIantosflat," she spilled in a rush, hoping she didn't have to say it again. To her surprise, Owen pumped his fist in the air.

"I knew it! He spent the night, didn't he? Ianto's back to shagging the boss."

"I don't know, I really don't," said Tosh. "But Jack was there, baking in Ianto's kitchen."

"Huh." Owen went still, his eyes distant as if trying to picture it. "Didn't know Jack baked." How was it that Owen was more surprised by Jack's kitchen habits than his sexual partner?

"Or that he was sleeping with Ianto again," Tosh pointed out.

"No wonder he's still in bed. I bet Harkness kept him up all night," Owen said, then smirked at his double entendre.

"Something funny is going on, Owen. Jack going on a baking binge, Ianto staying in bed so late, you showing up here cheerful and all…cleaned up. It's just not right."

"Thanks," said Owen, his normal sarcasm coming through as he headed back down to the medical bay. "Didn't realize I had reputation for being such a slob."

"You wouldn't care if you did!" Tosh called down at him. He ignored her and turned on the computer, pulling up some music. Instead of his normal tastes in alternative and indie rock, she found herself frowning as the strains of a soprano singing in Italian filled the air. Opera? Owen and opera? She decided that she needed to talk to Jack immediately. She needed to look at whatever they had found the previous night, because she had a feeling it was making all three of them act very, very strange.

Author's Note:

Just something a bit more lighthearted after my last story. Short, simple, and just about done so quick updates. Also all from Tosh's point of view, which is new for me and quite fun! Thanks for reading—I hope you enjoy it because my next two are quite different.