"Congratulations! Owen Harper, Purveyor of Jellied Eels, is back in business," Jack said.
"And doing quite well for himself," Tosh added, fingers flying on her laptop as images from flickered across the Boardroom screen. "Profits are up five percent last quarter and he's added three more franchises. Now it's time for a little well-earned R&R."
Owen groaned. "Guys, the last time I used that identity I got hit on by that Creepy McCreepserston of an estate agent and then was nearly killed by a Weevil. Could we at least pick a cover story that doesn't have so many bad associations?"
"The last part was your own fault, Owen," Jack chided. "You were just supposed to find where they took the Weevil, not go all Randy Couture on it. As for the creeper, well, I'm sorry about that. Even I didn't like him, and that's saying something. But I think I can guarantee that that won't happen this time." Jack smiled in what was meant to be a reassuring manner, but something was off.
"There's something you're not telling me. I know that that smirk. What is it that you're not telling me?"
Gwen giggled.
"What is it? Somebody better tell me what's going on or I'm flat out refusing this mission and you can shoot me for treason if you want. I don't care."
Jack, Gwen and Tosh exchanged glances.
Tosh spoke up. "Well, we decided that the best way to gather more information on the aliens that are smuggling Rift artifacts on luxury liners was to take a cruise on one of their ships..." she began, but was interrupted by Owen.
"I know. I already agreed to that. So what's so funny?"
"Well, we booked you on the next available cruise and..." she turned pink and broke off.
Owen glared at her as realization sunk in. "Oh no. It's a gay cruise, isn't it? You've booked me on a gay cruise!"
Gwen covered her mouth with her hands but not before more giggles escaped.
Owen rounded on Jack. "Is this your idea of a joke, Harkness? A bunch of men in the middle of the sea, all horned up and nowhere to go-and me? Why the hell don't you go? It's your wet dream come true."
"I can't, Owen. These aliens and I, well, we have a bit of a history. They might recognize me, and if they do, months of investigation would go down the drain. I can't take that chance."
"So send Ianto then. Or is it that you can't bear the thought of letting his perky little arse loose on a ship full of buffed-up boys looking for a good time?"
"Oh, he's going," Ianto intoned, entering the room bearing a tray of steaming coffees. "How could he possibly pass up such an opportunity when you put it like that?"
"You're both going," Jack clarified. "I know, I don't like it much either, actually, but it makes sense. The two of you can cover more ground than one, back each other up if it gets dangerous, and reinforce each others' cover stories."
Owen narrowed his eyes. "Cover stories? Who's he meant to be then, my assistant? What's he going to do, carry the jars of eels for me?"
"Not your assistant. Your husband," Gwen clarified.
"MY WHAT?" Owen roared. "Who the hell's idea was that?"
"I can assure you it wasn't mine," Ianto said.
The rest of Team exchanged glances again. "It was... kind of a group decision," Tosh explained. "It just made the most sense. Jack can't go, and you're the next-ranking male member of the team. Ianto accompanying you is a good thing. If people think you're married, that will stop them from hitting on you. No more creepers."
"No offense, Tosh, but you don't know gay men that well, do you?"
"And you're a veritable font of information on the subject," Ianto said.
"You'll be fine," Jack assured him.
Owen looked pained. "For how long?"
"Two weeks."
"Two WEEKS?! Trapped in a tiny cabin with Mr. OCD here? I bet he can't sleep if his shoes aren't spit-shined and perfectly alined in parallel rows. I'm, well, more casual. How's that going to work, exactly?"
"Oh, calm down, Owen. He's not that bad," said Jack. "I've seen him fall asleep loads of times when the parallel rows of shoes were not perfectly aligned."
"I notice that nobody is saying, 'calm down, Ianto,' observed Ianto. "Of the two of us, I think I have more right to be upset."
Jack patted Ianto's hand reassuringly. Ianto rolled his eyes.
"Him... and me?" Owen sputtered. "Who the hell would buy that, anyway? It's absurd."
"Indeed," Ianto said. "I can clearly do so much better. If you were a doctor, it might make sense, but as you're just an entrepreneur, I'm having difficulty understanding what I see in you."
Owen turned on Ianto. "How can you sit there and make jokes? You're in on this, aren't you? This is your revenge for all those times I said I was going to clean up and didn't, innit?
"If I were trying to get revenge on myself, maybe."
"Listen to you two!" Gwen laughed. "You're bickering like an old married couple. You're perfect!"
"You stay out of this, Cooper," Own scowled.
"Settle down, all of you," Jack said. "No one said it would be a match made in Heaven. You just have to tolerate each other for a couple of weeks while you get the job done."
"Match made in Heaven?" Owen snorted. "Match made in Hell, more like."
"I'm inclined to agree," Ianto said. "This is going to be difficult."
Owen's eyes opened wide with surprise. "You never agree with me about anything."
"There, see? You're starting to get along better already," Gwen laughed. "Maybe there's wedding bells in the future."
"More like funeral bells. For you," snarled Owen.
Ianto frowned at Gwen, his habitually dour expression morphing into a fearsome glower. "I agree with Owen. Again."
"I think Hell just froze over," Owen muttered.
Jack stood. "Meeting dismissed!"