A Clean Shave

"Oi, teaboy, you're bleeding." Ianto ignored him, continuing toward his station as if he hadn't heard anything. Owen frowned, hoping the Welshman wasn't trying to cover up another injury. Ianto had developed a bad habit of hiding either the injury itself or the severity of it, which had got him in trouble several times now, particularly when he had lost consciousness driving the SUV back after a particularly nasty alien run-down.

"Ianto, there's blood on your collar. You all right?" Owen walked up to Ianto's station, holding back his impulse to sneer or make a crude joke. Blood did that, even Jones's blood: it brought out the compassionate side of Owen's personality, the doctor-not the snarky git. There'd be time for that after he made sure Ianto was all right.

"I'm fine," Ianto murmured, hand moving toward a spot under his chin. He winced before he pulled it away, fingertips dotted with dried blood.

"Weevil?" Owen asked. Ianto shook his head, mouth set in a stoic line. Bollocks, Owen hated the man's macho streak sometimes.

"Come on down to the bay, I'll take a look."

"I'll be fine, Owen," Ianto replied, sounding exasperated as he moved toward the coffee machine.

"You'll ruin your suit," Owen replied, knowing how to get to the man. It stopped Ianto in his tracks, and with a sigh, he turned and followed Owen downstairs.

"Care to ell me what happened now?" asked Owen. He took out some cotton and antiseptic and began dotting at several deep knicks along Ianto's jaw line. Ianto was glancing up toward the ceiling and silent.

"Look, do I need to check for alien infection? Can you tell me that at least?"

"No," came a voice from above them, and if possible, Ianto's face set even harder. He looked pointedly away from where Jack was coming down the stairs, hands in his pockets and looking unusually contrite. "It was me."

"You?" asked Owen, glancing up in surprise. "What do you mean, you did this to him?" He stopped and glanced back and forth between the two men. "Oh, bloody hell, are you two playing at some sort of sick game again? Gwen told me about naked hide and seek."

"There's no such thing," Ianto muttered, still not looking at Jack, who huffed in return.

"Could be."

"We're not ten years old."

"It'd still be fun."

Owen held up his hands, his mind slightly reeling at the thought of them…never mind. "Look, these cuts aren't that bad, but they're real. What were you doing?"

"I lost a bet," said Jack.

"I'd say I ended up losing far more," Ianto threw back.

"It was your idea!" Jack exclaimed.

"I didn't think you'd actually be able to do it, but I didn't think you'd mangle me trying."

Owen stepped in again and began dotting Ianto's cuts with a styptic pencil-old fashioned, but it worked. Plus it was alien origin, so it worked even better than the ones his grandfather had used. Ianto hissed each time, as it did sting quite a bit, and the wounds not only stopped bleeding immediately, but the inflammation went down quickly as well and there would be no scaring.

"So what was this bet, boys? I hope it wasn't something kinky."

"Those went much more smoothly," Ianto replied, and Owen almost choked on his reply.

"Too much information, Jones. Spill-or is it really that bad?"

"Owen, you're a doctor. Haven't you figured it out by now?" Ianto gave him a skeptical look, and Owen stepped back, hands over his arms and feeling defensive.

"Well, I thought it might be from shaving, but you're not one to knick yourself like that shaving, and that's far too normal for Torchwood anyway, so…" He trailed off as Jack snickered behind him. "What?"

"I told you-I did it," Jack said, grinning now. Ianto glared at him. "Shaving."

"Seriously? You?"

"Ianto bet me I couldn't give him a clean shave in less than three minutes."

Owen turned back to Ianto. "You bet him he couldn't-wait, did this involve that stopwatch of yours?"

"Naturally," Ianto murmured, the corners of his lips quirking up just the slightest.

"And you timed how long it would take him to give you a clean shave…because?" Owen wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer, but he'd asked it and couldn't take it back now.

"Because he takes forever. I'm practically waiting at the door ready to leave before he's done half his face."

Owen shot Jack a 'Really?' look that was returned with a very unapologetic shrug.

"I like to be thorough," Jack replied.

"Thoroughly incompetent," Ianto tossed out.

"I'm not usually in such a rush," Jack said, now sounding defensive, "nor do I usually shave other blokes for fun."

"Some fun," Owen murmured, head down to avoid laughing.

"Not my best idea, I will admit," Ianto replied dryly.

"Nor mine," said Jack. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Mince my face?"

"Yes, that." He paused and glanced sideways at Owen. "Can I kiss it better for him?"

"No, you may not," Ianto replied, standing up before Owen could even give thought to his own smart remark. "Not until I show you the proper way of giving a man a clean shave."

Jack rubbed at his face. "I'm game, especially if there's lots of soap involved."

Owen groaned and moved away from them both. "I'm still here, and I do not need to hear this, even if I am dead."

"He started it," they both said at the same time. Ianto finally cracked a rare but broad grin, while Jack finally relaxed and smiled back with genuine fondness instead of his usual cocky charm. And in spite of Owen's presence and Ianto's warning, he stepped up to the Welshman and kissed him on the forehead.

"I am sorry," Jack murmured. "Show me tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow then."

Jack winked, clapped Owen on the back, and left the bay. Ianto watched him go, but his smile had changed.

"You're going to get him back, aren't you?" asked Owen, recognizing the signs of revenge being plotted. He knew Ianto's revenge could be swift and brutal.

"Of course," Ianto replied calmly.

"Decaf?" asked Owen. Jack hated decaffeinated coffee for some reason; as if he needed more energy, when he already had unlimited life.

"Maybe. Or I might brew him a special pot of that cheap sludge the Prime Minister sent for Christmas. It's vile." He inclined his head toward Owen. "And it's decaf, now that I recall."

"You're a cruel man, Ianto Jones," Owen laughed.

Ianto shrugged before he turned to leave. "We all are, sometimes, aren't we?"

He was halfway up the stairs when Owen realized something.

"Hey tea time-if Jack tried to give you a three minute shave this morning, does that mean he…"

"He what?" asked Ianto, innocent look belying the slight twinkle in his eye. He knew exactly what Owen was implying, but damn, he was going to make Owen say it.

"Did he, you know, spend the night then? At yours?"

Ianto merely inclined his head in answer, a small smile playing at his lips.

"So you two…"

"Not the first time, even," Ianto offered in reply. He was clearly enjoying Owen's discomfort, which just made Owen more irritated and uncomfortable that he'd missed it; obvious it was a bit more serious than most of them thought.

"Right," said Owen. "Of course. You and Jack." He paused as so many things ran through his head that he wasn't sure where to start sorting them. "So it's really not like that."

"That's what I said, didn't I?"

Owen shrugged and turned away. "Sorry, mate, I guess I just didn't really believe you."

"I won't even ask why," Ianto replied, and he continued up the stairs.

"Ianto," called Owen, unable to resist. The young man turned around. "It's just that, you know his…reputation, yeah?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "It's how I got my job."

"How you-shit." Owen stared at the prim and proper man in a suit with blood on the collar. He'd never really thought about it…well, no, he had, but as nothing had come of it for so long, he'd just put the thought aside, particularly after Ianto had been revealed as some sort of criminal super-spy hiding a robotic girlfriend in their basement.

Right.

"Well, then I reckon you can handle yourself."

"I reckon I can," Ianto replied in that dry manner he did so well.

"But Jonesy, just remember…he's a lot older than he looks, and he can't die. These sorts of things are different with him."

Ianto nodded slowly, his face more serious. "And?

Owen felt like he was chewing rocks to get the words to work. "Just don't get yourself hurt too bad, yeah?"

A funny look crossed Ianto's face as he turned to glance back toward Jack's office. "Probably a bit too late for that," he said softly.

Owen didn't know what to say. They both knew they weren't referring to the shaving cuts, and in spite of how Owen felt about the man personally (Ianto had shot him once, after all), he felt the smallest bit of sympathy for Ianto Jones at that moment. A relationship of any kind with Jack Harkness was not an easy thing.

"Yeah, well, at least give as good as you get," he finally replied, then immediately regretted it as Ianto's eyebrows almost flew off his head. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Of course not," Ianto murmured, trying to hold back a grin.

"Just watch your back," Owen said, and grimaced again as Ianto choked back a laugh this time. "Bollocks, this just keeps getting worse. Never mind, you know what I mean. I hope."

Ianto nodded. "I think I do." He continued up the stairs before turning around one last time. "Thank you, Owen."

Owen waved him off, uncomfortable with the rare moment of friendship that had just passed between them. "No problem. I'd ask for coffee in return, but well…" He shrugged. "Go make Jack some sludge for that botched facial."

"Will do." He nodded once more and left Owen with his thoughts.

It had only been last week that Ianto had said, 'It's not like that, me and Jack.' Owen had been bitter and angry over being relieved of his duties given his unusual medical state; now he just felt a sad sort of envy, and an even worse sort of loneliness, that two of his teammates had developed such an unexpected relationship. He also rather wanted to bleach his brain because he'd learned far too much about the captain and the tea boy than he ever wanted to know. That stopwatch was obviously their favorite toy, even when they were playing at being domestic, spending the night with one another and coming into work together.

Apparently there was more going on between the two than he'd thought, and deep down, Owen just hoped neither one of them got hurt in the end, clean shave or not.

Author's Notes:

Don't you love when prompts take strange turns? Thanks to Inusagi for the challenge!