This is a piece of fanfiction based on Torchwood. The pairing in this story is Ianto/Owen. I purposefully made it hard to tell when this story take place because I'm not sure yet when I want it to have taken place.

Chapter Notes: I based part of what Ianto does on his time off one the part of the episode Fragments which is one of the only times we see him out of a suit.

"To me, you're strange and you're beautiful/You'd be so perfect with me. . . " - Aqualung

I.

You could say a lot of things about Dr. Owen Harper's life, but one thing you could never say was that it was normal. Strange, crazy, unbelievable, and more than a little fucked up, but never normal. He could remember a time when it had been. When the strangest thing he could foresee would have been him not starting his own practice. That was before things had gotten very, very strange. Back then he had a good job, a nice flat, a beautiful girlfriend. Now all that was left was the flat, not even in the right city, and strangeness had pretty much become his way of life. He thought nothing could surprise him. Alien autopsies, chasing weevils through sewers, getting totally covered in alien goop, and toting around heavy weaponry, that was his life now, and nothing could faze him. Right up until the night when he learned despite everything he'd seen, he'd yet to encounter true strangeness.

He was drunk, as usual, and she was beautiful, or that might have just been the beer talking. Either way when she said he could come to this concert he said yes. Punk rock wasn't really his thing, but he sensed the possibility of getting shagged. It was dark in the club, unbelievably loud and crowded. People in lots of black leather, smashed up close to each other, which was something Owen normally wouldn't have had a problem with. He did have a problem though with being separated from the lovely lady in question, which happened almost immediately upon them entering the building. As he fought his way through the crowd Owen began to wonder what exactly he was doing there and why he hadn't done the sensible thing and gone home to bed. After all he had work in the morning. The crowd seemed to be pulsing along with the ear shattering base line, which made the mass of bodies move in all the wrong ways for Owen to get through. On top of that Owen was not a particularly big man, short, slight, and by the second time someone shoved him he'd also developed a very bad mood. Someone shoved him again, and this time he wasn't quick enough to recover. As he went down he wondered vaguely how he was going to explain the bruises to Tosh in the morning.

Someone grabbed him before he actually hit the floor, and hoisted him up. The crowd moved again crushing him against his savior who appeared to be male with an apparently very nice feeling chest. Owen looked up and his mind completely ceased functioning. Ianto Jones stood staring back at him looking every bit as shocked as Owen felt. Owen's mind made a feeble attempt to grasp what was happening. That this was Ianto Jones. Ianto who picked up after them, Ianto who compulsively organized anything that wasn't nailed down, who brewed coffee that not only tasted like God's gift to human kind but also could melt holes in the sidewalk. Ianto Jones, who made lists in his sleep, and seemed to live for keeping things tidy and making Jack happy. That Ianto, who was now standing the middle of a punk rock concert dressed in tight black jeans, beat-up black t-shirt with some kind of band logo, black studded leather belt and matching cuffs, and black leather jacket, still holding Owen pressed against his chest. Owen's brain simply refused to grasp it and shut down again. Ianto's face had totally drained of color, and although Owen couldn't hear a damned thing over the music he saw Ianto mouth his name.

The next moment Ianto had let go of Owen, shoving him almost violently way. Owen staggered but didn't fall and Ianto's hand clamped around his wrist, so tightly he was pretty sure it would leave bruises. Ianto began hauling him through the crowd, and Owen dazedly wondered when Ianto had gotten so strong. Then they where outside. The cool air and deafening silence hitting him as they stepped of the club.

"What the hell where you doing?"

Ianto's voice was quiet, calm as ever, but Owen didn't miss the suppressed anger. Not that Owen minded, actually he found it deeply soothing. Ianto being annoyed with him was so very normal.

"There was this girl . . ."

Owen belatedly realized he'd left her on her own, then shrugged it off. This was far more interesting then adding another conquest to his list.

"Didn't expect to run into you though."

Ianto pinched the bridge of his nose and sigh. The small gesture was so much like the Ianto Owen knew that it made him feel suddenly overwhelmingly happy. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground.

"Owen, go home."

Ianto was using his practical voice, the one that he used while explaining to Jack why Jack was no long allowed to use the stable gun. Owen's eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

"Because you're drunk, and if you go back in there someone's going to end up dead, possibly you, possibly someone else, and I really don't want to bail you sorry arse out of jail on my night off."

Ianto was on his celphone, as he spoke, calling a cab. When it pulled up he ushered Owen into it and than to Owen's confusion got in himself. The streetlight wasn't great but it was better then inside the club. Owen found himself staring at some sort of silver chain Ianto was wearing around his neck as Ianto gave clipped instructions the to cabby. They spent the whole trip in silence; Ianto didn't even look at Owen until they pulled up outside of Owen's flat. Owen wondered briefly how Ianto had known where his flat was, and then Ianto was hauling him out of the back and inside. Outside of his flat, Ianto unceremoniously let go of Owen's arm and turned heading back the way they had come.

"Ianto"

Ianto stopped and termed around facing Owen, and Owen once more tried to take it all in; the boots, the jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket.

"Thanks."

Ianto shrugged ever so slightly

"No problem. Just don't make a habit of it."

And then he was gone.