"If you're interested, I've still got that stopwatch."

"So?"

"Well . . . think about it. Lots of things you can do with a stopwatch."

"Oh, yeah . . . I can think of a few."

"There's quite a list."

"I'll send the others home early. I'll see you in my office in – ten."

"That's ten minutes, and counting."

Ianto gazed after his Captain for a moment, anticipation coursing through him. Slipping the now-ticking stopwatch back into his vest pocket, he dutifully completed the death certificate. Although it was a solemn task, Ianto could not prevent his mind from wandering. He closed his eyes in respect as he pushed the body back into the wall, straightened his tie with trembling fingers, and checked the stopwatch again – just under seven minutes to go. Retracing his steps into the main complex of the Hub, he found the others on their way out – Gwen gave him a knowing smile, and he cleared his throat nervously. Ianto still wasn't used to being with Jack – it felt so wrong, sometimes, when he thought back to Lisa, and all that they'd shared. It had taken him a long time to forgive Jack, to accept that Lisa had truly been gone from the moment the cybermind had taken her over, and even now, the kisses he shared with Jack often tasted of tears. Still, Jack was something different – wild and intoxicating and strong, and Ianto never felt more truly alive then in his embrace.

Four minutes to go. Ianto needed to get ready. There were a couple things he was going to need.

Precisely three and a half minutes later, Ianto stood at the door to Jack's office, his breathing unusually ragged. A sticker for punctuality, he waited for the stopwatch to tick down the last few seconds, then knocked firmly, twice.

"Get in here, Ianto," Jack's voice came muffled through the door. Ianto stepped inside with beating heart, and froze. Jack was sitting in his black swivel chair across the room, one arm casually behind his head. His red shirt, apparently flung off, was draped over the only light fixture, giving the room a rosy glow.

God, he was gorgeous.

Still in shock, Ianto shook some altogether-too-pleasant thoughts from his mind, and nervously stepped forwards to set his items down on the desk by the door.

"I think we might need some more light, Jack," he murmured. The chair creaked as Jack stood up and walked across the floor towards him with agonizing slowness. His white teeth shone in the gloom, in an easy, anticipatory smile.

"You think?"

"Um, yes. So we can see better." Perspiration broke out on Ianto's forehead as Jack strode closer. He did his best to concentrate on his Captain's face. Jack was grinning.

"I think we've got enough light for this evening's activity. I don't know how much experience you have, but trust me – I can see well enough to do what needs to be done."

Ianto swallowed.

"I'm fairly good, actually . . . "

Jack stopped, inches away. The smile was gone, replaced by something more intense.

"We'll see about that."

A moment later, Ianto was backed up against the wall, and Jack was kissing him. The Captain pinned both of his arms above his head with just one of his own, while the other traced the side of Ianto's body, up and down. Ianto was completely taken aback, his thoughts a whirl of pleasure, but when Jack broke away for air some minutes later, he forced himself to twist his head aside.

"I thought - !" he gasped- "I mean – what are you doing?"

Jack frowned, his hand pausing in Ianto's hip.

"It was your idea."

"What do you mean?" He stared at Jack in shock and dawning realization.

"I wanted to play speed scrabble!" He nodded to the game board on the table. Jack stepped back, releasing him in amazement, and Ianto winced. Would he be offended? Angry?

A few seconds later, Jack threw his head back and burst out laughing uproariously, as Ianto let his arms fall back to his sides. He didn't feel like laughing – was Jack mocking him? It was true, he had almost no sort of experience in this sort of thing – he must seem like such an idiot! He had ruined everything. And yet, there was a part at the back of his mind, small and yet insistent, that was disappointed; that wished he hadn't said anything; that blindly craved Jack's body pressing alongside him again, and the brief moments of passionate helplessness as Jack's hands and mouth had electrified him.

Jack's laughter died away gradually, but the smile of pure enjoyment lingered. He twined his fingers through Ianto's, picked up the now-lukewarm mug of coffee, and led the other man to the low couch against one wall.

"Ianto Jones," he whispered at last, as the two men settled onto the sofa, and Ianto shivered at the way Jack traced each syllable of his name. "I have never met anyone else quite like you."

Ianto attempted to regain his composure.

"Nor you, sir. I'm afraid I've disappointed you."

"Honestly, can we drop the "sir" now? It gets on my nerves."

Ianto looked down at his knees. "I didn't realize – I mean – what you were thinking of." Jack ran his fingers through Ianto's dark, precisely combed hair.

"Oh, I think I can get you around to my way of thinking soon enough."

Ianto looked up questioningly, unsure of what Jack was proposing.

"I think what we need in this situation is a good old-fashioned compromise. If that suits you, of course," said Jack, smiling that intriguing grin of his that made Ianto both thrilled and uncomfortable.

"What did you have in mind, sir?" Ianto tried to speak as calmly as he could, but it hadn't worked.

"We can play speed scrabble, just like you wanted."

"Are you sure? I mean, if that's what you want, but is it?" Ianto cleared his throat in embarrassment.

"You didn't let me finish, Jones Ianto Jones." Ianto suddenly got very worried, pondering what Jack was thinking of. What was going to happen now? "We'll play, and after every turn, we'll add up the points, and if you lose – "

"If I lose…. What happens?"

"You'll lose that gorgeous vest of yours." Jack moved towards the table where the scrabble board was sitting. He grabbed a near-by chair and, in one fluid motion, swung his leg over one side of it and sat down, tossing the bag of tiles to Ianto. Ianto dealt out the tiles, his hands nearly shaking as he did so from nerves. He felt a swirl of emotions; fear and discomfort and excitement and exhilaration mingling in his chest.

"Shall you go first, sir, or shall I?"

"Go ahead, Ianto." Jack smiled again. Ianto tried to contemplate the letters on the tiles in front of him but couldn't focus; his mind and his emotions a blur. He suddenly realized that the stopwatch – what had brought him here in the first place – was ticking away on the table. He was almost out of time. He slapped some tiles down on the board, not even sure what they were.

"20 points, Jones Ianto Jones. Very good." Jack restarted the stopwatch, looked down at his tiles, and smirked. He laid down his tiles with a painstaking slowness. Ianto noticed the glint in his eyes and slowly looked down at the board, blushing when he saw the word.

"77 points. You know the rules, Ianto."

Ianto glanced down at the board, almost in disbelief. He could feel his stomach turning, his cheeks turning a bright scarlet. He was so scared, and didn't move for a few seconds. Jack leaned forwards, a smile playing about the corners of his mouth, and whispered, "Do you need any help with that?"

Ianto's cheeks burned red hot, and he could barely look Jack in the eye.

"I've changed my mind," said Jack. "That wasn't a question." He leaned over the table and grasped the vest's top button in his fingers, slowly working it out of the other side of the fabric. Ianto instinctively moved to pull away, but stopped himself as Jack moved down to the next button. Eventually, the vest was pulled loose, revealing Ianto's sleek lilac button down shirt. He wasn't sure whether he was sorry or not about not having worn the suit jacket today.

"Your turn," Jack said, sinking back into his seat with a smug look on his face, admiring the cute embarrassment on Ianto's. Ianto reached for the bag and restocked his tiles; wondering what word to put down next. He placed the tiles on the board with 10 seconds to spare, nervous about what Jack was about to do.

Jack saw the word and just laughed. "18 points, Ianto. Nice job." He then nonchalantly laid down another set of tiles without a moment's hesitation, and looked back at Ianto.

Ianto glanced at the board and realized his familiar fate. "Triple word score," he muttered, as Jack beamed at him.

Jack looked Ianto over a few times, and then decided. "The shirt." Jack contemplated the shirt, just barely wrinkled from when he had kissed Ianto earlier. He saw the cufflinks, the neatly pressed collar, the trim buttons down the middle, and looked back at Ianto's face. "Well?"

Ianto reached for the bottom of his shirt. He felt himself almost beginning to enjoy this – the excitement of who would win or lose, the thrill of the consequences. He began to unbutton the shirt, but felt his fingers trembling as he did, and eventually resigned to pulling it off over his head. Jack felt his breath catch momentarily in his throat as Ianto eased his shirt over his head. He couldn't resist his eyes flicking up and down the other man's body, all the more fascinating for the reluctance with which it was revealed. He admired spoils of his victory, appreciating the gleam of Ianto's bare chest in the dimmed red light. He stared for a long time, nearly too long, and was shocked when Ianto remarked, "It's my turn, then?"

Jack nodded, and Ianto suddenly felt the urge to get revenge. He had been taken over by a deep carnal urge, and couldn't bear to not win this round. He drew new tiles, trying not to show this desire in his body language. He kept a nervous face on the outside, but his heart swelled with happiness as he saw the letters before him.
Jack looked rather taken aback with the word that Ianto had just played.

"Impressive," he blurted out. "50 points." He placed his own tiles onto the table, and suddenly Ianto saw that he had accomplished his goal – he had won.
Jack leaned back in his chair. "13 points. Take your pick."

Jack's eyes glinted in that naughty way that Ianto had always tried to ignore. But now Ianto was too far in to ignore Jack's advances. He carefully surveyed his options, and made his decision.

"Pants."

"Oh, my, Ianto Jones, I think you're beginning to enjoy this!" Jack got up from his chair and began to undo his belt buckle. Ianto tried to avert his eyes from the spectacle before him, but couldn't, and felt a irresistible smile growing on his face.
Jack noticed Ianto watching him and broke into an enormous grin, laughing. He stepped forward and sat back down, leaving his pants in a crumpled heap on the floor. Ianto quickly put down his next word.

"Ah, 25. Respectable." Jack then looked at his tiles, and contemplated them for a while, seemingly unable to make up him mind.

"Time," said Ianto, looking impatiently at Jack. Jack smiled at him, and placed his word on the table.

"That's 12 points," said Ianto, looking up again at Jack. "I think I win, sir."

Jack looked into Ianto's eyes.

"What else are you thinking, Jones Ianto Jones?"
Ianto hesitated, nervous about what he was about to say.

"I'm thinking that you lost on purpose, sir. You cheated."

"You're going to have to learn something about me, Ianto." Jack leaned in close, his face next to Ianto's, both their breaths audible to the other. "I always cheat."

Jack suddenly leaned forwards and grabbed Ianto, upsetting the Scrabble board on the couch between them and pulling him into a deep embrace, kissing his mouth and neck with a sudden, desperate passion. Ianto's mind was overcome with an adrenaline rush of warm pleasure and excitement as he gladly kissed Jack back. He could barely remember how this night had begun, how he had gotten to this point, but he didn't care. He was in the moment.

Ianto, always the calm one, always the rational one, found himself washed away by a tide of passion, stronger than he'd imagined possible. He wanted Jack, and nothing else mattered except their mouths moving together, and the heat of Jack's skin on his own. Before he realized what he was doing, Ianto had shifted forwards, pushing Jack down onto the couch beneath him. His hands caressed Jack's hair and face in a frenzy, and he kissed him as though he were dying of thirst. Jack did not resist; on the contrary, Ianto's enthusiasm invigorated him, and he let his hands slide down the younger man's body to his belt. Inexplicably, Jack was fairly proficient at this sort of thing, and within moments Ianto, too, was stripped down to his navy-blue boxers.

Ianto was hardly aware of what Jack was doing, until it was brought to attention in a sudden sort of way. He broke away from Jack for a moment with a gasp, and Jack quickly opened his eyes. He knew he had to be careful, and not push Ianto beyond his limits – the other man had little experience, and going too far tonight would only frighten him. Selfish as it was, Jack couldn't bear the thought of losing him, of ruining this tender chance.

Ianto's grey eyes opened, but they were far away, as if he was gazing at the stars over his Captain's shoulder. Jack bit his lip, hating what he was about to say.

"Ianto," he murmured, and the man's eyes gradually focused on him, with a raw passion that made even Jack shiver. This was going to be harder than he'd realized.

"Ianto," he tried again, his voice husky with desire. "We can stop, if you want – you don't have to do this for me – not now" – he swallowed – "or not ever, if you don't want to."

What was he saying? He wanted this man more than he could ever remember wanting somebody before – and that was saying quite a bit. Physical passion had always been how he expressed and defined himself, and here he was, throwing it away when he had his gorgeous employee, Ianto Jones, quite literally on top of him. Ianto, however, was shaking his head.

"Don't stop, sir," he murmured, as he caught his breath, dipping his dark head to just barely brush his lips against Jack's. The older man shivered at the soft touch – so delicate than Ianto might have been painting every inch of Jack's lips with each part of his own – not to mention the continued deference.

"Ianto, are you sure?" Jack murmured into his ear. He could feel the anticipation mounting now, as Ianto nodded slowly.

"Alright, then, Ianto Jones," Jack muttered, a hint of guttural challenge in his voice. "Hold on tight."

Several hours later, Jack awoke drenched in icy sweat, blinking the blinding light of the nightmare from his moist eyes. It was the same nightmare every night; always the same – the nightmare that would never leave him. Gradually his eyes registered the darkness in the room; the familiar low noises of the Hub all around. It took several minutes for his breathing to return to normal as he lay staring at the ceiling, unbidden tears staining his cheeks. Something moved against him – an arm flung over his chest and curled gently around him; a second, slower breath at his side. Jack's memories returned with a rush, blocking out the dream, and it was with the ghost of a smile that he turned his head, and gazed at the face of Ianto Jones, peaceful in sleep. The knot of pent-up grief inside him seemed to slip, just for a moment, as he regarded his gentle lover. Jack leaned forwards to brush the other man's forehead with his lips, then lay back, more content than he had been in a long time.

Six-Thirty precisely. Ianto had slept in. And no wonder, too, when he considered how late he'd been up last – well, best not to think about that. If he did, his tackling Jack might cause the Captain to wake up a bit earlier than he would have preferred.

Ianto gently lifted his arm off of Jack's chest, freezing when the older man stirred slightly in his sleep. A soft smile played about Jack's lips, but his eyes remained closed. Ever so carefully, Ianto eased himself off the couch, and pulled on his clothes, which he had to retrieve them from various points around the room. His shirt was un-ironed, but there was little he could do about that – Tosh could be here any minute; she took special pride in arriving early to work each day. Ianto shook out his normally-pressed suit as best he could, smoothed down his vest, and gave up on his hair. Hopefully, no questions would be asked. With a certain reverence, he gathered up Jack's clothes as well, including his shirt, which seemed to be buttoned over the lampshade, and folded them neatly over the back of a chair. He smoothed the sheets. He wandered in circles, unwilling to admit to himself that all he wanted to do right now was slip back under the covers and bury himself in Jack's broad shoulders.

Trying to distract himself, Ianto slipped out of Jack's office – it seemed like a lifetime ago that he had walked through that same door, uncertain and carrying a Scrabble box – and strode to the central complex of the Hub. By the time he returned, Jack was sitting up with a yawn, and gratefully accepted the large ceramic mug of fresh-brewed black coffee. The Captain sipped appreciatively, and finally was the first to break the silence.

"Thanks, Ianto. Incredible, as usual – you're a lifesaver." Ianto swallowed a smile at the familiar compliment.

"I do my best, sir."

Jack looked up, suddenly more serious.

"And I mean that. I - I don't know what I would do without you, Ianto Jones. What with, well, the coffee, obviously, and, um, your sense of humor, and the way you get us everywhere on time . . .." He trailed off, covering up his embarrassment – well, that was a first – with a gulp of hot liquid. Ianto was gazing at him mildly.

"So what you're trying to say, sir, is – "

"I love you, Ianto Jones." He had expected the blush, and added, "also, you know me far too well already. That's a bit scary."

The whir of the Hub entrance echoed through the open door, and Ianto started up.

"I – I should go, sir."

Jack grinned at him slyly.

"Don't look so disappointed, Jones. There's always tonight. We can play Yahtzee."