Ianto entered the Hub bearing an armload of packages.

"Sorry that took so long," he called in the general direction of his co-workers, who were clustered around Tosh's workstation. "You wouldn't believe the crowds at Spice Central. I think everyone in Cardiff decided they wanted curry this aftern..."

Ianto stopped when he got a good look at his teammates. Tosh, Gwen and Owen were wearing nearly identical expressions of exasperation, which could only mean one thing.

"Oh no," Ianto said. "He's still at it, isn't he?"

"Yep," affirmed Owen grimly, grabbing the take-away bag and poking through it. "Hope they remembered the Nan bread this time."

"I made sure of it," Ianto said. "So where is..."

"Ianto!" Jack cried, bounding out of the conference room. "I thought I smelled something good. And curry too."

Ianto smiled weakly but there was dread in his eyes as he saw what Jack was holding.

The six-in-one screwdriver was perfectly ordinary in every way. It wasn't sonic. It contained no alien tech. It hadn't even been expensive. The handle was made of yellow plastic and contained a compartment where six different-sized tips were stored, hence the name.

Jack was fascinated with it.

He'd found the tool while rummaging through a drawer of odds and ends that Ianto kept in the little kitchen area. He'd been bored and had gone into the kitchen to flirt with Ianto. But Ianto hadn't been there, and the drawer had been slightly ajar. Jack had taken a peek inside, and it had been all downhill from there.

After taking the screwdriver apart and putting it back together a dozen times (for he'd wanted to try attaching each tip, twice), Jack then had needed something to do with it. He'd been wandering around looking for something that needed repair ever since.

"How cool is this? I bet I can fix anything with this. Anything!"

"That's nice, Jack," Tosh had said, not looking up from her screen.

"Keep that thing away from my coffee station," Ianto had warned when he saw Jack heading his way. "Nothing needs mending and even if it did, it requires a custom screwdriver from the manufacturer."

"You guys are no fun," Jack had complained. He had then gone to the railing overlooking the Autopsy Room and called down. "Owen? You must have something for me."

Owen had looked up from the remains of the giant alien rat he was dissecting in disbelief. "Who are you, all the King's horses and all the King's men? Because there's no way you're putting Humpty Dumpty here back together." He had picked up a string of of sausage-like intestines and held them up emphasize his point.

Jack had been undeterred. "I was thinking more about that wobbly leg on the autopsy table that you've been complaining about."

"That was fixed two weeks ago, Jack. And I'm kind of in the middle of something here?"

"Yes, it was fixed, and you're welcome, Owen, " Ianto had commented, passing by on his way to put a fresh supply of plastic gloves in the cabinet.

"Fine, be that way," Jack had said with a pout. "I'll go check with the girls again. Maybe they've found something."

"A new job, if they're lucky," Owen had muttered.

Ianto had closed his eyes and willed the Rift to open and bring forth an alien menace: something hostile with too many limbs and more teeth than brains would be a welcome distraction, indeed. Barring that, perhaps it could take the infernal screwdriver away instead. But the Rift stubbornly remained shut.

"Hey Gwen, does that chair of yours still squeak? I bet if I just adjust..."

"NO, Jack," Gwen had snapped.

And so it had gone all morning. There had been nothing in the Hub that needed fixing in the moment, and Jack was not the type to let go of an idea once he got it in his head. It was an unfortunate combination.

"I can't believe he's still going on about that thing," Ianto whispered after Jack had picked up his Styrofoam container of food and headed to his office, screwdriver tucked neatly into his pants pocket.

"I know," Tosh said, shaking her head. "This is worse than when he found his old Swiss Army Knife in that trunk in the basement."

"He has a Swiss Army Knife?" Gwen asked, helping herself to some noodles.

"Not anymore," Ianto replied darkly.

"Maybe he'll settle down once he's had something to eat," Tosh said.

Jack's voice floated down from above.

"Hey guys? How long to you think it would take me to take this bookshelf apart and put it back together? Bet I can do it in under ten minutes. Who's up for a wager?"

"Or not," Owen remarked.

"That does it!" Ianto said."If not for our sake, for the sake of the furniture-I'm putting an end to this." He pushed his plate away, removed the plastic bib he was using to protect his tie, and stood.

"Good idea," mumbled Owen through a mouthful of rice. "You be the one to take it away from him. He likes you."

"I'm going to do more than that," Ianto said, his formidable eyebrows drawing together in an alarming manner.

As he made for the stairs, the rest of the team exchanged glances, eyebrows raised. But no one dared to ask.

Ianto shut the door to Jack's office behind him with a "bang."

"Hello, Ianto. Done with lunch already?" Jack wadded up the remains of napkin and threw it in the general direction of the bin. It missed.

"I'm glad you're here. I'm going to make some modifications to the frame that giant mirror is in, but I think it will take two of us to get it down."

"No. You're not."

"Fine, if you don't want to help, just say so. I'll ask Owen. He's never liked that frame anyway. Said it was too Gothic or something."

Ianto strode forward until he was standing right by Jack's desk, looking down at him.

"No. You won't."

"What's gotten into you? Did they put too much spice in your Chicken Marsala again?"

Ianto glowered. "Push your chair back, Jack."

Jack blinked as he realized that there was six feet of Welshman looming over him, and that said Welshman did not look very happy.

"O...K..." Jack replied slowly, wondering if he'd forgotten something important, like dinner plans (again). That didn't seem right, but he must have done something because Ianto was not smiling, hadn't used a single "sir", and his eyes had gone that dark shade of blue that Jack associated with trouble. He eased his chair back, putting up his hands for good measure.

"Good." Ianto said, expression unchanging. He looked Jack up and down while Jack did his best to look charming and innocent, although 'innocent' probably wasn't going to be very convincing so he was mostly relying on 'charming'.

'Getting the once-over from a hot guy is not supposed to be this disturbing,' Jack thought with dismay.

"Can I... help you with something?" Jack essayed.

"Yes," Ianto said. Without warning, he took the last step that put him right by Jack's chair, then moved forward and straddled Jack's lap.

"Oof,"Jack gasped, as Ianto put his full weight on him.

Ianto wrapped one arm around Jack's back to steady himself and fixed him with a steely stare.

"Well, this is a nice surp..." Jack began, but was cut off when Ianto took Jack's chin in his hand and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

Jack had never passed up such an opportunity in his life, and he wasn't about to start now. He kissed Ianto back, and then ran the tip of his tongue over Ianto's bottom lip. Ianto parted his lips and Jack teased them with the tip of his tongue, then slid his tongue past them into Ianto's mouth, which tasted faintly of ginger and garlic. Nice.

Ianto pressed his fingers into Jack's chin, holding his face in place, and met Jack's tongue with his own. It started out like a caress but got progressively more demanding. Jack groaned and shifted under Ianto's hips.

Ianto pulled his head back and broke the kiss.

Jack licked his lips and grinned up at the younger man. Ianto still looked perturbed-as far as it was possible to tell with Ianto, who wore 'dour' as a habitual expression-but Jack caught a sparkle in his eyes and figured he was making progress. His hands had settled around Ianto's hips and he attempted to slide them under Ianto's jacket but was stopped with a head-shake and a firm, "Don't move."

Jack's eyes widened. This was an unexpected development. He would have nodded assent but figured that counted as movement so he tried to stay still instead. It wasn't easy. The faint smell of fine wool and Ianto's expensive cologne enveloped him, and underneath was the smell that was uniquely Ianto, and if not quite in the Fifty-First Century Pheromone league, it was more than enough to drive Jack to distraction. That, and the fact that Ianto's hand was sliding up his leg.

Ianto's hand was warm and steady, and by the time it reached mid-thigh, Jack felt rather heated himself. The hand traveled up a few more inches. Jack swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

"Jack," Ianto said softly, and Jack's eyes flew open. Ianto shook his head and removed his hand.

Jack froze. Had he screwed things up already? The whole "don't move" thing was harder than it sounded. That was why he usually preferred to be in charge. But then Ianto's hand came back and inserted itself into his pocket, and Jack sighed in relief.

But then Ianto plucked out the screwdriver and held it up in front of his face.

Jack blinked.

"You realize you've been a complete tool ever since you found this, right?" Ianto's tone was conversational.

Jack opened his mouth to reply but Ianto shh'd him by placing a finger over his lips.

"Pun intended," Ianto added.

Wha... there was a pun? Who could think of wordplay at a time like this?

Ianto, that's who. Jack's own mind had gone to a less lofty place, but Ianto was saying something else and it seemed important that he listen. Jack shoved some lascivious visuals out of his head and tried to focus; a task Ianto made more difficult by tracing the outline of Jack's lips with his finger as he spoke.

"It's a pity you weren't on this Do-It-Yourself kick when the lift broke down last month," Ianto lamented. "There's a week of my life I'll never get back again. Not to mention that Owen is never, ever going let me forget how I got stuck on it for two hours and had be rescued by Gwen. I'm seriously considering Retcon.

"Mmm," Jack murmured, hoping he sounded sympathetic. It was the best he could do without moving his lips.

"What's your fascination with this, anyway? Is it the long metal shaft?" Ianto rested the screwdriver against Jack's cheek. It felt cold against his blazing skin, and a shiver snaked down his spine.

"Or maybe it's the interchangeable magnetic tip?" Ianto touched Jack's cheek with it; the press of steel just firm enough to remind Jack that in other circumstances, the screwdriver could be a dangerous weapon. In these circumstances, it just made him more inflamed.

Ianto brushed the tip of the screwdriver down Jack's cheek, across his jaw, and then back up again.

'Tease,' Jack thought, an unaccustomed feeling of desperation rising within him. It seemed urgent that he speak, or move, or best of all, perform any lewd act on Ianto's person the young man would allow-but Ianto continued on with his musings, heedless of Jack's need.

"Or is it the firm, plastic base?" Ianto reversed the tool and pressed said base against Jack's lips. Their eyes locked, and Ianto gave a short, sharp nod. Obediently, Jack opened his mouth.

Ianto pressed the screwdriver between his lips and Jack moaned. This was a side of Ianto he hadn't seen before now he was wondering why the hell not? In a matter of moments, Ianto had unraveled Jack Harkness so thoroughly that he would have done anything he wanted. So when Ianto pushed the screwdriver in further, Jack didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. He fixed Ianto's gaze with his own and ran his tongue suggestively around the yellow base, then opened his mouth wider to take in more.

Ianto's breath hitched and it was clear from the way that he was pressing the lower part of his anatomy against Jack's stomach that Jack wasn't the only one becoming undone. He fed Jack about three inches of the screwdriver and then left it there, gazing into Jack's eyes, his own lips parted and his breathing erratic.

It was one of the most erotic moments they'd ever shared and they still had their clothes on.

Ianto removed the screwdriver as deliberately as he had inserted it. "I figured as much," he concluded.

The small, sharp pang of loss that Jack experienced when Ianto took back the screwdriver was nothing compared to what he felt when Ianto lifted himself off Jack's lap and took a step back. He hoped the sound he uttered didn't sound like a whimper to Ianto. It certainly did to him.

Ianto held up the screwdriver. "You know, Jack, the others think I should take this away from you. But I'm not going to do that."

'Well, that's nice?' Jack thought wildly.

"Since you seem so fond of it, I'm going to leave it here, with you." He set the implement on the edge of Jack's desk." But you're not to touch it until I tell you that you can."

Ianto leaned in, his breath warm against Jack's skin.

"I'll know if you do. I'll know. And then it will be the last 'tool' you get your mouth around for a very long time. Is that understood? You may move now."

Understood? Jack understood that he'd understood nothing. Nothing about Ianto Jones, clearly, even though they'd been sleeping together for months. Nothing about the erotic potential of screwdrivers, which he suspected that he would never be able to look at again without getting aroused. Nothing about how he was just supposed to let Ianto walk out of his office leaving Jack all hot and bothered, which clearly he was about to do.

Jack nodded anyway.

Ianto gave him a brisk, impersonal nod back, turned on his heel, and proceeded out the door without looking back.

The door closed softly and Jack realized another thing that he hadn't truly understood until now-the true meaning of the word "frustration." He considered banging his head on his desk. Instead he sat and stared at the screwdriver a good, long time.

Outside the door, Ianto paused and took a deep breath. He could hardly believe that he'd pulled that off, and now that he had, he needed a moment to compose himself before going back downstairs. Maintaining all that control had cost him, and his body was humming with pent-up energy. He'd better find some physical tasks to occupy himself this afternoon.

Ianto removed his handkerchief from his jacket pocket with a trembling hand. He wiped his brow and dabbed his lips, appreciating the feel of the cool cotton against his skin, and then refolded the handkerchief into a perfect pocket square and returned it to its place. He shot his sleeves and adjusted his cuffs, making sure that the head of the Welsh dragon on each cufflink was at a perfect 90-degree angle to the middle of the back of his hand.

By the time he smoothed his suit jacket down across his hips, his heart rate was approaching something normal.

'As ready as I'll ever be,' he thought, and descended the stairs, hoping that the smile that he couldn't quite wipe off his face was the only clue to the emotions roiling inside him.

Tosh, Owen and Gwen were exactly where he'd left them, and they all turned as one to look at him when he arrived.

"Problem solved," Ianto said, resuming his place at the table and picking up his mug.

"So, where is it," Owen inquired. Should I fire up the incinerator?"

"I told you that I wasn't going to take it, did I not? He's still got it. But he won't be bothering us with it anymore."

"What did you do? Shove it up his arse?"

"Owen!" Tosh admonished.

Ianto was unperturbed. "Thought about it. But, no."

"Just as well," Owen said. "He'd probably enjoy it too much."

"So what DID you do?" Gwen asked

"Told him not to touch it."

Gwen snorted. "And you expect that to work?"

"I do."

"Ianto, Jack never listens." Gwen tried again.

"He will. Let's just say I put it in terms he could understand." He could feel their gazes on him, and decided that he was enjoying this immensely.

Tosh spoke up. "Best leave it, guys. Ianto knows what he's doing."

"Thank you, Tosh.' Ianto said, and reached for more rice with an inscrutable smile.

Owen shrugged. "Well, I don't care what you did, as long as it works." He pushed his chair back and slouched off.

Gwen looked like she wanted to ask more questions, but then thought better of it. She left without another word. Tosh smiled at Ianto and followed her.

They left the messy table for Ianto to clear up. Naturally.

As he collected the takeaway containers and cups, he reflected. Jack had a conference call with U.N.I.T. higher-ups in two hours. Perhaps he would relent and let Jack fiddle with his new toy then. After all, Jack tended to do much better on such calls when he had something to do with his hands. Ianto had disposed of enough dead paperclips, twisted and bent beyond all recognition, to reach to London and back.

Or maybe he wouldn't.

Captain Jack Harkness was a big boy, after all. He could wait a little longer.