Peace, quiet – they were two words you didn't naturally associate with Torchwood.

Well, perhaps Torchwood One in London back in the day had been quiet…before the Battle of Canary Wharf. Ianto Jones had found the work stimulating but it was far from exciting. He worked regular hours and did regular things out of work with his girlfriend Lisa. It was, to all intents and purposes, a quiet life.

Torchwood Cardiff was the exact opposite. Ianto packed a gun, harum-scarum around south Wales acquiring wounds and bruises and the odd bit of concussion along the way. It was roller coaster stuff and so for that matter was Jack. No quiet evenings in the local with a pint and packet of crisps, half watching the footie on TV rather than listening to Lisa talking about her friend's wedding (was that a hint?). No, he was with a man now for goodness sake; a man with an over the top personality and ego, a quick retort, a lascivious wink and a nice line in cheating at a game of naked hide and seek. Torchwood was all about action and excitement, running around with weapons, chasing weevils, adrenalin, almost paralysing fear and grabbed moments of passion in odd places.

Or was it?

If Ianto honestly thought about it there was peace and quiet sometimes. There were moments of downtime when nothing much was happening. In moments like those everyone got on with their own work; Tosh would be swotting up on some new gizmo or scientific research paper, Owen had a chance to restock the medical supplies, Jack would get on with the hated paperwork and Gwen? – Well, Ianto wasn't sure but suspected she sat playing online bingo under the pretext of work. Ianto himself tidied up, made coffee and attended to Jack's overgrowing paperwork in his 'out' tray. Ianto would bring in pizza and make coffee and there would be quiet munching, appreciating food without the threat of indigestion. It gave them a chance to catch up and get mundane things in their lives done – shopping, the laundry, doing the put it off I until I have to do it things. During a particularly quiet time Ianto even took off his suit jacket and waistcoat, rolled up his sleeves and proceeded to valet clean the SUV. Once he'd started it didn't seem such a chore and he sang along to music while he worked…which was why he didn't hear Jack approach. Being in the rather dangerous position of being head down in a footwell and arse upwards, he was unaware of the impending hard slap to his aforementioned arse until it hit home and he ended up in an even more ungainly position. A position his boss had taken full advantage of, Ianto remembered. That had actually been the sum total of excitement that day.

There were peaceful evenings he had to admit. There were quiet calls of 'night!' from Gwen, Tosh and Owen as they headed home early and the Hub was left almost eerily quiet. Ianto would sometimes go 'up top' and walk around Mermaid Quay to stretch his legs and get some fresh air. No calls, no interruptions and when he got back Jack would be on the sofa almost purring contentedly at potential take-way food options. There was delicious pleasure in having a meal in silence without the Rift going dingalingaling. Ianto was aware that things would trouble Jack and he kept them to himself rather than worry the team but Ianto felt he eased the burden in some way by the way Jack would sigh occasionally and pat his hand as if he appreciated him being there, just his presence.

For all the times when it was busy overnight, it always seemed to involve a rather long hike back to the SUV, usually in the rain. Owen would mutter about missing his bed, Tosh yawning, Gwen staring out of the window on the drive back to base with everyone too tired for conversation. Once they were back and everything was sorted this was followed by the delirious pleasure of head hitting the pillow and the peace of sleep.

Sometimes Ianto would wake a while later, almost adopting Jack's insomniac habits, and lie relishing the silence. In those moments he thought about all sorts of things and strangely not about all that had happened. Ianto thought about the dry cleaning, how long he really could put off going to visit his sister and about how his life might have been so different if he had never heard of Captain Jack Harkness. Jack – who meant excitement, who was unpredictable, who had a terrible habit of flirting outrageously with anything that drew breath, who had lived lives Ianto could only dream of, who was frequently bloody annoying, who was gorgeous and his…after a fashion.

The time Ianto liked best was the middle of the night moments when they would lie together and 'talk shop' because they could share Torchwood with each other. In those moments thoughts became fears, speculation about what would happen, what had happened. It was sharing and although Ianto wasn't quite sure what his relationship was with Jack, he felt more than it being boss and employee, shag-buddies or (dare he say it) lovers – no it felt more like companions. An old fashioned word of course but it felt nice, it wasn't complicated. Companions, he thought, meant understanding about the work they did, finishing each other's sentences, having their own jokes and innuendo, reading each other that with just a half smile or a raised eyebrow that the other needed consolation, sex, sleep, coffee or all the above.

The longed for moment - a veil of tiredness with sleep coming down like a curtain. Ianto would feel himself melt into the bed, Jack spooned against his back.

"Night Yan"

"Night, Jack"

Peace. Quiet. It did happen at Torchwood…