Title: Underneath

Rating: T

Characters/Pairing: Owen, Ianto

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Owen catches Ianto hiding something beneath his suits. For the hc_bingo prompt bruises.

Warnings: none

Length: 1,500

Disclaimer: I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

Ianto walked down the stairs toward the med bay. He was sore and tired and just wanted to be done. He tried to keep his posture straight, but the bruises around his midsection protested loudly at the attempt; even breathing too deeply made it feel like his chest was wrapped in fire.

Owen watched him walk down the steps. There seemed to be something off about Ianto, but he didn't know what it was. He set his papers down and leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk and folding his arms over his chest.

Stopping right in front of Owen, Ianto lowered the tray he was carrying and removed the mug of coffee, setting it on the desk by Owen's feet.

Ianto was already counting the steps that he would need to take before he could sit back down, how many hours until he could be home in bed. It was all far too distant in the future.

Tray now empty, Ianto turned and tucked it beneath his arm.

But something caught the doctor's eye.

"Wait," Owen said, grabbing Ianto's forearm. Using his other hand, he slid the cuff of Ianto's shirt up an inch, exposing a dark reddish purple blotch. "What's this about?"

Ianto looked down at wrist and then to his Owen's face, raising a brow. "I believe it's referred to as a sub dermal hematoma, and if you'll excuse me"—he shook his arm free and straightened his sleeve—"I've got reports to file."

Ianto turned to leave but Owen stopped him, jumping up and stepping into his path. "You can file them later."

"Owen, really, blocking me from the stairs is immature even for you."

"Nothing's too immature for me," Owen said, putting one hand on each rail, bracing himself for Ianto should he choose to charge forward. "Now, where are those bruises from, huh?"

Ianto tried to take a deep breath and steady his nerves, but the burning pain it caused made him wince. Owen didn't miss it.

"You stupid sod," Owen said. "How hurt are you?"

"I'm fine."

Owen rolled his eyes. "If you are, then you won't mind me taking a look. Now why don't you walk over to the nice exam table and take a seat."

Ianto sighed and turned, walking towards the table. He could practically feel Owen smirking behind him. Little did Owen know that Ianto had no plans of sitting; instead, he walked past the table and up the opposite flight of stairs.

Owen waited until it was nearly the end of the day before he made his move. He sneaked around Ianto as he was working at the coffee counter and nudged him at just the right moment to spill the cream over his suit.

"Shit," Owen said in mock surprise. "Sorry about that."

"What the hell, Owen!"

"Oh, like I meant to do it," Owen sneered.

Ianto narrowed his eyes at him, but then grabbed a nearby rag and began to clean up the mess that was on the counter and along his front.

Owen smirked, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, I suppose you'll need a shower now."

"I suppose, no thanks to you."

Owen walked back to the med bay with a shit eating grin on his face. He had Ianto just where he wanted him.

Owen stalked the hall outside the showers until he heard the water shut off. Then he stepped through the door and tiptoed into the locker room.

Ianto was standing by the bench, towel wrapped around his waist, his back to Owen.

Owen paused, sucking in a breath. He was shocked by the sheer number of bruises that covered the Welshman's torso. They were everywhere, some darker and fresher than others. He couldn't wrap his head around the sight.

Ianto must have felt his presence as he looked over his shoulder. "What do you want, Owen?"

"What do I want? What the fuck, Ianto!" Owen snapped. "You look like you've been run over by a truck."

Ianto shrugged. "It's nothing. I'm fine. You can go."

"I don't bloody think so."

Ianto dropped his shoulders and walked over to the clothes he had hung out. Ignoring Owen, Ianto began to get dressed. Owen caught glimpses of his front as he did and was taken aback by the deep purple bruise that wrapped around his torso.

"Ianto …"

Ianto shook his head. "Leave it alone, Owen."

"You can talk me, Ianto. I might be an arse at times, but I am this team's doctor. No matter what, no matter how you got those, you can talk to me."

Ianto looked at him. "I shot you. I hardly think that makes us friends."

Owen raised a brow. "Yeah, well, if it makes you feel any better, I would have shot you first if I'd had my gun."

Ianto slipped on his trousers, buttoning them as he spoke. "It's not that bad."

"It looks bad enough." Owen gestured to the bruises that covered Ianto's pale skin.

Ianto grabbed his t-shirt and slipped it over his head with a grimace.

He could feel Owen's eyes on him and Ianto felt his face flush.

Why did Owen have to care?

The seconds seemed to drag by. He picked at the hem of his shirt, hoping that Owen would just leave well enough alone, but he had a feeling he wasn't going to be so lucky.

The silence in the room was threatening to drive Owen insane. He wanted answers but he knew that he wasn't likely to get them by being his usual self. Owen wanted more than anything to knock Ianto out and strap him down to the table and scan him from head to toe, but he resisted the urge, knowing Gwen would tear him a new one if he tried. He needed to be subtle and try and coax the answers he needed out of Ianto

Owen approached the Welshman, stopping only feet from him. He kept his expression relaxed, trying to appear open and honest.

"Did you get in a fight?" Owen asked, watching Ianto carefully.

Ianto sighed. "You're not going to let this go are you?"

"Not likely."

Ianto rubbed the back of his neck and then walked over to the bench, taking a seat. He hung his head. Owen walked over to sit beside him, not saying a word.

"I've been going to the club, the one down in Riverside."

"You mean the fighting ring?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Christ, Ianto! You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"I didn't though."

"Well, from the looks of it you've come damned close."

"It's not that bad."

"Don't you start with that shit again. I'm not an idiot, Ianto."

"I didn't say you were."

"You might as well have, trying to convince me you're fine." Owen scrubbed a hand over his face. "You need to be checked over. When was the last time you went?"

Ianto leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Last night," he confessed. "I went three rounds."

"Fucking hell," Owen said. "All right, put your shoes on. You're coming with me."

Ianto tilted his head to look at him. "And where are we going?"

"Med bay, for all I know, your spleen is probably ready to rupture." He was trying to joke, but he knew from the position of the bruises that it may be truer than he'd like.

Ianto stripped off his shirt and lay out on the table. Owen then proceeded to examine every bruise carefully, not missing one.

"Can I ask you something?" Owen said.

Ianto sighed. "What?"

"Why? I mean, why did you let someone do this to you? I know you, Ianto. You're a good fighter."

"Not good enough, apparently."

Owen shook his head, feeling along Ianto's stomach. "It wasn't your fault he left, you know."

Ianto looked at Owen. "I know."

The doctor nodded. "Good, because I thought maybe you were punishing yourself."

Ianto looked away. "I'm not."

"Okay," Owen said, stepping back. "You're going to live to see another day. But from now on, call me before you go. I know I probably can't stop you from going, but I'd like the chance to try."

Ianto paused, Owen's words having caught him off guard. Owen sounded like he genuinely cared, and Ianto didn't know what to make of that, so he nodded and walked away, not sure if he would call him when the time came or not, but right then, he thought he just might.