Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Who-verse. That honour belongs to RTD (the TW arm at least – Miracle Day, what were you thinking?), Steven Moffat (I am not worthy) and the mighty and glorious BBC. I merely play here occasionally and try to set right the terrible wrongs inflicted on Jack and Ianto...

Thank you to everyone for reading and, as always, feedback is very welcome.


Ianto shrugged out of his padded jacket, letting it drop onto the end of the bed, his eyes never leaving Jack who had already divested himself of his greatcoat (slung over the couch in the living area) and his shirt (pooled on the floor at the foot of the bed) and was now stepping out of his canvas trousers. Ianto swallowed at the view of Jack's long muscular legs. They'd been married a year but the sight of his husband's lean limbs still had the power to take his breath away and his fingers fumbled as they pulled the T-shirt from the waistband of his jeans. Jack, now gloriously naked, looked across at him, the smile on his face turned up to a million megawatts, and sprawled across the crisp white duvet, his eyes frankly appreciative as Ianto concluded his own striptease.

Ianto swept his discarded clothing to the floor with an impatient hand, uncaring of the messy pile they made, and practically dived into Jack's waiting arms. Covering Jack's body with his own, Ianto pushed Jack's head into the duvet, devouring Jack's mouth like a man possessed. Jack's arms snaked around Ianto's shoulders, one hand clasping the back of Ianto's head and pulling him down even further so that he couldn't have pulled away even if he'd wanted to. In turn Ianto's fingers buried themselves in Jack's hair. Ianto's kiss was almost frantic, his tongue first diving deep into his husband's mouth then retreating so that Ianto could run the tip along the sharp edge of Jack's teeth before meeting Jack's tongue in a fierce duel. A guttural moan escaped Jack's lips, inflaming Ianto still further. Ripping his fingers from Jack's hair, his hands sought out Jack's, forcing him to release his hold, but Jack's hands evaded capture, leaving Ianto's fingers scrabbling for purchase in the duvet at either side of Jack's head. Lifting his mouth from Jack's, his lips instead sought out the soft skin of his husband's neck, alternating tender suckling with eager nips, intent on leaving his mark for everyone to see.

Finding his mouth released but unable to move, pinned to the bed by Ianto's weight, Jack gasped Ianto's name, a plea for more. At the same time his hands landed in the small of Ianto's back and journeyed up and down the length of his spine, his fingertips dancing across the heated skin in vague circles. Ianto shuddered, biting down hard on Jack's neck, eliciting a yelp of pain from the older man. Ianto's lips and tongue immediately soothed away the hurt, then he raised his head to meet Jack's heated gaze.

"Sorry, cariad," he apologised softly. In response Jack smiled lazily and in one swift movement flipped Ianto onto his back, reversing their positions. Ianto's startled cry was smothered as Jack's mouth came down fiercely upon his, his husband's tongue thrusting aggressively into his mouth. In his ears he could hear his own aborted cry transform into a whimper as Jack's hands brushed featherlight against his hip before grasping his wrists and pinning them to the bed. Without releasing his hands or his mouth, Jack ground his hips down, the friction sending Ianto's trapped hips into spasms as he tried to buck against Jack. At the same moment, Jack bit down on Ianto's lower lip, drawing a bead of blood as the younger man let out a guttural chocking cry. Jack lifted his head, his eyes so dark they appeared black in the subdued lighting of the cabin, and delicately and deliberately licked the drop of blood from Ianto's lip. Then lowering his head once more he circled the wound with his lips and sucked hard, Ianto's blood flowing into his mouth. All the time his dark eyes fixed on his husband's, looking for any sign that he had gone too far. This wasn't the first time they had played rough, or even indulged in bloodplay, but he was aware how fine the line was between pleasurable pain and cruelty and he never wanted to cross it. Not with Ianto.

Ianto's eyes flared and he moaned in pleasure. Jack smiled against Ianto's mouth, releasing his hold, and ran his tongue along the profile of Ianto's chin and down his throat. Reaching his collarbone, Jack bit down again, catching a soft fold of skin between his teeth in a nip that was just the far side of playful. He felt Ianto draw a sharp breath, but it was accompanied by a long drawn out shudder of need. Jack caught the fold of skin between his teeth again, this time holding it with just the slightest pressure so that any movement from Ianto would tug against the sharp edges. The shudder was repeated, the movement drawing another intake of breath from Ianto which this time carried Jack's name.

Jack let go, instead driving his hips down again, pushing Ianto's deeper into the soft mattress.

"Jack, please." Ianto's breath was coming in shallow gasps.

"Not yet," Jack said lazily. "I'm not ready." As he spoke he slid his back side down so that it was nestled between Ianto thighs and leaned forward to take one of Ianto's nipples between his teeth, biting and laving in alternate movements. Ianto bucked against him, his hands fighting for freedom, but Jack's hold was inflexible.

"Patience," scolded Jack as he moved his mouth across Ianto's chest to transfer his attentions to the other neglected nub.

"Fuck patience," Ianto muttered between gasps, his hands fluttering beneath Jack's, desperate to reciprocate Jack's touch.

Jack lifted his mouth free long enough to make a tutting noise, tangled his fingers with Ianto's, curbing even that small measure of movement, and let his teeth graze across the sensitive skin of Ianto's chest. There was a helpless whimper of need from his partner, small and yet completely intoxicating. Jack felt an echoing tremor run through his own frame at the sound.

Jack's eyes lifted to meet Ianto's pleading ones.

"I want you to scream," he growled.

Ianto's head, the only part of him free to move, thrashed from side to side. "I can't, not here," he protested weakly. "The neighbours."

"I thought we didn't care about things like that?" Jack said, dipping his head once more to lave open mouth kisses in a slow progression down Ianto's chest and onto his stomach.

Ianto moaned. A few more inches and he knew no power on Earth would be able to stop him screaming Jack's name into the night, let alone the thought of the shocked expressions of a few of his narrowboat neighbours come the morning.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Ianto was so focused on the hot spiralling desire radiating from low in his belly that he almost missed Jack's quiet question. Suddenly Jack's face was looming above his, eyes soft but serious.

"Do you want me to stop?" he repeated softly. "I will if this bothers you." As he spoke he released Ianto's hands from their imprisonment, his own coming to rest either side of Ianto's shoulders, their touch a fiery brand on his skin.

Ianto swallowed and licked his lips, tasting the faint metallic tang of his own blood on his tongue. He drew in a shaky breath and took Jack's face between his hands, guiding him back down to his heated skin.

"Never stop, Jack. Not ever."


The smell of freshly brewed coffee and frying bacon tempted Jack out of sleep, his eyes reluctantly opening to be assaulted by bright spring sunshine pouring through the porthole above the bed. With a groan he lifted his head a few centimetres from the pillow, taking in the empty bed and the heavy white duvet which had obviously been tucked carefully around his shoulders by the departing Ianto. Clearly a long lazy morning between the sheets – one of Jack's absolute favourite pastimes – was not on his husband's agenda. Judging by the light slanting down onto the covers, it was still fairly early. He groaned again. Weren't they supposed to be on holiday?

At the sound of his waking protestations, Ianto stuck his head around the partitioning door, his face cheery and obscenely awake.

"Morning, cariad. Breakfast in five? We need to get on our way."

Jack noticed with some amusement that Ianto appeared to be bouncing on the balls of his feet like an over-enthusiastic six-year-old. He turned over, freeing himself from the confines of the duvet, and pushed himself up into a sitting position, propping the pillow behind him so he could lean back on the wood panelled wall.

He deliberately let the duvet fall low on his hips and cocked one eyebrow suggestively.

"What's the rush? It's still early. Wouldn't you prefer to come back to bed?"

For a moment Ianto looked tempted, his eyes flaring, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, but then he shook his head with an apologetic smile.

"Can I take a rain check? We really need to get going if we're going to get to Gargrave by lunchtime." His words was accompanied by full-on puppy dog pleading eyes directed squarely at Jack.

Jack gave a snort of laughter. Those eyes got him every time.

"OK, a rain check it is." Pushing the duvet from him, he slowly climbed to his feet, each movement exaggerated to give Ianto the best possible view of exactly what he was missing.

"Playing dirty, Jack," Ianto muttered, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of the long limbs and firm backside currently being displayed.

"Hey, I call them as I see them," Jack countered with a cheeky grin over his shoulder as he disappeared into the bathroom. Ianto swallowed hard and resolutely turned his back on the bedroom, thinking that the bacon sarnies he'd been looking forward to were suddenly much lower down on this mornings list of priorities.


When Jack emerged from the bedroom ten minutes later, the long legs and firm backside were encased in a pair of snug black denim jeans that sent Ianto's imagination spiralling off into dangerous territory once again. Jack pulled a plain, fitted black tee over his head, his dark hair tousled and still damp from the shower, and threw himself full length onto the L-shaped couch, crossing his arms behind his head.

"You promised me breakfast," he said cheerily, looking across to Ianto stood in the galley kitchen, open-mouthed and brandishing a spatula. Jack's eyes ran appreciatively over his husband, taking in the faded blue jeans and even more faded T-shirt, a tea towel tucked into the waistband to form a makeshift apron. "Feed me."

Ianto's eyebrows raised a fraction in amusement.

"Are you planning on auditioning for Grease, Jack? All you need is a leather jacket and a quiff and you'll be all set to join the T-Birds."

Jack grinned and teased his damp hair into an untidy coiffure. "If I'm Danny, will you be my Sandy?" he asked laughingly.

Ianto grimaced and shuddered in distaste that was in no way faked. "Over my dead body," he said matter-of-factly. "Actually over my long dead rotting corpse buried at the bottom of a pit for a hundred thousand years. You have no concept of how much I hate that musical." He gave another shudder.

Jack's face fell. "Does that mean you don't like my outfit?"

Ianto cocked his head to one side and allowed his eyes to travel along the length of Jack's supine form as though considering his verdict. His lips twitched.

"It works," he conceded with feigned reluctance. "How many of those t-shirts did you bring?" he asked after a pause. He didn't see it surviving being ripped off Jack's back, something he intended to do first chance he got.

"Enough," Jack replied smoothly with a wicked smile, reading his husband's intentions clearly on Ianto's face.

Ianto swallowed and turned back to the stove to hide the smile of anticipation that he knew had sprung to his lips.

"I doubt it," he retorted, just loud enough for Jack to hear.

On the hob a heavy iron frying pan was filled with half a dozen sizzling rashers of thickly cut bacon edged with crispy fat. The smell was divine, making Ianto's mouth water. He considered himself a pretty health conscious individual but bacon was sacred and deserved every consideration. Twirling the spatula between two fingers he lifted the bacon from the frying pan into the grill pan, sliding it under the grill to keep warm and tipped a chopping board full of sliced field mushrooms into the hot pan tossing them in the bacon fat. Then he pulled two heavy earthenware mugs from a cupboard and filled them with freshly brewed coffee, adding milk and sugar to Jack's and just milk to his own.

"I'm wasting away here," Jack's piped up plaintively. "At least give me coffee."

Ianto smirked, keeping his back firmly turned. "Patience, cariad." He could feel Jack's evil look boring into his back. "Payback's a bitch, ain't it?" He didn't bother to hide the smug satisfaction in his voice. He was still congratulating himself on his revenge for the previous evening when Jack wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him back against his chest, his hips thrust forward so that Ianto could feel Jack along the whole length of his body. Jack's free hand deftly released the button of Ianto's jeans and he worked his fingers inside the soft worn denim before Ianto had time to do more than let out a faint squeak of surprise.

Jack flattened his hand against Ianto's stomach, pulled the younger man even closer to him and lifted his lips to Ianto's ear.

"You were saying?"

Ianto squirmed against Jack's hand. "Bacon sandwiches, with mushrooms," he said desperately, waving the spatula high enough so Jack could see it. "And coffee, lots of coffee."

"And what makes you think I'll be swayed by mere food?" Jack's voice was silky as he drummed his fingers once against Ianto's taut stomach. He felt a tremor under his finger tips and smirked against Ianto's neck, then realised the tremor was not one of desire, but mirth. Almost at the instant he realised that, Ianto let out the snort of derisive laughter he'd been trying to stifle.

"Oh, please. After a night like last night you're usually practically ready to chew the carpet. I could hear your stomach rumbling from here." To lend support to Ianto's argument, Jack's stomach chose that moment to give a loud and protracted growl.

"You know me too well," Jack grumbled, stepping back and extricating his hand from inside Ianto's jeans with a final departing caress. Ianto caught the hand and held it as he turned to face Jack, raising it to his lips and placing a deliberate and open mouthed kiss on the palm.

"Yes, I do, and don't think for a minute this is over, cariad," he warned gently. "You know how I hate unfinished business." Turning back to the hob he turned off the gas, and busied himself piling rashers of bacon and fried mushrooms between thick slices of crusty white bread cut from a fresh loaf. He picked up one plate and a mug and turned round, thrusting them into Jack's waiting hands.

"Breakfast is served," he announced, watching Jack's eyes light up hungrily at the sight of the very generous portion on his plate.

"About bloody time," Jack replied breezily. "A man could die waiting for you to..." He trailed off at the sight of the arched eyebrow aimed menacingly in his direction and instead retreated to the sofa, gulping coffee as he did so.

Ianto smiled sweetly and picked up his own plate and mug, sitting at the opposite end of the sofa, as far away from Jack's potential wandering hands as he could manage.


Twenty minutes later Ianto poked his head up through the hatch and took a deep breath. The April air was crisp, carrying the peaty smell of the neighbouring moors, overlaid by the faint acrid smell of engine oil. Ianto loved it. It was a smell he associated with some of the happiest times of his life, the few times he had felt completely at peace, and though it was over twenty years since he had last visited, the remembrance was instantaneous. With a broad smile of pure contentment he clambered up the steep almost ladder-like steps up onto the tiny square of deck, the keys for the engine clasped in one hand. As he straightened he found himself looking into the dour face of a middle aged woman who was sat on the equally tiny fore deck of the adjacent barge. Her eyes raked Ianto up and down, her mouth, a thin line in her thin face, was turned downwards in a moue of distaste.

"Good morning," Ianto began politely, his greeting tailing away as the woman lifted her beak-like nose a good inch in the air to stare at him down its length.

"You must be Mr Jones," she said dryly, her voice carrying an unpleasant nasal quality. From her accent Ianto recognised that she wasn't local but from somewhere in the south of the country. "Mr Thwaite warned us you were coming last night. I didn't expect your arrival to be so noisy." She sniffed in disapproval. "There are rules about excessive noise after dusk." It was all Ianto could do not to snort with laughter at the woman's unintentional faux pas but before he had chance to do more than school his features into a semblance of seriousness, a lazy American drawl issued from behind him.

"I must apologise for my husband, ma'am. He's a bit of a screamer." Ianto opened his mouth to reprimand Jack but the only sound that came out was a chocking cough. Jack climbed up out of the hatch and thumped Ianto on the back, pulling the young man to him whilst at the same time turning his tried and tested smile of easy charm and winsome innocence on the woman. She blinked at him, somewhat disconcerted, but her expression grew even more wintery.

"And you are?" Her eyes raked up and down Jack's form with even more disapproval than they had Ianto's.

Jack's eyebrows rose a little in surprise. It was rare that his 'forgive-me-I'm-adorable' smile failed to charm a member of the opposite sex, or the same sex for that matter. His own smile grew cool in response.

"I am Captain Jack Harkness-Jones. I apologise if we disturbed you. As we are moving on this morning, please be assured that our presence will no longer be a cause for concern." His tone, though polite, had an edge of menace.

The woman's expression remained sceptical; clearly the black tee and jeans combo was less imposing than his traditional greatcoat.

"A Captain of what, may I ask?" she said haughtily.

Ianto noticed that their exchange with the woman was now being observed by the occupants of two other boats, not to mention a couple on the towpath walking a large red setter.

"Jack," he said warningly under his breath. Jack ran his hand up and down Ianto's arm reassuringly, drawing a tiny breath from the woman.

Jack saw the tiny movement and all the friendliness vanished from his face in an instant.

"Torchwood," he said quietly, watching with satisfaction as every vestige of colour drained from the woman's face. In the time since the 456, Torchwood's existence and remit had become public knowledge, although the extent and methods of its operation were still shrouded in secrecy and the name was still spoken in hushed whispers by those who dared to speak its name at all. "And who do I have pleasure of speaking to?"

Ianto could see the woman was desperate not to answer but had no alternative.

"Miss Jenkinson. Caroline Jenkinson." Her reply was the merest whisper but Jack's ears caught it.

"Miss Jenkinson," Jack said thoughtfully, and then, as an aside to Ianto, "Figures," before turning back. "Miss Jenkinson, Caroline. I may call you Caroline, may I?" The woman made no response. "Well, Caroline, as I said I am sorry we woke you, but we are moving on to Gargrave this morning." he looked to Ianto for confirmation, who nodded. "So there is no need for our paths to cross again, is there?"

He held Miss Jenkinson's gaze until she looked away and stammered, "I...I was planning on moving on towards Leeds today."

"Lovely. Good day to you, Miss Jenkinson," he said smoothly, turning his back on the woman without another glance and dropping a kiss onto Ianto's lips.

He heard a scuffling and the click of a door behind him and he knew that Miss Jenkinson had made a swift retreat. He grinned.

"I love messing with the locals."

"That was cruel, Jack," Ianto scolded, though his smile was broad.

"She deserved it. Who does she think she is to pass judgement on us? I mean those attitudes died out twenty years ago," Jack said heatedly.

Ianto leaned in to return Jack's kiss.

"I love it that you're still fighting monsters for me, cariad."

Jack's brow lightened. He was just about to respond in kind when a call of "Mornin'" drew his attention. Looking over Ianto's shoulder he saw a round-faced, rotund man in his sixties waving at him from the next barge along.

"Hello," Jack called back, a little reserved and half expecting more disapproving frowns.

"My name's Pete. Peter Thatcher. I just wanted to say thank you for putting the fear of god into that ferret-faced Jenkinson woman. She's been lording it here like queen of the canal for the best part of a sen'night. I thought we'd never get rid of her."

"Glad I could oblige," Jack said cheerily, relaxing once more.

"Tell me. Do you really work for Torchwood?" Pete asked curiously. "Or was that just something to frighten her with?"

Jack's grinned wickedly. "I don't work for Torchwood," he said almost conspiratorially, although everyone for three boats either side could hear him. "I run Torchwood." He saw Pete's eyes widen and the man's smile grow nervous, and he laughed. "Don't worry, we're a bunch of pussy cats unless you're an alien menace trying to take over the world. Then we really kick ass."

Pete's face relaxed a fraction, then tensed again as the thought of why Jack and Ianto might be there filtered through. Seeing the sudden fear, Jack relented, taking pity on him. "Honest, Pete, today Ianto and I are just a couple celebrating their wedding anniversary. No kicking ass, no alien menace – well, unless you count Miss Jenkinson there. There is definitely a trace of Gr'boxi DNA in there somewhere." He smiled reassuringly at Pete.

"Congratulations," Pete offered, his face easing. "I'll let you get on. Enjoy your holiday."

"Thank you," Jack said sincerely. "And I apologise if we woke you last night."

"Nah, Steve and I rather enjoyed the show." Pete winked at a slim man in his fifties stood on the tow path with a bottle of milk and a newspaper. The man nodded back and gave Jack a cheeky wink.

"Highly entertaining," he commented. "Gave me lots of new ideas. Thanks."

Jack's grin grew even more wicked. "Like I said, glad I could oblige."

Steve and Pete disappeared into their barge, and Jack turned to find Ianto staring at him with an amused expression.

"When you've quite finished messing with the locals..." He pointed to the ropes securing the boat to the mooring fore and aft. "Untie us... and don't fall in!"

He turned his back on Jack and started up the engine, the diesel motor coughing and spluttering to life for several seconds before a throaty throb filled the air.

Jack jumped onto the quay, moving to the front of the barge to cast off the rope there before returning aft to release the boat from its mooring. The boat began to manoeuvre away from the mooring under Ianto's practised steering and Jack leapt deftly onto the deck to stand against the cabin housing watching Ianto's face, stern with concentration, as he manned the tiller.

After several minutes the crowded mooring of the boatyard vanished around the first bend.

"Alone at last," Jack commented with relief.

"Just you, me and Myfanwy," Ianto agreed with a contented smile. "The boat," he added seeing a tiny adorable frown of confusion on his husband's face. "She brought us together."

"Literally and painfully," Jack commented in fond recollection. "That warehouse floor was hard."

Ianto raised one sardonic eyebrow. "Speaks Jack Harkness, the immortal. You big baby. Why don't you make yourself useful and go get me a cup of coffee?"

Jack raised his hand in a sharp salute, "Aye aye, sir," and vanished into the cabin.

Ianto looked about him; at the dark almost still water, the surface broken only by the slow wake of the engine and the occasional duck swimming across their path; at the low overhanging branches which at the bank almost touched the water, speckled with dark green buds which in just a few short weeks would erupt into a sea of green shady leaves; at the gleaming paintwork of Myfanwy, his boat, the one thing apart from Jack that he had always wanted.

He ran his hand lovingly over the gleaming black enamel finish of the guard rail.

"Should I be jealous?"

Jack climbed awkwardly out of the cabin, his tall stature making the narrow entranceway difficult to negotiate. He held out a mug of coffee to Ianto.

"Thanks," he said taking it in one hand and sipping it appreciatively.

"So," Jack mused, taking a sip of his own coffee. "What do we do now?"

Ianto smiled. "We lay back and watch the world go by at the exhilarating speed of three miles an hour."

"And that's it?" Jack's question was incredulous. Ianto could already see him fidget at the thought of prolonged inactivity.

"And that's it, Jack. We spend our lives running about, always trying to keep one step ahead of whatever is out there. I want to stop, just for a moment, and you need to. That's what this is about."

"What do you mean, I need to stop?" This time his question was defensive.

Ianto's voice was patient. "You've lived for centuries, Jack, and you've done some amazing things, seen some amazing things, but you're always on the move. Moving on to the next experience. Before the 456 we squandered the time we had because there was always something to fight, some reason to keep running. We didn't have a choice back then, I know that. But we were lucky, we got another shot, and I don't intend to squander one second of the time we have now. So that's why we're here. Nothing to fight, no reason to run, just time to live in the moment. Try it, you might find you enjoy it."

Jack looked uncertain. "I'm not sure I'm capable of being still," he muttered.

"Climb up on the roof, lie on your back and watch the sky go by," Ianto advised. "And while you're there think of all that unfinished business I have planned for you for later."

Jack set his coffee cup down on the roof of the cabin.

"Permission to approach," he said softly.

"Permission granted." Two steps and Jack was facing Ianto.

"Permission to come aboard, sir." The 'sir' was spoken in a deferential whisper.

Ianto inclined his head in assent and Jack lowered his lips to Ianto's in a tender kiss which he did not try to deepen, pulling his head away after just a few moments.

"Lie back, look at the sky and think of you. I think I can manage that."

Jack pulled himself up onto the cabin roof, lying full length with his arms behind his head, face turned towards the blue sky above. Ianto smiled as tranquillity resumed. A few moments later, a jaunty whistle rose from above the cabin. Ianto groaned as 'What Shall We Do With A Drunken Sailor' shattered the silence.