Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood.

Warning: Spoilers for Exit wounds.

A/N Massive thanks to Aelfgyfu for betaing.

Jack Harkness was wandering around the Hub alone and completely bored. Gwen had gone home hours ago, Rhys had picked her up outside the tourist office, and Ianto had been gone since yesterday morning. Jack had woken to an empty bed with a Post-It on Ianto's pillow reading;

Gone to London, meeting with PM, back tomorrow/Thursday; in time for the interview; don't touch the coffee machine, or the archives, Ianto.

Ianto was gone to have a meeting with Prime Minister Dull, which was a rather unfortunate name, about his continued habit of including Torchwood reports in his briefings to the cabinet. But things were looking good on the interviewing front, they had almost completed the entire second round of interviews. The final one would be taking place in The Dragon's Arms at 12pm tomorrow.

The last two days had been busy enough; Ianto had left him a pile of paperwork to work though and the rift had been fluctuating, which meant a slight peak in Weevil sightings. But now the Weevils were all safely locked in the cells, the paperwork was all sitting neatly in files awaiting Ianto's return, and Jack was pacing the Hub.

He had nothing to do—absolutely nothing. The Weevils were all fed and were sleeping, but they could have been pretending to annoy him. Myfanwy was in her nest and refusing to come out, because Jack had forgotten to give her the chocolate that Ianto had left for her. There wasn't even any rift activity to keep him occupied. So, Jack decided to do what every immortal ex-time agent who was bored out of his mind, sexually frustrated and missing his hot archivist did.

Jack went Weevil hunting.

The term 'Weevil hunting' had become something of a double entendre in Torchwood. Once upon a time, Weevil hunting had meant running after vicious, barbaric aliens with a side dish of getting mauled, but since Ianto had joined, Weevil hunting had become an entirely different experience for Jack: mostly running around after vicious, barbaric Weevils with a side dish of sex.

When he and Ianto had started sleeping together Jack had used it as a euphemism for sex, a throwback to their very first meeting. The first few times Ianto had glared at him, certain that the others would catch on—but they hadn't, because even though they worked for a top-secret organisation, they were ridiculously oblivious of what was going on under their noses.

Jack had found that when he and Ianto did go Weevil hunting it generally ended in sex anyway. That had inevitably resulted in Weevil hunting becoming his new favourite pastime and leaving him feeling disturbingly aroused, which was why Owen had thought he was a pervert with a Weevil fetish.

Weevil hunting without Ianto felt like an anti-climax these days.

There was all that running around, adrenaline pumping, getting all sweaty and flushed, but no Ianto to seal the deal. It wasn't just the sex after the hunt that Jack enjoyed; it was the chase.

Running side by side with Ianto; keeping pace effortlessly; finding faultless footing on the uneven terrain; eating up the distance with long, powerful strides. They moved almost symbiotically now, communicating with looks and gestures. It made Jack feel close to Ianto, feel that he knew him intimately: what he was thinking; what he was feeling. That almost made Jack laugh aloud; no one really knew Ianto Jones.

Jack knew many of the faces that Ianto presented to the world: the dutiful employee, the meticulous archivist, the loyal manservant, the sexy fieldwork agent, even the attentive lover—Jack especially liked that Ianto—but no one knew the real Ianto, who hid behind suits and sex and coffee.

When Jack was running through the trees, with moonlight streaming through the foliage, Ianto running alongside grinning to himself and with the smell of sweat and blood and the sound of harsh, panting breaths in the air, Jack felt like he really knew Ianto. It was a lie –but it was a beautiful lie.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack walked through Bute Park, ignoring the pang of loneliness he felt each time he looked over to say something to Ianto and found he wasn't here. There had been some vague reports regarding a wild animal in the area; those usually turned out to be nothing more than a particularly aggressive badger, but every so often the reports actually turned out to be a Weevil, so Jack had decided to do some investigating.

He stalked through the trees, hoping that he didn't come across anyone out walking their dogs; the military coat tended to give them the wrong idea, and he hadn't brought any Retcon with him. Although, it was unlikely that anyone would be out on a night like this. There was the tail end of a hurricane blowing in from across the Atlantic; this meant that the wind was howling through the trees, bending them almost double. The rain was virtually horizontal. It hit him full in the face, stinging his skin, obscuring his vision and making his hair stick flat against his head. His coat was sodden and heavy, pulling his shoulders down and forcing him to hunch; it smelt like wet dog. Stay away from the mud, Jack; if he got mud on the coat Ianto was going to kill him.

Jack was starting to consider going back to the Hub; his teeth were chattering and he was shivering violently as water slipped down his spine in icy streams. Boredom couldn't be any worse than hypothermia; a warm, boring Hub was infinitely better than an exciting, freezing park.

Jack froze when he heard rustling in the bushes to his right. Please be a Weevil, please be a Weevil, please be a Weevil. He really didn't want to burst in on another copulating couple. Some people didn't react very well to an offer for a third.

Pulling out a can of Weevil spray from his pocket, Jack edged forward gingerly. The rustling increased, and just as Jack reached the shrubbery a Weevil shot out of the undergrowth and hit him square in the chest. Jack cursed as the Weevil spray flew from his grasp; he hit the gravel path hard. The breath rushed from his lungs as the Weevil's weight crushed down on top of him and the small pieces of stone stuck into the back of his neck, slowly embedding into his skin.

Jack flung his arm up to stop the Weevil from ripping out his throat and it snapped down onto his hand instead, biting down hard. Jack yelled as he felt the sharp teeth sliding slowly into his hand, slicing through muscle and shattering bones. Jack swung his right fist, and tried to dislodge the Weevil but he managed to do nothing but cause the Weevil to tighten its grip and growl menacingly. Jack braced for the inevitable feeling of claws ripping at his sides and the darkness that always followed.

But it didn't come. The Weevil released him with a muffled whine and Jack was left staring at the sky: the rain had eased off, leaving only a light drizzle and the clouds had begun to part revealing the night sky, deep inky black, like velvet; and stars, hundreds of worlds, some he had seen, and others he had yet to set eyes on, twinkling brightly. The drizzle was falling, slower now, into his eyes, scattering the glow of the stars like a prism, and he could feel the cold gravel digging into his back. But he ignored that; the allure of the stars, of the undiscovered wonders waiting for him to experience them—it pulled at him. The chance to travel, adventure, learn, voyage, all that wonder... The desire was so great he could almost taste it.

But then Ianto Jones' handsome, concerned face entered into his vision. Obscuring the stars; blocking out the longing. Grounding him. Jack closed his eyes and smiled.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ianto was driving past Cardiff Castle when he spotted the SUV and jammed on his brakes, causing the car to come to such an abrupt stop that, had it not been 4am and pouring rain, would have cased a massive pile-up.

Tapping his earpiece and receiving no answer from Gwen or Jack, Ianto pulled out his phone and hit speed dial. Jack's phone went straight to voicemail. Ianto tried Gwen's phone and winced guiltily when she answered drowsily on the fourth ring.

"'Lo."

"Gwen?"

Gwen's voice became more alert. "Ianto? What's wrong? Rift activity?"

"No, nothing—emm, I was just wondering if you and Jack were out on a call?"

"Nope, I'm in bed."

"Yeah, sorry, Gwen; look, I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Sorry for waking you up."

"Just have some fabulous coffee waiting for me in the morning."

Ianto chuckled, "Always." He hung up and stuck his mobile back into his jeans pocket.

Ianto bit his lip in indecision and tapped on the steering wheel. On the one hand, he had no idea what it was that Jack was looking for. On the other hand, Jack wouldn't go off on his own if it was something really dangerous, would he? Probably. But then again; Jack out on his own, late at night, in Bute Park—he was either looking to hook up with someone, --possible--, or he was Weevil hunting—that was slightly more plausible. If Jack wanted to find someone to have sex with he could do it in any bar across town, he didn't have to go traipsing around a park in the rain.

Most likely a Weevil, then.

Ianto reached back to pull his long, black overcoat out of the backseat, then felt underneath the passenger seat for the gun he had hidden there strapped to the underside of the seat. Placing it on the dashboard, he reached into the glove compartment to get some Weevil spray and a torch; he debated over whether or not to bring an umbrella but ultimately decided that the wind would probably destroy it.

It took a bit of work to get the car door open against the rain, but he managed, barely. Pulling his coat tight around him, Ianto tucked his gun into the waistband of his trousers and locked the car behind him. The weather report had said that the storm would lull tonight, giving a possibility of some dry spells, but Ianto had seen no sign of the rain abating. The strength of the wind buffeted him back against the car and he wondered what on earth had possessed Jack to go Weevil hunting on a night like this. Boredom, more than likely, knowing Jack.

Ianto switched the torch on and moved off into the trees. His suit was completely drenched almost immediately and stuck to his skin awkwardly, restricting his movement. His new dress shoes were also completely ruined, he'd have to requisition a new pair; the expensive, Italian leather was soaking and encased in a thick layer of mud. The mud was also clawing its way up his trouser legs, reaching halfway up his shins already.

Jack had better have an excellent reason for this escapade.

Then Ianto heard the scream. Jack! He took off at a run, ignoring the branches that snagged at his suit and scratched at his face. The torch was all but forgotten as he ran wildly, feet slipping and squelching in the thick mud, using the sound of the scream as a compass. As he drew nearer the sounds of scuffling and of heavy military boots scrabbling for purchase against gravel become more apparent; Ianto quickened his pace.

He burst through a line of bushes to find Jack lying flat on his back with a Weevil latched onto his hand. This is somewhat familiar. Ianto glanced around frantically for a weapon to dislodge the Weevil, and when his gaze fell upon a fallen branch he couldn't help but smile at the irony. Picking up the branch he hit the Weevil hard across the back of its head and it fell off Jack and onto its back. Ianto was on it in an instant, whipping the Weevil spray from his pocket and subduing it rapidly into unconsciousness.

Ianto turned to look at Jack and found him lying perfectly still on his back. "Jack, are you all right?" There was no answer from the other man; Jack was laying spread-eagled on the ground, his face blank and his gaze glassy, staring up into the sky, where a break in the clouds allowed some stars to shine through. Ianto scrambled over to him until his face was directly over Jack's.

"Jack, it's me—Ianto."

Jack closed his eyes and a slow, contented smile slide over his face; Ianto worried and began to look for bloodstains on Jack's person. Suddenly Jack's hand shot out and grabbed Ianto by his blood-red tie. Ianto started slightly at the unexpected contact, and Jack took full advantage by yanking on the tie and bringing Ianto to his knees so that he was straddling Jack. Ianto breathed a curse as the small stones of the path cut into his knees, but his muttering was cut off when Jack tugged again and lowered Ianto's lips to his own.

Ianto was surprised by how gentle the kiss was. No tongues, no teeth, no fire; just Jack's lips, barely touching his own. Their hot, sweet breath mixed in the tiny space between them and Ianto could feel the rain run across the curve of his lips and fall in minuscule droplets onto Jack's.

"Jack." Ianto whispered warningly and made to stand but Jack snaked a hand around the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss that was more typical of Weevil hunting. The fact that he was kneeling on top of his boss in the middle of a storm with an unconscious Weevil beside him eluded Ianto for a moment.

When Jack kissed him, everything sharpened, sensations were amplified; the gravel under his knees caused pinpricks of pain to explode on his skin, the rain slipping down his neck was colder and wetter than before, Jack's mouth was hot and damp and the slide of his tongue caused Ianto's tongue to tingle with an electric intensity.

Ianto pulled his head back and Jack flopped down with a disappointed groan. Ianto gave him a smile, "If this is going to happen, Captain, take that coat off and hang it on a tree; mud is impossible to get out." Ianto laughed as Jack displaced him in his hurry to stand and remove his coat, sending him flying into a pile of mud that seeped down his neck.

As soon as the coat was off, Jack returned and pinned Ianto into the mud with two hands on his shoulders. Ianto grinned up at him. "You seem to be a bit out of your depth, Captain," he said mildly.

Jack shook his head, "Ah, Mr Jones, when will you learn that I only put myself in these situations to be rescued by handsome, young men."

"Really?" Ianto said, "Find any?"

"No, one of my teammates has this terrible habit of swooping in like a big, dashing hero and saving me."

"What a tosser."

"Well he does have some good qualities to recommend him."

"Such as?"

"Well, he's pretty handy with a filing cabinet…aah!"

Ianto grinned up at Jack as he felt his freezing hand warming rapidly against Jack's bare skin, underneath his shirt. Weevil hunting was so much more fun with two—even if it did mean that on this occasion he was going to get mud in the most awkward places.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack was driving the SUV towards the pub where they were supposed to meet the final applicant, Robert Carmichael. Ianto was sitting beside him tense and angry. They were already thirty-five minutes late and Ianto was not best pleased; he said it went against his principles, and he apparently blamed Jack for their being late. Although there were two of them in the forest last night, two of them in the showers, two of them in Jack's bed last night, and this morning, and in the shower this morning—two of them. So Jack thought it was highly unfair that the blame was being squarely placed in his lap, or more accurately, his crotch.

When they arrived, the two men had to fight against the gusting wind which was threatening to take their legs from under them each time they took a step.

They had just managed to stumble through the door when Jack's eyes landed on someone he recognised; he put a hand on Ianto's arm to steady him and leaned close to murmur, "Ianto, eleven o clock." Ianto nodded imperceptibly and moved behind Jack to take his coat and subtly looked to where Jack had indicated. Jack felt a tightening of Ianto's hand on his shoulder and knew that he'd seen and understood.

Jack took another look around and his eyes fell on the candidate, Robert Carmichael. Jack gave an appreciative grin as the man stood. He was tall, almost as tall as Ianto, but he was of a more stocky build—surprising for a computer technician, but perfect for the field agent that Jack needed. He had intelligent green eyes and sandy brown hair. He was dressed casually, filling out a dark green jumper and pair of blue jeans very well; this was going to be fun.

"Captain Jack Harkness. Pleasure to meet you, Robert; I can call you Robert, can't I?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When they left the pub an hour later Ianto was still laughing at Jack, his mood most definitely improved, and Jack was feeling a bit put out over Robert's rather blunt refusal.

"Come on, Ianto," Jack said as they sat in the car, "I didn't do that badly, four out of eight isn't bad."

"Jack, of those four, you only received two nervous, bordering on desperate, fumbling snog sessions in the back alley and one phone number to a personal phone…four? You're not counting that game of footsie with Dr Winstone, are you?" Jack nodded guiltily. "Jack, the man though that it was a mouse! All in all, I'd say you're losing your touch, Captain."

"How dare you, Ianto; it's not like I wanted to have sex with any of them."

"Then what exactly were the motives behind your unique interview technique?"

"I don't want to hire people who would sleep with me."

"Jack, that doesn't make any sense, you only hire people who would sleep with you. I am sleeping with you."

Jack rolled his eyes impatiently. "Yes, Ianto, but I want them to present a bit of a challenge. You're sleeping with me now, but it took work: persistence, commitment. And it was worth it. Ianto Jones you were an impossible thing; so close but untouchable, attracting and repelling in equal measure, flirting and rejecting with crushing indifference. I need people who will challenge me, Ianto, not people who will go along with everything I say."

Ianto still looked confused. "So in order to see if they would challenge you, you used the most powerful weapon in your arsenal: sex."

"Exactly…"

"But you didn't get any sex."

"Ianto…"

"You got a drink thrown on you and a slap, and a threat to smash a glass of Magners into your face."

Jack cleared his throat and avoided noticing the way Ianto's shoulders quivered with suppressed laughter. He decided a change in subject would be wise; "So what did you say to Mulroney?"

It was Ianto's turn to grimace as he recalled that particularly unpleasant encounter. "Well, as you know, he missed his last few appointments to check in with me. I asked him about it, and he spent the next five minutes explaining, in vivid detail, the Raxoniaxus birthing process. Did you know that the male carries the baby and that it literally explodes through his stomach? That's another little gem for the archives."

"Did you explain how dangerous it is for the refugees to be missing their contact appointments? We have no idea what could have happened to them."

Ianto rolled his eyes and answered in a weary voice, "Yes, Jack, I did. He knows how important check-in is, but he's found adapting to earth technology particularly difficult. I'm giving him another lesson in the correct use of a mobile telephone in our next meeting."

They were silent for a while as the SUV sat idling in traffic; the only sound was the swish of the windscreen wipers and the gentle thrumming of the engine.

"I like him." Ianto said out of the blue, staring out of his window. Jack grinned; anyone who won Ianto over was generally a good catch.

Robert Carmichael was as good as hired.

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