AN: This is a slightly lighter, fluffier piece, as per request. It's also slightly long, to make up for the long delay between chapters. Hope you enjoy it! Please leave a review, if you are so inclined.

Disclaimer: All rights to "Torchwood" and it's characters belong to RTD and the BBC. I make no money, and mean no harm.

The phone had been ringing ceaselessly for ten minutes before Jack reached out to answer it and knocked the lamp off the table. The crash it made hitting the ground, coupled with the still ringing phone, were enough to send Ianto shooting off the bed and reaching for the pistol he kept in the drawer. Pistol in hand and still half asleep, he looked around fruitlessly for the invader.

"It was just a lamp," Jack said, hands held out in front of him. "I'll replace it. Don't shoot."

Ianto lowered the gun, and voice shaking, asked, "What the hell is going on?"

Jack shrugged. "Phones been going nuts for about a quarter of an hour. I was reaching for it and I knocked your lamp over." He gave Ianto a sheepish grin. Ianto stared at him for a moment, then at the phone, then back to Jack. Jack gave him a puzzled look in return.

"It's still ringing, Jack. Were you going to answer it?"

"It's your phone. Why don't you have a machine?"

"Because no one has that number. Except Torchwood, and you lot always call my mobile. It's still ringing, Jack. And it's on your side."

Jack sighed and grabbed the phone. "Yes?" he said, not even trying to hide the irritation in his voice.

"Jack? Is that you?" Jack frowned and mouthed Owen in Ianto's direction.

"Yes, it's me. What's up?" There was a beat of silence on the other end, and then Owen cleared his throat.

"Well," he said, finally, "I was calling for Ianto. Is he around?"

"He's sleeping," Jack said "Is there a reason you're calling him at this hour?"

"No, Jack, I wanted to ask him if his refrigerator was running. Is there a reason you're answering his phone? Forget that, I don't want to know. I'm standing outside his flat and it's bloody freezing out here. Let me in."

Jack's brow furrowed, and he gave Ianto a 'what the hell' look.

"Why are you here?" he asked, and Owen snorted.

"I had to put four stitches in his scalp tonight. I've been ringing his mobile for over an hour. When he didn't answer I got worried. Thought he might have slipped into a coma. If I'd known he wasn't alone, I wouldn't have bothered. Seeing as I've come all this way, I'd still like to check him over. Let me in, Jack."

Jack hung up and told Ianto what was going on.

"He wanted me to go back to his," Ianto said, "but I told him I'd be all right. I didn't realise he'd get so worked up over it."

"Well, he is a doctor. I suppose we'd better let him in; I don't think he's going away."

Ianto nodded, already heading for the door. Jack was grateful that they were both dressed. He could just imagine Ianto trying to put trousers on while rushing for the door, falling and re-opening the wound on his scalp. Owen would have laughed heartily while re-stitching it, but Jack would've received a stern and angry lecture after Ianto fell asleep.

It was weird, but Owen had taken to lecturing Jack a lot these days, about Ianto, and more specifically, about all the things Jack did that Owen felt were bad for the young man's health. In the past month they'd been through the 'You have to let him sleep, at least four hours' lecture, the 'Make sure he eats at some point, he's already lost too much weight' address, and, Jack's personal favourite, the 'If you plan to leave again, please drop Ianto a note, or take him with you' sermon. That one had gone on for over an hour, and there was something about Owen's newfound proclivity for preaching at him that unsettled Jack.

Jack settled himself on the sofa, listening as Ianto tried to get rid of Owen at the door.

"Nice try," he heard Owen say, "but I'm not leaving until you get looked over. Came all this way, at two a.m.; I'm not gonna waste that much time. Into the kitchen with you." Owen led the way, cutting across the living room and giving Jack a slight nod of greeting.

There was a slight look of disdain on the medic's face, as if it were Jack's fault that Ianto was hurt. In reality, Jack hadn't even been there when Ianto had sustained the injury, which was actually Owen's fault, if they were going to be throwing around blame.

"Touch my finger, and then your nose," Owen was saying, putting Ianto through the very same tests he'd put him through at the hub.

"Good," Owen said, when Ianto had easily complied. "Now smile. Good. Who's the Prime Minister? What's today's date? Spell your middle name." The questions seemed almost endless to Jack, and he could tell that Ianto felt the same way. It had only been some stitches; it wasn't as if Ianto had cracked his skull open.

That didn't seem to matter to Owen, though, and he continued asking trivial questions, and forcing Ianto to perform ridiculous tasks, ostensibly to check his motor skills. It seemed to Jack, as it was quickly approaching the hour mark of this impromptu exam, that Owen was being purposely tiresome.

It was almost another hour yet before Owen left. He gave Ianto a clean bill of health, except for the head wound, and then left with the air of a man who'd just did someone a huge favour, even though Ianto's newest collection of stitches were technically Owen's doing, in more ways than one.

That thought gave Jack a nagging feeling that he'd forgotten something, but he was too tired to worry about it right then. If it were important he figured it would come back to him eventually.

Yawning, he pulled Ianto back to the bedroom, and fell asleep almost instantly.

xxxXXXxxx

When Tosh arrived to work the next morning, the first thing she noticed was that Ianto was dress oddly. Not oddly for most people, granted, but one had to judge Ianto on a different scale. The outfit he'd shown up for work in was the equivalent any normal secretary showing up in a burlap sack, with a shoebox on his head.

Ianto was wearing jeans. And a tee shirt. And sneakers. And a cap, an actual ball cap, which was thankfully not backwards.

"What?" he asked tightly, when he caught Tosh staring at him.

"You," Tosh almost stammered, "you're wearing-"

"Clothing. Normal clothing, of the kind men wear everyday. It isn't a big deal, let's move on."

He headed for the coffee machine, and started preparing cups, as if nothing in the world were off kilter. Tosh started to follow him, remembered the look that had been on his face, and walked to her desk. The curiosity was killing her, but she decided to let somebody else take the fallout of asking. Because Gwen would almost certainly ask, and if she didn't, Owen was a sure bet.

When Gwen arrived Ianto handed her a cup of coffee, and walked away without a word. Gwen raised her eyebrows, and Tosh shrugged and shook her head as if to say, 'I haven't the slightest, and I am not asking'.

xxxXXXxxx

"Oi!" Owen yelled when he finally made it into the hub "Was there a costume party I forgot about? Why are you dressed like that?"

"Ask Jack," Ianto said, almost slamming a coffee cup into Owen's hand. "Ask Jack why I'm dressed like this."

"Harkness!" Owen yelled, not bothering to move. Jack popped his head out of his office, looking slightly apprehensive.

"Why have you got Ianto dressed up like a real boy?"

"Look," Jack said, almost sheepishly, "I forgot to pick up his dry-cleaning, okay?"

"You pick up his dry-cleaning? I thought he was your slave."

"He's not a slave. And, no I don't usually do his laundry, but after you hit him in the head with your gun-butt yesterday, I took him home and told him I'd pick up the dry-cleaning on my way back from the hub. And I forgot, but you were the one that knocked him out, so this is technically your fault."

"That was an accident!" Owen yelled, clearly seeing the bus Jack was trying to throw him under. "I had no idea he was standing right behind me."

"Oh, I'm sure," Jack said. "How is it that it's only Ianto that you accidentally hurt? Last week you tripped and spilled hot coffee on him, a month ago you punched him in the face. How was punching him in the face an accident again?"

"We were chasing an alien, and it was dark. And why is this suddenly about me? You're just trying to get him pissed at me, so he won't remember to be pissed at you."

"No, I honestly feel that this is your fault. If you would stop subconsciously attacking Ianto, this never would have happened."

"Subconsciously attacking Ianto?" Owen said slowly, the proverbial bus close enough he could feel the wind. "Have you lost it completely? Why would I do that?"

"Come on, it's no secret that there's no love lost between you two."

"Yeah, alright," Owen countered, "but follow my logic here. I'm the medic. I treat you guys when you're injured. Every time something happens to Ianto, whether I caused it or not, I end up spending more time with him than I otherwise would. So, why would I, in the context of your theory, be injuring him on purpose, when it means I have to see him more?"

"Maybe your subconscious hasn't thought it through enough," Jack said, and then grinned as a particularly malicious idea occurred to him. "Or maybe, it's your way of flirting with him. Maybe you actually like spending time with Ianto, and this is your way of insuring that happens."

Owen stood in stunned silence for a moment, and then said, "Oh…my…God. That's mental. You're mental."

"I don't think so," Jack said, still grinning and crossing his arms. "I think I'm right. It makes complete sense, explains everything. You keep hurting Ianto because you like him. Now that I think about it, there always has been a lot of weird sexual tension between you two."

"Weird… Okay, fine. You win; you've got me. Found me out, you did. Hurting people is my way of expressing affection. Every time I have a crush on someone, I always punch them in the nose. If they still talk to me after, I know they're mine forever. That's so much easier than asking them out for coffee, or saying 'you look nice today, red really is your colour.' More efficient my way."

"Owen, you need help. You are a very sick man."

"Oh, for Christ's sake! I don't have a thing for Ianto, and I am not hurting him on purpose. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Stop having him on, Jack," Ianto interjected. "It bothers me. Can we please just get to work, instead of discussing my clothes all day?"

Jack looked about to protest, but to Owen's relief, he relented.

"Fine," Jack said, turning to go back into his office. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

Ianto gave Owen a somewhat apologetic, somewhat exasperated look, and then disappeared into the archives.

Working at Torchwood, Owen assumed he'd never have a strange day again, but this certainly came the closest to one he'd had in years.

xxxXXXxxx

Later that afternoon, as Jack drove him back from the cleaners, Ianto couldn't help but ask what the hell Jack's earlier torture of Owen had been about.

"I don't know," Jack answered, shrugging. "It was fun. Besides, he deserved it."

"Why, exactly?" Ianto asked.

"I don't know," Jack said again. "He seems to have taken a hell of a lot of interest in you lately."

"Jealous?" Ianto asked with an incredulous laugh.

"No, just kind of offended. You have no idea how often he's been sermonizing at me lately, as if…" Jack trailed off, and when he spoke again, his voice was solemn.

"I can't promise you that you'll always be safe," he said. "I can't promise you a long and happy life, because you work for Torchwood, and we both know what that means. But, I can promise that I will never hurt you. You understand that, right?"

"Of course," Ianto said. "Though I doubt Owen's really concerned for my well-being. I think he's just afraid of me.

"Maybe," Jack said, pulling up to the hub, "but I think he's also afraid for you. Which brings up something I've been meaning to talk to you about." He bit his lip, and paused as if he was at a loss for words. That was so unlike Jack, Ianto felt a thrill of fear down his spine, and his usually calm demeanour started to slip.

"All right," Ianto said, "talk to me, then."

"Back before this," Jack said, vaguely waving his hand to indicate his whole life at Torchwood, "before, when I was with the time agency, sometimes, late at night, I'd think about how my life was just sort of passing by. I mean, it was filled with excitement, and danger, and sex, but there were things I missed, and I knew I was missing them. Now, I look at you, and I can see your life just slipping away, and you aren't even paying attention. Things like family, and Christmas, and living to a ripe old age surrounded by grandchildren. You'll never get that here, Ianto, and I want you to have those things."

Ianto stared at him blankly for a second, as if Jack had been speaking a foreign language. Slowly, his eyes cleared and his expression changed from one of shock to one of anger.

"But, I don't want that," he said, "I want to stay here; this is what I do, it's who I am. You can't just expect me to change everything, just because you deem it so. That's not how it works, Jack."

"That's exactly how it works, Ianto. I'm your boss, and I dictate these things. It's for the best. Go out, find someone, fall in love, get married, have kids, be an accountant, or a teacher, or a zookeeper. Anything you want. You're young, and you have your whole life ahead of you, and you deserve those things."

"But. I. Don't. Want. Them. Goddamn it, Jack. It's my life; you cannot dictate what I do with it."

"I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy, Jack. I knew the risks when I joined Torchwood London, and I know them now. After everything we've had together, you just want to wipe my memory and leave me? Don't I even get a say?"

"Of course you do," Jack said, his voice tight with emotion. "And I never said I'd wipe your memory, and I don't want to leave you. I'm just giving you the option, because I can't promise you that you'll always be safe. I want you safe."

"And I want you, Jack. I want you and Torchwood and weevils. This is what I am; it's what's been made of me, and if you want me out, you'll have to Retcon me."

"Good," Jack said, with his million watt smile. "I don't want you out, I just wanted to make sure that this is what you wanted. It's not an offer I've ever made to anyone else."

"I suppose that's sort of romantic, Jack. But, I'm happy exactly were I am."

"Good," Jack said again, and Ianto could tell that he meant it. " Let's get inside. We have to feed Myfanwy."

Ianto followed him into the hub, knowing full well that by 'we' Jack had meant that Ianto would be feeding the pterodactyl.

"Do you just keep me around to do the shit jobs?" Ianto asked as he disgustedly threw sticky, sauce-covered chunks of raw meat to their pet.

"No," Jack replied from the catwalk he was watching from. "I keep you around because I don't know what the hell I'd do without you. Besides, Myfanwy seems to like you best."

"That's comforting," Ianto said, jumping back as the impossible creature tried to take his hand. "I'd hate to see what she does to the people she doesn't get on with. At least if she took your arm, it would grow back."

Jack laughed, and Ianto smiled at the sound. It was rare for Jack to genuinely laugh, and Ianto was proud of the fact that he was the only person who ever heard it on a regular basis.

He threw the last chunks out, washed his hands thoroughly, and then joined Jack on the catwalk.

"Were you serious?" he asked as Jack put his arms around him. "About letting me go?"

"Yes," Jack replied, "but I was also serious about wanting you to stay."

"Good. Because you're not getting rid of me that easily."

Jack said nothing, but he pulled Ianto tighter, and while it wasn't a declaration of undying love, for Ianto, it was more than enough.