Disclaimer- I do not have the pleasure of owning Torchwood. If I did, there would be less aliens and more beautiful Welsh vowels. As you can tell by the aliens, the BBC has the honour of owning the show.

Spoilers- None- for once this is absolutely, completely and utterly AU

Rating- T

General Notes- Amethystbutterflys and I have a little game going on: we've been giving each other dares and working them into the story. If you think you noticed one, let us know...there normally a story behind said dare. (Amethystbutterflys has authorised this note)

To all those looking forward to Ianto's revenge… Please don't kill me.

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! I'm so glad you're still enjoying the story. =D

Special thanks to Amethystbutterflys for the beta, the JB interviews and the Duracell Bunny moments. As a matter of fact, she's sat here with me right now. Be scared. Be very scared…

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Good Morning

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However, when tomorrow dawned bright and clear all thoughts of revenge were driven clean out of Ianto's mind by the arm wrapped around his waist. Although they had lain down on separate sides of the bed the previous evening, the Welshman awoke to find that at some point during the night he and Jack had gravitated towards one another, and they now lay together in the middle of the bed, the model's chest pressed to the musician's back. Jack's arm had wrapped around him and his hand was splayed over Ianto's chest, right over his heart.

Smiling softly to himself, Ianto carefully shifted around so he could look at Jack's face. What he saw made his heart melt. The model looked so young and innocent, lips slightly parted, surprisingly long lashes settled on soft cheeks, completely relaxed in a way that the Welshman had never seen the laidback American in the daytime.

Ianto couldn't help it- he reached out to brush a gentle hand over the sleeping American's cheek. Almost instantly the long lashes flickered and lids lifted to reveal startlingly blue eyes.

"Morning," Jack murmured, voice husky with sleep, and Ianto smiled.

"Good morning."

As the American woke up further, he realised where his arm had strayed and rolled away at once with a muttered "Sorry!"

Ianto shook his head. "It's fine, really." Following Jack, he rolled over and rested his head against the model's shoulder.

Jack smiled, pressing a kiss to Ianto's forehead and sliding an arm round his slender shoulders. The Welshman smiled back, the movement softly ruffling Jack's t-shirt. It had been so long since he had been with someone who snuggled. Adam had never snuggled- in fact, he had been against affection, full stop. Now, as Jack tenderly stroked his hair, Ianto felt his heart swell with emotion. It was probably silly to speculate so early, but he was becoming increasingly convinced that Jack was The One.

"So, are you gonna come to the photo-shoot this morning?" the model asked idly, and Ianto shifted to catch his eye and raise an eyebrow.

"I don't know, will you be wearing clothes?"

Jack chuckled, his chest reverberating pleasantly under Ianto's. "I'm a fashion model, Ianto, not a glamour model."

Ianto rested his chin on Jack's shoulder so that he could continue to watch the model's face.

"There's a difference?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Ianto, there's a difference. It's called clothes. Fashion modelling is about what you're wearing; glamour modelling is about what you're not wearing. Fashion modelling is like being a living mannequin; glamour modelling is practically porn. Page three," he added for extra emphasis.

"Oh, I see." Ianto felt a bolt of relief shoot through him. There were some parts of Jack he wanted to keep all to himself.

As if reading Ianto's mind, the model smirked. "Of course, there's one big reason why I could never be a glamour model."

"Oh?" Ianto cocked an eyebrow, relishing Jack's sudden intake of breath.

In answer, the American took the Welshman's hand and guided it to his covered member.

Ianto's eyes widened, and Jack smirked again. "If fashion modelling is a predominantly female industry, glamour modelling surpasses that- it's a completely female industry. Ever seen a page three guy? No? Didn't think so."

"You could be the first one?" Ianto suggested drily, shifting his hand and making the model gasp. "You've got the body for it."

"You really think so?" Jack linked fingers with Ianto and drew his hand away even as the Welshman frowned in astonishment at the surprise in the model's voice.

"Of course, have you seen you?"

Jack chuckled. "'Friends' fan are you, Mr Jones?"

Ianto smiled wryly. "Not as such; but you try living three years with Tosh and Lisa and see if you escape unscathed."

A sudden thought struck him, and he propped himself up on one elbow to see his boyfriend better.

"Wait a moment, if you recognise the line, does that mean you're a fan?"

Jack smirked. "Guilty as charged."

"Oh, the girls are gonna love you."

"I wasn't aware I was dating your friends."

Ianto smiled softly. "Sorry, but Tosh is like an extra limb- you either take me with her, or not at all."

"You wanna rephrase that before I assume you're demanding a threesome?"

Ianto used his spare hand to whack Jack's shoulder. "Anyway, you're the same," he accused. "I go on one date with you and Gwen starts referring to me as a friend; and somehow you managed to coerce me into telling Sarah Jane my most embarrassing story."

Jack smiled, dragging Ianto down to rest on top of him once more. "I'm never against having more friends, and Tosh and Lisa are great," he assured his boyfriend. "But you're right- now you're dating me, the three of you will be drawn inexorably into the Harkness Web."

"The Harkness Web, hmm? Does that make you a spider?"

"Yes, a Black Widow," Jack quipped.

"Aren't they the ones that eat their partner after sex? Well done, you've successfully put me off."

The model laughed. "Well actually, I prefer to eat my partner before sex. Anyway, it's only the females that cannibalise their mate, and I think I just proved to you that I actually am male, though you can have another grope if you're not convinced."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Harkness Web?" he prompted.

Jack grinned. "Being serious now, I do have a habit of dragging my friends together and forcing them to get on. To be friends with me is to gain many more friends by default."

Ianto's ears pricked up. "Really? Brilliant! How soon can you introduce Tosh to your Cardiff friends? She gets lonely sometimes, but she's too shy to get out much unless charismatic American models drag her out."

"Oh, I can do that alright" Jack grinned. "I have a charity benefit in a couple of weeks; want to bring her to that? Most of my Cardiff circle will be there."

"That sounds like fun; what sort of benefit?" Ianto asked, trying to ignore the stab of hurt that Jack had not asked him there as his date.

As if sensing this, Jack drew him closer. "It's a Christmas meal with a silent auction," he explained. "And the reason I haven't invited you as my boyfriend yet is that the event will be publicised and I thought you wanted your name kept out of the press. I would love it if you could come though- I'm sure we can manage one night without public displays of affection."

Ianto smiled. "I'd love to come."

"Fabulous!" Jack beamed, kissing the Welshman on the nose then glancing at the clock and wincing.

"Whoops, I'd better drag my ass out of bed before we get Sarah Jane beating the door down."

Placing a swift, tender kiss on Ianto's lips, he pushed back the covers and headed for the en suite.

As he watched Jack's retreating back, Ianto pinched the back of his hand. He was with Jack Harkness. Jack Harkness was with him. It still seemed like a dream, albeit a very good one. But waking up next to him that morning had made it a tiny bit more real. Smiling to himself, the Welshman played the key events of the last week over in his mind. God, had it only been a week? Despite the complete lack of sex so far, it felt as if he and Jack had been together forever. He was so lost in his thoughts that he scarcely noticed the bathroom door opening or the American emerging until his delicious accent cut across the Welshman's thoughts.

"So, have you decided yet if you're coming to the photoshoot?" Jack asked as he strolled out of the bathroom, fluffy white hotel towel wrapped around his waist.

Ianto stared.

"What?" the American demanded.

"We're trying to not sleep together until the seventh date and you're walking around in a towel?!?" the Welshman asked incredulously.

The model shrugged. "Nothing you haven't seen before."

Ianto blinked. "Well, yeah, but not in the flesh!" he protested, unable to tear his eyes away from the perfectly defined muscles of his boyfriend's broad chest.

Jack smirked. "Perk of dating me, darling."

Apparently oblivious to the effect he was having on the Welshman, he bent over to retrieve a pair of navy Calvin Klein's from the wardrobe drawers. Remembering how to move at last, Ianto crossed the room and moulded himself to the model's back, allowing the American to feel the Welshman's hardness pressing into his rear.

"Ianto…" he breathed, straightening up and turning round.

The musician claimed his lips in a bruising kiss, all nipping teeth and battling tongues, his hands roaming hungrily over his boyfriend's body. Though startled at first, the American quickly began to kiss back just as heatedly. As Jack ran his talented tongue lightly along the roof of Ianto's mouth, the Welshman's hips involuntarily jerked forwards, causing the model's body to react. He pulled back immediately, dishevelled and panting.

"Jack…" Ianto whispered, so softly it was barely audible, so temptingly the model almost pounced on the wanton, swollen-lipped Welshman. Almost. Jack swallowed, hard.

"Cold showers are that way," he muttered, turning away and closing his eyes.

Ianto sighed, defeated, and stepped away from the nearly naked Adonis before him.

By the time he returned from the shower, the model had quit the room. Just as well really. Seeing Jack clad only in a towel, the pearly sheen of a mist of moisture clinging to his rippling pecs and washboard abs, had done things to the Welshman that no cold shower in the world could have cured. And he wasn't referring to the sudden influx of clichés.