Hello again. All fluff, no 'stuff'. Thanks for reading.

Eyes closed, only half awake, Jack's arm reached across the bed, his sleepy smile morphing into a pout as he continued the frustrating process of not making contact with the wonderfully warm Welshman who ought to still be somewhere within this lovely big bed. Queen-sized, in fact, and there was probably a pun there, only Ianto was too dignified to say it out loud and would probably insist that it wasn't funny if you had to verbalize it – and Lord, was Jack actually starting to understand the turnings of Ianto's mind?

But it was a big bed. Too big, Jack decided, as his outstretched arm failed to meet the other edge. Too big, and far too empty. Or perhaps only too big because it was empty.

Jack's lids peeled themselves away from his eyes, which immediately registered movement from the French doors which opened onto the bedroom balcony. Ianto had drawn the curtains behind him when he slipped out, but from the way the material billowed into the room, he evidently hadn't shut the door.

Invitation enough, Jack decided, then began to slide quietly from the bed, hoping to surprise his lover. Ianto's robe was missing from its spot on the bedrail, so Jack paused to collect his own and drew it reluctantly around himself. He'd rather have the satisfaction of skin on skin, but Ianto would no doubt be too anxious about the whole 'someone might see' issue to relax.

Jack shook his head, a smile forming on his lips. It had been a long time since he'd allowed consideration for another person's preferences to override his own. Nearly as long as the last time he'd woken in someone else's bed without his first thought being whether to escape immediately or negotiate another round of sex first.

Jack hissed at the chill of the bare floorboards beneath his feet. Wood wasn't normally a cold surface. He blamed it on the chill air sneaking beneath the curtains. They should have a rug beside the bed, Jack thought, as he picked his way across the boards towards the balcony. Or perhaps he ought to stash a pair of slippers in the wardrobe to co-ordinate with the robe which had mysteriously appeared, which he hadn't stopped to consider might actually be Ianto's before he'd started using it.

Jack paused halfway across the room to allow the impact of those errant thoughts to percolate through the thinking side of his brain, seeking the sense of unease which should have begun winding its tendrils up from his gut. It wasn't just the robe. He had clothes here, as well. Not many. Just whatever was left from the times he'd stayed the night and mysteriously neglected to collect after Ianto had – heaven help them both – washed and ironed and hung them on what had insidiously become 'Jack's' side of the wardrobe.

Now he was contemplating furnishing and slippers, for goodness sake. These increments towards domesticity ought to have him panicking, faking a rift alert, escaping back to solitude. But instead, Jack could feel the tension unwinding, the fear spinning away, the blooming of content.

One more time, then.

-XXX-

Ianto's voice greeted Jack's emergence onto the balcony. Just his voice. "Didn't mean to wake you," it said, while, the rest of him remained leaning against the rail, face turned towards the clouds boiling over the bay.

"You didn't," Jack told him, slipping into place behind Ianto with an ease which once again failed set alarms ringing. Ianto's shoulder was the perfect height to rest his chin on, and the curve of Ianto's back might have been designed to match the shape of Jack's torso. They fitted.

Ianto turned his head, just enough to see Jack's face. Behind him, lightning stepped delicately across the bay, illuminating Ianto's pale skin, etching the bones beneath it with silver.

It suited him, that moonlight glow, in the same way that sunlight flattered the pale gold of Jack's own skin. If he ever bought Ianto jewelry, Jack thought, it would be silver, possibly white gold. And Christmas wasn't that far away, actually, so it was something to keep in mind.

Oh crap. Was he actually planning a Christmas present?

"An alert, then?" Ianto asked.

Jack shook his head, as much to clear it as in answer, using the maximum amount of movement possible without dislodging his chin from its perch. Which incidentally brought him into the perfect angle to steal a kiss, and Jack wasn't one to waste an opportunity.

Ianto tasted – fresh. Rain-washed. A Welshman absorbing his element. Something wound its way up from Jack's gut in response, but it wasn't unease. His arms tightened around Ianto's waist, while he fought the elemental urge to drag his lover back to bed - quite likely beating his chest as he went. No, Jack told himself firmly. He could wait a bit longer before finding out whether the rest of Ianto tasted as good as his lips did at the moment.

"The bed was too cold without you," Jack explained, having released Ianto's lips so he could nuzzle the throat beneath them. Which did taste every bit as good as his lips had, possibly better, given the addition of an intriguing dash of salt. Perhaps the storm had gathered spray from the sea on its journey to its native skin.

Ianto chuckled, perfectly in sync with a roll of thunder; sending vibrations through Jack's chest to correspond with the tiniest of shudders rising from the suddenly flimsy platform under his feet, Nature's casual reminder that it was a far greater force than gravity.

Jack felt tiny shifts in the muscles pressed up against his chest, as Ianto's body adjusted to the movement of the surface they stood on, and still there was not so much as a hair's space between them, his own body moving automatically with Ianto's. The swayed in obedience to wind, dancing to possibly the very first music while the storm gathered momentum.

Fat drops of rain splattered Jack's face. Ianto's robe was nicely absorbent though, which meant he could combine getting his face dry with neck nuzzling, with the added bonus of garnering another chuckle from the usually stoic Welshman. Jack considered it quite an achievement to procure a genuine smile, a major victory to extract a laugh.

"It's raining," Jack pointed out plaintively, as the drops began to land faster than he could wipe them away. He abandoned the side of Ianto's neck to seek shelter in his nape instead.

"It's storming," Ianto elaborated, turning back to the view of lightning dancing with the waves. "Magnificent, isn't it?"

"Breathtaking," Jack agreed, drawing back only long enough to see the admittedly amazing view before sinking back into Ianto's neck. He hadn't even glanced at the Bay, of course. "Come back inside," he added, his voice rumbling against Ianto's nape. "It's even colder out here than it was all alone in that great big bed."

"You've lived in Wales for a century, Jack," Ianto protested, face still fixed on the spectacle of the night storm. "Surely you aren't still bothered by a bit of rain?"

Jack sighed, loudly, deliberately. The gust of his breath swirled patterns through the hair on the back of Ianto's head - well, those parts that weren't already plastered against his skull. Ianto had been stressing about the need for a haircut for at least a week, but Jack preferred the slight disarray of the extra length, and had applied a great deal of energy to ensuring each appointment ended up cancelled.

"I like rain," Jack answered. "But I like it more when I can watch it from the other side of a window. While I'm warm and dry, and preferably wrapped up in a Welshman. Come back to bed, Ianto. I'm cold and wet and you're to blame for both so it's your responsibility to fix it."

Ianto huffed back at him. "You wouldn't be," he commenced, with exasperation, as he finally began the arduous process of turning around. "If you'd bothered to put on...Oh."

Jack grinned at him. "Rendered you speechless, huh? I'm good. I'm soooo good."

"You did put on your robe," Ianto finished. At which his eyes shifted anywhere that wasn't Jack.

Jack's grin faltered. Yeah, sure, he'd been fairly surprised himself that the concept of having a 'his robe' inIanto's bedroom hadn't sent him fleeing into the darkness. But Ianto was the one who'd put the robe of contention in its place, so he had absolutely no right to be freaked out by the reality of Jack actually wearing the damned thing.

"You'd only have made me go in and get it," Jack pointed out, somewhat weakly.

"Yeah," Ianto agreed. "So I would." His face, damp from the rain, silver from the arcs of lightning, turned sober. "How well you know me," he said softly.

Jack swallowed. Rain battered his face, but this time he hardly felt it. "Yeah," he admitted. "Guess I do."

"Does," Ianto began. "Doesn't it…." He paused, considered, breathed. "Does that bother you?"

"It should," Jack agreed. "But somehow…..No. Not even as much as the rain." He took his own deep breath. "You?"

"Surprisingly little," Ianto answered. The smile that grew on his face mirrored the moon peeking from a gap in the clouds. "And to think I've been staying put all this time only to protect the poor love next door - her blood pressure's high enough without copping an eyeful." Ianto shook his head mock-sadly, while the moonlight caught the twinkle from his eyes. "All that heroic resistance for nothing."

Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto's waist and drew him firmly back through the door, pulling them shut behind him. "Heroism is never wasted," he declared. "And should always be rewarded."

The bed was cold. But not for long. Rain beat uselessly against the closed glass doors, but Jack had left the curtains open so nothing obstructed the moonlight as it gilded Ianto's limbs.

When they woke, cozily entwined, the morning sun painted Jack's skin. Gold, flecked with silver patterns drawn by raindrops clinging to the glass.

The storm had passed over. The world was new.

And so were They.

This might be set sometime prior to the infamous 'couple' conversation, because I've always thought Jack's "I hate that word" was a bit too defensive. Or it might be completely OOC... Hope you enjoyed it anyway.