Sorry for the delay again. Don't know what to blame, because it can't be writer's block if it's written but it isn't good enough, now can it? Anyway here 'tis, the next chapter, where the Weevils continue to behave unWeevil-like and interfere with everyone's plans.

Mickey sighed with contentment as he settled back against the headrest. Torchwood certainly wasn't stingy. This was a nice place. Not flashy, but neat and clean. Not luxurious, but equipped with little luxuries. Such as having a television in the bedroom, if only a small portable.

He took a swig from his beer and set the bottle back onto the coaster on the bedside table, smiling as he did so. Coasters. They'd be Ianto's idea, he reckoned.

The murder mystery on-screen was approaching its conclusion when Mickey's mobile rang.

"Smith," he answered briskly.

"Hi Mickey, it's Gwen. I need help rounding up some Weevils."

Mickey looked mournfully at the rest of his beer. When he'd agreed to be first call out, he'd assumed that meant first after whoever was manning the Hub. Evidently Gwen didn't see it that way. Mickey could easily picture her with her fancy boots up on the desk while he trailed after Weevils in the dark. And she'd already called him in once tonight, fun though that'd been. Mickey adjusted his mental picture to include a Tribble singing in the background and sighed as he felt around for the shoes he'd discarded at the end of the bed.

"What's up?" he asked, clamping down on the glimmer of annoyance. Weevils weren't such a big deal. Couldn't she just buzz past 'em in the SUV and send them packing like he'd done last night?

"I'm out where we released those Weevils today," Gwen answered. "And there are a dozen of them around the SUV. I can't get away without driving right them."

Fair enough then. She'd already attended, and they weren't running from the SUV anymore. Mickey flipped off the TV. Didn't really matter, he thought philosophically. He'd picked 'whodunnit' by the second ad-break. And, he remembered with a grin, Ianto had negotiated him a special rate for after-hours call-outs.

"On my way," Mickey answered.

Gwen's breath hitched in his ear, and the ominous rattle in the background had Mickey on his feet, shoving his phone in his pocket and hooking his Torchwood Bluetooth device around his ear as he took the stairs three at a time. "What's going on?" he demanded.

"Hurry Mickey," Gwen said, her voice betraying edges of panic she'd concealed so far. "I think they're trying to get in."

-XXX-

Ianto climbed back into bed, still slightly damp from the shower he hadn't invited Jack to share, and wearing pyjama bottoms. Jack sighed at the avalanche of unspoken evidence that their conspiracy of avoidance was over, and trudged off to his own solitary shower.

Ianto was still awake when Jack finished. Awake, waiting, and radiating a far different variety of expectation to the one that usually accompanied Jack's return to bed.

"You said Gwen was behaving oddly towards you today," Jack began, having decided on the 'grit your teeth and get it over with' approach.

Ianto nodded against Jack's chest. "Being excruciatingly polite," he agreed. "Is that what's bothering you?" He laughed softly, the vibrations against Jack's chest tempting him toward renewed attempts at distraction. "It's no big deal, Jack," Ianto continued placidly. "She was probably just putting on a show for Mickey's benefit."

Jack looked down into the trusting blue eyes and ached to accept the escape he was being offered. It would be so easy to laugh it off together, but that would only delay the confrontation, not avoid it. Not with Gwen showing all the signs of being on some sort of mission to 'put things right'.

The ringing of his phone seemed to be a gift from the gods of mischief who delighted in ruining every one of Jack's good intentions. It was Gwen's ring tone, too, which was hardly going to help matters. Jack decided impulsively to ignore it, and turned back to Ianto, who looked from him to the phone with raised eyebrows.

"You should answer it, Jack," he pointed out gently. "Gwen's manning the Hub tonight. It's probably important."

The ringing stopped. Jack tried to smile at Ianto with the triumph he should be feeling, but he could help feeling torn instead. He'd had to fail as Gwen's boss in order to avoid failing his lover. Was this how Gwen felt when Torchwood called her away from Rhys? Which inevitably led to wondering whether Ianto would start resenting him as much as Rhys did.

The phone began ringing again.

"This is ridiculous," Ianto said impatiently. "If you don't answer it, I will."

Jack's smile became genuine. Ianto would never make him choose. Jack reached for the phone, but retracted his hand again as inspiration struck.

"She was supposed to call Mickey first," Jack said triumphantly. "I remember that distinctly. You wrangled him penalty rates if he agreed to be first callout. So if ignore this, she'll call him like she was supposed to."

Ianto looked away, a light blush rising to his cheeks. "She's already done that," he said. "Mickey took the last alert."

Jack eyed him suspiciously as his phone ratcheted up to a louder volume. "And just how do you know that, Ianto?"

The gods of mischief intervened again as Ianto's phone started shrilling as well.

-XXX-

"He shouldn't have called you," Jack grumbled, as the two of them piled into Ianto's car.

Ianto was in the driver's seat. He hadn't let Jack drive his car since the time Jack damaged it accidentally-on-purpose, in the hopes that Ianto would replace the nondescript sedan with a setting more suited to a beautiful Welshman. But Ianto was ridiculously devoted to it. Even after finding out that John had died in the damned car, Ianto merely shrugged and announced that carbon monoxide was nothing compared to all the cryo-corpses the car had transported. Jack sometimes wondered if it would make a difference if Ianto knew he'd died in it as well, but he wasn't stupid enough to find out. Ianto harbored quite enough resentment over the times Jack sacrificed himself to save someone else. Jack didn't want to contemplate the wrath that would descend if Ianto ever discovered he let himself die just to keep John company.

"Mickey only called me because you were ignoring Gwen," Ianto pointed out.

"But you didn't have to come along. I could have managed," Jack persisted.

Ianto sighed and pulled neatly into a gap in the traffic. "Yeah, I should have left you to handle the mental Weevils all by yourself."

"I'm not going to be by myself," Jack argued. "Gwen and Mickey are both there."

"Trapped in their vehicles with Weevils trying to get in," Ianto pointed out. "They're only safe if they don't get out of the cabin. And if that happened, I wouldn't put it past one of the Weevils to hop in and drive off, the way they've been acting lately."

Jack chuckled. He couldn't help it, given the visual of a Weevil at the wheel of the SUV. "Do you suppose they'd understand the road rules?"

"Doesn't stop the Blowfish," Ianto parried.

"Good point," Jack conceded. "But I still wish you'd stayed home."

Ianto reached across and squeezed Jack's hand. "I promise not to carry any of them," he said solemnly. "No heavy lifting until Martha says otherwise. See, I remembered."

Jack grunted and tightened his grip on the hand within his, stretching his fingers so he could brush them over the spot where a pulse beat beneath the skin, relishing the warmth, relishing the life, willing away the fear. He knew Ianto was humoring him, trying to lighten the mood, but the fear that gripped Jack every time Ianto was in danger wouldn't lighten. All he could do was to pretend he was coping, while protecting his beloved Welshman however he could.

While Ianto seemed hell-bent on putting himself in danger.

"So how did you know Mickey's already been out on an alert tonight?" Jack asked.

"Because I went with him," Ianto answered promptly, then winced as Jack's hand clamped around his own. "The alert wasn't far from the house Mickey decided to move into," Ianto explained soothingly. "It would've been silly for Gwen to attend when we were right there. And it would've wasted time to drop me home first, apart from being unnecessary. And patronising."

Jack made a noncommittal noise and stared out of the windscreen, with a level of concentration which would have been excessive even if he was driving.

"And there was no heavy lifting involved," Ianto finished piously.

Jack sighed. He wanted to object, but he couldn't find even the slightest shred of justification. "What was the alert, then?" he asked, with a certain amount of resignation.

"Are we debriefing?" Ianto asked impishly, pun obviously intended. "In the car?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Jack answered, not fighting the smile. He knew Ianto was managing him again, but he couldn't bring himself to mind when it made him feel so much better. Jack knew he should be disturbed by that, but he wasn't. Actually, he kind of liked it. Which should be even more disturbing. And wasn't. He was totally screwed.

Ianto spared him a blinding smile before focusing back on the road. They'd be approaching the exit soon, and it was easy to miss.

Jack nodded. "So," he prompted. "Your escapades with Mickey tonight?"

Ianto took a moment to collect his thoughts. "Half a dozen benign life-forms," he began, in a businesslike voice totally at odds with the teasing of seconds before. "We haven't encountered them before, at least, not in any of the documentation I've located. But given their appearance we've tentatively decided to name them Tribbles."

"Tribbles," Jack repeated. "As per Star Trek?" Star Trek. The original one. Sixties. James T Kirk in a snug uniform. Good memories. But Tribbles, now, of the vast array of badly-faked aliens, which ones were Tribbles?

Ianto smirked across at him. "Pygmy Puffs would've done as well, but since you stubbornly refuse to read Harry Potter, they wouldn't hold the same significance."

Jack applied an admonitory swat to wherever his hand could reach, then left it there, because it felt good. Soft and warm. Ianto had lots of soft places, Jack mused happily, before berating himself for getting off track. Tribbles. Tribbles were…..oh yeah, those. Cute. Harmless. Jack relaxed. Ianto had been in no danger. This time. "Tribbles will do fine," Jack approved. "Their real name's pretty much unpronounceable, anyway."

Ianto felt the tension disappear from the hand currently grasping his leg and only realised how tense he'd been himself as he felt the knots in his back untwist. At least this wouldn't end in an argument.

"You know them, then?" Ianto prompted.

"I think so," Jack agreed. "Certain types of freighters carry them, like ships cats. They repel pests, and they're supposed to bring good luck. What happened to them?"

"Last I saw they were singing to Gwen in the Hub. She was cooing and calling Rhys."

"No, she can't keep one," Jack said instantly. "Nor can we. Or Mickey. Have I covered everyone?"

"We knew you'd say that," Ianto complained. He released an exaggerated sigh then swerved into the exit.

Jack smiled fondly and thumbed his ear-pierce. "We're nearly there, guys," he announced. "What's happening?"

"They've settled down," Gwen answered, her voice much firmer than it'd been on the phone. "But they're still standing around both the SUV and Mickey's van."

"They look like a protest line," Mickey put in. "Like those tree-huggers. Maybe they think we're bulldozers."

Even across the comms, Gwen heard the intake of breath as Jack prepared for what she was certain would be a reprimand for flippancy. It was unfair, how strict Jack was with Mickey. They weren't in any immediate danger, and Jack had never been like this with Owen. But then, he hadn't been jealous of Owen. Not even when Owen was sleeping with me, prompted the little voice in Gwen's head that she wasn't going to listen to anymore.

"It does look like that," Gwen agreed quickly. "It sounds crazy, but I think they're trying to stop us leaving."

Jack looked enquiringly across at Ianto, and received a shrug in answer. Weevils had never been easy to predict. Jack sighed. "We'll be there in a couple of minutes," he said. "Sit tight. We'll try to run them off so you guys can move."

He killed the comms and looked across at Ianto.

"Sounds like they're relatively safe for the moment," Ianto commented. "So what do you want to do with the Tribbles, then?"

"We'll start scanning for freighters tomorrow," Jack decided. "Find someone to adopt them."

"Torchwood could adopt them," Ianto persisted. "If they can survive in freighters, they can survive in the Hub, yeah?"

Jack squeezed Ianto's leg in reproof. "They only thrive in low gravity," he said firmly. "If we keep them in the Hub, we'll shorten their life-spans."

Ianto pouted. He did it very well, too. "Why do we only get to keep stuff with claws?" he grumbled.

Jack turned his gaze away from the pout before it weakened him, and stared through the windscreen again, looking up to where the stars blazed valiantly through the layers of pollution. "I want to send them home, Ianto," he said softly.

Ianto felt all his arguments collapse into a lump in his stomach. "Of course you do," he agreed, around the matching lump in his throat. "It's perfectly reasonable, given…."

An indefinable sense of hurt washed through Jack. Hurt, and guilt. He thought they'd sorted this. But it was obvious Ianto still believed Jack would rather be back the fifty-first century than here, with him. Second choice again. Or third, or fourth… Jack wondered sadly if he'd ever undo the damage his unthinking neglect had caused. Not, he concluded, unless he made the effort….

"I've gotten sort of sentimental about homes lately," Jack interrupted. "Now that I've got one of my own again."

Ianto glanced across in what might have been shock, but was definitely tempered by something much softer. Jack's heart gave a happy bound, just like one of those stupid bunnies on the greeting cards. Yeah, he'd gone sentimental all right, but it wasn't the architecture that had done it.

They rounded a bend and the headlights of the SUV stabbed out to meet them. Ianto killed the car's headlights and rolled to a stop, hoping to avoid alerting the Weevil's to the presence of another vehicle. Ianto was glad they'd arrived, because it was hard to drive with his eyes misting up. "Sap," he accused, blinking furiously.

"Yep," Jack agreed. The snap of his seat belt being released sounded very loud in the confines of the car. But instead of leaping through the door, he leaned across.

"They're waiting," Ianto prompted, his own hand reaching for the door.

"And they can wait a minute more," Jack murmured. "Or two."

-XXX-

"Oh that's bloody marvelous, that is," Mickey grumbled into his earpiece. "We've got half a dozen Weevils trying to hitch a lift and our mighty rescuers keep us waiting while they snog each others faces off."

"Be thankful they're stopping at that," Gwen answered dryly, stuck between annoyance and laughter. But when Ianto's door opened, then closed again with a dull thud, laughter won out. The Weevils weren't being threatening any more. After the initial attempts, they'd obviously worked out the vehicles weren't going to open by banging on them. Now they were just waiting, as patiently as Weevils could wait, for whatever purpose their addled Weevil brains had driven them out here for.

"And have a heart, Mickey," Gwen added. "Given how long Jack took to answer the phone, they were probably…." At which point she realised what she was saying. And to whom. She didn't really know Mickey that well, at least, she hadn't before tonight. "I mean, it is Jack we're talking about…..so he would have been….and when we rang, well, we might have….um…."

Mickey grinned at his dashboard. There nothing like being bailed up by a load of Weevils to give you a fresh perspective. Yesterday he'd thought Gwen was a bit of a stuffed shirt. And he'd thought she was trying to steal his old mate Jack away from his new mate Ianto. But Mickey had seen a new side of Gwen tonight. She was a top bird, really. He'd never have known she was in the middle of a pack of Weevils from her voice earlier. Strong, she was. Brave. And it looked like she could be a bit of a laugh, too.

He listened with the grin spreading, as Gwen tried to stammer to the end of her sentence, then took pity on her and broke in.

"You reckon we interrupted them," Mickey finished diplomatically. "Yeah, fair enough then. But they better emerge from that car dressed, or I'm gonna have something to say. Loudly."

Gwen giggled. The mental image was quite appealing, but she could just imagine Ianto's expression if he'd heard.

"Ianto has far more decorum than that," Gwen said primly, before her composure cracked. "And it's cold enough for Jack to think twice as well. Because….you know…..the cold tends to….shrink….things…"

They were laughing hard enough to hear each other without the comms. Even the Weevils shifted uneasily at the noise level, and Gwen was pretty sure she could hear Welsh sounds of outrage seeping across the clearing. Obviously Ianto thought they were laughing at him, and he wasn't far wrong.

She was terribly glad Ianto and Jack hadn't been on the comms though. Ianto would have been offended, and Jack would have been encouraged, and they'd end up stuck in this clearing all night. With Weevil chaperones.

Working for Torchwood was often dangerous, but that didn't stop it from being fun.

Hope that was fun!