"Happy birthday, Ianto," Owen said with a sigh, then slapped Ianto's shoulder—it would have been a nice gesture if his hand hadn't been covered in mud, if that mud wasn't now seeping through Ianto's shirt, if the slap hadn't been more of a shove that had sent Ianto flying forward into the mud.

So much mud. That was the countryside. That was... the last time Ianto went out into the countryside. Cannibals, he could handle—mostly, and trauma faded over time; and Pat hadn't been too bad, no matter that she was a hallucination-inducing alien badger in her true form, and the sprained ankle Ianto had gotten from that trip was outweighed by a newfound understanding with Owen.

This, though—disgusting. So much mud. Ianto was happy he'd worn old jeans and sturdy boots to search for the newest Rift gift and it wasn't too bad to spend the day out with Owen, though Jack laughing in their ears through their headpieces when they made a particularly disgusted sound was annoying to say the least.

"I hate this," Ianto grumbled as he struggled up. He moved to wipe his hands on his jeans, but the similarly mud-caked state of the jeans stopped him.

"You could have played the birthday card," Jack sung into his ear, "and gotten out of this one."

"I would have murdered you."

Ianto sighed. "Thanks, Owen."

Owen plastered a smile onto his face and sent Ianto a thumbs-up.

Mud or no mud, Ianto could always count on Owen to be himself—even if that consisted of murder threats. Murdered on his birthday for refusing to go out into the countryside to chase broken alien tech… actually, not that bad of an end. Creative, if nothing else.

"Be happy I'm out here instead of you," he said to Jack, then. "Your coat would have been lost for good."

"Ooh, gross." Ianto could see the face Jack was making, his nose scrunched up and his lips pulled slightly back to reveal perfect teeth. "How mud-covered are you?"

"Very."

"Hmm, that's not so bad."

"Jack!"

"Owen, I'm sure you look great, too." It was truly a miracle how Jack's leer came through the comms. "Ianto, I can't wait for—"

"Don't be romantic right now, I don't think I can stand it." Ianto watched, almost in slow motion, as Owen bent down to pick up some mud. "I will throw this. Or you could stop flirting, we could get back to it, find the stupid thing, and get you back to Cardiff in time for whatever… birthday sex orgy party… romantic dinner thing Jack has planned."

"I have to go." Ianto fought back a sigh. He was doing that a lot today, but that was probably just Owen's influence. "We'll be back in a few hours."

"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Paperwork."

"I'll do something even better."

"Wait, Jack, what—" There was the familiar click of Jack turning off his comm unit—dangerous in most situations, but he hadn't actually been guiding them so much as wasting time by pretending to be boss—and this time Ianto really did sigh. "Let's keep going."

"That's the spirit!"

Ianto didn't think Owen could sound more annoyed if he tried. Then again, no... no, Owen could definitely sound worse. Perhaps that was his gift to Ianto on this special, special day: only mild bullshit. What the hell—he'd take it.

Ianto's a bit annoyed in this one, but never fear: Jack's definitely planed a nice birthday bath and dinner for when he returns home.

Thank you so much for reading, and let me know what you think! :D