Author's Note: I'm sorry for the huge delays I've been having. I'm fighting for words at the moment, trying to make the protocols and organisational details interesting, but the boys just keep having sex all over them...
Not like that.
It should pick up soon, as we're coming up to Ally's time and training in Cardiff.
Owen whistled when he was deep in thought. He probably wasn't aware that he was doing it, as it was just a tuneless drone, more like the wind through a keyhole than the lark melodious. Still, it was irritating, especially when coupled with the tap-tap-tap of his Biro on the edge of the work surface, which managed to be off-beat without there being a beat for it to be off. Ianto did his best to ignore the symphony and focussed on fastening his shirt buttons. Owen would remember he was there eventually.
Sure enough, he soon gave a self-conscious cough and flipped a page in Ianto's medical file. "Right. Well, you're considerably healthier than most of my patients." He closed the file and rested it on his open palm, looking up towards where Jack was watching them. "If you're just watching us because you're bored you can amuse yourself by getting the training room set up. He's good to play."
Jack grinned and pushed away. "Turn the CCTV off on your way down."
"You had to, didn't you?" Ianto muttered, still watching his buttons rather than Jack's departure.
"Oh, I did." He gestured at Ianto with the file and smirked, but it lacked conviction. "You'll still be turning the CCTV off, though."
Ianto fastened his last cuff button and shot his cuffs. "Wouldn't you, if you had Jack?" Owen huffed and turned away, and Ianto dropped his hands into his lap. "How has he been?"
"He's..." He heaved a sigh and flicked the filing cupboard open with his foot to put Ianto's file away between his own and Tosh's. "He's taking too many nights himself, but at least he's going home first." He looked up at Ianto, spotted his concern and shrugged. "Well, I'm out, aren't I? Tosh can't keep up with him as well as he's used to from you and me, and Gwen throws a cow every time he gets her out of bed."
"And Tybalt will just crawl under the quilt and only glare at him when he comes back," Ianto finished for him. "I'll go and prove that I can keep up with him, then."
"Rather you than me," Owen muttered.
Ianto smiled to himself and headed up the stairs out of the autopsy bay with his jacket over his arm, but stopped when Owen called his name just as he reached the top. He was leaning on the autopsy table, looking melancholy. "Owen?"
He looked up from the pattern he'd been tracing on the table and nodded, agreeing to something he'd only thought. "Look after him. He's been so much happier these last few weeks... even if it is an arse having him in London instead of here." He turned away and started tidying his equipment away, closing the conversation. "It'll do him good to train with someone as tall as he is."
Laughing obediently, Ianto finished the climb out of the autopsy bay and draped his suit jacket over the back of his chair. Tosh was working on a device that Jack had told him about finding at a car boot sale a few days ago and she barely glanced up from her work, but Gwen, taking her notes for her, gave him a gap-toothed grin. "All clear?"
"Did you ever think that Owen was going to say no?" He murmured, giving most of his attention to turning off the recording for the CCTV in the training room. Although every room apart from the bedrooms and changing rooms was covered now and the system didn't allow for even controlled outages, unspoken rules of privacy had formed around the system, giving them all space despite their claustrophobic working conditions. He knew that they'd never look, just like they'd never come into Jack's office whilst they were in there – well, Gwen did get excited sometimes and forget that Ianto was in there as well, and Tosh had been known to be completely oblivious to Ianto's presence and then carefully ignore the signs. His fingers stuttered over his security code as he realised how long it had been since that was a regular feature of their lives, and how much more settled he and Jack were now, and he had to delete it all and put it in again to confirm the record cancellation.
"Right," he announced to his computer screen, "that's that."
Gwen giggled and looked over to him. "All set, love?"
"All set," he agreed. "I'll do a pot of coffee and then go down."
"Okay. Have fun."
He kept his expression professional as he stood up and headed to the coffee machine, but called over his shoulder, "Don't wait up."
He stopped off in the locker room to get changed first and pulled on a pair of worn, faded jeans and a long-sleeved T shirt that had also seen better days. His wallet, with his suit, shirt and tie, got stashed in his locker, and he sat on one of the battered chairs to pull his boots on.
Almost everything on this level was a cast-off from the upper levels. The chairs, battered and faded, had been the guests' chairs in the reception room in the nineteen seventies, back when there had been a reception room. The counters came from the shop that had been in the TI office in the 1990s, and the cupboards from the old kitchen. In the main archival office down the hall, the desks had come from the upper Hub and the filing cabinets from the fake shipping office of the 1950s. Jack assured him that there had been new furniture down here once upon a time, but Torchwood never threw anything away, and it was easier and cheaper to move a stored desk in to replace a broken one than to buy a new one.
"I thought you'd got lost somewhere." Jack shrugged his braces off as he crossed the room to his locker. "Or did Owen keep you talking?"
He laughed and tugged his laces tight, glancing up at Jack for a second. "I had to feed the starving masses. Don't want to get interrupted, do we?"
Jack, halfway through unfastening his shirt, feigned shock. "You mean you made coffee and didn't bring any down?"
"I'm sorry," he matched Jack's shock with contrition. "Can you ever forgive me?"
"I'll think about it," Jack teased, pulling off his shirt and stuffing it in his locker. He spotted the minute twitch of Ianto's eyebrows and retrieved it to fold it carefully, biting his lip to hold back a laugh.
Ianto rolled his eyes and stood up, watching the muscles flex across Jack's broad shoulders under his white T shirt. He looked more naked like this than he did when he was wearing nothing but a smile, and Ianto loved the feel of skin-warmed cotton over firm muscle when he ran his fingertips down Jack's bowed back. Today, though, he restrained himself and made for the door instead. There would be plenty of time for that later.
The training room, just down the corridor from the locker rooms, was one of the most well appointed rooms in the Hub. Whilst the computer system was cobbled together out of equipment from four centuries and three star systems, the furniture had been accumulating since Victoria was on the throne and the infrastructure had been repaired so often that it didn't really count as the original building, Jack was almost paranoid about keeping the team in top condition and kept the training equipment as up-to-date as he could. It was a cavernous room, like so many others in the Hub, split into three sections. The first section was a typical gym with running, rowing and cycling machines, weight training benches and a punch bag. Separating that section from the next one was a complicated climbing frame with ladders, monkey bars and a climbing wall. Beyond that was a basketball court with targets for aim training, and the final section had a padded mat for hand-to-hand combat training.
He'd been scornful when he'd seen it for the first time, fresh out of Torchwood London where the training facilities consisted of a gym and firing range for the field teams, and an optional gym membership for everyone else. And then he'd used every single piece of training that Jack had given him within three months of getting his field clearance. Fending off a Nagrathskan warrior with a mop had been surprisingly good fun, although hanging off the wall of the church out of reach of a Weevil and waiting for Jack to rescue him had been cold and nerve-wracking.
Jack arrived behind him and beckoned him through to the far section of the room, where two wooden staves were leaning against the wall with a basketball on the table next to them. He picked up the staves and passed one to Ianto, then gestured with his own to the mat. "Ready for this?" He raised his eyebrows in serious challenge. "Think you're up to it?"
He tightened his grip on the stave and stamped it onto the floor, testing the weight. "I think I am. Which will triumph? Youth and virility or old age and cunning?"
"Old age, cunning and virility," Jack corrected. "Or am I going to have to prove that to you?"
"Promises, promises." Ianto hefted the stave and backed away, keeping his eyes on Jack as they moved onto the mat and started circling each other. He'd never yet beaten Jack without cheating, but Jack heartily approved of cheating – especially if it could save someone's life or involved sex.
They continued to circle, so well attuned to each other that they could read the minute tells that others might not even see. Ianto mused that he should really try this against Gwen for a change, and his momentarily split attention was enough of an advantage for Jack to press forwards, and Ianto found himself on the back foot and defending fiercely.
Stave training with Jack was, for Ianto at least, something like a cross between morris dancing and sex. All it lacked from the former was the music, and it seemed to lack a lot less of the latter. Jack was beautiful, his expression intense and somehow gleeful whilst he kept Ianto on the defensive, arm muscles flexing under skin that gleamed with sweat as he drove Ianto back and back, the clashing of the staves around them and the occasional hits to shoulders, hips and sides leant a physicality to the dance. They would both be bruised when they went to bed, and Jack would probably be extremely apologetic about Ianto's bruises in the morning.
Thinking of that was sufficient distraction for Jack to press his advantage and disarm Ianto with a flick of one hand, and he tossed the staves aside as he tumbled them both to the mat, cheerfully knocking the breath out of Ianto whilst being careful to stop him hitting his head too hard, even on the padded mat.
They panted hard, so close that their hot breaths fanned across each other's skin, although Jack had lifted himself up off Ianto to allow him to breathe properly. His nose drifted across Ianto's cheek, his lips just barely grazing his skin. "Fight like that and you'll get yourself killed," he said eventually, and his tone offered no guidance about his mood.
Ianto decided that cheating was the better way out, as usual, and slid one hand up underneath the back of Jack's T shirt, turning his head so that his nose bumped against Jack's and the corners of their lips were touching. "I don't think anyone else could distract me quite so successfully, Sir."
Groaning, Jack rested his forehead against Ianto's and lowered himself so that they were pressed together from their tangled legs upwards. It occurred to Ianto that working together could be a lot harder now than it had been before, but he dismissed the idea. It wasn't like work often involved the pair of them getting close and physical. He'd probably not see Jack at work for most of the time he was over here, if the team had been up to their usual skill levels with the archives.
He brushed his lips against Jack's and then lifted his head to kiss him more firmly, sighing softly when Jack tilted his head to make it easier and returned the kiss.