Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood. All rights belong to RTD and the BBC. I make no profit.

The sunlight on the bed was warm and Ianto rolled towards it. He threw the blankets off and lie relaxing in the warmth for the brief few moments he had before opening his eyes.

"Hey," He heard, and a smile crossed his lips. It was rare for him to actually spend a night in his own bed, and it was rarer for Jack to spend it with him. They usually spent their off hours at the hub, in Jack's small, cave-like room that actually felt more like home to Ianto than his flat did.

"Hey," he said opening his eyes. "What are you doing?"

Jack shrugged and trailed his fingers through Ianto's hair. "Just watching you sleep."

"What, all night?"

"Well, the rift alarm never went off, Gwen didn't call with some emergency, the world, indeed, did not end. So, I got to stay here and watch you sleep."

"Jack, that sounds… very boring."

"Nope. Best night I've had in a long time."

"Really?" Ianto said, with a cheeky grin, "How about getting a jump start on the morning?"

xxxXXXxxx

Jack was humming to himself as he dressed, something he rarely did, and would have been mortified to be caught out at. He was happy though, truly happy for the first time in a long, long while, and the sound of Ianto's shower running covered the sound anyway.

It almost covered the sound of his mobile ringing, and, looking at the time, he wished it had. It was almost 9 o'clock, the latest he'd ever been getting back to the hub, so disaster had assuredly stuck.

"Hello?" he said, flipping it open without looking at the ID.

"Jack, I would've waited until I saw you, but I'm at the hub, and you aren't, and Rhys needs to know if you're coming," Gwen said, sounding far more frantic than she would have if the call had actually involved disaster.

"Just did," Jack, partly because he couldn't help himself, and partly to break the tension in her voice.

"Jack, please."

"Coming where, Gwen?"

"To our house tonight, for the engagement party? Rhys is having some people over from his work. I asked you a week ago. I don't know any of these people, and I really wanted you guys there. You said you'd have to see, and Ianto said the same, and I figured you had to see each other and ask. Owen's already said no, and Tosh said yes. Are you two coming, or not?"

"Yes, of course," Jack said, trying to sound as if he knew exactly what she was talking about, "barring any incidents. Count us in."

"Are you sure about Ianto? Have you asked him?"

"He's sitting right here," which wasn't technically a lie, since he'd just walk into the room, and was giving Jack a quizzical look. "Gwen, we'll be at the hub in half an hour. If anything comes up you'll be the first to know."

"What was that about?" Ianto asked, when he'd hung up.

"The party at Gwen's house," Jack said, pulling on his braces. "Do you remember hearing about that?"

"Vaguely. When is it?"

"Tonight."

"You told her we were coming?" Ianto said, slightly admonishingly.

"Me?" Jack said, with his best smile. "Miss a party? It'll be fun. After some of the stuff we've been through this year we deserve some fun. Did you put coffee on?"

"Me? Forget the coffee? There's cream in the 'fridge, and drink it fast. We're already late."

"Your fault."

"I know."

xxxXXXxxx

The day went as smoothly as anyone at Torchwood could hope for, nothing huge or world ending happened, and so Ianto found himself in Gwen's small flat, nursing a glass of wine and trying to stay out of the way. He knew no one there, except for his co-workers. Gwen was busy entertaining her other guests, some bloke was chatting up Tosh, and Jack was swanning about, being Jack. Ianto bet he already knew everyone's names, and probably half their numbers, and then he chided himself for the thought. There was no use making a bad situation worse by brooding over what exactly Jack did when they weren't together.

Still, he could kill Jack for getting him into this situation. Ianto hated large groups of people, he hated crowds, and Jack should know that. Jack should know him well enough not to make promises on his behalf – again, Ianto cut the thought off before it could start eating at him. Thinking about all of the things Jack should know reminded him of all of the things Jack didn't know, and that was another line of thought he didn't want to pursue. It was always there, all the things he knew he needed to confess, but he was always able to push it away.

There was something inside of him, some vicious, murderous bastard that lived in his head, and it hated him. It always managed to convince him that Jack wouldn't love him if he really knew who and what Ianto was; it always managed to convince him that Jack didn't love him at all. That Jack would rather be with her.

Ianto sighed, and killed off his wine in one large gulp. This was going to be a terrible night.

xxxXXXxxx

Jack was actually having a good time, until he ended up in the same corner as Rhys, who seemed just as pleased with the situation, but was trying amicably not to fight, probably for Gwen's sake. He was actually trying to make small talk, which was something Jack knew he couldn't do without starting a fight.

Jack looked around for Ianto, for an excuse to leave without seeming rude, and he saw that he was predictably in the kitchen, wedged in a corner, trying to ignore the very fact of the party around him. Jack had known that that would probably be how things went, but he'd hoped Ianto would come out of his shell a bit, at least for one night. He looked so uncomfortable, and so out of place in his immaculate three-piece suit amidst all the happy, mingling people in jeans.

Rhys followed his gaze, and said, "So… Gwen tells me you and Ianto are an item now."

"Uh-huh," Jack said, not really focused on Rhys anymore.

"Not much of a people-person, is he?" Rhys said, and then, quickly, "Seems like a nice enough bloke, though."

"He is," Jack said, a bit icily, "he's perfect. He cooks, he cleans, he kills things. He's great."

"Seems like. Does he always dress like that?"

"Yeah. Well, except when he isn't dressed. It works for him," Jack replied, icier still.

"So. It's pretty serious with you two, yeah?"

Jack was silent for a moment, and the said, "Serious enough I'm going to get him out of here. Congratulations. See you at the wedding."

He walked away, and when he told Ianto to get his coat, the look that crossed the younger man's face couldn't have been more relieved if Jack had just saved him from a horde of zombies.

xxxXXXxxx

Two weeks later, Ianto was lying in Jack's bed (which he refused to think of as their bed, no matter how much the word tried to creep into his thoughts), thinking about Gwen's wedding as Jack made them coffee. It was rare and sweet for Jack to offer to do that kind of work, and it had been happening more and more often since the wedding. Ianto didn't know how to feel about that.

On the one hand, it felt as though Jack were trying to make up for something, as if he was overcompensating for the fact that Gwen was now well and truly spoken for. On the other hand, it also felt like Jack was finally his in a way he hadn't been before. Ianto hated having these thoughts; he hated himself for having these thoughts.

But, the vicious, murderous bastard was still in his head, still telling him that Jack wouldn't want him if he had the slightest chance at her, or if he really knew about him. In a way, Owen had been right all those months ago, when he'd basically called him mental. There were always thoughts in Ianto's head that he couldn't shut up, obsessive, never-ending thoughts that drove him mad. The thing inside of his head that hated him, and wanted him to suffer; the killer in his brain that wouldn't allow him to tell Jack the truth. It was that part of him that Ianto really hated.

"You like sugar, right?" Jack yelled down from were he was almost assuredly making a mess of things.

"Yep," Ianto called back, and almost burst into tears. For God's sake, the man whose bed he was currently naked in was making him coffee, even knew how he took it, and Ianto was picking it apart, trying to find the thread that would unravel it all, because some part of him didn't feel he deserved something as simple as a cup of coffee he didn't have to make himself.

It was then he realised for the first time that, if there was a loose thread in all of this, it was he. It was his inability to be honest and open; it was the fact that he was frozen still, whilst trying to move forward at a rocket pace. It was the killer in his head, and suddenly Ianto was just so tired of it.

He composed himself, and when Jack brought the coffee down, he set it aside and sat up in the bed, the sheets pooled around his waist. If he was ever going to tell Jack the truth, it was now time.

xxxXXXxxx

"I lied to you," Ianto said calmly, as if he were giving Jack the time. It was late, and they were both exhausted, so it took Jack a moment to register what he'd just heard. When it clicked, he knew he had to proceed with caution. 'I lied to you' could mean anything coming from Ianto.

The boy had a well-earned guilt complex, and it could be something as simple as substituting Splenda for sugar in Jack's coffee, but it could be so much more; it could be so much worse. It could be something dangerous, and, oddly, Jack's first instinct was to proceed with care so that he could protect Ianto from any fallout.

"About what? Jack asked, as he slipped into bed beside him, his own coffee forgotten.

"About my father," Ianto replied, avoiding eye contact. "About what he did, who he was."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a liar, Jack. Everything about me, the way I dress, the way I speak, how I act, none of it's true. It's all a lie, it's not where I come from."

"Okay," Jack said, "Where do you come from?"

"I grew up on an estate. My father wasn't a tailor; he wasn't much of anything. We were very poor, and I was never proud," he stopped and hitched in a breath, then looked Jack fiercely in the eye.

"I never had much reason to be," he continued," until I met her. Until I met Lisa. She loved me for who I am, for who I really am. No one else had ever…"

There were tears in his eyes, and Jack felt the all-too familiar feeling of his heart breaking for the man. He'd survived so much, he'd done so many laudable things, and Jack could see that Ianto still didn't think he was good enough.

"Do you really think I don't know who you are?" Jack asked, quietly. "I know you. You're brave, and you're noble, and you're gentle. You speak the way you do because you hate it when people don't speak properly, because you're very clever, and you're better than that. You're uncomfortable around people because you're afraid that you're not good enough. You are so much better than you think you are. Ianto… if you knew everything about my past, you'd understand that I am the last person to judge you based on where you come from, or the things you've done. But, I do know who you are, at your core, and that's good enough for me. You don't have to lie to me. I don't care. I care about you."

It was the closest Jack could bring himself to saying I love you, even now, but he hoped that Ianto understood it anyway.

Ianto stayed quiet for a bit, and then he said, "Thank you, Jack. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Jack said, pulling Ianto down and into his arms. "If you need someone to talk to about anything, I'm here. You know that."

"Yeah," Ianto said, and then he was quiet for long enough Jack thought he'd fallen asleep. He was drifting off himself when Ianto said, "Jack? Will you tell me about your past one day?"

"Yes," Jack replied hoarsely, "someday. It's a lot of past, Ianto. It'll take a lot of time."

Ianto nodded into his chest, and now it was Jack who hated himself. He hated lying to Ianto, and he hated making promises he knew he couldn't keep. Telling about his past would take a lot of time, and he knew that, for some things, that time would never come.

There were some thing's a man always has to take to his grave, and since Jack knew he would never have a grave, he just kept them locked tightly inside of his heart.