Ianto was practicing with blades.
He was moving silently across the floor and the usually booming music was absent. Still deaf, Ianto hadn't bothered turning on music he could hear in his head anyway.
Late at night, Ianto hadn't wanted the lights turned up. He preferred to practice in the moonlight, as normal conditions would not have halogens for his comfort.
Humming internally Ianto swung, pivoted and tilted. Arcing his body across the floor like a gymnast as he tried to memorise the weight of these new blades Malcolm had left on his pillow.
The knives were Arabian in design with the decadently ornate handles decorated with rubies and pearls that had taken Ianto's breath away.
As Ianto lunged and swung he felt the air change and with a snarl he swung his body around, Oliver standing stock still as the blade in Ianto's left hand stopped millimetres from his right eyeball.
Oliver stared at the darkly clad man with his mouth open.
As Ianto stepped back panting and tilted his head to one side Oliver suddenly recognised the gesture.
"Black Cat?" he gasped.
"Actually I prefer to call him the panther" Malcolm answered from the chair he had been seated in the whole time, hidden to Oliver by a display case. "Can I help you Oliver?"
"Malcolm? This is really him?" Oliver looked back at Ianto who was silently stalking away. "Our wraith?"
"Yes. My shadow." Malcolm smiled affectionately at Ianto's back.
Oliver opened his mouth to speak but the throwing knife that slammed into the post in front of him stopped his words in his mouth. Oliver turned just in time to see Ianto's fist and he ducked with a squeak of surprise.
Malcolm laughed and stepped back to watch the new floor show.
"Should have warned ya Oliver" Malcolm called out as Oliver jumped back from a side kick, "This room is for sparing. You come in here, you fight!"
Oliver grinned and dropped his jacket on the nearest display case and dropped into a fighting stance as Ianto advanced again.
Malcolm wished he had some refreshments for this as he watched the young men beat the living tar out of each other. Slaps, grunts and barks of pain as they gave each other a mauling had Malcolm feeling quite frisky and he rose to give his own slap but Ianto pushed him back with a warning glare.
Oliver laughed at Malcolm's face and missed the fist coming at his head.
As he lay stunned on the floor the lights came up. Malcolm had decided that was enough. He didn't want them to hurt each other. Yet.
Olive stared in shock at the now well-lit face of the man silently holding out his hand to help him up.
This was not the Ianto Jones that served coffee each meeting.
Oliver grinned as Ianto dropped back into his fighting stance and surged forward to spar some more.
Okay then. Malcolm knew when he wasn't needed so he went to fetch a drink.