"You don't have to do this, you know," Jack said, hands in his pockets. He still wasn't sure how Ianto would react to him touching him, so he kept himself contained for the moment. "They've been here for years, they're not going anywhere anytime soon."
"Sir," Ianto said, his tone disappointed. "How can I let this go? Any one of these items might be able to help us at some point in the future. But they can only do it if they're properly classified. Otherwise, we might as well just toss the whole lot into the bin right now." He finished writing and put the item back in the box. "You don't have to keep me company, I'll be all right on my own."
Jack watched him work, debating how to continue. "Hungry?"
"Nope," Ianto said. He started closing the box and made some notes on the end to identify the contents more clearly.
"You sure?" Jack pushed him. Ianto was studiously ignoring him at the moment as he moved over to a shelf and climbed up on the ladder to put the box back on the top shelf.
"Yup," Ianto said. He pushed the box onto the shelf and pulled the one next to it down to the top of the ladder. "Don't worry about me. If I want something I can get it." He made his way carefully down each step and pulled the heavy box over to the table.
"How about a cup of coffee?" Jack asked.
"I left some made upstairs if you want it, it should still be good. Help yourself," Ianto said. He opened the box and peered inside. Sighing heavily, he opened the next folder in his pile and started a comparison of the two.
"No, I was asking if you wanted a cup," Jack said. He felt he was being blocked by Ianto and he was trying to figure out a way to get him to respond. To look at him. He didn't want to have their conversation down here, but it was beginning to look like he was going to have to if he was going to get around the protective shell that Ianto had put around himself.
"No, thank you," Ianto said. He reached into the box and pulled out a green object. It was triangular, with red markings. He examined it carefully and paused to make notes about the item.
"Ianto," Jack said before pausing, not sure how to begin. "About yesterday…"
"What about it?" Ianto asked, his voice sounding detached. He turned the item over in his hands and peered at it as if totally absorbed in what he was doing. Jack knew otherwise. He could see that Ianto was gripping the artifact tightly, his fingers white from the pressure of holding it.
"I'm sorry for what happened," Jack said. This wasn't the way he wanted to go, but felt that he had to start the conversation somehow. "What happened with the Vore, I mean."
"Not a problem," Ianto said, though the tone sounded forced. Jack took a step towards him and he turned, using the paperwork as an excuse to face that direction. "It's forgotten." When he felt Jack's hand on his shoulder, he had to stop himself from reacting.
"No it isn't," Jack said quietly. He was kicking himself for not seeing this sooner, and for waiting for Gwen to make him see it. Why did he always screw things up like this? Sometimes he just opened his mouth without thinking about the consequences. "Ianto, please look at me."
Ianto sighed and put the item down on the open folder. Steeling himself, he turned towards Jack, but his eyes wouldn't meet the other man's gaze. Instead, he focused on Jack's nose. "Yes?"
Jack reached out and cupped his hand against Ianto's cheek, moving his head so that their eyes met. "Please look at me. I'm sorry that I said stuff that hurt you. I was just trying to make the Plasmavore focus on me, and let Gwen get into position. I didn't even hear most of what I said – it was all just stuff to keep its attention. It wasn't until afterwards that I realized that saying I didn't care what happened to you would be hurtful to you. That you might think I didn't care. Ianto, that is so far from the truth."
Ianto stared at him. He could hear the sincerity in Jack's voice, but he also vividly remembered Jack's casual throw away comments the night before. He had been moments away from being drained by the Plasmavore and he had been terrified. If he closed his eyes he could still feel the scraping of the straw against his skin and the pain as the slab held him down on his knees with his neck exposed for the draining.
"It's okay," he said softly. "I understand." He didn't, but he didn't want Jack to feel any worse than he had already. He suspected the Gwen had probably been after him. She had certainly been mad enough afterwards to give Jack an earful on the way back to the Hub.
