Ianto: "That man, out there, has never actually, properly, ever said he loves me. Not seriously, not without rolling his eyes. Until today—the day he tries to kill me."

— Torchwood: Outbreak

By the following spring, Jack had all but given up trying to express his feelings to Ianto. It had gone wrong every time, and he'd at last convinced himself that it would be better for them both if they just accepted whatever was between them here and now, lived in the moment, and didn't complicate things with talk of love, or commitment, or a future that they might not even have.

Losing Toshiko and Owen had brought that truth home with brutal clarity.

But then Cardiff had been struck by the Good Thinking virus, and Jack had revealed his secret affections in the most horrifying way possible. After everything Jack had said and done while infected, it was a miracle Ianto was still willing to remain in the same room with him—let alone want to be near him—and Jack found himself treading on eggshells during the entire cleanup process, watching Ianto for any sign that his feelings had changed. He wanted to believe that Ianto still loved him, but what man could continue to feel that way about someone who had threatened and terrorized him the way Jack had?

Ianto had assured him that everything was fine, that he wasn't bothered by it, but Jack hadn't forgotten the way he'd shrugged off Jack's praise, or shied away from Jack's kiss in the Hub when Jack had called him his hero.

Still, they went through the motions, pretending everything was business as usual—because that was what they always did when their world fell apart. Time after time, tragedy after tragedy, they covered up the scars and moved forward as though not speaking about something could unmake it.

After the immediate crises had abated, they'd shut down the computers and absconded with a few food tins from the relief packages. Neither of them wanted to spend another moment in the Hub, what with Jack's infection, the disastrous lockdown, and Norton Folgate's taunting fresh in their memories, so they had retired to Ianto's for the evening.

Jack followed Ianto meekly into the kitchen and set down the bag of tins that neither of them wanted for supper. He peeked into the pantry and spotted a partial box of spaghetti. Spag bol wasn't exciting, but it sounded better than tinned sardines and beans on toast. "I can cook something, if you like," he offered. "Save the tins for when we're truly desperate."

Ianto's mouth quirked up at the corners. "Saints and angels defend us from that day. Go ahead; I'm fine with anything. I'll make us some coffee, yeah?"

Jack put the water on to boil, then watched Ianto as he moved gingerly about the kitchen, managing utensils one-handed. In addition to the bullet wound Jack knew he bore in his upper arm, the younger man still sported a black eye and several minor contusions from the skirmish he and Gwen had tried to contain, and he was favoring one leg when he walked. A few angry red scratches were visible above the line of his collar. Jack cringed when he realized those had been inflicted by his own hands, as he'd tried to strangle Ianto in his office.

This, Jack suddenly knew, was the breaking point. Even if Ianto was willing to endure silently, Jack could not bear to cover this up and pretend it had never happened.

"Ianto?" Jack touched his lover's sleeve—gently, because although his memories under the influence of the virus were hazy, he remembered grappling with him over the desk, and guessed there were more bruises hiding beneath his jacket. "Can we talk about… what happened?"

Ianto swallowed visibly before turning back to the coffee machine. "There's nothing to talk about, Jack. It happened. It's over now."

"It's not over until I know you're really okay." He touched one of the welts on Ianto's neck. "That we're okay."

"I already told you we were."

"I tried to kill you."

"And I shot you."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

Jack shook his head. "I mean, I'm sorry you had to shoot me. I know that wasn't easy for you, virus or no virus."

Ianto shrugged stiffly. "I've had better days, I'll admit." In a lighter tone he added, "Though you shot me as well, so I suppose we're even on that account."

"I'm really sorry," Jack repeated. "I should never have let myself hurt you. I should have been stronger, should have fought it the way you did…"

Ianto sighed and set down the tin of coffee. "Jack, it wasn't your fault. I know it was the virus, making you say all those things. I'm not afraid of you, I don't think you're going to try to kill me in my sleep, and I want you to stay here tonight. End of discussion."

Jack frowned. "It wasn't the virus."

Ianto turned slowly to face him, eyes wide. "What?"

"I mean—yes, it was the virus that made me want to kill you. But it didn't make me say things I didn't mean. The virus couldn't create anything that didn't already exist."

It was Ianto's turn to frown. "Didn't exist, like… a bunch of wires in your veins, or a desire to murder the people closest to you?"

"Okay, bad choice of words. What I mean is, the virus couldn't create a target, only select one. It was designed to modify the infected subject's behavior toward the person they had the strongest emotional…" Ianto's eyes were beginning to glaze over, and Jack shook his head in frustration. "What I'm saying is, what I said while I was infected was true. The reason I tried to kill you…" He rested his hands on Ianto's shoulders and took a deep breath. This was the moment he'd been waiting for, the chance to share everything he'd been holding back, to bare his heart to the person who mattered most to him. "Ianto Jones, I lo—"

"Don't." Ianto put a finger to Jack's mouth to stop him speaking. "Don't say it, Jack. As much as I've wanted to hear you say what I think you're about to… Today is not the day."

"I knew it," Jack lamented when Ianto moved his hand away. The words tumbled out, propelled by his fears. "Look, I don't blame you for not trusting me, after everything that happened. I hurt you, and I probably…"

"Jack!" Ianto interrupted again, shaking his head. "It's not that, not at all. It's just that when you said it before, you were trying to kill me, and… I just don't think it will have the effect you want if you say it right now. So don't tell me." Jack's shoulders slumped, but suddenly Ianto was pressed against him, arms circling his waist. "Show me."

Jack met Ianto's gaze, and his heart leaped at the affection and forgiveness he found there. He brought up his hands to cradle Ianto's head and kissed him as gently as he could, mindful of the split lip and the bruise along his jaw. Ianto, evidently less concerned with his injuries, returned the kiss with vigor. When they broke apart, Jack stayed close, ghosting his lips over Ianto's cheek. "So does this mean we're okay?"

"We're okay, Jack." Ianto smiled against his ear. "Now, and always."

Author's Notes

Well, I've finally joined Actual Fandom (TM) by writing a five-and-one! (And a romance, to boot.) Now I get my fanfic writer merit badge, right?

This story was prompted by two things: First, Ianto's line in Outbreak (quoted above) about "not without rolling his eyes" confirmed that Jack DID say he loved him at some point, perhaps facetiously, and I thought it would be interesting to look at some ways that might have happened. Second, I was working on another story when I came up with the scene where Jack is injured and Ianto is upset that he won't let him treat his wounds. It ended up not working for that story, but I liked the idea and thought it was a nice way for Ianto to reveal his own feelings, so I used it here as the impetus for Jack to start thinking about it.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to share your own thoughts or theories in the comments.