This the promised sequel to the earlier chapter 'More than this' but is shoud stand by itself if you haven't read that one.

Ianto opened his front door, still chuckling to himself over the way his niece had managed to trick him into an excess of bedtime stories. A relaxed evening hadn't relaxed his reflexes, though, and all of his senses went on alert as he realized all was not quite as it should be.

Ianto eased the door open and froze, listening intently as his pistol slipped soundlessly into his hand. He could hear breathing. Someone was in his flat. Ianto took a deep breath of his own and pounced.

Once he had the intruder immobilized, Ianto bumped the light switch with his elbow. To reveal….

"Damn it, Jack."

Of course it was Jack. Ianto's annoying boss and sometimes bed-partner was pinned against his wall. Not the first time he'd been in that position, admittedly, but it wasn't usual for Ianto's arm to be across Jack's throat, compressing his airway, nor for the business end of his gun to be pressed firmly into the fine hair covering Jack's temple.

Jack tapped the arm and Ianto removed it, swearing under his breath. "I nearly shot you," Ianto growled.

"I'd survive," Jack chortled. "Good reflexes," he added, rubbing his throat. "And good control," he continued, eyes widening at the click as Ianto reengaged the safety. It hadn't been a bluff. He really had been millimeters from another death. Twice in one night. The stray thought wandered through his mind that at least this time Ianto would've been there when he woke up, and Jack was surprised and a little bit concerned that it felt so comforting.

A single unarmed blowfish hadn't seemed serious enough to call for back up, especially if it meant interrupting Ianto's night off. Especially when it was a night off that Ianto had planned for, insisted on even in the face of Jack's best bedroom eyes. A family thing. Well, that explained it. Jack didn't do family. Even if Ianto's family sounded like a nice bunch, and a party would have been much more fun than a Blowfish.

Jack often told himself that one of the best things about being with Ianto was the lack of pressure to conform to those tiring 21st Century protocols. Like the 'meet the family they'll love you' thing that pretty much any of his entanglements for the last fifty years would have expected him to agree with.

Instead of insisting that he didn't. Jack decided the uncomfortable feeling in his gut was simple offence. Not because he wanted to do the family thing, of course. Just Ianto's attitude, as though Jack wasn't fit company for his family. They'd have loved him. Everybody loved Jack. But Ianto was right, it was better he hadn't gone, however good a party it was that he'd missed. They'd have expected him to accompany Ianto every time after that, which would only cause difficulties. Because, of course, they weren't a couple. Jack didn't do 'couple'.

Or monogamy. The only reason he hadn't been with anyone except Ianto for so long was…..well there was a good reason, he was sure.

All of which had seemed reason enough not to call Ianto for help with the Blowfish. It had nothing to do to proving to Ianto – or himself - that Jack was quite capable of handling a simple call out by himself, thank you very much.

So he hadn't called Ianto, or anyone else, and of course it went pear-shaped, as things tended to do nowadays if Ianto wasn't there to keep them in order. Which led to Jack shuddering back into life alone, hands closing on empty air as they searched instinctively for the anchoring embrace he'd somehow come to rely on. Receiving in return nothing but the patter of raindrops on seeking fingers and the scent of an hour-dead Blowfish choking his heaving lungs.

"That's not the point," Ianto was saying, quite loudly in fact, when Jack dragged his mind back to the more satisfactory present. OK, so Ianto was angry with him, probably with a certain amount of justification, but he wouldn't stay angry. Jack arranged his face into a patient expression and waited for the lecture to end.

"Just because you don't stay dead," Ianto almost shouted. "Is no reason to start getting blasé about being killed."

At about that point Ianto realized he was waving the gun for emphasis and decided to deal with it before attempting to make sense of Jack's incursion tonight. He unloaded the firearm and stowed it away, where he wouldn't be tempted to turn 'nearly shot Jack' into 'shot Jack just to wipe that smirk off his face'.

"It upsets me when I kill you," Ianto explained, forcing his voice back into its best butler tone. "And it makes a mess. I'd rather avoid it. Especially in my own home."

Jack grinned. "You've only ever killed me by accident," he pointed out.

"Doesn't mean I want to add to the list," Ianto grouched. "What the hell are you doing here, anyway?" Pointless asking how Jack got in. He had keys to all the team member's homes, and the fact they were only supposed to be used in the direst of emergencies didn't hold any weight with Jack. Personal boundaries obviously didn't exist in the fifty-first century. Ianto firmly ignored the treacherous thought that he kind of like the idea of Jack being here when he got home. This was a one-off, probably some purely selfish reason which he'd find out too late to avoid being hurt by fruitless hopes.

Jack was still giving him a smile instead of an answer, which hardly implied anything good. Ianto eyed the man sprawled on his couch suspiciously, even going so far as to take a surreptitious sniff. Jack smelled the same as always, though. At least he hadn't arrived on Ianto's doorstep reeking of someone else.

And how pathetic was it that Ianto was experiencing the tiniest twinge of gratitude? Ianto reminded himself firmly – again – this really was happening far too much for safety - that they weren't exclusive. Jack's presence tonight probably just meant he hadn't bothered going out on the pull. And why would he, on a rainy night like this, when he had a convenient source right here? One who'd make sure he got to work on time the next day, too.

Ianto's blood began to simmer. If Jack had the gall to turn up here because he hadn't gotten lucky tonight, expecting Ianto-on-a-platter, he was going to be sadly disappointed. Ianto might accept being Jack's casual shag, but he wasn't going to be Jack's 'if all else fails shag'. He still had some pride left.

Ianto propped his hands on his hips and glared. "I repeat, what the hell are you doing here? Apart from scaring the hell out of me and nearly having me kill you, it's a bloody invasion of privacy, this is." And the remnants of his pride prompted him to add. "What if I'd picked up?"

Jack quelled the uneasiness the question raised, even if it was only by reassuring himself that it probably hadn't happened. An inexplicable reaction which he'd examine later. He bit back the 'Well did you?' that was trying to crawl off the tip of his tongue and pasted on a grin instead. "Threesome?" he offered, somewhat lamely.

Ianto glared. Something beneath the glare warned Jack he'd gone too far.

"I was joking, Ianto," he said hastily. "That was a joke. You know, I say something funny, and we laugh?"

"Because it's totally laughable that anyone'd find me attractive, of course."

Jack blinked. In his mind it was more laughable that there was anyone on this planet who didn't find Ianto attractive, but he couldn't say that. It made him sound….besotted. Did people say besotted anymore? Not that he was.

"Ianto," Jack said, mustering a superior tone. "If you'd picked up, you wouldn't have brought her all the way back here, would you? Or him," he added, just to be safe. And to take his mind off the uncomfortable feeling the thought of Ianto with someone else engendered. He just didn't want Ianto to get hurt, that's all. One night stands could be dangerous.

Ianto continued to glare. "What if I hadn't come home, then? How long were you planning to hang about?"

Jack shrugged. "You wouldn't have begrudged me a night in a real bed if you weren't using it, would you?" It was a weak excuse, but he couldn't tell the truth, not if he intended to hold on to the fragments of his pride. Jack Harkness didn't need anyone. He particularly didn't need Ianto so much that he'd settle for breathing the scent off his sheets if he couldn't have the real thing. No, that would really be pathetic. He'd turned up here because he was wet and tired and the Blowfish which had killed him was stinking out the Hub even from its drawer in the morgue so he couldn't stay there, could he? Not tonight. Not alone with the creature that had smiled so cruelly as it twisted its knife in his guts until Jack's shaking hand connected with his Webley and rendered the sadistic alien incapable of drawing that particular death out any longer.

Ianto's eyes shone in the subdued lighting, unfocused slightly in the way Jack knew meant he was concentrating, putting something together. Damn. Maybe the Hub wouldn't have been that bad. Or he could've found a roof, or just stayed awake. If he didn't sleep, he wouldn't have to wake up alone again.

"You adore that lumpy piece of furniture you call a bed," Ianto said carefully, as if he was checking each word for quality assurance before it passed his lips. "And you're a far better liar than this normally. What happened to you tonight, Jack?"

Jack twitched, uncomfortable beneath what had suddenly become an interrogation.

"I should go," Jack offered, just as Ianto's eyes sharpened. Whatever internal program he'd been running, it had reached a conclusion.

"Not yet," Ianto said firmly. His arm flashed out, fingers closing on Jack's collar and twitching it aside. The bruises from this morning's wrestle with a Weevil were gone. Ianto moved lower, slapping Jack's hand away as he tried to prevent Ianto from pulling his shirt free of the waistband.

"Now, now, Jack," Ianto said, voice smooth yet soft, iron wrapped in silk. "You don't usually try to stop me from getting your clothes off. What's the problem? Where are the scratches from yesterday's carnivorous grapevine, hmm?" Ianto's hands dropped away to rest loosely by his sides but his eyes searched.

"You know I heal fast," Jack mumbled, head drooping away from the scrutiny.

"Not that fast," Ianto disagreed. His voice softened; all traces of iron gone. "You died tonight, didn't you, Jack?"

Jack's raised his head and almost cringed, far more uncomfortable with the compassion now flooding Ianto's eyes than he had been with the suspicion.

Jack tore his gaze away, looking anywhere other than at the twin blue diamonds that had somehow replaced Ianto's eyes. He sees too much, Jack thought, with something that would've been resentment if he wasn't so tired of keeping up the act.

"Blowfish," he admitted.

"Why didn't you take anyone with you?" Ianto demanded, exasperation flooding the previously gentle tone.

Jack avoided those eyes again. "It was only one. No weapons registering. I thought I'd just be running it off." His lips twitched in a patently false smile. "We'll have to fix that. A diving knife registers as a tool, apparently."

"You woke up alone, then." It wasn't a question so Jack didn't answer. Ianto sighed and dropped onto the couch beside the boss who'd somehow become his lover. "C'mere then."

Whatever walls they'd built around their various protective pretences crumbled. It wasn't so much the simple phrase as what lay unsaid beneath it. Jack slid into the offered embrace with a strangled noise both men pretended wasn't a sob. Ianto's hand crept up to stroke Jack's spine, soothing and safe.

"You should have called me, Jack," he chided gently, when the tremors were gone.

"Hard to do while dead," Jack pointed out, his voice muffled in Ianto's shoulder.

"When you woke up," Ianto said patiently. "I would have come and gotten you back to the Hub."

"Came here instead," Jack pointed out, still speaking into Ianto's shoulder.

"You haven't explained that yet," Ianto said, prizing Jack's head off his shoulder so he could see the other man's face.

Jack merely rubbed a fist across his eyes. The innocence of the childlike gesture hit Ianto with a surge of something it wasn't safe to feel about Jack. Except he suspected it was too late for safety and Jack was here, needing him and not even trying to pretend he didn't.

And now that he thought about it, Jack hadn't smelled like anyone else for a very long time.

"Gotten used to waking up with you," Jack mumbled, seeking the haven of Ianto's shoulder again. "Wanted to wake up with you."

"Daft sod," Ianto said, his voice now colored by the amusement both men were so much more comfortable with. "Since when have you had to get yourself killed for that?"

Jack's head popped up. "Open invitation, then?"

Ianto raised the eyebrow, but it lacked spirit. "Given the way you turned up tonight, aren't you already assuming one?"

Jack pouted. Ianto sighed, rose to his feet and extended a hand. They were lousy at talking, he and Jack. Good thing the important things didn't need words.

"Well, yeah," Jack said, clutching the offered hand firmly in his own and following where it led. Right at the moment, he doubted he'd object if Ianto led him straight into hell, so given he was moving in the direction of the bedroom, hey, it was all good. "But it's nice to be invited."

Thanks for reading.