Disclaimer: Not so much.

Warnings: Sexual situations and foul language and possibly violence. And, uh, necrophilia? Implied necrophilia, at the least.*cough*

A/N: You've probably gathered by now that this story is updated... sporadically. To be generous. I haven't been working on it at all, but I had this written a while ago and completely forgotten about, and since I found it I figured I might as well post it. There's a plot in here, somewhere, and someday I may dig it out. Until then, this story is on the back burner. Like, the back burner on someone else's stove. At any rate, don't expect frequent (by anyone's standards) updates. Sorry bout that. Thanks for reading and reviewing, enjoy:

Well, it turned out they certainly could touch. Ianto had to concentrate hard on staying corporeal, and subsequently flickered in and out on occasion, creating quite a unique feeling in Jack's opinion.

It had also been rather cold, but Jack hadn't minded.

Now, spent, they lay sprawled side by side on Jack's bed. Or rather, Jack lay. Ianto sort of... floated.

"That's sort of disconcerting," Jack remarked casually. Ianto was hovering about six inches above the bed with a contentedly muzzy look on his face. He rolled over in the air to face Jack as he spoke.

"Mm-hmm."

"Is that all you have to say, Ghost-Boy?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"I take it that it was as good for you as it was for me?"

"Mmm."

"You know, normally this is the part where we fall asleep, completely exhausted by our Herculean--"

"--I suppose you know from first-hand experience--"

"--mind-blowing, earth-shattering, fantastic, rowdy, unbelievable, sweaty, gorgeous roll in the metaphorical hay."

"I don't suppose we have to bother with sleep anymore."

"Fancy another go?"

"Again? Jack, unlike me, you have a body. A body that can get worn-down. I think we're breaking records here. Let's not break you next."

Jack scoffed.

"I know you can regenerate yourself from death willy-nilly and all that, Jack, but it doesn't mean that it's an enjoyable experience for me."

"I've never died from too much sex before."

"First time for everything."

"Well, at least I'd die happy."

"There's always that."

"So..."

"No... Go eat, or sleep, or do something otherwise human."

"But..."

"Jack."

"Okay, okay. S'not like I would actually die from a sex-overdose anyways. Honestly. You flatter yourself, Ianto."

"Right. Now, food. Sleep. Recuperate."

"You're awfully bossy now that you're dead, you know that?"

"Now."

"Yesh, mashter. I'm going, I'm going."

Jack got up and dressed as they bickered. He spun around for Ianto to critique.

"I'm just running over to the cafe down the street. Be back in a flash. I look presentable enough for society, right?"

"You look like you just had a long night of sex."

"Exactly."

He made it to the door and then froze, hand clenching the door-handle. He flexed his fingers and cleared his throat.

"Ianto... you'll still be here when I get back, right?"

"Of course, Jack."

Jack spun around.

"Don't go anywhere."

"I won't."

"I mean it. Don't... don't leave me again."

"I'll be here when you return, Jack. I'm not going anywhere."

"Don't fwoosh out on me."

"Never."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"I'm going now."

"I can see that."

"What if you're not here when I come back?"

"I will be. I said I would be. I promise, Jack."

"Pinky swear?"

"Ghost's honour."

Jack's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "Sometimes I'm afraid if I only blink you'll be gone when I open my eyes again."

Ianto gazed at him. He was awfully mussy for a ghost, his hair sticking up at odd angles and his eyes still heavily-lidded from sex. He lazily floated naked and relaxed above the bed. His body was faintly ethereal, and Jack could just make out the rumples of the bed-sheets beneath him through his translucent skin.

"Go on, Jack. Eyes open or closed, I'm still here."

Jack went.

"Good news, everyone! My boyfriend's come back from the dead!"

The cafe's patrons stared at him. Jack figured it was probably a good thing they didn't speak English.

Boyfriend. Wasn't that interesting? He'd never really thought of Ianto in that sense. Employee, friend, fuck... boyfriend. Huh. Maybe.

Well, shouting that his "man who loves me but I'm not quite sure of my feelings for because I have issues including but not limited to commitment but who I more than occasionally sleep with and who fixes me delicious hot beverages" was back from the dead just seemed overly wordy.

Labels. Who needs 'em? Silly twenty-first century.

Jack made his way to the diner's counter and ordered a decent meal to go with broken Spanish and a blinding grin. Ianto had been right on one account, he was starving.

It occurred to him that maybe he should get something for Ianto. Do ghosts eat? He doubted it. The same probably went for booze. Shame, that. What's the fun in coming back from the dead if you can't get shit-faced?

The dead's inability to get drunk brought up memories of another one of his fallen teammates, which Jack hastily put aside. He was still riding the high of Ianto coming back, no need to put a damper on that.

Seeing as he was in a good mood, Jack decided to actually pay for his meal. Never mind where the cash came from, that wasn't the point. He treated the nice lady at the counter with another Captain Jack Harkness: I'm Devilish, But Don't You Love Me? Smile (patent pending) and raced back to the hotel.

Jack thundered up the stairs and skidded to a halt in front of his hotel room, the bag of food clenched in his hand swaying hard at his sudden stop. He fumbled in his pocket for the brass room key and cursed loudly and creatively as it slipped through his fingers. Come on, come on.

Finally, Jack managed to out-smart the door and burst into the room. He glanced around wildly.

Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"Are you alright?"

"Who? Me? I'm fine. Just fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Good. Because you look like you've seen a ghost."

"..."

"..."

"I was more worried about not seeing a ghost, actually."

"I did promise I'd stick around."

"So you did. I brought food. You don't really need to eat, though, do you?"

"I don't think so."

"What happened to your clothes?"

"I un-fwooshed them."

"I can see that. Why?"

"Not all of us are comfortable with just walking around nude, Jack."

"Hey, I have a coat. It's a trademark, in fact."

Ianto said nothing but gestured at the bag of food in Jack's hand. Jack sat down in the chair opposite him. Ianto had moved to the breakfast table, and was indeed fully dressed, his dapper funeral suit neatly pressed and unwrinkled. He'd smoothed his hair out, too.

Casually, Jack opened the bag and spread his dinner-- breakfast? lunch? he hadn't really been keeping track-- out on the table.

"You don't mind if I eat in front of you, do you? It seems kind of rude."

"Since when do you care. At any rate, I'm sure I'll live. Relatively speaking, that is."

Jack's chewing filled the silence. Ianto studied him and tapped his fingers mutely on the table. Jack watched as they sunk beneath the surface without Ianto's notice.

He did feel better after eating. Strictly speaking, he didn't need to eat. But it helped keep his stunning body well-maintained. And it was something he'd been neglecting the last year or so. No wonder Ianto looked at him like he was afraid Jack would break.

"So... what now?"

"Now you sleep."

"I don't need to sleep."

"Humour me."

"Ian-tooo." Jack whined.

"Jack, you haven't been taking very good care of yourself these last few months." Well, no, he hadn't. He'd been too busy falling steadily apart, thank you very much. He was grieving. For the loss of Ianto and Torchwood and his ties to planet Earth. "So just go to sleep. Just for a little while. For me."

"Alright. Fine." Who was Jack to deny somebody's dying-- or dead-- wishes?

Jack made his way over to the bed and stripped, waggling his eyebrows at Ianto mischievously. Ianto kept his expression professional.

"You're staying, right?" Jack asked. Just to be sure.

"Right."

Jack flopped on the bed. Ianto didn't move, so he waved him over with one hand and an over-exaggerated come-hither stare. Ianto walked over.

"I do hope you're not planning in sleeping in that."

"I wasn't really planning on sleeping at all, Jack."

"Fwoosh your suit?" Jack brought out the puppy-dog eyes. Ianto rolled his.

"Fine. But no funny business. Just sleep."

Jack grinned.