Not Like That

"So, teaboy, you going out with the boss tonight?" asks Owen, twiddling a pen between his fingers until he drops it. He doesn't bother picking it up because no one else is around. Ianto is working at his computer and doesn't stop typing to answer.

"What about tonight?" he asks, barely glancing over his shoulder. Owen paces behind him, dangerously bored.

"You. Jack. Got a hot date?"

Ianto stops typing and turns around in his chair with a raised eyebrow. "I'm sorry, but how is it any of your business what either one of us is doing tonight?"

"Because Jack is letting everyone go home early tonight," Owen replies. "Not that I have much to go home to, of course, but if you're going to be sexing it up here, I'm leaving as fast as I can. If you're going out, then maybe I'll stay and get some work done."

Ianto snorts and turns back to his computer. "Right. Volunteering to work on your time off? Your body is dead, not your brain."

Owen kicks at a nearby rubbish bin. "Hey, I've been known to go above and beyond. And since I can't really sleep, I have a lot more time on my hands now, so maybe I'll do that filing you've been complaining about all week."

That gets an even better response, because the Welshman actually stands up and wags his finger in Owen's direction. "Don't you go near that filing, or—"

"Or what?" Owen drawls. "You'll give me decaf? Shoot my other shoulder? You're going to have to come up with some new threats."

"How about piping ABBA into the medical bay for a week?"

"You'd have to listen to it too, you know."

Ianto shrugs. "Doesn't bother me as much as I know it bothers you, though. And the girls would love it. I could probably dig out a disco ball from the archives."

Owen rolls his eyes and goes back to his original question. "So are you or are you not keeping the boss horizontal company tonight? Is that why we all get the night off, so he can shag you senseless without the Rift interrupting?"

Ianto rolls his eyes and tucks his hands into his pockets. "Actually, we have a reservation at Orsino's and tickets to the symphony. So yes, it would be nice if the Rift didn't interrupt."

Owen is taken aback; he hadn't expected such a serious date. "Damn, what's the occasion? Get a new tie tack or something?"

Ianto doesn't reply right away, and when he does, he sounds reluctant to share. "Jack's been back for six months," he finally replies, then hurries over to other side of the Hub and begins making coffee, ignoring the look of surprise on Owen's face.

It almost sounds like an anniversary. Maybe Ianto had meant it when he said it wasn't like that, him and Jack. Maybe there's more to it. Owen decides he's going to find out.

"So do you share toothpaste?" he asks the next day.

"Who?" asks Ianto.

"You and Jack, of course. Do you share toothpaste or does he have his own?"

Ianto looks confused, though Owen suspects the man is playing at it, since he's exceptionally smart but far too good at hiding it. "What are you talking about?"

"When he stays over at yours," Owen replies. "Or when you stay here in his hovel, though I don't know why you would." They must spend the night together, considering how many times Owen's arrived to find them drinking coffee in Jack's office, or walking in together on those rare occasions Owen came in early. Ianto raises an eyebrow.

"That's assuming we spend the night together."

"Are you telling me you're too chaste for a sleepover?" Owen asks, letting his skepticism drip to the floor. Ianto rolls his eyes and walks away. Owen is pretty sure the other man is smirking, though.

"So what side of the bed do you sleep on?" Owen asks later, seemingly out of the blue even though he's been thinking of how to approach it all day. Ianto answers automatically as he sorts papers.

"Right side."

"Jack's on the left, then?"

"Yep." Ianto glances up with a surprised frown at Owen's cackle.

"Gotcha!" Owen exclaims. "And do you share toothpaste in the morning?"

Ianto sighs with exaggerated weariness. "Of course we do. Neither one of us is that picky about toothpaste." He picks up a large pile of folders. "But he does use his own toothbrush," he adds sarcastically.

"I should hope so," Owen mutters.

"And he has drawer, on his side of the bed," Ianto continues, clearly enjoying Owen's discomfort now. "So, if you're finished with the entrapment, I'm going downstairs to finish that filing. Unless you'd like to know about our closet arrangements."

Ianto turns and leaves with another smirk, but Owen still feels a sense of accomplishment.

"If you share toothpaste, do you share clothes?"

Ianto glances up with an incredulous look on his face. "You're joking."

"Okay, so he's got a military fetish and you've got a suit fetish, but what about casual clothes? Pants, socks, robes, that sort of thing?"

Ianto offers a truly epic eye roll.

"What about ties? Have you ever let him borrow a tie? Or do you ever wear his braces?"

Ianto abruptly walks away, looking both guilty and revolted. Owen decides he doesn't need to know, because the look on the Welshman's face gave it all away.

"Good night, Tosh," Ianto calls, pulling on his coat. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye Ianto," she says absently over her shoulder. "Enjoy your dinner."

"Oi, teaboy!" Owen calls, coming up the steps from the medical bay. "Where you going tonight?" He rattles off increasingly expensive and romantic restaurants around the city, hoping for a reaction. It's rather understated.

Ianto snorts. "Local down the road," he says. "Best fish and chips in town, and snooker on Thursdays."

"Who pays?"

"For dinner?" Ianto asks, but he looks suspicious so he must know what Owen's on about.

"Yes, for dinner. Who pays when you go out, or do you split the check?"

Ianto stares at him for a few moments before he shrugs and continues toward the door. "We take turns. Satisfied?"

"No. Who drives? Who orders? Who takes who home?"

Ianto leaves without replying. He does that a lot.

"You two ever get flowers for each other?" asks Owen one day when they're sitting around the Hub waiting for Jack and Tosh to get back from a retrieval. He's tossing a ball in the air, trying to catch it one-handed.

"What?" asks Gwen, spinning around in her chair. "Who's giving Ianto flowers?"

Ianto rolls his eyes and keeps doodling on the report he's clearly not filling out as he props his legs up on the table. "No one is giving me flowers. I've never had them in my life, unless you count the cheap corsage from my sister's wedding."

"What about candy?" Owen presses.

"Too cliché," Ianto replies.

"Are you talking about Jack?" asks Gwen, but they both ignore her.

"Sex toys, then?" asks Owen, and Ianto's head snaps up so fast, eyes so wide, Owen must be right. And he'd only been half serious. "Oh, are you exchanging cock rings for Christmas? Or getting a new set of handcuffs, perhaps?"

Ianto swallows, but regains his composure quickly. He grins, too sharp and Jack-like for Owen's comfort. Why does he keep doing this when Ianto usually manages to get the upper hand, even with a mere look?

"Great idea, Owen. Where could I get a good pair?"

"Wouldn't know," Owen replied with a shrug. "Not into that, remember?"

Ianto snaps his fingers. "Right. Being dead and all that."

"Shut it, candyboy."

"I'm sure you could still point me in the right direction, though," Ianto continues. "Or did you get rid of all those magazines and catalogs in your desk?"

Gwen is giggling, and Ianto shares a grin with her. Owen stands to head back to the medical bay. "Forget I even asked."

"Touché," Ianto murmurs back, and Owen stomps away. He's pretty sure Gwen and Ianto exchange a high five behind him.

"Do you hold hands?" asks Owen. "Like a proper soppy couple?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer," Ianto replies.

"What about snuggling?" Owen asks, feeling particularly curious and bitter for some reason. "Supposed to be cold tonight, with a chance of snow."

"Are you offering to snuggle with me?" Ianto asks, completely non-plussed by Owen's attitude.

Owen makes a gagging noise.

"Too bad," Ianto murmurs. "I'm rather good at it."

"At what?" asks Jack, bursting out of his office with his coat on.

"Nothing," says Owen, but Ianto grins that grin he got from Jack again.

"Everything," Ianto counters. Jack waggles his eyebrows.

"Absolutely. Especially snuggling, and holding hands too. Come on, Weevil call in Grangetown. We're on it."

"Yes, sir," Ianto replies, all business as he grabs his coat, along with gloves, hat, and scarf. Owen watches them leave, walking close, arms touching, fingers brushing, and hopes they don't plan to snuggle in the SUV. He might have to use it next, after all.

"Does Jack ever make coffee?" Owen asks, watching Ianto go through the complicated process of producing a single cup. Ianto gives him an incredulous look.

"You're joking, right?"

"Not really," Owen replies. "I mean, the man is well over a hundred years old. He must have learned to make coffee at some point."

"Apparently not well," Ianto tells him. "Jack has many skills, but making coffee is not one of them."

"So what if he gets up before you?" asks Owen. "Does he wait? Hasn't he ever made you a cup of coffee first? Or breakfast in bed?"

Ianto ducks his head with a smile, and Owen does not want to know what he's remembering. When he glances up, his face has softened. He sips at his cup before answering. "Yes, he has. He makes a great cup of tea and fantastic pancakes and eggs. Anything else you want to know about our morning routine?"

"I didn't want to know you had a routine," Owen grumbles. Ianto nods as he walks away.

"Then don't ask!" he calls. Owen sighs and heads back to the medical bay, trying not to remember waking up to breakfast in bed, yet alone a soft, warm body next to his.

"Does he ever talk about his past?" Owen asks, watching Jack flirt his way through the witnesses in the park who will soon forget they ever saw a Hoix slaughter six dogs. Ianto is standing beside him, typing away on his PDA, glancing up every so often before entering more notes.

"Of course," Ianto replies absently.

"I mean, past lovers and all that," Owen pushes, thinking it's probably a bad idea, but it's also something he's genuinely curious about. "He's always going on about it at the Hub, but I figure he's making half of it up."

Ianto glances at him, eyebrows raised. "I don't think he's making any of it up."

"You're joking," Owen replies. "So he does, then? He brags on having sex with other people to you?"

Ianto shakes his head. "Of course not. But he does talk about the people he's cared about. He's lost a lot of people, after all."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

Ianto slips the PDA into a pocket. "He's not trying to hurt me. He's only trying to remember them. And maybe someday he'll talk about us with someone else."

Owen snorts. "The anal retentive office boy with a pet dinosaur and a stopwatch fetish?"

Ianto sighs, watching Jack with a sad but affectionate look on his face. Jack glances up and winks. "Don't forget the coffee and suits," Ianto calls over his shoulder as he heads back toward the SUV.

Owen wonders if he's finally asked enough questions.

Jack is dead. It's been months since he last died on a case, and no one is taking it well. Owen knows the man will come back, but as a doctor, he still hates losing patients, and it must have been a painful way to go, bullets and burns. Gwen and Tosh are both scratched up and dazed from the firefight and struggling with the massive cleanup. Ianto…Ianto is pissed.

He goes after the last surviving Hath with a vengeance not often seen, but always simmering beneath the surface. He returns to SUV bloodied and angry, throwing something into the boot and muttering as he starts helping with the cleanup, not bothering to hide his ire. Owen stops him, points to Jack, and pushes him away. Ianto deflates immediately and goes to sit with Jack.

Owen isn't sure why he's suggested it. But something tells him that Ianto needs to be with Jack. That he needs to be there when Jack comes back, to know and feel that their enigmatic immortal leader isn't really dead, only temporarily dead. He's badgered Ianto enough over the last several weeks to understand the Welshman's comment. "It's not like that, me and Jack." Only it is, though probably not in the way Ianto thinks, and Owen doubts either man realizes it.

Owen had assumed the men were shagging again, nothing more. He hadn't realized they made dinner reservations and booked symphony tickets to celebrate minor anniversaries. That they spent the night together, with a side of the bed and a drawer and everything. That they shared toothpaste and clothing and probably more. That they exchanged gifts, however kinky, and snuggled and held hands. That isn't casual sex with the boss. That's more.

The funny thing is, Owen is pretty sure Ianto doesn't see any of it that way, either.

Ianto sits down on the cold ground next to Jack, his face still wearing that carefully composed mask he wears every day. Until he reaches out toward Jack's wounds, watching them heal, and then Owen sees the deep fear in the other man's eyes. His lover is dead, after all, and though they've all seen Jack die and revive several times now, this one was gruesome, and it's been a while. And it must be hard to watch for someone who is clearly more than a friend or coworker. Even Owen sometimes wonders if one day the trick won't work, if Jack's ability to come back will be up one day; Ianto must feel that fear every time.

Ianto stops his hand and brushes the hair away from Jack's face instead, his fingertips coming away dotted with blood. He stares at them, and his face crumples, and he pulls Jack onto his lap, bending over so Owen can no longer see his face, though his feelings radiate from the set of his shoulders, his firm hold on Jack. It's painful to watch, this raw grief before him, and yet Owen can't look away. It's fascinating and heartbreaking and enlightening all at once.

Without warning Jack gasps back to life in that shocking way he has. Ianto doesn't jump, doesn't blink, doesn't react. He simply smiles down at Jack, then starts to untangle himself. Jack reaches out for his hand and grabs it, holds it tight against his chest, heedless of the blood. His other hand reaches toward Ianto's face, brushes at something—blood? Or tears? Then he curls his hand around the back of Ianto's head and pulls him down and kisses him. Gentle at first, then longer and harder. Not the kind of kiss that leads to more, but the kind of kiss that reassures and reaffirms. Owen expects one or both of them to burst into mawkish tears at any moment.

Instead, they pull apart and grin. Jack says something that Owen can't hear, and Ianto shakes his head with obvious affection. He lets go of Jack's hand and helps him sit, and they stay close as Jack recovers and Ianto talks, probably filling him in on what happened after Jack died. Jack glances around the scene, until he catches Owen's eye, watching them.

Owen can't look away, even when Ianto follows Jack's gaze and sees Owen, standing there, watching everything. Several expressions float across his face, from anger to embarrassment, until Owen nods, Ianto nods back, and Owen turns away from the two men, leaving them to their private moment once more.

He's not sure how to react—what to think, what to say. When Gwen starts to hurry toward them, he takes her arm, shakes his head and points her toward the SUV to get something he doesn't actually need, but will keep her away from the men for a few more minutes. Tosh sees, glances back at Jack and Ianto, and nods before she too moves away.

The two men join them not long after that, and they finish cleaning up the scene. Ianto has the keys to the SUV and climbs into the driver's seat; by unspoken agreement Owen climbs into the back with the girls so that Jack can recover in the passenger seat. Ianto pulls away, driving silently through the streets back to the Hub as Jack begins his storytelling, entertaining the car with whatever tale he can come up with about the alien Hath. Owen exchanges a look with Tosh when Jack reaches over to hold Ianto's hand, and Ianto doesn't shake it off, but grabs hold tight.

Jack stops then, quieting quicker than usual. He rests his head on window and closes his eyes, clearly exhausted. This death must have been harder than most. When they get back to the Hub, Owen pulls Ianto aside in the parking garage.

"Why don't you take him home?" he suggests, keeping his voice down. "We've got this."

Ianto gives him a funny look. "This is his home," he points out. Owen rolls his eyes.

"Take him back to yours. He looks like hell, and you're not far behind."

Ianto glances at Jack, who is definitely pale and moving slower than usual. He shakes his head. "He won't go. There's too much to do here, we should—"

Owen pushes him toward Jack. "Convince him. We can take care of it, and I'll leave you all the reports and filing you could possibly want."

Ianto offers a small, crooked smile. "You wouldn't know what to do with reports and files anyway."

"Don't know, don't care," says Owen. "So it's all yours. And you can even take the SUV in for detailing tomorrow, and I won't give you a hard time."

Ianto narrows his eyes. "Where's Owen Harper and what have you done with him?"

"I can, on rare occasions, be nice. So take your…whatever he is … home and take care of him. That's what you're supposed to do, right? When you're …whatever you two are."

Ianto is staring at the floor, practically scuffing his shoe like a schoolboy. When he looks up, his mask has slipped, and Owen sees the gratitude and relief. When Ianto looks at Jack and smiles, Owen thinks he sees more as well. And when Jack returns the smile, Owen is certain he sees more in Jack's eyes.

Ianto holds out his hand and shakes Owen's. "Thank you," he says. "We'll see you in the morning."

Owen nods, not trusting himself to speak, since he'll either say something exceptionally sentimental or ruin the moment with a crass joke. Ianto goes back to Jack, placing a hand on his lower back as he murmurs something in his ear. Jack glances at Owen, then back at Ianto and nods. Ianto talks to the girls, and the two men walk to Ianto's car, the Welshman's hand still resting protectively on Jack's back. He even walks Jack to the passenger side, where they exchange a slow kiss, and Owen wonders if he's sent them home to shag instead of clean up and recover.

Only it's not like that, Ianto and Jack. It's definitely more, and they deserve it.

Author's Note:

This lighter idea came to me while working on my last story, and was—as many of my stories—inspired by something simple: Owen badgering Ianto with nosy questions about him and Jack. And as with many of my stories, it morphed into something more. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!