We've all been fairly serious today as it's the 90th anniversary of the end of WW1. So here's something to lighten the mood. You'll need to work your imagination at the end, perhaps. And for pedants and purists, Tescos is in the GREEN zone, not the red zone. But that didn't serve my purposes so well.

Transport Build Up

Ianto and Jack definitely differed when it came to their opinions on many things. Jack didn't like curry. Ianto did. Some nights they compromised and ate out at a Thai restaurant that made a delicious red curry with crispy duck and lychees but also cooked the best cheese omelettes Jack had ever tasted. He was very partial to cheese omelettes, so long as there was Worcestershire sauce to bathe them in. And bread and butter to mop it all up with.

For a complicated and complex man, he often had simple tastes. And he hated having to wash up after he'd made omlettes at home. They always stuck to the pan with dogged faithfulness. Ianto argued that the dishwasher was not faulty. The only faulty thing was that Jack had the heat up too high on the pan - but then Ianto didn't particularly like omelettes and knew nothing about how to cook them. Well, nothing except what he'd absorbed from the sofa during six weeks of the Saturday Kitchen omelette challenge on television while he'd been laid up with a broken leg. So all in all, it suited them both to eat out at the Hua Hin occasionally.

Something else they didn't particularly agree over was use of transport. Ianto lived within easy walking distance of the Hub. Although he had his own car, which he used when he went home to visit his family, or had to go to Ikea, or to Tescos, he liked to walk to work, especially in the mornings. Jack, on the other hand, was more impulsive. When he wanted to be somewhere, the journey was never part of the travel experience for him. He just wanted to get to where he was going as quickly as possible. Especially getting from the Hub to Ianto's house after work.

Walking didn't really enter into it for Jack. He took the quickest method of reuniting himself with his lover that he could find. He attributed it to his career as a Time Agent, when his wrist teleportation device had enabled him to move within space and time instantly without the tedious need for filling up a fancy black Landrover with petrol (which he never did anyhow), looking up train timetables, or booking flights. He'd be the first to admit he'd been spoiled.

But early in the morning, he found himself coming to rather enjoy the walk from Ianto's house to the Hub. They'd drink a first cup of coffee together in the Welshman's neat kitchen, with its cheerful yellow curtains and neat granite surfaces. They'd each snatch a slice of toast, often eating as they walked along the pleasant suburban street towards the Hub. Jack liked Vegemite on his; Ianto was a Marmite man.

Ianto baulked sometimes when Jack made his toast into a Vegemite, banana, and crunchy peanut butter sandwich. Jack insisted it tasted good. Ianto tried it one day, alone in his little kichen in Cardiff, when Jack was away in London at a UNIT meeting. He realised swiftly that this was another area in which they'd have to agree to differ. As he spread cream cheese onto his Marmite toast, and then sprinkled the sunflower seeds and raisins on top, he shook his head in horror at the thought of the peanut butter, banana, and Vegemite.

"Weevil Alert!" yelled Tosh, looking up from her PC monitor "Who's going?". Jack and Ianto were down in the archives somewhere, Gwen was feeding Janet and Tosh was nursing a sprained wrist. Owen tossed aside the magazine he'd been reading. "I'll go, I was bored anyway. Where is it?"

"Over in Splott," replied Tosh.

"Splott. It's always in Splott. Don't know why they didn't build the bloody Hub in Splott," muttered Owen, shrugging on his jacket. He grabbed the SUV keys and raced down into the carpark.

Seconds later, Tosh heard Owen curse over the Bluetooth. "Where the fuck is the SUV? It's not bloody well here! Surely no one can have nicked it?"

Suddenly Jack's voice came in his ear. "Er, sorry Owen. The SUV is at Ianto's house. I forgot that I drove there last night. We walked in this morning. Could you take your own car, maybe?"

"No," said Owen emphatically. "It's in the garage for servicing today. And I can't use Tosh's either, because she isn't driving at the moment with that wrist."

"Well, take Ianto's car," suggested Tosh. "He'll not mind given the circumstances." A small cough in her ear drew her attention. "Jack?"

"Um, Ianto's car is at Ianto's house. I drove it there the night before last."

"How about Gwen's?" suggested Tosh.

"Sorry," came a voice from the vaults. They could hear Janet grunting in the background. "I was running late this morning; Rhys dropped me off."

"Well," suggested Tosh. "There's any number of cars down there belonging to some of our, er, fallen Torchwood comrades. Just take one of them. The keys are all on the pegboard in the tourist office."

"Any number, eh Tosh?" Owen's reply was dripping sarcasm. "Just swing the CCTV camera a full three-sixty down here and tell me what you see. Point me to this legion of chariots from which I can choose."

Tosh did as he said, and realized that the garage was completely empty.

"Jack?" Owen's voice was low and threatening. "Where the fuck is all the transport?"

Down in the archives, Jack looked at Ianto for help.

Ianto shook his head. "Nope, you are on your own with this. You know my feelings on carbon footprints. And I've been telling you to sort this for weeks. Not least because of the parking tickets."

"Jack." Owen was growling now. He sounded as feral as Janet. Possibly more so.

Jack swallowed. "Owen, they are all parked out the front of Ianto's house."

For a moment there was silence. "Nice one, Harkness. So there are Weevils on the loose in Splott and – what do you expect me to do – take a taxi? Charge it to Torchwood, and shove the Weevil bodies in the boot? I expect the taxi driver would be delighted to help lift 'em in. Or what about a bus? Fan-fucking-tastic. I can get the Number Eleven off Mermaid Quay; goes straight up into Splott. Every half hour. Excuse me while I go stand at the bus stop."

"The Eleven actually goes via Tesco in Tremorfa, at the end of the line," said Ianto, conversationally. "Though it's in the Red Zone. But if you don't catch the Weevil, we are out of coffee. If you wouldn't mind popping by...."

"Tescos isn't the only thing in the Red Zone!" yelled Owen, tried now beyond the limits of his ordinarily short patience.

"Calm down, Owen," said Jack. Both he and Ianto exchanged grimacing glances as he said it because they shared an instant understanding that it was probably the worst thing Jack could have said. Though little did Ianto realize that, on reflection, there were two more sentences that Jack was about to utter, each of which was infinitely worse than the last. If Ianto had known what was coming next, he probably would have tried to gag Jack. But it took him by surprise.

"Owen, look over to your left. Use that."

Tosh swung the CCTV round so they could all see what Jack was referring to.

"Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no, Harkness. You have got to be kidding!"

"It's the only option, Owen. You need to get to Splott. Sort out that Weevil."

Owen turned and glared up into the CCTV camera; his expression made everyone wince. Even though no words were involved, they all had a good idea of what it meant for Jack once Owen got back. Jack began to wonder whether his first-ever holiday from Torchwood might be a good idea, even though two hours was rather short notice for a year's sabbatical. And possibly not enough time to get far enough away.

And then he made his final mistake. They all agreed on that later, even Jack. In an attempt to lighten the situation, as they watched on CCTV as Owen made his way out of the car park on the only available transport, Jack tapped his Bluetooth. "And Owen?"

"What?" Owen was slightly breathless.

"I realize this could be inconvenient once you've got the Weevil. So for another time, I'm going to ask UNIT if we can upgrade your transport to a tandem."

End