Author's Note: This is the only, er, physical thing I've ever had a mind to write. But it was just begging to be written. It probably isn't as risqué as I tend to think it is, but it certainly is different from my norm. It takes place somewhere in the second season, doesn't much matter where.

Gwen was the only one who could make Jack truly angry.

Owen could annoy him on occasion; elicit a short snap, and then all was forgiven. Tosh – Tosh seemed only able to inspire love or pride from him. Even with her mistakes (Mary) Jack was never angry with her.

Gwen was the only one who challenged him enough to inspire actual fury. He held himself back during the actual confrontation, but it was obvious in the aftermath that what Gwen said, what Gwen thought, mattered to him, and when she found him lacking – in humanity, in authority, in sense – it unnerved him and brought out true aggression.

Ianto thought this as he watched Jack steady a pistol in his hand, entirely concentrated on the target before him. He saw him draw a breath in, then out, then fire. A black mark appeared off-center of the target. Jack let out a frustrated hiss and lowered the gun.

Ianto stepped out from the doorway, giving a slow clap that rang and echoed in the cavernous shooting range. Jack turned toward him with a scowl – which slipped away when he noticed the expression Ianto wore. Mildly amused, the smallest possible smirk. Jack skewed the blue earmuffs away from one ear. "Entertained?"

"Enthralled." Ianto came toward him. "You missed."

"I was distracted."

Ianto's smirk grew infinitesimally. "Perhaps you could do with some weapons training."

Jack quirked a brow in response, but Ianto silenced any other retort with a hand reaching out to touch Jack's hand on the gun. His fingers ran over Jack's skin, over the metal, and he heard a satisfying catch in Jack's breath. He didn't need to look at Jack's face to know the mildly confused expression he wore. His smirk fading, he moved closer, entering the space where Jack's body heat radiated. With his free hand he carefully removed the earmuffs. Another catch of breath at the trace of his fingertips on the edge of Jack's left ear. He set the earmuffs on the table beside them and put his hand on Jack's left hip.

"Stand sideways to the target," he said quiet, low, and pulled Jack against him, back to chest, his mouth against Jack's ear. He felt the surprised intake of breath beneath the hand that he snaked around Jack's chest – and an inaudible rumble as he slowly traced lower, his palm sliding down Jack's shirt, back to his hip. His other hand tightened over Jack's fingers, over the gun. "Hold it firmly." His breath brushed the hairs at the back of Jack's neck, and he felt the jolt up Jack's spine, a tiny jump, a tiny movement backward, into him.

His right arm laid along the same angle as Jack's, he slowly brought the gun up in both of their hands. "Along your arm," he said, feeling the rumble of his own voice against Jack's back, "line up the sights." Their arms moved very slightly as Jack did so, correcting the aim, playing along. Ianto's left hand slid from Jack's hip to curl at the side of his neck; he pressed tighter against him. "Relax," he whispered, running his lips along the edge of Jack's ear. And Jack did, pressing back into Ianto. Ianto laughed softly against his skin. "And breathe in," (Jack did, his chest expanding against Ianto's), "and breathe out." (A slow breath through pursed lips.)

"And," Ianto said slowly, "squeeze."

The shot rang; a hole appeared at the center of the target.

Ianto let go of him and stepped back. "Good shot."

Jack turned around, eyebrows sky-high, only to see Ianto's retreating form move through the exit and disappear.

- - -

Ianto walked back through the hub proper, straightening his tie, a nearly invisible satisfied smirk on his lips.

"Ianto!"

He turned. Gwen was hurrying up to him, holding a few file folders under her arm and looking relieved. She stopped in front of him and caught her breath. "Have you seen Jack? I feel bad for yelling at him earlier-"

"Not to worry," Ianto said. "I've spoken to him."

"But maybe I should-"

"He's been suitably distracted." Ianto glanced toward the entrance to the range. "He'll probably need a minute."

He gave Gwen a smile, dutifully ignoring the half shocked, half amused expression on her face, and gently extracted the folders from her arms. "Anything else you need?"

Gwen faltered. "Ah – no, no-"

"All right." He gave another easy smile, then turned and continued through the hub.

Gwen stared after him.

Then there was a crash; the door to the shooting range flew open and Gwen spun around to see Jack hurrying toward her, an eager expression on his face. "Have you seen Ianto?"

She wordlessly pointed in the direction that he had gone. Jack nodded and ran off.

Gwen blinked to herself, standing alone in the middle of the hub.